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sugxto · 3 days ago

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power play - eddie/volt/reader

⋆syn: Eddie only has one rule: no fucking in the bar. And of course, he finds you and Volt breaking it. He can't have that.

⋆wc: 3.3k

⋆cw: m/m/afab threesome, light dom/sub undertones, erotic electrostimulation, mentions of alcohol consumption, blowjobs, finger fucking.

⋆notes: reader insert uses g/n pronouns and is not described with feminine attributes. AFAB genitalia, mention of breasts, terms used include hole, entrance, cunt and clit. no spoilers for any of the routes, I suppose, but it is a more established relationship. the first 65% of this is volt/reader, with eddie/volt/reader in the later half. other e/v one shots.

⋆snippet:

“What. The fuck. Are you doing?” Eddie’s voice is harsh, methodical, but level. He usually only sounds like this when he’s kicking out Kristof for starting a fight, or when he notices you doing something even mildly off-kilter when fixing up the club. It’s a dangerous tone.

Neither of you speak immediately. You can't even bring yourself to meet Volt’s eyes; you’re focused solely on Eddie, and how still, how charged he is.

“Are either of you going to fucking say anything?” His grip tightens on Volt’s hair, and Volt nearly stumbles back.

power play

“Does he have to perform every night, though?”

You’re wiping down the bar, Volt expertly throwing a shaker around before grabbing two glasses for the concoction he’s crafting. The liquid fills the tumblers, and he starts to pluck out some cherries from a bowl.

“We have an open-mic policy, darling,” Volt says as he pushes a glass in your direction. Nevermind that it pulls a few drops of spilled whiskey over where you’d just run your rag over.

You sigh, eyeing Volt with annoyance, but he ignores you in favor of having a long sip from his glass. “But it’s almost like you need a sign for him,” you say as you round the bar to sit. You punctuate your words with a wave of the hand, like you’re envisioning a marquee. “Johnny Splash: The Breaker Box Residency.”

Volt downs the whiskey sour, and you can’t help but catch a glance at how his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “After that disaster of his American Maestro audition,” he says, popping another cherry in his mouth, “I think he ought to still have somewhere he can feel comfortable performing, don’t you think?”

You nod, stealing a taste of your drink. “I just hope he’s not taking space from anyone else wanting to perform, is all.”

“Aww, spark,” Volt hums, shrugging off his overcoat and pushing his sleeves up like Eddie does for work. “What a darling thing you are.” He props his arms up against the bar, leaning towards you, mischief crackling in his white eyes.

You shrug as you swallow the cherry from your drink. “Don’t worry, I’m not going soft on you two.”

“I perish the thought.” He grins like a cat who’s finally cornered the canary. “I adore when you crackle around the edges like we do.”

You bite back a grin, and reach out to the bowl of cherries for another, when your hand is smacked away.

“Hey! I was -”

“I know, darling,” he breathes, impatience on his lips. You watch his long, silver fingers procure a cherry, and red juice drips down his thumb. “Allow me.”

His lightning brows quirk expectantly, and you fight back an eye roll as you open your mouth, protrude your tongue only a hint. When he places the cherry on your tongue, your lips wrap around his fingers, tingling your mouth. Daring a glance at his eyes, you run the tip of your tongue over his thumb, ensuring no juice is wasted, before pulling away with a lick of your lips.

The ends of Volt’s hair buzz and spark, and his eyes glisten.

(You’ve noticed, between your partners, their similarities and differences - where Eddie’s steel eyes will darken with want, Volt’s dial up their shine, like a lamp when you remove its shade. It’s noticeable enough even to an untrained, unknowing eye.)

“Enjoy that, live wire?” He rubs the pads of his thumb and finger together, making the smallest of sparks.

You say nothing, just take another sip without breaking his gaze.

“Hm,” he muses, standing upright again. “Shall I make you another cocktail?”

You blink in confusion, glancing down at the half-finished tumbler. “I haven’t finished yet.”

“No matter.”

His voice tells it is most certainly some sort of matter. “Volt -”

He turns, rummaging at a few bottles before deciding on a few, putting them to the side. When you finally catch a glimpse of his profile behind his shock of hair, his smile is saccharine.

“Yes, here we go,” he mutters to himself as bottles of simple syrup, bourbon, and lemon juice appear in front of you. No shakers, no strainers, just a grin that sends a shiver down your spine.

You gulp. You know that grin. You say again, a little harsher, “Volt -”

“Now now, live wire, no need for that. I’m just going to make you a cocktail, hm?” Volt cocks his head like he’s explaining a trick to a dog, trying as he might to play innocent.

“Yes but what do -”

Your voice stops with a gasp as, quick as lightning, Volt’s fingers find your jaw and press down on your cheeks to force your mouth open. The pressure is harsh, almost bordering on painful, and Volt’s palm rests fittingly under your chin. You find, almost instantly, your breath comes easier through your nose, and it’s unsteady when it comes out.

His hair is alive, bursts of light sparking close to your skin, and his eyes are wild. “Fear not, spark.” You see him reach for a bottle, his eyes not leaving your face. “I’m just making a cocktail.”

The tip of a bottle is cool on your lips, and sweetness flows into your mouth - but not too much, no no, just enough to cover your tongue.

“Very good, darling.” Volt coos, placing the bottle back on the bar and deftly grabbing the next. This one’s bourbon, you think, and the unmistakable scent wafts to your nostrils. It mixes with the syrup on your tongue, and this time, a few drops escape from the corners of your lips. You feel them, slowly, casually, journey down your chin, your neck, down the center of your chest and between your breasts, leaving a cool streak in their wake.

Volt chuckles approvingly as he allows a few drops of lemon juice to enter your mouth, resulting in even more spillover, and you moan, pleadingly, as your jaw starts to ache.

“Impatient, are we?” He licks his lips, leans forward across the bar so there’s only a hair of space between your lips and his. “You, live wire, look delectable.”

He cuts off your moan with his tongue, intruding on your rigidly held mouth, swiping long, hungry licks over the roof of your mouth, your tongue, lapping at the mixture of liquids he poured like a man parched. You whine, you moan, you plead with the only small sounds you can make. The taste is overwhelming, the liquid dribbles out of you rapidly now, and the combination of the droplets’ wet streaks and nearby electricity elicit goosebumps along your skin.

Volt’s fingers relax as he pulls away, releasing your jaw from his grip but keeping his hand on you (always on you). He sucks at your bottom lip, and you finally have enough control to swallow the remnants of the drink Volt missed. You whine again, still physically prevented from forming words.

He stops, and you swear you can hear the buzz of his charged eyes when they meet yours, white hot with lust. His thumb pets your chin, the tips of your noses kissing. “Did you want something, darling?”

Fuck this man.

Hm. That sounds like a good idea, actually.

You lunge forward, your whiskey-laced lips starving for Volt’s, and you grab at his vest with white-knuckled fists. He lets out a growl, a sound of pure want, and you feel his arms snake around you, encircle your waist, and you’re being hoisted forwards across the bar. The stool you sat in clatters to the ground, and you allow Volt to settle your ass on the bar, you lips never separating more than a breath.

Volt’s large hands singe at your waist, a delicious burn as he grips you tightly. You loosen your grip on his vest and wrap your arms around his neck at the same moment your legs lock around his hips, pressing his warm body to you. He rocks his hips between your thighs, and you gasp at how hard he already is, straining against his slacks.

“Fuck, Volt,” you sigh when his tongue journeys down your chin, your neck, licking up the trail of his “cocktail.” Your nails claw at the back of his neck, needing purchase wherever possible. He sucks at a spot at the base of your neck, and a shock surges from your spine straight to your clit. “Oh, oh, fuck…”

His voice reverberates in your neck when he hums in satisfaction. “Live wire,” he says, strained with lust, “I have to have you. Now.” As he says it, his hands deftly find the button of your pants and tug, and they’re gone in a lightning flash, your bare skin hitting the cold wood.

Yes, yes of course, who were you to say no to such need? You need him, needed this, right now, right here on the -

Bar.

Oh no.

You two were breaking Eddie’s one rule.

Your eyes fly open, and you try, feebly, to push Volt away. “Volt. Volt, the bar, Eddie -”

“Fuck Eddie.”

You groan, and you both love and hate that his voice makes you wetter. “He says no sex at the bar -”

“Last time I checked,” Volt’s hands palm the flesh of your thighs around his waist, sparks igniting at every inch they move, “this is our bar. And you, little spark, are ours as well. So, why shouldn’t I enjoy my share, hm?”

You weren’t going to win, you knew that, you rarely ever did with Volt, and the rational part of your brain had clocked out when you locked up after Johnny left. Because yeah, the boys were yours, and they always said the bar was just as much yours now too, so…

You’d just have to be extra attentive when you cleaned up, was all.

You swallow, trying to find whatever liquid courage might remain in your mouth, and start to grab at Volt’s belt. “Fuck it.”

Volt’s grin is tiger-like as he helps you free himself, and you unconsciously lick your lips at the sight of his cock, long and curved with the faintest tinge of blue. Amps sake, how lucky were you that both of your boyfriends had such pretty, pretty cocks?

You trail your fingers along his length, watching as a droplet of pre forms at the tip. Volt hisses, and he grabs your wrist suddenly, and you look up at his white eyes, scared you’ve done something wrong.

But no anger or hurt is evident on his face, just that familiar mischief. He pulls your wrist and hand close to your face, and looks expectantly at your open palm. “Spit.”

Your hole clenches at the word, and you fight back a whimper. You gather the spit in your mouth, letting the glob drop onto your hand.

“Again.”

You don’t think twice.

Satisfied, Volt leads your hand back to his cock, and you wrap your grip around him, glazing your spit over the hot skin, coating him as best you’re able as he maneuvers your wrist. He makes a hum of content after a moment, and you rest your hand on your waist when he releases you.

There’s hardly anymore preamble before the head of his cock is pressing at your entrance, but you know Volt, and you know -

Your jaw falls open in a silent cry as Volt enters you, white hot and slick and everything you need. He gives you a moment, just a moment, to relax into the fullness, before his hips snap, and he thrusts.

So. Fucking. Lucky.

Strings of moans, strings of “yes, yes, yes, fuck yes” fall from your lips each time Volt bottoms out, and you bury your face into his shoulder, the burning heat of his skin and the cool wood a beautiful contrast.

You can hear the sparks of Volt’s hair, feel the puffs of his breath, and you hang on to every curse, every “my spark, fuck, good little spark,” that he groans.

It’s maddening, almost, just how good he makes you feel, how they make you feel. You moan something incomprehensible when he bites your neck and lick the marks. “Volt, volt, yes -“

There’s a surge, a flicker, and you’re empty, and Volt’s weight is missing.

You open your eyes, suddenly terrified from the loss, and you think to scream -

But the sight that greets you isn’t one that’s… entirely unwelcome.

Eddie’s hand has a death grip on the currents of Volt’s hair, tugging hard enough to keep Volt’s chin tilted back, unmoving.

(You think, in the recesses of your fucked our mind, that you wish you could do that, but it seemed to be a skill reserved for literal electrical conduits personified.)

You blink, aligning yourself to this new situation, to this unexpected twist, because when did Eddie -

Eddie.

Uh oh.

Neither of you speak immediately. You can't even bring yourself to meet Volt’s eyes; you’re focused solely on Eddie, and how still, how charged he is.

“Are either of you going to fucking say anything?” His grip tightens on Volt’s hair, and Volt nearly stumbles back.

“Eddie, my darling,” Volt finally offers, trying the voice he uses to introduce the next act. The listen-to-what-I’m-about-to-say voice. “My, did we miss you -”

“Volt,” his voice is clipped, and Volt doesn’t try again. “I have one fucking rule. And you know that.”

You haven’t seen the ice that’s in Eddie’s eyes in weeks, and now it’s your turn to try. “Eddie, it was my -”

“Absolutely not.” Titanium eyes stop your words in your throat, and Eddie points a finger at you. “You are not in a position where you wanna lie to me.”

He’s right, and you know it, and you close your legs in an effort to take up less space on the bar.

Eddie turns his attention back to Volt, flexing his grip and pulling his partner’s head closer to him, turning him so their eyes meet. You feel the hum, the charge in the air that flows between them. “No. Sex. In the bar, Volt.” Eddie cocks his head, studying Volt’s strained white gaze. “Or did you not learn the last time when I caught you with Amir?”

Volt’s laugh is shakey, raising his hands in surrender. “It was only a broken mirror, Eddie, and look at me now! We’re being very careful to -”

Eddie cuts him off with a kiss you can only describe as forceful, teeth tugging at Volt’s lips, and keeping him in place as he twists his hand in Volt’s hair. You swear you hear a growl from Eddie’s throat when he harshly tugs Volt away again, and there’s a flash of something in his steely gaze as you watch his free hand start to fumble with his pants zipper.

Sometimes, you’re almost certain there are times that Volt and Eddie don’t communicate with words, that there’s something deeper between them that lets them move in a singular, tandem pace, synchronized. As Eddie unzips, and Volt placidly drops to his knees before him, you think this is one of those times.

“You,” Eddie groans, when Volt, unprompted, places a chaste, quick kiss to Eddie’s thick, angry cock, “need to shut. up.”

He says nothing more, but on instinct, Volt’s jaw goes slack, and nearly his entire cock slips into Volt’s mouth with practiced ease.

Your body tremors as you watch them, notice with interest how a small fuck falls from Eddie’s lip, and he throws his head back, steeling his jaw with bared teeth. He’s so still, letting Volt do the work on his cock, and - and you can’t help it, your thighs press together, and your nails scrap along the wood as your hands turn to firsts.

Eddie notices.

Eddie always notices.

Eddie’s eyes are nearly black with lust, hunger, and barely controlled rage. “You,” he says, voice rough in his throat. “Open your legs.”

You do, and the air is cold where your slick hasn’t dried.

Eddie reaches out his hand, extends his ring and middle finger, and lays them at the very edge of the bar. Still. Waiting.

You blink, unsure, but you’re not sure if you’re allowed to speak.

“Fuck yourself or don’t, live wire, I don’t care,” he says. “He’s - fuck - in more trouble than you. He’s not getting off tonight.”

Lucky, lucky, lucky, your mind chants, and your heart might just explode from electrocution if you’re not careful.

You scoot yourself to the edge of the bar, position your legs under you, line your entrance over where his fingers are raised and waiting. You grip the curve of the wood to steady yourself, and lower yourself down onto Eddie’s fingers, as far as you can, and your mouth falls open in a curse at the feeling of fullness finally returned to you.

Eddie only watches, his fingers knotting in Volt’s hair, trying with his entire willpower not to fuck all his fingers into your cunt. You feel so hot, so slick, and the currents racing through his cock are already dangerously close to shorting if Volt keeps his pace. He knows if he so much as catches a glimpse of those white eyes that he’ll blow like a fuse. So, he watches you, bouncing up and down as best you can, trying to grind your clit on his thumb. Angry as he is at catching you two in the one place you shouldn’t be, he has to admit, he thrives off the power you and Volt are feeding him.

You’re close, so close, and you moan Eddie’s name in want and frustration. He makes no sound, but Volt hums around Eddie’s cock, and you can’t tell whose slick, depraved sounds are whose.

Volt moans again, his grip tighter on Eddie’s hips, and you somehow know he’s warning you that Eddie won’t last long. You quicken your place, angling to find how Eddie’s thumb hits your clit. It’s just right, and you close your eyes, white bolts of lightning behind your eyelids as you climb, higher, higher -

“Yes, yes, Eddie Eddie, fuck, Eddie!” You cry as your orgasm hits like a surge, tingling and coursing through all your limbs, and your legs quiver as you force yourself to slow.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, knowing he has only seconds, and Volt only speeds up. “Fuck,” he grunts, and finally flicks his eyes down to watch Volt work, if only for a moment, but the second those knowing, loving, burning eyes meet his -

He short circuits.

Volt sucks him dry as Eddie groans, curses through his climax, even swallows him down with his nose pressed to the coils above Eddie’s shaft. Doesn’t let a single drop spill, Volt, and Eddie loves him for it.

You all are finally, somehow, able to relax, as you extricate yourselves from your slightly incoherent, slightly precarious positions. Volt, back on his feet, pulls you into his arms, hoists you up as you wrap you legs around them - none of you trust them to hold you up.

Eddie rubs his hand over your back, presses adoring kisses to your shoulder. “You alright, little wire?” He asks, in the softest voice you’ve heard him use all night.

You nod, turning your head to find his face. “Of course, Eddie. Always.”

A corner of his lip tugs up into a smile. “Good.” He plants a warm kiss on your cheek and tucks a hair behind your ear. “Like I said, you’re not in trouble. I know how dangerous Volt’s tongue can be.”

“Hey,” Volt quips, his fingers pressing into your thighs. “A moment ago you liked my dangerous tongue.”

Eddie pays the jest no mind, but still looks up at him. “You’re on close for a week. Alone. And - nope - don’t you ‘Eddie’ me. Alone. One week.”

Volt groans, and you don’t have to see his face to know he rolled his eyes too. “You already didn't let me cum, so I get the message." He, too, presses a small kiss to the top of your head. "But who’s going to keep our spark busy then, hm?”

Eddie smiles, seeing the mischievous glint that just appeared in your gaze. “Well, luckily, they have more than one option, don’t they?”

Lucky, lucky, lucky.

#eddie date everything #date everything smut #date everything #volt date everything #eddie and volt #date everything x reader #eddie and volt x reader #sugxtode #eddie x volt #eddie x volt x reader

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peascribbles · 3 days ago

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sylus x gn!reader, menstruating reader, domestic fluff, sfw

Operation: defend your ice cream stash from Sylus begins today.

You've had enough of finding a barren desert in the freezer, devoid of sweet treats. He always leaves the evidence of his crimes for you to uncover. Bowl and spoon in the sink, slick with the melting remnants. Discarded tub peeking out the trash bin. The occasional note with a devilish winky face on the countertop. Each a cruel twist of the knife.

Your grief is doubly felt when he deprives you of life's one joy during your period. No, it doesn't matter that he always restocks the freezer til it struggles to close right after. It's the principle of the robbery in the first place that incenses you.

Luke and Kieran sneak in a clandestine package under the cover of morning, while he's still asleep. Inside is a world class, custom built, state-of-the-art safe you've commissioned for this express purpose; constructed using antimatter coated steel to dissuade him from blasting it open with his Evol.

You have no doubts about his ability to break into things the normal way, so you've designed the safe to have multiple doors which protect its contents.

For appearances only, the outer door is a mundane dial lock. He'll crack it in maybe two seconds flat. What it should do is ping your phone and alert you to the imminent break in attempt. Behind it are a series of increasingly difficult cryptographic puzzles that must be solved within a minute to proceed.

The safe's final bulwark is a stroke of genius, if you say so yourself; a singing test with an inbuilt microphone where he must stay reasonably in pitch. An assuredly insurmountable trial for him, and therefore, an impenetrable defense for your precious desserts from his bottomless gluttony.

With the twins' help, you manoeuvre the safe into the freezer. You place your last tub of ice cream into it and perform the necessary double- and triple checks. Bolts are secured. Puzzles are set and ready to go. Microphone tested to ensure it's functional.

You leave for work daring to hope for the best.

—

Hours teetering on the edge of your seat. Paranoia mounting with the radio silence. You should be happy. It could be he's decided to leave your treat alone, but it can't be that easy. You're well aware of just how tenacious and greedy he can be.

Your phone pings during your lunch break.

Determined to catch Sylus red handed, you leap into action, pulling it out of your pocket. Your finger is a millimetre away from pressing the speed dial when you notice that the notification isn't from the safe's alarm system.

It's a message from him.

The food you just ate lurches in your stomach. That can't be good. You tap to view it, the stirrings of trepidation and resignation joining your barely-digested meal.

He's sent an image of the safe. The dial lock is busted open, all the cryptographic puzzles solved. Both outcomes within the realm of possibilities you considered. Your piece de resistance, the singing challenge, is still intact, so why..?

Ah. A perfect circle has been cut into the side of the safe. Its contents empty. You spot the tub in the foreground, also empty.

Cut off in the corner of the picture is a perplexing device you don't quite recognise. From what you can tell, it looks like a gun without a barrel or a trigger.

His accompanying voice message plays.

Nice try, sweetie. He sounds breathless, as if he's been laughing too hard. The mirth that brightens his voice is infectious, and though you want to be mad right now, a pleasant warmth and the beginnings of a smile tugs at your cheeks. I do wonder where you found a manufacturer willing to do antimatter coating for a... personal project such as this. Flipping through his business contacts while he was away, of course. That thing is a gold mine.

Ringing sharp through your speaker, two solid objects clink together. Teeth against a spoon. However, the microphone you installed must not be working. No matter how well I performed, it never let me in. A pleased noise from the back of his throat. This flavour's delicious, by the way.

How shameless of him to eat your ice cream while he recorded this—this declaration of victory, you realise. He's gloating. Feasting on his bounty. Oh, when you get home, you're going to—

Before you plan your revenge, let me propose a moratorium, his voice message continues, reading your mind. Why does he always do that? I've seen your sincere efforts to protect what's valuable to you. So, I won't touch your ice cream for a month. Use it to refine your defenses.

I'll give you a few hints to start: find better quality antimatter next time. And you did forget about the extensive tools in the workshop.

You finally recognise the object on the counter.

The freezer's already been refilled. See you at home, sweetie. The message ends with an indulgent chuckle.

His words don't register for a solid minute. You're reeling from this latest revelation. Just to steal your ice cream—

He used a fucking laser gun to cut a hole in the safe?

If a puny laser was able to penetrate the coating, then his Evol would have torn it like paper. Which means he went out of his way to go to the basement workshop, retrieve the laser gun, and cut a hole in it, because he could.

You're doing two things when you get home.

One, send a complaint to the manufacturer for a shoddy product.

And two, have some of that ice cream when he's not looking.

This operation has been a failure of unimaginable proportion, but no matter; you have a month to plot and plan. You'll come back stronger than ever.

go read @blessdunrest's continuation here!

#sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #sylus x you #sylus fluff #pea.snax #inspired by the iconic lockpicking lawyer vs wife's ben & jerry's video #was thinking about how she completely bulldozed through the lock he put on it and lightbulb dinged with how utterly sylus coded that is #very quickly and loosely written

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lymtw · 3 days ago

Note

hi!! i love your fics theyre highkey my fav rereads🤭idk if youre taking requests but if you were, could you possibly do a hurt/comfort fic with toji and shy reader where shes mad/upset with him? hope youre having a great day btw!

A/N: Five years later... 🫩👍 I'm sorry this took so long. I really, really appreciate your support 🫶 I hope this turned out at least okay, it's been a minute since i've finished any writing 🥲 Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing day :))

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

It's been a week since you and Toji have spoken, not for lack of effort or opportunities, but because the one sided attempts are not corresponded. It's hard to think about him, it's hard to read his words through your screen and see his name flash briefly, before your phone does its job of sending him to voicemail.

'Maybe we shouldn't be together, Toji. If me simply trying to talk to you is such a burden... I don't know if I should keep trying.'

You said this to him a week ago. You clicked the door shut and he sped off in his car, bleary-eyed, brimming with rage and regret the whole way home. He couldn't get the sound of your voice out of his head—the cracks, the occasional sharp inhales that came with your suppressed emotions. Even in the moment, he knew it was so, so wrong for you to be looking the way you did.

The instant he got home, all hell broke loose. His fists were clenched as he treaded towards his bedroom, and as if possessed by the force of a natural disaster, he tore apart his room—demolished it—throwing things blindly, uncaring if they broke beyond repair. The picture he keeps on his nightstand of the two of you was not safe. The encased memory was thrown with all the strength he has, at the wall, the frame instantly falling apart and the glass shattering to pieces.

He couldn't stop, it all hurt so much. His chest burned, his head was pounding, he felt like he couldn't breathe, and once there was nothing left to throw, nothing left to break, he finally broke down—wholly. Harsh, uncontrollable sobs racked his entire body as he sat there in the debris—the aftermath of losing his mind over you. Barely any sound came of it, his voice was shot, courtesy of the tormented screams that accompanied his meltdown.

This all happened a week ago. You won't talk to him and these days have been hell without your company. You won't respond to his good morning messages, and if he asks to meet up, you always have something to do. He calls you whenever he can, but you don't pick up. You're avoiding him like it's your job.

Everything feels pointless without you around, his little sunshine, the reason he wakes up motivated every morning, the light of his life. His routine has been altered in the worst way. It's work, home, work, home, and he absolutely detests it because if it weren't for that damned day, he would be with you, smothering you with the borderline overwhelming love he holds for you, making you laugh and watching you get flustered over the words he whispers in your ear. He wants it back—all of it. He can't let you go, it would break him entirely.

You don't want to let go of this love you have for Toji, either. You miss being in the warmth of his embrace, and you miss the sound of his voice, and the way he calls you 'sweetheart' when you're not focusing on him. You see every single one of the messages he sends you and the phone calls.

Good morning, baby.

Morning, sweetheart. Make sure to eat breakfast and lunch. One meal isn't enough.

Saw those fields of flowers you point at all the time on my way home. I miss you.

Baby, will you talk to me, please?

[Missed Call]

And you cry, because all you want to do is respond to every one of those messages and hear his voice again, but something always stops you. The memory of when he snapped at you. The sound of his voice—cutting and utterly spirit crushing. The furrow of his eyebrows that made you feel like everything you did was wrong. It hurts to think about the whole situation, and all these notifications only serve as reminders. Reminders of the way you immediately wilted when the door shut, chest heaving as you cried your way to bed and then to sleep, wondering what you did to deserve being lashed out at.

You're lying in bed, scrolling through your phone when he calls again. The instant you see his contact picture, your heart plummets to your stomach, but an irrepressible giggle escapes you. The picture on your screen... it's kind of blurry because he was chasing you and you were laughing so hard that you couldn't hold the phone steady, but you love it. You love the man in the picture, you love that he can make you smile through memories, even during tough times.

"Baby?" You hear through the speakers of your phone. A lump immediately forms in your throat and you painfully swallow. "Baby, can you hear me?" He tries again.

"Yeah, I'm here," you respond, quietly.

"Holy fuck, doll. Can I... Are you busy? Are you doing anything right now?"

"No, i'm home," you mumble.

"Can I come see you?"

"Toji..." you start, your tone conveying what you haven't even said yet. Your uncertainty.

"Baby, we have to talk. It's been a week and-- This can't be it. Please, just... just five minutes. Five minutes and i'll go."

You know it won't be five minutes. You can't force a solution out in five minutes—not a sincere one at least. Some part of you is soothed by the sound of his voice, regardless of how frantic and desperate he sounds. That's your love right there, and no matter how much hurt lingers from this whole dilemma, there's nothing you can do about your heart's response to him. So you open a door for him.

"Okay, Toji. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you, pretty girl. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

There's a heavy, tense pause. Neither of you has hung up the phone, because something hasn't been done yet and he knows you know what he wants to hear. It would be enough for him to believe that you haven't forfeited. It would make him feel even the slightest bit of relief if you said those words he's been aching for.

"I love you, too, Toji," you utter, hanging up a couple seconds after.

Toji would be bouncing off the walls if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to you. He's been deprived of any form of love from you for a week and he was starting to go crazy, but hearing you say those words was all he needed for now.

Twenty something minutes later, you get a text from him, letting you know that he's outside. Your heart is in your throat, your stomach keeps flipping, and yet you use all the strength you have to get out of bed to meet him. Though you decide to take your time to get to your front door, you find that you're still there too soon, no time left to mentally prepare yourself for what is about to happen. With a final deep breath, you turn the lock, twist the doorknob, and open the door.

There Toji stands, hand suspended in the air with your spare key pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He steps back instinctively when you step aside from behind the door.

"I uh... I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with me using it, but you were taking a bit, so I thought maybe you'd want me to come in and we can talk inside or... I don't know."

He's rambling, there's a light stubble on his face, he's smiling at you like he always does—like you're his everything. Him being there doesn't actually process in your mind until he speaks up again.

"Hi, baby," he says, softly, observing you like you're some majestic painting hung up in a museum. Your eyes well up and it feels like there's a red-hot metal sphere lodged in your throat. "You're a saint for letting me come here and see you, you know that?"

Out of habit, you nod and mumble out a small, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, doll," he says, reaching for your hands to hold them. He barely manages to grab them, get a feel for your soft skin after so long, before you're pulling them away from him. "No, come on," he pleads, grasping your hands again. "Please? Please, look at me."

"You can't talk to me like that, Toji," you utter, voice unsteady because you're not used to having to stand up for yourself against the one who loves you like it's his life source.

"I know. I know that, baby, and I'm so fucking sorry," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of the shit I said. I was having a bad day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't know what the hell got into me, but please..." he mumbles, bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing weightless kisses on your fingers and knuckles. "Please, I love you, you have to believe me."

"You said..." you inhale sharply, doing all you can to get through this without choking on your emotions. "...you said you didn't have time to listen to me talk about nonsense, and that you wanted peace and quiet for once. Isn't... Isn't that all you get from me?"

"No tears," he says, warm palms moving up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the crystals that glide down them. "No tears," he repeats, softer this time. "This is gonna get worked out, my sweet girl. I swear."

"I don't know how you want me to be," you admit, your voice wavering. "And I don't have the ability to read minds. You acted like everything was fine when you texted me, and then when you got here..." You let out a shaky breath, your hold on your emotions slipping. "I don't want to be upset with you, anymore, but i-i'm trying... It's not right."

It's as if someone is jabbing at his chest over and over again, relentlessly, even when his skin starts to bruise and little pinpricks of blood begin to appear. He hates seeing you this way, especially when he knows he's the reason for why you're hurt this bad. He wants it to stop and for this enormous raincloud above both of you to just dissipate.

"Come here," he says, low, almost inaudible. His hands lower, arms making contact with your sides. It's been too long since he's held you, yet, pulling you in feels as natural as breathing.

Your hands come up to rest on his abdomen, keeping him at a distance. It feels unnatural, because you're so used to letting him handle you like you're a stuffed animal, pulling you around when you're adventuring together and picking you up just because he feels like it. Your mind immediately clouds with guilt at your denial of his embrace, you can't even meet his eyes, opting to look down at where your hands are.

"Please don't," he says, his voice so soft that it makes your chest feel tight again. He grabs ahold of your wrists, just to have some sort of contact with you. His grip is almost entirely loose and you're in control, he won't move until you pull your hands away. "I'm not gonna hurt you like that again."

You love him and you know he needs this—holding you in his arms, your confirmation that it's all going to be okay. You've said it before and the words have become one of his greatest comforts. What could be so bad when you tell him that it'll all turn out just fine?

"We've been apart for too long. A week shouldn't have gone by like this... and, fuck, I know it's my fault. I don't blame you for not wanting to see me, but... please, baby." His thumbs brush the insides of your wrists, eyes never leaving the sadness of your face, regardless of whether you look at him or not. He'll take this over not getting to see you at all, any day.

"Sweetheart."

You sniff, unmoving for a few more seconds. Your heartbeat is thrumming wildly in your ears, almost suffocating you with its relentlessness. It's all you hear, words lost in a spiral of ongoing silence. You still don't look at him when you finally pull your hands away, but you can feel his heavy, unwavering attention on you.

You're glad he doesn't wait for you to give him the green light to pull you in, because you have nothing to say at the moment, and it would be another test of patience. Instead, the second your hands are balled up at your sides, he moves at the speed of a lightning strike, your body colliding with his in an almost aggressive manner—there's an audible thump. His body heat mingles with the cologne on his shirt, the smell coiling around you and rushing through your nose with every breath you take. The feeling is familiar—love, safety, comfort—a second home, all wrapped up in your favorite person.

His hands scrunch up the back of your shirt like he's afraid you'll push him away again. "Baby," he mumbles, his voice almost inaudible. "Don't disappear like that again." A soft breath is expelled from his chest, riddled with the genuine fear he felt that he would never get to see you again.

"I know it's unfair of me to say this. I was an asshole and you were hurt, but, doll... I thought you were leaving me." There's a pause. Toji stares at the ground behind you, his hands deepening the creases he made on your shirt due to his unfaltering grip. "I don't want that."

"I'm not," you respond, heart shaking. "That day... it felt like you didn't even want to see me and you only came over because I asked not because you wanted to." The familiar ache in your chest stirs slightly, but you give it your all to get everything out in a steady and clear manner. "You can tell me you're tired, Toji. That you want to rest in the comfort of your own home, and I'll understand. I don't want to be another cause of stress for you."

It pains him to hear that because you're the one who keeps him sane, the one he thinks about when he settles into bed but can't get to sleep, the first person to know that he's still alive in morning, the one who has made him feel so safe, that he feels no shame when he occasionally calls to confirm that he's still loved by you.

"You're not," he simply murmurs. "It's not true."

"You don't have to worry about protecting my feelings."

His arms loosen around you, the back of your shirt wrinkled but freed from his clutches. Your heart is beating too fast, attempting to leave your chest. Now you're standing up straight, doing your best to not avert your gaze from the man before you.

"You're not a burden to me. Okay?" He says, and you want to believe him because of the way he's looking at you, like he's searching your eyes for even the smallest bit of confidence from you about the fact. "Say it."

The words are stuck, it's visible. Your lips twitch, but your voice doesn't progress. You just look at him, feeling the sadness seep into every part of you.

"You're not a burden to me. I need you to get that through your pretty head, right now," he says, only to feel his own heart skip a beat at your reaction.

"Sorry," you mumble, unable to instantly straighten out the curl of your lips.

In this moment, Toji knows that everything is going to be okay. He hasn't heard you laugh in a week, and though it was only a small, congested giggle, he savors it along with your inability to regain your bearing, like it's his last sip of water while he's stranded in the desert.

"Gets you every time, huh?" He says, his own faint smile emerging.

'Right now', a habitual phrase of his that is meant to comfort you. You've told him before that not everything can be fixed or healed in an instant—things don't work that way—but he never backs down. You've translated it into something akin to a bandage—the words are meant to cover you while you take the time to fully and properly heal. The joy you find in hearing them is a small beginning.

"It's funny," you respond, taking in his amused little grin. God, you missed his handsome face and the way he looks at you like everything about you makes perfect sense to him.

"My impatience is funny to you?" He teases, loving the way you press your lips together before proceeding to nod. He can't even be playfully offended, too entranced by the way you're actually smiling at him. He sighs through his nose and just watches you—admires you for a couple seconds, and when you start nervously shifting on your feet, he pulls you closer to him, his hands on your lower back as your body presses against his once more.

"Can you just say it, please? For me?" He murmurs, recognizing every one of the stars in your eyes. Though he thinks it's a tragedy to have gone a week without this view, he'll make up for lost time by creating new constellations.

"I don't know," you say, softly—filler words, your brain short circuits whenever he looks at you like that.

"For me, baby," he pleads once more. "Just wanna hear you say it."

You hum, unsure of whether you can say something you don't entirely believe. You want to make him happy, you want things to be better, you want to believe what he said—what he wants you to repeat to him, but it's hard. Damage is easy to inflict and hard to heal. It won't go away immediately, no matter how much you love the person who is trying to fix their mistake.

"I don't know-"

"Please?" he blurts.

"Toji, I don't-"

"Pretty please?" he cuts again, seeing the way your seriousness falters like before. Your laugh finds his ears once more, a sound he just wants to keep hearing. The sound embraces him. "With a cherry on top?" he adds, a sly little grin on his lips.

It's getting harder and harder to turn him down. He's precious, he's trying, and you cherish his effort. It's not going to kill you to just say it.

You sigh, "I'm not a burden."

"To who?" He questions, seeking elaboration from you.

"To you."

"Damn right," he says, proud. "We'll get you there. I'm not gonna leave you like this, alright?"

"Okay," you confirm, nodding slightly.

"Can I get a kiss?"

Again, you nod, expecting a quick peck—maybe a few quick pecks, but no, he goes on to kiss you like its been months since he last saw you, not a week. He's desperately chasing after your lips, seeking more and more of what he's been deprived of for too long. In his mind, he says 'never again, never again, never again', because he can't imagine going so long without your sweetness again. Without the softness of your lips against his, without those pretty smiles and laughs being thrown at him. It sounds like hell 2.0. when he thinks about losing it all over again.

"Fuck, I missed this," he murmurs, still just a breath away from your lips.

"Yeah," you respond, eyeing the short little pins of hair that sprinkle over his jaw and upper lip area. It makes you smile, you don't always get to see his face when it's not clean shaven.

"I was in a rush," he explains, unnecessarily, following the way your eyes trace his face.

"Mm," you hum, smiling. "Can I shave your face?"

"You wanna clean me up?" he asks, almost as if he's surprised.

"Only if you want me to. It was just an idea," you say, smiling sheepishly.

To that, he chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks feel warmer.

"Oh, I want you to," he says, leaning forward to peck your lips, luring quiet giggles from you when he doesn't want to pull away.

Now, you sit on the counter of your bathroom sink, with Toji standing between your legs. There's a slight tremble in your hand, spurred on by his hands resting on your hips and the way he watches you with so much focus, trusting you enough to let you do this without a word from him. You drag the razor carefully along his cheek, making sure not to move too fast or use too much pressure.

Toji waits until you're cleaning off the blade to make his move of leaning in to press kisses to your face. Small peaks of foam are left behind on your skin, wiped away by gentle strokes of his thumb.

"I'm about to start again," you say through a laugh, leaning away to avoid ridding his face of all the protective spume on it. The razor remains beside you until he finally behaves himself. He huffs like you've been rejecting his affection the whole time, but nonetheless stands up straight and as still as a statue.

After some time, longer than it would have taken him alone—longer than it would have taken you if he didn't smother you every time you paused to clean the razor—you got it done. You brought back the smoothness of his skin.

"Am I pretty again?" he jests, drying his face with one of your towels.

"Stunning," you quip in response, shifting on the counter to signal that you're going to hop off.

"You're stunning," he says, low, unmoving from where he stands between your legs. "My gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he adds, seeking more of that feeling the flustered smile on your face gives him. "Missed you lots, you know that?" You just laugh and shake your head, like you're silently calling him crazy. "What? I'm serious," he says in response, a soft grin on his face. "Did you miss me? Even a little bit?"

A single second passes by. You can't lie to him and say you didn't. You missed him every single day, through the hurt. Your chest ached and your heart dropped every time you remembered the incident, but your love for him never wavered. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and with how often he tried to reach you, it was nearly impossible not to have him on your mind.

"Of course I did. I took the time I needed, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

"I know, baby. And I would never hold it against you. I'm just... glad I can see you again, is all."

You smile. The gleam and sincerity in his eyes is a wonder to witness and well worth the butterflies that overly crowd your stomach.

"I really did miss you," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "'Lots.'"

A soft chuckle rumbles in his chest, then he leans in close for nth time, peppering kisses across your cheek until he reaches your lips. He can feel you smiling into the kisses, a sensation he yearned for with every fiber of his being for the past week. One of his hands rests on your thigh, caressing the inner part of it, while the other slides up your shirt and settles on your waist. The lip-lock steals your breath away, but even then, you challenge your lungs for your lover's sake, only pulling away when you're a panting mess and Toji's breathing is more audible.

The tension is palpable, the silence loud as you look at one another like you're still taking in the fact that you can be loving towards each other again, in a manner that doesn't derive from guilt for the time that you didn't get to demonstrate how much you truly love each other. Enough to not be able to leave a fresh wound alone, enough to forgive while outwardly expressing that you have not healed but are patient enough to work towards regaining that strength.

"I don't wanna go home," he murmurs, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips before focusing on solely your eyes.

"You don't have to," you respond. "Stay as long as you'd like."

"And if I said I wanted to spend a week here with you? Would you hate it?"

You shake your head. "No, but I think you'd get tired of seeing me all the time."

"You're wrong, pretty girl. Is this your subtle way of saying you're tired of looking at my mug, already?" He asks, lips curling with amusement at your giggle.

"No, I want you to stay," you say, honest.

"Promise?"

You nod, followed by an affirmative hum.

"Say it again," he requests, heart thudding just a little faster when you smile.

"I want you to stay, Toji," you repeat, his name on your tongue causing your cheeks to warm up.

"Again." His hands mold around your hips—squeezing, loving.

"Stay," you say, softer.

He sighs, heavy, an enamored look in his eyes that you have never been able to comprehend. Those dark, viridescent eyes, have a brilliance to them as he looks at you like you're the last good thing he'll ever be able to call his. You're good for him, you're good to him, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you because you gave him your heart.

"Yeah... you're stuck with me here for a week and you're come with me to pick some stuff up from my place, tomorrow. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, with a laugh.

"Now, we get you off this counter," he says, lifting you like you're a teddy bear that he carries around for protection. He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the suddenness. "Hold me tight, baby," he says, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before moving anywhere. A kiss is planted on your shoulder as he turns around to exit the bathroom.

"And now you let me show you some love," he says, low, carrying you to your bedroom.

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i-like-loserz · 2 days ago

Text

breedable

pairing: husband!san x reader

cw: explicit (18+), raging breeding-kink, unprotected sex (no condom, yes other contraceptives), needy/whiny!san, cuteness/sexiness aggression (^^look AT THOSE ADORABLE PICS), not dub-con because you're not actually forcing san to have a child - its just a fantasy and san respects the responsible day dreaming -- oh, and this is NOT beta-read.

wc: 1.6k

note: reverse breeding kink turns my mind into a slushie

masterlist

---

you have a special type of aggression when it comes to your husband.

while there's the usual cuteness aggression that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and tickle him until he's a giggling mess -- or the alternative "awe-infused-aggression," that makes you want to crawl all over him and worship his body (because he's built like a god) -- but this special aggression is a mix of the two.

you call it the "i-need-to-pass-on-his-genes-with-mine" or the breeding-aggression. you see his perfect, docile face -- the cute way his brows scrunch together whenever he's feeling too much, the way his chiseled abs clench as he holds himself back -- and it sets a fire in your horny soul.

typically, when one describes a breeding kink, it involves someone wanting to impregnate the other person in an act of love and possession. of course, the other person is wholeheartedly egging them on because they, too, want to carry their baby.

in this case, however, you work hard to fuck him to get you pregnant.

you may wonder, "is that not exactly the same thing as a normal breeding kink?," which will be responded with a, "no, because san is a smart boy and he doesn't want a child at the moment -- that is, not until you're both done achieving your dreams and settled into a family-friendly environment."

san is the sensible one in the relationship, while you play the role of a feral cat in heat. he always insists on a condom or some birth control while you immediately embrace your inner horny demon and cannot go a week without begging him to fill you up like a boston cream donut.

you often think he's just playing the role of the timid damsel, begging for mercy before getting thoroughly ravished because he always ends up giving in.

at first, this obsession started with an accidental and harmless mistake.

you forgot to get condoms.

neither of you realized it until you stuck your hand into the bedside drawer, only to come up empty handed.

san, the sweetheart he is, offered to run to the store to get some. but before he could leave, you pulled him back and convinced him that one time without it wouldn't hurt. you can always take the morning after pill. right?

and you thought that was that.

but once you saw the way his cute lashes fluttered as he entered you, eyes shiny from how lost he was in the pleasure -- maybe something clicked for you. maybe.

and maybe, when you felt how his body shivered, finally feeling your warmth without any barriers, and how his cock throbbed within you, you knew this would turn into an addiction.

a dangerous one.

then when he came inside, painting your walls in his warmth before pulling out to reveal his sloppy mess, your brain chemistry became altered in a way that would change the course of desires for the rest of your life.

and then, pushing his love back in so affectionately with his fingers, eyes glazed over in awe and hunger, you knew something changed within him as well -- as much as he'd deny it. he already started to get hard again from seeing how he dripped from your perfect cunt.

and so, after that fateful night, you tried to hold back, knowing that taking the morning-after pill often wasn't healthy (and, of course, you and san weren't ready for kids yet).

this didn't stop you from imagining how his cum would feel if there wasn't a barrier between you every time you fucked. or how pretty he'd be as your baby daddy, claiming you as his own as he gives you the perfect little family.

ok, and fine, maybe you 'forgot' to buy condoms a few more times after that. and maybe you made it a habit to make him cum a few times before fucking him so he'd be a little less attentive to the missing condoms just so you can feel him gushing out of you once more.

but that's neither here nor there.

...

ok, so, maybe it was here.

and there.

here, in the house -- on the couch during movie night, on the bed in the morning, on the kitchen counter when you saw him in that cute little frilly apron he borrowed from you, in the shower when he got back from the gym.

and there, outside the house -- messily in the car(s), in a tight dressing room, spontaneously in a lake, in a utility closet at his work (don't ask) -- so you had to find a sustainable solution quickly.

it finally got to the point where you made a doctor's appointment to get on birth control because you knew you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. the pull-out method wasn't going to work for long, and you knew san was struggling to deny your whiny begs to be filled.

now, you can say whatever you want and he'll be the obedient husband that he is.

---

"cum in me, sannie..." you whisper in his ear, rolling your hips and perfectly arching your back so you can press your hot body against his. "don't you want to make me a mommy?"

you admire how his cute face scrunches up as you speed up on top of him. he's flushed a pretty scarlet, from his chiseled chest to his cheeks -- a product of your merciless teasing and edging from earlier in the evening.

"b-baby," he meets your motions smoothly, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggles to bear with the sensations of your soft heat wrapped around him. "fuck, i-i'm..."

"...you're...?" you ask, mockingly. you lightly rake your nails against the back of his neck. the action never fails to make him shiver and buck against you. you let out a short gasp as the feeling of him suddenly fully thrusting into you nearly knocks the air out of you. he's hitting that sweet sweet spot inside of you now -- and it's making you almost as delirious as the man under you.

"p-please..."

"c'mon, hubby, i wanna feel it dripping out of me," you sigh dreamily. your lips barely brush over his neck as you speak, "then you can shove it back in and make sure it keeps, right~"

"yes, yes, anything--" he mumbles, head tilted back in ecstasy. his large hands grip around your waist, guiding your body like a glorified cock sleeve, up and down his cock just right. you swear you're starting to see white spots in your vision as he continues to use your body.

you love it when he's like this. tunnel visioned and desperate to reach that explosive feeling of stuffing you full of his cum. your eyes roll back as he continues to nudge against that soft spot inside of you.

"u-uh, san..." a familiar and addictive exhilarating heat blooms from your core and proliferates through every nerve in your body before you even realize it. you bite your lip to keep you from drooling as your body starts to shake in his hold.

the shockwave of pleasure makes you clench around him, making you impossibly tight around him as he continues to thrust into you.

"fuck," he groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him. he struggles to keep up his pace as he gives into his pleasure. you can feel his abs clench against you as his hips begin to stutter to meet yours. "take it, baby. i need you to t-take it all for me."

"give it to me. i need it."

he pulls your body down and gives one last punishing snap of his hips to press himself deep inside of you as he finishes with a broken moan.

as he cums inside of you, his body trembles, overwhelmed by his orgasm, the press of your perfect body against his, the heated air surrounding the two of you, and the panted breath leaving your precious lips.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close, as he nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing soft and sweet kisses to your sticky skin.

as you both start to calm down, san lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look up at you.

"baby?" he gently brushes some hair from your face so he can get a good look at your flushed expression, "i think i'm ready." he has such a cute little smile on his face as he stares up at you with adoring eyes.

"ready?" you ask, still trying to come down from the pleasure infused fog that has settled over your mind.

"i think we should start baby-making, for real."

a silence sits in between you as you stare at him in disbelief. you weren't expecting your sensible and responsible husband to suddenly propose such a life altering idea to you.

you're suddenly pulled out from your warm post-orgasm deliriousness.

"...san. are you sure?"

he looks down at your connected bodies, at your baby-less stomach and the sticky mess that's now dripping onto his thighs. and then you feel him twitch inside of you.

oh.

"i-- yeah."

not convincing.

(at least not in the state you're in)

"yeah, no." you shake your head, fully aware of his wandering thoughts. "let's talk about this when we're fully clothed, okay."

who knew you'd be promoted to be the sensible one?

#san x reader #san x you #san smut #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez smut #choi san x reader #san choi x reader #choi san smut #san choi smut #san ateez x reader #san ateez smut

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mydear-corinthian · 2 days ago

Text

old man

synopsis - after a mission, you and Bucky were forced to stay in a cabin until Steve and the others arrived. In the middle of a small argument, you said something you regretted… or did you?

pairing - bucky barnes x avenger! reader

warnings - SMUT +18, enemies to ..?, small argument, one bed trope, dom!bucky, overstimulation, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, p in v, (y/n) mentioned once

notes - inspired by that one fic of duncan vizla i read here ^_^ divider by enchanthings-a

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

For how many months was the Avengers' primary mission to locate the small Hydra bases around the world? It's not exactly a new task for you. You and Bucky were assigned to this mission, which involved searching Romanian woods for a batch of super-soldier serum.

It painted the white, cold snow, and the bodies of the Hydra soldiers covered in blood adorned the area outside the small base.

“We got ‘em, Cap,” you said as you touched your earpiece, breathing hard after you just fought the last Hydra men.

“Good. You two must stay put first while the others continue to locate bases in the area. There is a bunker in that location. You and Bucky can stop by there until everyone is done with their mission and then we’ll pick you up.” Steve replied on the comms.

A frown replaced your smile. What do you mean stay on put? With Bucky?

It's not really the kind of person you get along with, Bucky Barnes. He’s mysterious, cold, distant– everything. You don’t exactly have a good relationship with him. The both of you often argue with the smallest things– from a box of cereal, when training, just every single interaction you had with him.

It felt more like divine retribution than an assignment when Steve revealed that you and Bucky would be working together on the mission. Like the universe had looked you dead in the eye and said, “Yeah, suffer.”

Out of all the people they could’ve assigned, they gave him Bucky. The one person you swore you’d never work with.

What a wonderful day right!

"Aw, come on! We retrieved the serums already. Can we just go home and call it a day?” you groaned.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d rather go home. Or into a coma. Whichever gets me out of this faster,” Bucky muttered.

You didn’t bother hiding your annoyance, eyes rolling before Bucky even finished his sentence. It was exhausting to be around him, as if seven years of your life were being chipped away by every second. But he’s right, you’d rather get out of this mess immediately.

The both of you heard Steve chuckled from the comms, “I’m sorry, lovebirds. You guys really gotta wait. Make this a perfect moment to stop fighting each other and offer peace.”

Lovebirds

Fuck that.

“Whatever. Just send us the coordinates.”

“Sending now.”

It took almost an hour to find the bunker. Every step felt slow and heavy, and the entire trail was blanketed in thick snow that was at least a foot deep. The cold wind blew through the trees, and everything was quiet except for the sound of your boots crunching the snow.

When you finally saw it, the bunker looked small — way smaller than you expected. It was hidden at the edge of the clearing, almost buried under snow. The walls were old and rusty, and the roof looked like it might cave in if it snowed any harder.

“What a nice AirBnB huh,” you sarcastically commented as soon as you saw it.

Bucky didn’t mutter a single word and went inside right away. You hurriedly followed him, not wanting to get locked outside. As soon as he opened the door, your mouth hung open.

One bed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You put your go-bag on the little table in front of the bed, exhausted and defeated, while Bucky locked the door firmly and looked for items the S.H.I.E.L.D. had left behind. You removed your black parka jacket and folded it beside your bag. On the other hand, Bucky found two guns covered in a plastic zip-lock that was placed under the bed.

“You gonna shower?” you asked, looking up at him. “You can go first. I’m still arranging my stuffs.”

Bucky simply nodded, not having the strength to argue anymore. He grabbed his whole bag and brought it with him to the bathroom. You sighed, getting up and grabbed the guns. Ripping the plastic open, you inspected them carefully before putting the bullets in then placed both on the nightstand. One for you, one for Bucky.

The mattress was supringsly soft but still small for the both of you. Your head was clouded with thoughts as soon as you sat on the bed. The both of you fight. A lot. Practically every time the both of you talk. And yet… sometimes, you wish we could just sit down and have a real conversation. Just talk. But you know it’s not that easy—especially not with someone like him. He’s so quiet, so withdrawn, like he’s always trying to disappear into the background. You get it. They broke him and made him into something he never wanted to be, and you know what Hydra did to him. Everyone talks about the Winter Soldier as if he were just that. But you don’t care about that. I want to know James. Bucky. The man. Not the myth, not the weapon. Just… him

Your thoughts were interrupted as soon as you heard the knob twisted from the bathroom. Bucky got out of the shower with some new clothes on. The sight was.. something for you to feel things.

The tight active dry shirt was hugging his biceps so much. He was also wearing a plain shirt and his hair.. oh god his hair. It was still a bit wet but god he looks good.

“You can go next,” Bucky said while he wiped his hair with a white towel that was sitting on his shoulders.

You instantly grabbed your clothes and towel to cover up the blush that had appeared on your cheek. Closing the bag, you walked past him and went inside the bathroom.

It was small but it’ll do. It was a miracle that it has a heater— definitely can’t find that in a cabin like this. As you started rubbing soap all over your body, you can’t help but thought of Bucky again. Are you actually having a crush on him?

He’s smart, tall, strong.. and definitely handsome. He might be cold and harsh but there are some times that he’ll ask you if you're okay after debfreifing and he never doubted your skills– which is a big thing for you.

After you finished taking a shower, you found Bucky reading his own copy of The Hobbit. His face looked calm, collected, and.. hot?

"What is up with you and that book?" you asked.

"Huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "That's the 1937 book, right? The one that you've been bragging and literal is old like you."

"I'm not that old," he sighed, putting the book on top of the night stand.

"You're like 120 yea—"

"107."

"Same thing! You even got that old man's attitude."

"Oh really now?"

“You’re so old I bet it won’t even stand up anymore,” you bit.

Oh shit.

You definitely did not dodge a damn missile on that one.

Bucky paused for a bit. He looked at your eyes and god you were terrified. You thought that maybe you slipped through the line with that joke. You were mentally punching yourself. You were waiting for a slap on your face or even a gun but nothing. Why the fuck did you even say that?

It wasn’t nothing.

But his lips on yours.

Bucky’s hands suddenly grabbed your face, firm and desperate, and before you could breathe—he kissed you. Hard. Your heart slammed against your chest, wild and thunderous, like it was trying to answer him.

"You really need to shut that mouth of yours, huh?" he murmured.

Your mouth parted when his tongue brushed your lips, asking for an entrance— wait asking? He didn't need to. He did it right away. Bucky's rough palms guided towards your neck, titling it to taste you more.

"Mmm—" you moaned.

He didn't hesitate to slide his fingers down to your stomach then to your shorts, toying with the garter as he continued playing his lips with your mouth. He swiftly removed your black shorts, together with your panties— soaking wet—, and tossed them somewhere the room.

You whimpered when you felt his fingers brushed your pussy, making a slick of wetness sound. You arched your back and clenched your fists around the bed linens.

"Jesus— you're soaking," he teased.

Bucky's vibranium arm left your face and started to unzip his pants swiftly. His cock sprung free. Hard. And definitely big. Pre-cum leaking out from his swollen tip.

Aligning himself, he began to slide it in— swiftly. Bucky smirked at the sight.

"Oh my god. Fuck— my dick fits perfectly inside you, huh?"

"Bucky! Wa-it—!" you choked.

Bucky was stretching your hole so much that it hurt. You didn't expect for him to be big— THAT big. You can feel his veins kissing your walls, his tip meeting your pelvis aggressively. Your eyes rolled so much you felt like your eyes were facing backwards now.

"You take me so well, doll. You're squeezing me like your pussy knows me, so don't even pretend you don't like this."

As he sank farther, your legs locked with his. You whimpered, groaned, and repeatedly chanted his name as if it were a damned prayer. You never imagined for this to feel good and to be doing this with.. Bucky. Someone who gives you a cold glare. Someone who doesn't even talk to you. Someone you never thought you'd fall for.

Bucky looked at you. Your eyes.

Not with lust.

But a hint of love.

It was wrong, and he knew it. It was wrong for someone like him to fall to a woman like you. He's a murderer. A criminal. A monster. But he shook his head mentally, ignore all the negative thoughts for now.

"F-feels good, Bucky.. aah—"

Bucky's arms were beside you, holding himself as he thrusted in and out. The silver dog tags on his neck moved crazily. His biceps were flexed at his pace. He leaned forward to you until his face was just half a inch apart from you. You can feel his hot breath whenever he groans. You can see how his eyebrows furrowed everytime you clench on him.

You broke the distance; kissing him up. It was sloppy. Wet. Lusful. An action that speaks to continue and pace up. Both of your lips were glossy. You heard him groan again as he went inside deeper. Bucky was hitting the spots that your fingers cannot even reach— and damn he is good at it.

He looked at you with that dumb smirk of his and broke the kiss, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips and his.

"Didn't know that a damn insult is all that you need for me to fuck you like this, hm?"

"Mmp—! F-fuck you, Barnes."

"I am, doll."

Bucky straightened his posture. His metal arm grabbed your left leg and then placed it on his shoulder, allowing himself to push himself even further. You let out a loud moan when you felt him fucking the spongy spot. His head rolled back and eyes were closed from the pleasure.

"Please.. Bucky," you beg as a knot forms in your stomach.

"Please what, doll?"

"'m so close— I think I'm gonna cum.. Oh god!" you writhed.

He let out a chuckle. His pace going faster, harder. More desperate. More power. More possessive.

"Yeah? My girl's gonna come? Go on, doll."

After a few more thrusts, the knot on your lower stomach finally ripped off. You clenched on him as you came hard. You were a moaning mess.

But Bucky didn't pulled out just yet. You felt a cold touch on your clit; his finger circling figure of eights with his thumb. You whined and whined from the continuous pleasure until you felt like it was too much. Too hard to handle. Too good.

"No— wait! Too much, Bucky! I can't!" you whimpered.

"Shh.. I know, doll. But I can't just stop especially when you're still squeezing me."

You curled up your toes, arching your back, and gripped the pillows tightly as the pleasure became too much. You were overstimulated and overwhelmed. The sound of your bodies slamming into each other echoed all over the small cabin. His finger flicking your clit so fast and well until you felt another wave of orgasm incoming.

"Aah!— Too much.. too much! Mmp—"

You finally squirted. Your juices were all over his cock as he continued pumping inside you. A wet puddle started to soak on the white bedsheets.

"Jesus Christ, doll— So good for me. Look at you so vulnerable, so addicted."

Your eyes closed again from the overstimulation. Your legs were trembling. Bucky's pace slowly slowed down and turned sloppy. His moans and grunts were getting louder and louder.

"You were talking shit about me earlier and now I'm cumming inside you," he teased.

With one final deep thrust, he spurted all of his cum inside you— rope after rope after rope, filling you. His head rested on your shoulder for a bit, waiting every drop to store inside your fucked pussy.

Your legs collapsed. Your chest violently heaved up and down. Bucky then pulled out slowly and when he did, his cum dripped down on your ached hole. Letting out a choked moan, you clench on nothing; suffering from the phantom cock.

"All you need is pissing me off so I can fuck you? Very smart idea, doll."

The next morning came. The both of you finished packing. After a few more minutes, the sound of the Quinjet rang into both of your ears. The door opened, revealing Steve and Natasha.

Bucky walked first, holding his black backpack that was hanging on his left shoulder. He greeted Steve and looked at you. You grabbed your go-bag and wobbled to Natasha.

"Woah, (y/n). Are you injured?" the red hair woman asked as she offered her hand to you. "What happened? We'll bring you to the Medbay as soon as we ar–"

"Oh trust me, she's fine. She just did cardio last night," Bucky replied with a smirk forming on his lips before going to the Quinjet.

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "How can she do cardio in the middle of the ni— OH."

#x reader #marvel #marvel smut #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut

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spearofheaven · 1 day ago

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GETTING STICKY.ᐟ — spider-man! toji fushiguro

SUM. breaking the bed with your superhero boyfriend

CONTENTS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem reader. 800 words. unprotected p in v. bed breaking. improper use of webs (mentioned once). dom toji. use of baby and doll.

A/N. no i haven’t worked on the long fic 💔😣

SPIDER-MAN! TOJI whose strength had always been a trending topic in the morning’s edition of the daily bugle after he lifted a subway train with just his web-covered hands without so much as breaking a sweat.

forums on reddit were dedicated to calculating just how much that weighed, each user trying to figure out just how much the masked hero could lift before unanimously coming to one conclusion: spider-man was really fucking strong.

..all dedicated to the same toji who lost track of just how strong he was whenever he was inside of you.

“atta baby, there we-” toji pushed his cock into your slick cunt, pushing through that initial ring of resistance until he managed to bottom out, “-go.”

but then again, how was he supposed to remember when you squeezed around his cock like you wanted to milk him dry? your walls seemed to take the shape of his shaft with ease, gripping around him like a tight vice.

toji gave you some grace—starting off with slow, shallow thrusts. but then you started to whine and wiggle against him. impatient as ever. “go faster, baby, please.” he couldn’t bring himself to deny your needy request, not with the way your hips started moving back, trying to meet him halfway.

even with the webs securely binding your hands together, you were eager. eager to move, eager to grasp whatever you had next to you.

“yeah?” plap! “you can take what i give you? no runnin’ away?” plap! you nodded almost eagerly along to his words, “i can take it, i can take it, toji!”

“yeah, you can,” he almost affirmed, tip kissing your cervix every time he bottomed out. “take everything i give you so well, doll,” toji leaned down, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder while he kept rutting into you.

“f-fuck, just like that! just like that!” your moans bounced off the paper-thin walls, almost molding into the perfect symphony with each loud squelch! and fwap fwap fwap! your slick coated his shaft completely, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets.

“just like that?” toji punctuated his mocking words with a slam of his hips, “just like that? yeah, baby?” you nodded like a bobblehead, burying your head into your pillow to attempt to muffle your moans.

the bed started shaking underneath the two of you, screws clobbering onto the floor. toji didn’t seem fazed that you were sinking inch by inch, fingers rubbing at your clit with quick precision.

“toji, toji, toji!” each moan of his name was like pure music to his ears, his hands instinctively gripping your waist all that much tighter.

“toji, the bed!” your warning came out a loud mewl, finally registering in his mind. your fingers dug into the silk sheets underneath, eyes rolling back while your cunt gushed around his shaft like a broken faucet.

the bed in question creaked on its hinges, headboard slamming against the wall with each sinful thrust of his hips. “mhm, what about the bed?” he drawled out, “use your words, doll.”

before you had the chance to respond, the bed gave out. one minute you were several feet above ground and the next, you were on the floor with what remained of your bed frame. “…the bed’s gonna break. again.”

“whoops,” the bark of laughter that left his lips let you know just how sorry he was. you smacked the side of his arm, only making the man laugh harder. much to your displeasure. you looked around at all the scattered pieces of chipped wood on the floor, the wooden frame completely annihilated.

“where are we supposed to sleep tonight?” the million dollar question. toji simply shrugged, leaning over and pressing a kiss on your shoulder. he seemed more worried about undoing the strings of webs on your hands.

“i’ll fix it tomorrow. don’t worry so much, baby,” toji uttered, completely distracted and blissfully unaware. his lips moved up to gently suck on your collarbone.

“toji, there isn’t anything to fix.” you gestured to the mess surrounding the two of you, making him look up.

“huh,” he noted, standing up from his spot before extending his hand out to you. toji cleared a little path onto the corner of the room where the two of you wouldn’t get a splinter, “we can just buy another one tomorrow.”

“the guy at the furniture store’s gonna give us a weird look. it’s our third time buying a bed frame in less than a year.” the man had already questioned the two of you when you went two months ago with this same problem.

his hands went down to rest on your hips, holding you close to him, “so?” even with a broken bed, the man was completely unbothered. “we’re giving back to the community ‘n stuff.”

and almost like that wasn’t nearly bad enough, a bright yellow noise complaint notice was plastered smack middle onto your creaky, unfixed door the next morning.

the sales clerk at the furniture didn’t seem to take it the same way when the two of you walked in the next day, immediately giving you both a dirty look. “another one? the last was supposed to be heavy duty.”

you wanted the ground to swallow you full.

and toji simply seemed amused. his scar stretched as his lips curled into a subtle smirk, like he was proud of himself, “we need a titanium one. last one wasn’t that heavy duty.”

#【⏻】 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐗: fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x female reader #fushiguro toji smut #toji smut #toji scenarios #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x female reader #jjk scenarios #jjk drabble #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji

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lilirae00 · 17 hours ago

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Hard Launch - Part 2

Paige x Azzi

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, you've been warned. Minors DNI. Also more fluff and fun interactions with the team afterward.

a/n: After part one, I really had more little scenes I thought worked well with this idea of the aftermath of the hard launch so I made a part two. Just some sexy times after the charity gala and fun conversations about the future. Enjoy!

Hard Launch Part One HERE

—-

The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Paige exhaled slowly, pressing her back against the door, her chest rising and falling like she’d just finished a game. She looked across the room at Azzi—barefoot now, her heels dangling in one hand, the soft silk of her champagne-colored dress glinting in the low apartment light.

“You know,” Paige said, voice husky, “I’ve been trying to keep it together all night.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Yeah? You looked pretty composed to me.”

“That’s because I had to be.” Paige pushed off the door, walking toward her with purpose. “But now that we’re home… I don’t have to pretend.”

Azzi tilted her head, teasing. “Pretend what?”

Paige stopped in front of her, eyes roaming her face, her neck, her body. “Pretend I wasn’t picturing this the entire night.”

Azzi’s breath caught just as Paige leaned in to kiss her—soft at first, just the brush of lips, but then deeper. Hungrier. Azzi dropped her heels to the floor and reached up, undoing Paige’s tie with practiced ease.

“You’re gonna ruin this suit,” she murmured between kisses.

Paige smirked against her mouth. “It was always for you to take off.”

They made it to the bedroom in slow, stumbling steps—Paige’s jacket hitting the floor, Azzi’s dress unzipped and slipping down her back. When Paige pulled back to take in the sight of her, nearly bare and glowing in the soft bedroom light, she froze.

“You’re unreal,” she whispered. “Like… I don’t even know how you’re real.”

Azzi stepped close and hooked her finger into the waistband of Paige’s briefs and started pulling them down. “Then maybe you should stop thinking and start showing me.”

They kissed again—deeper now. Azzi moaned when Paige’s hands slid down to grip her thighs, lifting her up with ease and lowering her gently onto the bed. Paige kissed down her body, murmuring between each kiss: “This… is… mine.”

Azzi arched under her touch. “Yours,” she echoed, breathless.

Paige took her time, exploring every inch of skin with mouth and hands—pressing kisses to Azzi’s collarbone, the curve of her breast, the dip of her stomach. Her touch was both reverent and hungry, like she was worshipping and claiming her all at once.

Azzi shivered under Paige’s mouth, fingers threading through her long blonde hair with a breathy sigh. Paige moved slowly, pressing kisses to the soft skin just above her hip before her hand drifted lower, sliding between Azzi’s thighs.

She paused there, letting her fingers brush gently, feeling how wet Azzi already was. Azzi gasped and lifted her hips into the touch instinctively.

Paige’s lips curved into a slow, approving smile against her skin. “You’re so ready for me,” she murmured, voice low and thick with want.

Azzi’s breathing stuttered, her eyes heavy-lidded as she met Paige’s gaze, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

Paige let her fingers linger, stroking softly, feeling Azzi grow even wetter under her touch before finally pulling back just enough to look at her, desire burning in her eyes.

When Paige reached toward the nightstand drawer, she paused, fingers hovering over the harness. Her voice dropped into something quiet, hesitant.

“Can I use it?” she asked. “I really want—need you to ride me.”

Azzi’s eyes darkened instantly. She nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Paige kissed her, then got up slowly, strapping in with practiced hands, her jaw tight with anticipation. Azzi watched her, lips parted, chest rising, already curling her fingers into the sheets.

“You sure?” Paige asked again, crawling to lie back on the bed.

Azzi pushed herself up and swung a leg over Paige’s waist, hovering just above her stomach. Paige could feel the slick heat dripping onto her skin, making her breath hitch. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Paige kissed Azzi’s jaw softly, voice steady and low. “Hold still for me.”

She let her fingers slip between Azzi’s thighs, moving gently, gathering the warmth and slick there with patient care. Azzi shivered under her touch, breath catching.

Paige met her gaze, eyes dark but full of tenderness, as she smoothed the wetness carefully over the strap. “Just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” she murmured, pressing their foreheads together, sharing the quiet heat between them.

Azzi closed her eyes, exhaling shakily, leaning in so their noses brushed. “I’m ready, P. I want you.”

Their mouths met again, slower this time—hot and full of intent. Paige’s hands gripped her hips as Azzi shifted up, angling herself and slowly sinking down.

Azzi let out a long, broken moan as she took in the full length, her voice high and desperate, filling the space between them. She couldn’t hold it back, the sound raw and needy, making Paige’s breath catch in her chest.

Paige watched as Azzi sank down, groaning beneath her. “Fuck, Azzi… that’s hot.”

Azzi leaned forward, planting her palms on Paige’s abs, grounding herself as she began to move up and down—slow and rolling, grinding down hard enough to make them both gasp.

With every thrust, the base of the strap dragged perfectly against Paige’s clit, tricking her body into believing she was the one sinking into Azzi’s heat, feeling her pulse and clench around her.

“Look at me,” Paige said, her voice thick and rough as she reached up and squeezed both of Azzi’s breasts into her hands.

Azzi obeyed, eyes locked on hers as she rocked. “I love how you look at me when I’m like this.”

“You ride me like you were made for it,” Paige muttered, hands moving down to Azzi’s hips, then to her ass, guiding her movements, helping her grind harder, deeper.

Azzi moaned and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Because I was. I am. I love making you lose control.”

Paige’s breath stuttered in response. She shifted, sitting up straighter so their chests pressed flush together. Her arms wrapped tight around Azzi’s back, locking her in.

She pressed hot, messy kisses to Azzi’s collarbone, lips parting around her skin as her teeth grazed just enough to draw a gasp. Then she softened it with her tongue, murmuring against her skin.

“Fuck,” Paige rasped. “It feels so good.”

Azzi whimpered, rolling her hips in slow, grinding circles that made them both moan. Her fingers tangled in Paige’s hair, tugging lightly to tilt her face up, kissing her with messy, open-mouthed hunger.

Paige kissed her like she needed oxygen, hands gripping Azzi’s back, guiding her movement as she pressed her hips up into her. They stayed locked like that for a few heated seconds, breath mingling, tongues meeting, before Paige finally broke away for air, panting.

She loosened her hold and let herself fall back onto the pillows. Paige’s eyes were dark, wanting, but steady. She let her hands settle on Azzi’s hips, fingers digging in with intent.

“You’re doing so good, mama,” Paige said, voice low but clear. “Let me see you take it.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at the command. She straightened her spine, bracing her hands on Paige’s stomach as she began to move—lifting herself slowly and then sinking back down with a moan, letting Paige see everything. Paige’s eyes tracked every movement, jaw tight, breath coming faster.

Azzi built her rhythm, finding the right angle that made them both gasp. Paige’s hands slid down to grip her ass again, helping her move faster, deeper. The wet sound of them meeting filled the room. Paige’s head fell back, eyes fluttering shut with a raw groan.

Azzi let out a ragged moan, breath hot and uneven. “Shit—my legs are burning for you,” she panted, voice thick with heat and pride. She didn’t slow down, rolling her hips even harder, wanting Paige to feel every bit of how hard she was working to make them both come.

Paige’s eyes snapped open, locking on her with wild need. Her voice cracked with urgency.

“Don’t stop,” Paige growled, breath shaking. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Azzi whimpered at the praise and the command, obeying immediately—riding her harder now, hips slamming down in quick, desperate rhythm. Their skin clashed, the air thick with ragged breaths, low moans, and whispered words.

Paige’s breath stuttered, her hand moving between them, fingers brushing Azzi’s clit just enough to make her hips jolt in response. “You’re perfect,” Paige whispered. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Azzi gasped, leaning down to bury her face in Paige’s neck. “Only yours.”

“Then don’t hold back.”

Azzi rolled her hips faster now, matching the rhythm of Paige’s thrusts. The slap of skin meeting skin echoed softly, the air thick with ragged breaths, low moans, and whispered words.

Paige’s breath caught as she watched Azzi move over her, strong and gorgeous and completely hers. All the tension she’d carried from the press conference—the fear, the nerves about going public—melted away with every roll of Azzi’s hips.

This was Azzi proving she was hers, and Paige felt like she’d break from how much she needed it.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” Paige said, her lips brushing Azzi’s shoulder. “God I needed this… to see you like this. After tonight, after everything…”

“I know,” Azzi replied, her voice trembling. “You have me. All of me.”

Paige kissed her again—deeper now—as her hand moved between them, adding more pressure just as Azzi’s body began to shake.

“You close?” she whispered.

Azzi nodded against her lips. “Yes right there… baby, please—”

Azzi’s hips ground into Paige with quick, desperate rhythm, and Paige could feel her own release approaching fast.

“Fuck, I’m close too. I wanna hear you, baby,” Paige panted, voice rough with need. “Let me hear how good it is. Don’t hold back for me.”

Hearing that was all the permission Azzi needed to let go. Her body tensed, breath shivering before she cried out, voice ragged.

“Fuck—Paige—you feel so good—I’m coming—don’t stop—”

Paige watched in awe as Azzi threw her head back in pleasure and cried out. She lifted her hips to meet Azzi’s erratic rhythm, helping her ride out every last wave of it—until Paige’s own release overtook her.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” Paige moaned, gripping Azzi’s thighs tight, her fingernails digging in deep as her whole body shook with pleasure.

When Azzi finally collapsed onto her—skin damp, body spent—Paige gently brushed her curls away from her face.

“You okay?” she whispered, kissing her gently.

Azzi mumbled, still breathless. “Just needa minute.”

Paige smiled and held her closer, heart full and chest heaving. “You’re everything to me. You know that, right?”

Azzi nodded against Paige’s chest.

For a long moment, neither of them moved—just the quiet rhythm of their breathing syncing as the world outside their bed disappeared.

Paige pressed a kiss to the top of Azzi’s head, lingering there as she whispered, “Take a breath, baby. I’m gonna pull out.”

Azzi inhaled, slow and steady, and Paige gently eased out from under her. Azzi let out a sleepy sound of protest, but Paige just smiled and smoothed a hand down her thigh before slipping off the bed.

In the dim glow of the lamp, Paige unbuckled the harness and set it aside, then padded barefoot into the bathroom. She ran warm water over a soft washcloth, testing the temperature on her wrist before wringing it out. She took a deep breath, still catching little sparks of her own release buzzing through her limbs.

When she returned, Azzi had rolled onto her side, eyes barely open, but waiting for her. Paige climbed back onto the bed and wordlessly settled between her legs, her touch slow, reverent.

The first press of the cloth made Azzi flinch slightly.

“Too much?” Paige asked softly, brushing her knuckles over her knee.

Azzi shook her head. “No. Just… really sensitive.”

Paige’s expression softened. “Okay. I’ll be gentle.”

She moved with care, dabbing the cloth along the inside of Azzi’s thighs, catching the wetness between her folds with slow, deliberate motions. She wasn’t in a hurry—this was just as intimate, just as important.

Azzi’s fingers found Paige’s forearm, grounding herself in the contact. “You always take care of me like this.”

Paige looked up, her voice warm and low. “Of course I do. You gave me everything tonight. I just wanna make you feel safe. Loved.”

“You do,” Azzi whispered. “Always.”

Once she was done, Paige tossed the cloth to the floor, climbed up beside her, and tucked Azzi in against her chest. Their skin was still warm and slightly damp, but neither of them cared. Paige wrapped a blanket over both of them, her chin resting on Azzi’s hair.

Azzi’s voice came out drowsy. “You think we’ll always be like this?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

“Even if we’re on opposite sides of the court?”

“I’ll still be yours,” Paige murmured. “Same team, different team, together or 1000 miles apart...”

Azzi let out a long exhale before finishing Paige’s sentence, “We gon ride till the wheels fall off.”

Paige smiled and pulled Azzi closer, “that’s right.”

The room fell quiet, the only sound a gentle hum of the air conditioning and the soft brush of skin on skin as they slowly drifted into sleep—held, known, and wholly loved.

—-

As morning came, the sun leaked slowly into the room, slanting golden across tangled sheets and bare bodies. Paige stirred first, still half on her stomach, cheek pressed against the pillow. She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting.

Beside her, Azzi was curled inward, one leg tangled with Paige’s, arm draped over her waist, hair spread out across the pillow like a halo.

For a few long minutes, Paige didn’t move. She just watched her sleep, felt the weight of Azzi’s body against hers, and let the silence wrap around them like a blanket.

Azzi shifted slightly, brow furrowing like she could feel the eyes on her. Her voice was low, barely a whisper.

“You’re staring.”

Paige smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re pretty.”

Azzi cracked one eye open, smirking. “That’s the only reason?”

Paige leaned in, kissed the tip of her nose. “That and… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this calm.”

Azzi stretched out a little, limbs brushing against warm sheets, body still sore in the best way. She let out a low, sleepy groan, burying her face in the pillow for a moment before turning to look at Paige.

Paige watched her with soft, half-lidded eyes, one arm tucked behind her head, hair messy from sleep. She reached over and traced lazy circles on Azzi’s hip with her thumb.

“You okay?” Paige asked gently.

Azzi nodded, voice still rough with sleep. “Yeah. Just… a little sore.”

Paige’s hand drifted down to Azzi’s thigh, fingertips skimming over the skin there. She paused when she felt the faint crescent-shaped marks she’d left behind last night, the little indents from where her nails had dug in. Her chest tightened.

“Too much?” Paige asked quietly, her thumb brushing carefully over one of the marks.

Azzi’s lips curved into a slow, tired smile. She reached down to cover Paige’s hand with hers, squeezing it. “Not too much. Just… enough to remember how good it was.”

Paige let out a small breath, relief clear on her face. She pressed a soft kiss to Azzi’s temple. “You’d tell me if it was too much though, right?”

Azzi nodded immediately. “Of course. You’re always careful with me. Even when you lose it a little.”

Paige gave a sheepish little laugh. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Azzi glanced down at where Paige’s fingers still rested over the marks, then back up at her with a spark of heat in her sleepy eyes. “I like having proof,” she teased softly.

Paige’s mouth quirked in a warm, crooked smile, eyes softening. “I just want you to feel safe.”

Azzi leaned in and kissed her gently, lingering. When they pulled back, their foreheads rested together.

“I do,” Azzi whispered. “Always with you.

They laid like that for a while, quietly tracing skin, exchanging sleepy kisses, wordlessly soaking in the peace of being known. There was nothing to explain. Nothing to run from. Just the soft, golden hum of morning and the solid weight of each other.

Eventually, Azzi lifted her head and smiled. “Want to go get breakfast?”

She glanced at the clock. “Or more like brunch.”

Paige yawned and buried her face into Azzi’s neck. “Only if you promise to let me order something ridiculous.”

“Like a tower of pancakes and a mimosa the size of your face?”

“Exactly.”

Azzi laughed. “Deal.”

—-

They didn’t try to hide.

Paige wore joggers, a Wings t-shirt, and a messy bun that Azzi had playfully tugged into shape before they left. Azzi threw on a cropped tee, biker shorts, and sunglasses, letting her curls live wild and untamed. They didn’t match, didn’t coordinate, and didn’t care.

The place was a little hole-in-the-wall brunch spot Paige had found during training camp. It had outdoor seating, terrible parking, and some of the best French toast in Texas.

They sat outside, elbows brushing, legs tangled under the table. Paige poured syrup over her pancakes with alarming precision while Azzi scrolled through her phone, snorting at DMs.

“Oh my god,” Azzi said, holding up a screenshot. “Someone made an edit of us from the red carpet with the caption, ‘the WNBA power couple we didn’t deserve.’”

Paige peeked over and smirked. “Accurate.”

Azzi scrolled further, snorting. “People are seriously shipping us so hard. Look at this—‘Queens. Soulmates. I’m crying.’”

Paige raised an eyebrow, cutting into her pancakes. “As long as they don’t know what we did last night, they can write whatever they want.”

Azzi’s jaw dropped, eyes wide. “Paige!”

Paige just shrugged, lips twitching. “What? I’m just saying. You were… pretty loud.”

Azzi kicked her lightly under the table, cheeks pink. “Stop. Oh my god.”

Paige leaned in closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Azzi couldn’t help it—she laughed so hard she snorted, burying her face in her hands. “You’re the worst.”

Paige grinned, eyes warm and shameless. “You love it.”

They were halfway through breakfast when a teenage girl hovered at the edge of their table, fidgeting with the strap of her backpack.

“Um… sorry to bother you,” she said, voice trembling slightly. “Are you Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd?”

Azzi smiled gently. “We are.”

The girl beamed. “You guys are… like, my favorite players. I just wanted to say that what you posted last night? It was really cool. You’re both so cool.”

Paige’s smile softened, a hand instinctively resting on Azzi’s knee under the table. “Thanks for saying that.”

The girl glanced around. “Would it be okay to get a picture?”

Azzi stood first. “Of course.”

They posed together—Paige towering slightly behind, Azzi at the girl’s side, all smiles. When the girl left, practically floating, Azzi sat down and looked over at Paige with raised brows.

“You okay?”

Paige hesitated. “I wasn’t sure what it’d be like… people seeing us after getting that confirmation.”

Azzi reached across the table, lacing their fingers together. “But?”

Paige looked at her like the sun had just risen again. “But I think I’m gonna like this.”

Just then, someone from a table nearby called out, “Hey! Go Wings! And congrats, y’all look amazing together!”

Paige flushed a little but didn’t let go of Azzi’s hand.

“I think I’m really gonna like this,” she said again, smiling wide.

—-

The next night was one of Paige’s rare nights off from the game of basketball—no games, no practice. Just a quiet night out with friends.

The four of them sat at a corner table on the rooftop patio of one of Dallas’ trendiest restaurants—string lights twinkling above, live music floating from the bar inside, and the scent of grilled steak and warm bread drifting in the air.

Paige had on a purple button-down with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, one arm draped casually behind Azzi’s chair. Azzi wore a sleeveless cream top tucked into high-waisted jeans and looked impossibly good, not that Paige was keeping score.

Across the table, Dijonai and NaLyssa were already mid-banter, cracking jokes over their drinks like they’d been waiting for an audience.

“Oh I know,” Lyss said, swirling her margarita, “this girl convinced her college team she was straight for two whole seasons.”

“I didn’t say I was straight,” Nai defended with a smirk. “I just… didn’t correct anyone.”

Azzi laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

Paige groaned. “Why is it always us getting called out?”

Lyss grinned. “Because now you two are all over everyone’s for you pages with your soft launches and slow burns and ‘who’s the top’ Twitter threads.”

Azzi leaned into Paige’s shoulder, smiling proudly. “That’s what makes it fun.”

“You know we were rooting for you the whole time, right?” Nai said, resting her chin in her palm. “Like, even before you ever said anything. Lyss literally said when we watched the draft, ‘They’re either dating or practicing for a rom-com.’”

“I did say that,” Lyss confirmed with a satisfied nod.

Paige chuckled, cheeks warm. “Well, you were right. Sorry we didn’t give you the hard launch sooner.”

“We’ve been there,” Nai said, voice softer now. “We know it’s not easy.”

The table settled for a moment into that comfortable space only people with shared experience can reach. Paige reached for Azzi’s hand under the table, squeezing it once.

“So, Az,” Nai asked after a few bites of food, “you declaring next year?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it’s always been the plan. I’ve been trying not to overthink it.”

“You’ll kill it,” Nai said with full confidence. “You’re already league-ready. And if you end up here with us? That’s just bonus.”

Lyss smiled across the table. “Seriously. It’d be dope to have another couple in the locker room. You two would take all the heat off us.”

Azzi laughed. “You say that like y’all aren’t fan favorites.”

“Yeah, but we don’t get edits with angel wings and background music,” Lyss teased.

Paige leaned back, playing it cool. “What can I say? We’re marketable.”

Azzi elbowed her lightly. “And humble.”

Lyss raised her brows, then tilted her head slightly. “So, real talk—have y’all talked about what next year might look like? I mean… with the draft, long-distance again, different cities maybe?”

The question wasn’t pointed—it was kind. Genuine. But it still made Paige pause.

Azzi answered first. “We’ve talked about it. It’s still early, and obviously I don’t know where I’ll end up. But we’ve done the distance thing before.”

“And survived it,” Paige added. “Barely.”

That made Azzi laugh, but she squeezed Paige’s hand again.

“We’ll figure it out,” Azzi said, her tone soft but solid. “We always do.”

Nai nodded. “That’s what it’s about. Doesn’t matter where you play, just that you stay on the same page. It’s the league, yeah—but it’s your life too.”

“You don’t have to do it how anyone else did,” Lyss added. “You can build it your way.”

Azzi smiled at them. “Thanks. Seriously. It means a lot coming from you two.”

The rest of dinner flowed easy—swapping rookie stories, trading gossip, laughing over Nai’s ongoing beef with her DoorDash driver. At one point, Azzi reached for a fry from Paige’s plate and Paige caught her hand mid-air, mock scandalized.

“Boundaries,” Paige said, holding her plate protectively.

“I shared my dessert with you!”

“That was voluntary.”

“You’re in love with me!”

“Barely.”

Azzi shoved her anyway and Paige kissed her cheek mid-protest, drawing a chorus of teasing whoops from across the table.

By the end of the meal, the check arrived with a note from their server:

“Go Wings! Good luck later this week!”

They all smiled.

—-

The next day at practice, the ball thudded against the hardwood as Paige hit another pull-up jumper from the elbow, the sound sharp and clean in the mostly empty gym. A few players lingered for extra reps, but most had already hit the locker room.

Paige stayed behind, rhythmically grabbing her rebounds, one after the other.

“You tryna make the rest of us look bad or something?”

Paige glanced over her shoulder to see Lyss walking toward her with a towel slung over her neck and a knowing smile on her face.

“Just keeping my hands busy,” Paige replied, catching her own rebound and tucking it under one arm.

Lyss raised an eyebrow. “Your hands or your head?”

Paige sighed, then offered a small grin. “Both.”

They walked to the bench and sat, sweat still drying on their skin.

“I’m assuming this is about Azzi,” Lyss said, gently.

Paige didn’t answer right away. She stared down at the basketball between her hands. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation we all had at dinner last night.”

She paused before adding, “I know me and Azzi are good…we’re solid. But sometimes it just… hits me, y’know? This league is a grind. Long seasons. Different cities. The pressure. The travel. The media. I just—sometimes I wonder if love like this fits into something like that.”

Lyss nodded slowly, giving her space. “You’re asking the right questions.”

Just then, Nai came around the corner from the weight room, spotted them, and walked over mid-sip of her protein shake. “What’d I miss?”

“Paige’s existential love crisis,” Lyss said casually.

“Ah,” Nai said, sitting on Paige’s other side. “Classic.”

Paige smiled despite herself.

“Listen,” Nai continued, nudging Paige’s shoulder with her own. “When Lyss and I were on separate teams, it sucked. We were lucky if we saw each other twice a month during the season. You know how we made it work?”

“Tell me.”

“We wanted to,” Lyss said simply. “That’s it. That’s the whole secret. We both decided to try, even when it wasn’t convenient. Even when it was hard.”

Nai leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You love her, right?”

“More than anything,” Paige said instantly.

Lyss smiled. “Then you’re already doing the hardest part.”

Paige blinked.

“Letting yourself love someone that deeply and not holding back?” Lyss added. “That’s scarier than any travel schedule or media headline. And you already did that.”

Paige looked between them, the weight in her chest loosening just a little. “Thanks. Really.”

“That’s what teammates are for,” Nai said, patting her back.

“Now go home to your girl before she calls me asking if you died in the gym,” Lyss teased.

Paige stood, tucking the ball under her arm again. “Y’all are soft for being so good at advice.”

“And you’re lucky we like you,” Nai called after her.

—-

Paige let herself into the apartment with a slow exhale. Her body ached from drills, but her head was clearer. She dropped her gym bag by the door, pulled off her shoes, and wandered in—

And paused.

The apartment smelled like lemon and fresh linen. The floor was clean. The dishes were gone from the sink. The laundry was folded and stacked neatly on the couch.

And Azzi stood in the middle of it all, barefoot in soft shorts and one of Paige’s oversized sweatshirts, hair tied up, AirPods in as she folded the last towel and hummed along to her music.

Paige didn’t say a word. She just watched, heart thudding in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend doing something so simple—so deeply thoughtful—without ever needing recognition.

Azzi finally noticed her and pulled out one earbud. “Hey babe.”

Paige walked toward her slowly, set her water bottle on the counter, and wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, burying her face in her shoulder.

“You okay?” Azzi asked, arms wrapping back around her instinctively.

“I love you,” Paige mumbled. “So much it hurts sometimes.”

Azzi pulled back just enough to see her face. “You good?”

Paige nodded, eyes soft. “I was overthinking earlier. About the future. About how we make this work once you’re in the league.”

“And now?”

“Now I realize I’m an idiot for doubting us,” she said with a small, emotional laugh. “You cleaned our whole damn apartment while I was out spiraling.”

Azzi shrugged. “I know how your brain gets. Figured a little peace and quiet might help.”

Paige’s throat tightened. “Well… it worked.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her, long and slow.

They ended up on the couch with tea and leftover cookies, knees tangled, Azzi tucked under Paige’s arm.

“So… what do you want next year to look like?” Paige asked quietly, running her fingers through Azzi’s curls.

“I want to get drafted. I want to play hard. I want to prove I belong in the league.”

“You will.”

“And I want us to stay us. No matter what. Even if I end up in Minnesota and you’re here. Even if we don’t always have nights like this.”

Paige nodded. “We will.”

“We’ll just have to work at it. Like Lyss and Nai did.”

Paige smiled. “I had a long talk with them today.”

Azzi glanced up. “Yeah?”

“They made me realize something. All the external stuff doesn’t matter. Not if the person you’re with makes you feel like home.”

Azzi kissed her collarbone and rested her head back against her. “Then I’m always gonna make you feel like home.”

Paige exhaled slowly and contently, brushing hair off Azzi’s face.

Azzi grinned sleepily, voice muffled against her. “Think we should post a thirst trap next?”

Paige let out a low laugh, pulling her closer. “God, I love you.”

Azzi buried her face in Paige’s neck, giggling. “Just saying. The people are hungry.”

#pazzi #paige x azzi #azzi fudd #paige and azzi #paige bueckers

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eupheme · 2 days ago

Text

— through the garden

logan howlett x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 2.4k

tags: mutant!f!reader, (newly) established relationship, domestic predator/prey, a chase through the grounds, two cuties in love, flowers as a physical & metaphorical symbol for love, outdoor sex, PiV, creampie

a/n: part of heat waves. a little summer blorbo series ☀️ I imagined the reader in this to be the same as from eden - back when they first met 💖

“Think you’re cute? Tryin’ to run.”

The hot exhale of breath makes you shiver, even as you smile, “Didn’t think you’d catch up so easily. Thought I lost you in the garden.”

Logan scoffs, grip tightening, “Could find you anywhere, sweetheart.”

His voice pitching lower then, something just for you.

“Can’t hide from me.”

Logan finds you in the garden.

You hoped he would. Needing the open sky above him after so many hours spent inside training - almost as much as he needs you.

Finally leaning into that pull that has been woven between you since the beginning.

Taking root, blossoming in your ribcage until you felt full to bursting. Biting back soft sentiments, knowing it was too soon to voice something your heart had known for so long.

A silhouette that starts dark against the stone walls of the mansion. The familiar white tee and worn blue jeans streaked with a sunset of pink and orange as he moves closer.

That steady pace that you had picked up on, kneeling in the dirt. Weeds yanked from the root, exchanged for fresh bulbs. Eyes flicking towards the sounds of his steps. Slowly rising, and you wait - the heavy weight of your responsibilities shed out here.

Leaving just you and your thudding heart behind.

Your gaze meet his, that pretty shade of brown and green. Close enough now that he can catch the flash of your teeth with your grin and then -

You’re running.

There’s a surprised huff behind you - you can picture his frown, that drawn-together pull of dark eyebrows. A heartbeat passing, before the thud of his boots follow.

You knew he would. Unable to help, after he saw you. Some animal part inside him let free - enticing him into the chase.

Only your knowledge of the grounds and lightness of foot keeps you a step ahead. A laugh echos in the hedge garden - the press of your feet against worn stone, weaving down the paths. Ducking around berms, flowers that spill over in shade of pink and pale cream.

Following a trail you know as well as the back of your hand. Leading you deeper, and deeper into the grounds.

Anticipation spikes, with each heavy step behind you. The thudding spike of excitement and fear blending with the hope that he will catch up.

Heat already pooling low, with that tell-tale twinge of need. Damping the fabric between your thighs, as you flit through the thick line of trees.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin, sweat beading at the nape of your neck.

Just managing to make it through to other side. The long, dirt path before you, framed with the thin, pointed junipers you’d had tended yourself.

Only the roof of the mansion visible behind you through the tall grove as you peel off to the left, and race towards the lake.

The steps behind you coming faster on open ground, as your heart inches up your throat. Unhindered by the weight he carries now, making up for the time spent winding through trees.

Finally catching you, at the old tree by the edge of the water. Arms encircling your waist, ensnaring you as you gasp with surprise and pleasure.

A nose buried in your neck, as Logan crushes your back against his chest. Ignoring the way you wiggle in his grasp, the words almost growled out.

“Think you’re cute? Tryin’ to run.”

The hot exhale of breath makes you shiver, even as you smile, “Didn’t think you’d catch up so easily. Thought I lost you in the garden.”

Logan scoffs, grip tightening, “Could find you anywhere, sweetheart.”

His voice pitching lower then, something just for you.

“Can’t hide from me.”

And you know what he means. That it’s useless to try, not with his senses.

Not with the honey-sweet stickiness between your thighs, his own personal bouquet. A reveal one he loosened during one of your early nights together.

On another evening, you might be embarrassed. Reminded again how he must have known how you felt long before you told him. Cataloging the thundering of your heart. The look in your eyes, the perfume that bloomed across your skin.

Holding himself back for weeks, waiting for you to come to him. To finally take the offers he’d been dangling, wrapped up in slick innuendo - for what they really were.

The butterflies in your stomach burst from their branches. A thrill igniting, pulsing low. Awakening that dormant part inside you, one that wouldn’t mind a chase like this again.

And he senses it - that change inside you, as you squirm to face him. The way your eyes darken when they finally meet his own blown-wide ones, that hitch in your breath.

“And what are you going to do?” You manage, “Now that you caught me?”

His own gaze turning greedy. The flash of teeth in a knowing smile, before his mouth presses to yours.

Letting you feel what the chase - what you - did to him. His tongue dips against the seam of your lips as your hand flattens over his racing heart. How he tugs you flush until it’s impossible to miss the thick bulge in his jeans, straining against the zipper.

The words growled out, with the rut of his hips.

“Gonna take what’s mine.”

Your moan is swallowed, as you’re lowered with him. Tucked against the tree where so many afternoons had been spent beneath the sprawling branches.

Turning pages and lesson plans jotted down between stolen kisses.

Thighs split to make room for him, as the setting sun is blotted out by the breath of his shoulders. Arching over you - unable to stop touching, now that he has you.

It’s almost like you glow beneath him. The pleased curl of your lips, eyes half-lidded. Soaking in the sun all afternoon, warming you down to your bones.

Turning your limbs leaden, as he molds you to fit him. Elbows braced on broad shoulders as your arms twine around. A broad hand spanning across the small of your back, as you let him steal another kiss.

And then another.

You part for him. Moaning into the lick of his tongue. Fingers twisting into thick, dark hair - mussing its careful styling.

All the while his own hands wander. Nearly as methodical as the chase - brushing over learned places that send a shiver down your spine.

Jaw and neck, the pad of his thumb running over your sternum. A knuckle teasing the curve of your breast, as your teeth press against his lip.

Lower, lower.

He cups you, then - a palm curving against your cunt. Hips shifting, as he groans in your ear. Fingers toying at the hem of your shirt, inching it up until his other palm can slip beneath.

Kneading at your breast, feeling the tight bud of your nipple beneath the thin bra.

“We should-“ The start of a protest is half-hearted.

Your game had taken you away from the garden grounds. Unlikely to be disturbed this late in the evening.

And already you’re pressing into his touch - rolling your body until the heel of the hand below grinds against your clit.

“Don’t make me wait.”

Another moan slips free at his words - half command and half plea. Your own fingers sliding from his biceps, the fabric tugged taught over them. Up to lace behind his neck, and draw his mouth down to yours again.

Hunger licks at you both - in the part of your lips, how eager he is to deepen it. Your legs close around his hips as he leans into you, the hand leaving your core so his thigh can press between yours.

His hum echoing yours as the seam of your shorts pull taut, hinting at friction as he gives you something to grind against.

Relief and the need for more twisting together, as he flexes into the roll of your hips. Another nudge and then another, until your own plea slips free.

“Please, Logan.”

There’s another hum, amusement at your impatience - only breaking the kiss long enough to hike your thighs up. The hand leaving your tits to hook around your shorts and underwear. Yanking them down as your knees press against his chest, as his other hand works at the thick, silver belt buckle at his waist.

A sigh against your lips, as he tugs himself free. Pressing you back into the cradle of strong roots as he ruts against your thigh. Hot and heavy, smearing his need against your skin until you manage to reach down.

Fingers encircling the thick shaft of his cock, tipping it until the head nudges against your slit.

Logan is already bucking forward. Knowing you can take it - could smell how ready you were the moment he brought you to the ground.

“Fuck.” It’s ground out, as your heat wraps around him. The slick slide as he sinks in one inch, and then another, “S’what you needed, isn’t it? What you were waiting for.”

“Yes.” You pant, back arching, “Yes, I need it. Need you.”

Eyes fluttering as your ankles end up braced against a shoulder. The bite of his nails against your calf as he seats himself inside you, another betrayal at how deep his need runs as well.

Enough that leaning into it. Near bending you in half in an attempt to get closer. Needing to feel every inch notched deep inside you, pressed flush until the coarse hairs at the base of his cock tease at your clit. The slick drip of your cunt sticky against the heavy sack that rests against your ass.

Stripped down to your bones, you’re just like him.

Needing this as much as he does, still basking in the open air and the sinking sun above, even if you do have to bite back your sounds.

“More.” You manage instead, when he takes too long.

A rough sound in response, almost a growl, before it’s almost becoming too much. Another sharp, single thrust has you fully split open, before he begins short snaps of his hips to keep you full.

Bliss radiates inside you - your fingers quick to drift down, across your belly. Teasing at your clit, as his hands tighten around your legs. Using the leverage to lean back - to watch - as he’s dragged half-way out. The slick sound as he thrusts back in.

How your fingers twitch and stutter. Pressing harder. Lips parting in a pant as he sets a steady rhythm, thighs smacking against the curve of your ass.

Letting your fingers fist in his shirt. Wrinkling the fabric as your hips try to move to meet his. Gasping breath each time he stokes against a spot that brings out the midnight stars early.

Winding you higher, higher. A babble of “yes” and “please”, and “oh my god, don’t stop-“, tumbling from you over and over.

The seeds planted with the first steps of your chase starting to push to the surface, as your fingers trace down to feel him. A low grunt as they tease along his shaft, only to pull more of your slick arousal back up to the throbbing between your thighs.

His gaze snaps back to yours when the words peter out - catching the way you’ve gone stiff, breath held. Eyes half-lidded as your muscles flex beneath his palm, how your fingers move faster as you tighten around his cock.

“Logan-“

“I know.” It’s gritted out.

“Know you’re right fuckin’ there with me. Wanna feel you squeeze it, honey-“

The words cut off, with his groan. The long strokes turning shallow again as he grinds himself deep. His hands dropping to the gnarled roots below, the crack of bark as he chases his own end. Another sharp rut, before he’s spilling inside you.

Your answer is a loose tumble of sounds as you follow, with the throb of his cock. Fingers rubbing soaked flesh as the feel of the warmth spreading inside you sends you over the edge.

A cry cracks through the evening light, as the pleasure bursts from you. The small peppering of buds across the roots of the tree unfurling - petals twisting open as you pulse around him. Stretching out in all directions, blooming over your skin and twisting up the trunk of the tree.

The prick of rose thorns against your wrist. The petal unfurling on the peonies beneath you, as his hips slow. Camellia and gardenia worn like a second skin.

Out of season, but not for you.

It’s lucky, that he has his claws. The punch of metal through flesh, reflecting the sharp grin as he carefully cuts you free.

You’d be one with the earth, without it. Broken down into your base needs, blanketed the emotions buried so deep inside you.

Funny that the man who caused them, would be the one to free you as well.

Silken petals twirl between blunt fingers. A flash of red before the bud is tucked behind your ear. A rose blooming against your temple.

Logan’s expression must match yours, as his arm stretches out. Leaning into this garden you’ve created, cushioned with the physical manifestation of your heart - now worn so clearly on your sleeve.

“Yours, huh?” It slips from you. A call back to earlier - those growled out words as you wriggled in his arms.

“Yeah.” It’s husked out, “That gonna be a problem?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you grin.

“Never.”

There’s a low huff, his own laugh, as his eyes tip up to the sky.

It used to bother you. The blooms. How obvious they made you feel. Nothing hidden, in the sprout of petal across your skin.

But right now-

You don’t think you’d have it any other way.

It takes longer to move. To find your leaden legs again. Tugged to your feet, heat warming your cheeks at you fix your clothes back in place.

Still not ready for the gossip. The teasing, despite everything and the affection laced within the words.

The grounds are dark now, as your hand fits in his. Taking the slower route back home, down the path and through the forest. The mansion looming back into view, as you’re drawn back into your life, once more.

“Logan, wait.”

You almost forget.

The blissful smile faltering as your bare feet dig into the ground. Plucking at the petals that still linger in your hair, trying to rid yourself of the evidence.

Still shy, at the way he affects you. How he makes you lose control - your shared tree will surely remain adorned, until tomorrow.

Hands close around your wrists. The brush of a thumb against your pulse, where your heartbeat thrums. Halting you, drawing them back down as he takes you in.

“Don’t.” Logan husks.

“I like ‘em.”

thank you so much for reading!! 💐 it seriously means the world 💖

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlet smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x mutant reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader

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selunefae · 1 day ago

Text

a/n: first time doing headcanons. :p wanted to try it bc they're quicker to write. i was at the gym and got inspired. xD

masterlist | rules

Gymbro!Caleb who notices you the first day you step a foot into the gym. It’s not every day a cutie like you walks in, all nervous and tugging at your sleeves as you squint at the machines like they're some kind of torture devices.

Gymbro!Caleb who's always there at the distance. All big arms and even bigger chest, tank top clinging into his skin and leaving little to the imagination. You can't help but glance his way every time his muscles flex as he finishes a series. He's always wearing that gentle smile that makes it hard to focus on your reps.

Gymbro!Caleb who finally makes his move when he catches you struggling at the hack squat machine – legs shaking, form all wrong, far too much weight. He starers at you for a moment, then walks straight over with no hesitation and that damn smile. "Here, let me help you."

Gymbro!Caleb who absolutely didn't need to get that close to help you. His chest brushes your sides, one arm around your waist as he adjusts your back. From this distance, you can catch traces of his smell. The faint smell of sweat, faded deodorant, and something distinctly masculine. You're too dazed to protest.

Gymbro!Caleb who somehow always ends up at the gym during your sessions. Monday before work? He's there. A late friday evening? Still there. And every time, he finds a new excuse to keep lingering. "Want to take turns in press?" or "Let me lift this for you."

Gymbro!Caleb whose hands trail lower with every interaction. One day it's his hands brushing your stomach, another day his fingers ghost your thighs. And you don’t stop him. In fact, you start to look forward to those moments.

Gymbro!Caleb who visibly stiffens the moment another guy talks to you. His smile drops, his jaw tightens, and his brows knit together like he’s about to lift the entire gym floor. The guys always end up storming off when he appears behind you, but an instant later, he acts like nothin happened.

Gymbro!Caleb who starts bringing you snacks and protein-packed meals to eat after workout. At first, it's "I made to much and don't want it to go to waste", but two weeks pass by and he’s still doing it.

Gymbro!Caleb who smirks every time you mess up a set and get really flustered, just to brush it off with “Don’t worry, i’ll help you with whatever you need.” And he means it. But he wishes you needed him for more than just your reps.

Gymbro!Caleb who offers to walk you home one night after a late session and waits outside your building until he sees the lights in your room turn on. He doesn't care if he lives on the opposite side of town.

Gymbro!Caleb who’s never flat-out told you how he feels, but shows it in the little things he does. He wipes down every machine before you sit on it, never leaves until you're done, and makes sure you're eating enough.

Gymbro!Caleb who’s clearly into you, but you still think he’s just being nice.

Gymbro!Caleb who finally snaps when a cocky newbie tries to flirt with you near the dumbbell racks. He steps in mid-sentence, voice low and one hand resting on your shoulder. “She already has a trainer.” And suddenly, he’s twice his size and the guy’s gone.

Gymbro!Caleb who leans in right after, close enough that his breath warms your cheek: “Guess I’ll have to make you mine before someone else tries to snatch you.”

Gymbro!Caleb who drags you into the empty yoga studio that night, presses you against the wall, and kisses you like he’s been holding back for months. One of his hands traps you as the other hugs your waist, his kisses are hungry and messy. You let him, because you've been waiting to.

Gymbro!Caleb who might be territorial and a little too possessive, but completely melts the second you tug his hair and push him down.

Gymbro!Caleb who lets you take the lead, savouring how you rub agaisnt him as you continue desperately tugging at his hair and clothes. He could easily overpower you, but he likes seeing you in control. He likes that you think he's wrapped around your fingers, and maybe he is.

Gymbro!Caleb who still cooks for you after that night, who still checks your form and counts your sets and glares down every guy who glances your way. Especially now. Because now, he’s finally claimed you, and he’s not letting anyone else have you.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb xia #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader #caleb love and deepspace #caleb smut #love and deepspace caleb #smut #reader insert #female reader #love and deepspace smut

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sailor-alt · 2 days ago

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Waiting just outside the doors, I can hardly hear the auctioneers voice over my own beating heart. The sidewalk I stand on is pristine, kept tidy so that none of the fat cats in this part of town need to think about dirt. In my worn clothes and muddied shoes, I stick out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, I don’t need to be here very long.

Being the art piece of a building that the auction hall is, it has a massive skylight right above the patrons’ heads. It’s just a little cloudy today, casting small shadows into the room below. Perfect. I breathe slowly before finally casting my spell.

The clouds shift in shape, coming together to form my message. It’s simple, but effective.

“The end is near. The rich will burn.”

Then I wait. A moment goes by. One startled shriek. Then another. And another. The chair legs scrape across the ground as each person leaps to their feet. The room is in an uproar now. The security guards scramble to calm everyone and find the source of this seemingly divine message.

I slip in the back, right to the safe room where they’ve stored the goods they’re about to auction off. They won’t miss just one or two priceless antiques.

You only know one spell, and it isn’t even a high-level spell. But between its versatility and your creativity, you’ve still made a name for yourself.

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ichorai · 2 days ago

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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.

#thunderbolts x reader #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts bob x reader #thunderbolts bob #robert reynolds fanfiction #robert reynolds x you #robert reynolds fanfic #thunderbolts fanfiction #robert reynolds #bob reynolds fanfiction #thunderbolts

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mona-risms · 2 days ago

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hear me out.. polytrix x reader where fem!reader doesn't know about the whole demon hunter thing and is still under the hypnosis from the saja boys and the girls try their hardest to snap her out of it. 🫦

◆ MAIN COURSE: poly!HUNTR/X x fem!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: None

◆ NOTES: This might've SLIGHTLY teeny tinily missed the point but I hope you still like it!! I can't make a full-blown fic without getting paid bc I'm broke as hell and I'm lazy so the most you're getting is the usual hcs and snippets I fear 💔. But anyway I LOVELOVELOVE POLYTRIX 😩😩😩😩😩 I think they should all kiss together and kiss me too

This is the funniest shit ever and no one can tell me otherwise bc you've got three ninja popstars and one perfectly normal human being who just really really loves K-Pop. And you all LOVE each other????? #holyfcknairball no one would believe you until you show full proof that yes you do in fact kiss those celebrities on the mouth! Every day actually! Unless they're on tour but still! Yes you are a girls only poly couple! You couldn't be happier!

Unfortunately bc of the fact that you're normal, you won't even know that the hot new boy band, Saja Boys, are all drawing people in via brainwashing to sacrifice your souls to a Demon King named Gwi-Ma that looks like an oversized wildfire. Said people includes you I fear 💔💔. Imagine you were out coincidentally and you got to witness their debut performance and you were so drawn to them!! Why wouldn't you be??

They hear your voice before they see you—right there, right near the front row, right in front of them.

"What's she doing here?" Mira hissed, though despite her tone, the concern was glaringly obvious.

"I think she wanted to buy something? She said about baking," Zoey answered, her own concern matching up with Mira as she bounced on the balls of her feet in an attempt to both alleviate her sudden restlessness and to see you from the crowd. "But-- But what if they try to grab her? [Y/N]'s at a very grabbable distance! And the worst thing is I won't even blame them—she's really grabbable in general!"

Zoey doesn't even finish before Rumi's weaving through the crowd in an attempt to reach you, "Either way, no one is getting grabbed, least of all our girlfriend."

When Rumi does reach you, she taps your shoulder to gain your attention. Without fail, you turn around and smile widely in recognition, "Ru-- Ahem, babe! Did you see how good this new band was? They're called the Saja Boys!"

"Yeah. I heard."

Usually, you would've noticed her sudden deadpan, but you were buzzing too much under your skin from the sudden excitement of this new debut so you barrelled on, "Maybe you and them'll even collab one day! Wouldn't that be awesome?!"

"Yeah, awesome, now c'mon, we need to get out of the crowd," she effortlessly twines her fingers in yours, which you reciprocate happily as you follow her while still going on about the Saja Boys. But when she dares to look back at the boy band, she noticed the black-haired demon in disguise's eyes on you.. and then on her, as if he knew very well what was going on.

When you finally get out of the crowd, you rejoin your other two loves of your life with a cheek kiss for Mira and then a squealing hug with Zoey.

Mira doesn't hesitate to ask as you and the shortest HUNTR/X member basically wrapped yourselves on each other, "Are you okay? They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"Yeah, like, did they ever, I dunno.. suck your soul out or something?" Zoey asked, and then quietly winced as Mira and Rumi both signalled not to say anything with exaggerated expressions and hand gestures behind you.

You giggled at the line of questioning, "What? No? My soul definitely felt like it ascended while watching them, though! You guys are funny."

While you and Zoey were busy clinging onto each other, Rumi pulled Mira in to whisper to her, "They know."

"Know what?"

"That we're linked together in some way? That she's a normal human? I don't know, but they know and I don't want to risk her to find out. Do you?"

And their gazes drift to you as you spoke animatedly with Zoey, equally rambling to you and matching your energy in turn—probably both invested in the situation and also well-aware of the much-needed secret debriefing.

And Mira shook her head with furrowed brows, "Absolutely not."

"Good."

Whenever the girls are all "DON'T FALL FOR THEM" you're so confused bc like. Why?? What's up with them recently???? Ever since the Saja Boys popped up, they've been so weirdly pressed about them every time you brought them up. Like, sure, rivalry's one thing, but you've seen them with rivalries before!!!!! It's not like the Saja Boys have like killed people or smth lmfao it's okay the world's not gonna end if you stan them too (cue the scene with them and Bobby looking at the same city and seeing Two Completely Different Views)

Every time you're ever with them one way or another and the Saja Boys are around/involved they are LOCKING THE FUCK IN. Constantly trying to redirect your attention and theirs like "Do Not Look At Her" and if you ever get too close they'll be all "back the FUCK up actually". And whenever thry try to pull all that hypnotising shit on you they are DRAGGING YOU AWAY and kissing you until you run out of air and forget what you were even thinking about like a min ago 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

They're so much more attentive towards you, and during the two weeks of the Saja Boys being there, you are NOT allowed to be without at LEAST one of them. Why?? Ohhhh yk cuz they just really really miss you, that's all!!!!! They did just come out of a world tour so like they wanna be with you for as much as possible ahahahaha definitely bc the boy band you're fawning over rn are actually demons that want to consume your soul!!! Especially yours!!!!!! Bc they know you're special to them all ahahahahaahahahahahahaahahhaa

Oh but it'd be devastating if Mira and Zoey saw you with the crowd after Rumi's breakdown. Not only Bobby was brainwashed, but so are you, mindlessly following the masses. And as much as they want you to fight it, to remember, they can't even blame you or find the strength; they failed, Rumi hid she was part-demon the entire time, it's over

You'd be one of the people closest to Gwi-Ma's flames on purpose I think—a twisted way for Jinu to make your sacrifice quick and painless. But when Rumi and then Zoey and Mira both clock it? Absolutely the fuck not dude Gwi-Ma just made them even fucking MADDER

At the end of it they know they'll definitely have to explain everything to you, considering. From the Saja boys to Rumi explaining herself properly ALLLLL the way to how they're Hunters and what they do. But at the very least you're not dead thank GOD

"You guys know I don't actually know how to feel right now, right? Finding out that my girlfriends have been constantly getting into near-death experiences as, like, idol ninjas with magic weapons isn't really for the faint of heart—let alone finding out demons and supernatural whatevers are real."

The four of you migrated to Rumi's bed after that whole ordeal at the Tower, tired and exhausted and in need of a good cuddle pile. Right now, you and Rumi were cuddled up against each other, her patterns casting a soft glow on your skin, while Mira was spooning you with her tall frame and Zoey clung onto Rumi like a koala.

The trio had the decency to wince a little, and Mira spoke first in defence, "To be fair, we did get trained for, like, years not to give anything away, including our Hunter profession."

"And I'm your girlfriend," you sighed as your hand traced the jagged glowing lines across Rumi's skin, "I thought we weren't going to hide anything. No wonder sometimes you lot disappear without any explanation—this whole time, you've been.. slaying demons?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You hummed.. before putting your attention on Rumi, "And you. You really think we were going to love you any less because of what you're mixed with?"

"Um. Kinda?" Rumi looked to the side, averting your gazes, "It's-- I was raised to think that I should be ashamed of it, that I need to hide. It's--"

"Why you always have a separate green room?"

"Why you don't go into the batthouse with us?"

Rumi nodded, though not without a flush on her cheeks, "..yeah."

Your gaze softened as you lightly bit your lip before cupping her face for a short but tender kiss, "You think that's gonna really scare me—us—away? Mira and Zoey came back to you after the shock, and I sure as hell don't care if you were part-turtle or whatever--"

"Being part-turtle would be cool! ..Or super slow, depends--"

"My point being," you interrupted Zoey with an affectionate chuckle, "we love you because you're our Rumi. Not an idol, not a demon, just our Rumi—the one that overthinks, overworks and gets so into her head that we'd have to shut it for her. ..No more hiding, yeah?"

Rumi doesn't respond, not for a long while, and thre three of you are content in just laying there in silence, with her patterns casting a brighter yet softer glow on all of you. But eventually she buries her head in your chest, muffling her eventual answer, "..Mhm. Thank you."

Zoey's hold on Rumi tightened as she practically nuzzled into the latter's back, all while Mira reached over to hold Rumi's hand, now back to its human shape compared to the claws she had briefly before. No one else says anything, and that's perfectly fine for the four of you.

"..So I guess I'm retiring from stanning anyone but you guys."

"Obviously!" "Duh." "You are."

#mona's main course...#rumi x reader #kdh rumi x reader #mira x reader #kdh mira x reader #zoey x reader #kdh zoey x reader #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters imagines #kdh x reader #kdh imagines #huntrix x reader #huntrix imagines #huntr/x x reader #huntr/x imagines

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