#and I scroll down to the bottom every day to post

[ominous-signs]

saw this under a bridge across an intersection. who are they...

Official ominous sign

[ichorai]

xerox ; robert reynolds ; part four.

part one. | part two. | part three.

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

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

words ; 6.6k

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

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

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

main masterlist. read on ao3!

xerox's face claim :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John muttered something under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Raspberry s’more swirl?” Bob ventured.

You wrinkled your nose in distaste. 

“What?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

“... Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

“All the time,” you whispered.

“How do you stop it?”

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

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

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

“Who the hell’s Janice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled an awfully wide smile. “Yeah?”

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

“Sure.”

“I’m a busy woman.”

“I’m aware.”

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

“I know, Ava. I got you.”

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

“Mhm. Wait—not even Bob?”

Ava glared at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One second. Then two. 

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

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

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

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

“What—?!”

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

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

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

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

“I’m really happy for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing worked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so warm.”

“Yeah, sorry, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hah. Yeah… fuck h—yeah.”

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

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

“Sorry. Did you fall asleep?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe…” Bob trailed off, muttering.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Silence prickled the air like needles through silk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll miss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Slicked Back & Smitten

Rating: Mature Audiences

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, spicy, wlw smut, mirror sex, Paige's biceps, paige fucking you while having you in a headlock, !top paige, !bottom reader, light oral (fem reseving), !purple strap Paige, !slick back ponytail P (yes this deserves a warning), fluff

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Fandom: Uconn's Women's basketbal

Summary: Slicked Back ponytail P... and she's swollen in the right places too... oh you're down bad baby

Tag: @elliesglock , @elalfywhore , @paxaz535

The morning of the UConn vs. Butler game was absolute chaos. With a 1 p.m. tip-off, I had been up at the ass crack of dawn, running errands before heading to the arena. Meanwhile, Paige was at home, usually getting her game day braids done by Kayla—her routine, her thing.

Except today, Kayla couldn’t do them she was getting over being sick, didn't wanna risk Paige getting sick.

And I? I was too busy being the responsible, errand-running girlfriend to even offer to do them myself.

So, Paige had to figure something out.

By the time I arrived at the arena, the team was already warming up. I greeted a few of the staff members before spotting Kayla on the sidelines, watching the girls get their final shots up before tip-off.

"Did you see what she did?" Kayla asked as I approached.

I was confused. "Who?"

Kayla gave me a look. "Your girlfriend."

I turned my head, scanning the court until my eyes landed on Paige in her love, Abby warm up. And, oh, did my jaw practically drop.

Instead of her signature game day braids, she had done a sleek middle-part ponytail. The gel, the clean parting, the way the ponytail laid so perfectly down her back—it was… different. It was… distracting.

I bit the inside of my cheek, shifting on my feet. "Yeah… I see her."

Kayla snickered, nudging me. "She look good, huh?"

I exhaled sharply, eyes still glued to Paige as she moved across the court, completely unaware of the effect she was having on me. The slick back? The way it emphasized her face, her jawline, her everything? Yeah, it was bad for me.

"Kayla," I started, voice low. "I don’t think you should do her braids next game either."

Kayla howled. "Oh, nah, you down bad!"

I rolled my eyes, pretending like I wasn’t already making plans to personally ensure Paige never wore braids again.

———

The first half of the game was a problem.

Paige was playing out of her mind. She was dropping dimes, hitting threes, getting to the basket with ease—and she looked damn good doing it.

I was trying to focus on the actual game, trying not to be the most obvious girlfriend ever, but every time she drove to the rim, her ponytail swung just right, her edges still perfectly laid despite how much she was sweating.

It was a crisis.

By halftime, I had reached my breaking point.

Sitting in the stands, I pulled my phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as I sent a text Paige wouldn’t see until later.

Me: You need to put me in a headlock when we get back home.

Me: And I need you to consider this slick back ponytail as your new game day hair. Like… permanently.

I hit send, exhaling as I locked my phone. Out of sight, out of mind. I just needed to get through the rest of the game without combusting.

———

Paige didn’t see the message until hours later.

After the game, she had her usual post-game press conference, with Kk and Azzii answering questions about UConn’s dominant win, her own performance, and how it felt playing without her signature braids.

Then came the locker room celebrations, the team hyping each other up, the post-game shower, and finally—finally—Paige was back at our shared off-campus apartment.

Freshly showered, she walked into the bedroom with a towel around her neck, only in her black Nike sports bra and grey boxers sitting perfectly on her waist line, scrolling through her phone finally checking all her notifications.

I was sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly myself, until I saw her pause.

Her head tilted. "What the hell?"

I tried to act innocent. "What?"

Paige turned her phone towards me, revealing my very suggestive text from earlier. "This," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Headlock? Really?"

I shrugged, unbothered. "You read it. You know what I said."

She huffed out a laugh, tossing her phone onto the nightstand before crawling onto the bed. She hovered over me, arms on either side of my head, that damn ponytail still sleek even after her shower.

"So," Paige mused, voice dropping slightly. "You liked the ponytail, huh?"

I reached up, running my fingers over the base of it where she had secured it with a black hair tie. "Liked? Understatement."

Paige smirked, dipping down to press a lingering kiss to my jaw. "Liked it enough to text me during halftime about puttin yo ass in a headlock?"

I exhaled sharply. "I was having a moment."

She kissed the corner of my mouth, teasing me. "Mhm. And what kind of headlock we talking about?"

I rolled my eyes, pushing her lightly. "Don’t play with me, Bueckers."

Paige chuckled, finally kissing me for real, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to rest her forehead against mine. "So… ponytail again next game?"

I nodded immediately. "Absolutely, baby it’s your secret weapon."

She smirked, leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, "Anything for you, baby. Especially when I get to have my way with you afterward."

I shivered at her words, my heart racing with anticipation. There was something intoxicating about the way she claimed me, the way she took charge. I loved every moment of it, even if it made me feel vulnerable.

Paige stood up suddenly, her playful demeanor shifting into something more commanding. “Come here,” she instructed, her voice firm yet sultry. I followed her, curiosity piqued, as she led me to the full-length mirror on the wall, right next to the bed.

“Look at yourself,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against my neck as she turned me to face the glass. I could see the reflection of us, a flush creeping across my cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “But I want you to see what I see.”

Before I could respond, she slowly pulling my satan mini sleep dress, off revealing my body to herself as if she was claming a prize. My heart raced as I realized her intentions. “Paige…” I started, but her smirk silenced me.

“Shh,” she said, a playful glint in her eye. “Trust me, watch me the whole time, ma. ” She walked to the other bed side table to pull out the purple stap, taking the boxers off and expertly securing it around her waist.

I watched her through the Mirror not taking my eyes of her once.

“Now,” she said, walking back to me and now her breath warm against my neck, “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and think about how good you can be for me.”

She wrapped her strong arms around me, pulling me back against her chest, and I found my breath catching in my throat as I felt her biceps flex around my head.

“Paige, I—”

“Good girls do what they’re told,” she interrupted playfully, flexing her biceps around my chin so I could look up see my own reflection. “Look at you. So pretty, so willing. You’re perfect just like this.”

I gazed into the mirror, my heart pounding as I saw the way she held me—her strength juxtaposed against my vulnerability. I felt a rush of heat surge through me.

“Tell me what you see,” Paige urged, her voice steady yet sultry. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I see…” I hesitated, caught between the thrill of her hold and the desire to please her. “I see… me. I see us.”

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice dripping with satisfaction. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she leaned into me, the heat radiating off her. “Now, tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you, Paige,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The honesty of my desire sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that burned deep within. “I want you to fuck me.”

“See? Was that so hard?” she teased, her lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You’re learning.”

Paige turned me slightly, enough that I could see her in the mirror too. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she gazed down at me, and I felt a rush of exhilaration at being at her mercy. “Now, I want you to remember this moment. How it feels to be my good girl.”

With that, she pressed her lips against mine, capturing me in a kiss that was both sweet and demanding. I melted against her, surrendering fully to the sensation of her body against mine. Each kiss deepened my desire, igniting a passion that coursed through my veins.

“Look at us,” she murmured between kisses, her voice low and seductive. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Together, we create magic.”

Once back on the bed she had me face down ass up, still facibg the mirror.

I gasped as she took her tongue and gave my much needy pussy attention, “You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered, her breath warm against my thigh just before kissing and biting at it. “I want to make you feel everything.”

After a few mins of practically making out with my pussy, Paige, pulling me up by my hair before locking my head in her biceps again, her lips brushing against my ear as she trailed kisses along my jawline and neck. I could feel her warmth, her desire, and it sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. “Tell me how it feels, and don't be quiet about it either, baby” she instructed, her voice a tantalizing whisper.

“Good,” I breathed, my heart racing. “It feels so good.”

“Good girls deserve to be rewarded,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk. “And you’ve been so very good, so keep watching in the mirror for me, yeah mamas”

She guided my gaze back to the mirror, forcing me to watch as she explored my body, her hands roaming, her kisses igniting every nerve. “Look at how much you crave this,” she teased, her voice a sultry melody. “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, the thrill of her words sending me spiraling deeper into desire.

“Then let’s make this a night to remember,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief and passion.

Before I could fully process her movements, she had me pinned, face down ass up into the satan sheets, every inch of my body electrified by her touch. The strap slid deeper, an intoxicating sensation that made my heart race and my mind spin.

I could feel every pulse, every inch of her as she filled me, her confidence radiating through the air. Letting out a groan as if she could actually feel me clenching around her. “Fuck, baby you takin my dick so good. Pussy just swallowin me whole, shit.”

“Paige…” I managed to whisper, but the words were swallowed by the thick tension that hung between us. My body was responding, every nerve ending alive with the thrill of the moment. She held me captive, and I was more than willing to surrender.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as she thrust deeper, the rhythm slow at first but building in intensity. I could hear her breathing, a mix of pleasure and desire, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re so perfect for me,” she murmured, a sultry smile playing on her lips. “I could do this forever.”

With every thrust, she drew me closer to a precipice I had only ever dreamed of. The world outside faded away; there was nothing but the two of us, lost in our own universe. I could feel the heat pooling within me, a delicious tension building that threatened to consume us both.

“God, you feel so good,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “I want you to look in the mirror when you cum f'me. Watch yourself fall apart on my shit, ma.”

I surrendered completely, allowing myself to be swept up in the waves of pleasure she was creating. The way she moved, the way she filled me—it was intoxicating. I could feel every inch of her, the connection between us palpable, electric. It was as if we were two bodies entwined in a dance as old as time, a rhythm that only we could hear.

“Paige, I…” My words faltered as she hit a spot that made my entire body quiver. I could feel the tension building, spiraling higher and higher until it felt like I might burst.

“Shh, just look in the mirror and feel,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Her words were like a spell, wrapping around me and pulling me deeper into the moment. I lost myself completely, every thought dissolving into a haze of pure ecstasy. Looking into the mirror watching with way she had my arms pinned behind my back, the determination on her face to make me feel so full. Watching the way my juices leaked on the bed, the way the base of the strap milky white from the way she was pounding me into the bed. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the connection between us, the way she moved, the way she touched me.

As she pushed deeper, I could feel the heat rising more and more, the pressure building within me. I was teetering on the edge, and I could sense that she was too. And as a last minute act she put me in a headlock again, hips still hitting all the right spot. “Yes, just like that, watch yourself f'me” she urged, her voice a low, sultry whisper. “Let go for me. Yeah ma, cum on my dick.”

With a final thrust, everything exploded, watching myself fall apart on the purple strap. I felt the world around me shatter into a million pieces, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

“Just like that, baby. That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her voice a sultry murmur that was so encouraging that I could cum again. “You’re so beautiful when you cum, f'me baby.”

I could hardly respond, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure that coursed through me. I felt her slow down, her movements becoming gentle as she brought me back down from the high. My head resting back on her shoulder for a few seconds before I look at our sweat, cum dripping bodies, in awe

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern flickering in her eyes as they met mine through the mirror.

I nodded, still catching my breath. “More than okay,” I whispered, a smile breaking across my face. “That was incredible.”

Her lips curled into a playful grin, and I could see the satisfaction shining in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before I could fully comprehend her words, she shifted her body, and mine her movements fluid and graceful. The strap was still there, a reminder of the connection we shared, and as she positioned herself above me, as I am now on my back, I felt the excitement build once more.

“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” she said, her voice low and enticing.

With that, she began to move again, her body rocking against mine in a way that sent shivers coursing through me. Every thrust was deliberate, every movement intentional, and I could feel myself responding, eager to meet her rhythm.

“God, you’re amazing,” she breathed, her eyes locked onto mine. The intensity of her gaze sent another wave of heat through me, igniting the fire that had only just begun to simmer.

“Paige, you have no idea…” I gasped, my hands finding their way to her hips, guiding her as I tried to keep up with her pace.

We were lost in each other, the world outside fading away once more. The tension built again, a delicious spiral that threatened to consume us both. I could feel the heat rising, the pressure coiling within me, and I knew we were nearing the edge once more.

“Just a little more,” she urged, her breath coming in quick gasps as she pushed herself closer, her voice laced with urgency. “I want to feel you again.”

With her words, I was gone, the tension breaking like a dam as the pleasure rushed over me once more. I could feel her reach her peak too, our bodies connected in a way that felt transcendent.

As we collapsed together, breathless and spent, I couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, everything felt right. We were two souls intertwined, lost in the heat of desire and the sweetness of connection.

“Wow,” I managed to say, a laugh escaping my lips. “What just happened?”

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Just a little magic,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I think we should do it again.”

I grinned, my heart racing at the thought. “I’m all in.”

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[scap34]

bottom! sub! virgin! Toji x clan leader! top! sadistic! male reader

Turning your hired gun into your partner <3

warning: cussing, dirty talk, degradation, mild manipulation, loss of virginity, sex

The Zenin elders are stupid. You think idly as you look down. 

Dumb fucks that obviously didn’t notice a gem. You think as you thrust into Toji’s tight hole roughly. The man under you gasped, gritting his teeth, his face scrunched into a twisted expression of pain and pleasure. 

He squirmed away from you, unconsciously. You grabbed his bruised ankle and pulled him closer, a strangled moan left his throat, when your cock fully entered him. 

He clenched the sheets under him, with a white knuckle grip. The corner of his eyes reddened and shiny with tears. His eyes refused to meet your gaze as you leaned down, smirking. 

“Too much? Should I stop?” As expected he shook his head, too stubborn to quit halfway. His body trembled under you.

You leaned back grinning. Your hips rocking into his ass, as you took in every soft whimper and moan that left Toji’s mouth. 

It took all your effort not to hold him down and fuck into his tight virgin hole roughly, leaving your claim on him. To watch him fall apart under you, the big man, so small under you. 

Instead you steeled your will. You wouldn’t let this be a one time thing. From the minute you saw Toji. You need him. Under you, sobbing as you fucked him senseless. 

You knew about Toji. Of course you did. Everyone did, even your clan did. The black sheep of the Zenin family, Toji, was a taboo. 

Fucking stupid idiots. 

When you saw him first, he was trying to steal from you. The darkness had barely let you see the man. But when he stepped into the moonlight you could immediately tell. So you did nothing and watched as he snuck out without a single person noticing. 

After he left you pulled up your phone and placed a hit on a man. 

The next day he walked in through the front door instead of the window. More accurately he burst into your room, and tossed a head at your foot. 

Unseeing eyes met your own. It was the man you placed the hit on. A small-time sorcerer that was looking to go big in the wrong places. You looked up at him amused, crushing the head under your foot. Toji glared at you. 

“Pay up.” He said curtly, tossing the scrolls he stole back to you. You caught them and smiled at him. 

“I have a job for you. Sit down.” You said smirking. He gave you a suspicious glare, but you could see his weary shoulders, the grease in his hair, and the desperation in his eyes. Young and desperate. A perfect combination. “It pays a lot.” 

He sat down. 

It was absurdly easy to keep him close to you. A bodyguard post you said to him. He didn’t question it. No one in your clan questioned it. No one would. Other than your brother, you were the strongest. Being a clan leader had its benefits.

It was even easier to seduce him. A few gentle touches, soft glances and forgotten towels, and he was wrapped around your finger. All but crawling into your lap when you called pretty and selling his body to you with false reluctance. 

You hadn’t had the heart to tell him how his eyes betrayed his words. When he looked at you with such trust craving validation, all you wanted to do was to fuck him until you were all he could think about. 

So here you were, pinning the poor man to the bed, taking his virginity. You pulled your cock halfway out and thrust it into his hole. Toji bit his lip and whimpered, muscular thigh flexing like he wanted to break free. But he wouldn’t, they stayed in place, calves hooked on your shoulder exposing his pretty pink hole.

You leaned down, hovering over him. Kissing his tits, you licked his nipple. He arched into your mouth, moaning. His useless cock twitched against his stomach. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” You muttered against his chest, pulling out your cock and slamming it into his hole before he could respond. 

He let out a strangled moan, pretty face scrunched up as he let out muffled sobs. You could take it slower, let him adjust before you fucked him, but you wouldn’t.

It wouldn’t change the way his cock hardened, leaking pre-cum against his stomach. You rolled your hips, watching him twitch and clutch down on your cock with a moan. Large hands gripping your sheets tightly as he whined, so sweetly.

Face flushed, with moans slipping from swollen pink lips, he was a sight. Your sight. Yours to toy with, yours to protect, and yours to fuck. 

His body was so perfectly slutty despite being a virgin. his greedy hole sucking you in, begging for you. He was meant for you, to be yours. And now he is all yours now. All for a measly 50,000 yen. What a steal.

…

Life, it turned out, was hard without skills other than fighting. He’d gotten kicked out of 4 jobs within a week of leaving the clan. Living on the streets left him feeling more exhausted and dirty. 

If he couldn’t find a job outside jujustu, he’d find one within it. He’d be a killer, a hired gun. 

The offer came from a man who claimed to be a handler with promises of money if he joined. He accepted.

Money, was the fucking leading cause of all things shitty. He decided he needed a fuck ton of it. 

His first job was supposed to be simple: sneak into the Gojo clan and steal a scroll. 

But as it was, nothing would ever work out for him. A man was in the room.  A strong sorcerer too. Toji’s body was tense, expecting an attack at any minute as he took the scroll. 

None came. Instead, the man watched him leave. Curious. He didn’t care. 

His phone rang a few minutes from the meeting spot, in the morning. It was the handler, there was a hit placed on the man who asked him to steal the scrolls. 100,000 yen to kill him and return the scrolls. 

He’d known exactly who’d placed that hit. In the cold morning light, he strolled towards the man and cut off his head and delivered it to you. 

You were crazy or bored. He decided when you offered him a job. The rumors about him weren’t pleasant. He knew that. But here you were, smiling at him with that cunning light in your eyes. You, a sorcerer, that was strong enough to probably kill him. 

He hesitated for a second and thought about his life if he left. He’d probably go to the handler and take more jobs. Lose all the money with his shitty luck and end up living in shitty apartments eating cheap noodles. 

“It pays a lot.” You continued.

He sat down. 

…

He didn’t even realize when he got so invested in you. 

You were beautiful. It wasn’t just your face, your body was slender compared to him. Soft hands, and lean fingers that seemed to have never touched a weapon. Even the way you dressed was elegant, traditional kimonos and long sleeved shirts. 

He had fallen for you. You, the Gojo heir, a man he should hate. And yet when you brushed your long hair out the way looking frustrated he could do nothing but pull out a clip he brought with his own money and clip it back. 

The smile you gave him, washed away all the coldness he’d felt since his birth. Like all the cold words, sneers and abuse he’d received was gone, healed by a single glance from you. You were a spring waterfall, cold and bottomless, ethereal in the light, beckoning him to you.  

You, and your stupid mind games were all he wanted. So when you gave him a slutry smile and called him pretty, he immediately gave in, offering his body to you for 50,000 yen. He was worth less than that. He thought, distantly, as your hands settled in his hips. But he could never afford you. 

You were priceless and he needed you. So he played along. You were stupid to think he was the prize when he clearly won you.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Some personal Sylus hcs and hills I will die on

(This was originally meant to be a very short "Sylus hills I will die on" post but then it somehow evolved and became a long-ass list of hills and headcanons, a lot of them NSFW 🔞. Idk how that happened but it did so uhh... enjoy? Except if you are a minor, in which case, keep scrolling)

Will never cheat physically or emotionally. Period. The mere thought of being with anyone but you is both appalling and distressing to him (as per Goodcat Code, the only time we ever see him actually jealous). He's a one woman man and he's locked in for life.

King of Consent, always and forever.

He is not 6'2 are you kidding me. With those proportions? No way. He's 6'5 at minimum.

Smells absolutely divine (I mean, one of his canon hobbies is taking baths.)

Writes poetry. Actually good poetry. The man is a romantic and a yearner at heart after all, and has always had a way with words.

Dislikes cigarettes, but will occasionally smoke a cigar or two (cuz mafia boss. It's a requirement lol. And the visual is extremely hot to me for some reason. Yes, this one is indeed extremely self indulgent).

He has the habit of burying his nose in your hair or in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. It brings him more comfort than anything else in the world.

He is a vers pleasure dom. A soft gentleman dom. Your needs, your pleasure, your consent come above all else.

Hurting you in any way is a major no go. Even should you want him to in the bedroom, he won't do it. He'd never put you in any danger by his own hands. Ever. The furthest he'll go is biting (dragon instinct), the pain of which he'll immediately soothe through kissing and licking. Should you beg for it, the occasional light/safe spanking or whipping is also fine as is, again, light and safe choking if that gets you off. That is all, though. Sylus would rather chug a large tub of wasabi every hour every day for the rest of his immortal life than ever cause injury to his beloved.

Consensual non-con is similarly off the table for him. Because your consent is so massively important to him (and also a major turn on), I can't see him getting off to any scenario where he doesn't have it, even during roleplay.

While he is down to bottom, he is not a switch (bottoming ≠ subbing). Because of his past — the way his agency was brutally taken away from him at a very young age and the trauma it caused him — I believe that control is simply too crucial to him to ever truly relinquish. Losing it would probably be triggering for him. At least at present. Maybe if he were to work through his trauma he could learn to eventually hand over the reins for a while. But for now, I just can't see him fully submitting.

Has body worship, praise, size, and breeding kinks.

Girthy. Size training required.

Favorite place to have sex? Either in his/your bed or in the shower. His private office is a close second, with you either splayed over his large desk or straddling his lap in his luxurious armchair, riding him.

Loves eating you out. It's his favorite meal.

His favored position is missionary because it allows him to clearly see your gorgeous features, to observe the way they contort in pleasure, to greedily drink in the incomparably beautiful expression on your face as you come undone by him. It also has the additional advantage of giving him easy access to your lips, which he loves to claim with his own.

During lovemaking, at least one of his hands will inevitably seek yours, lacing his much larger fingers with your own, and stroking your thumb with his own calloused one. He loves the inherent intimacy of it, how your hand fits so perfectly in his, the way you clasp onto him so tightly, conveying to him your love and your trust — both of which are more valuable to him than all the precious gems in the galaxy combined.

Likes it when you are loud in bed. The ecstacy filled sounds that escape your perfect lips are like music to his ears, and he basks further in the knowledge that he is the direct cause of them. Bonus points if you moan or scream out his name, that will arouse him to the point of nearly coming undone.

Big on cock warming. The inside your warm, slick walls is his favorite place to be. He would probably stay there forever if you consented to it, and if he could only find a way to make it practical. He absolutely basks in the sensation of being so closely, so intimately, connected with you.

The Emperor of Aftercare. Sylus will hold you close and trail soft kisses all over your face and neck, whilst murmuring words of love and praise. Then he'll carry you to the bathroom where a soothing, fragrant warm bath is drawn for you. Once he's lowered you into the tub, he'll personally wash your body with gentle, loving hands. When you are both cleaned up and dressed in comfy wear, he'll procure a nourishing meal for you made from your favorite foods to help you regain your strength. Afterwards, he'll keep holding you in his strong arms for the remainder of the night/day, nuzzling you close.

Huge cuddler and snuggler. Will not let you out of his arms for even a second while in bed together. And can you blame him? He's been without you for several lifetimes, has spent countless nights (or mornings) alone in bed, your absence from his arms aching like a phantom limb. Now that he has you back, he never wants to let you go again. Your presence is as necessary to him as the air he breathes.

Whenever he wakes up before you, he will take advantage of the opportunity to admire your sleeping face. He'll ghost a finger over it, gently tracing your features with a small smile on his lips and a tender affectionate look in his eyes, his heart swelling with all that he feels for you. He can't help but sneak in a few kisses on the top of your head, as light as butterflies so as not to disturb you.

Will 100% cry at your wedding, and when holding your newborn children for the first time. He'll have silent tears streaming down his cheeks and a soft yet radiant expression on his face, making his otherwise sharp and rather stern looking features appear gentle. His bride and his babies are simply the most breathtakingly beautiful treasures Sylus' eyes have ever beheld, and his whole entire being is all but overwhelmed by the fiercest yet purest form of love, immeasurable in its quantity and intensity. Part of him honestly remains in disbelief that said treasures are his, that something this incredible is actually happening to someone like him– "a monster" he once believed incapable and undeserving of love or happiness.

Will only have daughters. In my mind he is so Girl Dad coded that he might as well be incapable of producing any sperm containing the Y chromosome.

Sylus will be the best father a girl could ever ask for. His daughters will never lack for anything, least of all love, support, or affirmation. He is the type of dad who will sing for his children, join them in their games, bake cupcakes with them, hold them in his lap as he attentively listens to them blabber on, comfort them after a nightmare, happily dress up for imaginary tea parties, go to — and if necessary participate in — dance recitals, braid their hair, let them give him makeovers etc. He fosters and encourages individuality, independence, and confidence, but also always lets them know that it's ok to cry, to fail, to ask for help, to rely on others. He is validating and reassuring, never faltering in his emotional support. They can come to him about anything without fear of being rejected or judged. He is a shoulder to cry on, and a confidant always ready to listen and to give advice as needed. From the very day of their births and throughout the entirety of their lives, Sylus will ensure that his daughters will never have even a single reason to doubt that they are the most precious treasures in the Universe to him, and that his love for them is unconditional.

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 2.

Summary - What happens when you meet Lando again? So, this was supposed to be angst only, but ya girl can't post anything without smut, so, enjoy!

Warnings - 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, dirty talk, creampie, angst.

Part 1

The next two weeks following that morning had whizzed by in a blur. Both you and Lando had extremely busy schedules and took every free second you got to text or call each other.

It wasn't easy with the time differences, but the cyber sex was honestly the best you'd had since the start of your 'relationship...' It was intense, mind blowing phone sex, leaving you both desperate and eager to see each other, although you'd have to wait a whole extra week because Lando had some media obligations in America. So that meant it was a whole two more weeks before you could get your hands on one another.

On one particular day, you'd texted Lando in the wee hours of the morning, knowing it was late night where he was, and since he'd said he planned to spend the night in, you were expecting a quick response from him.

You didn't get one.

But you thought nothing of it, not even worrying the slightest bit, and eventually, you got on with your day. It wasn't until evening when you saw that there was still no response for him, though you could see he had been online.

You tried to call him, it just rang and rang.

Still, you didn't think much of it. Maybe he just needed space, and you were happy to oblige.

The next few days as well passed with radio silence from him. You could see from social media that he was out and about, doing whatever media he had to do, getting on with it all, except you it seems, though you willed yourself not to let it affect you.

Newsflash it did.

Deciding it was best to throw yourself into work, you were now working ungodly hours overtime, getting as much done to try and block out the fact that Lando was clearly avoiding you by now. It had only been a week of absolutely no contact, but it definitely felt much longer than that. You missed his goofy laugh, his adorable dimples, his banter, and you missed the orgasms he gave you...you missed his dick.

It was now past 8pm, and after a long day of grinding you stopped at the shops to get some food that you could just throw in he microwave to get hot. Busy scrolling the aisles at your local store then you stopped in your tracks. You'd never miss those god damn perfect curls, even in a sea of a million people.

He had his back to you, and before you mind could make a decision on whether to leave or talk to him, he turned around, bit his bottom lip when he saw you.

It was no surprise that Lando was a handsome man. His physique alone was hot. And so seeing him stand in front of you - in the flesh, already had a wetness pooling through your cunt.

Quickly, you out those thoughts to the back of your mind as he approached you.

''Didn't know you were back'' you said breaking the silence. You were curious to hear what his answer would be, because you were always the first person he'd call the second he was back in Monaco.

''Yeah, just been caught up..'' he trailed, letting out a breath, bringing his hand up to massage the back of his thick neck.

Caught up enough to toss me to the side... you thought to yourself.

It was awkward. Awkward as fuck. The both of you standing there, not knowing what to say to one another. Really, it was a first.

Until...

It wasn't 10 minutes later and you were riding Lando in his McLaren.

Your panty thrown somewhere in the back seat.

You should have known better, should have stopped yourselves, but clearly your pussy, and his dick, had a mind of their own.

You rode him like your life depended on it, watching with hooded eyes as your nipples disappeared into Lando's mouth, his teeth grazing and biting down hard before using his tongue to sooth over your bud.

''Fuck, Lando, yes..ri-right there, please'' you begged as even in the small of his sports car, he was lifting his hips to meet your half way, thrusting in and out of you pussy relentlessly, letting out a series of guttural moans and grunts.

It wasn't even a few minutes until you felt your orgasm nearing, your walls clenching almost painfully around Lando's cock as he bought his hand down to flick a thumb at your clit.

''So tight, fuck..need to stretch you out some more'' he murmured before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

''I'm close'' you barely managed to say between nips and licks, your body was shuddering, shaking uncontrollably as Lando has two tasks at hand - one, keeping your body in control, two, chase his own orgasm.

And not two minutes later Lando was emptying his load into you, sheets of warm cum filling you up to the brink while lewd grunts left his mouth, his dick twitching as you rode him through it.

You finally stilled your bodies, chests heaving trying to catch your breaths as you leaned back and put your weight on his steering wheel behind you.

''Fucking hell'' he said, panting as his eyes stayed trained on the state you were in - disheveled hair, boobs slipped out of your bra and dress, looking red and bruised.

There was an unspoken tension filling up the car, and you could feel him softening inside you, the both of you looking down to the place you were still joined, almost as if you were avoiding looking at each other.

You watched as Lando gently pulled himself out, gasping when he saw a mixture of both your cum oozing out of your cunt, the both of you moaning at the sight, and then suddenly his eyes were trained on yours, as he very quickly pushed his dick back into you, pushing the cum back in.

''Fuck'' he whispered as you let out another moan, your walls clenching tightly around him.

''Lan..'' you murmured, closing your eyes and trying to etch the feeling of his dick inside you to your brain, because something told you this wouldn't happen again, though you prayed you were wrong.

He was suddenly hard again, no surprise to him because just the sight you all fucked out and dripping with his cum got him all excited again. Call it his good stamina.

''Come here'' he softly said, pulling you forward again, your boobs in his face as he lifted you ass up slightly before slamming you down in one hard thrust.

You braced your hands on his shoulders again, leaning down to lock lips with him for the first time since you last saw him.

It was sloppy and dirty, tongue and teeth clashing, almost as if you were just licking each other where possible - not properly kissing, all the while Lando bounced you up and down his dick, each thrust getting harder than each.

You pulled back for air, Lando stuffing his face back into your boobs, letting a series of staggered breaths and groans leave your mouth, feeling your orgasm approaching fast.

''Lando, I- fuck, I can't. Too much'' you were barely able to say. He was being ruthless and as much as you wanted it, your body was overly sensitive today.

''You can baby, one more for me, yeah? Fuck please'' he sounded like he was begging, and how could you refuse him?

You couldn't form any words by now, so all you did was nod your head, while his hand raked down to pinch at your clit.

''That's it baby. Please just be a slut for me. You're already doing so fucking good, letting me fuck you so good. Fuck'' he grunted, through gritted teeth, knowing his dirty words would send you over the edge.

And he was right, within seconds your cum was coating his dick again, your body quivering in his arms again, feeling like jelly, releasing pornographic moans into the confinement of the car.

And Lando - as soon as he felt you walls closing up on him, his own release spluttering his cum through your pussy, warm and sticky as he slowed his movements and eventually came to a standstill.

''Ah, fuck y/n'' he mumbled, causing you to giggle because yeah, ''fuck'' was the word of the day.

You stayed close together, breathing in each others air as your bodies shivered with cool air on your sweat, Lando busying his hands by combing your hair back through his fingers.

This time, he pulled out, and he stayed out, using his fingers instead to gently push the cum back up your pussy before bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean.

And this time, your eyes didn't avoid each other.

Lando kept opening and closing his mouth, wanting to say something though falling short every time.

You didn't miss how his body language changed all of a sudden, how he stiffened underneath you, and suddenly you felt cautious.

It was awkward as fuck - you sitting on his naked thighs, dress bunched up you stomach, pussy bare and leaking, while his jeans and boxers were pushed halfway down his legs, cock soft and twitchy resting against your stomach.

Finally, he cleared his throat. His words knocking all the air out of his lungs.

''I...I'm seeing someone..Magui. I mean. I'm gonna start seeing Magui. So this - he gestured between the two of you - can't happen again.''

Your breath hitched, you could feel the color draining from you face as your own body now stiffened.

He said it so casually, like what you just did meant nothing. Like the last 6 months have been nothing, just tossed off to the side.

''Say something..'' he whispered.

You were sure your words would get stuck in your throat, already feeling your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the whole situation.

Lando was done with you. He basically 'dumped' you while you were both naked in the smallest space possible.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to his passenger seat to grab a tissue, your mind racing as fast as his cars go. Some many thoughts overwhelming you as you willed yourself not to let tears spill out your eyes.

This is it. He's not yours. He's back with her, an ex fling. He's leaving you for her.

''Y/N'' he said your name softly, gauging your reaction.

You sniffled, concentrating on cleaning your cunt - that was still on full display, before you finally pulled your dress down and looked up at him.

Gone was that look that was reserved just for you, and you heart broke at the cold eyes staring at you.

''So that's why you've been avoiding me..? Too busy fucking someone else? Why did we just do this if you're with her? You've just used me to basically cheat on her....thought you'd have more respect for the both of us...'' you questioned, almost whispering the last part, and wincing at your words because you didn't want to know the answer.

Lando coughed, shifting underneath you as he slyly tucked his dick back into his boxers.

''Not seeing her yet...but yeah I guess there are unresolved feelings so we're gonna give it a shot'' he said. ''As for us... guess this was a moment of weakness. But I'm done. We're done.'' he said matter of factly.

You suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe, needing to get out of this space asap because the man in front of you wasn't the Lando you knew.

Not 10 minutes ago was he calling you baby...swallowing a mix of your cum, and now he's done with you.

You're heart clenched not just at the fact that you were losing your fuckbuddy, but Lando as your best friend. From the way he was talking, it was clear that the friendship part of your relationship was also done with.

You needed to get out of here before you broke down in front of him. He didn't deserve to see you vulnerable like this.

So you took one last longing look at him, memorizing each and every freckle and line on his face as you body tingled from the warmth of him.

Surely he could see the hurt on your face, right? He knew you better than most. But still, his eyes didn't soften, nor did his words.

''You should go..now..forget the last few months...'' he said, already moving to open the door for you to climb out of his lap.

You cleared your throat for the umpteenth time today, mind fuzzed when your body finally lost contact with his, and with one last look at him, you turned on your heels, shamefully walking to your car, and not a few seconds later, he was zooming out of the car park.

The next few days were spent wallowing in bed, avoiding any events in town with the fear of running into them.

So George's girlfriend Carmen took up residency at your apartment to keep your mind busy.

You needed to heal, and move on from something that was nothing to even begin with.

A whole week later as you were scrolling Instagram, the photo slapped you in the face.

There he was, with his tongue down her throat, hands groping her ass.

You had no right to be mad, sad, angry, whatever emotions that were over taking your senses. Lando wasn't yours. Not anymore at least. There was never any label between you.

But the more you thought about it, you were more so longing the guy with whom you could talk about anything, truly be yourself around and not get judged for silly things.

The universe had other plans for you though...because in just two weeks time, you were to host an event in London for McLaren. Oh, what could go wrong......

A/N - hope you all enjoyed this...side tracked part! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist - @somanyfandomsbruh @lanf1an @annimausi @ernegren @plotpal @hurtblossom @rbv3rstappen @tylerstacobell @wanderingreigns @bowielovesyou @alexanderachillesisgay @sarx164

[clarkeybabey]

❝ i need you to fill the void ❞

# summary; someone spoils your secret

# playlist; void, the neighbourhood, nothing's gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex.

# word count; 1.2k

# note; freya, faith, and talia cameo, I didn't proofread and I hate this oops.

Have a wedding they said, it'll be fun they said. You can't name a time when you've been this stressed out and anxious in all your years of living. To make it even worse, the one person who could help you breathe through all of this wasn't going to able to see you for another three and a half hours.

Last night, for the sake of tradition, you slept without George for the first time in more than a year. He texted you about a thousand times after you finally fell asleep about how he couldn't wait to be tied to you for the rest of your lives, which meant you woke up in the best of moods despite the lack of his presence.

Keeping everything a secret wasn't hard, since everyone had done it before for Simon and Talia. Unfortunately, some people you thought you could trust with an invitation weren't the most reliable. Your friends were sat off to the side some snapping pictures of you and themselves, others scrolling social media. Freya gasps, she's unable to control the way her lips purse, and brows crease as she turns the volume of her phone down as quick as possible.

You're sat in a chair, your makeup artist hard at work. "Something wrong?" In the blink of an eye, the girls are all standing around Freya, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Talia chews at her bottom lip before speaking, "Y/N, sweetheart, I'm gonna show you something, but I want you to try not to freak out."

You swear you feel your throat begin to close at the slight waver in her voice, now it's your turn for your brows to knit together, "I'll try," you mumble, absentmindedly picking at your manicure.

She makes her way to you as slow as ever with Freya in tow with her phone, which she hands off to you after turning the volume back up, swiping up and back to the video to restart it. You recognize the username as a girl George had introduced you to a few months ago at the sidemen's anniversary party, you don't recall sending her an invitation...

The video begins with a screech from her, "Hi, guys! This get-ready with me is extra special, this time my friend George is getting married," you feel your stomach drop, cheeks warming as she talks about only being a plus one to someone whose name goes in one ear and straight out the other.

"This better be a fuckin' joke," bile begins to rise in your throat and tears threaten to melt away every bit of the 45 minutes spent on your nearly Pinterest-perfect makeup. When you click on the comments you notice there are some from mere seconds ago and steadily continue to pour in, you shake your head hoping someone will pinch you and wake you from this atrocious nightmare, "God, I really wish this was a joke," you whisper, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably.

You look up at the girls around you as you slowly start to crumble under the weight of it all. Faith is typing away furiously, jamming her fingers against her phone screen, you hand Freya her phone back, wordlessly reaching for your own that was laying screen down on the vanity.

When the screen comes to life you see messages, notifications from dms, posts, and tweets you've been tagged in. Nothing really catches your eye aside from two missed calls from George and a few texts just under them.

my fiance 😝😈: call me when you see this please, darling

And you did exactly that. He answers on the first ring, his soft, accented voice filling your ear ripping another sob from your throat, "Y'alright, love?" He asks knowing the answer, hoping to god you weren't on tiktok to see what he'd seen a few minutes ago, but as you cry into the speaker he understands you have.

You shake your head, before remembering that he can't see your actions, "No," you croak, making him sigh and shake his head. This is your day and somehow someone's managed to ruin it for you.

To be completely honest, George couldn't care less about everything being secret, but all you wanted through the whole planning process was privacy, no huge party after the ceremony, nothing.

You didn't want to post anything until you were boarding the plane for your well-deserved nearly three-week honeymoon. And your fiance was more than happy to oblige.

"Can you come here? Please, I couldn't give two fucks about tradition, we're fuckin' tiktokers for god's sake." you pause a second until you hear shuffling on his end, followed by a snort. "I'm already outside, baby," you hear the smile in his voice, you keep your phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder.

When the door swings open, he's standing there looking so damn good in the suit you picked out together so many months ago and it makes you cry even harder, knowing how much of a snotty mess you probably look now all because everything not going the way you imagined.

He wraps you into his arms before you're able to say anything, breathing you in. "You look beautiful," he steps back from you keeping a comforting hand on your hip as he looks you up in down, "this satin?" He asks pinching at the material of your dressing gown, to which you simply nod, your throat still feeling tight.

Of course, he notices how much everything's eating you alive, "I handled it, sweetheart. I figured out who invited her, they know we don't think its a good idea for her to come," he gives you a reassuring squeeze, watching your face closely for any change of expression.

You pursed your lips taking a deep breath through your nose, "Thank you, I missed you so much," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, instead of responding immediately, he chose to envelope you into his arms. Your ear is pressed against his chest so close you can hear his heart thumping against his ribcage, "Missed you more, could hardly sleep without you."

This time when he pulls away, his hands cup your face, and his lips meet yours in what you swear is the best kiss you've ever had, he doesn't keep you like that for as long as you'd like, leaving you chasing after the feeling. He rests his forehead against yours and his hand slips from your cheek to your neck where he feels your pulse quicken.

He breathes you in, this time stepping back for real knowing the girls are waiting for you, "Now go get in the dress I've been hearing about for months, wanna hurry up and make you mine for life."

You smile, the first real one you've worn since reading his messages this morning, "So impatient," you mutter and he shakes his head, swatting at your bum, "I can show you impatient," he quirks a brow, his voice is laced with suggestiveness that's unmistakable

"Later," he raises his hands in surrender as you turn back to the door that's ajar, his hand catches your wrist, turning you around quicker than you could let a gasp escape you. His lips find yours once more and you exhale out of your nose, relaxing against him as he smiles against your mouth. "Now you're free to go," your fingers dance along your now tingling lips, as you watch him disappear down the hallway,

When you return to the girls you almost have forgotten the original situation at hand aside from the fact that maybe every little thing about him is the best.

[delilahsturniolo]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 💌 everything but goodbye . . . c.s

in which . . . you can’t help but keep living in denial

warnings . . . grief, loss, hallucinations due to trauma, heavy and emotional distress & angst, death of a partner, mentions of a car crash, mental health struggles, slight panic attack, no happy ending, plot twist. please read with discretion and remember this is only fiction. i am in absolutely no way romanticizing any of these topics, this is simply for writing purposes, please scroll if you are uncomfortable.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

you don’t remember the first time he came back, only that one day you were alone, and the next, chris was there. he’d always been gentle with you. hands warm, voice quieter than usual. you thought it was because of how broken you were, because of the panic attacks, the way you woke up crying without knowing why, the long silences where your chest ached and your heart pounded and you couldn’t breathe.

but chris never made you feel ashamed. he’d stroke your hair, press kisses to your knuckles. whisper, “it’s okay. i’ve got you.” and you believed him, you always do. even when you couldn’t remember the last time he texted you first. even when his calls never showed up in your logs.

you told yourself, grief messes with time. trauma makes memory fuzzy. maybe you’re just healing slowly. he was here now. that’s what mattered.

every day, you woke up just after sunrise and found his hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. he always left before you opened your eyes, something about “early meetings,” but his scent lingered on your pillow. sometimes he’d show up at night, knocking softly, eyes tired, rain dripping from his hair.

you never asked questions. you were just so glad he kept coming back to you. you have a box of keepsakes you don’t open anymore. photos. love notes. polaroids of the two of you from that summer in hawaii, your legs over his lap, sand in your hair, sunburn on his nose.

you don’t open the box because it hurts. but more than that, you don’t open it because you don’t need to. because he’s still here.

the day everything unravels, you wake up with a strange feeling in your chest. like static. like something important is shifting, and your body knows before your mind catches up. it’s storming outside. thunder rolls low and heavy, and the windows rattle with wind. you wrap yourself in a blanket and pad into the kitchen, hoping chris left a note or a cup of coffee warming in the pot.

there’s nothing. your stomach sinks.

you try calling him, something you haven’t done in a while, because he always just…shows up. but the number doesn’t ring. disconnected. you frown, try again. same thing.

you check his socials. haven’t been updated in almost a year.

weird.

weird.

weird.

your fingers tremble as you open the box you swore you’d never touch again.

inside, everything’s just as you left it, except now you’re seeing it like it’s brand new. a photo, creased down the middle. chris’s handwriting on the back.

our last beach trip. best weekend of my life.

you turn it over. you’re in his arms. his lips on your cheek. but there’s a date written in the corner. almost a year ago.

almost exactly the same week the dreams started. no. you flip through the stack. ticket stubs. a dried flower from the bouquet he gave you on your birthday. a ripped envelope.

and then, at the very bottom, a folded piece of paper you don’t remember ever seeing before. it has your name on it. in his handwriting.

hey love,

i’m writing this because sometimes words spoken aren’t enough. sometimes, life feels too heavy, too unpredictable. i don’t know if i’ll get to say all of this out loud again, so here it is

you are everything. every quiet moment, every laugh we shared, they’re all pieces of my heart.

if tonight is the last time i get to come home to you, please don’t carry any blame.

this isn’t on you. it’s on fate, on chance, on something neither of us could control.

promise me you’ll keep fighting, keep living in color, for the both of us.

i’ll be watching, in every breeze, every shadow that dances with you.

and i’ll be loving you, forever.

so don’t give up on yourself. don’t give up on us.

please.

all my love,

chris.

your vision blurs. your whole body goes cold.

you drop the letter.

and then it all comes back at once.

the sirens.

the hospital call.

his car getting flipped over, all because the rain was too heavy, he went off the road. the letter…he had a feeling of what was going to happen. he knew, his gut told him to write that letter. and that’s why he gave you an extra long hug, and deeper kiss before he left. he only wrote the letter just in case he didn’t come back, little did you both know, he didn’t come back.

all because he was in a rush, picking up flowers for you because you were upset that day. the moment doctors pulled you into a sterile room with shaking hands and quiet eyes and said, “we’re so sorry…we did the best we could..”

you fell apart. and then…you forgot. you forced yourself to forget. and your mind, aching for him, started stitching together pieces of what used to be. it pulled his voice from voicemails. it built his silhouette out of shadows and old clothes. it conjured the ghost of a boy who’d never let you cry alone.

you didn’t heal. you hallucinated love.

and now, now that you remember, he’s gone. really gone. no more footsteps in the hallway. no more kisses to your shoulder. no more “i’ll be back soon.” just silence. you sit on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, as the storm crashes against the windows. and for the first time in almost a year, you truly cry for him.

not a ghost. not a dream. just the boy you loved. and lost. you sit up, frantically shaking your head, dusting yourself off. no no no, what are you thinking!? he’s not gone, he’s still here, obviously.

right…?

© delilahsturniolo

💌: i was afraid to post this

[slightlovelygirl]

⋆˚࿔ but there was a time…; billie x reader

reader joins in on a tiktok trend following breakup with long term girlfriend Billie who of course sees the post 🫀

warnings. intense/distraught heartbreak (implied depression), angst

wc. 1477

7:36 P.M.

You weren’t trying to get a reaction, you honestly didn’t think she would see it.

When a certain sad trend crossed your feed multiple times in one evening you decided to join in. It was fitting, you were still heartbroken. Point blank heartbroken, not a spiteful ex who wanted the other to feel pain—not yet anyway.

It had been just over nine months since you and Billie split. Five years down the drain. Five years of her contact being pinned to the top of your messages screen. Five years of sharing the same bed. Five years of green room pep talks.

Five of the best years of your life, now dissolved in your tears. So excuse you for not being over it quite yet.

Joining in on the trend, you picked a mirror selfie you took earlier in the week: the one of you before going out to lunch with a friend, your face slightly solemn in the dim hallway light.

Taking a quick deep breath you began scrolling back further and further into your camera roll, to a photo you couldn’t bring yourself to delete quite yet. One Billie had actually taken. It was from her perspective as she straddled your body.

The two of you had been play fighting. Billie illegally tickling you despite a pinky promise made not to years ago; it was broken frequently.

“Wait!” She exclaimed suddenly, dropping herself onto you and taking each of your forearms to stop your wriggling.

“Billieee,” you wined. “Get off of me. You’re too heavy.” You giggled from her weight on your stomach.

But she was too busy looking around to hear you.

“Where’s your phone?” She asked and quickly retrieved it from the direction you pointed.

Hovering over you, her face was soon blocked by the double lensed camera.

“What’re you doing?” You questioned, moving your head to see her. She combated your move with her own.

“Stay still. You look like an angel right now.” Her tone was surprisingly serious as she focused.

You rolled your eyes but did as she said, only letting a sloppy smile stay. Your eyes didn’t meet the camera’s though, they stayed concentrated behind it. Peering past it to see Billie, it’s all you ever wanted to see.

After a moment she dropped your phone again, discarding it to a spot next to you on the bed.

“Seriously doll, ‘m gonna have to make that my lock screen. And screensaver. And your contact photo. And maybe even my profile pic. Need everyone to see how pretty my girl is.” Her ramblings interrupted only by a peck from you in between every line.

“Alright Bee. Whatever you say.”

Your hands slightly tremble as you tap on the intimate memory. Images of the way Billie’s bottom lip caught in her teeth while concentrating when taking the picture flooding your already clouded mind.

After selecting the photos you added the trending text. Over slide one you curated a small list of things in your day to day life you’ve changed: a one room apartment, dinners for one, focusing on friends more, and phone on dnd. And over slide two: but there was once a time…

You tried thinking of a lighthearted caption, but your heart was anything but light. You actually wished it felt heavy, that would be proof it was still there. Proof you were alive.

No, your chest felt empty most days. It was as if with Billie’s departure she took your heart. She probably did, it belonged to her for so long she probably had forgotten to give it back.

Instead you type out how you feel: i really hope she wasn’t once in a lifetime.

Hitting post you let out a shaky breath and promptly force yourself to forget about it.

2:09 A.M.

It takes a third call and a total of 96 seconds for you to wake up. Finally rising to the noise of your phone aggressively buzzing on your nightstand.

Without reading the caller ID, you answer. Assuming it’s an emergency, why else would someone be calling in the middle of the night?

“Hello?” Your voice thick with sleep, it was barely able to push air out to answer.

A weak voice replies. “Doll?”

Her. Billie.

Suddenly you have a different issue, you have no oxygen in your lungs to talk back. Hearing her voice for the first time in nine months was a gut punch.

“Doll, it’s you, right? You haven’t changed your number, right?” The way she ends her sentence, it sounds like a desperate plea.

“Billie.” You finally choke out. Tears brim the corners of your eyes.

“Good. It is you,” she says relieved.

Good? How inconsiderate could she be? Waking up her ex after leaving her high and dry, no word for nine months. In the middle of the night no less, to what? Harass her? Give a half-assed apology because she missed her body next to hers?

“This is good for you? So you get to decide when it’s okay to call? And you think that that is almost a year after you leave me hollow?”

A deep breath crackles over the line. “I’m- Look.” But silence takes over instead.

You listen for what might have been an hour, waiting. Until the floodgates open.

“I would say ‘I’m sorry’ but I know that’s not enough. Not enough for you and not enough of what I want to say.”

You consider interrupting her. Consider being angry and letting her have it. Consider making her feel as worthless as she made you feel that night.

“You’re just, not what I need.” Billie couldn’t even look you in the eye when she said it. Hands in her lap, they shook from holding them still instead of fiddling with the ring on her thumb like she always did.

“Not what you need?” You replied completely taken by surprise. “You couldn’t have told me that five years ago? Before I let you engrave yourself into every aspect of my life?”

You left that night. Everything packed into the few bags your friends lent while carrying your things out of the apartment. Their eyes shooting daggers towards Billie who sat silently at the dinner table with a blank expression, staring down at the empty wooden surface.

She never called after that, no text. Not from her or any one of her family members. Your mutual friends didn’t push you to go out with them anymore, understanding what they reminded you of. Giving you space.

No one expected that space to still be going on nine months later.

So when you decided to stay silent—like she was that night—and listen to what she had to say, Billie was surprised. She expected you to talk over her, tell her to go fuck herself and never contact you again.

But you missed her voice too much to risk this opportunity. Nine months sober from her, it didn’t mean you didn’t miss it. The way her inflection danced around your ears, saying your name like it the most beautiful word constructed by man.

“I haven’t spent a single day not regretting what I did to you. I’ve never been so disappointed in myself.” She took a breath. “You are the single best thing to happen to me, and it scared me. I had never been given such an opportunity as being yours and I didn’t know how to treat it.”

Tears slipped down your face without you noticing.

“A year ago I passed a jewelry store with my mom and she asked me, “When are you going to settle down with y/n?” And it became so real to me then that there was a chance you wouldn’t choose forever with me. Or you would and then one day decide you didn’t want it anymore.”

You were sat up in bed now. Your head tilted back against the headboard. Phone in your lap. Billie over speaker mode.

“That fear ate at me for a few months. Until one night…” It didn’t need to be spoken. You both had clearly thought about it everyday.

“And so I’m calling you to say, I’m not once in a lifetime. I am your lifetime, I want your lifetime. If you’ll have me again, please. I can’t take back my mistake but I will spend the rest of forever making it up to you.”

She took another breath and then, silence. Silence took its turn instead of you.

“Doll? You still with me?”Billie asks, fear taking over again.

You exhale. “Come over. Before I change my number.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “On it,” she hangs up.

Letting out a shaky breath you close your eyes. You won’t forgive her anytime soon, she knew that. But having her by your side during the process will make it much easier.

a/n. i kinda actually hate the way this turned out… 🫠 but hey im posting this at 11:54 so technically still on the 23rd. send requests i’ll do better i promise (i might edit this later)

[lsuyia]

❝𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑❞

A/N - ngl i literally pulled this out my ass at 11 am since i rlly needed to start posting on my tumblr more, pls request fic ideas!

relationship is established! also fem!reader

MDNI

ᡣ𐭩

satoru gojo, just seems like the the type of person to randomly be scrolling on instgram,— barely finding interesting and find a video of a baby.

The baby could be doing anything, laughing, giggling, saying its first word,—and like fucking magic will automatically text you about it, spam calling you

it all just started as one simple cute video that satoru saw, making his baby fever go through the roof.

One fucking video, was all it took.

You would get home from work, wanting to take a nap, oh but here he comes, bending you over on the kitchen table, making your legs tremble, just so he can try to get you pregnant.

“Spread wide open f’me, yeah?”

You started to wonder what was going on when one day he magically appeared when you were showering saying he wanted to shower with his beautiful girlfriend, which you knew he was lying straight through his teeth.

Few minutes later, he has you pinned against the shower wall, going at an ungodly pace bruising your cervix in the process with every thrust as he smiles seeing breathless, flustered face.— which some how always seemed to keep him hard.

“Just a little longer for daddy?”

You automatically knew when he said that something was going on, and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

For days straight, satoru would always have you bend over, legs up, on the floor,on the wall, in the bed, in the car fucking you dumb until he finally came inside you.

Everytime.

At this point you were getting concerned that you might actually get you pregnant.

So, you decided to finally open up about the whole dilemma, you couldnt keep going on like this.

“toru baby?” You called out to him after minutes thinking about if you should actually do this. “coming.” He said back as his light footsteps treaded across the living room before finally appearing in-front of you before he sat beside you. “yeah honeybun?” He softly spoke to you while his hand traveled to your thighs, squeezing at the plush.

“I wanted to talk to you about something..” You trailed off at the end, which in gojo’s eyes sounded pretty serious to him. His head immediately turned to look at you looking at you concerned. “Do you think we could like…—calm down with the sex?”

You spoke softly to him not even looking at him out of pure embarrassment of the situation. The silence was so loud after you spoke to him,— until he finally casually spoke back to you“yea baby thats fine, if you wanted to calm down you could’ve told me earlier.” He said with a shrug seeming like the situation didn’t affect him at all.

Oh but, it very much did.

In his eyes, It sounded like you didnt want to have a child with him, which drove him absolutely insane.

The constant sex ban worked for a full month until he was back at it again.

You couldn’t even take off your shoes without him touching your nipples through your clothes, just to turn you on and get you into bed with him.

One thing lead to another and you and him getting into a heated argument in your shared bedroom.

“Gojo, what is up with you? I cant even walk into the fucking house without you trying to finger me!” you exclaimed practically yelling at him. Your attitude towards him at him caught in a dumb daze. You were starting to get tired of the constant sex every day.

He was yelling back before but now he was silent as he stood in front of you not speaking, you rarely ever called him last name which let him know you were pretty serious about the whole ordeal.

He couldn’t keep his need for you under wraps for any longer.

“Honeybun, I want a baby.” He said to you, as his light blue eyes locked with yours.

You were honestly shocked at him, he wanted a baby? The only word you could even speak was

“what?”

“honeybun, I want a baby with you.” He leaned towards you cupping your face as he planted tender kisses.

“I want to see you and me mixed together, I wanna see both of us go through mother and fatherhood, I want to see all of you honeybun.” He said grabbing your hands interlocking them with his. He was really genuine and heartfelt about the whole baby fever nonsense.

You were still in slight shock, but you had a small thought about the idea of you and satoru’s kid still fresh in your mind at the moment

—

Needless to say, you finally found out why gojo was acting crazy all those months ago

You sighed watching television with your pregnant belly while gojo had his arms wrapped around you and his head lightly resting on your stomach, careful not to hurt you at any point

“Their going to be so cute.”

he hummed giving your tummy a tender kiss.

[absdollievu]

hi!!! stalker abby is riddling my brain haha.. what do you imagine domestic life with her would look like once reader and abs have really settled down and how would abby act now that she knows shes got reader tied down forever? (i hope your day/night is cozy and pleasant 🩷 mwah)

Yesss omg!

quick drabble

warnings: dark romance

At first, living with Abby feels intense. Not in a dangerous way—anymore—but in that suffocating, obsessive “you’re mine and nothing will ever touch you again” kind of way. She’s hyper-vigilant from the start. The front door is always locked. Then double-checked. Then again. Cameras go up on the porch. The curtains stay drawn. You find a tracker tucked into your car under the excuse of “for safety, baby, please don’t fight me on this.”

Everything is too quiet, too curated, too Abby. Your home becomes a shrine to the relationship she clung to like a lifeline. There are no meaningless objects anymore. Every framed photo on the wall is of you—alone or with her. The mug she pours your tea into each night only exists for that purpose. Even the throw blanket on the couch is your favorite color. She acts like she’s still trying to prove she deserves you, even now that she’s already got you.

Abby worships you through daily ritual. When you wake up, the smell of breakfast is already drifting from the kitchen. Eggs exactly the way you like them. Toast never burnt, never cold. She always knows how to make it just right. If you try to help, she nudges your hand away with a soft little “I’ve got it, babe.” She feeds you forkfuls sometimes—too slowly, too intentionally—watching your mouth like it’s sacred. Like she still can’t believe it’s hers to kiss.

When you’re away, she cleans the house from top to bottom. Not just to be kind—though that’s how she frames it—but because she doesn’t want anyone else to ever know what your dirty laundry looks like. The sheets you sleep on? Washed and tucked by her own hands. It has to be her. No one else gets to be that close.

Once she’s convinced you’re hers—truly hers—she settles into a quieter kind of possessiveness. You can go out with friends again. You can take solo trips to the store. She trusts you now. Or at least, she trusts your loyalty. But the moment you’re out of sight, her eyes are back on your location. If you’re even a few minutes late, she starts pacing, chewing her nails, already spinning up scenarios of you hurt—or worse, with someone else.

She doesn’t say anything when a coworker starts texting you a little too often. But you notice the way she says their name slowly, like she’s tasting it. Later, she’ll look them up. She’ll scroll through every one of their photos, every tagged post. You won’t hear about it. But you’ll feel it, in how tight she holds you afterward. In the way her kisses are harder. Deeper. Like she’s reclaiming something.

Abby touches you constantly. Her hands find your waist in the kitchen. Her chin hooks over your shoulder while you brush your teeth. When you’re on the couch, she’s curled behind you with her face buried in your neck, arms around your middle like a seatbelt. She doesn’t ask for affection—she just takes it. Like breathing. Like it’s owed.

Sometimes, you’ll catch her staring. Not in a soft, dreamy way. In a memorizing-you-down-to-the-molecule way. You wake up in the middle of the night and her eyes are already open, just watching you, expression unreadable. You ask what she’s thinking and she always answers the same.

“Just… you.”

If you ever joke about being stuck with her forever, she doesn’t laugh. She just smiles, something too calm, and says, “You are.” Not a question. Not a tease. Just a fact. A promise. A vow.

You’ll never have to wonder if she still wants you. The answer is in every breath she takes. In every door she locks. Every plate she sets. Every time she cups your face like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she looks away.

You’re not just her lover. You’re her obsession made real. Her favorite routine. Her home.

And Abby? She’s never been happier.

—

[heavenlyraindrops]

“ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | {ᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇʀ}

☆ Warnings/tags: sports!photographer!reader, eventual smut, fem!reader, afab!reader, social media au/ smau, reader is just a silly little guy

☆ Available on: Tumblr, AO3

Your career in sports photography definitely couldn’t have been possible without your portfolio you’d built throughout college- more importantly, your ability to force yourself to stop taking pictures of the same athlete who’s name you didn’t know. (You swore you didn’t have a crush on him.) However, when you, years later, get a job at the Tokyo Dome, you didn’t expect to have your expensive professional camera smashed in by a hall hurtling towards it at speeds faster than your car.

As for the man who had caused the destruction of your equipment- he was determined to apologize- however, in the process of doing so, he seemed to have found a fan from his earlier days. Frankly, he found it flattering.

alternatively…

“Approximately ninety-seven out of two-hundred and twenty-nine images posted on her professional account include your face,” Mina concluded. Ken stared at her blankly. She remained silent for a few more seconds, letting it sink in, then spoke again. “I suggest scrolling to the very bottom of her account, her earliest days of photography, Ken.”

“Ninety-seven?” He asked incredulously, and Mina simply repeated her previous statement. Scroll down.

He did. It took him a while, but he finally managed to hit it, and-

“I’m in college in these.”

His eyes scanned the pictures on the screen- most of which were of him. College games, every one of them. He’d never noticed her in the crowd. Had he?

And there were so, so many.

He could feel heat creeping up his neck. He didn’t find it creepy, or stalkerish- not at all, but instead dared to feel a tiny bit flattered. 

Oh, she was obsessed with me. That’s kind of cute. 

He wondered if she still was. 

[sombrashe]

Hi

I just read the namgyu fic you posted and it's incredible 🫶❤️

Would you write something like that with Jun-ho or Dae-ho like he is taking out his frustration out on her or on her throat

suffocation ∿ dae-ho x reader & jun-ho x reader

smut

content x fem!reader for daeho & x gn!reader for junho, angry daeho & junho, bratty!reader, "crybaby"reader, reader has a vagina in daehos, rough smut, use of pussy, pussy slapping, throat fucking, overstimulation, not edited

notes im so glad people are enjoying that fic because honestly i got worried i didn't make it horny enough somehow 😭 / also i'm sorry but you can really tell who my fav is lol

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ long post ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

it takes a lot for this man to get frustrated in his day-to-day life and it's nearly impossible for him to get frustrated with you. that is of course if you didn't know about this one secret hack.

“I love you.”

“Heard.”

“... Heard …”

your ears perk up at the sudden change in tone. harshness sleeping into his every syllable. rolling your eyes you go back to scrolling on your phone. you had a dream that he cheated and despite knowing it isn’t real you need to be alone for a little to get over it. you may have been a little rude, and despite the unsettled feeling stuck deep in your brain stem you go to apologize. looking up he’s staring at you, honestly, it threw you off and you blanked. opening and closing your mouth you try to formulate something as simple as a sound. he doesn't look at you like this often, deep dark eyes piercing your very cerebrum. suddenly the room feels cold despite the shallow fever settling right under your skin. you learned real early on that doe eyes and a puffed-out bottom lip will get you nowhere with him when he has this look. nothing short of begging would get you even a chance to be heard. you never beg, it would go against the feeling deep in your abdomen.

“Come here, please.”

you're frozen in place. you can't seem to make yourself move. you don't want to piss him off further but for once you're not sure how severe your punishment will be. god, what if he doesn't let me cum for like a week, wtf… asshole. actually, let me calm down. standing, you obediently slot yourself against his side. he very gently grabs at the back of your neck and guides you in your room. pressing a single kiss to the crown of your head he bends you over the bed. smothering you he shoves your head further into the comforter. you don't fight until you feel a sharp sting. gasping, you attempt to remove yourself from his grip. another sharp sting and your voice is muffled. letting go of your neck you spring up and rub at your butt. frowning up at him you start to speak. he places two fingers in your mouth and you gag at the sudden intrusion. keeping your head in place with fingers gripping your chin he continues teasing you. pressing down on the back of your tongue he watches as tears prick the corners of your eyes. the gag that follows is brazzy and he coos at you. pulling his fingers out of your mouth a thin line of spit connects them to your bottom lip.

“Get on the bed for me. Ah, not like that. You know better.”

stripping for him you make a show of it. the hope that it will help lessen your punishment dies out halfway through the striptease. crawling into the bed he coaxes you on your back. one large hand splays itself across your thigh as he holds your leg open.

“Hold the other one. More.”

when you’re sure you can't feel any more embarrassed he brings his free hand down.

“Dae-ho!”

he shushes you and does it again. it’s not as painful as you thought it would be. a third slap and you actually start to feel it. you clit throbs every time his hand connects with your pussy. whining out you slap a hand over your mouth. he raises his hand again and again and again. you lost count somewhere when the pain morphed into pleasure. your eye starts witching and you don’t know how much more you can take. oh. holy fuck. he plunges two fingers into you and massages that gummy spot right inside of you. biting down on your cheek, you taste blood. ripping the feeling from you he goes back to slapping long fingers against your clit. you feel so empty and your pussy clenches around air. he smiles down at you so sweetly as he rubs soft circles against your clit. breathing heavily, your noises are muffled behind flesh. he spends a few minutes rewarding you, your pussy warm under his touch. slapping his hand down he listens as his fingers connect with your spread hole. your soaking pussy glistens as he smears your slick. the sob that rips its way out of your throat is violent. a gasp, sob and choke all in one with a nice gag to go along with it. he looks down at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Doing okay, rabbit?”

you furrow your eyebrows in silent protest. it would take a lot more than that to- huh. he leans down and takes one sensitive nipple in his mouth. arching your back he continues slapping your pussy until those harsh sobs start to take over again. he listens intently as you sob below his touch. your attitude drains out of you. your tears stream down to tickle your ears. panting your eyes unfocus and lazily blink. he switches nipples and your hips buck into the next slap. jesus christ. you were quickly becoming overstimulated. every feeling was too much and it rips a hole in your chest that was temporarily filled by the next slap.

“Come on beautiful, use your words.”

“I’m sorry. Dae-ho. I am. I promise. Please. Please.”

he sighs and kisses your temple. a particularly harsh slap has you crying out.

“Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.”

his eyes brighten as he listens to your apology. he leisurely pushes three fingers into you. the moment his fingers are notched deep in you he speeds up. the few thrusts it does take you to cum are fast and rough. fingers massage that spot right inside you every time his fingers reach their hilt. when you do cum you’re shaking. covering your face, you smear snot and drool across your cheeks. you gush around his fingers and your essence pools in his palm.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. So so much. Thank you, I love you.”

he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. reaching down you focus on his hand undoing his belt.

“Go ahead and relax.”

you shift and spread yourself open for him. your dripping hole is on full display making his cock jump in his briefs. climbing onto the bed he knocks the tip of his cock against your puffy clit. turning your head you gasp and shakily exhale as you attempt to relax. your hazy mind starts to form a thought but it immediately slips away as he slides his cock into your feverish pussy.

junho doesn't go out of his way to take his frustration out on you. he just knows how eager you are to help him. your soft expressions and gentle smiles always make it difficult for him to get upset with you. so when something pushes him over the edge and your wonder amazing boyfriend-pleaser self is sitting curled up on the couch you bet your ass he’s dragging you onto your knees. he loves watching as your expression changes from anger at losing your phone, to confusion as he lifts you to your feet, to understanding as he pushes you down. he loves how devoted you are, taking the initiative and undoing his belt for him. your way of seeing how rough he’ll be. oh how well you knew him because not even three seconds after you’ve touched his belt is he growing and shoving his pants down for you. you start to relax, your mouth starts to passively make saliva as your thighs squish together. he absolutely adores the way your eyes crinkle as he slaps his cock against your cheek.

“Open up for me, angel. A little wider. Just like that, good job.”

he slides the tip of his cock in your mouth and you whine at not being able to tease him a little.

“Don't worry. I’ll still get off in your mouth. How’s that sound, huh? Good? Damn, I always forget how tight your throat is like this.”

he bottoms out without giving you much time to prepare and the stretch is uncomfortable. you close your nails into your palms and try your hardest to relax your throat. breathing is impossible and so you're stuck crying as your body struggles. salt burns your waterline and you rock back in protest. he cups your head in his hands, hair puffing around his fingers. curling your toes, you whine and gag softly around his shaft. he keeps his thrusts shallow and any air that you can gather is filled with him. blinking up at him, your cheeks puff out. he bends over slightly and fucks your throat, his pelvis squishing your nose with every deep thrust. your gags are frequent and they vibrate against his cock. he lets up after a few minutes and goes back to slow thrusts. you can feel your nose start running with as much frequency as your eyes when he starts fucking your throat again. the intermission between slow, gentle thrusts and deep, rough thrusts becomes shorter and shorter until he doesn't let up. his cock is so far down your throat you can’t even swallow without him showing. rocking your hips against the air you close your eyes and relax into his thrusts.

“You feel perfect, angel. So tight. You want me to cum in you?”

you squeeze at his thigh and hum as best as you can. he nods and with blurry vision you take in his disheveled look. whisps of hair sticking to his slick forehead, deep eyes squeezed shut, and a beautiful shade of red covering his neck. closing your eyes again, you sniffle and gag. the feeling of your throat constricting pushes him over the edge and he cums down your throat. letting go of your head he finishes on your face and hair as you gag and cough up cum. he stands above you breathing heavily. his eyes closed and his hand finishing himself off with abandon. when he finally comes back to it your coughs have downgraded to raspy breathing. mumbling he goes about the house half naked and collects a few things. coming back he hands you a cup full of water and an empty mug. taking the glass you chug the water until it’s empty. he busies himself by wiping down your hair and face with a damp towel. he finishes with a deep kiss and you have to cut it short as you're still out of breath.

[phneltwrites]

AO3 Stats & Notifications

One (1) person said this would be interesting so here's a post about what AO3 authors can see about their works and what they get notified for.

What authors get notified for:

comment on a fic

EDIT on a comment (some of u edit like 16 times and it is very sweet. I get an email every time)

Response to a comment

Request to join a collection (note: don't do this. collection owners have a lot of power over fic and should only be used for specific reasons and not to create a collection of fic you enjoy. that's what bookmark collections are for)

Gift

Related work notification

Daily kudos email. The daily kudos email shows all the kudos of the previous day in an order that makes sense to the ao3 database and not to human eyes.

The only bit of this that is clickable is the title of the fic. I can click into the profile of a nice user if I navigate to the fic and then go to the bottom where the kudos are displayed.

Things authors do not get notified for:

subscription to a fic or author

ending a subscription

deleting a comment

creating a bookmark

a fic view (if you visit a fic twenty times, no one knows that but your isp and your browser history and you)

Now here's what authors can see about their fic under the cut because more screenshots

The first thing an author can see is something everyone can see, and that's who left a public bookmark

If you click on the number next to bookmarks you can see this. And each username is clickable to see the other things they have bookmarked or written (side note, this is the best way to find other fic to read)

The author can also see the note a reader leaves on a public bookmark.

Please note that authors don't get a notification for this and I don't look at them (screenshot proving me a liar) so you aren't guaranteed to be seen by the author. If you like that last nice user want the author to know it stuck with them, you gotta leave a comment.

But there are also private bookmarks! And private bookmarks are, as the name sounds like, private. However. On the statistics page for each fic the author gets a little more information.

Here is the statistics page:

This can be selected to by year and the numbers will change EXCEPT user subscriptions. User subscriptions shows the current state of subscriptions. And since authors don't get a notification of number go up or down, they won't know when it's changed unless they are tracking it. Additionally there is no way to see who has subscribed. So you can subscribe to whoever you like or unsubscribe at any time and that is between you, the ao3 database, your ISP tracking your history, and your email client. But the author doesn't know. You are released from any social obligation to stay subscribed or any embarrassment you might have. Go forth.

See? Here is 2024 and it has the same number of users.

Also fun fact, the word count shows fic FINISHED in that year. I wrote a 90k fic that straddled 2024 and 2025 and the full word count for that is tracked on the 2025 page.

anyway back to info.

I can scroll down on this and get a bit more information on each fic.

Here I can see the number of people who have subscribed to a fic - but not who they are. I can also see the TOTAL NUMBER of bookmarks including private bookmarks.

Compare contrast:

The public listing shows 47 bookmarks, the statistics page listing shows 127. On average, most fics have about half of their bookmarks private.

I can't see who made those extra bookmarks, just that they exist.

Also on the statistics page the comments are shown as the number of threads instead of the total number. I always reply to comments so the thread count is a more accurate reflection of how many people left a comment.

So to sum up, what authors can see if they investigate:

username on a public bookmark and any note left

the total number of bookmarks

the total number of subscriptions to themselves right now

the number of subscriptions on a fic

hits

[imsorrythatimweird101-blog]

HOW SHIFT USING THE GATEWAY TAPES (UPDATED)

Hey, I want start off to apologize. I'm so sorry for bringing awareness to the tapes and then not clarifying on what to do or how to start. I did try to answer every question I can. I did post a guide a while back but Im still remastering it

IMPORTANT VOCAB

F10- body asleep and mind awake

F12- having your consciousness in the universe and expanded

HOW TO START:

So first off you need click on drive. Once you open the drive you will see tapes.

Before staring the tapes you NEED read a MANUAL. So if you look at your bottom left corner. You will see a PDF and it will have a picture of a old man. He's name is Bob. The creator of the tapes. I love Bob.

Once you click on the tape. You scroll down and you see titles. These titles are the titles of the tape in the folders that your going to use. At the bottom of the titles, there going be a discription. These discription tell you what the tapes do but also how they work and what you need to do during those tapes. Once your done your ready to go

STEPS

Step 1: open the drive and you will see the folders of tapes. ‼️DO NOT USE ANY OTHER AUDIO EXPECTED THE DRIVE. YOUTUBE COMPRESS THEM AND MAKE THEM NOT WORK‼️

[GATEWAY TAPES DRIVE ](https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/mobile/folders/1vZJg5oJvfYVwWryJh05pfkZTV0cnd026)

Step 2: click the bottom far left corner. It's a Manuel and has a picture of a old guy smiling (bob)

Step 3: find the title of the tape your going to use. Read it carefully and know what's going happened and what to do

Step 4: go to discovery and play the first tape. Don't fall asleep! Be awake during the tapes!

Great! Keep doing these tapes for each tape. Each tape you must do it 3 times or more. So you can get familiar with it. BUT MOST IMPORTANT IF YOUR NOT READY TO MOVE ON OR YOU FEEL LIKE YOU NEED KEEP DOING. THAT'S OKAY, SHIFTING IS ALWAYS GOING BE HERE SO DONT RUSH

‼️PAY ATTENTION TO THIS PART‼️

Once you reach Tape 3- advanced F10. There's a trigger that YOU MUST MASTER. The whole point of discovery is to train your brain to be awake and body asleep.

Now continues the normal steps like the other but this time. You need keep doing it until your able do It without the tapes. This is very important because when your trying reach F12(the goal). You need to be in F10 first and master It already

After that, you NEED to do the other tapes like the normal steps. Because the 4 tape is to have fear go away and if you blockages. The 5 is for awareness while you sleep and 6- free flow- is to freestyle

‼️Make sure to let go any expectations of these tapes because this will hold you back! Put your expectations and your needs in the energy box!‼️

But you can go to F12 tape.

F12 tape is next to discovery. Know as Wave 2. A lot of people ask why only that tape and not the others. Well! If you do F12 tape and in beginning bobs explains that after F12 tape. Those tapes are TOOLS. Those tools involved with manefisting, remote viewing, answering questions etc (I recommend you to check it out)

So the thing you need to do is master F12 and then shift!

Tips and questions

Q: what are gateway tapes?

A: here's some recourses that explains it way more better then I ever could

[gateway tapes ](https://youtu.be/46E_FX-KxZ8?si=yV8dqgoBdcNJXclD)

[Gateway tapes CIA EXPLAINED ](https://youtu.be/HOFq3ruef7I?si=JbwpcgnZ9rrbGyyz)

Q: can I shift at F10?

A: yes you can. It's possible but it's not really meant for that. Its more of SATS approach if that's what you're looking for because F10 is mind awake and body asleep

Q: how many times do I listen to it

A: as many times you feel like. I personally listen to it 3-4 times a day but only because I'm in summer break. Whatever works in your schedule

Q: how do I know I'm in F10?

A: your body is heavy and your limbs are numb. Your body is supposed to be asleep. Many people reported that the hear themselves snore. Me personally, my breath is non-existent and my chest is numb in away. Or like barely there. Trust me you will know. Ofc this doesn't mean you can't move you body at all. You can move your body in F10 but need the WILL to move your body. It can be different from everyone

Q: I tried it couple of days, why is it working?

A: first off, you need patience. This is practice. It's like a baseball player wanting to be the best pitcher in the world but they throw the ball couple of times and then when it's not right. They run and cry in there room. You need take the tapes seriously not half ass it and be PATIENT. Don't rush things. That's the worse thing you can do because you will miss important cues and it's going be all bad.

Q: I keep falling asleep why is that

A: your brain and body is not used to it. Your brain isn't normal active. Its active but it's going through your sleep cycles. So having your brain be in vibration state of being awake and your body being sleep cycle. It's going get confused because it's not used to it. That's why the tapes train it.

Q: do I need earphones or headphones when listening to tape

A: yes, you need ones that aren't noise cancelling and make sure that you hear bob in your right ear. Only because there certain sounds that play in both your ears for your brain to sync.

Q: are these tapes actually going make me shift

A: yes, I believe it will. The only reason why I personally believe that anyone can 1000 percent shift because these gateway tapes were run by scientist and actually doctor in fields to perfect it. Not only that CIA agents use these and it's approved by the CIA. There actually evidence and research done. It isn't like some random teenagers made a method up in there room. These tapes are designed to open the human mind and Bob himself even talked to alter version of himself with these tapes.

‼️MOST IMPORTANT TAKE‼️

Now, you gotta have open mind and believe it too. You cant go in the tapes with a negative mindset and expect a beautiful outcome. This is in every method you used..not only the gateway tapes. If you believe it won't work because whatever the case then obviously it won't work because your mind is going block everything and not letting it's self In general. This is life In general.