#and i think the second half is better than the first half

[girlyteengirlcore]

— until you learn

sevika x fem!reader

cw: established relationship, age gap (early 20s/late 30s), 🤏🏻 of obsessive sevika, verryyyyy dom/sub btw, strap-on sex, strap is referred to as “dick”, oral, dubcon (reader is a little bit intoxicated), orgasm control, clit stimulation, overstimulation, impact play, little bit of spit, squirting, degradation, aftercare

a/n: sorry for my little disappearance, this is my apology!! also, i’m so bad at the whole plot thing so i’m really sorry if the start of this sucks

wc: 3.2k

⌞friday night, 6:54pm ⌝

You had just finished getting ready for a night out with your friends, checking your phone every five minutes to see how far away your uber was. Once you got the notification that your ride has arrived you jumped up, nearly running out of the house. Your wife grabbed you by the arm, stopping you just before you reach the door.

"You forgetting something, doll?" Raising her eyebrows at you eagerness to leave.

"Oh sorry, babe," you stand on the tips of your toes, bringing your lips to hers.

When you pull away you give her a sweet smile, before turning on your heel and running out of the house. You glance back just before you hop in the car, waving at Sevika standing at the door.

"Update me regularly, please," the way she says it almost makes it sound like a question, but you know better than to assume she was asking. She was expecting you, telling you, to update her every now and then.

"Will do, love you!" You yelled your response at her from across the front yard, blowing her a kiss as you finally sat down and closed the car door.

⌞7:24pm⌝

It took about half an hour to get to the designated restaurant. Your friends spotted you from across the room once you arrived and went inside, ushering you over to your seat where you see they've already ordered some appetisers for the table. It feels like forever since you've seen them and it will probably be a while until you see them again, so you saver every hug from them as you go around the table.

You sit down and immediately get bombarded with questions about your life, you take some food as you answer all of their questions.

Once all of you had had your fill, you went up to the bar to order the first round of drinks. One round soon turned into two, then three, and once it got to four you suggested a bar hop. And when you actually found your second bar of the night, every second round of drinks signalled the trek to a new bar. However long the walk may be.

⌞10:13pm⌝

By this time it was about quarter past ten, and you only realised once you checked the time that you hadn’t been doing the thing that you promised to do. Update Sevika on the going ons of the night. She really doesn’t ask for much, truly, as she states in the multiple messages displayed at the bottom of your lock screen.

7:34pm

╰┈➤ Did you get there safe, baby?

8:06pm

╰┈➤ How’s it going?

9:03pm

╰┈➤ Baby

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤Are you okay?

9:22pm

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤ Where are you?

╰┈➤ I asked you to update me and you said you would, a simple ‘yes baby I’m fine’ would be amazing?

10:03pm

╰┈➤ I don’t ask for a lot and you can’t even do that much, I just want to know how things are going.

╰┈➤ I’m coming to get you

╰┈➤ Missed call

⌞10:16pm⌝

By the time you saw the countless messages and missed calls she left it was too late to message, she wasn’t going to answer since she was driving. You opt for the best option you could think of; sitting outside and waiting for her. You say goodbye to all of your friends, promising to see them again soon, wishing them the best for the time being. Then, you take your leave and find a comfortable space on the front concrete stairs of the establishment.

You’re scrolling on your phone when, soon enough, you hear a car pull up and park right in front of you. You look up and lock eyes with your wife through the open passenger seat window, she does not look happy.

Why were you getting excited? She’s about to berate you for disobeying her, so why are you feeling giddy?

You make your way over to the car, dragging your feet. Luckily you ordered some side dishes to eat while you were drinking, helping you to not get too drunk. But honestly, even if you didn’t, the feeling of her eyes burning into your head as you step inside the car would definitely do the trick.

“I’m really so—“

“Don’t wanna hear it.” She leaves no room for argument, no room for apologies, and absolutely no room for your endless excuses she knows you made up while waiting for her.

The rest of the drive home is silent. She left a cold bottle of water in the centre console that you graciously took, not bothering with manners since you know it won’t help your case.

You can’t lie though, the tension in the car mixing with the alcohol in your system was making you feel hot. You couldn’t help but imagine what she was going to do once you got home, smiling to yourself while looking at the window, trying your absolute hardest not to make it obvious that you were squeezing your thighs together. The butterflies in your stomach were making your clit throb with anticipation. The way she put her hand behind your head rest and turned around, using the palm of her hand to turn the steering wheel to back into the garage didn’t help the throb either.

You both sit in the stilled car for a moment, but you’re both still for different reasons. She’s thinking of what to say, while you’re waiting to be told what to do. She actually appreciates your behaviour for the first time all night.

“Sit on the bed.” You expect her to say more so you turn to face her, but once you receive a look that says ‘what?’ you get out of the car and head to the bedroom.

You’re waiting for some time before she comes in, stopping momentarily to glare at you, you shiver subtly under her gaze. She turns and closes the door, still standing facing away from you when she talks next.

“What is the one thing I asked you to do?” Turning around slowly to face you, walking over to you in a less than reassuring way.

“To update you,” your voice was small.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you,” she kneels down in front of you, staring up at you and yet it still feels like she’s looming over you.

“You asked me to update you.”

“Right. And what didn’t you do?”

“Update you.”

“I said speak up,” she says through her teeth, in an impatient manner.

“I didn’t update you. And I’m so sorry Sev, I just forgot.” Your apology was rushed, thinking she would interrupt you again. But she didn’t, she stayed silent.

“Take your clothes off.”

You swallow your nerves and lift your dress up over your head, sitting in your underwear. You don’t waste any time in taking off the rest, leaving you sitting completely bare in front of her.

“Lay on your stomach.”

You move further onto the bed, turning over and laying on your stomach just like she asked. She lifts up your hips with ease, placing a pillow underneath them. Then, the sound of her palm coming down on your ass fills the room. You hear it before you feel it. When you do feel it, it stings so badly that it feels cold.

She won’t make you count, she never does. That isn’t the point of this punishment. The point of it is to have to crying and begging her to stop while chanting empty promises along the lines of ‘I’ll never do it again!’ These pleas fall on unwillingly ears; she listens, relishing in the sobs that come out of your mouth every time she brings her hand down, then ignores you. Just like you did to her.

“Shut it. You want me to listen to you? Yeah? How do you think I feel, sweetheart?” She grabs your hair, turning your head to face her. The look in her eyes doesn’t do much to help the dripping between your thighs, but that doesn’t make it any less intimidating.

“I’m so sorry ‘Vika, I swear, it won’t hap- happen again,” stammering over your words due to your uncontrollable sobbing.

“You sure you’re not just saying that to get on my good side so I can play with your little pussy, babe? ‘Cause she looks pretty desperate,” the smirk evident in her tone.

“I’m sure.”

Out of nowhere she gets on top of you, straddling your thighs. She gets real close to your ear, make you shiver as you feel her lick the shell of it.

“Think you deserve to cum?” She hums in response when she sees you nod your head.

You feel her fingers slowly creep their way to your weeping pussy, but you stay still. You feel her knee nudge your legs open for easier access, but you still remain unmoving. It was only when her fingertip dipped slightly into you that you jolted, earning a chuckle from the woman above you. She gets off for a second and guides you to turn around. Still keeping your hips elevated but now you’re on your back.

She presses her knee to your shoulder, making it near impossible for you to move. And rubs your clit slowly with her hand, causing your eyes to close at the direct contact. You notice the light disappearing from behind your eyelids and open your eyes, only to see Sevika’s face above yours.

“Open wide, whore,” looking down at your lips with an expectant look.

You close your eyes agin and open your mouth, feeling a drop her warm saliva dribble onto your tongue. You swallow it immediately.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you?” A rhetorical question, of course. You both knew that answer.

Her other hand comes down to lift the hood of your clit up, making you clench around nothing as your clit is exposed to the cold air. Using her other hand to gather some of your arousal on a couple of her think fingers, a rub them roughly against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, back arching, and toes curling. Then, she shows you absolutely no mercy. Moving off of you and finding her place between you thighs, face to face with your drooling slit, licking her lips.

And she devours you, her hands do well to keep you from moving too much but even when you do, her face follows you. Never letting you escape the overwhelming pleasure. Sevika sucks your clit into her mouth, using her tongue to subjugate it to an unrelenting torture. As you feel your orgasm sneaking up, she lifts her head slightly, gaining your attention.

“Don’t cum yet.” What?

“I can’t hold it-“

“You’re going to have to, baby. I wasn’t asking.”

She gets right back to work, adding two of her thick fingers. While she seems to be enjoying herself, you have to fight off your pleasure while being forced to endure her tongue on your pussy. Not an easy task at all. You tell yourself to focus on your breathing, trying to hold it off for as long as possible but it doesn’t seem to be working at all. Little did you know, this is exactly what she wanted; to push to the point where you have to beg her to let you cum. Her favourite form of humiliation.

“Sev- vika, ohhh god, I can’t- I can’t hold it. Ohhhh my god, I can’t hold it— pleeeaaase baby! Fuckkk,” your pleas came out as screams through your teeth.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. I really don’t think you deserve it, at all.”

The room was filled with the only words you could get out; pleasepleaseplease was all she heard, and she loved it. In fact, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once your hips started moving erratically, you both knew there was no holding it for any longer. She’s not worried though, she wasn’t planning on making you wait any longer anyway.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart? Go on, make a mess.”

The dam walls break, the noise you let out was ungodly. Your orgasm washing over you in such an intense way that your whole body starts shaking. The shivering didn’t stop Sevika from prolonging it, dragging your orgasm out by slightly slowing down the pace of her fingers. It was such a overwhelming sensation that you don’t even hear her get up, too fucked out from only one orgasm to see what she’s doing. The ringing in your ears stops you from hearing the sound of metal clanging together. She’s already fastened the harness around her hips and is lubing up the strap by the time you turn your head around, your eyes widening at the sheer size of it.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I c- please Sevi, I can’t cum again,” trying to give her the sweetest look you could muster up, looking for some type of sympathy.

“Don’t give me that, you’ve got plenty more in you.”

She gets on her knees on the bed, using one of her hands to lift your hips up and the other one to guide her strap into your drenched pussy. Swiping it up and down to gather all of your cum that has dripped out of you, using it as extra lube. You wince as she pushes in. Inch by inch, she’s filling you up. She’s so slow too, making sure you feel every detail of the fake dick.

Once you adjust to the size of it, she lifts both of your legs so that both of your feet are hanging over one of her shoulders. Your hips are off the bed completely and she wraps both arms around your legs, and she goes crazy. She moves back, only bringing her hips forward whenever gravity makes you impale yourself on her dick. The sound of skin slapping soon fills the room, almost drowning out the beautiful noises you were making.

Your mouth lolled open, drool finding its way out of your mouth and down the side of your cheek.

“That feel good, baby?” She already knew but she loved to hear you say it.

“Mhm,” your bottom lip finding its way in between your teeth.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Y- yessss, oh my fucking g- gooddddd!!!” Voice changing as she angles her hips slightly upwards, pressing into that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

She doesn’t stop when you cum for the second time.

“Aww, look baby. You’re creaming all over me, does it feel too good, sweetheart?”

She doesn’t stop when you squirt all over her abdomen.

“Ohhhhhh, you’re makin’ a mess.” Bringing her hand down and rubbing sloppy patterns over your clit, forcing more out of you. Making you scream through your teeth. She chuckles through her teeth and your reaction.

She doesn’t stop after you start begging her for a break.

“I thought I told you I don’t wanna hear any of that, of course you can take more.”

“I- I can’t! Vika pl-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself, we aren’t stopping. Not until you understand— not until you learn the consequences of your actions.”

And oh my god did she stick to her word. She’s still pushing into you even now, even after you’ve stopped making noise and your mouth is just hanging wiiiiide open, even after you’ve cum another handful of times, even after she starts getting tired. She’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

She pauses for a second when she hears you mumble something under your breath, grabbing your jaw. She taps your cheek lightly.

“What’d you just say, baby? C’mon, speak.”

“I— I’m sorry,” tears, real tears pour out of your eyes. Not tears from the hours of overstimulation, not tears from the overwhelming pleasure you’re still experiencing, but tears from being genuinely sorry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t li- listen, I won’t- it won’t happen again. I love you.” Your words are quiet, almost a whisper, and slurred. And your sobs and hiccups weren’t helping you to become more coherent, but she still understood what you said. You didn’t even need to say anything and she would still know.

She pauses, her eyes are darting all over your face. And she leans down to kiss your tears away softly, lovingly.

“Okay, baby. It’s alright, I love you too. You’re gonna cum one more time and we’ll be done. Yeah?”

She hums when you give her a nod, but you’re surprised when she pulls out. She’s slow with it, not wanting to hurt you. You focus your eyes to see her kissing down your stomach, until she reaches your sore pussy. You clench around nothing when you see her just looking, staring. Then, she leans in.

Immediately dipping her tongue in, her eyes rolling at the taste of your cum on her tongue. She doesn’t waste a drop, swallowing it all.

“Relax, baby. Deeeep breaths, yeah that’s good.”

She guides you through the build up, helping you to overcome to pain of your sensitive clit being stimulated once again, helping you to calm down, telling you when to breathe in… then out. During this time, you rely on her words and actions to know how to behave. She’s calm, so you’re calm.

As your orgasm builds further, you become a little erratic in your movements. Breathing becoming faster and more unsteady, hips lifting off of the bed and pulling away? or were they grinding on her face? neither of you could tell, and back arching.

“Baby, calm down.” Her authoritative voice was still so smooth like honey, making you shiver. You nod.

“I’m- gonna, gonna cum. Pleasepleaseplease- Vika I’m gonna c-“

“Yeah, I heard you. Calm down and let it alllll out.”

And when that cord inside you finally snaps, she’s there. Following your hips, forcing you to ride it out.

⌞probably veryyyyy early into the next morning⌝

Your back is against her chest, she’s running her hand up and down your torso. The warm bath water engulfing you both, making you sleepy. You could feel her watching you, so you open your eyes.

“What are you looking at?” Playfulness lingering in your tone.

“My beautiful wife,” she says without even thinking.

You smile, closing your eyes again and leaning back against her chest.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.” She chuckles at your answer, letting the comfortable silence fill the bathroom again.

After a couple of minutes she speaks again.

“Don’t ever make me worry like that again.” Her voice calm, but threatening.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“I mean it, baby.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Right,” rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

[invoncible]

Mark was pissed when you got a date for the first time. MDNI. mark grayson & f! reader

Being friends since childhood, he grew up as your gatekeeper—no one could play with you on the playground turned into no one could ask you out to the school dance turned into no one could date you, period. His excuse? No one was good enough for you. He was your best friend, after all.

Mark already buys you stuff (as friends), takes you out to eat (cuz he was a good friend), and listens whenever you want to yap (he was just a nice guy!). And in his humble opinion, he was tall. His mom always says he's handsome. And he was ripped! Why would you need anyone else if he hit all the boxes?

That was all a cover up for the fact that he wanted you. He's loved you since he can remember, of course he envisions the rest of his life by your side. This was his way of keeping you to himself until he had the balls to jeopardize your friendship for the chance at something more. But, of course…

"The one time I'm not around and everyone shoots their shot with you?" Mark groaned into your pillow.

"Put some clothes on." You threw a shirt his way, feeling uneasy that he was just laying their in his hero suit. "Anyone can walk in here."

He rolled his eyes, snatching the shirt from the air as you tossed it. He slipped it over his suit while getting off the bed. He walked closer, stubbornly hovering behind you as you flitted around the room getting ready for your big date.

"Mark!" you laughed, pushing him away with your arm. "Can you back up?"

He ignored you, playfully dropping his weight onto you despite his ominous tone. "I'm serious, Y/n. Are you seriously going out alone with him? At night? In his car? Alone?"

"The whole point of a date is that I'm not alone." You rolled your eyes, grabbing your chosen dress for the night and heading into the bathroom. Mark stood in the doorway, a retort on his tongue. You cut him off, looking at him with exasperation. "What, are you gonna follow me into the bathroom, too?"

He scowled, grabbing the door and slamming it shut himself. His annoyance only grew when he heard your amused giggle on the other side.

He knew he had responsibilities as Invincible. He loves everything about being a hero.... except the fact that he's spending so much time away from his loved ones. It was worse that you were a pretty girl in university—there were all sorts of bad characters that would try their luck with you. He wouldn't even be there to protect you.

He clasped his hands behind his neck, pacing in circles as if this was a life or death matter (he's dramatic).

He peeked over his elbow when he heard the bathroom door crack open.

"Okay, option one." You stepped out in a cute little black dress. Too little for his liking, but whatever. "What d'you think?"

"It's alright." He wanted to fall to his knees in front of you and worship you, peel that stupid dress off slow enough to get at you for putting it on in the first place for someone that wasn't him.

You frowned. "Alright? I need gorgeous."

You had that down, he wanted to say, even without the dumb dress.

You retreated to the bathroom, slipping into your second option and revealing it. Mark wished he'd gone with the first one because this one was worse because it was so much better. Where the fuck were you getting these dresses?

He twisted his face in disgust as you gave a little spin. "No."

You faced him, brows creasing and lips in a pout. His heart squeezed at the sight. He didn't want to be so mean. You were so pretty; he could stare at you all day regardless of what you had on, but in this moment he couldn't help it.

"No?" You sighed, sneaking glances at yourself in the mirror.

Go back to the first one go back to the first one—

"Well, it'll have to do."

Fuck.

You had the audacity to stand in front of him with your back turned. "Zip me up?"

He inhaled, muttering under his breath as he grabbed the zipper from where it sat half-way and tugged it up... maybe rougher than warranted.

"Mark—!" you squeaked as you stumbled forward under his forceful hands.

"I'm telling you, this isn't a good idea." Mark grumbled, purposely taking a while to drag the zipper on its track just to feel your skin, dragging his fingers up the expanse of your back.

"Be gentle—"

"All guys want the same thing." He snapped, sharply zipping it the full way and immediately walking away.

"Why'd you even come over if you're just gonna bitch?" You adjusted the hem of your dress, glaring at him over your shoulder. "You're so angry for no reason."

"There is a reason!" He exclaimed, a hand on his hip as if prepping to lecture you. "You're going out with someone you met on a dating app at fuckin' 9 in the night looking really good. What if you get kidnapped? Or if he has bad intentions? What if he's driving you somewhere you don't wanna go?"

With each concern your frown deepened. He had to steel himself against your adorable sulking, turning away as he continued.

"What if he wants to kiss you, or touch you, or—or sleep with you?!" Mark's voice lowered as if the notion of anyone fucking you was unimaginable. "Have you even had sex yet?"

You looked at him weirdly and he thought he fucked up when you turned from him.

"No. But that's kind of the point for this date." You shot back, touching up your makeup in the mirror.

His jaw dropped, gaping at you. "No." The thought alone made his skin crawl.

You laughed. "You're so funny! When did you become so responsible? We always talked about having fun in university."

"Not that kind of fun."

You shrugged. "Whatever. And don't think I missed that 'I look good.'" You smiled smugly, poking his chest triumphantly and his face flushed, his train of thought stuttering.

"As far as I'm concerned, we're both trying to get some and you're upset I beat you to it." You giggled and he wanted to wipe that patronizing smile off your face.

"...You wouldn't know what to do." He muttered, going for a low blow. He was feeling petty. Nothing he said or did was discouraging you, but he knew you better than you knew yourself. A little provocation was all he needed.

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Yes, I would."

He grinned slowly. He knew you like the back of his hand. "No, you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would."

"Mmm. Don't think so." He mirrored your stance, stepping closer and looking down at you from the slope his nose.

"Cuz you're so experienced?"

"Right."

"Experienced with who, exactly?"

His smirk faltered for a split second, covering it up by running his hand over his face and turning it back on you. “Jealous?"

"You’re the one acting jealous." You rolled your eyes. "Why don't you tell me all your secrets? Since you know so much. I'll use them with my date."

Mark's smile was devoid of emotion. He just stared. He stared for a long, long time. He squinted at you like you just said something unthinkable—in a way, you did.

If he wasn't pissed before, he was now.

"How about I show you?"

[]

Mark was a nice guy. Nice enough to remember that you were a hands-on learner. That's why he had your legs spread, dress bunched up at your hips, taking his sweet sweet time pumping his fingers in and out of you. His eyes flickered to your face when he intentionally curled them.

His pupils blew wide when he watched your head drop back against the bed, his breath hitching when a feathery whine joining the soft squelch of his fingers buried in your soaked heat.

"Yeah," he laughed lowly, his face hot. "who's bitching now?"

"Shut up," you hissed from beneath him, but it was hard to take anything serious when you were putty in his hands.

"I'm never shutting up about this." He promised, all else fading into the background when he glanced down and saw your slick coating his hand, staining the sleeves of his suit. "Wow."

"Shut up." you gasped, heat snaking up you neck. Wow?

"Fine." Mark mumbled, blush burning at his cheeks. He pulled his fingers from you, pushing your knees apart when you tried to close them. He was impatient, but his chest shook with each heartbeat; his nervous energy was overwhelming his senses, second only to the primal desire to please you.

You squeaked when he yanked you higher up the bed, propping you up against the pillows before lying on his stomach. You snapped your legs shut, much to Mark's disappointment.

"What?" he breathed, eyebrows furrowed. "Did I—"

"No, it's just... this is so embarrassing." You mumbled, curling into yourself. Mark ran his calloused hands up and down your skin.

"What is?" Mark used his strength to pry your legs open again, giving you puppy eyes from his spot between your thighs. "You're so beautiful."

"Mark..." Where was this coming from? You had so many questions, but your mushy brain translated them to, "...we're friends."

"Not anymore," He pouted, ducking to nuzzle into the fat of your inner thigh. "I don't want to be friends anymore."

You blinked down at him, chest rising and falling with each breath as your brain tried to catch up with your body. The Mark you’d known was long gone. In his place was someone who looked at you like you hung the stars, and suddenly everything between you felt terrifyingly real.

"I wanna be the one to take you out instead," he continued, rubbing slow circles into your thighs. "I want to be the one to pick you up from class and walk you to lectures. Go on dates, sleep over, you know. Everything. I want all of it."

You stared, wide-eyed. He smiled, but it was lopsided and vulnerable.

"I’ve loved you forever," he admitted, brushing his nose against your leg. "I didn’t know how to say it without ruining what we had. I wasn't bitching for no reason."

"I know that now." You smiled.

"Ditch your date."

"Oh, I already planned on it."

Mark didn't want to be friends anymore. You didn't either. The rest of the night was spent making up for lost time.

something lazy. sorry for my absence guys :)

[siri-ike]

@soulrox wanted to include your contribution, too.

They had been driving for about 4 hours. Sometimes Jazz wished he brother could grow up slower, but right now? She wished they all had drivers licenses and could take turns. "Tucker, where's the closest place we can stop?"

Tucker stopped trying to fix the air conditioner for a moment and looked at the GPS. It was glitchy and couldn't quite get their location right. But through the use of an absurd number of paperclips, Tucker had somehow managed to get it semi functional. "Looks like," he looked up from the screen. "Oh, right there. A cabin."

Sam almost jumped in the back seat, waking Danny, who had his head on her lap, which in turn woke the little mer, who was cuddled up in his arms. Even as Danny sat up, the baby mer didn't let go of him. What little moisture he could get from Danny's sweaty clothes was apparently worth the smell.

"I think we need to find some water." Danny stroked the scales on the mers head. "He's not looking too good."

"Maybe there's running water inside." Jazz hoped. She could not stay awake long enough to drive safely.

The cabin was bare bones inside. Danny carried the little Mer, who had taken to licking beads of sweat off him. Their tongue felt like sandpaper. Danny went straight for the big metal sink.

*drip* *drip* *drip*

It's not much, but it's better than sweat. Danny placed the little Mer in the sink. He stuffed a rag in the drain and patted the kid on the head.

"Is there anything nearby?" Danny plopped down on the couch. "A well? A convenience store?"

Sam lifted Danny's T-shirt to check on his bandages. Not too much blood, the stitches must be holding.

"There's a gas station just 3 miles further." Tucker groaned.

"Do we still have money?"

"Jazz' card still works." Sam pulled another shirt out of her backpack and handed it to Danny.

Danny put on the fresh T-shirt and stood up. "3 miles, that's what, an hour round trip?" He turned to look at Sam and Tucker half asleep already. "I'll be back before whatever serial killer lives here returns."

"Danny, you're injured."

He lifted up his shirt again. "See how clean these are?" He pointed at the disgusting, sweat stained bandages which, admittedly, had very little blood on them. "I'll come back with water, and food, and more first aid supplies."

"No, Danny." Sam had put her foot down alone because Tucker was already asleep.

"Keep and eye on Mer, ok?"

Sam glanced at the little Mer for a second. It was a second too long because Danny was out the door and emptying out a bag from the car in no time. The little Mer looked at her with their big black eyes, little webbed fingers rocking out from the top of the sink, scales dry and matte. They did need water. They could only hope that the kid could stick it out for an hour.

A duffel bag and Jazz' debit card. That was all Danny had with him. Powers? Now, that was a different story. They weren't working reliably. Jazz had insisted that the block was mental and, well, maybe. Anyone would have problems after getting vivisected by their own parents. Would vivisection even be the right word for it? Mer was definitely vivisected, but Danny? He's already dead. So wasn't he just... dissected?

These thoughts spun and flashed through his head in one way or another, and before he knew it, half an hour had passed.

The gas station was pretty small. There was one car next to it, probably the employees. The guy at the counter did a double take when he saw Danny, like he recognized him, right before he put down his switch and pulled out his phone. Danny walked onto one of the isles and felt like he was being watched. He looked back, and the cashier looked away, suspiciously. Danny picked out five sandwiches, a tube of toothpaste, and a pack of bandages. 10 rolls should last, right? Oh, rolls! They need toilet paper. He got one of the smaller packs so it wouldn't take up too much room. He brought the items to the counter. "Where's the water?"

"Oh, we're out. The next delivery should be here in a few hours."

Hours? They can't wait hours. Little Mer needs water now. "Do, do you have a working sink?" Danny tried. His desperation must have shown on his face because the guy had a bag full of empty bottles by a sink before Danny could finish his thought.

"This stuff isn't the cleanest, but it's better than nothing." He placed a bottle on the table with a smile.

Danny could cry. He wasn't about to in front of a stranger, but it was a very real possibility.

For some reason, the guy snapped a picture of him on the way out. Danny figured he'd been so helpful that it was probably fine.

Danny took a sip from one of the bottles they'd stuffed in his dufflebag. The guy was right. This stuff definitely wasn't clean.

Used watercolors because I'm a dick.

Bonus uncolored

Its a terrifying scene. The camera angle revealing parts of a science lab straight out of hell. Kitchen knifes and scalpels lay dripping on a table.

On the dissection table- because thats all it could be- lays a small child. Small but noticable gills on the neck, the occasional fleck of scales and webbed fingers mark them as merfolk.

Viewers watch on in horror as the table is bloodied. A steady incision made in the left leg. The Justice League had been contacted but there was no indication they would make it in time to help.

A large Bang! went off in the background of the video, clearly catching the duo off guard. The man turned to his (wife?) with a weird moniter in his hands going off the charts and with an excited yelp they both took off running up the steps that were just barely in frame behind them.

A few long moments later, two teens sneak into the lab. The boy rushed over to unchain their parents 'test subject' while the girl kept watch.

Freshly released limbs had bloody wounds rubbed into the pinned down areas and quiet whispers of empathy were only just picked up by the audio. One of the viewers pointed out that the boy himself had scars in similar places.

The boy picked up the kid and the trio quickly slipped away out of camera view. Soft thuds mark their escape from the house, seemingly unaware of the Livestream their parents were apparently trying to make.

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

The story makes international news and leaves everyone on high alert. Government agencies scramble to prove they had no connection to the couple, the GIW undergos mass arrest when their names Maddie and Jack Fenton come up on their payroll. A channel is made to document any sightings of the kids.

The first one is posted after a day. It's security footage from a fast food restaruant. Four teens- the two from before plus a goth and someone named ''Tucker''- along with the comparitively tiny Mer sit in a booth. ''Tucker'' and "Sam'' argue about possible dietary restriction before seemingly ordering one of everything. There is soup, and a burger, the largest cup filled with water they could find in the back, chicken tenders and salad.

When the server goes to deliver everything, the four watch them like hawks, understandable given the previous day.

(Did any of them even know Half the world knew what went down? )

(Did any of them know how Aquaman was taking the news of one of his subjects being injured like that? )

( Did any of them realize that their choice to protect the kid was one of the main reasons war hadn't been declared yet on the human race?)

Jasmine is heard softly encouraging the tiny Mer to eat something, anything and eventually the soup is downed and apparently liked enough that she gets up to order more.

Right before they leave, while under the relative safety of a roof, they swap the bandages wrapped around most of the kids leg and arms and slowly tell them about future plans despite the fact that they probably can't understand the language.

(Jasmine points at a laptop screen filled with a view of the ocean. "We" she circles the group with her pinky "are going there to get you home." The atlantian can't speak english but the way their eyes light up and they relax further into Sams side shows they understand the basic message)

(The sight- of the child definitely scared but trusting them enough to get so close- helps calm the atlantians with access to the internet. Somewhere Aquaman finds himself able to breathe slightly easier.)

[your-turn-to-role]

got twins on the brain again, and while i never want to be one to police other peoples' fanart, especially when the official art starts doing this too by the time we hit tlovm, i do think it's a tragedy that the common depiction of the twins these days is as indistinguishable from being elves

bc the fact that as half elves they are easily clockable as outsiders to either humans or elves is a huge part of their story

as someone with a lot of experience in that myself, i can say with certainty that while you want to be able to call both sides of you your identity, in practice the people of that identity excluding you for being not enough like them just makes you feel like you're lying if you call yourself either

and when it comes to vex and vax, as usual, they both respond to that in opposite ways!

vax wants to be human. he has immense nostalgia for the time they had with their mother, and an even more intense hatred for everything about syngorn. every time someone in the campaign mistakes him for an elf he immediately gets set on edge and has to correct them. even with sprigg, where he's pretending not to listen in to sprigg's ramblings, the second sprigg refers to him as the elf boy, he has to jump in with this

vex, on the other hand, wants to be an elf. the bullying she faced in syngorn for being too human destroyed her self esteem, and she's constantly trying to prove she's good enough to be one of them. it doesn't come naturally to her either, her being herself sticks out in a way she finds deeply embarrassing, and so many of all her layers and masks and pretenses have been built up to originally cover a single fact - she just isn't an elf

and skipping over that also means you lose another facet i love, which is that vax moving to zephrah and vex moving to whitestone wasn't just about being near their respective partners

if you take the comics as canon, keyleth was the first half elf either of them had met aside from each other. and keyleth's existence was a revelation for vax - half elves aren't all a product of an interracial relationship. keyleth's parents are both also half elves. zephrah represents generations of half elves, it's the first community he genuinely feels at home in. yes he loves keyleth but also just being around the people of zephrah is the first time he's ever gotten evidence of people like him not being a mistake. he can have an identity that's his own, instead of trying and failing to meet either criteria of his heritage

percy and vex take a different approach. he can't undo all the bullying she faced as a kid, nor can he solve all the world's bigotry, but he can show her that what makes her different is a good thing. the grey hunt title is earned, not given, which means that nothing and no one can take it away from her, not even him. she's not an elf, but she can be better. she's not human, but whitestone isn't just a home to humans anymore. they're rebuilding the city from the ground up, with her at the heart of it. she's earned her place here not because of what she was born as, but because of who she became. she is the foundation. and that makes whitestone more of a home than any place that made her jump through hoops to belong there

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

The Long Game

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Fem!Aviator!Reader

Slow Burn & Smut

Call Sign: Cipher

I knew the stares were coming before I even stepped off the transport van.

The heat clung to me like a second skin as I walked across the tarmac of North Island, boots striking pavement with a rhythm I hoped sounded like confidence. Not nervousness. Not hesitation. Just movement—forward, always forward.

“Cipher,” a voice called out behind me, sharp and warm.

Natasha Trace—Phoenix—grinned as she jogged up beside me. Her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, uniform half-wrinkled, all confidence. She looked exactly the same. Like home, if I believed in that kind of thing anymore.

“Didn’t think they’d actually send you.”

“They almost didn’t.” My voice stayed flat. “But someone in D.C. wants me out of sight. I guess this is as far as they could push me.”

Phoenix gave me a look I knew too well. Soft sympathy, no pity. She knew better.

“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

We walked together toward the hangar. A wall of voices echoed ahead—laughing, teasing, steel-toed swagger and aviators. The squad.

“Anyone I should be nervous about?” I asked, already bracing for it.

Phoenix glanced at me. “They’ve heard of you. But they don’t know you.”

I didn’t ask what they’d heard. I didn’t have to. The Navy rumor mill worked faster than any news outlet. Cheated on. Lied to. Publicly. A man with a shiny rank and dirt under his fingernails made sure I was humiliated before he left the relationship and the country. I never responded. Not once. Let them guess.

“Great,” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

The squad was already gathered in the hangar: familiar callsigns, unfamiliar eyes. I clocked them quickly. Rooster, Hangman, Fanboy, Payback—loud, easy energy. And standing off to the side, reading something on a tablet, was one I hadn’t met. Calm posture. Clean lines. Wireframe glasses. The only one not trying to look at me without looking at me.

Bob Floyd.

Nat nudged me. “Play nice.”

I gave her a dry look.

Hangman was the first to approach, of course. “So you’re Cipher.”

“That’s what the patch says.” I didn’t stop walking.

“Just trying to be friendly,” he said, flashing a grin. “We don’t usually get the Navy’s media darlings around here.”

“Must be my lucky day,” I replied.

A low whistle came from Fanboy, and Rooster elbowed him in the ribs, not bothering to hide his laugh. But I didn’t care about their games. They weren’t new to me.

Phoenix introduced me to the group with as little ceremony as possible. “Cipher’s your new wing. She’s flying solo until pairings reshuffle.”

Rooster offered a nod, more curious than guarded. Payback smiled politely. Fanboy seemed unsure if he was allowed to speak to me. Bob—quiet, thoughtful—just looked up from his tablet and met my eyes.

He didn’t say anything. Just offered a small nod.

No judgment. No awkward grin. No I read everything about you online vibe. Just…presence.

I gave him one back. Equally small. Maybe smaller.

That was all.

I didn’t speak in the locker room.

Not because I had nothing to say, but because I didn’t trust what would come out if I started. The squad filled the space like a living thing—teasing each other, trading sarcastic barbs, familiar in a way I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. It was like watching a party from outside the house, lights warm but unreachable.

I took a bench in the corner. Laid out my gear with muscle memory that felt mechanical. Helmet, gloves, checklist. Precision. Control.

Nat plopped down next to me without asking. “You good?”

“Always.”

She gave me a look. “You know, if you don’t talk to them, they’ll just assume you hate them.”

I shrugged. “They’re not wrong.”

That made her laugh—loud and unguarded. “At least you’re consistent.”

“Pairings?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Mav’s switching it up every run. Random at first. Says it’ll push us to sharpen instincts.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like a headache.”

She grinned. “Sounds like training.”

I didn’t ask who I’d be paired with. I didn’t care, or at least I pretended not to. But when Maverick strode in a few minutes later and started reading off names, I tuned in.

“Phoenix and Fanboy. Hangman and Payback. Cipher… you’re flying with Floyd.”

I barely blinked.

Nat did, though. Her eyes flicked to mine with a quiet curiosity.

Bob Floyd. The guy with the still posture and the eyes that didn’t miss much. I could do worse.

He met me by the Hornet with a nod.

“Cipher.”

“Floyd,” I replied, zipping up my G-suit. “You good back there?”

“I’m always good back there.”

I paused. Looked up at him. No arrogance. No smirk. Just quiet confidence. He meant it.

“Let’s see if that holds,” I said.

He smiled, just barely. “Let’s.”

—

Up in the air, everything felt sharper. Crisper. My hands molded to the stick like they belonged there, instincts kicking in before thought had a chance to catch up. Bob’s voice filtered through my headset, low and steady. Clear. Calm.

“Bandit coming in on your six—three clicks. Banking right.”

“I see him.”

“You’ve got two seconds to counter.”

“I only need one.”

I pulled the maneuver hard and clean, ducked the simulated missile, looped back through the canyon, and caught a second target dead-on with a lock I shouldn’t have had time to make.

Silence.

Then Bob’s voice again, softer now.

“Nice flying.”

“Didn’t do it for praise,” I muttered.

“Didn’t give it for you.”

That caught me off-guard—just enough to make my chest tighten, almost like a laugh. Almost.

He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t perform. He didn’t pry. He just… showed up. Flew well. Spoke only when needed. And when I pushed, he didn’t push back.

I wasn’t used to that.

—

When we landed, Maverick gave us a glance that meant “interesting.” He didn’t say anything, just made a mark on his clipboard.

Back in the hangar, the others were already pulling off helmets and razzing each other. Rooster gave me a subtle nod across the room—respect. Payback asked Nat how I flew. Hangman was suspiciously quiet.

Bob sat down on the bench beside me without asking.

“You don’t talk much,” he said, not unkindly.

I glanced sideways. “Neither do you.”

“Guess we’ll get along just fine.”

I didn’t respond. But my silence wasn’t rejection—it was something else. Consideration. And maybe he knew that.

Because when he stood up, he didn’t push for more.

“See you on the next run, Cipher.”

He walked away, shoulders relaxed, not waiting for a goodbye.

And for the first time since I’d landed on base, I realized I wasn’t bracing for impact.

I was waiting for something else entirely.

I didn’t plan to go to the Hard Deck.

In fact, I told Nat twice that I wasn’t going. Once while peeling off my flight suit, and again while half-watching her braid her hair back in our shared room. But she looked at me with that stubborn gleam in her eye — the same one she wore before every high-G maneuver — and said, “You’re not getting out of this, Cipher. You need to let them see you.”

“I’m not interested in being seen.”

“Well, they already see you,” she said. “Might as well be in control of what they’re looking at.”

Annoying. Smart. Phoenix.

I wore black. Clean lines. Minimal makeup. Something about dressing simply gave me control, let me decide what I was showing instead of what they’d try to dig up.

The bar was warm and humming with energy when we arrived. Pool balls cracking. Country music on a loop. Pilots gathered in loose groups — some I recognized, others I’d heard stories about. I followed Nat’s lead toward the squad, who’d claimed the high tables near the jukebox.

Hangman spotted me first.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said, grin wide and bright like a billboard. “Didn’t think you were the social type, Cipher.”

“I’m not.”

“Then this must be a Phoenix miracle.”

“I’m very persuasive,” Nat said, smirking as she handed me a beer.

Bob was already there, quietly nursing his own bottle. He looked up as I approached but didn’t say anything. Just nodded — a small gesture, like punctuation at the end of a sentence.

Rooster pulled me into a round of darts with Payback and Fanboy. I went along, mostly to keep Hangman from drawing attention to me. But I kept catching glimpses — eyes that lingered just a second longer, conversations that quieted when I walked by. I’d lived through it before. The whispers. The That’s her… of it all.

Public humiliation has a way of making you infamous.

Especially when your Navy pilot boyfriend cheats on you with a junior officer, denies it, then accuses you of instability when the story breaks. The headlines were a storm I hadn’t asked for — just tried to survive.

I didn’t wear it on my skin, but the wind still howled behind me.

“Cipher!” Fanboy called, grinning. “Come sing!”

“No.”

“Come on! You look like you could use a little Springsteen therapy!”

“I’d rather get shot down in a simulator.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the group. Even Bob chuckled under his breath.

But Nat was already dragging me by the wrist toward the karaoke mic.

“You owe me for dragging you here,” she said, victorious.

I could’ve fought harder. Could’ve pulled back. But something about the way Bob looked at me — calm, not amused but… interested — made me step up. The music started, some vintage rock number I half-knew, and I sang. I didn’t belt it. I didn’t shake the walls. But I sang like I meant it.

People watched.

Bob did, too.

Not like the others — not dissecting me or sizing me up. Just watching, like he wanted to understand something I hadn’t said yet.

And for one second, I felt exposed.

When the song ended, I handed the mic off and stepped outside. I needed air. Space. Quiet.

The night was cooler than I expected, the salt breeze cutting through the heat of the bar. I leaned against the deck railing, trying to remember how to breathe without having to think about it.

Footsteps behind me.

Not Nat’s.

“You didn’t want to come,” Bob said.

I didn’t answer.

“But you did.”

He came to stand beside me, close but not too close. Just enough to make his presence feel intentional.

“I don’t like being on display,” I said quietly.

“I noticed.”

There was no pressure to say more. No prying. Just a pause, open and easy.

“I hate that they know,” I said before I could stop myself.

“About him?”

My jaw tensed.

“People talk,” he said gently. “Doesn’t mean they know anything.”

I glanced at him. “You don’t.”

He met my eyes. “No. But I listen.”

Something in my chest wavered.

He didn’t offer pity. He didn’t promise to fix anything. He just stood there, quiet and steady beside me, like air traffic control during a storm.

“Thank you,” I said before I could swallow it back.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

The beach was Nat’s idea.

Of course it was.

—

She told me it was team bonding. “Tradition,” she said, grinning like the devil. “Mandatory,” she added, when I gave her the look.

I tried to make excuses — had reports to finish, laundry to do, a thousand ways to avoid being half-buried in sand with people who still didn’t know if they were supposed to talk about the headlines or pretend they didn’t exist.

But Nat was relentless. And honestly? I was too tired to keep saying no.

So I showed up.

Black tank top, aviators, hair pulled back in a braid. No one asked me to play at first. They weren’t sure how close to stand, how much was too much. It was easier that way. I kept to the shade with a beer, watching as the others launched into a game of dogfight football like their lives depended on it.

Rooster dove into the sand, yelling something about a fumble that didn’t exist. Hangman and Payback were locked in some macho shoving match. Nat zigzagged between them like a bullet. And Bob…

Bob was steady. Patient. He didn’t move like the others — no showboating, no shouting. He ran clean routes, made smart passes. He played like someone who understood rhythm, not noise.

He caught my eye once — not because I was trying to look, but because I already was.

He offered a smile. Brief. Real.

I nodded. Sipped my beer.

Eventually, Nat called for me. “Cipher! You’re in.”

I could’ve said no. Probably should have.

But something pulled at me — not the desire to play, not the camaraderie I still wasn’t sure I wanted. Just the fact that for a minute, I forgot to remember what I’d lost. For a minute, I remembered I used to be someone else.

I stepped in.

Within five minutes, I had a touchdown.

Within ten, I was trash-talking Hangman so fast he missed a block.

By the time Nat shouted, “Last play! Winner takes bragging rights for the month,” I was breathless and wild and didn’t recognize the laugh that came out of me.

The ball snapped. I cut left. Bob tracked me — saw it before I even moved.

We locked eyes across the sand, and I knew.

The ball flew. I jumped.

Caught it mid-air. Fell hard into the sand.

Someone — Payback, I think — dove after me too late and landed in a heap next to me. “Damn, Cipher,” he groaned. “You don’t miss.”

I sat up, brushing sand from my arms.

Bob stood over me, just a little winded. “You okay?”

I nodded. “That a real pass or were you showing off?”

He smiled again — that small, crooked half-smile that didn’t ask for anything. “Wouldn’t dare show off with you on the field.”

Nat whooped. Rooster clapped me on the back. Hangman grumbled about bad calls. Everyone buzzed around us, the way teams do when the game’s done and the adrenaline still lingers.

But I stayed sitting for a second longer.

Watching Bob.

He’d already turned back to the group, offering someone else a water bottle. But he’d looked at me like I was here. Not the Cipher from the headlines. Not the girl who got cheated on and ghosted by command when she tried to report it. Just… me.

And that?

That was dangerous.

Because I knew what happened when you let yourself get seen.

-

The hangar was quiet, save for the soft hum of a floor fan and the occasional creak of cooling metal. Most of the squad had cleared out hours ago, eager for drinks, beach plans, or anything that didn’t involve more forms.

I stayed behind.

Old habit — staying late, cleaning up details no one cared about but me. Maybe I liked the quiet. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to go home to a dark room and my own thoughts.

Bob was still here too.

I hadn’t noticed at first. He moved like silence — neat, efficient, unobtrusive. But when I looked up from my logbook, there he was, at the desk across from mine, flipping through reports with a red pen and a furrowed brow.

“You always stay this late?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He glanced up, a little startled, then offered a small shrug. “Only when the numbers don’t add up.”

I raised a brow. “You’re a perfectionist.”

Bob paused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Just… rare.”

Silence stretched between us, not awkward, not charged. Just… easy. A kind of stillness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then my stomach growled. Loudly.

Bob looked up again, startled — then smiled, just barely. “Guess we forgot to eat.”

I blinked. “You didn’t eat either?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t notice.”

That made two of us.

A beat passed. Then he pulled out his phone. “I can order something. You like Chinese?”

I hesitated.

I should’ve said no. Should’ve made up an excuse, pretended I had something frozen waiting for me back home.

But instead I nodded. “Yeah. Chinese works.”

—

We sat on the hangar floor, takeout containers between us, eating lo mein with plastic forks like two rookies back from their first flight.

“This feels illegal,” I muttered around a bite. “Eating greasy noodles in a government hangar.”

Bob grinned. “Don’t tell Maverick.”

A laugh caught in my throat before I could stop it.

He looked at me like he’d just won something.

After a while, the conversation quieted. Not uncomfortable — just… heavier. The kind of silence where everything starts to feel a little more real. A little closer.

“You don’t talk much,” I said quietly, still not looking at him.

Bob shrugged. “Neither do you.”

Touché.

“But,” he added after a beat, “I notice things.”

I glanced at him. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“You read the same three lines of that maintenance log five times,” he said softly. “Your left shoulder tenses when someone brings up press. You pretend you’re not watching people, but you’re tracking exits. And you never look at your phone unless someone else is looking.”

I froze.

His voice didn’t change. “That doesn’t scare me.”

I looked away. “It should.”

And that was when he kissed me.

Soft. Careful. Like a question. Like I could still say no.

I didn’t.

At least not right away.

His hand found the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek. The warmth of him — the steadiness — made something in me ache.

But just as my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, just as his breath hitched against mine—

I pulled back.

Fast. Like I’d been burned.

“I—” I stood abruptly, putting space between us. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

Bob blinked, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” I said too quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But you did. You made me feel safe. You made me forget.

I forced a smile, already backing away. “I should go.”

He nodded, still sitting on the floor, still looking like he wanted to reach for me but knew better.

“Cipher—”

“Don’t,” I said, voice low. “Just… don’t.”

And I left.

Not because I didn’t want it.

Because I did.

But want had never been safe.

And I was done mistaking kindness for promises.

-

It had been months since I transferred in. Months of settling into this team. Months of drills and missions and inside jokes I somehow earned my way into. I had a seat at the table now — someone always saved me a spot. I sparred with Rooster, laughed with Payback, threw bar peanuts at Hangman. Phoenix still had my six.

But only Bob ever saw everything I didn’t say.

We never talked about it. The almosts. The whens and should we’s that hung like smoke between us. A kiss after late paperwork. A hug that lasted too long in the dark outside the Hard Deck. His hand brushing mine during flight checks.

We never let it go further. Not because we didn’t want to.

Because I couldn’t.

And he never asked me to explain why.

That’s how I knew it was real.

Now we were here — stranded in a half-frozen cabin, grounded and waiting out a blizzard that swallowed the world whole. 

“I keep things locked up,” I said again, quieter.

Bob looked at me like he could see the whole storm playing out behind my eyes. He didn’t press. Didn’t pry. Just passed me a thermal mug of weak black coffee and sat closer, the blanket tugged tighter around both of us.

The fire popped. My fingers were numb even with gloves. And his thigh was pressed to mine so solidly it felt like an anchor.

“I’m sorry,” I said, surprising both of us.

“For what?” he asked.

“For letting it go this far and… still keeping you at arm’s length.”

Bob’s expression didn’t change. But something flickered behind his eyes — something soft and steady.

“You don’t owe me anything, Cipher,” he said. “But if you want me to stop, you need to say so.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned in, my heart pounding in my ears. I pressed my mouth to his, the kiss slow and deliberate, like I was finally giving in to something I’d been fighting for far too long. It was nothing like the stolen kisses we’d shared before—no rushed moments in hallways, no hiding in the shadows. This one was deep, intentional, like everything I hadn’t let myself want was finally surfacing.

Bob kissed me back, his hands moving to my jaw, steady and reverent, like he was afraid I’d shatter if he held me too tightly. But I didn’t want gentle. I wanted him, all of him, and I shifted closer, until I was almost in his lap, the blanket forgotten.

His lips moved to my neck, his breath hot against my chilled skin. One hand ghosted beneath the hem of my shirt, his touch light but insistent, like he was mapping the contours of my body for the first time. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the way his touch set my nerves on fire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, his words a low rumble that sent a thrill through me. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

I tilted my head back, exposing more of my neck to him, and he took the invitation, his lips trailing kisses along my collarbone. His hand slid higher, his fingers brushing the underside of my breast, and I gasped, my body arching into his touch.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

I closed my eyes, my heart racing. “I want you to take your time,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I want you to make me feel it.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, like he needed to see the truth in them. “I will,” he promised, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll make you feel everything.”

His hands moved slower then, deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of me. He unbuttoned my shirt, his fingers trembling slightly, and I helped him slide it off my shoulders, leaving me in just my bra. The cabin was cold, but his touch was fire, his palms warm as they glided over my skin.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his gaze lingering on my body, his admiration undeniable. “So fucking perfect.”

I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I reached for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head, revealing the lean, muscular frame beneath. His skin was warm, his chest dusted with fine hair, and I ran my hands over him, tracing the lines of his abs, the ridges of his shoulders.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, my voice shaky.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and pulled me closer, his lips finding mine again. This time, the kiss was hungry, desperate, like we’d both been starving for this moment. His hands moved to my back, unhooking my bra with practiced ease, and I let it fall to the floor, my breath hitching as his gaze raked over me.

“God, you’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’ve dreamed about this.”

I felt a surge of desire at his words, my confidence growing under his gaze. I reached for the waistband of his pants, my fingers trembling as I undid the button and pulled down the zipper. 

He hissed as my hand slid inside, wrapping around his erection, and I smirked, a wicked thrill running through me.

“You like that?” I asked, my voice low and teasing.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch. “You have no idea.”

I stroked him slowly, savoring the way his body reacted to my touch, the way his breath quickened, his muscles tensing. “Tell me what you want,” I whispered, echoing his earlier words. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with mine, his expression raw with need. “I want you to take control,” he said, his voice steady despite the desire burning in his eyes. “I want you to make me yours.”

The words sent a jolt of power through me, and I leaned in, kissing him deeply as I continued to stroke him. His hands moved to my hips, guiding me onto his lap, and I straddled him, our bodies pressing together, his hardness nestled against my core.

“You feel so good,” I murmured, grinding down on him, my breath catching at the friction.

“Not as good as you’re about to feel,” he promised, his hands moving to my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, making me arch into his touch.

I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure washed over me. “Bob, please—”

“Soon,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But first, I want to taste you.”

Before I could respond, he stood, lifting me with him, and carried me to the couch, laying me down gently. He knelt between my legs, his gaze intense as he looked at me, like he was memorizing every detail of my body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said again, his voice filled with awe. “Let me show you how much I want you.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants and pulled them down, along with my underwear, leaving me completely bare. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was so full of desire and reverence that I couldn’t look away.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing my inner thigh, sending shivers through me. “So fucking perfect.”

He kissed his way up my legs, his touch feather-light, his breath hot against my skin. When he reached my core, he paused, his gaze meeting mine, like he was asking for permission.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice desperate. “I need you.”

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin, and then his mouth was on me, his tongue tracing patterns that made me gasp and squirm. He was gentle at first, teasing, his tongue flicking against my clit, his fingers parting my folds. But then he grew bolder, his tongue plunging inside me, his fingers joining in, thrusting in and out in a rhythm that had me moaning his name.

“Bob—oh God, Bob—”

“You taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, his voice muffled but filled with delight. “So sweet. So fucking sweet.”

His words sent a rush of pleasure through me, and I arched into his touch, my hands tangling in his hair, holding him close. He sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling, his fingers pumping faster, and I felt the coil of tension inside me tighten, the pleasure building to an unbearable pitch.

“Bob, I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice a low growl. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words were all it took. My body shook as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my cries echoing in the small cabin. Bob drank it all in, his mouth never stopping, his fingers relentless, until I was a trembling mess beneath him.

When I finally came down, he kissed his way back up my body, his lips brushing mine, his eyes shining with satisfaction. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, my heart full, my body still buzzing with pleasure. “Your turn,” I said, reaching for his pants, my fingers trembling with anticipation.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and let me pull them down, his erection springing free. I took him in my hand, stroking him slowly, my thumb brushing the tip, and he groaned, his head falling back.

“Fuck, Cipher,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to kill me.”

I leaned in, kissing him deeply as I continued to stroke him, my mouth moving in time with my hand. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me close, his hips thrusting slightly into my touch.

“I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I want to feel you around me.”

I smiled against his lips. “Then take me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom, and rolled it on with shaking hands. Then he positioned himself at my entrance, his gaze meeting mine, like he needed my permission one last time.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation. “Now.”

He thrust into me, slow and steady, his eyes closing as he savored the sensation. I gasped at the fullness, at the way he stretched me, filled me completely. He was thick, his length pressing deep, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a low groan. “So tight. So perfect.”

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the way my body felt around his. I met his rhythm, my hips moving with his, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The fire crackled, the blizzard raged outside, but in that moment, there was only him, only us.

“Bob—” I moaned, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure built inside me again.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice commanding. “Look at me when you come.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze, and saw the raw desire burning in them. His thrusts grew harder, faster, his control slipping as he chased his own release.

“Cipher—fuck—I’m close—”

“Come with me,” I urged, my voice shaky. “Let go.”

His eyes closed, his face contorting with pleasure as he thrust deep one last time, his body stiffening as he came, his name on my lips. I followed him over the edge, my body shaking as my orgasm crashed into me, my cries mingling with his.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged, the world outside forgotten. Then Bob pulled out, disposing of the condom, and gathered me into his arms, holding me close as we caught our breath.

“That was—” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips soft against mine.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “It was everything.”

I smiled, my heart full, my body still buzzing with pleasure. The blizzard raged on outside, but inside the cabin, we had found our own warmth, our own sanctuary. And as I snuggled into his embrace

—

The first thing I notice is the warmth.

The second is him.

Bob’s arm is slung over my waist, his chest pressed to my back, breathing slow and steady like he’s actually relaxed for once. I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but his hand tightens on my side, pulling me back in like I belong there.

I let myself stay, just for a moment. Eyes closed, heart soft, memorizing the feeling of him—his warmth, the faint scratch of stubble on my neck, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my palm.

Then I feel it—his breath against my ear, the faintest huff of a laugh.

“You’re awake,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep. “Didn’t want to move.”

I turn over to face him, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at. His hair’s sticking up in every direction, glasses askew, and he’s wearing that old, soft Top Gun t-shirt that’s probably seen more sunrises than either of us.

He brushes a hand gently across my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s his job.

“So, uh…” He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. “Are we… uh, are we a thing now?”

I blink at him, caught off guard.

“A thing?” I echo, voice soft.

His cheeks flush pink, but he holds my gaze, eyes wide and hopeful. “I mean… I’ve kinda wanted to be a thing since, I dunno… the first time you called me ‘Glasses’ in front of the whole team.”

A laugh bursts out of me—a real one, bright and unfiltered.

“That was a joke!”

“Was it, though?” he grins, that crooked, Bob grin that makes my heart stumble in my chest.

I look at him—really look at him—and suddenly, I know.

“I think I want to be,” I say quietly, the words feeling heavy and light all at once. “I want this. I want you.”

His eyes go soft, impossibly tender, and he leans in, brushing a kiss to my forehead—gentle, reverent, like I’m something fragile he’s been waiting years to hold.

And I’m pretty sure I stop breathing.

We sit like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet, our fingers tangled together. The storm still rages outside, but in here, it’s warm—safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Eventually, Bob untangles himself and shuffles over to the tiny stove, fiddling with the ancient coffee pot like it might bite him.

“God, this stuff is terrible,” he mutters when the coffee finally sputters out, a thin, watery excuse for caffeine.

I take a sip anyway, wincing. “It’s… something.”

He laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world.

Then the radio crackles.

“Rescue team’s ten minutes out. You two decent in there?”

Phoenix’s voice, clear as day.

Bob practically chokes on his coffee, coughing and wide-eyed, while I scramble to grab the radio.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “Just cold, tired, and ready to get the hell out of here.”

I glance at Bob, and he gives me a little grin—quiet, shy, like we’re sharing a secret.

Because we are.

When the team finally bursts in, Bob and I act like nothing happened. Just two aviators, weathering a storm.

But as we step outside into the snow, his hand brushes mine—and this time, I let my fingers curl into his. Just for a second.

Long enough for him to know I’m not going anywhere.

And I know—neither is he.

—

Back at base, everything’s supposed to go back to normal. Briefings, drills, checklists, the whole routine like clockwork.

But nothing feels normal. Not when every time I glance up, I catch Bob already looking at me—soft, quiet, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knows something no one else does.

Like he knows me.

And maybe the others don’t notice at first. But it starts adding up.

Like how I’ll get up from the ready room table to grab a coffee or “go to the bathroom,” and not five minutes later, Bob magically has to stretch his legs, too.

“Oh, uh, I’ll—uh—head that way too, I guess,” he’ll mumble, cheeks pink.

The first time, no one blinks. The second time, Rooster’s eyebrow quirks up. The third time, Phoenix catches my eye and smirks like she knows.

And the worst part? We’re so bad at playing it cool.

Phoenix crosses her arms, smirking, and leans in toward Rooster, whispering loudly, “I give it a week before they start wearing matching sweaters.”

“Two days,” Fanboy counters.

“Guys,” Bob protests, flustered, but it’s half-hearted at best. His eyes find mine across the room, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot.

It only gets worse.

Inside jokes start cropping up—mostly between Bob and me. Like the time Mav asks a question during a briefing, and Bob murmurs, “I think we need… cabin coffee for this.”

I choke on my drink, snorting so hard I nearly spill it all over my notes.

Everyone turns to stare.

Bob just sits there, all wide-eyed and innocent, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he just did.

And the way he looks at me after—soft, secret, like he’s holding onto a memory only we share—makes my chest ache in the best way.

the other night at the Hard Deck.

Everyone’s packed in, the bar loud with music and laughter, darts flying, bottles clinking. I’m at the bar, waiting for my drink, when Bob slips in beside me—close, but not too close.

“Hey,” he murmurs, soft enough that no one else hears.

“Hey, Bob,” I say back, fighting a grin.

It’s too easy, the way we fall into our own little world. He nudges my shoulder, and I nudge him back. We share a look when Payback tries to tell some long, winding story about a failed maneuver, and Bob’s eyes sparkle like he’s holding back a laugh just for me.

Then there’s the dart game.

Phoenix lines up her shot, eyebrow cocked. “Loser buys the next round.”

Bob steps up behind me and murmurs, “Aim a little left.”

I smirk. “Since when are you my coach, Floyd?”

He leans in—too close, definitely not regulation—and whispers, “Since the cabin.”

I nearly drop the dart.

Phoenix catches it. “What’s that about a cabin?”

Bob’s ears go bright red, and I’m this close to smacking him with the dartboard.

-

It was supposed to be a quick moment.

Just five minutes, tucked away in a quiet corner of the hangar after everyone had cleared out. Bob had been rambling about flight patterns, his hands waving in the air, glasses slipping down his nose, and I couldn’t help it—I had to kiss him.

And now here we are.

His back’s against the cold metal wall, his hands warm on my hips, his mouth soft and everywhere on mine.

It’s sweet and slow, like we’ve got all the time in the world, like the whole world shrank down to just this: me, Bob, and the sound of our ragged breathing echoing in the quiet.

I break away, forehead pressed to his, catching my breath.

“I like this,” Bob whispers, his voice so soft it feels like a secret.

“Me too,” I murmur, smiling against his lips, and then I’m pulling him in for another kiss—

And that’s when we hear it.

A loud, dramatic throat-clear.

I freeze. Bob’s eyes go wide, lips still parted, breath caught halfway between oh no and please let it be someone else.

Slowly—so slowly—we turn toward the noise.

And there, standing with his arms crossed and a very smug grin, is Hangman.

“Now, what do we have here?” he drawls, drawing out the words like he’s savoring every single syllable.

Bob practically jumps away from me, nearly tripping over his own feet. I swipe at my lips, cheeks burning, and try to come up with literally anyexplanation.

“Uh—” I start.

“Nope!” Hangman cuts in, holding up a hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t even try. I know exactly what I saw.”

Bob’s face is a shade of red I didn’t even know was humanly possible.

“Hangman,” I say, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. “You can’tsay anything.”

He smirks, like he’s won the lottery. “Oh, I can say something. In fact, I’m dying to.”

Bob looks like he might actually pass out.

“Jake, please,” Bob says, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”

“Please, Hangman,” I add, and I’m pretty sure my voice is borderline begging.

He taps a finger against his chin, pretending to think about it. “Hmm… what’s it worth to you?”

I narrow my eyes. “You would pull this.”

“Absolutely,” he grins, teeth blinding. “I mean, this is gold. ‘Glasses’ and ‘Cipher’ sneaking around like a couple of teenagers? The team’s gonna eat this up.”

“Jake.” Bob’s voice is soft, but desperate.

Hangman glances at him, then back at me, and for a second—just a second—he looks like he’s almost feeling generous.

I cross my arms, glaring. “Jake Seresin, if you say one word about this, I will personally make sure your locker mysteriously ‘loses’ all of your flight gear before your next sortie.”

Bob, bless him, tries a different tactic. “Look, we’re not trying to… make a thing out of it. Just… let us figure it out first, okay?”

Hangman’s smirk softens, just a little.

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now. But don’t think for a second I won’t collect on this later.”

Bob lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

I give Jake a long, warning stare. “Not a word.”

He holds up his hands, all innocent-like. “Scout’s honor.”

As he walks away, whistling like he’s the hero of the story, Bob groans softly, burying his face in his hands.

“Well,” I mutter, “that was… not ideal.”

Bob peeks at me through his fingers, and somehow, we both start laughing, breathless and a little hysterical.

Because of course it was Hangman. And of course we’re not gonna live this down.

But for now… at least our secret’s safe.

Sort of.

—

The sun’s low in the sky, golden and warm, casting long shadows across the Hard Deck parking lot where someone—probably Fanboy—decided it would be a good idea to haul out a grill and have an impromptu squad barbecue.

There’s laughter, music, the smell of burgers and smoke in the air.

And absolutely zero chance we’re going to make it through this without someone saying something.

Bob and I showed up separately. Obviously.

But it took exactly five minutes for us to somehow end up standing way too close by the drinks cooler, and exactly ten for Hangman to start hovering.

He’s leaning against the bar with a beer in hand, watching us like a hawk—grinning, of course. Just waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Bob’s trying to play it cool. He’s got his glasses on, hair a little messy from the wind, and he’s nodding along to whatever Rooster’s saying about football, but his hand is gripping his soda can way too tightly.

And every few seconds, he glances at me like he can’t help it. Like he’s trying to check in, make sure I’m okay, like we’re still tethered even in the middle of a crowd.

I’m just as bad. I keep catching myself smiling for no reason when he looks at me, and the way my stomach flips every time his arm brushes mine is so obvious, it’s a miracle no one’s called us out yet.

But then Hangman clears his throat.

Loudly.

“Man,” he says, voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the music, “this barbecue’s almost as hot as the sparks flying over by the cooler.”

Everyone turns.

Bob practically jumps. I freeze, a solo cup halfway to my lips, and glare daggers at Jake, who’s grinning like he just won the lottery.

Rooster’s eyebrows shoot up. Phoenix glances between us, her eyes narrowing like she’s connecting the dots.

Bob’s cheeks flush a deep, tell-tale red, and I can feel my own face heating up.

“We’re—” Bob starts, voice cracking slightly, “uh, we’re just… standing here.”

“Sure you are, Glasses,” Hangman smirks, stretching out the nickname in that infuriatingly smug drawl.

Bob sputters. I glare.

“Jake,” I warn, stepping in, voice low, “don’t.”

He just grins wider. “Relax, Cipher. I’m not saying anything… just making an observation.”

Phoenix folds her arms, watching us with a smirk, clearly enjoying the absolute trainwreck unfolding in front of her.

Bob’s about to combust. I can see it in the way he’s fidgeting, hands tugging at the hem of his t-shirt like it might save him.

So I do the only thing I can do—grab his hand under the table, squeeze gently, and shoot him a look that says we’ll survive this.

Because we will.

Eventually, the team drifts back into their conversations, the moment fading.

But Hangman?

He catches my eye, tips an imaginary hat, and mouths “You owe me”before turning away.

Bob lets out a long breath, eyes wide, and mutters, “We’re so bad at this.”

“Yeah,” I whisper back, smiling despite myself. “But I kinda like it.”

And when his fingers brush mine again, soft and quick, like a promise, I know we’ll figure it out.

Even if the whole squad knows exactly what’s going on.

-

The Hard Deck is loud tonight—music thumping, laughter bouncing off the walls, and the squad scattered across the bar like it’s home base.

I’m standing by the pool table, pretending to watch Rooster line up a shot, but really, I’m hyper-aware of Bob across the room, sitting with Hangman and Fanboy, a beer in one hand and that quiet, thoughtful look in his eyes.

It’s been like this for weeks now—stolen glances, “accidental” run-ins, lingering touches when no one’s looking.

And somehow, we’ve kept it under wraps.

Or… we had.

Because that’s when I hear it.

Bob, in his sweet, earnest voice, casually saying:

“Yeah, I think Cipher and I are just gonna grab dinner after this.”

Time freezes.

My stomach drops.

Hangman—sitting right across from Bob—slowly turns his head, a grin spreading across his face like a slow-motion car crash.

Rooster chokes on his beer, coughing so hard he has to thump his chest. Phoenix spins around from the dartboard, eyebrows halfway to the ceiling.

Bob?

Absolutely oblivious.

He’s still talking, going on about how there’s this new Italian place we’ve been wanting to try, and I can see it happening in real-time—the moment he realizes—

His voice falters.

His cheeks flush bright pink.

His eyes dart around the room like a deer in headlights, finally catching the looks being thrown his way.

“Oh,” he mumbles, blinking rapidly. “Uh. I mean… just, uh, as friends—”

“Bob.” Hangman’s voice is silk and poison, smug dripping from every syllable. “You sure about that, buddy?”

Bob opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He’s completely flustered.

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. It just bubbles up, unstoppable, and when Bob’s eyes snap to mine, mortified, I just shake my head, grinning.

“Smooth, Floyd,” I tease, crossing my arms. “Really subtle.”

Payback lets out a howl of laughter, slapping the table like he’s at a comedy show. “I knew it! Knew it, knew it!”

Bob groans, covering his face with both hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters behind his palms.

I reach over, gently tugging his hand down. “Hey. It’s okay.”

He peeks at me, cheeks still bright red, and whispers, “I’m so bad at this.”

“You’re adorable,” I whisper back, grinning so wide it hurts.

Hangman leans in, grinning ear to ear. “So… dinner date, huh?”

Bob looks at me, eyes soft and a little resigned, and then—finally—he shrugs.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, but with this quiet certainty that makes my heart flip. “Cipher and I are a thing.”

And just like that, the whole bar erupts.

Cheers, laughter, Phoenix throwing a coaster at us and yelling, “Finally!” Rooster shaking his head with a grin like he’d bet money on it months ago.

Bob looks at me, like he’s a little overwhelmed but also relieved, and I just smile, squeezing his hand under the table.

Because yeah. The secret’s out.

And it feels really, really good.

—

It’s late afternoon when I show up at Bob’s apartment, arms full of snacks, the weight of the week falling off my shoulders as soon as I step through the door.

Bob’s already in his cozy mode—sweatpants, a hoodie, glasses slightly askew as he fiddles with the TV settings, trying to make sure the entireMarvel collection is queued up for the marathon.

“Hey,” he says when he sees me, voice soft, eyes lighting up like I just made his day.

I grin, kicking off my shoes and dropping the snacks on the counter. “Hey yourself, Glasses.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, cheeks already turning pink, and I feel that familiar pull in my stomach—the one that makes it way too easy to get lost in those sweet blue eyes.

“I brought the essentials,” I say, holding up a giant bag of popcorn. “Also, drinks, candy, and…” I dig through the bag, “a whole lot of regret for the sheer amount of time we’re about to waste watching every single Marvel movie.”

Bob laughs again, softer this time, and I catch the way his gaze lingers on me a little too long.

The apartment smells like popcorn already—he’s got a batch going in the kitchen, and the windows are cracked open to let in the cool evening air. It feels comfortable, like we’ve done this a thousand times.

And maybe that’s why it happens.

I’m helping him set up the blankets on the couch—fluffing pillows, arguing over the best blanket placement—when I glance up and find him watching me.

Really watching me.

His mouth is slightly parted, eyes soft behind his glasses, like he’s thinkingsomething he hasn’t dared to say out loud yet.

My breath catches.

“What?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He swallows, shaking his head like he shouldn’t say it, but then—

“I just…” His voice is quiet, warm, gentle, like a secret he’s been keeping close to his chest. “I really like this.”

“Movie night?” I tease, even though my heart is racing.

He gives me a look—one that says, You know that’s not what I mean—and takes a small step closer, enough that I feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitches just a little when I don’t move away.

I swear the world tilts.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Bob reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and let his fingers linger on my cheek. The air between them crackled with tension, thick and electric.

“Bob,” I breathed, his name feeling like a promise on my tongue.

He leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, and kissed me. It was soft at first, a brush of lips that made my knees go weak. But then my hands were in his hair, and his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The kiss grew hungry, desperate—like we’d been waiting too long and couldn’t wait anymore.

His breath was ragged against my skin as his lips trailed down to my jaw, my neck. I tugged at his hoodie, pulling him even closer, my fingers digging into the fabric as if to anchor him to me. His hands slid down my back, pressing me against him, and I could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my shirt.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with need. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I didn’t respond with words, just tightened my grip on his hair and pulled him back up for another kiss. This time, it was fierce, our lips moving against each other with an urgency that left no doubt about how we felt.

Bob broke away first, his chest heaving as he looked at me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “Bedroom,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my ears as he took my hand and led me down the hallway. The bedroom was dimly lit, the evening light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Bob didn’t waste any time, pressing me against the door and kissing me again, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every curve.

I moaned into the kiss, my hands sliding under his hoodie to trace the muscles of his back. He was strong, his body lean and athletic, and I reveled in the feel of him against me. His lips moved down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he whispered, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The praise sent a shiver down my spine, but it was the edge in his voice—a hint of something darker, more primal—that made my knees weaken. Bob wasn’t just gentle; he was hungry, and I loved it.

He pushed me back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he hovered above me. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Do you understand?”

I smirked, arching my back slightly. “Prove it.”

The challenge in my tone seemed to ignite something in him. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp. “Oh, I will,” he growled, before slamming his lips back down on mine.

The kiss was rough now, his tongue demanding entrance as he kissed me like he was claiming me. I moaned, my body arching against his as I surrendered to the intensity of the moment. His free hand slid down my body, pulling up my shirt to expose my bra. He traced the lace with his fingers before hooking his thumbs under the straps and sliding it off, his eyes devouring me.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “Your tits are perfect.”

I felt a flush of heat at his words, the mix of praise and degradation sending a jolt of pleasure through me. Bob leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, his tongue swirling as his hand squeezed my other breast. I cried out, my head tossing back into the pillow as I tangled my fingers in his hair, urging him closer.

“Bob, please,” I panted, my body thrumming with need.

He smirked against my skin, his breath hot as he moved lower, kissing down my stomach. His hands slid down my jeans, unbuttoning them slowly, deliberately, as he looked up at me with a mix of hunger and reverence. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against me through the fabric of my panties. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, my hips lifting off the bed as he hooked his fingers into my jeans and panties, sliding them down my legs. “God, yes.”

Bob’s eyes locked on me, his expression intense as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over my core. 

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said, my voice steady despite the desperation she felt. “Now.”

He smirked, his fingers tracing the edges of my lips before slipping inside me. I was slick, my body ready for him, and he groaned at the feel of my heat enveloping his hand. 

“So fucking wet,” he repeated, his thumb pressing against my clit as he slid a second finger inside me. “You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?”

I moaned, my head falling back into the pillow as I squirmed beneath his touch. “Bob, please. I need you.”

He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my thigh. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes, even as my body betrayed me with another desperate moan. “Just get on with it.”

Bob’s smirk widened as he stood, shedding his hoodie and sweatpants to reveal his toned body. His glasses were askew, his hair tousled, and he looked utterly undone—and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. He reached for his belt, his eyes never leaving mine as he undid his jeans and pushed them down, revealing his erection, thick and hard.

My breath caught at the sight, my body aching for him. He stepped out of his jeans, kicking them aside before reaching for me again, his hands gripping my hips as he positioned himself between my legs.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I nodded, my heart pounding as he pressed the tip of his cock against my entrance. “Fuck me, Bob.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside me, his eyes closing as he let out a ragged groan. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his hips snapping forward as he began to move. Each thrust was deliberate, powerful, filling me completely as he set a relentless pace.

I met his rhythm, my body moving with his as I lost myself in the sensation. His hands gripped my hips tightly, his fingers leaving bruises as he pounded into my, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“You like this, don’t you?” he panted, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You like being fucked by me.”

“Yes,” I moaned, my head tossing back as I felt her orgasm building. “God, yes.”

Bob leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words pushed me over the edge. my body tightened around him as I cried out, my orgasm ripping through me like a wave, my nails digging into his back as I rode it out. Bob groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release, his hips snapping forward one last time before he stilled, his body trembling as he spilled himself inside me.

For a moment, we were both silent, our breaths ragged as we clung to each other. Then, just as Bob pulled out and collapsed beside me, the doorbell rang.

It’s way too quiet when the doorbell rings.

Bob and I freeze, tangled up in each other in the middle of his bed, both of us flushed and breathless, the remains of the movie night snacks scattered across the dresser.

I stare at the ceiling, panting, my shirt somewhere on the floor, and Bob’s hair is sticking up in all directions, his glasses crooked, lips definitely kiss-bruised.

And then—

Ding-dong!

“Shit.”

Bob launches himself off the bed like the doorbell is a grenade.

I can’t stop laughing, the sound bubbling up in my chest as I pull the blankets around me and watch him scramble to find his sweatpants. He’s halfway hopping into them when the team starts knocking like they’re about to bust the door down.

“Bob!” Rooster calls, voice way too loud. “You alive in there, man?”

Bob fumbles with his hoodie, cheeks flushed red, muttering under his breath as he bolts to the front door.

The second it opens—

Hangman leans in, smirking so hard it looks like his face might crack. “Well, well, if it isn’t Bobby I-Just-Got-Lucky Floyd.”

Phoenix chokes on her soda, Rooster wheezes, and Payback is dying in the back, barely holding it together.

Bob’s face goes nuclear.

“I—what? No, I—uh, we were just—” he stammers, his hands flailing.

“Oh, we know,” Hangman says, voice dripping with amusement as he pushes his way inside, holding up the pizza box like a trophy. “Just wasn’t expecting to interrupt.”

Bob looks absolutely mortified, rubbing the back of his neck as the rest of the team files in, smirking and laughing and throwing him looks.

I give it five whole minutes before I walk out of Bob’s room—wearing his hoodie, hair still a mess, cheeks burning.

The second I appear, the team erupts.

“Oh, look who finally decided to join us!” Rooster crows, clapping his hands together.

“Confirmed,” Hangman grins, gesturing between us. “Bobby ‘I-Just-Got-Lucky’ Floyd and his very happy girlfriend.”

Phoenix is leaning back in the armchair, arms crossed, giving me the most knowing smirk like, you’re not even trying to hide it anymore.

Bob groans into his hands, and I can’t help it—I’m grinning.

“Alright, alright,” I say, throwing my hands up as I grab a slice of pizza from the box. “You guys gonna keep teasing us, or are we watching Iron Man?”

Hangman just laughs, leaning back on the couch, but the glint in his eyes says this definitely isn’t the last we’ll hear about it.

Bob catches my gaze across the room, cheeks still pink, but when I smile at him, he smiles back—soft, like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

And honestly?

Neither can I.

—

The apartment is quiet chaos in the morning light.

Half the team is still asleep, sprawled across Bob’s couch and floor in a mess of blankets and empty soda cans. Rooster’s got an arm flung over his eyes, snoring like a freight train. Fanboy is curled up in an armchair, drooling slightly, and Phoenix is half-awake, mumbling to herself as she tries to shove Hangman’s very annoying leg off her lap.

Hangman, of course, is the only one who looks remotely alive—sitting at the counter in a t-shirt and sweatpants, sipping a mug of coffee like he owns the place, smirking at me and Bob every time we brush past each other in the kitchen.

“Morning, lovebirds,” he drawls, lifting his mug in a lazy salute.

Bob flushes a shade of pink I didn’t know existed, fumbling with the carton of eggs, and I can’t help but grin.

“Careful, Bagman,” I say, tilting my head as I flip a pancake, “or you’ll be on dishes duty.”

Hangman’s smirk widens like I’ve just issued a challenge.

“Oh, I know what you two were up to last night,” he says, voice just loud enough to make Bob nearly drop the spatula. “Our boy Bobby I-Just-Got-Lucky Floyd here—looking awfully smug this morning, aren’t you?”

Bob goes red—cherry red—and I nudge him with my hip, biting back a laugh as I plate the pancakes.

“You’re such an ass, Jake,” I mutter, but I’m grinning, because honestly? It feels good—to have this, to be teased like this, to have a place.

Bob glances at me, his eyes soft and warm behind his glasses, and for a second, it’s like the room melts away—just him and me, quiet and ours.

By the time everyone’s finally up, we’re gathered around the table, plates piled high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. The coffee’s lukewarm and the pancakes are a little burned at the edges, but no one cares.

The team is loud—joking, laughing, stealing food off each other’s plates. Payback’s recounting a mission gone sideways, Rooster’s half-listeningwhile arguing with Fanboy about who would win in a fight: Iron Man or Captain America.

And I’m just… watching.

Watching Bob refill Phoenix’s coffee like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Watching Hangman tease Bob and get a pancake thrown at him for it. Watching Bob’s hand rest on my knee under the table, his thumb brushing back and forth like he can’t not touch me.

It’s messy and loud and perfect.

And it hits me, sudden and deep and a little overwhelming:

I don’t have to carry the weight of my past anymore.

I don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not to my ex, not to the Navy, not even to myself.

This right here—Bob’s soft smile, the way he looks at me like I’m everything, the sound of the team laughing like family around the table—this is what matters.

I’m not the girl who got left behind.

I’m Cipher.

And I’m happy.

I catch Bob’s gaze, and he must see it—something in my face, in the way I’m holding myself, because he smiles at me like I just lit up his whole world.

And maybe I did.

[yungistiny]

WRECKED

[ J. Yunho + S. Mingi ]

╚═════════

summary: in which your boyfriend wants you to ruin his best friend but ends up getting much more than he asked for

warning: switch yunho, switch mingi, switch reader, pegging, anal (m/m), oral (f/m, m/m) unprotected sex, overstimulation, rough sex, degradation, masturbation, threesome

genre: smut

pairing: yungi x afab reader

word count: 4k

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right.

“Wait… you want me to what?”

Yunho didn’t flinch. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that cocky smirk slowly giving way to something darker. “I want to watch you fuck Mingi.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Yunho pushed off the wall, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate confidence.

“I mean really fuck him, baby,” he added, voice low and teasing. “I want to watch you ruin him with that strap you bought for me.”

That strap, bought during a drunken night filled with jokes and kink quizzes. You’d never used it, not once. It had been a fantasy, half joke, half dare from Wooyoung. But Yunho wasn’t joking now.

You swallowed hard, pulse picking up. “Yunho… are you sure?”

He nodded once. “I want it. I want to see him under you. Want to hear him beg. Want to see your fingers in his mouth while he takes it.” He paused. “He’ll let you. He wants it, too.”

As if summoned, Mingi stepped into the doorway like he’d been waiting outside. His eyes met yours, nervous, but not unsure. His tongue darted across his lips, and god, he looked so pretty when he was nervous.

“So,” Yunho murmured, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, his knees spread wide, “which one of you is gonna undress first?”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Mingi was already flushed before you even touched him.

Stripped down to just his boxers, his broad chest rising and falling with every breath, pupils dilated. You stood in front of him, running your fingers through his hair before gripping it tight, forcing his head back just enough to see Yunho watching from the bed.

“On your knees.”

He dropped instantly. Eager. Beautiful. Filthy.

Yunho groaned quietly behind you, palming himself through his sweats. You could feel his gaze on you like a second touch, watching as you spread Mingi open with lube slicked fingers, coaxing soft moans from him.

“He’s already so fucking needy,” you whispered, tilting your head back enough for Yunho to hear. “He’s been waiting for this, hasn’t he?”

Mingi let out a breathy “yes,” his voice shaking. “Please… I can take it.”

“You better,” you purred. “Because I’m not stopping until Yunho tells me to.”

When you pushed inside, Mingi choked on a moan, half pain, half pleasure, his fingers clawing into the sheets as you filled him, slow and steady.

“Fuck…. oh my god”

Yunho stood now, circling the bed like a predator, dragging two fingers across Mingi’s jaw, then gripping it tight.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching Mingi’s eyes flutter. “You’re taking her so well. You like having your ass used, huh?”

Mingi nodded weakly, breath stuttering as you pulled back and slammed forward again, harder this time. “I love it…. fuck…. I love it.”

Yunho’s gaze snapped to you, pure hunger. “Go harder.”

And you did.

You fucked Mingi like you owned him, like he was yours to break apart. Every slap of skin echoed through the room, Mingi’s moans climbing higher, filth spilling from your mouth as you leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder, fingers curling around his throat just tight enough to make him whine.

Yunho stood at the edge of the bed, hand wrapped around his dick now, slow strokes timed to your thrusts.

“She’s gonna make you come like this,” he said roughly to Mingi. “Stuffed full and dripping. What would people think if they saw you like this?”

“I don’t care,” Mingi gasped. “I just want her… please… harder…. don’t stop”

You didn’t.

He came with a strangled cry, untouched, as you rutted into him like you were never going to stop. He was shaking, begging, gasping against the sheets, but you weren’t done.

Mingi’s body was twitching beneath you, already wrecked from the first orgasm you’d dragged out of him, but you weren’t finished. You were still grinding deep, still thrusting slow and hard, relishing the way his thighs trembled, the way he whined your name like a prayer and a curse all in one.

You barely noticed Yunho strip.

But the second you felt his chest press to your back and his hand snake between your legs, you sucked in a sharp breath.

“Didn’t say I was just gonna watch, did I?” Yunho rasped into your ear, his dick already sliding through your wetness. “She’s not done with you, Mingi. Not even close.”

Mingi moaned beneath you, his voice all fucked out and slurred. “I can take it. I’ll take anything she gives me.”

“You better,” Yunho said darkly, lining himself up behind you. “Because now I’m gonna take her.”

You were already dripping, already clenching when he pushed into you with one brutal, perfect thrust. You cried out, your body arching forward from the force of it, making the strap drive even deeper into Mingi.

Mingi screamed. You gasped. Yunho groaned.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, trying to keep your rhythm, but Yunho wasn’t letting you have control anymore. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging deep, and he pounded into you with a pace that stole your balance. Each thrust shoved you forward into Mingi, harder than before, the strap plunging into him with every motion you couldn’t stop.

“F… fuck…. oh god” Mingi’s voice broke, mouth open, body shaking. “You’re… both… oh fuck… please!”

You were barely hanging on. Yunho was a machine behind you, relentless, breath hot on your neck, the slap of his hips echoing off the walls. His grip never loosened. He used your body like you were his to fuck, and you were, and the fact that you were still buried inside his best friend only made it more obscene.

“She’s fucking you,” Yunho growled to Mingi. “But I’m fucking her. You feel how deep she is right now? That’s me putting her there.”

Mingi’s legs kicked, helpless.

“Can’t move,” he sobbed. “She’s… fuck…. too deep”

“You’re gonna take it,” Yunho snapped. “You’re gonna take everything she gives you while I fuck it into her.”

Your legs were shaking, arms barely holding you up. Yunho shifted, angling himself deeper, hitting your g spot with every snap of his hips. The pleasure was dizzying, your mouth falling open.

“You’re so full, baby,” he groaned, one hand wrapping around your throat. “Strap in him, dick in you, look at you, fucking made for us.”

You couldn’t even speak. Mingi was babbling into the sheets, you were moaning, crying out with every thrust, and Yunho was rutting into you like he was punishing you for making him wait.

“You close?” he growled.

You nodded frantically, body pulsing around him.

“Then come. Come with me buried in this pussy and him stuffed full of your strap. Come, baby, now.”

And you did.

It tore through you like lightning, and your scream echoed through the room as you collapsed forward, body spasming. Mingi came again underneath you with a broken moan, and Yunho didn’t stop, he fucked you through it, through the shaking, the overstimulation, his own orgasm crashing into you seconds later as he buried himself deep and came with a growl in your ear.

All three of you were trembling by the time it ended. A sticky, panting mess of limbs and sweat and afterglow.

You stayed lying on top of Mingi, both of you whimpering as Yunho slowly pulled out, chuckling breathlessly.

“Well,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “That was better than I imagined.”

Mingi wheezed. “I think I saw god.” He was still breathless, collapsed on the bed beneath you, face flushed and twitching with aftershocks. His lips were parted like he wanted to speak, but no words came.

You were barely upright, your body covered in sweat, trembling from release, but Yunho’s hands on your hips held you steady. His chest pressed to your back. His voice a low growl at your ear.

“Now me,” he said.

You blinked. Turned your head slightly, lips brushing his cheek.

“You sure?”

He exhaled, jaw tight. “I want to feel it too. I want to know what he just felt. I want you inside me.”

That alone almost made you almost come again.

Yunho had never given over control. He never bottomed. Not for you. Not for anyone. He loved control. Loved watching you fall apart. But now, his voice was shaking and low and his body practically buzzed with need.

You pulled out of Mingi gently, both of you gasping. Mingi rolled to the side, eyes barely open but watching, dazed and fascinated. Watching Yunho.

“Come on, then,” you murmured, voice darker now. “On your knees.”

Yunho obeyed.

His muscles rippled as he shifted into position, arms bracing him on the bed, legs parted, ass bare and perfect. He didn’t look back at you, but his breathing was already shallow. Waiting.

You slicked your fingers again, sliding them down the curve of his ass, watching him twitch when you brushed his hole.

“Good boy,” you whispered, and he shuddered.

Mingi let out a shaky breath behind you, still watching everything. “Holy shit…”

You stretched him slow, careful, but firm. You wanted this to be intense. You wanted him to feel what it meant to give himself over to you. Every time your finger slid deeper, Yunho groaned, low, guttural, his thighs tensing.

“You can take more,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his spine.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Give it to me.”

So you did.

The strap slid in with a slick, slow push, and Yunho grunted, fists tightening in the sheets, hips rocking back to meet you like he needed to be filled to breathe.

“Fuuuck…. baby….”

“That’s it,” you whispered, nails digging into his hips. “You look so fucking hot like this. All mine now, huh?”

“All yours,” he growled, forehead pressed to the bed. “Fuck me. Hard. Don’t hold back.”

You didn’t.

You started slow, dragging the strap out and slamming it back in, each thrust harder than the last until Yunho was gasping, panting, moaning. Mingi had propped himself up against the headboard, still wrecked but wide eyed, stroking himself slowly as he watched you fuck his best friend into submission.

“Look at you,” you snarled, slamming in again. “Fucking whimpering for me. You like this, Yunho? Like me using you?”

“Yes,” he cried out, back arching. “More… harder… don’t stop”

You leaned forward, pressing your chest to his back, your mouth to his ear.

“You’re taking me so well. Being so good for me. Look at Mingi. He’s watching you fall apart. You feel powerless, don’t you?”

Yunho let out a strangled moan, trembling.

You reached down, stroking his dick in time with your thrusts, and it was all over from there.

He came with a growl, loud and raw, hips jerking wildly as he collapsed forward, body wracked with aftershocks. You kept moving through it, dragging every last sound from him until he was shaking, begging, cursing into the mattress.

When you finally pulled out, he rolled onto his back, chest heaving, face flushed and damp with sweat.

You hovered over him, legs shaking, but your eyes burned into his.

Yunho lay flat on his back beside you, his chest still heaving, eyes glazed and lips parted. Mingi had propped himself back on his elbows at the edge of the bed, gaze locked on the slick curve of the strap, your thighs, your breathless smirk.

They were fucked out. Drenched in sweat. But their eyes still followed you like you were the sun itself.

You licked your lips, stretched lazily, and let your fingers trail down your own stomach. Then you smirked.

“My turn,” you said.

Two words. That’s all it took.

Yunho blinked, slowly sitting up with a dazed grin, still flushed and unsteady on his knees. Mingi was already crawling toward you like the obedient, aching mess he was, pupils blown wide.

You sat back on the pillows, legs spread slightly, the harness still in place, glistening. You didn’t move. Didn’t have to.

“What do you want, baby?” Yunho asked, voice hoarse, eager.

“I want to watch you,” you replied. “Both of you. Right here. Right now. Show me how good you can be, for me.”

Their eyes darkened at the same time.

Mingi moved first, of course he did, leaning over to kiss your thigh, then trailing kisses up to your navel, his hands spreading your legs wider. Yunho knelt between your thighs too, eyes never leaving your face as his lips followed the other side, hot breath teasing your skin.

You let your head fall back, watching them both through hooded eyes as they worshipped you together.

Kisses. Tongues. Fingers tracing patterns over your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” Mingi whispered, nuzzling into your hip.

“She deserves everything,” Yunho added, kissing your inner thigh.

They didn’t rush.

Mingi’s tongue dipped lower, Yunho followed his lead, and then it was both of them—sharing, switching, tasting, teasing, moaning between your legs like they were getting off just from the taste of you. Mingi’s fingers digging into your thighs while Yunho pressed kisses to your clit after they removed the strap, murmuring your name like a mantra.

You tangled your fingers in their hair, tugging tight when it got too good, when the pressure hit just right.

Mingi’s tongue was buried deep inside you now, Yunho’s lips sealed around your clit, and you were right on the edge, ready to fall apart all over their pretty faces. Until you grabbed a fistful of each man’s hair and pulled.

“Stop.”

They both froze.

Yunho looked up at you, breathless and confused, lips glossy. “Did we… did we do something wrong?”

Mingi blinked, still hovering between your thighs. “Do you not want…”

You gave them both a crooked smile, licking your lips, voice like honey and sin.

“That’s not what I meant when I said it was my turn.”

Mingi sat back slowly. “Then… what did you mean?”

You stood, body still flushed and glowing with sweat and circled them like a wolf stalking prey. You leaned in close behind Yunho, whispering low against his neck.

“I want to watch you…” Then your eyes flicked to Mingi, and your voice turned to a purr. “Both of you. Together.”

Silence.

Yunho turned his head, just slightly. “You mean…”

Mingi’s breath caught. “You want me to fuck him?”

You gave a single nod, slow and deliberate. “Or him to fuck you. I don’t care who’s on top. I just want to watch both of you fall apart in front of me.”

The air shifted.

Yunho’s gaze dropped to Mingi, something unspoken passing between them, surprise, hesitation, maybe even curiosity… but not denial.

“You’ve thought about it,” you said quietly, getting back on the bed, backing toward the headboard, reclining like a queen before her performance. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve both thought about it.”

Yunho swallowed. Mingi’s lips parted.

And then Yunho gave a breathless laugh, soft, disbelieving, and turned to Mingi. “She’s right.”

Mingi blinked. “She usually is.”

You smirked. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Yunho kissed Mingi first. Hesitant at first, almost shy, but it didn’t stay that way. Mingi grabbed Yunho by the neck and pulled him closer, mouths crashing together in a mess of teeth and tongue and groaning breath.

They forgot you were even there for a second, and that was exactly what you wanted.

You moved your hand down, slowly circling your clit as they kissed harder, deeper, bodies sliding together.

“Get on your back,” Yunho finally growled to Mingi.

Mingi obeyed without a word, dick already hard and leaking, lips swollen from kissing. Yunho crawled between his legs, pausing to look back at you, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen.

“You still watching?”

You smiled like the wicked little demon you were. “Every second.”

Yunho leaned down, licking a long stripe up Mingi’s dick before taking it in his mouth.

Mingi shouted, loud and raw and broken.

“Fuck, Yunho… what the fuck”

Yunho sucked him deep, hands pressing into Mingi’s thighs to keep him still, humming low in his throat while Mingi writhed beneath him. Your fingers were rubbing at your clit faster, your free hand gripping the sheets, breath catching with every obscene, wet sound that filled the room.

You watched Yunho devour his best friend, watched Mingi fall apart in real time, grabbing Yunho’s hair, hips twitching.

“Switch,” you commanded suddenly, breathless. “I want Mingi on top. I want him to fuck you.”

They froze.

Yunho lifted his head, lips still glossy. “You serious?”

You raised a brow. “I’ve never been more serious.”

Yunho turned to Mingi, exhaling hard. “You okay with that?”

Mingi nodded, something electric in his eyes. “Only if she keeps watching.”

You leaned back with a grin. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll tell you what to do next.”

Yunho’s lips were still slick from sucking Mingi’s dick, his jaw tight with anticipation as you leaned back, breathless and glowing from everything you’d just done to them both.

Mingi’s eyes snapped to the movement of your fingers rubbing at your clit. “You’re not joining?”

You smirked. “I am. Just… like this.”

Your fingers slid through your folds, slow and teasing, circling your clit as you sank back against the headboard, watching them like a goddamn goddess in the clouds. “I want to watch you fuck each other. I want to see what I do to you both.”

Yunho let out a breath that was more of a groan. Mingi glanced down at him, then back to you, something in his chest rising like he was ready to worship you through Yunho’s body.

And he was.

“On your back,” Mingi said, voice lower now, more commanding. “You heard her.”

Yunho’s eyes flicked to yours, wide and blown. “You sure?”

You gave a soft, dangerous smile as your fingers moved faster over your clit. “Be a good boy, Yunho. Let him make you feel as good as you made me.”

Yunho nodded once. Then slowly laid back, chest rising with each shaky breath, arms spread slightly above his head like he was giving himself up.

Mingi crawled over him, leaning down to kiss him again, deeper this time. There was no hesitation now. Just hunger.

You bit your lip, watching them devour each other’s mouths as your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance. You were soaked, aching, and every sound, every groan and gasp from their lips made you wetter.

“Use him, Mingi,” you whispered through a moan. “Fuck him like you mean it.”

Mingi reached over for the lube, his hands shaking just slightly as he prepped Yunho, slow fingers, soft kisses, muttered praises you barely heard over the pounding in your ears.

Then he was lined up. Holding Yunho’s legs open. Looking over at you.

“Keep touching yourself,” Mingi said, his voice thick with desire. “Don’t stop.”

You moaned as he pushed in slow, careful, watching Yunho’s eyes roll back and his jaw drop open in a silent cry.

“Fuck… he’s so tight”

Yunho’s back arched. “Holy shit don’t stop… don’t fucking stop”

You were a mess already, fingers stroking furiously as you watched Mingi thrust into him, each snap of his hips rougher, deeper. Yunho took it, moaning loudly, nails dragging down Mingi’s back, head thrown back on the pillows.

They were all sound and sweat and raw movement, your boys, your masterpiece, and you were falling apart to the symphony of their moans.

“Look at her,” Yunho gasped, barely able to get the words out. “She’s fucking herself to this… fuck, I’m gonna come”

“Don’t,” Mingi growled, teeth against Yunho’s throat. “Not yet.”

You were breathless. Wrecked. “Come for me. Both of you. At the same time. I want to see it.”

Mingi’s hand reached down to stroke Yunho’s dick in time with his thrusts, and the moment you said the words, your voice trembling through your orgasm, they both broke.

Yunho came with a shout, body convulsing, and Mingi followed with a grunt, hips jerking deep, burying himself to the hilt as he collapsed onto Yunho’s chest.

You lay there panting, your hand still twitching between your thighs, your thighs soaked, lips parted in awe as they lay tangled together in the aftermath.

Then Mingi looked up at you.

“So,” he breathed, voice rough, “do we get a scorecard?”

Yunho chuckled, barely coherent. “I think we just passed with honors.”

You grinned lazily. “Don’t get cocky. There’s always extra credit.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho walked into the practice room first.

He looked… fine. Too fine. Like a man trying very hard not to limp, not to wince, not to glow. His sweats were low on his hips, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, and his hair was still damp from his morning shower.

Mingi followed two minutes later.

He looked…..

Let’s just say walking wasn’t his strong suit this morning. He wore a hoodie, but it was zipped halfway down, like he’d overheated just from making it to the elevator. There were faint bruises on his collarbone that weren’t there yesterday. And he hadn’t stopped smiling.

San spotted it first.

He was mid stretch, arms overhead, when he glanced between the two of them. His arms slowly dropped.

“Huh…”

Wooyoung followed his gaze. Then narrowed his eyes. “Nah. No way. They didn’t.”

Seonghwa, tying his shoelaces, didn’t even look up. “Oh, they absolutely did.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Did what?”

Jongho, ever the innocent, blinked. “What are you guys talking about?”

“They fucked,” Seonghwa said, cheerfully, standing upright. “Or, more likely, got fucked. Both of them.” He didn’t really need to specify who they got fucked by.

Yunho coughed.

Mingi turned red. “What the hell, Seonghwa?!”

Yunho looked like he wanted to melt through the floor. “It’s not… I mean….”

“Don’t even try,” Wooyoung cut in, stepping closer. “Y’all are literally vibrating. You think we don’t notice the eye contact? The weird spacing? The accidental brush of shoulders every five seconds?”

Mingi groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Can we not do this at dance practice?”

“Oh we’re definitely doing this at dance practice,” San said, grinning like a shark. “Because now I’m wondering, did you just hook up? Or was it a whole…thing?”

Yeosang, who hadn’t said a word until now, finally piped up with surgical precision. “She was there, wasn’t she.”

Silence.

Yunho looked away. Mingi bit his lip.

San’s jaw dropped. Wooyoung howled.

“Oh my GOD, it was a threesome! You guys had a threesome with Y/N?!”

Yunho groaned. Mingi muttered, “I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I.”

“No,” Seonghwa said immediately. “Absolutely not. I demand full details over dinner.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we please stretch first before we emotionally interrogate the group sex energy in the room?”

“Oh don’t act like you’re above it,” Wooyoung teased. “You’re literally smirking.”

“I’m always smirking.”

Jongho just looked around, wide eyed. “Wait. Wait. They both slept with her? Together? That’s a thing now?!”

Yunho finally stood up straight and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look… it wasn’t planned.”

Mingi snorted. “Yeah, says the one who told her to fuck me.”

Now the room exploded.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

[lazysoulwriter]

I already had the book. - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x reader, slow burn fluff, bookstore romance, soft obsession, mutual pining, bookworm energy, silly excuses, months-long buildup, eventual confession, cozy domestic ending.

—

You noticed him the second he walked in.

Not because he was Pedro Pascal — though, yes, that too — but because he looked just slightly lost. That quiet, wandering kind of lost, like someone who wanted to be found but wouldn’t say it out loud.

You kept shelving. He wandered closer. Pretended to inspect a table of fiction paperbacks, eyes flicking up to you every few seconds.

“Can I help you find something?” you asked, smile soft.

He cleared his throat, voice lower in real life than you expected. “Uh. Yeah. Actually. I was hoping you could recommend something.”

You stepped down from the stool and crossed toward him, brushing your hands on your skirt out of nervous habit. “What do you usually like?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ll read anything if it comes with a good pitch.”

So you gave him one — a novel you loved, the kind that stuck to your ribs. You explained the plot in a few sentences, then trailed off with, “It’s weird, but it’s warm. And I don’t know, it feels like a late-night conversation with someone you trust.”

He blinked. Smiled. “You’re good at that.”

“At what?”

“Making a book sound like a person I want to know.”

You looked away, heat blooming in your cheeks. “I’ll ring it up for you.”

What you didn’t know: he already owned a copy. First edition. Dog-eared. Highlighted.

But he bought it again anyway, just so he had a reason to come back.

The next week, he was back.

“I finished it.”

You looked up from the register, blinking in surprise. “Already?”

“I’m a fast reader. Plus, you made it sound like falling in love.”

You swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

“Loved it. Got anything else that’ll wreck my heart a little?”

You stared at him, unable to keep from smiling. “You’re really asking for that?”

“From you? Always.”

—

It became a routine.

Every week, he came in. Asked for a recommendation. Bought it without hesitation. Sometimes lingered by the counter a little longer than necessary, asking you questions about the author, your thoughts, if you’d ever write one yourself.

You started looking forward to his visits. Dressing a little differently on Tuesdays. Wearing the perfume you liked. Recommending your favorites — not just what sold well.

He never said anything… but you caught the way his eyes lingered when you laughed. How he always leaned in to listen, like your voice was a secret.

—

Six weeks in, he finally asked.

“So… if I asked for a recommendation that wasn’t a book… like, a good restaurant for a date… would you go with me?”

You blinked.

“I mean. With me,” he added quickly, already flustered. “Not just give a rec. I—I’d like to take you out. If you want that.”

You tried not to smile too wide. “I’d love that.”

—

Three months later.

You were curled on his couch, a blanket tucked over your knees, reading something he swore you’d love. He returned from the kitchen with tea, then sat down beside you — eyes crinkled, a little too proud of himself.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He set down the tea, leaned into you, and whispered: “I already had half those books.”

You looked up. “What?”

“First one you gave me? Already owned it. The second one? Read it twice. I just—”

“You what?”

“I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”

You stared at him.

“Pedro…”

“I know, I know, pathetic—”

“No,” you said, setting your book aside and crawling into his lap, “romantic.”

He kissed you slow. Like he had all the time in the world now.

And he did.

Later, he picked up the first book you ever recommended and smiled at the cover like an old friend.

“You made this one better.”

—

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

—

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli

[irisintheafterglow]

bllk vs u-20 game spoilers.

there's a pit in your stomach as you wait with the rest of the blue lock 11's family members in one of the stadium's many concrete passageways. the group around you is humming with anticipation, but all you can do is hug your arms close to your torso and try to remember to breathe, even if it's shaky. anri had reached out to close family and friends of the players as soon as the game against the u-20 team was confirmed, and you were among the few who received comp tickets (probably in exchange for giving up your boyfriend for several months).

no one would think you and rin were together, and you knew damn well that he wasn't going to be sharing his relationship status with anyone he interacted with in the program; it took a whole year for him to open up to you about his history with sae. those on the outside must've thought he was blackmailing you to stay together, but only you two knew that you were his closest confidant, his steadiest rock, and the one who stayed even when soccer took the place of any form of sustenance.

a door opens around the corner.

here they come.

the first person to bound forward and leap into the crowd is the monster dribbler, bachira. he all but tackles a woman in a long coat that you recognized as sitting a few rows in front of you. next comes the redhead runner who was subbed out in the first part of the second half--chigiri. he's immediately enveloped in a swath of two matching, vibrantly scarlet heads of hair, cooing about how he was all grown up and how they were so proud. soon, the rest of the players--otoya with the green stripe in his hair, karasu with a casually disarming grin, nagi and reo moving as one unit--greet their families and friends. the embraces make you nauseous, the joy in their smiles are pushing you toward a panic attack. where was he? the kick rin had taken to the face felt like your world stopped, but he recovered quick enough for spectators to think he was unharmed.

"e-excuse me?" you lightly tap the shoulder of the match's hero, isagi. he'd been the only one to see--no, predict--that rin would surpass sae, which gave him the opening to score the final goal. your face burns from shame as isagi and his parents turn to look at you kindly, while you're practically shrinking into one of rin's jerseys. "that last goal was a wonderful shot. great job," you offer. he beams when you praise him and nods enthusiastically.

"thanks! i'm really excited for the next---"

"i'm sorry," you cut in sheepishly, and he pauses, tilting his head to the side curiously. his eyes flick down to the silver 'R' dangling by a chain on your neck. "do you know where, um, where rin is?" you say, and an odd look crosses isagi's face.

"yeah, he was..." isagi hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "he's not really in the best mood, even though we just won. he's kind of brooding, if you can call it that. i don't know if anyone should be talking to him."

"i know that," you reply, bristling a little impatiently. you know better than anyone the mental state he was in right now, which was why you needed to be there for him. "sorry...i just don't want him to be alone right now." isagi blinks once, then twice, before turning back to his parents, who were watching the exchange with a strange amount of sympathy.

"i'll be back," he tells them. "i'm gonna go grab rin from the locker room. i'll say someone's here for him."

"he's gonna refuse initially," you warn isagi before he leaves. your fingers brush the solitary letter hanging on your skin. "if he's stubborn about it, tell him the penguin charm fell off my necklace."

"inside joke?"

"inside joke," you clarify with a sad smile. isagi nods dutifully.

"got it."

a few minutes later, most of the players and their families had filed out of the hallway toward the meeting room, where the stadium was serving an assortment of dinner entrees. they could catch up, share stories, and have this one night of relaxation before the next phase of the project began. word had somehow spread around that you were rin's partner; bachira and hiori were almost begging to hear the stories you had about him as they tried to drag you to dinner. you politely told them you'd be up in a bit, and they settle for escorting isagi's parents instead. then, you're alone in the hallway until isagi returns with your boyfriend in tow.

"i'll be over here if you guys need anything," he says lowly to you as he passes, positioning himself a respectful distance away while your attention finally turns completely to rin.

he stands two steps away, hands shoved in the pockets of his joggers. he won't look at you.

"hi," you breathe, willing his eyes to meet yours. "rin?" no answer, only another step toward you, but not close enough to touch. he was, at this moment, completely unreadable to you; you couldn't tell what he needed, and you weren't sure if he knew, either. "please look at me." he takes a slow inhale through his nose and exhales unevenly through his mouth. your shirt catches his eye and he looks anywhere but your face.

"that's mine."

"mhmm, i've been waiting to wear it since you left," you tell him gently.

"looks good. on you." he's exhausted--mind, body, and soul. you coax his walls to come down bit by bit, even when every second you're not touching him feels like torture. you reach out to brush a strand of hair from his eyes, but he catches your wrist before you make contact, and you flinch.

maybe you misjudged what he needed. maybe he was going to push you away, too. maybe he was past a point you couldn't follow, somewhere he didn't need you anymore.

his eyes finally meet yours and say all you need to hear.

i'd never.

he holds your wrist there before slowly guiding your fingers to cup his face, leaning into you with a sigh. as soon as your skin is against his, it's like his body wakes itself up via lightning strike. in one breath, he's grabbing your hips and pulling you as close as humanly possible. your arms snake around his neck while his head falls forward onto your shoulder. his embrace is tight, but somehow you're not close enough to him.

"shit," rin croaks into your neck. you can feel the grief shrouded underneath his wrath, a boiling pot of emotions reserved for only his older brother. it didn't matter that blue lock was victorious; in this fight between the itoshi brothers, sae was still the superior sibling (at least, in the world's eyes). you can't think of any words to comfort him, so you settle for running your hand up and down his back. "damn him. damn it all."

"i know, baby, i know," you murmur. "but you did so well."

"it wasn't enough," he seethes, and his voice breaks. you press a kiss into his hair. this was how you and rin functioned--nothing like flashy dates or extra displays of affection, just an understanding of the other's feelings. "it's never fucking enough." his grip on your waist temporarily tightens, frustration seeping into his tired muscles. dull pain blooms under the tips of his fingers.

"rin," is all you need to say before his touch loosens, smoothing over the area and searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

"shit. did i hurt you?"

"i'm okay, i promise," you reassure him. your thumb rubs the space between rin's eyebrows, tense from all his frowning. "you're gonna get wrinkles here if you keep living like this, my love."

"there's no other way for me to live," he replies.

"i know. but you'll let me stick through it with you?" instead of answering, he zeroes in on the chain around your neck, the dip between his eyebrows pinching even more.

"the penguin fell off," he deadpans. he says it in such a serious manner that you have to stifle a small giggle.

"that it did."

"i'll have to get you a new one then," he concludes, and the ache in your heart finally starts to ease as his hand slips into yours. "let's eat?"

"eating sounds good," you confirm. hand in hand, you walk toward the elevator and have to stop yourself from smirking when rin's signature scowl is immediately targeting isagi.

"what the hell are you doing here? stupid lukewarm isagi," he grumbles. isagi gives you a pitying look and shrugs.

"yeah, yeah. you're welcome for helping out your partner, idiot," isagi fires back without missing a beat. "seriously, how do you tolerate him?" his finger jabs the 'up' arrow, and you wait awkwardly with your boyfriend and your boyfriend's career rival.

"i'm not sure," you admit. "i just do?"

"you can do a lot better," isagi comments nonchalantly and rin stiffens. "you're too nice to be with a downer like him." rin's entire aura shifts to blood lust, but you're unbothered and surprise them both by laughing, squeezing rin's hand once.

"i've heard all that before, isagi," you explain. the elevator dings and the doors slide open. "the thing is, i love him too much to be with anyone else." before he can join you and rin in the elevator, your boyfriend's arm shoots out to prevent him from entering.

"really, dude?" isagi whines. "we just played against the u-20 team. i need food!"

"not my problem, half-baked," rin replies dryly. "wait for the next one." his other hand briefly leaves yours to slam on the 'close doors' button, and the two glare at each other until the metal panels shut between them. you have no time to question why rin despised isagi so much because before you could blink, he's walking you backward until your back is against the elevator railing and kissing you so fervently, you'd think he was starving. his hands slip back over your waist while your fingers thread through his hair, still damp with sweat.

"this is what you were waiting for, then?" you ask, breathless in between his mouth on yours. "didn't wanna kiss me with isagi around?" he catches the teasing in your voice and bites your bottom lip in retaliation.

"i have to take out my anger somehow, sweetheart."

take this bc i just caught up on the anime and i need to give rin a hug

[sonneillonv]

Okay, but relevantly, we have a LOT more pricklies in our scrub than most places. Like, the thing about Arizona is about 70% of the plants have some kind of painful defense mechanism, whether that's thorns or sharp ridges or capsaicin. We also don't have grass - that's what the gravel is replacing.

So if OP had been dragged in circles in another biome, say perhaps, central California or the Great Plains or the Midwest or fuck, even the not-west-South, OP probably would not have been hurt NEARLY as badly because they would have been dragged over grass. Regular grass. With regular-grass chafing.

Do you know WHY the plant cover in Arizona is called scrub?

Because when white settlers arrived, they saw absolutely no use for any of it except scrubbing burnt food off the bottoms of pots and pans. Collectively, it's steel-wool abrasive. So yeah, that'll fuck up your skin if you're dragged through it. And it's entirely possible those kids, being kids (and therefore not prone to thinking ahead about consequences), legitimately underestimated how badly OP would be hurt.

Like, it's easy to attribute malice, but I work with elementary schoolers every day and boooooooooooooy let me tell you, even the fifth graders struggle to think thirty seconds ahead of what they're doing. I had to rescue half a dozen kids from ants this year because they decided to stomp down red anthills and forgot they were wearing sandals. I keep packing tape with my first aid kit because these kids will roll and tumble in the scrub and then be like "OOPS this isn't grass now I'm bleeding and covered in stickers" and picking them off one by one takes a year and a half (and involves an uncomfortable amount of butt-touching) so it's better to do it in wide swaths with tape. We had three girls who decided to bully a new male student relentlessly - I and several other teachers REPEATEDLY warned them to cut it out, punished them for it, etc. Did they stop? Not until he picked up a rock and threw it at one of them and hit her. And when she came crying to me, and I asked her what on earth she THOUGHT the eventual result of her bullying would be, do you think she had any idea? Of course not. She was chewing on him like an enrichment toy in her enclosure and it never occurred to her that there would be consequences she might care about.

So yeah, I 100% believe those kids did something horrific with no real understanding of how horrific it would be, or what the consequences might be. Standard pre-teen, absolutely true to spec.

holy hell are people just crueler in arizona????

how would the idea to drag a 2nd grader around on gravel until his back is destroyed even occur to a person????

glad you have your sister to back you up. as a certified big sister (the certificate being the shirt i got saying "awesome big sister" after the birth of my second baby sister), this is what must be done for siblings. you can't fuck with them, that's our job. if there were a nobel prize for big-sistering, i think she should win, but alas, there isn't.

my dad grew up in phoenix/scottsdale and was also bullied in school. once when he was a teen he was walking home and some random boys sprayed mace in his face for no reason and drove off (they were later busted for illegal possession of a weapon, as there was a gun in their backseat). is there something in the water there?

Ehhhhhhh. I've talked to some people about events like this in my childhood, and gotten a lot of responses along the lines of "What Bastard Ass Corner of Hell Did You Crawl Out Of," so here's my multitheory of Arizona Weirdness.

The Summers: Arizona doesn't do daylight savings because it has no desire to save any daylight. Whenever people aren't looking, it tries to discreetly pick pieces of sunlight off its plate to feed to the dog. There was a humiliating incident a few years ago where it thought nobody was looking and tried to throw a large piece of sunlight out an open window into the backyard, but the window was not open, it was merely very clean, so it SMACKED into the glass and slid down and fell on the kitchen floor while everyone watched. This incident is still spoken of in hushed winters in PNW dinner parties. The summers of Arizona make everyone a little manic. Fortunately, God realized this was going to be a huge problem, so He had for the foresight to limit summers to only approximately 6 months of the year. Adding fuel to the fire is that the mania is accompanied by an outside temperature above 110 F (43 C) so you either stay inside and get this very intense kind of cabin fever (like watching TV static on Adderall) or you go outside where you are both energetic and in extreme physical discomfort. Most of the people that are outside have actually tried their best to stay inside, it's just that the Cabin Fever finally succeeded in overriding their pain receptors, so they are basically the equivalent of mindless rage zombies unless they are actually inside of a pool at that very moment. This is why everyone in Arizona owns pools.

The Mormons: The Mormons are extremely resistant to cultural changes. This is because they pick their prophets from a group of 13 old men who are literally competing to see who lives the longest. The oldest gets to be in charge. If this sounds like a bad plan consider that any time one of them dies, everyone goes, ah, well, he probably wouldn't have made a good prophet then. You know. Because God killed him and all. I have always considered this hilarious in how brutal it is. Anyway, the Mormons consistently linger ~20 years behind the standard culture. So growing up in 1980's Mormonworld was, socially, very similar to growing up in 1960's Americana. Except I was in elementary school in the early 2000's, which meant that my social environment was probably most comparable to the 1980s, which television has led me to believe was the era that bullies were required to take mandatory Kung-Fu Dirtbiking courses.

The Water: If there was something in the water, we would still have to drink it.

The Water II: Maybe there's something in everyones water, but it only starts making you into an asshole when you drink a gallon and a half of it a day. Worth considering.

Dumbass Cowboys: Arizona reaaaaaally like its Wild West Heritage. Which in practice means that they are, culturally, very pro-violence. They're an open carry, stand your ground, castle law state, and they have been my entire life. This actually added quite a bit to my elementary school bitterness. It is extremely bizarre to be told, as a child, that you aren't even allowed to swear at people for hitting you while your parents would be allowed to keep shooting until they ran out of bullets. At which point they could call their complimentary NRA lawyer. I have a vague memory of my 3rd grade teacher saying that kids would be much nicer to each other if they were allowed to come to school armed, but alas, Columbine ruined that for everyone. She was actually a very nice lady when she wasn't arguing that children should be allowed to, occasionally, shoot each other. I think she was in her 60's then. Might still be alive.

[matchingbatbites]

Explicit | 2k words | First time blowjob + Getting together

Found this in my drafts and finished it off. I know this is inspired by a post but I cannot find it.

"Can I blow you?"

Eddie freezes where he's unpacking his bag at the Harrington dining table, the first to arrive for tonight's D&D session. He blinks before turning to look at Steve, who is leaning casually in the doorway like he hadn't just offered Eddie the chance to live out one of his frequent fantasies.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that? I think my ears stopped working for a second there."

Steve rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, his hip popping out in that bitchy way that makes Eddie want to bite him. "Can I blow you?" he asks again, this time with more emphasis, and yeah, Eddie heard him right the first time.

Eddie says "What's with the sudden interest, Stevie?" which he thinks is a valid question, considering the fact that Steve has never shown any inclination towards any dick, let alone Eddie's. He'd gotten confirmation of such when he came out to Steve a couple months ago and received a prompt "Oh cool. You can talk to me about boys if you want, but I don't know how much help I'll be."

The Steve in front of him exhales sharply, clearly holding back a bitchier response as he replies "Do you want a blowjob or not, man?"

It only takes Eddie half a second to answer yes, because even if this is some fever dream, there's no way he's going to turn down the man he's been crushing on. All the more reason to agree, honestly.

"Here?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

"Upstairs, in case one of the kids shows up early."

Right, of course.

Eddie follows Steve up to his room, where the other boy shuts and locks the door behind them before he's pushing Eddie up against the solid surface.

There's no build up, no easing into it; no needy kisses or teasing touches like Eddie would expect from Steve Harrington. Steve just drops to his knees and starts on Eddie's belt, and all Eddie can do is watch as the hottest guy he knows pulls down his pants and boxers just enough to expose him.

Steve's eyebrows shoot up and his face flushes pink as he takes in Eddie's dick for the first time. Eddie's too distracted by how pretty Steve is to ask if he likes what he sees, and Steve doesn't say anything as he wraps his hand around the shaft, seeming to get a feel for it. Eddie is only about half-chubbed, but begins to rapidly approach rock hard as Steve swipes his thumb over the piercing that sits below the head.

"Did that hurt?" Steve asks, voice thick with something, and Eddie shrugs.

"Yeah. Made jacking off pretty tough for a while."

Steve hums in response and finally gives it a proper stroke, and Eddie groans low, even though it's a bit drier than he'd like. The other boy must realize the same thing, because he pulls his hand back and - fuck - spits in it before he's grabbing Eddie's dick and trying again.

It's much better, and Eddie hums encouragingly as Steve jerks him off, his eyes focused on the head that's getting redder and redder as Eddie's dick hardens. Eddie bites his lip as he watches Steve focus on his task, as he speeds up and slows down, trying a few things out.

Eventually Steve leans in and licks over the tip, pulling another groan from Eddie, and it's like Steve suddenly remembers that the dick in his hand is actually attached to a person. He looks up at Eddie, his gaze swirling with wonder and desire as he takes the head into his mouth and sucks.

"Fuuuuck, Stevie," Eddie groans, unable to keep his mouth shut at the sight before him. "Look like a fuckin' dream on your knees for me, baby."

Steve shudders at the praise and pulls back to mouth at the piercing, and Eddie desperately needs to know if Steve has done this before, because if not then he's a fucking natural. He clocks every one of Eddie's reactions and abuses the knowledge, tongue flicking the piercing or lips suckling on the tip. It's not long before he takes more into his mouth, sinking down onto Eddie's cock as far as he can before pulling back with a wet noise.

He quickly finds his rhythm, bobbing on Eddie's dick like he's done it a hundred times, and Eddie gives up on trying to be cool about this whole thing. He pushes his hands into Steve's hair and pulls him closer, forcing more of his dick into Steve's mouth.

"Tap my leg if you need to stop," Eddie says as he gives a shallow thrust into that wet heat. Steve just moans, eyes fluttering as he lets Eddie guide him, his hands grabbing Eddie's jeans and holding on as Eddie fucks into his mouth.

Eddie tries to be careful; he doesn't want to hurt Steve, but the boy is just so beautiful with tears welling up in his eyes and a pink blush staining his skin. He snaps his hips, pushing the head of his dick into Steve's throat just enough to hear him choke, and Steve winces at the intrusion but doesn't tap out.

Eddie croons a soft "That's it, baby. Such a good boy, taking my dick so well," and Steve's reaction is even stronger than before, the way he melts into the encouragement even more obvious. It makes Eddie want to shower Steve in praise, to smother him with it, so he never doubts how perfect he is.

"Look at me, Stevie," he commands, and when Steve's eyes lift to meet Eddie's - glossy with unshed tears and a bit unfocused - it's enough to push Eddie right to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-"

Eddie yanks Steve off and strips his dick in quick strokes until he's coming, shooting his spend over Steve's beautiful, dazed face. He takes just a second to catch his breath before he drops to the floor and kisses Steve hard, smearing his cum between their lips. Steve whines into it as he kisses back, and Eddie blindly reaches down, searching for the hard line of Steve's dick in his pants.

Instead, his hand meets a damp spot, and Eddie breaks the kiss so he can look down to confirm his suspicion.

"Holy shit, Steve. Did you come in your pants just from sucking me off?"

"I'm, uh- just as surprised as you are," Steve says, his voice a little scratchier than it was before. "I wasn't expecting to enjoy that as much as I did."

Fuck. Eddie forgot about this part. The part where Steve admits that he just wanted to see what it was like and figured Eddie was the perfect candidate for his little experiment. Eddie doesn't mind, really, not when this whole scenario has been kind of a dream come true, but that doesn't mean it's going to hurt any less.

They're interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by a rapid knocking on the door. "Steve! You in here? Eddie's stuff is here but we can't find him!"

Fucking Dustin.

"Yeah, me and Steve are here!" Eddie replies. "We're talking about something, I'll be down in a sec!"

Dustin gives a "Hurry up, man!" through the door, and Eddie shakes his head as he listens to him walk away. He stands and helps Steve move from the floor to the nearby desk chair.

"I'll, uh. Go grab you a towel," he says, and Steve nods.

Eddie quickly fixes his pants before heading to the bathroom across the hall. He splashes some water on his face to help get rid of the flush, then wets a washcloth while keeping an ear out for any wandering children. The coast seems to keep clear as he goes back, and a shiver runs down his spine at the sight of Steve, who had slipped off his bottoms while Eddie was gone.

Fuck, Eddie would love to get his mouth on that cock.

He passes Steve the cloth and just stands there as he wipes off his face, then his dick, unable to look away.

"So, uh. Where did that come from?" Eddie can't help but ask, his curiosity winning out over his self-preservation. Steve looks up at him and blushes, even the tips of his ears going pink.

"Um. Dustin was ranting to me last week, talking about how you're always so strict with everyone during your games, and he thought— Well, he thought if you got laid you might go easier on them."

Eddie blinks, absorbing the information for a moment. "Did he… ask you? To do this?"

Steve shakes his head and moves to the dresser to grab a clean pair of sweatpants.

"No, that was— that was all me. It just popped into my head, like Hey, I could do that, and it just wouldn't go away. I thought I could at least ask, and if you said no, then it wouldn't be a big deal."

So, it's exactly what Eddie thought. "Right. Yeah. You were just— trying it out with someone you know, got it." Eddie turns and pushes his hands into his hair, tugging on it a bit. Stupid pretty boys and their stupid eyes, making Eddie feel things when all he is is a placeholder, an experiment.

Steve makes a soft noise and grabs Eddie by the arm. Eddie relents as Steve turns him back around so he can look at him. "Eddie, that wasn't— Yeah, okay. I didn't really like, think about it before Dustin brought it up. But I know I like being around you, and I know I liked that, so maybe— If you like me, maybe you'd be willing to give me a shot?"

He looks so earnest, so hopeful, those hazel eyes wide and wanting. There's no world in which Eddie would even want to turn him down. Instead he takes Steve's hand and rubs his thumb over Steve's knuckles. "If I liked that, he says. Like it wasn't a fucking dream come true."

Steve breaks into a beaming smile and steps closer. "Oh yeah? Dream about that often?" he asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes a little even as he sways into Steve's space.

Cocky motherfucker.

"Do I dream about the hottest guy I've ever seen giving me a blowjob like he was made for it? Yeah, might have happened once or twice, baby."

Steve huffs and closes the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a chaste, achingly sweet kiss. Eddie hums into it and moves his free hand to Steve's hip, his fingers just slipping under the hem of his shirt. S

Before they can do anything more, a banging comes from the door behind them, along with an annoyed "Can you two hurry up?! We need to get started if we want to finish on time!"

Eddie makes a mental note to kill Dustin's character tonight as he turns, still holding on to Steve. "Have some fucking patience, Henderson! Go back downstairs before I make you roll with disadvantage all night!"

Dustin squawks a "What?! That's not fair!" and Eddie just rolls his eyes while Steve presses his face to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter.

"Now, Dustin!"

Dustin grumbles but stomps off, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's waist. "Something funny, Stevie?"

Steve shakes his head. "I just think it's funny that this whole thing happened because Dustin thought you were being too hard on them, but it's looking like you'll be even worse now."

"Oh yeah," Eddie says with a grin. He gives Steve another quick kiss and says "I'm gonna be a monster now, because instead of being up here kissing you, I have to go listen to them argue for hours."

"You love them," Steve counters, and yeah, Eddie does. "You better go before they decide to break the door down."

Eddie nods and reluctantly pulls away. "We, uh. We can talk more about this later, but for now— Boyfriends? Maybe?"

Steve beams and nods. "Yeah. Boyfriends. Now go have fun."

[returnofeternity]

pervy rhiannon who is obsessed with her coworker... totally will (and has!) killed for you and you may or may not have noticed a jacket of yours go missing from your desk (and she may or may not have stolen it to jerk off)

ur the only one who actually noticed her, both before and after she started killing <3 you'd always offer to go with her to get norman and the others coffee, and you always took the blame when you guys would inevitably end up late because of your chats. they liked picking on rhiannon and blaming her for things. it was the only time she was useful and noticed. but you'd always let her know that it was never her fault and that they're just scared of her awesome journalism skills that should be put into use.

so it was kind of hard for her not to become obsessed.

she starts watching you all the time at work. looking at you while she types this boring email, looking at you when she answers boring calls, always getting up and following you to the break room even if she just got up a few minutes ago and grabbed herself some coffee. i think she'd want to kill for you, so she tries to get you to spill about drama in your life and not so subtly asks about anyoneee in particular that you wouldn't be so sad over if they happened to get some karma.

she's so obsessed with these kills that she does for you that they start to feel like offerings. like she's a cat bringing you a dead mouse because it loves you. only she doesn't bring you their chopped-off limbs. sometimes it's their clothing, but only because you guys are reporting on the case. sometimes it's gifting you their jewelry she took off their body because you'd look 10x better in that gold necklace than that cocksucker who spilled their drink all over you at this club she took you to.

she watches you outside of work too. usually in her car because it's easier to touch herself while peeping at you through the cafe window!! though, she has stalked you in public with a vibrator inside of her. when you're out to eat, either alone or w friends, she likes to hurry and collect your drink, napkin, or even half-eaten food from the table before any waiters can clean it off. she has almost a pile of your old napkins sitting in her glove compartment.

the second she watches you leave the office, forgotten jacket still on your chair, she leaps at the chance to take it home with her. she quickly stuffs it in her satchel in case you come back for it, and sits down in your chair, running her fingers along the armrests and closing her eyes, inhaling the air and getting a whiff of your musk. rhiannon quickly packs her things up and gets on the bus home, her panties already soaked as she sits down on the seat. she's so turned on she can't help but shove her hand in her satchel and feel up your jacket as she waits for her stop. she gets irrationally angry when other stops take longer because of ppl with stupid bikes and issues with their bus passes 😭 she uses ur jacket very well :p she jerks off with it on at first, then she bunches it up so she can hump it, then she puts on her strap and makes a hole with your jacket so she can fuck it, imagining it's you. she keeps it at her place until you ask for it, which thankfully, is only 2 days later so she got more time with it.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hello! Long time follower, first time...asker?

ANYWHO I Just ADORE your writing, the short blurbs, the tantalizing long tales, the romantic romps, UHG I JUST WANNA EAT THEM ALL IN A STEW!

That being said, what's your view on the brothers walking in on their partner pleasuring themselves? Is this something you've written before that I missed?

If so, let me know!! I'd love to read it!! ❤️

hi first time asker! i’m gnawing on ur words like they’re my last meal 🫀🫀 thank u thank u thank u. i read this and i was giggling like crazy. the idea of someone wanting to eat my fics in a stew is possibly the highest literary compliment i’ve ever received?? hehdudh thank u sm!!<33

nsfw (also sorry there’s more Ford than Stan in this one. the inspiration hit like a truck when writing his part + dragged me down a dom!Ford rabbit hole. but there's pathetic Ford too)

STAN

he’s been in and out of sleazy motels his whole life, and yet the moment he walks in on you with your hand between your thighs, he turns scarlet. not the cocky, grinning bastard you’re used to, not the sleazy charmer with some bad pickup line at the ready, HELL NO. the second he catches even a glimpse of you like that, all flushed and panting, he gasps like he’s been shot. shoulders hunched, Stan freezes in the doorway, repeating that pose from the lost legends comics, haha

he’s rambling immediately. “holy moly!!! jeez, you probably shoulda locked the door, kid! f—fuck, i didn’t mean to call you kid, i know you hate that!! sweet moses, im gonna shut up. should i leave? i should leave, right? unless you want. . .wait no I shouldn’t assume anything—“

he’s fidgeting with his clothes, half-turned like he wants to bolt, but he can’t take his eyes off you. and if you’re using a toy? some big gleaming thing buzzing while you whimper and squirm, he’s so fucking done. red-faced and flustered, yeah, but his pants are already getting tight and he’s well aware of it.

or god forbid you’re riding a pillow, grinding down all slow with a little glazed look in your eyes, Stan's going to melt. and if you so much as whimper his name in that breathy little voice, fuck no, he’s staying. no matter how much he tells himself to back off. he’ll stumble over, and ask if he can help, but it comes out all hoarse and reverent like, “let me, baby. let me, c’mon, please“ first minutes he acts like he doesn’t know what to do, but the second you let him touch, he's so greedy for every sound you make. if it's your fingers, he'll slip those out of you so he can put his mouth there instead

if you’re riding a pillow he’ll get so filthy with it, placing his hands on your hips, muttering “this how you get off when im not around? huh? you need it that bad, baby?” his voice all gravelly in your ear while he makes you hump it harder till you’re shaking

and if it’s a toy, he’ll snatch it right out and replace it with his fingers or his cock, muttering how it’s so much better when you take it from him<3 although he loves using toys on you but hey that's for later!

FORD

that six-fingered genius freak, who has absolutely jacked off behind your bedroom door more than once because he heard you saying his name.

he’s repressed and painfully intelligent, all things that make his perversions so much worse. he intellectualizes everything except the way his hand moves when he hears your whines. Ford tries to resist, he does, pacing in the hallway with his fists clenched, murmuring about how he should respect your privacy, about how it’s improper, about how he’s better than this, but the second he hears you let out a desperate little “oh Ford, wish it was you touching me. . .” that's it. he’s got his belt undone, fisting himself while listening, trying not to let the door creak when he presses his forehead against it. your name leaving his mouth so softly, scared to say it too loud.

okay listen. with Ford, i think there are two (three) reactions depending on the day and what level of ✨horny repression✨ he’s working with

scenario one where he walks in on you.

probably because he was too distracted with equations and notes to notice the quiet, intimate sounds echoing from the room, he calls your name, asking “have you seen my notes?” and nudges the door open like it’s nothing. then he freezes, pupils contracting, such a beautiful sight in front of him, his darling sprawled out, thighs apart, halfway gone already, moaning into the back of your hand. and he’s just. . .rooted to the spot, making these quiet stammering noises, flushed from the base of his throat to the tips of his ears. he croaks your name, and then immediately launches himself out of the room. you can hear him tripping over smth in the hallway. probably his own feet.

OR! this can also go this way, where Ford stays. and it’s worse. so much worse. and here its also divided into TWO parts.

one is, he opens the door, same things: he freezes, gasps, blah blah, such a dramatic boy. but he doesn’t leave. he can’t. he lifts on trembling hand to cover his eyes, like some victorian lady faced with ankles, but the other is still gripping the doorknob. “o-oh! i— apologies! i didn’t realize you were— were“ Ford groans, squeezing his eyes shut with his palm pressed tight, feeling like he’s on the verge of some cardiac event.

SO !!! MY ADVICE TO YOU BABY!! don’t stop. don't you dare stop!!! spread your thighs wider, continue moving your fingers, letting soft, wet sounds fill the room!!!

“Ford,” you arch your back, looking at him through half-closed eyes, “mhm, was hoping you’d walk in on me.” his knees buckle at that, Ford actually sways where he stands. “ive been thinking about you doing it. standing there. watching me. fucking yourself to the same rhythm.” your speech is diluted with small breaths when you insert your fingers too deeply, creating a wet squelching sound.

it's obvious he’s hard already, bulging against his belt.

with dom Ford it turns into scolding. “ . . .so this was intentional? you wanted me to see this? you planned this? you wanted to be caught like some needy little thing?” but even as he says it, his hand is already moving, undoing buttons, jerking his cock free with a hiss as if he’s just been burned, when the air touches his warm shaft. “go on, then, show me what you were doing,” he growls, looking straight into your eyes. to be honest, that tone even scares you a little. next thing you know he's kneeling on the bed, shoving your hand away to do it himself. slowly, while making you say everything you were thinking about.

second option. meanwhile, if we go back to awkward shy!Ford, who covers his face, stays planted in the doorway, and asks you “do you want me to stay?” like a lost puppy. when you nod, biting your lip, all excited and flushed, Ford lets out a shaky breath, quietly lowering his pants, knowing it’s wrong but he can’t stop.

so awkward and nervous but SO horny he can’t stand it. stands there trembling while unbuckling his belt and says “please, don’t stop, i want to watch you. . .touch yourself while i— while i do it too.” he jerks himself slow, matching your rhythm, whimpering every time your fingers dip deeper, wishing it was him filling you up.

and you two end up with this messy mutual masturbation session, mirroring each other, eyes locked the whole time, trying not to come too fast but totally failing.

he’s such a freak. he pretends he’s above it but he lives for this kind of filth

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

heh maybe for a chapter you could reverse the roles and make y/n the simp (although ik u've already thought of this I'm sure) a random suggestion tho, jakey gives her something that was dear to him when he was little (like a teddy bear maybe) and one day yn is like "would u ever want your bear back?" And jake is like "I think he's happier with you" KFOWNRHOWKANEHROWKEB (also for like more mood/tension ig, jake is away on some trip, yn misses him a lot, and they have a late night call (bonus points if yn is sleepy) idk just what jake says would mean more in my eyes but then again that is just my interpretation 😋)

— angy 💢 this is actually based of real events 😛 hehehehhehehehe

STOPPPP this is so cyot...also yes we definitely need to see more of yn being the simp over jake (bc who am i kidding, who wouldn't simp over our resident lover boy jakey) & TEA based off of real events...that's so adorable stfu rn. also this ended up being longer than i had anticipated because i always just get so invested in writing these lil slices of life of jakeyn 😭💔

──── HAPPIER WITH YOU 💫 🧸 💭 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

The first buzz wakes you up. 

The second buzz has you smiling before your eyes even open, already knowing who it is.

Your hands quickly find your phone, your eyes barely open as you swipe to answer the call you've been waiting for.

“Hey Jakey,”you mumble, voice scratchy with sleep, lips barely moving as you hold the phone close to your face. "So late."

“Hi pretty,” your boyfriend’s bright smile and messy hair fills your screen, lighting up your dark room like he’s the sun himself. 

There’s a pause as he studies your face through the camera, his soft gaze trailing over your sleep-flushed face, your cheek still half-mushed into your pillow.

Then there's a small chuckle from his end, low and fond.

“You were asleep, weren’t you?”

“No,” you lie. Very badly. Your eyes are already fluttering shut again. “Just…resting my eyes.”

Another small laugh on his end. He tilts his head like he's trying to get a better view of you.

“You always say that,” Jake teases gently. “Even when you’re fully drooling into your pillow mid-FaceTime. 

"Shut up," you let out a sleepy whine, “You were the one who called me.”

“I know,” he says, his voice dropping into something quieter now, like he’s syncing with your sleepiness. “I just missed you.”

You exhale softly, suddenly feeling warmth blooming deep in your chest.

"I'm not the one who had to go on a trip," you murmur as you tug the blanket higher, almost covering half your face, "...but I miss you too."

Jake sighs—one of those small, aching exhales that sounds like he regrets every choice that led him to be away from you, "I forgot how hard it is to be away from you like this."

Your heart skips a beat. Maybe two. Maybe all of them.

It's such a simple thing to say. So casual. But it knocks the breath out of you anyway.

Because this is him. Jake. Your Jake.

The one who gets quiet when he means something. The one who has slowly, steadily grown into your home—even when he's halfway across the continent.

The one who you know loves you so truly, so deeply.

And the one that you love. So truly. So deeply.

You shift slightly, your fingers instinctively curling around the soft, familiar material you weren't even away you had tucked against your chest—a teddy bear.

Jake's teddy bear.

The one you found in his room the first night you slept over. Game night with everyone had ended way too late, and Jake—half-asleep himself—had easily mumbled you should just sleep over.

And to what cost?

His dignity, apparently.

Because the second you walked into his room—

"Oh my god—" you crossed the room in three quick strides, immediately grabbing the small teddy bear perched on Jake's pile of pillows on his bed. "Don't tell me you have a childhood teddy bear."

Jake's eyes had widened. His ears turned pink.

"Hey!" He chased after you as you clutched onto the bear itself teasingly and away from him. "He's not—okay, yeah, fine, I do."

He finally takes it from your hands, "And his name is Snuffles. For your information. He helps me sleep. Or well, he used to."

You had giggled as you watched him endearingly fluff the bear like it was a national treasure, gently placing it back on his pillow.

"But now I have you," he said, almost too softly, as he turned back to look at you. "So. Problem solved."

And not too long after that, he brought Snuffles over to your place. And never took him back.

You never questioned it.

By then, he was practically moved into yours anyways—falling asleep in your bed more often than his own. Hoodies draped on your dining chairs, couch, kitchen island. His toothbrush had a permanent toothbrush holder on your bathroom counter. You made sure to always pick up his favorite shampoo at the store. And his favorite cereal.

And you loved it. All of it. How your space became his world without either of you needing to say it out loud. How his life bled into yours in tiny, unspoken way.

Especially on nights like these—when he was away, and you had a part of him to hold onto.

Something soft and real and silly and so, so Jake.

Something that reminded you just how much he trusts you. Just how much he loves you.

It brings a small smile to your face. A quiet little ache in your chest. Like being homesick for someone who's already yours.

You chew your lip for a second, then mumble quietly, "Hey Jake?"

"Mhm?"

"Do you think...you'd ever want your bear back?"

There's a pause.

Jake blinks at you, confused for a split second. But then—he smiles. Small, tender, with a softness he only shows when he's with you.

"Nah," he says as if it didn't cost him even a thought. "I think he's happier with you."

You blink, your throat suddenly tight. You hug the soft toy a little tighter.

"But he was yours," you say quietly, watching Jake's face carefully. "You've had him forever. Thought you couldn't sleep without him."

Jake hums in response before shrugging briefly, "Yeah, but...I gave him to you for a reason."

You tilt your head, but he beats you to it.

"Because you're the person I trust most in the world," he says simply. "And if I can't be there with you, I like knowing that he can. That you've got some part of me with you when I'm not there. That's enough to help me sleep well."

And you think you melt on the spot right then and there.

You squeeze your eyes shut. The lump in your throat is ridiculous. The sting behind your eyes is worse. You blame the sleep deprivation and the fact that it's 2:47AM.

And maybe the overwhelming way he loves you.

Definitely the overwhelming way he loves you.

You bury your face into Snuffles' fuzzy head, your voice muffled, "I don't think I've ever loved anyone more than I love this stupid bear...and you."

Jake laughs again, all breathy and warm and full of affection, "Don't let him hear you call him stupid."

You lift your head up from the bear, your lips in a small pout, "He's not stupid. He's perfect. And loyal. And smells like you."

Jake lifts a brow, amused, "So basically...what I'm hearing is...you're so in love with me."

Your eyes roll immediately, but the smile on your face remains, "Gross. Don't be so full of yourself."

He grins, unbothered, "Baby, you're the one cuddling my childhood bear and professing your lifelong love to it. Too late for that."

You just groan, face mushing back into your pillow as you bring your phone closer, wishing it was him instead, "Whatever. I miss you."

"I miss you more."

You smile, slow and sleepy. "Come home soon?"

Jake nods, eyes shimmering a little more than before, "Yes ma'am. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that promise," you say softly, eyes fluttering closed, tucking Snuffles closer to you. "We'll be waiting. Always."

no doubt m. list

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[kiruamon]

A Villain's Light AU - What if...

... Eclipse had found his little boy, when Snowcone had been even younger? Like just a tiny baby:

His first reaction would be something between confusion and panic. His processors running so wild that his internal fans could be heard loud and clearly. How can something be that tiny? So vulnerable? There wouldn't have been even a split second to be in denial that he might care for the life of an organic being in this very moment. But dang would his hands have trembled when he picked up the little fox cub, somewhat scared of being too rough with this tiny squeaking thing in his hands. Feeling scared - for the first time in a very long while - ... that it might die on him if he didn't do something. He would have been way more faster in a protective and caring mode and trying to nuture the little fox while putting his projects aside for a good while.

The Bite of You're-My-Papa-Now:

Happy proud dad mode would have been unlocked for sure:

Yeah, just a fun What-if-scenario. Back to reality though: Things in the original timeline where a tad more sober and slow paced when Eclipse found Snowcone as a pub. He isn't too proud of his initial thoughts back then (not at all). To have felt indifferent at the sight of Snowcone's mother. Just a dead fox killed by another animal, nothing more to it then that, right? (He still feels guilty about that one.) And the little cub bound to die as well when being left alone. It's just the way nature is. An end that every organic being faces at some point. Why bother if it happens sooner rather than later? "If it has to die anyway, then why not take it with me? It can be a test subject. At least there would be an use to it's life then." Like this Eclipse had thought about the situation, even if at the same time the words had felt a bit hollow. But that was still at a time were Eclipse had a more distorted view of himself, of who he had been shaped into and who he thought to be in his self-created role as a villain. A lot of pieces to himself still missing. Even to believe that there had been any kinds of positive emotions left in him seemed unthinkable to him. To this day, it makes him feel an odd mix of shame and disgust towards himself for the way he had treated his little boy during their first time together. Not that Eclipse really had done anything bad to him. He had made sure to make him a box with some blankets as a 'bed'. He got him some bowls with food and water - that one makes him still cringe in hindsight. And he even looked up what to feed a fox cub. His attachment hadn't started very big, but when Eclipse does something he usually sticks with doing his research thoroughly to make sure he is doing things right. And despite his original excuse, he never had shown a real interest in using Snowcone as a test subject. Honestly, after taking Snowcone in, Eclipse mused more over reasons why he couldn't use the fox cub as a test subject instead of looking for ways how to use him. He would tell himself things like:

"In his current state he is too fragile, I have to do some health checks first." "Results would be more beneficial when he's fully grown up. Right now, he is just too young for any serious testings." "I have more important projects to work on right now. There is no time to bother to come up with a test series. Maybe later, when there is nothing better to do." "Still no time, I'll think about something another day."

In aftersight, his words since the begin might have just been an excuse. An half-hearted way to reason why to take the cub with him instead of leaving it as he never had any real need for a test subject in the first place. His henchmen had probably a better understanding for Eclipse's actions than he himself. They knew since a long time, that their boss had a tendency to take abandoned and lost things with him. To give them a place to stay or to make them whole until they were ready to leave on their own. After all, it was how most of them had found their way under his protective wings.

[madameisaacpereire]

Can you write a one shot or series idk where the reader gets to know Henry bcs he goes to eat at the restaurant she works in, and he’s rlly cold at first but then becomes rlly nice and eventually they get tg? Idk it’s my first time asking for sth 😭😭

ok i wanted this to be wayyyy longer than it ended up being! and idk, i can't see henry taking a relationship with a service worker too seriously/letting it develop past friendship so this isn't exactly what you asked for. but it's the best i could whip up!

dream about it

henry winter x fem!reader, standalone.

     Your favorite shifts to work are Friday evenings, second in, when you’ve been assigned B Section. Funny, because until four months ago Fridays were what you loathed most. The hustle and bustle of those days in restaurants are fabulous money makers, true, but the level of stress they induce has hardly ever seemed worth it to you. Until four months ago, anyway. Because nearly every Friday evening he comes in. Your work crush. Henry Winter. And four months ago is when this all began.

   He doesn’t always come alone, unfortunately. Sometimes he brings a small old man, whom he fixes his attention to. You don’t like these nights as much, because although he is most polite to you on them, his eyes never seem to leave the old man. Others he brings a boisterous, pink cheeked, comparatively sloppy college boy along. You like these times better because this guy, who insists that you call him Bunny, orders a disgusting amount of food and drink. So the bill, and therefore the tip, is always higher. Still other times there will be a matching set of blonds, or a redhead, or another college boy with brown hair that always seems disproportionally shifty.

   Your favorite nights are the ones he does manage to come alone, however. When he sits, solemn, a book you don’t understand splayed out before him. On these nights, you don’t bother to ask what he’d like to order. He gets the same thing each time he’s alone: liver and onions. You write it down as soon as you spot him, whirl it back to the kitchen, and fetch his usual drink from the bartender. When you bring it, he always fixes you with that same forced, unnatural smile. And internally, you swoon.

     On these nights, sometimes, he’ll talk to you over dessert. A large slice of chocolate cake he never finishes sits between you, and he smokes a cigarette. He never smokes before dinner, though B is the smoking section, which is another odd yet endearing thing you file away to think about alone. Your conversations start with simple things: weather, taxes, how you’ve ended up working here at all. But it devolves rather quickly into him droning on and on about something you find droll: Ancient Greeks, unbearably old poetry, dead languages, Ancient Egypt… you name it, he’s talked your ear off about it.

   It strikes you as peculiar, at times, that he only talks to you at all when he’s alone. The few times you’ve seen one of the male servers take his table, they’ve chatted all night long. Incessantly. But you can’t really bring yourself to be too upset about it, anyway, or consider it for too long. Because you’re the only member of the waitstaff that sits across from him in the late evenings, half heartedly sharing a piece of cake, and listening to a philosophical monologue. 

   Over time, you get to know each other rather well. Or, about as well as you can get to know someone you have a strange sort of working relationship with. You know that he’s from Missouri, that he studies nearby, and that he didn’t know about the moon landing until recently. You tell him about the end of the Vietnam war, the premiere of MTV, and the grand affair that was Prince Charles and Lady Diana’s wedding. It’s plain to see that he doesn’t find such things worth paying attention to, but he listens anyway. He learns that you can recite all of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and you learn that he can recite countless epic poems. You learn that his middle name is his mother’s maiden name. He learns about that one, incredibly strange, recurring dream you had as a child.

   The other waitstaff teases you about this. The crush and the visiting both. And you can’t say you don’t understand; he isn’t conventionally attractive, but rather hideous and unnerving. He’s taller than anyone you’ve ever known, and solemn besides, with rough skin and dead blue eyes. This attraction is, quite frankly, embarrassing. But the more you learn about him, the less you find yourself caring.

   So instead, you lean into it. You allow yourself to peek at him through the tinted, one way window when you’re between tasks. You allow yourself to giggle to a work friend or two about that mechanical little smile. You allow yourself to hope that he’ll come in alone, even if he did last Friday. And it’s fun. Most notably, it makes these shifts bearable.

    You don’t have any delusions about him whisking you off into the sunset like some kind of prince. You know he won’t; you’re on entirely different planes of existence. He’s a rich academic, you’re a comparatively poor waitress with very few career aspirations. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t let yourself dream about it, just a little, every time those soulless eyes meet yours.

[egforsakentakes]

Dawg these are our admins 😭

Builderman: Thinks every problem can be solved with a wrench

Doombringer: Thinks every problem can be solved with a hammer

Telamon: Causes problems on purpose

Shedletsky: Uncanny Valley

Dussekkar: The braincell

To elaborate on this:

Builderman is a very technical person. He's good with the framework. He built this world from nothing and he knows it better than he knows his own body. However, this can lead to him becoming dissociated, and when he gets like this, he finds it hard to regard his creations as actual people rather than cute little lego toys. He can make the hard calls easily, but ends up second-guessing himself when he comes back down to earth. And he doesn't always make the right call, which he attributes to his "lack of humanity." He prefers to stay in his mortal form, which is how he got Forsaken in the first place. Even then, he struggles with empathy. He only sees John Doe as a mindless monster, for example, but he can see that Jane has a different opinion, so he dislikes his own perspective intensely. I don't know if I'm making sense here. Oh, and he tends to avoid Guest whenever possible out of guilt.

In contrast, Doombringer has trained himself to have a heart of stone. He does his job quickly and efficiently, without giving himself a chance to think about it. He knows from experience that people will try to appeal to his sense of sympathy to get out of being banned, so he's pushed it down until it's almost faded away completely. It was actually pretty easy to turn him into a Killer.

Telamon always hungered for combat and chaos, so he would occasionally stir up trouble himself for his own entertainment. It bothered his fellow admins intensely - a lot of extra work for them, just because their crazy bird got a little bit bored. However, what he really wanted was attention - everyone else was always so busy, visitors to the Heights were rare. He would not do well in solitary confinement. Causing problems was his way of getting people's attention. Gee, I wonder where I've heard that before! Over time, he grew resentful of the funny little people that seemed to have his friends' full attention. He eventually recognized that people didn't like his attitude and avoided him because of it, but he responded in a horrible way...

When he turned 1× into what they are now, he didn't just put in his hatred; he got rid of any emotion he perceived as "negative" - anger, fear, sadness... even his love of fighting went into the Creation of Hatred. Now, Shedletsky was just like the mortals the other admins cared for so much - silly, happy, whimsical and peaceful. But rather than be happy, they were horrified. Shedletsky was barely half the man he used to be. A lot of them, even Brighteyes, couldn't handle it and pushed him even farther away. They just couldn't see him as the same person anymore. Builderman and Dussekkar stayed, hoping he'd come around - but he was Forsaken before that could happen.

Dussekkar, himself, is definitely the group therapist and the voice of reason. His first instinct is always to protect. He was the one who came up with the concept of respawning (and likely, albeit unintentionally, established himself as the Spawn Two Time worships.) He spends so much time focused on both the mortal world and his fellow admins' well-being, in fact, that he probably lacks self-care.

So yeah... a group of deities that struggle with human nature. Fun.

I don't know any of the others enough to do them sorry.

.