#and when that happens it means something is wrong

[midnite-c6]

WAIIT you should write namgyu and myunggi!! I love that broke bum baby daddy

i support this motion. first thing i thought of when i watched ep. 2

⊂⁠*⁠.⁠✧ you're myung-gi's "one and only", but oh no! looks like he's willing to do some teamwork on you...

warnings: 18+, DARK CONTENT, hate sex, double penetration, threesome, mysoginistic!nam-gyu & myung-gi x fem!reader, degradation, rough, noncon || ∆

⊂*⁠.⁠✧ myung-gi promises you, with all his heart, he'd find you. to compensate for whatever absence he had made you feel in the past, to compensate the love that he had neglected you of. but maybe you're the piece of shit one! for not accepting his apologies. for not forgiving him and letting him love you. for not letting him use you again.

it was cut-throat— two simple directions. he'd kill one person to pass, then he'd be running straight back to protect you. you said that he shouldn't, that he should fucking leave you alone because you can handle yourself. deep down, you are waiting for him. unbeknownst to you though, the drug addict offered up a proposal to team-up with myung-gi! two unstoppable forces. maybe this really shows what myung-gi's morality's truly like, he was destined to be partnered up with people like nam-gyu.

myung-gi was quiet most of the time, only breaking his silence by saying something useful. nam-gyu on the otherhand was unbearably talkative, "hey, man, you tryin' to find your girl?" myung-gi knows better than to respond. nam-gyu would nudge his shoulders, "you are. figures, she alone?" there's nothing meaningful to reply to that, nam-gyu doesn't care, he'll continue to talk and talk and talk, tilting his head to the side, curious-like...

"she's cute. really cute. perky tits, glossy eyes." myung-gi freezes, adjusting his knife to threaten nam-gyu's neck. "don't fucking dare," nam-gyu has no dignity left in him anymore, doesn't even show any sense of fear. "when's the last time you complimented her? maybe that's why ya’ two aren't gettin' along-" "i said fuck. off." the blade of his sword would touch the other guy's neck. nam-gyu pouts, whining in a mocking tone: "aww, but that's what's happening, right? i heard you two fightin', she doesn't wanna be with you, bro."

myung-gi stops walking, stops doing anything altogether, furrowed brows and a heart full of burden. was it wrong to think you were such a bitch? he was doing everything for you! "you're mad." nam-gyu snickers, "yeah, i am. fucking frustrated she won't get me."

"we can get her back, you know?" "what do you mean we?"

"we, take our anger out on her, works like a charm." he doesn't acknowledge myung-gi's question, "that bitch pisses me off too much, talks about how i'm crazy. she's crazy for not letting you help her— stupid, even." while myung-gi gives ideas for better teamwork ethic in hide and seek, nam-gyu gives the best ideas for shit like this. "i was kinda thinkin' of... hm... putting her in her place?"

"it wouldn't be that hard, i don't think... you've already gotten her knocked up!" he adds as he giggles to himself, like that was the most intellectual statement in the world. it takes everything not to shove the knife he was holding right through his chest, but myung-gi was easy to convince, to corrupt, maybe you do need to be put in your place.

when you hide by yourself, not looking to run into anyone but myung-gi, you find a small room with colorful drawings painted all over the walls. this was the best thing you could do, running constantly would only make you tired. though, after a few minutes, you hear nam-gyu's voice in the distance, player 124, someone you know you should stay away from. your breath hitches, hand covering your mouth so you wouldn't make a single sound, yet, you also hear myung-gi's voice. myung-gi! maybe he'd be able to save you from nam-gyu!

myung-gi pushes the door open, seeing you eye to eye. his expression softens for a second, before glaring at you, remembering what he wants to do. he slowly walks inside, looking down at you, with an unfamiliar look on his face. "i... myung-gi... careful, i heard nam-gyu's just right down-" nam-gyu would step in, ironically, speaking of the devil. "me? awh, she's thinking of me." myung-gi would grab the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer to him.

"what the- myung-gi." you call out, "you taking drugs too?" nam-gyu would take the hit from the comment, speaking just a few feet away from you, "that all you can say? you're so shallow... jeez... what a woman."

"shush, can you listen to me for once?" myung-gi reasons, but you were so stubborn! "what? what do you want from me again, myung-gi?" "you're fucking ungrateful." he pins you against the wall, two men who have knives were apparently teaming up on you, what else were you supposed to do???

"myung-gi- what are you doing-" he fake-pouts, like how you do whenever he asks for forgiveness. "oh? so now you wanna act weak? you've been tellin' me all this time that you can handle yourself." nam-gyu slides right behind you, "fuuck, tell her, bro!" hands immediately sliding underneath your shirt and on-top of your chest. you yelp. "myung-gi! he's—" he shushes you. "take off her clothes," nam-gyu would immediately do as he was told, he was also the one benefiting from it anyway. "you. don't say a word, unless i tell you to, copy that?" "what the fuck, myung-gi!" he'd grip your jaw, "can't your little brain follow orders? don't speak. simple." "or you die...!" the one behind you adds, you could only whine in response.

with your clothes lying on the floor, you feel filthy, for being sandwiched by the two men, one you barely even know, naked. "she likes this," he looks you in the eye, like he knows what you're going through and makes fun of you. "don't you?" myung-gi smiles, revelling in your defeat. you're not sure if you should respond to that or not. "she's making that face, means she's into this, disgusting shit like this." nam-gyu would gasp in amazement, smiling as he continues to grope your tits and occasionally flicking your clit. "really? told you. told you i'm an expert at what women like."

"myung-gi, please-" "you'll get what i can give you. no more special shit. i've been offering you everything and you're taking it all for granted. you should know by now you're gonna get what i choose to give you." it seems he was done, so genuinely pissed off at how you were treating him, despite how he was treating you just as bad and if not worse! you should stay away from self-absorbed men, but fuck, did a dick feel good. you'd probably get pregnant right now if you weren't already.

so there you were: the father of your child right infront of you, dick sliding in a rhythm inside your shamefully throbbing pussy, trying to match nam-gyu's pace. his left hand still gripping your jaw to look at him and only him. you whine with tears staining your cheeks, looking up at myung-gi like you were sorry. maybe occasionally looking at nam-gyu. "don't look at that jerk, or i'll make this harder for you." his other hand presses against your lower stomach, he knows you liked that. that's why he got you knocked up in the first place.

nam-gyu's warm breath would tickle against your skin, licking the back of your ear, "don't listen to him- he doesn't treat you right— ain't that correct?" nam-gyu's dick also filling up your other hole was too overstimulating, you weren't used to this at all, the way they coaxed you. both his hands were leaving prints on your ass and waist. "don't- fucking- mess with us, with your silly words," "the only thing sweet about you is your holes. sweetheart." that fucking lunatic's laugh ringing in your ear, you didn't wanna moan because a drug addict was fucking you senseless. or because a drug addict and your supposed husband was fucking you at the same time.

"please- i- myung-gi, forgive me...hn..!" it was so hard to speak without doing it though, moaning would mean they felt good, they felt amazing. that they'd be motivated to go on and on... "keep on begging, fuck, you- you're fucking heartless, for making me so stressed and worried about you-" they both continue to thrust and thrust, unstoppable, with all the adrenaline of murder and sex, they could go for hours if the game didn't have a time limit! "yeah... you shouldn't... treat your boyfriend like that- fuck, you're so tight-" "m'sorry- i'm really sorry.. myung-gi.. nam-gy-" myung-gi slaps your mouth, "not him. don't forget who you belong to." "i'm sorry!" you whimpered out. he's suddenly turned all strict on you... :(

you'd guess they had this all figured out, you don't know when they did. when you'd check the timer, there was still 20 minutes left! 20. long. minutes.

"for now on you're gonna be a good little tool for us until the finale..., we'll take it as an apology." "for- for us?" "me and him. i think two dicks’ just enough for a slut like you."

ts is sum freakshit . ✓✓✓ is it me or when myung-gi got meaner he got hotter. like THAT'S whats wrong with me. & dae-ho too... WHO SAID THAT

[novy2sirius]

ASCENDANT CORE ©novy2sirius

readings for sale (“ur core” readings for $18)!!!

moon core | mercury core | venus core | jupiter core

this is just a random post abt things ppl w these ascendant signs could experience ♡

the more negative ones r based on low vibrational ppl not neutral to high vibrational ppl, so don’t take those specific ones personally if u don’t resonate ♡

these r only abt isolated placements so take these with a grain of salt bc the whole chart does matter ♡

a lot of these r experiences that i’ve heard personally from my friends and ppl who’ve purchased readings from me ♡

aries ascendant

being the first in ur family to do things (ex - graduate, be rich, be famous, etc), being the first person to do things in general (ex - create trends), not being able to find happiness in life until u find what ur passionate abt, unintentionally coming off too intense and speaking too passionately abt something random, ppl thinking ur a mean person before even getting to know u bc of ur rbf, getting sunburnt or getting tan easily, having a lot of pet peeves, blushing rly easily, having thick eyebrows, being called hot and never cute or pretty, being relentless when someone hurts u, being complicated, looking hotter w tattoos, accidentally screaming at someone over something that wasn’t even that big of a deal bc ur react too quickly sometimes without thinking, not giving up until u have what u want, getting farther in life by being assertive and demanding than by killing ppl w kindness, giving amazing head, having a high sex drive, being that person who has natural abs w out working out (if ur naturally skinny)

taurus ascendant

saying the most insane or traumatic stories in the calmest voice ever (nonchalantly) leading ppl to believe something is rly wrong w u, having a deep desire to be valued, sleeping a lot, being a stoner, being a throat goat, being a touchy person, holding a lot of grudges and being slow to forgive, being materialistic or more abt that bag than anything else, taking a lot of naps like a little kid, realizing things too late (a lot), overdoing things/being extra, being super grounded and down to earth, being hella chill, being slow to anger but when u do get angry being vengeful af and raging, being an observer, being able to act calm in the scariest moments and somehow not scream, never looking at someone the same again when they have stank breath even once around u

gemini ascendant

oversharing too much, talking to too many strangers, texting ur every thought one by one instead of typing one longer message, always posting on social media, being well known online, talking w ur hands a lot, always getting told u look younger than u r, having a lot of online friends, constantly wanting to go places and be active, being rly witty, being rly energetic until 3-5 pm hits and then randomly being drained, being in denial a lot even when u know ur wrong, creating a lot of trends online, easily being persuaded by others, ppl forgiving u easily bc of ur charm, making a lot of mistakes bc ur a rly curious person, being inconsistent

cancer ascendant

being super protective of ur loved ones, everyone always saying “y r u sO sHy?” and making u even more shy and uncomfortable, having a charm that makes ppl feel emotionally connected to u and drawn to u instantly, having a baby face/round face, being a rly cuddly person that loves physical touch (sometimes too shy to immediately be this way tho and it can take time to open up), being perceived as cute all the time instead of sexy, always being there for ur family even if they don’t reciprocate the love, having a soft/sweet voice, worrying too much abt things that will literally never happen, emotionally manipulating when u don’t get ur way, being a huge homebody and kinda lazy, getting farther in life by killing ppl w kindness than by being aggressive, being the most unforgiving person alive when someone hurts someone that u care abt

leo ascendant

being popular or attracting lots of attention regardless of how loud/quiet u r (having that star-like energy w out even trying), being a natural comedian, looking like a cat or being a cat person (someone who loves cats), having a deep desire to be admired by others, being brought into drama that has nothing to even do w u, being a gawd damn furry, having a playful energy that’s perceived as immature sometimes but rly u just don’t like to take life too seriously and want to be happy, being rly generous until someone gets on ur bad side (then the sassy side will come out), lying abt the most random things all the time as a kid (ex - saying ur from paris when ur not)

virgo ascendant

being the best person to come to for real and honest advice bc u r not afraid to say the absolute truth and nothing but the truth, struggling with ocd, being rly critical of ur appearance, always getting told u look younger than u r, overthinking every interaction that u have w ppl, having an almond mom, being nosy, having a lot of pet peeves, having such bad anxiety before school growing up that u nearly puke (or do), having horrible health anxiety and thinking ur gonna die over the smallest things like a headache or regular stomach ache, accusing/shaming ppl for doing things that u literally do also, being rly talkative once ur comfortable w someone, wanting to have control in every situation and struggling when u don’t, being rly loyal and not forgiving others who don’t reciprocate loyalty, drinking a ton of caffeine even tho it makes u hella anxious, having grandpa/grandma posture

libra ascendant

caring a lot abt how u look and feeling unhappy/depressed when u don’t feel pretty, being flirted with a lot, being rly good at flirting, wanting to keep a good image, not being able to sleep when u have an unresolved conflict bc u just want peace and no drama in ur life, being an ass eater, attracting a lot of jealousy, blushing rly easily or having rosacea, ppl thinking that u have a crush on someone when ur literally just being nice to the person, being scared to say when ur uncomfortable or don’t like something in a situation/conflict bc u don’t wanna hurt anyone’s feelings or get on anyone’s bad side, fearing conflict bc as a kid ur parents would sweep too many things under the rug and now as a result u never learned how to properly solve conflict so u try ur hardest to just simply avoid it, accidentally coming off fake when u didn’t mean to

scorpio ascendant

ppl that u just met randomly venting abt all their traumas to u, being a rly good secret keeper, wanting most of ur life to be private and keeping a lot of secrets, ppl thinking ur a mean person before even getting to know u bc of that rbf, having an intense energy, being misunderstood, disliking when anyone has power over u in any way, attracting a lot of jealousy or being jealous over everything, having thick eyebrows, observing everyone and being able to tell if something is off just by looking into someone’s eyes, being flaky, exaggerating stories a lot to make them seem more interesting than they r, being rly compassionate (sometimes too compassionate), unexpectedly being a freak when everyone thought u were shy and innocent, looking hotter w tattoos, approaching life w a lot suspicion and skepticism (being paranoid af all the time)

sagittarius ascendant

feeling unhappy when ur in the same place for too long, being perceived as extremely blunt when giving ur opinion when u just thought what u said was pretty mild, knowing multiple languages, being rly spiritual (or religious. or both), having religious trauma, coping w being rly unstable by laughing and doing crazy shit, easily adapting to ur surroundings wherever u go, moving to a new house and being rly emotional the first day but then forgetting that u even moved like a week later, being the worst person to have a roast battle w bc u have the most insane and vile comebacks, attracting lucky opportunities at the most random moments, being that person who sends random memes/gifs thru text all the time, ghosting someone for days and then randomly coming back to tell them the most insane story out of nowhere

capricorn ascendant

being a workhorse and more comfortable when ur working than when ur sitting at home all the time, being rly intelligent, being book smart, being seen as hella cold and ppl always saying “ur sm nicer than u seemed before i met u”, having a rly hard childhood (not peaking in middle/high school but instead when ur older), having to mature from a young age which causes u to then learn lessons and experience things as an adult that u should’ve experienced as a child/teen, speaking very proper, being that one weird kid from elementary school who had a weird obsession w history books abt world wars, gaslighting hoes, seeming tougher on the outside but being a soft person on the inside, being prudish, having a coffee addiction

aquarius ascendant

being unpredictable even to urself, being told ur much friendlier than someone thought all the time bc u have an rbf, prioritizing friendships (or urself if unevolved) over anything else, ur emotions constantly changing in an instant (more so than the average person), running away from commitment bc u have a fear of failure or messing up, being perceived as chaotic, making more friends online than irl, thriving more when ur being independent (ex - not sharing finances/a bank acc w anyone, having ur own bedroom, etc), having to be the brave one all the time and stand on business, growing up with divorced parents or parents that desperately need to have a divorce and it affecting the way that u view relationships for the rest of ur life, reading to seem smarter than u r but not actually enjoying it

pisces ascendant

ppl copying everything u do (having a lot of wannabes), having a mystical/ethereal beauty, being a stoner, being misunderstood, having sanpaku eyes or eyes that look big and cute, ppl naturally being fascinated by ur presence, having a lot of secrets and having ur guard up a lot due to being hurt in the past, being rly forgiving of ppl, always putting others before urself, having psychic visions or dreams from a young age, seeing things that others don’t, knowing something is gonna happen way before it happens, being more spiritual than religious, playing mind games w ppl to get what u want, living in fear too much, wasting money on stupid stuff, morphing ur personality/appearance into every character that u love in a show/film, creating delusions in ur head too much bc u overthink everything, having the most random hidden talents

[kenntoria]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you worry you’re talking too much and tiring nanami out—but he gently reminds you that hearing your voice is the most comforting part of his day.

you don’t mean to talk so much. you never mean to. but something about being around nanami makes it hard to stop.

like the silence he keeps between you two is a kind of warmth, a quiet invitation—not a cage. he’s not the kind of man who needs to fill space with words, but with him, you feel like your words can stretch out and breathe. like they can exist without being pruned down or apologized for.

and that’s dangerous. because you’ve always been a talker.

not in the “life of the party” way, not exactly. more in the way of someone who notices things and says them before deciding if they were worth saying. you narrate your own life, muse aloud about the sky and the way your toast burned and how you once had a friend who sneezed like a kitten.

you do this with nanami while he makes tea, while he reads the paper, while he unbuttons his shirt one button too slow after a long day—

you do this even when you know he’s tired.

and one day, halfway through a story about your neighbor’s parrot learning to curse in three languages, you stop.

you stop because you realize: what if he’s only being polite?

you’re curled up on the couch beside him, his thigh warm where it brushes yours, and you freeze in the middle of the sentence.

“—and then she said he was banned from the window, which is hilarious because—”

you blink. you swallow.

“actually. never mind.”

nanami looks up from where he was folding his glasses in his hands, brow slightly furrowed. “what happened?”

“nothing. i’m just…” you shrug, tucking your feet under you. “talking too much again.”

he’s quiet. not unreadable quiet, not the kind that says you’re right, but thoughtful quiet. the kind that means he’s carefully, quietly disapproving of that thought.

“do you feel like you talk too much?” he asks.

you laugh, but it’s a little hollow. “i mean, don’t i?”

“not to me, sweetheart.”

you look over at him.

he’s leaning back against the couch, looking at you with the kind of patient sincerity that undoes your insides. the kind of gaze that doesn’t flinch or waver, even when you try to hide how self-conscious you’re suddenly feeling.

“but you’re so quiet,” you say. “and you come home from all that work, and i’m just… rambling about parrots and the weird dream i had and that weird bakery guy who always gives me the wrong pastry—”

“i like hearing about those things.” he says it simply, like it’s a fact. not a compliment. not a favor. just true. “i like knowing what your day was like. what you dreamed. what you noticed that i missed.”

your heart squeezes. “yeah, but i go on for so long sometimes.”

he smiles, soft and tired and full of something so fond it borders on worship. “you talking my ears off is the best part of my day.”

you blink. “seriously?”

“seriously.” he turns to you fully now, pressing his knee a little more firmly into yours. grounding you.

“i spend most of my day dealing with cursed spirits or paperwork. everything is bleak or loud or dangerous. then i come home, and you tell me about the bakery guy and the rude parrot and how the sun looked on the windowsill. and for a while, everything feels… fine.”

he hesitates, then adds,

“you make things feel alive again.”

you can’t speak for a second. you just stare at him, wide-eyed and a little overwhelmed, because how is this man real?

and as if sensing that you’re two seconds away from short-circuiting, nanami shifts forward and reaches out, thumb brushing your chin to tilt your face back to his.

“don’t hold back with me,” he says softly. “don’t ever think you have to shrink yourself to keep me comfortable. i want all of it. all of you.”

your throat closes a little. your hands curl into his shirt, right over the center of his chest, and you rest your forehead there, hiding your face.

“…okay,” you mumble into the fabric. “i am going to finish the parrot story. you don’t get to back out now.”

his laugh rumbles beneath your cheek.

“i wouldn’t dream of it.”

and when you start talking again, you swear his arms around you tighten a little. like he’s holding something precious.

like the sound of your voice is exactly what he’s been waiting for all day.

[keirareidss]

the delivery - s.r

♡ summary: spencer anxiously waits on you to decide when to go to the hospital pairing: husband!spencer reid x pregnant!wife!reader warnings: basically just that episode of the office (S6 E17), reader is pregnant, descriptions of pregnancy, contractions wc: 3.3k from the results of this poll

Nine months. Nine months you'd suffered nausea, fatigue, back pain, swollen ankles, swollen breasts, and mood swings. And nine months your husband had tended to you hand and foot, getting you everything you needed, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

You had continued going to work, staying out of the field but needing the fulfillment of doing something during the day. Spencer had protested but ultimately lost the debate. You just had to promise to be careful, stay off your feet as much as you could, and let him know immediately if something went wrong. He didn't care if he was halfway across the country, he'd hitchhike his way back if you had so much as a foot cramp.

Rossi and you had gotten closer during your pregnancy, him bringing in home cooked meals, whatever you had been craving lately, and eating it with you at lunch while explaining how he made it and what went into it. He was very precise with how his dishes were made and the fact that you were hungry a lot more often meant he could try out some of his new recipes on you.

You were sitting in the kitchenette with him now, trying his new spin on pesto pasta.

"I was thinking, maybe we should do something special before you go on maternity leave. One last perfect meal."

"Mmm, that sounds great, what are you thinking?"

"I think it should be a surprise." You suddenly feel a tightening pain in your stomach and your eyes close, lips pressing together as you let out a groan of pain.

"Ooh. Getting close, huh?" Emily asked, shutting the fridge door and leaning against it, looking at you with a grimace.

"No no. I still have time." You waved her off. You planned on waiting until midnight to go to the hospital so you could have a full extra day there, surrounded by doctors. It just pained Spencer to see you having to push through the pain.

You were standing by the copier when you got another contraction. You reminded yourself, they're irregular and far apart, so you'll be fine. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your hand found your back where the pain was the worst.

Spencer's head snapped up watching you carefully as Derek came around the corner, Penelope in tow.

"You're having contractions? That means you're in labor right? You should go to the hospital." Derek suggested, sending you a sympathetic glance.

"We're not going to the hospital yet, we're going to wait until midnight." You said, your voice tight as you shuffled back to your chair, Derek following close behind.

"Oh, why?" He asked, leaning against your desk as Emily and JJ lifted their heads to listen in.

"Because the insurance company only covers two nights." Spencer explained.

"Everything's fine. We have plenty of time." You assured them all.

"Did you know that labor can last weeks? Then they take your insides out, and they just plop them on the table, and sometimes epidurals don't work, and-"

"Okay, okay, thanks Pen, that's really good to know. Thank you."

You let out a breath as your contraction ended. Spencer, who'd been watching from the copy machine, rushed over.

"That's seven minutes. Here we go. This is happening."

"Hold on, hold on. You chuckled, cutting him off as he bent down, trying to help you stand from your chair. "It isn't midnight yet." His excited smile dropped.

"Are you serious? Angel..."

"No, the doctor said every five to seven minutes."

"I-"

"I'm gonna be okay, we should really try to make it to midnight."

"Honey, please."

"Yeah, you really should try to make it because if your baby's born tomorrow, he'll have the same birthday as the late great Johnny Hodges. The greatest saxophonist of all time."

"Did you hear that? Johnny Hodges." Spencer scoffs with a smile and stands up.

"Okay, but we are leaving at five minutes apart."

"Five minutes." You nodded as he backed away to his own desk.

You sank into your chair, eyes closed, as the pain slowly subsided.

"Okay, okay, okay, okay..." You whispered breathily. Spencer's eyes were locked on you, worry clear in his face. Your eyes open and you catch his stare. "Okay, stop watching me."

"Okay, crazy. I think I have some better things to do with my day than worry about you, like figuring out dinner." He said sarcastically.

"Mm hmm."

"Steak is 20% off, well now till Friday, that's a big deal, while we're on the subject, why don't I just run you down to the hospital and just do a quick check?" You click your tongue, shoulders still tense.

"Not till midnight." He purses his lips defeatedly.

"So have you guys thought about names yet?" JJ asks, standing beside your desk, a warm mug of coffee in her hand. God, you missed coffee. The sweet dark taste of it, warming your mouth- alright, stop thinking about it.

"We actually have them picked out already." You said, smiling at Spencer.

"Uh, Diana Lily Reid if it's a girl, and Jude Gideon Reid if it's a boy."

"Oh, those are so cute." JJ gushed. You chatted for a couple minutes before your next contraction came on, jolting through you. Your hand found your stomach as your face scrunched in pain. JJ squeezed your shoulder in support as Spencer ran a hand through his hair.

"Angel, we really should-"

"Spencer." Your tone was scolding and he quickly shut his mouth, biting the inside of his cheek. The contraction passed and you took a few deep breaths.

"I think this is a bad idea." Spencer mrumurs.

"I know, honey, why don't you practice diapering again?" You suggested to get his mind off of it.

"I've already done that, I'm down to 21.3 seconds." He mutters, his leg bouncing. He'd been practicing changing diapers on anything he could find, a fake doll he'd brought in, a football from Derek's desk, he'd even practiced on one of Penelope's large cat figurines.

You were on your way back to your desk from the bathroom when you felt another contraction, the worst of them, shooting through your abdomen. You stopped in your tracks, changing course to one of the couches near the door. The cushions provided you with little relief, though, Spencer noticed immediately and rushed over, sitting next to you and taking your hand.

Your eyes shut tight, you squeezed his hand hard with your other hand over your stomach, groaning in pain.

"Oh! Oh, alright." He shifted on the couch, grabbing your clasped hands in his other one as you threatened to break his bones in your fist. "That's a good one." Spencer winced.

"Ow... okay." You breathed out, letting go of Spencer's hand. He bent, his elbows on his thighs as he put his mouth in his hand, deeply considering his life choices.

"Honey, maybe we should-"

"Don't even suggest it Spencer. We're waiting."

"I know." He sighs. He sits with you, rubbing you back soothingly and around six minutes later, another contraction comes on.

"That's every six minutes." Emily chimes in, checking her watch.

"Okay, you know what?" Spencer shifts restlessly in his seat, moving to stand. "I'm gonna go give the doctor a quick call, he'll probably know-"

"Spence, please." He sits back down next to you, glancing at the ceiling for a moment before looking down. "Happy thoughts here? Happy times."

"Why don't you just figure out the ways to induce labor and do the opposite of those?" Morgan suggested.

"You know what? Great idea, Derek, let's do that." You agreed, reaching out to take your husbands hand. Derek turned, looking up a list.

"Alright, number one, stimulate her nipples."

"Easy, no one's doing that, move to the next one." Penelope said and Derek scrolled down. Spencer bent, putting his hand in his hands, elbows on his thighs as he bounced his leg and tugged at his hair.

"Uh, walk around. Great she's already doing the opposite of that."

"Number three. Having sex. Well what's the opposite of having sex?" Penelope said and Spencer shot up from his seat, shaking his head.

"Nope, nope, come on, let's go to the hospital,"

"Spence,"

"Let's go to the hospital now."

"Spencer, honey, I love you,"

"Mhm." He said tensely, putting his hands on his hips.

"But you're really distracting me from my distractions."

"Okay, well, I'm sorry."

"Why don't you go do some work?" You gestured to his desk and he ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Great. I will do that. Sorry, I just feel a little bit frazzled and you know how very rarely I use that word."

"I know. You don't like to be frazzled."

"No, I don't." He said, sounding a bit like a grumpy child as he walked back to his desk. He stops to grab a stack of books on pregnancy that he's kept close just in case before walking out. Hotch, having come out of his office to watch the amusing spectacle, followed him out, a bit worried about his anxious protegee.

~

"I know her better than anyone in this office, and obviously she's gone crazy but everybody wants to say that I'm crazy. But I'm not crazy, she's crazy. I'm not crazy, she's crazy." Spencer repeated, pacing the hallway, his hair tousled from constantly running his hands through it.

"Reid." Hotch says gently.

"No, no, she's not crazy, I shouldn't say that. She's just pregnant. But she needs to be at the hospital and she's not listening to me."

"Reid." Aaron repeats but Spencer sinks to the floor, grabbing a book as his legs stretch out into the middle of the hallway, his back against the wall as he quickly finds the page he's looking for.

"Five to seven minutes." He points to the line in the page, grabbing another book to find the same information. "Five to seven minutes." It's almost as if he's talking to himself as he grabs a third book, searching for the information again. "Six minutes- different, but not really." He picks up the fourth book as Aaron watches on silently. "Five to seven minutes."

Spencer's head falls back against the wall as he looks at the ceiling. His gaze falls down on Hotch across from him.

"Reid, take a break. You're stressing yourself out here. She knows herself and she knows her body. She'll come to you when she's ready."

"You're right." Spencer mumbles, getting to his feet. "I think I'm gonna go sit in the car for a bit. I need some fresh air." Aaron nods, watching him leave, a hand threading through his hair and tugging slightly.

Spencer is sitting in your car in the parking garage, staring off into space when he hears a gentle knock on the window. He sees you giving him a soft smile and rolls the window down, leaning closer to you.

"Hey."

"Hey." You gave him a small wave. "I'm not gonna get in the car, because I know if I do you'll try to drive me to the hospital."

"You know me too well." He chuckles anxiously, the smile quickly falling, replaced with a tense expression.

"Okay, Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Everything is fine,"

"Totally." He mumbles.

"You don't have to worry, try not to think about it. She's not coming out for a while, okay?" You chuckled a bit, trying to reassure him. He smiles but it quickly drops when he registers what you said.

"Did you say she?" You smile falls as well.

"I called the doctor, like, a week ago. I couldn't wait." His eyes go hazy as he stares at the spot next to you. You can't gauge how he's feeling and a pit forms in your stomach. "Oh, go, don't be mad." You breathed.

"Mad?" His eyes are teary as he looks up at you. "How could I be mad? We're having a little girl."

"Mhm." You let a small, hesitant smile form, still unsure of what he's feeling.

"We're having a little girl. Oh, wow." He sighs and you giggled a bit in relief.

"I know."

"All right. Well I definitely feel better."

"Good." You grinned, leaning down to kiss him through the window opening. He turns to watch you as you head back inside but he notices something.

"Hey, did you change?" You turn back around.

"Oh, yeah. My water broke." You giggled.

"Oh." He chuckles and you turn, walking away and his smile quickly falls. "Oh."

You walk back inside, shedding your coat but you quickly pause as pain shoots through you.

"Oh! Woah..." You pause to lean against the wall and Derek gets up, rushing to you. Hotch looks up, coming out of his office to survey from the balcony. "Haa!" You breathe out, Derek steadying you.

"Okay, alright, it's time, time to go to the hospital, somebody get Reid."

"No, not yet Derek, it's not midnight yet. And I still need to try Rossi's dish, where is he?" You head to the kitchen as Derek looks on helplessly. He shoots a text to Spencer who comes up quickly, though, he knows he won't be able to convince you to go to the hospital.

You sit down with Rossi in the kitchenette as he prepares the meal. Spencer paces nearby, his thumb and pointer finger working at his temple, his other hand stuffed in his pocket, clenched into a fist.

"Alright it's essentially a three course meal. First, we have Bistecca alla Fiorentina, a steak that was grilled to rare perfection, and then we have-" He cuts himself off when he notices that your face is all scrunched up and your hunching over slightly. "Are you okay?" He asks, reaching out to put a hand on your arm.

"Mhm." Your voice is tight and in a higher pitch from the pain. "Yes, I'm fine. Um..."

"Are you sure?" He asks gently.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's still considered a minor contraction as long as I can talk through it!" Your voice breaks at the end, raising louder as the pain sharpens.

"Okay, Spencer-" Derek, who'd been sitting by, watching with worry, called to his friend who rushed over, immediately looking down at you. "I think it's time to go to the hospital.

"Alright, time to go? Let's do this."

"No, no it's better." Your voice was a wavering whine as you tried to breathe through it. "That wasn't even the worst of 'em- I'm fine." Spencer bends slightly, his hand on your back.

"Hey, come on, let go to the hospital."

"They're not that bad still, Spence." He says your name in a firm voice. "No, it's passing, it's fine."

"Honey, it's time. Let's go to the hospital."

"It's okay." You whined in protest.

"I really think we should go to the hospital."

"No it passed now, it's fine."

"You know what, I'm not asking anymore." He reaches down, one hand at your back, the other grabbing your arm as he tried to pull you to your feet. Rossi's hand was at your other arm, more hesitant in trying to help you up. "We got to go."

"No, I'm not going."

"We need to go." He changed his positioning as you resisted his attempts.

"No, no come on, I'm not going, okay?!" You shouted, making all three men back off in surprise but you were staring directly at Spencer, your eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not going today, because I can't do it, I don't think I can do it." Your voice broke as tears sprung to your eyes and Spencer immediately crouched down in front of you, his hand on your knee as his voice soffented.

"Hey, hey, are you kidding me? If anyone can do this, you can do this. If you can take down two unsubs on your own with no back up, you can do this. Angel, I'm scared. But the best news is, we're having a baby today. So let's have it at the hospital." His gentle voice successfully soothed you and he turned his head slightly to address Derek. "How are we doing on contractions?"

"Two minutes apart."

"Two min-" Spencer froze, tightening his lips.

"Oh god." You said as you realized what that meant. "Oh no." Spencer stood, turning to face Derek.

"Morgan I told you to warn me at five minutes."

"Spence, we waited too long." Your voice was filled with worry.

"We waited too long. Two minutes doesn't do us any good-"

"I know." Derek tried to calm him.

"Well, what happened to four and three?" Your breathing sped up as tears started forming again. He sighed sharply, running a hand through his hair and turning back to you.

"I don't wanna have my baby here." You whimpered.

"You're not going to, you know where we're going?"

"The hospital."

"Yes and we're going to have a baby, okay?" You nodded and Spencer gently helped you out of your seat but, internally, he was freaking out, forcing himself to put a brave face on for you. He ran to get your bags from the desk before rushing back, putting an arm around your back to lead you out of the precinct.

"Oh, good luck, guys!" Penelope called to you, the team gathering in the middle of the bullpen to wish you goodbye.

"Bye, good luck!" JJ smiled brightly, as the two of you hurried out the door.

After nineteen long hard hours of labor, she was out, cleaned up and swaddled, in your arms. Spencer was laying in the bed beside you, his arms gently around you as he stared at your baby in awe. She was beautiful, the perfect mix of both of you. Diana Lily Reid, named after Spencer's mother and your favorite flower, had Spencer's eyes and bone structure, and your nose and lips.

"She's perfect." You whispered, brushing your pinky down her tiny nose, barely grazing her skin, not wanting to wake her.

"I know." Spencer agreed. You turned to look at him. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

"Better. Still a little sore." He hums, kissing your temple.

"Good." The door opened slowly and Penelope poked her head in.

"Is this the little baby Reid?" She asked quietly, coming into the room. The rest of the team was behind her with various gifts, Derek carrying balloons, Aaron holding a teddy bear with a bow around its neck. "Oh, she's gorgeous!" Penelope gushed.

"I made you a bunch of easy meals that you can heat up, I dropped them off in your fridge on the way here." JJ told you and you gave her a grateful look, grabbing her arm.

"You're a savior, JJ, thank you." She smiled.

"And we're all offering babysitting and cleaning help whenever you need it." Hotch gave you a smile and you felt tears pricking behind your eyes and the immense display of kindness.

"You guys are so sweet." Your voice wobbled and they all smiled. Spencer reached over, wiping the tears that slipped out and ran down your cheek. Spencer let you hand him your daughter as you composed yourself.

"If you guys want to hold her, there's hand sanitizer on the table over there." Spencer nodded to the nightstand. Emily was first, sanitizing before carefully taking the baby into her arms.

"Hi, baby. Hi." She cooked, smiling down at her. Diana yawned and everyone gushed as her. You knew right away that this baby would be loved by everyone in her life. She'd be close with all her aunts and uncles, closer with her parents. You'd give this baby the best life imaginable, showering her in love and care, knowing she deserved every bit of it.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni, @pixie-verse

[starrbishops]

⟡Baby, I'm Yours⟡

(Bob Reynolds x f!Reader)

Summary: You have sex with Bob for the first time. (sequel to Risk but can be read standalone)

Word Count: 4K

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, established relationship, SMUT, "what are we gonna do ride Bob" 😏, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, p in v, missionary, cowgirl, multiple rounds (super stamina woohoo!) unproteted sex (wrap it up kids), Bob Reynolds has a big dick fight me on this, references to masturbation and wet dreams, aftercare, Bob's eyes glow when he cums (I warned you all)

a/n: So I finished writing this and then made this silly little textpost and uh. people liked it a lot so i'm proud to present you the basis for it. Just wanna say from the bottom of my heart Bob Reynolds is a little shit from Florida and yes he IS mostly submissive and he DOES whimper during sex but he is NOT an innocent baby boy and he CAN and DOES fuck. Okay rant done enjoy the sex.

You spend the next few minutes wrapped up in each other’s arms in the dim lamplight, kissing and giggling and just being together. It’s intimate, a kind of safety Bob hasn’t felt maybe ever. It's exhilarating, like something out of a dream. You’re really here, kissing him, touching him, wanting him. The thought just plays over and over in his mind. He’s so preoccupied by you, he’s barely aware of the growing hardness in his pants. Which you quickly become aware of.

You pull away mid-kiss, and Bob furrows his brow, worried he did something wrong. Even in the darkness, he can see the confusion on your face. “Um, Bob…” you trail off, not sure how to point it out. Then it hits him.

“Oh!” he scrambles back, grabbing a pillow to cover his lap. “I am so sorry, that, I did not mean to do that, I-”

“Bob.” you chuckle, a reassuring smile on your face. “It’s okay. I was just…surprised.” Bob laughs nervously in response, still clutching the pillow. 

“Do you want to?” Bob tilts his head at your question.

“Want, want to what?”

“Have sex, Bob.” you say, flat out. You’re never one to beat around the bush, you get straight to the point. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

Still, his brain needs a moment to catch up to what’s happening around him. “Oh, um, do you? Want to?”

You nod. “We don’t have to, I mean, I don’t want to pressure you into-”

“I do!” he exclaims. “Want to. Have sex with you. Now. If you want to.”

You just smile, crawling over to his side of the bed. You unclasp his fingers from the pillow, taking its place in his lap. On instinct he wraps his arms around your waist, resting them just barely on the small of your back. He’s still not sure if he’s allowed to touch you, or should be. You kiss his jaw, gentle and soft, testing the waters. Bob’s breath catches as you do so, and you continue, trailing down his jawline to his neck, pausing at the conjunction of his neck and shoulder, where you begin sucking a bruise into the skin.

Bob releases a broken moan, his hands gripping onto your hips. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and get a sense of just how big he is. The Sentry Project changed a lot about him, you know that. It’d crossed your mind that it might have affected him down there, but it still surprises you just a bit. Or maybe he’d always been like this. He’s just as incredible to you, powers or not.

Satisfied with yourself, you pull away from Bob’s neck, grinning at the darkening bruise forming there. He moves a hand from you to touch it, as if he’s making sure it’s real. You take his hand in yours, placing it on your face. 

He looks up at you with a hungry gaze, before moving in to devour you once again. Robert Reynolds kisses like a man starved, gorging himself on your affection for fear it’ll vanish once more. You hold him tight, kiss him back as hard as you can. A reassurance, a promise that you’re not going anywhere, not now, not ever if you had it your way.

“Take your clothes off,” you pant out between kisses. It’s not meant to be an order, but Bob certainly takes it as one, immediately rushing to pull off his baggy sweatshirt, followed quickly by his t-shirt underneath. Bob is the last guy anyone would expect to be jacked, but here he is.

You run a hand along the line of his abs, Bob shivering under your touch. “You’re beautiful, y’know?” you whisper, kissing his cheek as you squeeze his shoulder. He chuckles, nervously muttering something under his breath. “You are.” you insist, pulling back to face him. “Not because of your body, but because you’re you, okay?”

He nods, gazing up at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for him. You’re not sure how to respond to his look of absolute adoration except to once again kiss him senseless. 

He starts tugging on the hem of your shirt, a request. You’re still in your tactical gear, crumpled and dirty from your mission. You pull back, getting to work on removing your various holsters and hidden knives, Bob assisting you to the best of his ability.

“You have so many knives.” he points out, adding number five to the pile that’s begun forming next to where the two of you sit.

“You never know.” you quip as you find your last one, moving the pile over to Bob’s nightstand as he starts yanking your shirt up.

“Only fair.” he points out with a smirk. You raise your arms over your head, allowing him to tug off your suit, leaving just your bra covering your top. You reach behind yourself to unclip it, only for Bob to swat your hand away. “I got it.” he insists, taking only a moment as he unfastens it, tossing it somewhere in the room.

He takes a second to take in the view, his mouth hangs open in the shape of a smile, not sure whether to gape or cheer. He quickly puts his mouth to better use, kissing a trail down your collarbone to your breasts, one hand on each pressing them together as he lavishes them.

“Can I eat you out?” Bob’s voice interrupts the silence, peering up at you from between your breasts. “I-I’m not that great, but I want to try. Please.”

You nod, rolling off of him and laying on your back while Bob settles himself between your legs, busying himself with tugging your pants off. “Have you done this before?”

“Hm?” he snaps out of his focus at the sound of your voice. “Oh, yeah, I just, never really got to do it properly, y’know? Take my time.” He tosses your pants away, fingers hooking under your underwear before pausing. “Do you still want to?”

“Bob, I want you between my legs five minutes ago.” he grins and yanks off your underwear, not even tearing his eyes away from your pussy. Even hidden beneath his shaggy brown hair you can see his dark blue eyes are blown out with lust, lingering carnal desire evident on his face.

Bob doesn’t bother with words. He just goes to work, gripping your thighs in his large hands and licking a stripe up your cunt as you moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he begins to lap at you. It’s messy, imprecise, but god it feels so good. He’s learning, noticing what gets the most reaction and keeping it up. He sees how your breath catches when he just barely flicks his tongue against your clit, filing it away for later. 

“Fuck, Bob, baby…” you pant, gripping his hair like a lifeline. “Not great my ass, you liar…”

Bob interrupts your jokes by sucking on your clit, earning another sudden moan from you before he stops suddenly, perking his head up. “Can I use my fingers?”

“Hell yeah.” you manage to breathe out. He nods and lowers his head back down, this time moving his hand from where it digs into your thigh to swipe through the wetness of your folds. He coats his index finger in your arousal, looking straight in your eyes as he licks it off. 

“You taste so good.” you mumbles as he slowly inserts his finger into you, a choked out moan escaping your throat. Bob’s a big guy, and more than once you’ve imagined those massive hands of his fingering you. Reality is ten times better than any fantasy.

He starts slowly, putting what he's learned into practice and continuing to alternate licking and sucking at your clit while he presses his finger in and out of you. You jerk against his grip, back arching as he hits that perfect spot within you. His grip on your thigh just tightens, and he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “I got you.” he mutters, adding another finger and speeding up his pace, making sure to hit the spot that seems to make you go wild. It works, judging from the strings of expletives and moans that continue to escape you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening as you writhe under Bob’s touch, every move sending licks of fire through your body. “Bob, Bob, ‘m so close, baby, please…”

Bob cuts you off with a moan between your legs, the vibrations reverberating through you, pushing you closer to your high. His eyes shut in pleasure as he devours you, the sound of you moaning out his name better than any high he’s ever felt.

“‘So close, Bob, please…” 

He takes it as a sign, sucks on your clit even harder, opening his eyes so he can watch you fall apart under him. And you do, crying out his name, one hand with a death grip on his hair and the other gripping the pillows so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t exploded into feathers. 

He keeps it up through your orgasm, slowing down the pace of his fingers and switching from sucking to gentle licks on your clit as you come down. “Jesus fucking Christ, Bob,” you pant, gazing down at the man between your legs.

“Did I do good?” he asks, his voice earnest and hopeful. It’s quite the contrast, the feeling of ecstasy still buzzing in the bones, the sight of your slick all over his chin, compared to the genuine worried look in his eyes as he asks the question.

“Yes, Bob, that was good.” you half-laugh. “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in a long time.”

He grins, satisfied with his work. “Nice.” he crawls up your body, gingerly pressing a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him, the flavor driving you even crazier, making you more desperate for him. You lightly tug on his lower lip, earning a deep groan from Bob.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” he mumbles, the kiss becoming a collision of lips and teeth, the two of you stick with saliva and arousal. “You’re so perfect, and you want me.”

“Want you so bad, Bob.” you mutter into his mouth between kisses. “Want your cock, please.”

He moans, pulling away to look at your face, eyes dark with lust, lips kiss-swollen and wet, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Say it again.”

“God, need your pretty cock inside of me, Bob, baby, please-” he’s smashing his lips against yours again, one hand working on tugging his sweatpants off. He sits up, you joining in assisting him. He pulls his boxers down with them as he finally rids himself of the wretched garments, his cock laying hard and leaking against his perfect abs. It’s better than you could’ve imagined, long and girthy, veins running along it. A small part of you worries about walking tomorrow, but the part of your brain that is so goddamn horny overrules it.

“I got a condom somewhere, I think.” he’s saying, although you barely register it as you stare at his length.

“You’re good!” you snap out of it, Bob turning back to you. “I’m all clean, IUD, you’re good.” you clear your throat, a bit awkwardly, “I’m not planning on being with anyone else, so…”

“Oh my god,” Bob grins, settling himself back on the bed before pulling you into his lap, “I’m clean too, and I don’t want anyone but you. You’re perfect.” he presses a kiss to your temple.

You chuckle as you recall something. “Remember how John was saying we should ride you into the sky?”

Bob looks confused, but nods. You lean in, whispering in his ear. “This is what I was imagining.”

His hands grip your hips, a stuttered breath escaping against your shoulder. He can barely get the words, “oh yeah?” out.

“Yeah.” you whisper, nipping at his neck, before pressing a kiss to it.

He’s hot against your aching cunt as you raise your hips, aligning yourself with his hardened cock. The pre-cum leaking from his tip mixing with the abundance of arousal dripping between your thighs. “Y-you ready? I know it’s kinda a lot, I mean, it always was, and then Sentry, well-”

“Bob, you’re perfect.” you look him right in the eyes, giving him a kind smile, as if he’s not about to fuck you raw. “I want you. All of you.”

He nods, clearly psyching himself up. He’s had flings before, and he knows he’s a lot to take. The Sentry Project enhanced all of him, and he’s doing his best not to hurt you. “Just tell me if you need to stop, okay?” You nod, and with a sharp inhale you begin to lower yourself, the head of his cock breaching your entrance. You gasp, and he pauses, making sure you’re okay. You just nod fervently, unable to form sentences at the feel of him stretching you out. It’s a little painful, which you expected, but the pleasure far outweighs the fact that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You continue, brow furrowed in concentration, whimpers escaping Bob beneath you at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing around him.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good, hooooly shit,” he groans as he shuts his eyes in pleasure, doing his best not to cum when he’s only halfway in you, “you’re so fucking tight, oooh my god, are you okay?” 

You nod, nails digging into his shoulders as you pause, trying to adjust to the feel of him in you. Even only halfway, the stretch is more than you’ve ever had before, and it feels fucking incredible. You start to understand the meaning of being cockdrunk for the first time. 

With a final groan, you settle on Bob’s lap, his cock sheathed in you completely, panting at the feel of you around him. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, head hanging in the crook of your neck. For a few moments, the only sound is your intertwined breaths, your bodies hot and slick with sweat against one another as you sit there.

You roll your hips experimentally, a small moan escaping at the sensation. Bob’s head rolls back against the headboard, his grip on you even tighter than before. You’re gonna have bruises of his handprint for days.

You start slowly, rising and lowering onto his thick length. “Fuck, Bob…” you moan, eyes rolling back as you lose any sense of time and place, the only thing left the feeling of Bob’s body pressed against yours, Bob’s cock splitting you open as you bounce in his lap. 

“You’re gonna kill me, fuck…” he groans into your neck as you quicken your pace, the need for him growing. He bites on your collarbone as another moan escapes his chest, thrusts quickening. He kisses the spot he’s marked, sucking a bruise into it. “You’re so good, so perfect…”

“All yours, Bob.” you pant, one hand turning his face to look at you. “I’m all yours, baby.”

The sound Bob makes borders on animalistic, a whine escaping his lips as he kisses you, sloppy and desperate. “I’m yours,” he murmurs against your lips, “I’m yours forever.”

The lewd sound of wet skin slapping echoes throughout his room interspersed with Bob’s whines and your cries. You look like an angel above him, the golden light illuminating your glassy eyes as you moan with pleasure, your tits bouncing with each movement. You can already feel your second orgasm coming, and from the expletives escaping Bob, he’s fast approaching his as well. And then you notice.

“I-is something wrong? You okay?” Bob murmurs, noticing your confused expression.

“Y-your eyes, Bob, fuck…” 

He doesn’t even realize till now that his eyes are glowing. It’s another thing the Sentry Project changed about him. It happens when he gets too caught up in something, uses his powers, gets frustrated or angry. He’d never realized it happened in situations like this. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he tells you, clenching his jaw as he tries to hold it together, his eyes buzzing with light, the lamps in the room’s brightness going in and out. “Should I-where should I-”

“In me.” you moan you rapidly bounce yourself up and down, “fuck, Bob, fill me up, please!”

“So good to me, so pretty,” he murmurs as he desperately tries to hold out from his high, his grip on you bruising, quickly losing control of himself as he unwinds. “I’m gonna give you everything. It’s all yours, baby, all for you.”

“Fuck, yes, Bob! Please, please please please-” your babbling moans end with a last scream of his name as you cum, cunt clenching around him as you take him as deep as possible, pelvises flush against each other. Something about the golden glow of his irises, the low rasp in his voice, the words themselves, it all sends you crashing over the edge, an incoherent, animalistic noise escaping you as you cling to Bob, pressing your forehead up against his.

 Bob whimpers, the glow from his eyes illuminating your face as you cum, the way your eyes roll back, the debauched expression you wear. It’s enough to send him over the edge, his eyes buzzing with light as he cums. With a cry of your name, Bob tumbles over the edge, arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You feel the warm spurts of his cum within you, painting your insides, claiming you for himself. The two of you sit there, panting and sweating as you come down.

“Oh my, fucking god, that was amazing.” he looks up at you, a tired, fucked out expression on his face. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you.” you smile, removing your nails from where they’ve left red crescents on Bob’s shoulder blades, moving to cup his cheek. “So good to me, baby.”

“I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, one hand running down to your waist. 

You shake your head. “Well, I can’t really feel my legs, but I did expect that, so…”

“Sorry.” he says, though that smile on his face says otherwise. He’s proud of himself.

“‘S alright.” you sigh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. He whines, shifting his head to kiss you properly. He’s still inside of you, and you can feel his cock, still semi-hard within you. Even after two orgasms, you look up at him and want more, wanting to feel him, for the feeling of his skin on yours to never leave. “I could go again, honestly.”

“Really?” he laughs, a little surprised at both your stamina and the fact that you still want him. He sighs, one hand running along your jaw as he feels himself already growing hard once again. “I can’t say no to you.”

“So, yes to round two?”

“If I ever say no to that question, shoot me.” he grins, wrapping his arms around your hips as he rolls you both over, his cock staying in you the whole time. “How’s this?”

You yelp a little from the change in position, landing on your back and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders once again. 

You’re still sensitive from your first two orgasms, and Bob is aware of that.“I got you.” he whispers into your shoulders, rolling his hips gently. “I’ll take care of you. Promise.” He goes slowly, his eyes locked on yours as you pant under him, head falling back against the pillows.He kisses you again, hungry and desperate, as he sets his pace, dragging his cock out before pushing back in once again. Bob is gentle with you, considerate, a man with the power of a thousand suns turned docile above you.

“So many dirty dreams about you, baby, you’re so much better than any of ‘em.” Bob mutters into your shoulder. He looks up at you, a little unsure, although his pace doesn't change. “Is this a dream? Are you here?”

“I’m here, Bob.” you moan, giving him a small smile as you run a hand through his hair. “I-fuck! I’m here.”

You look like heaven, messy hair framing your face, mouth gaping, eyes shut as you throw your head back. You’re all he wants, everything he needs. He could stay here forever, taking care of you, fucking you, whatever you want. Just as long as you neer stop giving him those sweet smiles, screaming out his name just like that as he fucks you.

“Bob,” you call his name in a breathy whisper, “more, please, baby.”

He nods, speeding up his thrusts, pushing into you with more force. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass as you pull him deeper into you. He breaks eye contact to look down at where your bodies connect, gazing at the sheen of your arousal around his cock, the white ring forming at the base of it. A mixture of both of your cum spurts out around where he’s entering you, and the sight somehow manages to make him even harder.

He’s moaning again, and before you know it his hands are on your face, pulling you up to kiss him as his thrusts grow harder and shallower, barely pulling out before slamming his full length back into you. “Fuck, Bob, yes, just like that, yes!” You scream at the sensation. You couldn’t give a fuck if the others hear when Bob Reynolds is on top of you, pounding his pretty cock into you, whispering dirty nothings in your ear.

One hand leaves your face and returns to the spot between you, rubbing gentle circles on your clit. “Come on, baby, give it to me, please.” he practically begs, dark blue eyes once again shining above you. “Need you to cum for me, come on my cock, please.” You do as he says, the coil in your stomach snapping once more, ecstasy washing over you, your cunt clenching around Bob’s length. Bob curses, pressing his lips against yours as he thrusts as deep as possible, filling you up with his cum once again.

“Fuck.” you groan, barely able to lift your head. “That was cool. The eye thing.” 

“I didn’t know I did that.” he admits, rolling off of you. A small gasp escapes him as he watches his cum spill out of you, sticky and wet between your thighs. “You just look so perfect full of me.”

You smile, taking a deep breath as Bob quickly runs to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel that he uses to wipe you down. “Y’know, I never took you for a talker.”

“What, during sex?” he asks, as if he’s not literally wiping his cum off of you.

“Sex takes some of your brain cells out of you, huh?” you joke, sitting up on your elbows.

Bob chuckles, giving a small shrug. “I think that’s just what you do to me.”

After he’s carried you to the bathroom to pee, gotten you a glass of water, you settle yourself on his bare chest, running your finger along his collarbone as he shuts out the lights.

“You’re amazing.” you tell him between yawns, your eyes closing, exhausted by your activities. “Even if I can’t sit for a week.” you mutter, and then you’re out, breathing slowing as you drift off.

Bob ust smiles at the sight of you, resting against his chest, comfortable and content. Never in a million years did he think he’d have something like this. A home in the tower, a family in the team, and a love in you. “You’re perfect” he says to no one, pressing one last kiss to your hair as he wraps an arm around you, shutting his eyes for the night. “And all mine.”

[sunsetmade]

fic idea.

Reader who was originally a pouge but started dating rafe, the pouges all ignore her and fast forward to whenever she’s married and preggers with rafe idk lol?

Love this idea!! I’m going to do a part two so that will posted tomorrow!

His Pouge

Rafe Cameron x Pouge! Reader

Everyone had something to say about it—about them.

And honestly? She got it.

It wasn’t like she’d planned to fall for Rafe Cameron. Not even close. Growing up on The Cut, the Camerons were more cautionary tale than reality—like whispers in the dark about what happened when you trusted the wrong people. Everyone had a story. Everyone had a warning. And Rafe? He was the one they all swore was too far gone to come back.

So no, falling for him had never been part of the plan.

But plans didn’t mean much when he looked at her like she hung the moon. Like the chaos of the world went quiet when she walked into the room. And when he said her name low and teasing, with that barely-there grin like it was just for her… the edge he wore around everyone else faded into something almost gentle.

Especially when he reached out with that careful touch, like brushing a strand of hair from her face was sacred somehow. Like he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t soft with her.

And now, curled up in the back of his truck—her legs tucked over his, her cheek resting against the worn fabric of his hoodie—it almost didn’t hurt so much. Almost.

“You’re quiet,” Rafe murmured, his fingers grazing lazy patterns against her thigh, just under the hem of her cutoff shorts. “Too quiet. You only get this quiet when you’re either spiraling or trying not to cry. Which is it?”

She didn’t answer right away. The steady drag of his fingertips, the warmth of his chest beneath her cheek—it made it harder to say out loud.

“Pope won’t even look at me,” she whispered eventually, voice barely audible over the crickets in the woods behind them.

Rafe exhaled slowly through his nose. “Yeah.”

“JJ called me a traitor,” she continued, throat tightening. “And Kiara just… walked off. Like I wasn’t even standing there.”

She felt it then—his whole body go taut. The subtle way his arm firmed around her back, the shift of his jaw against the top of her head. He didn’t like her feeling this way. And he definitely didn’t like anyone else making her feel this way.

“They don’t know us,” he said after a beat, voice low, a little rough. “Don’t get it.”

She sat with that for a moment, blinking up at the stars peeking through the tree branches overhead. Her heart ached, not just from the distance between her and the Pogues, but from knowing how easy it was for them to walk away.

“That’s the hardest part,” she said softly. “They don’t want to understand. They’ve already decided I’m wrong for loving you. That you haven’t really changed. But… I know you have.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away. He didn’t have to. She knew what he was thinking. What he was carrying. They both knew the version of him people remembered wasn’t easy to forget. Or forgive.

But she also knew the version of him who made her laugh when she didn’t want to smile. The one who checked her tire pressure because he “didn’t trust that rust bucket” she drove, and who kissed her forehead like it was a promise. He wasn’t perfect. But he was trying. And with her, he was someone softer. Calmer. Safer.

He held her tighter, tucking her closer into his chest like she was something breakable. His nose brushed her hair, his breath steady against her skin.

“You want me to talk to them?” he asked quietly, like he was already ready to go to war for her. “Tell ‘em to back off? Not that it’s any of their damn business—”

“No.” She cut him off gently, leaning back just enough to look up at him. “I don’t want this to be a fight. I don’t want us to feel like we can’t enjoy being together. I don’t want to have to defend us. ”

Rafe frowned, brows pulling together as his eyes searched hers. “You’re hurting,” he said, like it offended him on some deep, personal level. “You shouldn’t be hurting.”

A soft, sad smile tugged at her lips. “I just… I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds. Like I don’t really belong anywhere right now.”

He didn’t speak. Just shifted her fully into his lap, arms wrapped around her waist now, his body shielding her from the world like he could protect her from every sharp word ever thrown her way. One hand reached over to the glove compartment, pulling out the beat-up old lighter he always fidgeted with. He turned it over in his fingers for a second before placing it gently in her palm.

“Here,” Rafe said, his voice quiet as he pressed something small and familiar into her hand. “Click it. You like doing that.”

She glanced down, blinking. It was his lighter—the old beat-up one he always had in his pocket, the one he flicked open and shut whenever he was thinking too hard.

“Rafe…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“You always mess with it when you’re nervous,” he said gently, eyes locked on hers. “Figured it might help.”

Her throat tightened instantly. There it was again—that way he saw her. Not just the parts everyone else noticed. But the quieter things. The little habits. The flickers of anxiety she never spoke out loud.

She took it with careful fingers, the metal cool against her skin. Her thumb slid over the hinge and she clicked it open. Then shut. Then open again. The soft snap echoed in the stillness of the truck cab. And slowly—like turning down the volume on all her noise—the motion started to calm her.

Rafe let her settle into the rhythm for a moment before his nose brushed hers in a soft nudge that made her look up.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmured.

She blinked. “For what?”

“For being brave enough to want what you want.” His lips twitched into the faintest, crooked smile. “Even if it’s complicated. Even if it’s… me.”

Something caught in her chest. Like her heart had hiccupped. The kind of ache that came when someone said the exact right thing at the exact right time and meant every word of it.

Her fingers squeezed around the lighter. “You make it easy to want you.”

His eyes darkened at that—just a little. Enough to make her stomach flip. “Don’t say stuff like that unless you want me to kiss you.”

“I do.” She whispered with a small smile rested on her face.

That was all he needed.

His lips met hers, slow and certain, like he’d been thinking about this moment all day. There was no rush. No frenzy. Just the kind of kiss that felt like a secret—soft, sure, and full of something real.

She melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck like she was afraid he’d slip away. The world outside—the broken friendships, the whispers, the judgment—it all fell away. This didn’t feel like taking. This didn’t feel like a rebellion.

It felt like home.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead stayed resting against hers, breath mingling with hers in the quiet.

“They’ll come around,” he whispered. “And if they don’t, fuck ‘em. I’ve got you.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she even realized they were coming. Rafe caught them gently, wiping each one with the pad of his thumb like they mattered. Like she mattered.

“You’re not alone,” he said, barely louder than the wind outside the window. “Not while I’m around. You hear me?”

She nodded, unable to speak through the knot in her throat.

“And I know I’ve messed up. I know what they say about me.” His hand came up to cradle her jaw, thumb grazing the edge of her cheek. “But with you? I’d never mess that up. I swear I’d never let anyone hurt you. Not even your friends.”

She swallowed hard. “What if they never forgive me?”

“They don’t have to,” he said, without hesitation. “You don’t need to apologize for being happy. You don’t need to feel guilty because your heart picked somethin’ messy. But this?” His voice softened. “You and me? That’s not somethin’ you should be ashamed of.”

Her fingers threaded through his, her grip firm like she finally believed him.

For a long while, neither of them said anything. They just sat in the cab of his truck with the windows cracked, the summer air rustling the trees around them. Her head rested against his shoulder, and his arm held her like he didn’t plan to let go.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple, the softest one yet.

Then he whispered, “Let me take you home.”

She turned her face toward him, brushing her nose against his cheek. “Will you stay?”

His answer was a smile so tender it made her chest ache all over again.

“You don’t even have to ask.”

⸻

The ride to her house was quiet. Music carefully spilling through the radio creating a calming effect.

She leaned against the passenger door, one of his hoodies drowning her frame. It still smelled like him—cologne and campfire and something vaguely like pine. Her fingers were tangled with his across the console the whole time, and neither of them let go, even when he parked.

“You sure you don’t mind staying?” she asked once they were inside, locking the door behind them.

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Just dropped his keys on the counter, kicked off his boots, and gave her that slow half-smile she’d come to recognize as his you’re cute when you worry face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said simply. And meant it.

She offered a small nod and padded toward the bathroom, tugging her hair down from where it had been tied up. He watched her disappear, then looked around the room.

It was small. A little cluttered. A blanket on the couch, half a pack of gum on the coffee table, a mug with a chipped handle by the sink. Her world was lived-in. Warm. So her. No matter how many times he had been in her house it always had the same effect on him.

Rafe had been in hundreds of houses—too big, too polished, too cold—but hers made his chest loosen in a way none of them ever had.

From down the hall, he could hear the soft sounds of her getting ready for bed: the quiet squeak of the faucet, the muffled hum of her toothbrush, the rustle of drawers opening and closing.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with an easy fondness as she moved through her routine. There was something calming about the way she went through each step—methodical, familiar. She didn’t rush. She was just herself. And for once, she wasn’t trying to be okay. She was just being.

She glanced up mid-moisturizer, catching his reflection in the mirror. “You’re staring,” she mumbled through a sleepy smile.

Rafe shrugged. “I like watching you.”

She blinked, cheeks warming. “Doing what? Brushing my teeth?”

“Just being you.” He said it like it was obvious.

She rolled her eyes, but the smile lingered on her lips.

When she was finished, she turned off the bathroom light and walked past him in an oversized t-shirt that hung off one shoulder. Rafe caught her hand before she could pass, tugging her back into him for a second.

“I like this version of you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “The sleepy, makeup-off, extra-cute version.”

She hummed a quiet laugh against his chest. “You’re dangerously close to being sweet again.”

“Shhh.” He grinned. “Don’t ruin my street cred.”

They crawled into bed a few minutes later. She pulled the blankets up around them while he kicked off his jeans, leaving only his t-shirt and boxers before climbing in beside her.

She was still settling when he reached out and pulled her into him—her back against his chest, his arm slipping around her waist. His nose nuzzled into the space behind her ear, warm breath against her skin.

“You always cuddle like you’re afraid I’ll disappear,” she murmured, teasing.

“That’s because I might wake up and find out this was a dream.”

She turned in his arms at that, enough to face him in the dim light spilling through her curtains. His hair was messy, eyes half-lidded, expression softer than anyone else had ever seen on him. She reached up, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead.

“You’re not dreaming.”

He leaned in and kissed her again—just once. Slow. Certain.

She tucked herself against his chest, her legs tangled with his, and his arms wrapped around her like they belonged there.

And when her breathing finally evened out, when she was warm and tucked into his chest, he let his own eyes close—pressing one last kiss to the crown of her head.

She didn’t know it, but that night, Rafe Cameron slept better than he had in years.

Part two is posted!

[makingsenseofwhathappened]

Thinking of telling them to stop?

Let’s say you’re being harassed at work and you're not ready to go to HR or file a complaint. Maybe you’re not sure it “counts" or you’ve heard HR can make things worse (they really can). Or it could be you don’t want a whole investigation stormclouding over your life. You just want it to stop!

Well, you’re not alone. And here’s what to start thinking about before you wander into the wild woods of workplace warbles.

1. Remember: You don’t owe them anything A lot of harassers already know they’re crossing lines. You don’t need to give them a wake-up call. You’re not their coach, therapist, or HR rep. Changing or reprimanding them is not your job.

2. Don’t downplay it just because it’s common Lots of people deal with low-level harassment. Creepy comments, weird touches, “jokes” that cross a line. Just because something isn’t criminal doesn’t mean it’s not harmful. If it’s making your job harder or making you feel unsafe, that’s real.

3. Never do it because someone told you to If a manager or HR person says, “Just go talk to them,” hit the brakes. That’s called informal resolution, and it’s only okay when it’s 100% your choice.

4. You don’t owe them politeness Some people worry about being “mean” when confronting someone. But if someone is making you uncomfortable, it’s not your job to manage their feelings. You can be direct. You can be blunt. You can be cold. You don’t have to soften your boundary.

5. If you’re going to speak up, plan it This doesn’t have to be a big performance. But if you do decide to say something, think it through in advance. Choose a private but safe moment. Keep it short. Say what you need to say and then stop. You don’t owe them a debate.

6. The goal is clarity, not a perfect script You don’t need to give a TED Talk. You just need to be clear. “Don’t touch me at work.” “That joke wasn’t funny.” “This isn’t appropriate.” You can say it in a way that works for you, but the point is: make sure they can’t pretend they didn’t know.

7. Don’t expect an apology Some people will apologize. Some won’t. Some will get defensive or act confused or tell you that you’re overreacting. None of that means you were wrong to speak up. People don’t have to agree with your boundary for you to have one

8. Expect weird reactions Sometimes people apologize. But they tend to deny it, make it your fault, or get icy. That’s not on you. That’s who they are when they’re caught.

9. If it makes you feel unsafe, skip it Talking to a harasser can be risky, especially if they have power over you, or if you think they’ll retaliate. You simply don’t need to light a match to prove there’s a fire.

10. Document it anyway Even if you’re not making a formal report, keep notes. Dates, times, what happened, what was said. If you tell them to stop, write that down too. If things escalate, that documentation can help you later, and you’ll be glad you kept it.

11. You don’t need to forgive Confronting someone doesn’t mean you have to make peace with them. You can ask someone to stop without getting closure. You’re allowed to walk away still feeling angry, shaken, or done. This is about your boundary and not their redemption.

The prime directive: do what keeps you safe That’s it. You aren't required to be brave or “fair.” or, hell, even consistent . You just have to survive this in a way that lets you keep your power intact. Whatever choice helps you do that, that’s the right one!

TL:DR / You want to dig a little deeper, clickarino right here.

Thanks all for reading. I hope my long-ish posts are thought-provoking and problem-solving in some way for some of you out there. Be safe lovelies on your travels 💘

[xiaominghao]

7:55 pm

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Pairing: idol Seungcheol x reader

Warnings: sad cheoli but just briefly, insecurities.

- Yuin’s note: WAKE UP BBY GURL Yuin is no longer under shadowban! So I celebrate this with a drabble I was gatekeeping. This idea came to me after all the problem antis caused with that Cheol fancam on Thunder. One of his best fancam imo, he didn't deserve nothing of what happened :(

After a quiet and somewhat uncomfortable dinner, Seungcheol remained leaning against the kitchen counter with his phone in hand. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye while you washed the dishes; at first you didn’t say anything, but you could tell by his face that something was wrong.

You remained silent about it, maybe he would feel like talking if you give him space. Then, the kitchen was clean and tidy, and you decided it was time to break the ice.

 “Cheol, is everything okay?” you asked suddenly, “you’ve been looking at your phone with the same face for ten minutes.”

“What face?” he asked, oblivious to your question.

“That worried face.”

Seungcheol put his phone aside and lowered his gaze, his arms crossed with little or no intention of talking. You approached him to place your hand in his hair, and your fingers ran through a few strands. That wasn’t solving his problems but at least the tension in the air seemed to ease a little.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “I didn’t mean to worry you…”

“I’m fine,” your calm words seemed to have an effect, and you could see his arms relaxing just a little, “but what about you?”

Seungcheol lifted his face, a little shy, giving a half-smile. “You'll laugh at me when I tell you.”

“Why do you think I’d laugh?” you took his face in both of your hands, thumbs gently caressing his warm cheeks, “you know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know, it’s just that…” he sighed, looking you straight in the eyes. His own looked a bit glassy, as if he’d been holding back the urge to cry for a while. Finally, he took a breath and gathered the courage to ask a question. “Y/n, do you think I should lose weight?”

“No,” you twisted your face, maybe a bit too much as Seungcheol chuckled softly, “you’re strong, healthy, and you look really good.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, “but I guess not everyone thinks the same…”

He glanced at his phone and then back at you. That’s when the pieces connected. You wrapped your arms around his torso in a comforting hug and he did the same, pulling you gently closer as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

Your hands traced small circles on his back as you stayed together, there wasn’t a single sound except for the TV in the background and a very faint sob. You stayed like that, in that heartfelt embrace, for a few minutes.

“Sorry, y/n,” he murmured, pulling away a little, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, “I must look like a fool for caring about something like this…”

“You’re not a fool, you’re just a person,” moving a little closer to him, you gave him a small kiss right at the corner of his eye, the gesture caught him by surprise and you could see the brightness return to his eyes, and the edge of his lips curve up a little. “And you don’t deserve to be sad about something like this.”

“At least you care about that…”

You scoffed, making a little joke. “They’re jealous, because they can’t be as fine as you are.”

Seungcheol stifled his laughter, covering his mouth with a hand, though it was too obvious how shy he felt at that moment. Maybe he’d never get used to your compliments, but he didn’t seem to mind them either.

“Besides,” you added, squeezing his cheeks lightly between your hands, his face looked too adorable not to, “we all love you just the way you are, your family, your friends… And me.”

You leaned in a little and gave him a small kiss on the forehead, standing on tiptoe to do it. He’d never say it out loud, but he really liked that little gesture, though his blushing face and eyes full of love spoke for themselves.

Seungcheol sighed deeply. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he took your hands in his, and left a kiss on your knuckles, “come on, let’s find some dessert and watch a movie.”

[freakmcnastyy]

Weak Hero Boys x P!Reader Headcanons

Weak Hero Class boys x pregnant!reader (fluff)

Includes: Geum Seongjae,Na Baekjin, Ahn Suho, Yeon Si-eun, Kang Woo-young, Oh Beom-seok, Go Hyuntak, Park Humin (Baku)

Note: This was an anon request! AND GOD, I swear writing — let alone reading — stuff like this makes me feel all kinds of weird. And I wrote each character at a different time of day so they wouldn’t all feel the same. Hope I pulled it off.

⸻

Geum Seongjae

1. The Moment He Finds Out:

Silence. He just stares. Then his lip twitches.

The second you tell him you’re pregnant, Seongjae goes quiet for a few seconds. He looks unbothered on the outside, but you know a thousand things are racing through his head. In that moment, his whole “world” shifts.

“I knew no one else could ever give me something like this.”

He says it softly, but something breaks in his eyes — like the idea of ever letting you go has become completely impossible.

2. Possessiveness:

Obsession. Protection. Paranoia.

He’s not just protecting you anymore, but everything you’re carrying inside you. Even the tiniest bit of stress is enough reason for him to lock you in the house. If someone bumps into you by accident? Seongjae might beat them up in the middle of the street without a second thought.

“I better not see you cry again. I’m dead serious.”

Even the dark circles under your eyes feel like a personal insult to him.

3. Physical Obsession:

He’s obsessed with your belly. Every time he talks to you, his hand goes there like a reflex. At night, he lays his head against it and whispers things to the baby. He starts acting like a “family” way before the baby’s even born — but not in a normal way.

“There’s a piece of me inside you. That means you don’t get to leave. Ever.”

4. Jealousy & Going Insane:

Another guy checking you out while you’re pregnant? Your best friend trying to take you out of the house? It’s all a problem. At some point, he might even try to hide the fact that you’re pregnant altogether.

“Don’t wear that. There’s no reason to show your stomach like that. People don’t need to see. That’s mine.”

5. Random Kindness Spikes:

He’ll suddenly start talking about baby room ideas, sweet little dreams, out of nowhere. In those moments he seems normal, like a regular excited dad — but there’s always a breakdown bubbling underneath.

“If it’s a girl, you can name her. But if it’s a boy… I’ll decide.”

6. Before & After the Birth:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more controlling he becomes. He chooses the hospital, who’s allowed in the room, even the nurse that’s going to be with you.

“If anything goes wrong… someone’s paying for it. Got it?”

And after the birth? He isolates you, the baby, and himself like it’s a three-person world. He wants to build everything from zero — just you three.

“It’s only us now. Everyone else out there is dangerous. What else do I need to do to make you understand that?”

⸻

Na Baekjin

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. He masks his emotions, but his pupils shake. After you tell him, he holds your gaze — and stays exactly the same. Cold. Serious. Neither happy nor mad. Then he lowers his head a little.

“Is it mine?”

He trusts you. He does. But he still asks — not because he doubts you, but because he wants to believe so bad it physically hurts. And maybe… because he hates himself a little too much.

2. He Doesn’t Say “I Can’t Be a Dad,” but…

Responsibility? That’s not something he’s ever believed he deserved. He tells himself, “Someone like me can’t raise a child.” But he still parks outside your place every night, just watching. Making sure nothing happens.

“Don’t be alone. I’m behind you like a shadow — just act like I’m not there.”

3. His Way of Protecting You:

Silent. Brutal. Shadowed. Baekjin never publicly claims you. But anyone who threatens you? They start disappearing one by one. He’s given a silent order across the whole Union.

“If anyone even thinks about getting close to her — they better have their grave ready.”

4. How He Sees the Pregnancy:

It’s guilt mixed with obsession. When he sees your belly, his eyes freeze for a second. Because there’s a life inside you — his life — and he’s still struggling to believe something so pure could come from someone like him.

“If I were someone cleaner… maybe we could’ve really had this together.”

Still, his hands always go to your stomach. Every time he touches you, it’s careful. Gentle. Like he thinks you might break.

5. He Cuts You Off From the World:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more he isolates you. Friends? Family? Opinions? None of it matters to him.

“I don’t care what anyone says. If something happens to you… I’ll burn the f*cking world down.”

6. “Family” Becomes Real for the First Time:

Baekjin never had warmth growing up. Never had a real home. But now? Now the idea of building a house — not a place, but a feeling — with you and the baby is something he clings to in the dark. One night, he says without thinking:

“If someone had hugged me growing up… maybe I could’ve loved as good as you do.”

7. After the Baby’s Born:

He’s a wall. Cold, distant. But always there. He won’t hold the baby and coo over it, no. But he stands by the crib at night while you sleep, silently watching the tiny hand curled around his finger.

“Would it be okay… if I picked the name?”

⸻

Ahn Suho

1. When He Finds Out:

Shocked. Eyes wide. “Wait, what? Are you serious?! We’re PREGNANT?!”

At first, it doesn’t compute. He asks you to repeat it like three times. Then his hands start shaking. He might even tear up.

“I’m… I’m gonna be a dad? For real?!”

His first reaction is pure joy — mixed with straight-up panic. He wants to pick you up and spin you around, but the moment you say “Stop, I’m nauseous!” he freezes and immediately puts you down.

2. Ridiculously Affectionate:

He flips into “mom mode” in two seconds. Tries cooking for you, watches YouTube videos on pregnancy massages, double-checks every corner of the house like “is this safe for her? for the baby?”

“No more junk food. Less salt. Sit down, feet up. This baby’s not stressing you out!”

3. Fighting His Own Demons:

Deep down, he thinks, “I didn’t have a good childhood… what if I mess this up too?”

But he never says it out loud. He just holds you at night and whispers to your belly:

“If I raise this baby with someone like you… maybe I won’t mess it up.”

4. Emotional Rollercoaster:

Your hormones? Yeah, his are worse. You cry, he cries. You snap, he sulks — but then brings you a fruit bowl with a pouty face. One time, you probably ended up ugly crying together while eating stuffed grape leaves.

5. Silent Jealousy:

If he sees you talking to another guy? His whole vibe shifts. He won’t say anything, but the pout, the slumped shoulders, the quiet little stares — they’re all there.

“Go out if you want, just… wear something warm. And text me. At every step. I just— I worry, okay?”

6. The Birth Itself:

Sweating. Shaking. Crying. Loving. If they let him in the room, he’s right there, holding your hand like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. If they don’t — he’s on his knees outside the door, praying like his whole soul’s in it.

“You’re both okay, right? Please… that’s all I need.”

⸻

Yeon Si-eun

1. When He Finds Out:

His brain literally freezes for a second before it starts processing. When you say “I’m pregnant,” Si-eun just stares at you in silence. No yelling. No running. No hugs. His hands tremble a little.

“How long has it been? Are you okay? How many weeks?”

He hides his emotions — but every question screams, “I’m scared to death of losing you.”

2. Switches to Practical, Strategic Dad Mode:

Hospital? Booked. Doctor? Researched. Nutrition? Charted. Stress? Monitored.

“You’re not eating anything on this list. I’m serious.”

But also:

“But… if you’re craving something… I kinda snuck in a little chocolate. Please don’t be mad.”

3. He Suppresses Emotion, But Never Leaves You Alone:

He didn’t grow up with love, so he genuinely has no clue how to treat you or the baby. But one thing’s for sure: he’s not going anywhere.

He’s not the jealous type — but he is controlling. He won’t say “who did you hang out with?” but he’ll definitely check your phone later and mentally profile anyone who could hurt you.

“Don’t see anyone who might stress you out. Please. Not for me — for our child.”

⸻

Kang Woo-young

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. Eyes on the floor. Then suddenly, his breath catches. He doesn’t say a word at first — just stares blankly. But if you look closely, you’ll see he literally forgot how to breathe.

“…I’m gonna be a dad?”

His voice shakes, but he tries to play it off. His jaw clenches.

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll figure this out. Just give me a little time.”

And then he leaves — not because he doesn’t care, but because he never planned to build a family. It was always just you and him. But later that night, he comes back. Finds you asleep, puffy-eyed from crying. Slips into bed behind you, holds you tight, buries his face in your neck.

“Don’t ever think you’re alone. No matter what… I’m here.”

2. Shows Love Through Actions, Not Words:

He can’t cook soup, but he’ll leave water by your bed every night. He can’t write you poetry, but he’ll tie your shoelaces without a word. And the first time your belly starts to show, his eyes well up.

“God, this is so weird. But so beautiful.”

3. Protection Style:

Quiet But Deadly.

Someone bumped into you? Woo-young doesn’t say a word. But a few days later, you’ll hear that guy got beat half to death in some underground ring.

He promises no more fights — “for the baby.” But of course he still does it.

4. Obsessed With Your Belly — But Too Shy To Show It:

His eyes keep drifting to your stomach when he talks to you. But he’s too shy to touch it. One night, you place his hand there — and he literally forgets how to breathe. His fingers tremble.

“Did you really love me this much?”

That night, for the first time, he rests his head on your belly and whispers for hours:

“Don’t be like your mom. She’s too soft. This world’s harsh.”

5. Emotional Breakdowns: Silent Crying:

As your pregnancy progresses, every time he feels like he’s not doing enough, tears fall. But he hides in the bathroom so you won’t see.

“I have to be strong. For both of you.”

6. Day of the Birth:

Looks like he just stepped out of a street fight. Doesn’t yell at the doctors, but the fire in his eyes says enough.

7. Fatherhood:

He can’t stop the baby from crying. Can’t change a diaper right. But every single night, he stays up beside the crib. He lets you cry in his lap without saying a word.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here. Always.”

⸻

Oh Beom-seok

1. When He Finds Out:

Stares blankly. He thinks you’re joking at first.

“Wait… are you serious? From me? Like, really…?”

Then his voice breaks. His eyes fill up, but he tries not to cry. Honestly? His world crashes down. Because his dad… well, you know. And it’s not about what’ll happen to him — it’s the fear of something happening to you or the baby.

“I’m gonna… be a dad?”

His voice cracks saying it. Because his father made sure the word “dad” left a scar on his soul.

2. Wants To Run — But Can’t:

In his head: “I’m someone who doesn’t know love, who grew up on violence, who shuts everyone out. What do I have to do with someone like you?”

But leaving you would be death to him. So instead, he goes quiet. Closes in on himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you… so I might keep my distance for a while. But I won’t leave. I promise.”

3. Blames Himself Deeply:

Lays in bed staring at the ceiling every night.

“What if I turn out like him? What if I am him?”

4. Hyper Emotional, Super Fragile:

Every time you’re tired, he blames himself. Don’t feel like eating? He tears up, thinking he messed something up.

“I can’t stand seeing you upset. I’ve already been so awful… don’t turn into me.”

To him, your pregnant body feels sacred. Sometimes he can’t even touch you.

“You’re carrying something inside you now. I don’t even wanna accidentally hurt you. I’m scared.”

6. The Birth:

He breaks. Shaking. Sitting in some hospital hallway, hands covering his face, sobbing like the world’s ending.

“Please… God, please don’t take her from me.”

7. Fatherhood:

Slow, but deeply tender. Doesn’t know how to hold a baby. But watches over yours every second of the night. Talks to the baby while you sleep.

And one day, watching the two of you together — he smiles. For the first time. A real, slow, genuine smile.

“I thought I had no place in this world. But… you gave me a room in it.”

⸻

Go Hyun-tak

1. When He Finds Out:

This man goes feral. In a good way. Just stands there with this shocked, joy-filled smile, completely speechless. Then suddenly:

“Wait WHAT? OUR baby? PROJECT LEBRON JAMES BEGINS!”

2. Protective Soft Side Comes Out:

He shows up for every single doctor’s appointment. Tries to learn everything he can. At home, he leaves little surprises — hot soup, a fruit plate, a stack of pillows. But he does it shyly, almost embarrassed.

“You feeling okay matters more to me than anything.”

3. His Excitement Is Contagious:

Shopping for the baby? He treats it like a mission. Toys, clothes, the perfect paint color for the nursery — he’s got opinions.

“Our baby’s gonna sleep in the nicest room on the block, alright?”

4. Tiny Panic Attacks — But He Bounces Back:

He sometimes spirals like “what if we’re not ready?” But then breathes in, looks at you, and says:

“We’re in this together. No matter what. We’ve got this.”

5. Jealousy Is Soft & Silly:

Sees you chatting with another guy? Pouts a little. Then immediately smiles again.

“Sorry… I just. You’re kinda my whole world.”

6. Birth Time = Full Support Mode:

He’s right beside you, holding your hand, hyping you up with every push.

“You’re strong. I’m right here.”

When the baby cries for the first time, he’s standing right there, trying to feed it with trembling hands.

“Look at our tiny Lebron James.”

7. Dives Into Dad Life Fast:

He’s hungry to learn. Wakes up for every night feeding, writes down every little milestone.

“We’re building something new. You, me, and our baby. It’s gonna be amazing.”

⸻

Park Humin (Baku)

1. When He Finds Out:

He screams. For real. Like he just scored the game-winning goal in the final second. Pure, goofy, chaotic happiness.

2. A Little Insecure:

His relationship with his dad? Yeah. Complicated as hell. He’s terrified of telling him, and even more scared he might turn into him. Just like Beom-seok, he fears becoming a bad father.

3. Quiet, Emotional Protection:

With you? He’s tough. Out in public? He smiles and holds your hand like you’re fragile glass.

“No one’s touching you. Baku’s right here.”

But when he’s alone, his chest aches with the memories of his dad.

4. Tiny Surprises & Care:

You’re tired? He sets up cute little things around the house. Brings your favorite dessert. Buys fresh chicken from your favorite spot.

“I know this isn’t easy… but we’ve got this. Together.”

5. Jealousy & Trust:

Sees you talking to other guys? His eyes tear up — but he never says a word. Keeps it buried.

“Just… understand me, okay? I just wanna protect you.”

6. During Birth:

Nervous as hell but stands strong. His palms sweat like crazy, but he holds your hand the whole time.

“You’re gonna be okay. You and the baby — you’re both okay.”

7. Fatherhood:

Soft. Steady. Scared. But loving. He’s clumsy at first, scared to touch the baby. But he never leaves your side. Stands by the crib every night.

“I’m not just here for you anymore. I’m here for them too.”

[webslinger-holland]

Hii, if you’re willing, could you do the Thunderbolts boys when you two are not dating and arguing but they kiss you to shut you up ? I fear that’s one of my favourite trope 😣 No worries if you don’t want to obviously lol

Prompt: Bucky, John, and Bob kiss you to shut you up during an argument

Warning: none really, just a little heat from an argument

Note: I'm back! I really hope you enjoy this one and send more requests in.

Bucky: The briefing room is cold and silent except for the sound of tension building between the two of you. Bucky leans back against the table, arms crossed over his chest, still in his black tactical suit, dirt and bruises fresh from the mission. His jaw is tight. His eyes are colder than usual.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” you snap, breath shaking as you glare at him. “I’m not your enemy, Bucky. I’m on your side.”

He says nothing and keeps that stoic look on his face like he's unfazed.

“You don't have to do things alone anymore. You left me standing there while you ran headfirst into the middle of it, and I’m supposed to just stand by and watch you get killed?” You trying to help him see reason.

He shifts but still won’t meet your eyes.

“I’m tired of it,” you say, voice rising. “I’m tired of not knowing what you’re thinking. You shut me out every time something gets hard. You don’t let anyone help you. You don’t let me help you.”

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” Bucky finally says, voice flat but low.

You throw up your hands. “That’s not your decision to make—”

“You mean everything to me,” Bucky cuts in, sharper now. His eyes finally lift to yours. “I’m not gonna let something happen to you because of me.”

You take a step toward him. “And I’m not gonna sit here and let something happen to you, but you don’t even let me in long enough to try! You always—” You shake your head, hands clenched at your sides. “You always act like you’re on your own. Like you’re some kind of broken weapon instead of a—”

He moves fast.

One hand cups the side of your face, the other finds your waist, and then he’s kissing you—hard and without warning, swallowing the rest of your sentence like it physically hurt him to hear it.

His lips are warm, the kiss urgent, his breath ragged against your mouth. You stumble slightly but catch yourself on his chest, the cold edge of his vibranium arm brushing your skin.

Your anger falters. Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds.

He pulls back first, still so close you can feel the brush of his breath. His voice drops low. “You done yelling?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “...I might be.”

The corner of his mouth twitches—half smirk, half something softer. “Then come here.” And kisses you again.

John: It wasn’t your first fight and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. Both of you were too stubborn to back down, unable to admit that either of you were wrong. Every mission brought out the worst—and sometimes the best—in both of you. Mostly the worst.

The two of you are nose-to-nose in the hallway, your finger pressed into his chest like it might actually shove him backwards. The tension is crackling between you, loud and electric, almost louder than your voice.

"You’re reckless!" you snap. "You didn’t wait for backup, and we told you the sniper wasn’t alone!"

John scowls, his jaw tight. His eyes are wild with adrenaline, and under the anger is something else—something unspoken, simmering.

“If I hadn’t moved, you’d be the one with a bullet in your leg,” he growls. “But sure—let’s stand around and wait for clearance while you bleed out.”

“I didn’t need you to play hero—”

“You never do, do you?” he bites out. “You can’t admit when you’re scared, or when someone saves your ass, or when—”

“When what, John?” you cut him off, voice sharper than ever. You push harder, taking one single step closer until your chest is flush with his and there’s no room for either of you to breathe. “Go ahead, finish the damn sentence—"

His hand snaps out and grabs your jaw—not rough, but firm, grounding. Before you can fire off another word, he pulls you in and kisses you.

Hot. Hard. Immediate.

Your protest dies in your throat. It knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your hands fist in his shirt—whether to pull him closer or shove him away, you don’t even know. He kisses you like this has been burning a hole in him, like the only way to shut you up was to finally do what he's wanted to do for far too long.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, eyes locked on yours. You can still feel his breath on your lips. You stare at him blankly, wondering what the hell just happened.

“You talk too much,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse.

And then, like he didn’t just rearrange your entire reality, he turns and walks away, leaving you stunned, speechless, and burning in the hallway.

You don't follow. You can't. Not yet.

Bob: The Watchtower is quiet; the night swallowing everything except the low hum of the building around you. A low rumble of thunder sounded in the short distance followed by the soft patter of rain falling over the city.

The doors to the lounge slide shut behind you, and you don’t stop to see who it is because you already know. You haven't stopped moving and your heart won’t either.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you confess, pacing across the room. “You said you'd come to me if you had problems. That if something was bothering you—”

Bob stands just a few feet away. He watches you with wide, guilty eyes, shoulders drawn tight. He doesn’t even look real right now—too still, too statuesque, too… distant.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed space."

“I understand that," you say, turning on him again, voice brittle with frustration and worry that you can’t seem to shake. "I do. I get that sometimes you need air, but you can’t just… you can’t go somewhere I can’t reach you. You can’t leave me behind like that."

He gaze drops away from yours like he's still riddled with his own guilt and can't bare to look at your face. His silence aggravates you slightly.

"You always do this—" you look away yourself, but his gaze flickers up. "You push everything down and you don’t talk to me and—”

“Please—” His voice cracks. His hand reaches out an inch but doesn’t quite make it.

You can’t stop. The panic’s still in your throat, still clawing its way out. “You don’t get to just come back and expect me to be fine, Bob! I care about you too much to just—”

Then suddenly—

His hands are on your face, soft but shaking.

And his mouth is on yours. Then he's kissing you. You melt against him before you can think, before the storm in your chest can catch up.

It’s not rough or hurried. It’s gentle in the way someone kisses glass—terrified of breaking it but too desperate not to try. His lips are warm, his breath shaky, his hands cold against your jaw as he holds you in place like he’s afraid you’ll vanish this time.

You go still. Your breath stutters. But you can’t stop your hands from gripping his arms desperately. The world shrinks to the feel of him—the way he kisses you like he’s drowning, like this is the only thing anchoring him here.

When he finally pulls back, your lips still brush with the ghost of the kiss. His forehead presses to yours. His voice is a whisper—raw, cracked.

“I’m here now," Bob murmurs. "I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes slip shut. Your breathing slows. His does too.

You swallow the knot in your throat and manage, quietly, “I hate when you do that.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But I had to.”

Neither of you have the energy to pull away.

[beatrice-otter]

I think it really helps to understand the Just World Fallacy and why people cling to it so hard.

The Just World Fallacy is the cognitive bias that assures us that the universe is fundamentally just/fair and that people get what they deserve. Good behavior is rewarded and bad behavior is punished. Therefore, if someone is suffering, they deserve it. If they're sick, they must have done something. If they're poor, it's because they don't work hard enough. If they get abused, it's because they didn't stand up for themselves well enough. Conversely, if you are healthy, it's because you're taking care of your body--eating right and exercising. If you are rich, it's because you worked hard. If you have a good life, it's because you deserve it. The world is divided into Good People who have Good Things because they Do Good and thus deserve it, and Bad People who have Bad Things because they Do Bad and thus deserve it.

Of course this is utter nonsense. Most rich people are rich because they come from a rich family or because they happen to get supremely lucky. Most poor people are poor because of marginalization on various axes--come from a poor family, discriminated against because of race/sex/ability/class/sexuality. Most healthy people have good genes and have never had a major accident; most disabled or chronically ill people are sick/disabled because of a combination of genetics, environment, and accident. Anybody can be abused or manipulated in the wrong circumstances; being smart and strong will usually not save you.

But oh, we want to believe that the universe is fair and that the good things in our lives happen not through random chance, but because we earned it. If we earned it, we control it, we can make sure things stay good ... and if we have bad luck, then we will be able to overcome it and triumph and any bad times will be strictly temporary. We want to believe that when people suffer it's their own fault, because then we can protect ourselves from suffering.

(And it also means we can also stop feeling bad for people or working for a better world because if they suffer it's their own fault. Very convenient.)

The Just World Fallacy is comforting, but it blinds us to the reality of the world, and it blinds us to the true reasons suffering exists. And if we can't recognize what's actually going on--if we assume that people who suffer or have bad health are suffering because they're Bad and it's a punishment from the universe--we will stay trapped in the same old prejudices and the same old injustices.

if you're serious about unlearning ableism (and other bigotries like fatphobia or classism) then you've got to decouple any morality from health. i mean by removing the idea of "good health" and "bad health". people can be unhealthy without that health being "bad". and people can be healthy without that health being "good". in a moral sense. because even if that might not be the primary intention of the wording, it is the implicit message that permeates down into a huge swath of judgements we make about other people

[thatonegrimm]

Hello !! I love your writing style and the stories you write so so much, the one where manager!reader had to teach the boys how to use a phone was so so funny, thank you for writing :)

Could I request manager!reader getting jealous of the saja boys? It sounds so cliche but I really wanna see their manager getting all pouty and sulky when they see the boys interact with a fan or huntr/x in a specfic way!!

Maybe a fan was touching them too much to the point where its really becoming too excessive and their manager was starting to get pissed off but when they look back at the boys just smiling at said fan, they think 'Oh. Ok fine i was getting sll worked up over nothing wtv guys'. Or they see clips of saja boys x huntr/x getting all chummy and teasing eachother(or threatening to end one another), their manager feels ache in their heart and they cant quite distinguish the cause.

Anw!! thats my req :D sorry if its a little long</3 Make sure you drink enough water and get enough sleep btw!

HELLO!! 💖 First of all—thank you SO MUCH for your kind words!! Seriously, hearing that you loved the phone fic means the world to me 😭💕 I am honored to deliver manager!reader chaos at your service.

(Also thank you for the reminder to drink water—I desperately needed it)

🌙Saja Boys x Jealous!Manager Reader

It’s not personal. You’re just their manager. You just happen to want to throw a clipboard at anyone who touches them.

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

🧿 Jinu

You’re watching the fan meeting from the sidelines, trying to stay focused on timing and cue cards.

Then it happens.

A fan leans in, gets too close, touches Jinu’s sleeve—twice. She giggles and brushes her fingers up his arm. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t recoil. Just gives that quiet, tight smile like he’s trying to be gracious.

You feel your stomach turn.

You glance back at your clipboard. Re-read the same sentence three times. Pretend not to see it when the fan puts a sticker on his cheek and he doesn’t even flinch.

You tell yourself it’s fine. He’s fine. This is your job.

Still, when he passes you afterward, your tone is short. Clipped. Tense.

“Make sure to sanitize before the next group.”

Jinu hesitates, then follows you. Quietly.

Later, backstage:

“Are you upset with me?” he asks gently.

“No. Just... managing things.”

He tilts his head. “You looked upset. When she touched me.”

You freeze.

He watches you for a second longer, then, voice lower:

“I didn’t enjoy it. You know that, right?”

You blink. “You smiled.”

“I was being polite. But if it had been anyone else, I’d have said something.”

Your heart skips.

“And if it had been you... I wouldn’t have needed to.”

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

💪 Abby 

You’re doing post-show rounds when a fan wraps her arms around Abby like she knows him. Like they’re friends. Her hands press low against his back, lingering.

He hesitates—just a second—but his natural instinct kicks in. He smiles. Says thank you. Doesn’t pull away immediately.

You do.

“Okay, folks, let’s move it along,” you call out, voice a little too loud.

Abby doesn’t say anything at first.

But later, while you’re sorting backstage logistics, he appears next to you with two bottled waters and a slightly furrowed brow.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“You seemed... mad. When that fan hugged me.”

You pause. Avoid his eyes. “It was too much. That’s all.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then offers the water like a peace offering.

“I didn’t like it either,” he says, almost shyly.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird. But I should’ve.”

Then—so softly you almost miss it:

“You always notice stuff like that. It makes me feel really... cared for.”

You blink.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Is it okay if I care back?”

You don’t answer. You just take the water—and let your fingers brush his on purpose.

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

📚 Mystery 

You’re reviewing fan footage. Just checking social engagement. Totally normal manager stuff.

Then the clip plays.

Mystery standing beside Zoey during a group shoot. She nudges his shoulder. He smirks. She laughs. He looks at her like she said something clever, and your heart clenches.

You pause the video. Rewind. Watch it again.

“It’s fine,” you whisper to yourself. “It’s just work. They’re professionals.”

But something aches. The way he looked at her—it was barely a change, but you’ve watched him long enough to notice the difference.

You shut your laptop harder than necessary.

Later, while you’re handing out notes, he hovers beside you.

“Your energy’s off,” he murmurs.

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t push.

But that night, he finds you alone on the rooftop, headphones in. You pretend not to notice him until he sits beside you, silent.

“I don’t smile at them like I smile at you,” he says softly.

You freeze.

“I know you saw it. But it wasn’t the same.”

You don’t know what to say.

He leans in just slightly.

“If you want me to stop being close with them, I will.”

“Why?”

“Because I like how you look when you’re jealous. And I like how I feel when I see you watching.”

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

💋 Romance 

You’ve always known Romance flirts. It’s his whole deal.

But there’s something different about the way he interacts with Huntrix. The banter with Mira. The way he tosses his head back laughing when Rumi calls him dramatic. The gentle way he calls Zoey “sunshine.”

It’s not fake. That’s what’s killing you.

You try to play it cool, but your answers get shorter. You dodge eye contact when he winks. You stop bantering back.

He notices.

Oh, he notices.

After a press event, he corners you near the exit, gaze sharp.

“You’re quieter lately.”

“Busy,” you lie.

“Liar,” he purrs, stepping closer. “You saw the videos, didn’t you?”

You shrug.

He leans in.

“You know none of them can get under my skin like you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter.

His smile fades for half a second.

Then he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, voice velvet and low:

“Then let me prove it. One night. No cameras. Just you and me. Say yes, and I’ll forget every name that isn’t yours.”

You pretend to scoff.

But your pulse is thundering.

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

🔥 Baby

You know Baby gets fan attention. He’s got that whole dangerous-pretty-boy thing going.

But today? It crosses a line.

Someone flirts with him. Obvious. Bold. Says something that makes you blush just hearing it.

And Baby smirks back.

You feel like someone just hit you with a fire extinguisher to the chest.

You pretend not to care. Pretend not to flinch when they brush past you. Pretend not to feel that sting when he just stands there and lets it happen.

Later, you pull him aside. Not in anger—just to regroup. To reset.

“Be careful with that,” you say, quieter than usual.

“With what?”

“Flirting. Fans get attached.”

He watches you for a moment. Says nothing.

Then he pulls something out of his pocket. A note. Folded.

“They gave me this.”

You don’t look at it.

He drops it in the trash.

“I didn’t keep it. Didn’t want to.”

You blink.

He shrugs, scowling a little.

“Why would I, when you’re the only person who actually makes me feel anything?”

You open your mouth.

He walks away before you can reply.

Later, you find your name saved in his phone under “🔥 REAL ONE.”

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

M-List

[bonejunky6669]

i just watched a tiktok analysis of The Locked Tomb's parallels to Lolita and holy shit. It's really mind blowing. i will never get over just how many layers upon layers of references and complexity there are in these books.

anyways the video really helped me realize why John has always majorly creeped me out. when i started getting in the tlt fandom here on tumblr after reading all three books i was a little surprised (but ig not that surprised because it kind of happens with all fandoms) by how many people love John and how...babygirl-ified he is. i found John very creepy and disingenuous in HTN, and i absolutely despised him by NTN. he's a sociopath and a truly horrible person hiding behind a mask of someone who is "eccentric" and "goofy dad energy" and "just trying to do whats best". I didn't feel like i was reading about John, i felt like i was reading about a silly and unthreatening persona named something silly and unthreatening like Jod. he's certainly an interesting character, and i love the way he's written, but i truly hate him as a person.

i also couldn't really put my finger on why all of his interactions with Harrow made me so uncomfortable, and this video really made me realize why. It's obvious that he is grooming Harrow throughout all of HTN (though, for what exactly? a stronger lyctor? a devoted follower? a person who views abuse and group sex as the norm?) and I realized that all of the contexts in which he refers to Harrow as his "daughter" are the wrong contexts to have a "daughter". He writes J+A in the sand, John plus the woman he was in love with, and proceeds it with J+H?? gross. so many of his interactions with harrow have this very surface level father-and-daughter-ness to them, which is purely because of the language John uses. when you stop listening to his words and only pay attention to his subtle actions and contexts he uses, John is a pathetic man with a power fantasy, and also a creep. he doesn't mean "daughter", he means "something I created. person I control." and as pointed out in the video, similar the Humbert Humbert's fantasy in Lolita about having a child with Dolores and turning that child into the next "Lolita".

also, Tazmiurs short story The Magicians Apprentice that she wrote before TLT? the relationship between the magician and the girl in the story is very similar to John and Harrow- which, if you go read the story or at least watch this tiktok and listen to the quotes from it- is disturbing to say the least. the parallels between eating, and the taking of ones childhood, and the eating of flesh and the eating of ones childhood is very horribly present. it almost makes me wonder if Nona's aversion to eating could be connected to this as well. (and even if some of this isn't intentional, i still think its interesting to be able to draw these parallels between all of these stories and try to make sense of the beautiful mess that is The Locked Tomb).

don't forget he also takes in Gideon, changes her name, and grooms her to be something that she isn't as well.

but the moment i truly started despising John was when he destroyed the earth, took its soul and made it into a woman, and made that woman his love. jesus christ.

i saw another tiktok about the potential that the wedding in ATN could be between John and Harrow...taking into account the Little Mermaid references (the original Little Mermaid, where the prince marries a nun instead of the mermaid) as well as all of the grooming John put Harrow through and the way he inserts Harrow as a stand-in for Alecto within his memories...yeah... literally my worst nightmare omg Gideon please kill your dad

i definitely recommend you watch these videos and look up other peoples opinions about these parallels because I'm kind of just repeating what they said and they'll certainly be more coherent than me lol

links to the videos:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8hd8wR7/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8hd8aRf/

[cloudcountry]

how would they react to mc giving them a nickname fitting to the one they give you? like clover for towa, prince for haku, d̶e̶l̶i̶n̶q̶u̶e̶n̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ l̶e̶o̶ for example? towa, haku, haru, lyca, jin, jiro (for jiro i imagine something in complete opposition to the monster/frankenstein names hes called)

SUMMARY: you give them an affectionate pet name ... how do they react?

COMMENTS: i only write for five characters in a request so i kicked jin off. couldnt come up w a nickname for him anyway...he'll be fine. (✿◡‿◡) i wrote these with romantic undertones!!

The first time you call Haru sunshine he almost doesn’t process it fully. Runs out the door with a swift bahnti! and comes back no less than twenty seconds later after checking half the exhibits to frantically ask you if he was hallucinating.

This is one of the best things that has ever happened to him. He lights up when you confirm that you gave him such a sweet nickname—this means he’s special to you, right? Well you’re special to him too!

If you dare, the next time you call him that, you should pair it with a soft laugh and a gentle touch on his bicep. He’s gone. Haru is a lovesick puddle on the floor!

Towa’s dramatic ass is never letting you live this down. You called him clover? He’d better be your four leaf one. And yes, he does mean your four lead clover, who else’s? (Don’t say Haru, he'll pout at you.)

The thing is, Towa will take this as a sign that he can cling to you all he wants and get away with it. Who is going to stop him? Coriander can’t, Haru won’t, Wolfsbane just gags and leaves you to your cuddly fate.

Be ready to tell him how great he is and shower him the compliments he so obviously craves. Pair it with your soft touch and he’ll drop his whole body weight onto you like an oversized cat.

Haku is seconds away from pulling a just kidding out of his ass, but the words get caught in his throat when you call him your prince. You’re playing along with him for the very first time—what a rush.

Despite the fact that he was the first one to give you a nickname, he laughs it off and reminds me that most guys would take that the wrong way, so you should be careful. Right, because he isn’t taking it the wrong way. Of course. He’s so normal about this.

Haku, to his core, is another lovesick boy. You do strange things to his heart and even if he tries to play it off as a joke, he really does think you’re cute. Maybe it’s fate that he met you—now if only he could save you from your curse like a proper prince.

Something simple is most effective with Lyca! Call him hon or sweetpea and watch him perk up. He does find it a bit embarrassing (and he’ll bite Edward’s head off if he says anything) but don't stop.

He naturally takes care of you—making sure you’re eating enough, buying you little things he knows you like, paying for your food—so getting that extra pet name boost is like a genuine award to him.

Honestly, he might take it as platonic at first. Lyca is a bit dense in matters of the heart, but once he goes to Subaru and has to watch as his face dawns in understanding, maybe he will understand too.

The first time you called Jiro angel, it was offhanded. You’re not sure why it slipped out. Much to your relief he simply hands you what you were asking for and walks off. You’re left standing there in front of one of Mortkranken’s lab tables with the taste of angel still on your tongue.

Later, Yuri storms up to you and starts hollering about public displays of affection and indecency, lecturing you thoroughly. It’s so much that you can barely get a word in. It isn’t until Jiro and you cross paths again that you realize what happened.

Jiro, point blank, tells you he asked Yuri for clarification on why you had called him angel. It obviously isn’t a bad thing, and he is familiar with nicknames, but no one has called him something so kind before. (Psst, he likes it.)

[enhazy]

Does the offer still stand?

non-idol!Jay × reader, featuring non-idol!Jake

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

part two: what a night.

content warnings: NONCON, reader is intoxicated and unconscious, voyeurism (Jake watches), somnophilia, public sex, poorly written car sex, coercion(?), implications of drugging, masturbation (m!receiving), unprotected sex, tummy bulge, Jake knows it's wrong yet still watches, not proofread

Don't like? Don't read. Seriously. Nobody is forcing you to read this.

MDNI

word count: 1,308

likes, reblogs, and feedback would be appreciated!!

DISCLAIMER:

I am not responsible for the content you consume. Content warnings are listed above (I may have missed something), please read thoroughly so you know what to expect. This is very very dark and I do NOT condone these things to happen in real life. THIS IS A FANFICTION WHICH MEANS IT DOES NOT DEPICT HOW JAKE AND JAY ARE IN REAL LIFE.

ฅᨐฅ notes: took inspiration from that taxi scene in 'No Way Out', wrote this in one go so I think it's kind of shit 😞

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

As a taxi driver, Jake liked to think he's seen all different kinds of passengers. He usually drove at night so he'd meet drunkards who vomited on his lap when they leaned over the center console to pay him, unconscious people whose friends entrusted him to get them home safely, stoners, shady drug dealers, people beat up, sober couples mad at each other, and even an old lady with dementia wandering the streets at night convinced she was still in World War II.

But nothing could prepare Jake for what he'd see this night. A well-dressed man called him over with an elegant wave of a hand, Jake didn't hesitate to pull over right in front of him. The man looked rather breathless—like he'd ran a marathon before deciding he gave up and just wanted to hail a taxi home. He had a half-conscious girl tucked under his arm.

Jake flashed him a smile as the mysterious man gently placed his lady, 𝘺𝘰𝘶, into the backseat before getting in himself after he properly settled you.

"All good, mate?" Jake asked, glancing at the man through the rearview mirror. The man clenched his jaw but nodded, looking down at the sleeping girl leaned on him.

Jake didn't stop taking glances at the man, he had this weird 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 feeling in his gut that told him something was going to happen. And his passengers would be involved in it. Jay seemed guarded, a protective hand over your thigh. He seemed like he was waiting for something.

𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱? Jake thought. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯.

Jake glanced once more and met the man's hard stare already on him, the former made the mistake of not looking away as quick as he should have—nervously gulping at the latter's brow raise.

"You've got a problem, 𝘣𝘳𝘰?" The way the man said it sent a shiver down Jake's spine, it was all but friendly.

"I'm Jake." He found himself introducing. The man tilted his head, still locking eyes with Jake. "Jay." The silence was deafening after they exchanged names, but Jay ultimately broke it, speaking with such coldness Jake was sure if Jay spoke enough it'd stop global warming.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦."

"No." The nervous driver cleared his throat, willing his nerves not to seep into his voice. "No problem. Not— not at all. Just..."

"Just 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?"

"Just... admiring you and your pretty lady." Jake replied, unable to come up with a better excuse. 𝘈𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘑𝘢𝘬𝘦? 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘢—

"Wanna have a go at her?" Jay asked, cutting Jake's train of thought. Jake's widened eyes met Jay's lustful, hooded ones in the rearview mirror.

A minute passed by, then another. Jake's eyes flitted from the road to the rearview mirror where Jay's stare didn't stop, the driver's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"Fine. Don't say I didn't offer you anything." Jay chuckled, the sound sounding rich and honeyed. Jake let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, looking away from the mirror when Jay started stripping your skimpy dress off of your unconscious body.

Jake looked at the scene happening behind him through the rearview mirror, fixing the mirror so it'd face more of you and Jay. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱, he thought, but he didn't ignore the hunger throbbing in his pants. Jake whined as he watched Jay worship your body, pressing wet kisses everywhere his lips could touch.

Jay met Jake's eyes through the rearview mirror and the latter immediately pulled over. You didn't stir, you didn't move, you didn't even make a sound. But the scene was straight out of a porno and Jake is a 𝘮𝘢𝘯, he's going to watch, even if it seemed wrong.

The older didn't wait any longer, greedy hands grabbing and groping at your soft skin, littering your skin with marks from his mouth and hands. Jake's eyes didn't stray from the sight, palm pressed on the obvious bulge of his pants.

Jay fixed your position in the backseat, making sure you laid limp on your back so he could situate himself above you. Jake fumbled with his belt when Jay started to forcibly make out with you, the latter had his rough hand squeezing your face to create a pout—which he kissed, licked, bit, and prodded at with his tongue.

Half of your face was slathered with spit, shining beautifully as the streetlights shone through the car windows and lit your face up. Jay and Jake groaned at the sight, the latter already having his hand wrapped around his girthy cock, squeezing.

Jay hastily shoved three fingers inside your dry heat, the action was surely painful and you proved so when you squirmed slightly, a broken whimper leaving your lips, that broke Jake out of his trance.

"Doesn't that—𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘩—doesn't that hurt?" Jake asked, still fucking his fist. Jay ignored him, roughly plunging his fingers in and out until he felt that the slide became easier instead of constricting.

"Did you drug her?" Jake asked breathlessly, starting to realize how sick this was but that didn't stop him from chasing his high. Jay ignored him, again, which annoyed Jake to no end. But he didn't get to say anything since Jay has pushed the car door open.

"Jay! Where—where do you think you're go—𝘰𝘩."

Jay stood outside the car, grabbing your legs and pulling you down to the edge of the seat. They were still in the street so Jay 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 someone might see, but the thought didn't stop him. Jake scrambled to get out of the drivers seat, pushing the door open and nearly choking himself as he tried to climb out without unbuckling his seatbelt, he quickly did so before running around the car where Jay stood.

Jay glanced at the taxi driver, glancing down before chuckling and undoing his pants enough to get his cock out.

𝘑𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵. He was too irrational and horny to think about that right now, immediately starting to jerk off once Jay lined himself up to your entrance. Jay pushed inside in one thrust, setting a slow pace so he could enjoy the sight of your unmoving body taking his cock in like a fuck toy would. Jake moaned at the sight, walking closer to Jay until they were shoulder to shoulder—though Jay was slightly taller.

Jake moved his hand around his desperate cock at the same pace Jay moved in and out of you. Slow and steady at first, then fast and rough in just a matter of seconds. Moans and groans could be heard echoing out in the streets, the men's filthy sounds incredibly loud while nothing could be heard from you.

Jay's grip on your hips was tight, an angry red color already blooming on your skin from how tightly he gripped you. Jake could only imagine how tight you felt, cursing himself for rejecting Jay's earlier offer. Jay grunted, letting one hand leave your hip to hold the car door, grounding himself. Jake was whining at this point, desperately getting off to the sight of your pretty cunt engulfing Jay's cock like it belonged there.

Neither Jay's nor Jake's eyes drifted away from your pussy, your arousal made itself known through the squelching sounds it'd produce whenever Jay thrusted. There was a prominent bulge on your abdomen and Jake used his free hand to press down on it, earning an appreciative, animalistic groan from Jay.

Jay continued his assault on you whilst Jake watched, both groaning out profanities as they released—Jay inside you, while Jake on your abdomen. The driver squeezed his cock, looking at the older, who was already looking at him, breathing heavily.

"𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

ฅᨐฅ notes: there may or may not be a part 2 👀 (what was this? 😭)

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

taglist:

@chuuyaobsessed, @choeryyxyz, @engeneheree

[syrecjh]

Wait hold up Bakugo getting ready for a photo shoot and starts bonding with reader who’s his stylist then it becomes smth special and cute pls? 🫣

The thing about Katsuki Bakugo is—he burns through stylists like wildfire.

Too loud. Too blunt. Too impossible to please. The industry’s learned to send their best, their most patient, their most fearless. But none of them ever lasted past two shoots. Some didn’t even last through the fittings.

Until you.

Your name wasn’t recommended—it was thrown like a Hail Mary across a room of overworked interns and desperate agencies. You’d worked with chaotic models before, but Bakugo wasn’t just chaos. He was precision rage. Fire in designer boots. But you had a fire of your own, and the first time he scowled at you for holding a comb wrong, you scoffed and told him to grow a better personality. He blinked. Then laughed. Then stayed still while you fixed his collar like nothing had happened.

And now? Two years later? You’re still here.

Today’s shoot is for a Pro Hero Legacy Spread, something bold and modern — “icons of the generation,” the magazine called it. But Bakugo couldn’t care less about metaphors and fashion lighting. All he knew was: it was hot, it was early, and his stylist—his stylist—was one minute late.

He stood in the prep room, arms crossed, scowling at the mirror. “Where the hell is she? Dead in a ditch or just incompetent?”

The assistant made a sound of terror.

Then—click. The door creaked open. And there you were, clutching your coffee and your notes, a devil-may-care grin on your lips as if you hadn’t just kept Dynamight himself waiting.

“One minute and thirteen seconds,” he snapped, turning with that signature glower.

“Wow, you counted?” you replied, breezing past him and setting your things down. “That’s the most attention you’ve given anyone all week.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe because no one else annoys me this much.”

“And yet,” you said, brushing a lint roller down his shoulder, “I’m still your favorite.”

He scoffed, but didn’t move when your hand grazed his jaw to adjust the angle of his collar. His skin was warm, always warm, like static lingering in the air between you both.

“Today’s concept is stripped back,” you murmured, focused on the minute details. “Minimal armor. Just you. Nothing flashy.”

He looked at you through the mirror. “So just me being awesome.”

“Sure,” you said with a smirk. “If awesome means frowning at the camera like it owes you money.”

He chuckled—chuckled, low and brief—and let himself be turned this way and that as you styled his hero jacket half-open, hair tousled perfectly to match the theme.

As you moved around him, laying the outfit across the dressing bench and flipping open your toolbox of styling essentials, he followed your every motion like you were a problem he hadn’t quite solved. You knew he hated this part—the prep, the waiting, the fussing. But with you, it was different. Always had been.

"Sit," you said, tapping the chair lightly with your nail. And—miracle of miracles—he did.

The moment you stepped in front of him, his eyes flickered upward. They always did. You weren’t sure if it was habit or curiosity, but you could feel the way his gaze tracked the shape of your concentration.

You adjusted the collar of his suit, your knuckles brushing against the line of his throat. His skin was warm. He didn’t flinch.

“Your hair’s a disaster,” you mumbled, reaching for a pomade jar.

“It’s always like this.”

“Yes, and I’m always fixing it. You’d think you’d be grateful.”

He huffed, but he was fighting a smirk. “Grateful’s a stretch.”

You slicked his ash-blonde hair into place—fingers threading through the strands, shaping the chaos into something sculpted. Somewhere in the middle of it, you heard him murmur, “You’ve got good hands.”

You blinked. “What?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. “Nothin’.”

You pressed your lips together to stifle a grin.

When you moved to fix his gloves—adjusting the fit so the metal knuckles didn’t crease weirdly for the camera—he watched you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Then came the final piece: the belt. You crouched slightly, tugging at the strap, tightening it so it didn’t ride awkwardly on his hips. That’s when he said it.

“You always do this,” he muttered.

You didn’t look up. “Do what?”

“Make me look better than I am.”

That silenced you for a beat.

You rose slowly, brushing nonexistent lint from his chest, and fixed his collar again, even though it was perfect.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered. “I just make sure they see you like I do.”

He stared at you. Really stared.

And when you picked up the finishing spray and said, “Close your eyes, Dynamight,” he didn’t argue. Just obeyed—like the moment belonged to you, and he knew it.

When the mist settled and the clock ticked closer to shoot time, he opened one eye and said, too quietly to be teasing:

"Don’t ever quit on me.”

You smiled then. Wide and crooked. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

And somehow, in the hush between hairspray and headlines, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.