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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 2 days ago

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Bob Reynolds X F!Reader: Warm Waters

Warnings: smut, pool sex, established relationship, fluff, kissing, cursing, no use of y/n, semi public sex (sort of), porn with some plot.

Word count: 1.7K

“I didn’t know we had a pool.”

“Neither did I, until last week.”

“How did you find it, anyway?”

“I fell into it during flying practice.”

You turned to look at Bob, brows raised in alarm. He didn’t seem to notice—too preoccupied with arranging his book and towel on the pool chair.

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?”

Bob turned to look at you in surprise. You sounded a bit angry, and that confused him. He hadn’t expected you to care so much—not about the pool, anyway.

“I didn’t think you’d care. I mean—it’s just like any old pool.”

You let your mouth hang open for a moment before speaking.

“No, Bob. Not about—Jesus Christ—not about the pool. About you falling during flying practice!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” You threw your hands up. “Were you just not gonna tell me?”

Bob shrugged.

“Didn’t really think about it. Didn’t seem important, I guess.”

You let out a sound of outrage.

“You fell from the sky, Bob. You could’ve gotten really hurt.”

“Not really. I’m—well, you know.” He gave you a shy smile. “Kind of invincible.”

You gave him a stern look.

“Even if that were true, I still want you to tell me this stuff.”

You were pouting. You knew you were, but you couldn’t help it. You worried about him—because you loved him. Bob knew as much, but he was still growing accustomed to this whole relationship thing.

Bob scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure what to do with himself now. He wasn’t used to people getting upset over him. Not like this. Not with that tight line of your mouth and the way your arms were crossed defensively over your chest.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything,” you muttered, your voice quieter now.

Bob gave you a sheepish grin. “Being invincible has its perks, I guess.”

You shook your head, stepping closer until the tips of your toes nearly touched his.

“I still hate that you didn’t tell me.”

Bob nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours. “I’m sorry.”

The apology was soft, sincere—and when his hand brushed yours, it lingered. A subtle touch, but enough to make your pulse skip.

“I accept your apology,” you whispered as you leaned your face closer to his.

Bob smiled as your lips met his, his hand moving to cup your cheek. The kiss was soft, almost shy—like he wanted to memorize the feel of your lips against his. When you finally pulled away, it was with a quiet breath and your forehead resting against his. You pulled back just enough to look at him.

“So… we’re going in, or what?”

“Ladies first.”

You gave him a knowing look.

“You’re just scared it’ll be cold.”

Caught. Bob flushed, but you just laughed, moving to tug off your shirt. Bob’s eyes trailed over your bikini-clad body. And then, in one rapid movement, you rushed to the pool and jumped. Water splashed onto Bob’s feet as your body sank beneath the surface.

When you popped back up, he was still standing there, looking at you with wide eyes.

“You coming in or what?” you asked, treading water near the edge of the pool.

He nodded, trying to act nonchalant as he pulled his shirt over his head and kicked off his shoes. You caught yourself watching him too—his shoulders, the stretch of his back, the soft muscle that came from the medical experiment. And from training with you.

He stepped into the water with a soft hiss. “It’s cold.”

You grinned. “You’re such a baby.”

Bob waded in deeper, shivering slightly as he approached you.

“Not a baby. Just aware of my nerve endings.”

You splashed him before he could say anything else, laughing as he blinked water out of his eyes with a betrayed expression.

“Oh, it’s like that?” he asked, his voice rising in mock offense.

Before you could respond, he lunged—sending a wave straight into your face and catching your waist at the same time. You shrieked and tried to push him off, but he was already laughing, water sloshing around you both as you grappled in the shallows.

It turned into a game—splashing, dodging, teasing. At one point, he tried to dunk you and you nearly took him down with you. When you finally called a truce, both of you were breathless, cheeks flushed, hair wet and stuck to your foreheads.

“Okay,” you gasped, brushing your fingers through your soaked hair. “That was rude.”

Bob leaned back against the pool edge, arms stretched out along the ledge, looking unbearably pleased with himself.

“I think I won.”

You swam closer, standing between his legs, your hands resting lightly on his knees beneath the water.

“Oh, you think so?”

“I know so.”

There was something different in the way he said it. Playful, yes—but his eyes lingered a little longer now, dropping to your mouth, your collarbone, then back up. The air between you felt heavier somehow, charged.

“Be honest,” you said after a beat, your voice softer now. “You brought me out here just to see me in a bikini.”

Bob laughed, embarrassed but not denying it.

“I mean... it’s not the only reason.”

“Mhm.” You pretended to consider it. “Guess I’ll allow it.”

The smile that broke across his face was boyish, bright, and achingly sweet. You felt it somewhere deep in your chest.

“I like this,” he said, voice low. “You. Here.”

“Yeah?” you asked, voice light. But something in your tone had changed. You saw the way his jaw flexed, how his breath hitched.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You reached for his waist beneath the water, your fingers gliding along his skin. His muscles jumped beneath your touch, and when you leaned in to press your mouth to his—slow, warm, wet—he didn’t pull away.

Bob’s breath hitched when you pressed in again, your body slick against his under the water. His hands were tentative at first, but they found their place—one at your lower back, the other skimming beneath the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

You bit your lip, half from the sensation and half from watching him—his lashes wet, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling with every shallow breath.

“I—” he started, but you cut him off with another kiss. Deeper this time. Tongue sliding against his, teasing, tasting.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you murmured against his lips. “I want you to.”

His grip tightened at your hips like a reflex. You wrapped your legs around him, anchoring yourself to him in the waist-deep water. The pressure was sudden, delicious—his swim trunks did little to hide how hard he was getting. He groaned when your core brushed against him. He guided you to the edge of the pool, your back against the warm tile, his body between your thighs.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” you asked, grinding slowly against him.

Bob nodded, almost dazed, his eyes fixed on your mouth like he couldn’t look away.

“Been thinking about it since I offered to show you the pool.”

“Yeah?” you asked, lips ghosting against his skin.

“Don’t do that,” he breathed, his hands tightening on your waist beneath the water.

“Do what?” you said innocently, tilting your head, playing coy.

“Act like you don’t know what you do to me,” he said, voice rougher now, like he was losing control one word at a time.

You smiled at that.

“Oh yeah?” You kissed along his jaw, whispering, “Then show me.”

Bob reached between you, tugging your bikini bottom aside just enough, his fingers slipping through your folds. The water helped, but you were already soaked in a way that had nothing to do with the pool. His fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had your knees weakening fast.

Your moan was soft, but needy. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he breathed. “I won’t stop.”

He kissed you again, and this time there was no hesitation. Just hunger. Tongue and teeth and heat. His fingers kept working you open, sliding inside, curling just right, and you bucked against him, eyes fluttering closed.

“Need you,” you said, desperate now, grinding against his fingers. “Please.”

You reached down and palmed him through his swim trunks, feeling the thickness of him, the way he twitched under your touch. Bob groaned into your mouth, hips jerking into your hand.

“You want me?” he asked, voice thick with heat. “Here? In the pool?”

You nodded, unable to speak. Too full of want.

Bob shifted just enough to get his swim trunks down, freeing himself beneath the water. You felt the head of him press against your entrance, thick and hot, and your legs tightened instinctively around him. The stretch was slow at first, delicious and deep, and Bob buried his face in your neck with a strangled sound as you took all of him in.

“Holy shit,” he panted. “You feel—fuck—you feel incredible.”

You rocked your hips, water sloshing around you both. The heat, the pressure, the feeling of him filling you—it was overwhelming. Perfect.

“You’re so deep,” you moaned. “Right there, Bob—please—”

He found a rhythm quickly, hips snapping forward, hands gripping your waist to anchor himself. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the water, mixing with your gasps and his low groans. It was messy, wet, desperate—but so fucking good.

“Touch yourself for me,” he whispered. “I wanna see you come.”

Your hand slid between your bodies, fingers circling your clit as he fucked into you. You were close already, the angle, the friction, everything too perfect. His thumb joined yours, rubbing tight circles that sent you spiraling.

“Fuck—Bob—I’m gonna—”

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And with a cry, you did. Your orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over you with blinding heat. Your walls clenched around him, and that’s all it took—Bob cursed, his rhythm faltering, and then he was coming too, spilling inside you with a groan that vibrated against your skin.

Bob’s chest rose and fell against yours, his breath still heavy in the humid pool air. The water rippled softly around you both, echoing the steady beating of your hearts. You curled your fingers through the damp strands at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, savoring the way he melted into your touch.

“Maybe we don’t tell the others about the pool just yet.”

Bob laughed against your skin.

“Want to keep it all to yourself?”

You hummed, tugging his hair so you could kiss him.

“Wanna keep you all to myself.”

Bob smiled against your lips before whispering,

“I think I can be okay with that.”

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 1 day ago

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Summary: Love was never easy then came Bob. You never believed in "right person, right time" or soulmates but maybe that's what this is what's going on.

No major warnings, very soft, meet cute, stranger to lovers, mention of self-doubt

This came to me completely randomly I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlists

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Growing up, you were always told love wasn't something easy. You had to work for love. Love was a difficult and scary thing to find--but if you found the right person, it was worth the fight.

You never found the right person.

Every guy made you nervous--not in a sweet, butterflies-in-your-stomach nervous. More like Shit, don't say the wrong thing. Don’t make a fool of yourself or you’re going to embarrass you forever and he’ll be disgusted, kind of nervous. After a while you just started to believe no guy would actually want to fight to be in a relationship with you.

You never found the right guy.

Not until Bob.

You met Bob by accident. A complete freak accident--the two of you grabbing the same cup of coffee at the exact same time.

“Oh shit, sorry!” you both blurted over each other, hands still touching.

“I-um-you had a caramel latte too?” the stranger asked. You nodded, too scared of hearing your voice stutter in response. He gave a soft, boyish smile and chuckled. “That’s my favorite… Did--I mean was there any difference in your order?” He started inspecting the checkboxes on the cup, hoping for some guidance, since the employees were clearly slammed that morning.

It took you a minute to realize he’d asked you a question — you were too caught in the daze his blue eyes put you in.

“Oh! I, um… I asked for extra caramel,” you said, shrugging slightly. “Sometimes they do it, sometimes they don’t.”

Before he could respond, another caramel latte was placed on the counter. You both glanced around — no one else was waiting. You picked it up and handed it to him. “I think this one’s yours. It isn’t marked with any special add-ons.”

He smiled and swapped drinks with you, then frowned, “Wait… does your drink have the extra caramel you asked for? I didn't see anything marked on that cup” he nodded towards the cup in your hand.

When you checked it you just sighed and shook your head with a small shrug, his frown deepened.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you explained, you were already halfway through brushing it off again when he paused.

You watched as his eyes lit up like some thought just hit him.

“Actually…” he glanced toward the counter, then back to you, hesitant but suddenly determined, “do you want me to ask them to remake it?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The drink. With the extra caramel.” He pointed at your cup, then toward the chaotic barista station. “It’s not what you ordered. I can ask.”

You almost laughed — not at him, but at the sheer earnestness of it.

“No, really. It’s fine. I’m used to them getting it wrong.”

“Still,” he said, standing a little straighter, “you should get what you ask for.”

His brows furrowed like the thought genuinely bothered him. You watched as his hands flexed like he was getting ready to go to war over the state of your coffee.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, softening.

He shrugged, still watching you. “Oh I would never do it for myself. I’d just… take the wrong one and drink it.”

You tilted your head. “But for me…?”

He smiled, a little sheepish now and shrugged. “You just, I don't know you looked disappointed.”

You blinked again, caught off guard by how easily he’d noticed.

Most people didn’t. Most people didn’t care to.

You looked down at your cup. Then up at him.

“It’s okay,” you said. “This is enough.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. But next time? We’re going to make sure your coffee is right.”

You startled at the phrase — next time — but he said it like it was natural, not a reach, not presumptuous.

And somehow, you found yourself hoping for it too.

He seemed surprised by what he actually said, he cleared his throat before looking around trying to calm his racing heart. “It's um-like slammed…I don't know if you were going to drink here but we–we could share that table…if you want? Only if you're comfortable with it obviously! I mean you don't even know me, like we're total strangers I-shit I'm rambling aren't I?” He sighs, blushing bright red before he looks back over to you and sees you smiling softly at him. “I don't mind sharing a table, better than sitting in the heat.”

His shoulders relax and smiles back at you, “Lead the way.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡

The table was tucked into the far corner of the café, pressed up against a window that fogged slightly from the contrast of cool air conditioning inside and the heavy humidity just beyond the glass. It wasn’t much–wobbly and barely big enough for the two of you–but it felt oddly… intimate.

You sat first, cradling your cup in your hands, pretending not to notice how Bob hesitated before pulling out the chair across from you, like he was double-checking you hadn’t changed your mind. “This okay?” he asked again, quieter this time.

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s perfect.” He let out a small breath of relief and sat down, setting his drink on the table carefully like it might shatter if he wasn’t gentle. For a moment, the silence was comfortable. The sounds of the café filled the gaps: espresso machines hissing, mugs clinking, laughter from a group near the door. You watched as Bob adjusted the sleeve on his cup, fingers long and a little fidgety.

“I’m Bob, by the way,” he offered, finally looking back up at you. “Just realized I never introduced myself.”

You smiled, giving your name in return, and he repeated it softly like he was testing the feel of it on his tongue. You liked how it sounded when he said it. He didn’t rush it. He didn’t shrink it down like most people did.

“So…” he started, thumb brushing the edge of his cup, “was this part of your morning routine too? Or are you more of a… ‘I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get caffeine immediately’ kind of person?”

You laughed, shoulders relaxing further. “Definitely the second one today. The heat already tried to kill me on the way here.”

“I get that,” he grinned. “My shirt stuck to my back before I even left my building. Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

You giggled, sipping your not-quite-right coffee despite everything. “Honestly? That’s probably the most relatable thing I’ve heard all week.”

The conversation slipped into something easy after that–back and forth volleys of sarcasm and small confessions. He told you about how he’d gotten yelled at by a pigeon once for dropping a bagel near the subway entrance. You admitted you once accidentally held a stranger’s hand in a crowd for a good twenty seconds before realizing it wasn’t your friend.

Bob had this way of laughing that made your stomach flutter–not loud or boisterous, but quiet and genuine. Like it was a privilege to witness. Like the sound was just for you. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the baristas started calling out the lunch orders and the café grew louder again.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and winced. “I… should probably head out.”

You nodded, trying to keep the disappointment off your face. He stood, then paused. His fingers tapped against the back of his chair like he was debating something.

“I, uh… would you want to do this again?” he asked, voice softer now, eyes hopeful. “Not like anything weird ‘meet me at 8 a.m. sharp’ type thing or anything–just… sometime? Coffee. Or lunch. Or anything really.”

You smiled before you could even think about it. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

His smile bloomed–big, warm, and boyish–and you realized how rare it felt to see someone light up at the idea of seeing you again. He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay. Great. Um… I’ll give you my number?”

You traded phones, thumbs brushing briefly as he handed his over. A small jolt ran through you at the contact. You typed it in carefully, double-checking everything like it was something sacred. When you handed it back, he looked at your screen for a second, then up at you. “I’ll text you later?”

You nodded. “Looking forward to it.”

And you meant it.

As he turned to go, he paused and glanced back at you one last time, flashing a shy grin. “Next time, we will get that extra caramel. I promise.”

You watched him walk away, heart thudding a little faster than it should’ve. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel scary.

It just felt… right. Like maybe, finally, love didn’t have to be something you survived. Maybe it could be something that found you. By complete accident.

At a café.

With the wrong drink… but the right guy.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

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rhettrosunsets · 2 days ago

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Valentine - Robert Reynolds X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Robert Reynolds X Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: You'd never had a boyfriend, you were determined to achieve your goals and get though life steady. But when Bob Reynolds walks into your life, you never expected him to teach you how to be loved.

Or: The one where Bob say's that you're beautiful and you don't know how to process it.

Masterlist

Warnings: Reader is described as very goal oriented. Reader wears Bob's hoodie. Bob is readers first boyfriend. Mentions of reader having an awkward first kiss in high school. No use of Y/N. No physical description of reader.

Notes: Slightly based off Laufey's valentine, but no lyrics are intertwined with this fic.

You never thought you’d be anyone’s Valentine.

It wasn’t because you didn’t want to be. Well, maybe once upon a time you didn’t. But it was always because life had always felt too full already.

Your life had always been full of exams, research, career, ideas. Life was full of responsibility and timelines that you had carefully constructed in your head. Everything in your life was planned, and you were determined to achieve your goals one way or another.

You told yourself that love was distracting, that love may come and go, but your plans, the ones you’ve had for years? Those were permanent.

Of course you'd dream of love in private, always wondering if you'd ever find it. If you ever found someone who would make your heart beat faster just by the way they looked at you. But you knew that your goals had to be met first.

So you studied, you got into college, and then you studied some more. You’d decline hangouts and dates with a polite smile, you kept working, and then? Well then you graduated from college. Your plans that you had worked so hard to achieve, they were done with, and now it was making use of your degree and going from there.

The last thing you had expected was to meet him.

You hadn’t expected Bob Reynolds to waltz into your life, and you definitely hadn't expected to fall in love with the man you met on the way to the coffee shop.

But here you were, three months later sitting on his couch with your heart threatening to leap out of your chest just like you had always imagined, because Bob had just looked at you and said “You’re so beautiful.”

You blinked looking up from the book you had been reading as the two of you lounged on the couch together, your lips parting slightly. “What?” you muttered softly as you looked up.

Bob glanced up from his book. “Hm?”

“What you just said.” you responded back, your voice a bit wobbly. He tilted his head his face a bit amused, probably due to the baffled look on yours “What? You’re so beautiful?” he asks again.

Heat flared to your face like while you tucked your chin down and pretended like you weren’t short circuiting beneath the soft look kept on your face. Bob reached over and gently nudged your foot with his own. “I’ve said it before, baby.”

You nodded while your gaze remained locked on the floor. “I know. You just-” You fumbled, stuttering over your words a bit “You make it sound like it’s true.”

He leaned closer, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “That’s ‘cause it is.”

Oh God. He’s trying to kill you, you think to yourself.

You bury your face in your hands with a muffled groan, which only made Bob laugh, not in a teasing way but rather that sweet breathy kind of laugh that he does when you short circuit like this. One that tells you how in love he is with you.

“Hey, hey.” he whispered softly, reaching over and easing your hands away from your face as he held them in his own. “I know you’re not used to this, Baby. I’ll be as patient as you need me to be.”

Because you really weren’t used to this.

You’d never dated. You had kissed someone once in high school. It had been awkward and you immediately regretted it. For years, you’d thought maybe love just wasn’t for you, that you just needed to focus on your studies, and that if love happened, then it would happen.

Well, love had definitely happened.

And now you were dating Bob Reynolds, who had shown up in your life one day with soft blue eyes, steady hands and reassurance that changed your entire life.

“I’m still getting used to all of this.” you said quietly while you curled your fingers into the sleeves of his hoodie that he had given you to wear tonight. It smelt like him and made you feel like you were being held in a warm hug at all times.

Bob just nodded, and responded softly with “I know, baby.” letting you continue on, but also validating you.

“I mean, I never even had a boyfriend before you, Bob.” you said trying to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous breath before you continued. “Not because I didn’t want one. I had so much to prove, to myself, to everyone around me, and I did that and it was all planned, but then you came along and now suddenly I’m-”

You pause for a second taking a deep breath from the rambling. “I’m so happy with you, it kind of freaks me out.”

His smile softens and it's full of love and pride. “You don’t have to be scared of that. I get the same way, it’s like it feels too good to be true.”

“I know. But it’s like, I just blinked and suddenly I have someone who texts me good morning and brings me soup when I’m sick and kisses me on the forehead just because, and I don’t know how I got here.” You responded as your eyes met his.

Bob smiled as his hand moved to cup your jaw, making sure your eyes stayed on his as he spoke “You walked through everything else first, school, stress, disappointment, happiness. You achieved what you wanted and worked so hard for, and yet somehow after all of that, I got lucky enough to meet you on the other side.”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you replied “You got lucky?” with a confused tone.

“Absolutely.” he said without hesitation. “I’ve never met anyone like you. Someone who makes me feel confident in myself, who loves me unconditionally, who looks at me like I've given them the moon after just saying they're beautiful.”

Your breath hitched in your throat slightly as he continued. “Pretty. brilliant, sweet, super stubborn but in the best way possible.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was starting to fight its way through. “I used to think love would distract me. That it would be a waste of time.” you muttered softly, while he pulled you close and ran his fingers up and down your arm, slow and steady.

“And now?” Bob asked you.

You smiled softly as you looked at him. “Now I think it helps me breathe.”

You felt the gentle kiss he pressed into your hair. “That’s what love should do. It's what it does for me too baby. It's like everything else can go quiet when I'm with you.”

You used to reject the idea of love, out of fear, out of the unknown. But now? With your face pressed to Bob’s chest, you wearing his hoodie and his heartbeat beating under your ear, you knew that having a valentine would be worth it after all.

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goldenmythosworld · 3 days ago

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Synopsis: Caleb loses it when he learns you are going on a date, pt. 2 to this post! 😛

CW: MDNI, SMUT, fem! Reader, possessive Caleb, dom Caleb, p in v, Caleb is downright NASTY, panty sniffer and stealer Caleb, oral (f! & m! receiving), munch Caleb, throat fucking, overstimulation, manhandling, creampie, aftercare

Not proofread

—————————————————————————————

Caleb’s hands are all over your body as he kisses you. Like he does not know where to touch you. Like he wants to be touching every part of you at the same time.

His hand slips to your breast, and he squeezes. You moan, and he uses that to slip his tongue into your mouth. After a moment, you pull back, needing to catch your breath. Caleb is panting as he moves his lips to your neck. He finds the tender spot just above your collarbone, and he sucks. Hard enough to leave a love bite. You know he does it as a way to show his claim on you, and you feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of it.

Pulling away, Caleb looks into your eyes and says, “Get on your knees. You’re gonna make it up to me for even thinking about going on that fucking date.”

You do as he says, hands eagerly moving to undo his belt and then zipper. Caleb watches you, a low chuckle leaving him. “Look at you, so eager to please me.” You do not respond, too focused on getting his cock out of his pants.

You pull him free, and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock. He is thick, veins running down the sides. Mushroom head already leaking. You dart your tongue out and lick his head, the flavour of his pre-cum melting onto your tongue. You move your mouth to run your tongue along the veins on the sides of his cock. Caleb hisses, a hand flying to your hair as he rests the other above the door for support.

“Come on, don’t be a fucking tease.” His voice is filled with unrestrained desire. You suck his tip into your mouth, slowly taking more and more in, using your teeth to just softly graze the underside of his cock. You do not stop until you feel him hit the back of your throat. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck.”

You begin sucking him off, bobbing your head and using your hands to jerk off what you cannot fit in your mouth. Caleb is moaning above you, unashamed to show you that he is enjoying what you are doing to him.

He pulls out of your mouth, hand travelling to your lips, wiping away some of the spit that has collected there. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, okay? You’re going to be a good girl and take it. Tap my thigh three times if you need a break.”

And then he is pushing his cock head against your lips, both hands in your hair as he holds you still. He stuffs your mouth, until he hits a little resistance. He pushes forward, slowly. “Open up for me, baby. Come on, I know you can do it for me.” He takes his time pushing deeper down your throat until your nose is flush against his pelvis. Caleb is groaning, hand tightening in your hair. He pulls back, allowing you to breathe for a second, and then he is pushing back in. He gets to work, fucking your throat wildly. Your jaw aches, but you love it.

One of your hands slowly slips down, towards your dripping cunt. You push your panties to the side, and begin rubbing tight circles on your clit. You moan around Caleb’s cock, causes his eyes to snap down to you. He takes note of how you are playing with yourself.

He pulls out of your mouth, and you whine. Caleb moves his hand from your head to your throat. He does not squeeze; he does not need to. “If you wanted your pretty little pussy played with, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

And the next thing you know, Caleb has you over your shoulder, a hand coming down to smack your ass, as he walks you over to his couch. He tosses you down onto it, before he walks back to where you had dropped your purse. He opens it and grabs your phone.

Back to you, he holds out your phone to you. “You’re going to call that loser while I eat this needy pussy, and tell him the date’s cancelled.”

Your eyes widen. “Caleb, that’s insane-”

“Oh, you have no idea how insane I can be. Just be a good girl, and I’ll forgive you for agreeing to the date. Okay?”

You nod, taking your phone from his hands. Caleb moves to sit between your thighs, pushing them apart as he settles down between them. He pushes your dress up, then grabs your panties and slowly pulls them down your legs. Once off, he brings them to his nose and inhales. He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Your cheeks flush. “You smell so fucking good. And I know you’re going to taste even better.” He slips your panties into his pocket. You know, for when you are not there and he misses you.

Caleb bends down and licks a long stripe up your puffy pussy. You both moan. Caleb draws back, and looks up at you. “Call him, pretty girl. And I want you to keep your eyes on me while you call him.”

Caleb does not move. He waits and watches as you go to dial your colleagues number. Placing the phone to your ear, you listen to it ring, eyes flickering down to Caleb. Only then does he start eating you out. And this man feasts. He is downright disgusting in the way he is sucking on your clit, hands holding your thighs spread for him.

You are a whining mess, but instantly force yourself to quiet down when you hear the line connect. Which only causes Caleb to redouble his efforts. All while he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, uh… listen. I w-won’t be able to make the d-date.” You stutter, your voice high pitched. “No-no, I’m fineee. Just not feeling so good. But, I’ve also been thinking that we shouldn’t see each other r-romantically, since we are colleagues. B-best to keep it strictly professional.”

Your other hand is gripping Caleb’s hair, as your hips buck against his face. The sounds coming from your soaking cunt are loud, not to mention the moans Caleb is letting out. It is likely it can be heard through the phone, but you cannot bring yourself to care at the moment.

“Sorry forrrr this. Okay, bye.” You rush out before ending the call, phone slipping from your hand. You whine as Caleb nips at your clit with his teeth before pulling away.

“Good job, baby. I think I should reward you for being so obedient.” And he is diving back in, slurping your juices up as he eats. Your orgasm slams into you, knocking the air of your lungs to the point where you cannot even moan. Your mouth is simply open in a silent scream.

Caleb keeps eating, prolonging your orgasm until your legs are shaking and you try and push his head away. Caleb lifts his mouth from your cunt, face drenched in your release, and says, “No, baby. I said I’m going to reward you, and I am far from finished.”

And he is diving back down, picking up right where he left off. You do not know how many times Caleb makes you orgasm. All you know is that your voice is hoarse, and your legs are unable to stop shaking.

Finally, he pulls back, licking his lips. Eyes dark and full of need. He does not say anything. He simply stands and picks you up, carrying you to his room. He throws you on his bed, and begins to strip. And then he is hovering over you, pulling your dress up over your head. He unclips your bra and tugs it off. Leaving you in only your heels.

He sits back on the edge of the bed and just stares at you, taking in your naked body. You swear his pupils expand. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

He moves faster than you can think, because the next thing you know, he has you in a fucking mating press. He aligns himself with your dripping, abused hole, before he flicks his eyes to yours. You know what he is asking.

“Caleb, please,” and that is all he needs to start slowing slipping in. He is so thick, stretching your poor cunt out like never before. He was right. He is going to ruin you for anyone else. But that is fine. You never wanted anyone else to begin with.

He keeps pushing, groaning loudly, until he bottoms out. He gives you a moment to adjust, before he gets to work. His thrusts are hard and fast. Brutal in their pace. Your back arches off the bed, as you clamp down on him. You are cumming again. But he does not slow.

He bends down and kisses you, and you can still taste yourself on his lips. His kiss is sweet, full of love and devotion — the complete opposite of how he is fucking you.

Caleb tilts your hips up, by playing a pillow underneath, and then he is hitting your gummy g-spot, over and over again. It has you seeing stars.

Caleb pulls out, you whine at the empty feeling, and he flips you into your stomach. He slips right back in, and this new position has him ramming into your cervix. He is so so so deep and you love it.

He fucks you like that, causing you to cum two more times. Your body is sweaty, all you can hear is your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin. That is when you feel his hips start to falter.

He pulls out and flips you back onto your back. He slips in one more time, and bends to rest some of his weight on you. Mouth moving to yours, he kisses you. Your arms are around his neck, pulling him deeper.

Caleb moves his mouth to your neck and bites down. And then he is cumming. Hit spurts of his thick cum flooding you, and it causes you to cum one more time, milking his cock for everything he has. One final thrust, and he stills, balls deep in your cunt.

He lays on top of you for a moment, catching his breath, before he sits up. Slowly, he pulls back. He watches as his cum drips out of you. He moves his hand toward your pussy, but you slam your legs shut. “I can’t, Caleb.” Understanding that you are at your limit, he pulls his hand back.

Getting off the bed, he stands and gently scoops you into his arms. He places a kiss on your forehead and heads to his bathroom.

He cleans you up, then gently massages your bruised skin, all while peppering you with kisses.

“I’m sorry I was so rough. I- the thought of you with someone else just made me lose it.”

“It’s okay, I wanted it. Needed it really. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do.”

He smiles, and places a kiss on your head. He carries you back to the room, and places you on the bed, under the blankets. He leaves, only to return with water and your favourite snacks.

After you have eaten, he wraps his arms around you and holds you close.

“You’re mine now, you know that, right?” Caleb whispers into your hair.

“I was always yours, silly,” you sleepily reply. Completely fatigued from the thorough fucking he gave you.

“Hmm. And I’m yours.”

“I’d hope so,” you giggle.

Yawning, you snuggle closer to him, happy and your body sore in all the right places.

—————————————————————————————

A/N: well.

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arixella · 2 days ago

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hi! I was wondering if you can do an ask imagine of Luffy x reader attempting to take their own life or successfully did it. If that's too uncomfortable can you write one with Luffy comforting or helping with much weaker crewmate? Angst for if you want.

Your Still Part of My Crew

╰┈➤ pairing: Luffy x gn! reader

a/n: hey yall ive been on vacation sorry but im working on everyones request and the request box is closed rn 😭 (edit: it’s open now!)

summary: After freezing during a fight and feeling like dead weight to the crew, you find unexpected comfort in Luffy’s quiet presence and unwavering belief that you still belong at his side — weak or not.

wc: 650

contains: angst, self doubt, hurt/comfort,

It was late. The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting the Thousand Sunny in deep hues of navy and silver. Most of the crew was asleep, except for you. You were sitting alone on the lawn deck, knees pulled to your chest, heart heavy. Your hands were still trembling. Today’s skirmish hadn’t even been a real fight — just a handful of marines too stubborn to back down. But they were strong. Much stronger than you. You’d frozen. Again.

You heard the others talking after. Not cruel, not loud — but it didn’t take much to hear what wasn’t said. “They’re not strong enough.” “Why did Luffy bring them along?” “They could’ve been killed today.”

And you agreed. You were too weak. What were you even doing here, among legends?

“Oi.” A familiar voice broke the quiet. Your breath caught. You knew that voice anywhere. Luffy.

He plopped down next to you without a word, his straw hat casting a moon-shaped shadow across his face. Neither of you spoke at first. The sea whispered against the ship, and the wind tangled through your hair. You didn’t want him to see your tears, but you couldn’t stop them.

“I messed up,” you muttered finally, voice shaking. “I’m not like the others. I hold you all back.”

Luffy’s gaze stayed on you, quiet but heavy. “So?”

You blinked. “So? I almost got everyone hurt.”

“But you didn’t,” he said plainly, like it was that simple. “We’re all still here. You’re still here.”

You looked down. “But I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t. I was scared.”

“I get scared too,” Luffy said, softer this time. “But being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

You didn’t respond. The silence stretched again.

Then, you felt something light brush your head — his hat. His treasured straw hat, now resting on your head.

“Luffy—”

“I don’t care if you’re strong or not,” he said, finally looking at you. His dark eyes were steady, unwavering. “You’re my crewmate. That’s all that matters.”

Your breath hitched.

“You think I let just anyone on my ship?” he grinned. “No way. I chose you. So don’t go trying to decide for me if you belong.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already moving closer. Not in a loud, flashy way — but solid. Reassuring. He placed a hand gently on your back.

“You’re allowed to grow at your own pace. You’ll get stronger. I know it.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he brushed a tear off your cheek with his thumb.

“And even if you don’t,” he added with a crooked smile, “I’ll protect you anyway.”

Your chest cracked open at that. No one had ever said something like that to you without expectation. Without condition.

You leaned into him before you could stop yourself. He didn’t flinch. Just wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Under the stars, held against the warmth of your captain’s side, something began to settle in your chest. Not confidence — not yet. But hope.

And sometimes, that was enough.

♡♡♡

#anime #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece luffy #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy x reader angst #luffy angst

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hannahsturniolo · 1 day ago

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ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴏɴ

Summary: Matt makes sure that even though he’s in Japan for work, that you feel loved.

WC:513

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You were curled up in Matt’s bed, hugging the stuffed animal he gave you before he left for Japan with his brothers. Tears slid silently down your cheeks, soaking into the pillow. You knew he wouldn’t be gone long, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

The house felt too quiet without him. Being at the Sturniolo house without really knowing anyone in LA made the loneliness hit even harder. You stared at the ceiling, the stillness around you making it worse.

Grabbing your phone, you typed out a simple message:

I miss you.

He replied almost instantly:

I miss you too, baby. I’ll see you in a few days.

That was enough to make your heart ache all over again, but just having his words helped a little. You held the stuffed animal tighter, let your phone slip from your hand, and drifted off to sleep with swollen eyes and quiet sniffles.

Not long after, Matt glanced at the screen and noticed you hadn’t responded again. He knew you had fallen asleep.

A few minutes later, another message came through:

I know you’re probably asleep now, but I just want you to know how much I love you. Being away from you even for a few days is harder than I thought it’d be. I miss everything! your laugh, your hugs, the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. I hope you sleep well tonight, baby. Dream of me, and know that I’m thinking about you every second. I’ll be home before you know it. Goodnight, my love.

~~~~~~~

The next morning;

You woke up slowly, eyes still sore from crying the night before. The first thing you saw was your phone, still resting beside you on the bed. You picked it up and re-read Matt’s message from the night before, the one he sent while you were sleeping.

Your heart swelled.

You felt it in your chest, that deep, overwhelming kind of love. He was on the other side of the world, and still made sure you felt cared for. Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were happy. He loved you so much, and he was always so unbelievably sweet to you, even when he was thousands of miles away.

Just then, you heard a soft knock at the front door.

You wiped your cheeks, dragged yourself out of bed, and padded downstairs, feet sliding lazily across the floor. You rubbed your eyes as you opened the door, and paused.

Sitting on the doorstep was a paper bag with breakfast inside, your favorite iced coffee beside it, and a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers resting gently on top. Your heart nearly burst.

You bent down, scooping it all up with a big smile spreading across your face, cheeks warm, hands full, heart full.

Matt had gotten one of his friends in LA to drop it off.

You didn’t even hesitate. You texted him instantly:

“You’re the sweetest. I love you so much. Thank you for breakfast and the flowers 🥺💕”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

A/N: I am currently writing a chris version of this as well, except it’s a little more spicy😏

Taglist❤︎:

@courta13 @riggysworld @heartsonlyforchris @mattssidepiece @matthewsangel @whore4chris @mattsturniolofuckingsexy @sturkneeohloww @leila-marie4 @sturniolo-szn2 @tezzzzzzzz @fictionalboysstuff @sturnixblogger @vall67 @chrissbxby @sturniolobananas1 @sophand4n4 @stvvrn1olo @xxxxxxlovesstuff @mattspillowprincess @moond0llie @emely9274 @briizysturn @sturniolooluvv @kenziesturniolo54 @d0llworld @kalel2005 @yourfavejules @rheaasturn @babyt0matoes @bambixz @spencer812003 @mattstromboli @wesj11 @bluesundaylover @elianamattlvr @alinagrace11

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt fluff

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viperify · 19 hours ago

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congratulations on reaching 1k, my sweet girl mar! ❤️💖❤️💖

how about some smutty tutoring with the grumpy x sunshine trope (maybe with a hufflepuff! reader?)? 🔥

i think these two will go well with the trope:

“you get like this every time we study—tense and nervous. is it the topic or the company?”

“keep your voice down. or don’t. let them hear.”

and any class will do! i don't have a particular one in mind. the same goes for the kinks! go wild 👅

hehe, thank you, i love you 💋

1k celebration | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʜᴜꜰꜰʟᴇᴘᴜꜰꜰ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆꒷꒦˚˖ Sweet Like Honey.

Short Summary: Tom Riddle doesn’t appreciate you not paying attention during his tutoring lessons—especially not if all you do is staring at him and his hands.

Warnings: 18+ only! DUBIOUS CONSENT. semi-public, fingering, praise, hand kink. Tom Riddle is a menace.

A/N: shoutout to my dearest wife @dearmisshoney for being the only one to request Tom’s Tutoring correctly. I love you. Have a whole 2,5k word fic as a gift.

wordcount: 2,5k

You’d always only seen the good in everyone.

That’s just who you were. Your sweet smile and open-minded personality had always only had a positive effect on others—and helped you make many friends over the years at Hogwarts.

Everyone seemed to love and appreciate you—praising you for your kindness and optimistic energy.

But still, there was one student who you couldn’t win over, no matter what you tried.

Slytherin’s prefect—Tom Riddle.

Every project you had done together was solved in silence. You’d blamed yourself for it for a very long time. Thought that your approach was wrong, that you’d given him the wrong impression.

But God, he wouldn’t even let you explain—instead, he cut off every conversation you tried to start.

At some point, you gave up. Let him be. You only worked with him if you really had to. The strange tension and awkwardness you felt whenever he spoke to you made you want to rip out your hair strand by strand rather than have another conversation with him.

You just couldn’t understand how a single individual could be this unapproachable and closed-off.

—

You’d just come back from Dumbledore’s office.

And you felt like throwing up. Literally.

You pleaded for someone else. Anyone, really—because there surely must be another student that could explain that one Defence Against the Dark Arts topic to you. Someone that wasn’tTom Riddle.

But Dumbledore only crooked an eyebrow, telling you there was no one else, and—if you didn’t wish to fail—you’d have to accept the offer.

Well, fuck.

—

You’d never been as prepared for a tutoring lesson in your life. It felt as though you’d mastered the topic all by yourself before the first session. All the hours and headaches you’d accumulated over the past week would have to pay off today.

Normally you wouldn’t have done this. Drowned yourself in work just so you wouldn’t have to take any more tutoring lessons. Your skin crawled at the mere thought of having to spend two hours with that arrogant prat—but it was too late. You’d done this to yourself.

What frustrated you even more—the fact that now, even without his help, you’d manage to pass.

Though not wanting to disobey the headmaster’s orders, you still showed up. Books and notepad in hand, leaning against the cold stone wall as you waited for him.

Nervously picking at your nails, you didn’t even notice Tom making his way towards you—not before you glanced up, that is.

He came to a halt right in front of you, one of his hands casually tucked in his pockets, the other holding a textbook.

Defence Against the Dark Arts for Beginners.

You were in your last year.

“I see you are able to make it in time—if it is for your benefit, of course.” Tom muttered, strutting past you into the library.

No hello, nothing. You hadn’t spoken in weeks, and still, he managed to get on your nerves with the first thing he said to you.

“That was one single time. And I had a good reason, Riddle.” You whisper-yelled after him, but he didn’t respond. Didn’t even wait for you to follow him either.

You inhale a deep breath before you too enter the library, trying to maintain your usual positive mindset—but God, it was more than difficult with him.

It was pre-exam season, meaning it was packed with students. Not even Madam Pince was able to keep control of the situation—it was all a mess, and your motivation to study had dropped to an all-time low at that point.

You knew his usual spot was to the left of the library, simply because the more useful books were stored on that side. Though, every seat was occupied. So, to his visible dismay, he had to settle for the only table for two that was left. Which happened to be in the first aisle, with a somewhat clear view of the center.

Obviously this spot was disliked. It was distracting. Every other minute someone walked past, or the librarian hurried down the aisle finding or returning a book.

“You are aware I am not a beginner, right?” You finally asked as you got seated, and he opened the book he’d brought—completely disregarding the material you had taken with you.

He didn’t even grant you a glance, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “Dumbledore described your situation as—let’s say—quite severe. To catch up until your exam, you will have to follow a strict study plan. Mine.”

Now, you were certain he knew you didn’t need this. It was just another act of humiliation.

You didn’t quite know what bothered him this much about you. Never had you met a person this infuriating and insufferable.

Still, you clenched your jaw and decided to follow along. If anything, you did this to satisfy Dumbledore. No other reason.

An hour had passed, an hour wasted. It was nothing new. He’d repeated the basics of the basics. And him, having shifted in his seat slowly over time, now sitting so impossibly close—so close, you felt the vibrations of his voice in the air—didn’t help the situation.

Although you hated him with all you had, you couldn’t quite deny the fact that Tom was one of the most handsome students—and with him mere inches from your face—you got an even better view of his features.

How the muscles in his jaw flexed whenever he spoke, the beauty mark on his cheekbone, the gel in his hair. Veins standing out beneath his skin when he reached to turn the page.

Although they were quick glances—he noticed them. Of course he did. The sweet little Hufflepuff next to him, acting oh-so-sweet and innocent next to her friends. But whenever he was around—your energy shifted. He recognized it all too well. Tom never cared about the chocolate and roses he received on Valentine’s. Too many to count, too many rejections to give out.

It was curious. All these cards, all these names. But never yours. Every single year he’d almost waited for your name to come up. It never did.

You were different in your own way—trying to deny him as best as you could. But he saw right through you.

He cleared his throat, and you were torn from your thoughts, from studying his features. "You get like this every time we study—tense and nervous. Is it the topic or the company?"

It felt as though a knot had formed in your throat. Impossible to swallow, suffocating you. Blood rushed to your cheeks, feeling them heating up.

You shake your head, briefly. Packing your books in a hurry. “I am— feeling unwell. Perhaps we could— continue another t-time?”

Tom huffs at that, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours for the first time that afternoon. Suddenly you felt quite dizzy.

“Aren’t you here to learn something? It’s quite rude to leave now. Especially after you have so thoroughly examined my facial features as I was trying my best to get you back on track for your exam.”

You definitely felt like dying now.

“I— I don’t think this is a good idea, Riddle.” Your legs shook as you tried to stand up, but something—something that you soon recognized to be the warmth of Tom’s hand—anchored you to the wooden bench you were sitting on.

“Stay,” he said. An order. Voice low, barely above a whisper. He was still looking at you. Even as his eyes seemed to bore into the side of your face, you didn’t return the favour. The warmth of his palm on your bare thigh, resting just below the hem of your skirt, and him studying your face just like you had done to him mere moments ago—had you contemplate every life choice you had made that led you to this.

Tom, on the other hand, was enjoying himself. Your trembling fingers, clutching tightly around the books you had brought, your jaw, clenched tightly. Eyebrows slightly furrowed. His sweet little Hufflepuff. So sweet, you could very well challenge the honey he had at breakfast that very morning.

“A-alright, uhh— where were we? I remember you saying something about— oh—“

You had tried your best to ignore the hand on your thigh as you forced your brain to remember what he had said before you got lost in your own thoughts. A fatal mistake, looking back now.

It was about the effects of Crucio you believe and— well— that was all you managed to recall until his hand slipped higher. Not a mistake, definitely not. Because it stayed there. It felt hot against your skin now, as though it was trying to burn you. Your breath caught, and you choked on your words.

“Yes?” Tom said, more softly this time. “What was it that I was explaining?”

“Umm— Cru— Crucio and its long-term effects, and—“

His hand travelled further up your plush thighs, now slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. Squeezing gently.

Yeah, you lost the plot again.

He lifted his hand slightly, reconnecting his palm with your flesh in a soft slap.

“Go on.”

You inhaled sharply, almost a sob.

“A-about curses and how we defend ourselves against them. H-how to reverse their e-effects—“

Tom nodded, his second hand lifting your leg, draping it over his—spreading your legs before his fingertips wandered up the inside of your thigh with the gentlest touch.

He kept your leg firmly pressed against his, even as you tried clenching your thighs together—to escape the sensation of his touch.

Tom leaned in then, slowly, his tone gentle as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, placing a soft kiss on it. “Too much?”

Any coherent thoughts had long left your brain. Shaking your head erratically was the only answer you gave him. The only answer he needed.

Two of his fingers worked their way beneath the waistband of your panties, having you hold onto the edge of the bench you were sitting on—knuckles turning white from how tightly you were gripping it.

His eyes studied your expression carefully as he first explored along the soft lace, then slipped deeper—one of his fingers finding your swollen clit, drawing soft circles on it.

You gasped, immediately covering your mouth with your hand—afraid someone might hear you—your fingers closing around his wrist, momentarily stilling his movements.

Tom waited, and as you relaxed, your fingers slipping from his wrist—he dipped between your folds, a low, throaty groan falling over his lips as he felt your arousal coating his finger.

“‘S that all because of me, hm? All wet just from staring at my hands.” He drawled, fingertip circling your entrance, dipping inside half an inch before withdrawing again. “You like my hands?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, gently rocking your hips to meet his touch. Tom hummed in approval, leaning in again to place a kiss just below your jaw.

“But what— what if someone sees us?” You asked, nervously glancing around you—but even those worries faded when he finally entered your slick heat, massaging your walls with precision that had your eyes roll to the back of your head, precision you wanted to hex him for.

“Then we will have a lot of fun in detention, sweetheart.” He teased, a second finger prodding at your entrance—too pushing inside.

“Now, tell me the most important reversal spells—if you stop, I stop.”

If you weren’t so far gone, you’d probably smack one of your books on his head.

“There’s— Finite Incantatem—“

His long, slender fingers pushed deeper, until the second knuckle, when he curled them—and you swore that for a second you saw stars dancing in front of you—another soft moan slipping from your lips.

“It ends— minor curses and— the effect of some hexes,” you continue, trying your best to play off any suggestive gasps as breaths—but you failed terribly at it.

In the meanwhile, his thumb made its way to your clit, rubbing gentle circles on the sensitive bud—which, again, had your concentration falter.

He stopped, and you whined in frustration—you needed this, and he knew it.

“S-sometimes you can also— use Episkey—“

At this point, you just told him anything you knew. No matter if he had mentioned it that day or not, you wanted to please him enough to grant you your release. And he did—ironically enough, he sped up, angling his thrusts just right when he heard students walking down the aisle. You didn’t notice them.

“Tom— oh God, Tom—“ you whimpered softly, thighs trembling as he brought you right to the edge, the knot in your stomach wound tight.

“There’s someone coming. Keep your voice down. Or don't. Let them hear." He murmured, thumb pressing down on your clit again—enough to send you over, waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your walls pulsed rhythmically around his digits, which didn’t let up.

Not even when two Ravenclaw girls of your year walked past you. You saw them, yes. Yet, you weren’t able to hold back his name, accompanied by a small gasp.

Lucky for you, they didn’t notice.

Only when you whimpered in overstimulation did he withdraw his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You opened without a second thought, tasting your own slick on his skin as your tongue worked to clean his fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred, hand dropping to his side, pressing a kiss on your temple before he let go of your leg.

Tom let you catch your breath, briefly, before he decided it was “smart” to use the rest of your time. Knowing damn well you weren’t able to concentrate. Not now, that the realisation of what you had just done set in.

Those two hours passed faster than you had thought they would.

And when you left the library, looking at him—taking in the smug grin on his face you knew all too well from whenever he got what he wanted—he handed you a small piece of paper.

You recognized it instantly.

A detention ticket. For tomorrow afternoon. With him. For three hours.

“Before you ask. That’s for your skirt—school rules say below the knee. This one is clearly not long enough—although I doubt you don’t already know that.”

Your eyebrows furrow. That fucking—

“I hate you, Riddle.”

He turned, winking. “See you tomorrow, honey.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | 1k celebration. <- event masterlist.

#ᯓᢉ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ 𝟣ᴋ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ .ᐟ ₊ 𝜗𝜚 ⟡˚˖#ᯓᢉ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ✎ᝰ.ᐟ #tom riddle #tom riddle smut #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle imagine #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom #divider by strangergraphics

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kunareads · 15 hours ago

Text

mamma mia | dancing queen | episode one: graduation

prev / next series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 1k a/n: ...i am so sorry this took so long to start. but i am finally feeling inspired about her! so everybody strap in <3 content: bittersweet endings, alcohol use 18+ please <3

the sun is too bright.

it glances off rows of white folding chairs and turns the stage into a mirage. you’re sweating under your gown—an unfortunate shade of blue—and the heat has soaked through to your skin.

yuki fans herself with the program on your left, muttering under her breath about how this is all a waste of perfectly good daylight. utahime is on your right, pretending to pay attention but squeezing your hand every time the applause swells.

you’re here. you’re really here.

the thought comes sudden and a little startling, like you’d almost forgotten to be proud of yourself. you didn’t think you’d stick around long enough to make it here—to the speeches and bad gowns and how the whole day feels like it’s going to tip into something bigger.

you don’t hear most of what the dean says. something about limitless potential and new beginnings. all you can think about is how your palm is damp in utahime’s and how you haven’t bought your flight yet.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

the bar is already too full when you push through the door, yuki’s hand on your shoulder to keep from losing you in the crowd. someone shouts your name over the music, but you can’t tell who it is through the blur of flushed faces and raised glasses.

utahime finds a booth and you all cram in, knees pressed together, laughing over nothing. the table is sticky, the lights are too bright, and everything feels a little unreal.

yuki orders shots you didn’t ask for, lining them up with a flourish. “to higher education,” she declares, “and to the fact that none of us got expelled.”

you knock the rim of your plastic cup against hers and utahime’s, and down the liquor in one swallow. it burns all the way down before lighting up in your chest.

someone starts a song you all know—something stupid and nostalgic—and yuki drags you up into the tiny space between tables.

utahime laughs from the booth as the two of you dance on each other but joins by the second chorus. and for a while, it’s just this: the heat, the music, the hoarseness in your throat from laughter. a whole room of people you’ve known for years, pressed together in the last place you’ll all be together.

it feels good. it feels like confirmation. you’re free.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

you’re not sure how it got so late.

the house is quiet except for the rustle of clothes and the occasional thunk of something hitting the floor. your suitcase sits open on the rug, looking smaller by the minute.

you pull things from the closet in handfuls. clothes you’ve outgrown, sweaters you never wear, a jacket that smells faintly like someone you don’t talk to anymore.

“you guys can take what you want,” you say, voice scratchy from all the singing and laughing. “i’m not hauling all this across the world.”

utahime sighs, but she kneels to start folding everything into neat stacks. yuki flops onto her stomach beside the suitcase and starts rifling through your shoebox of old ticket stubs and photo booth strips.

you keep going like that for a while—sorting, folding, handing things off. it feels weirdly satisfying, like proof you’re really doing it. like shedding an old skin.

at some point, utahime trails off to her room and comes back with a slim blue journal. she places it on top of your suitcase.

“for when you get sick of talking to yourself,” she says. she doesn’t wait for you to respond before turning back to the suitcase.

a few minutes later, yuki shoves something into your hand. you look down and realize it’s a wad of cash, folded over twice.

“don’t start,” she warns, cutting you off before you can open your mouth. “just take it. you’re gonna need it more than i do.”

you nod. you don’t make a speech.

it doesn’t take long after that. by the time you’ve crammed the last pair of socks into a side pocket, the room is stripped down to almost nothing. just the suitcase, the two of them, and the knowledge that by tomorrow evening, you’ll be somewhere else entirely.

you zip it closed and look around one last time.

that’s it.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

the airport is almost empty when you get there. pale light spills through giant windows, turning the floor into a dull reflection of the sky. you’re running on maybe three hours of sleep, your head cottony with exhaustion and adrenaline.

yuki insists on hauling your suitcase up to the counter even though you’re perfectly capable. utahime stands behind you, double-checking your boarding pass and passport like she doesn’t trust you not to lose them in the sixty seconds between here and security.

yuki is the first to crack. she pulls you in hard, arms wrapping around your shoulders so tight it almost hurts. “don’t let some european asshole break your heart,” she mumbles, voice muffled against your hair.

“i won’t.” your throat feels tight.

utahime steps in next, and her hug is softer but somehow worse. like she’s trying to keep you. “call when you land,” she says, pulling back just enough to look at you. her eyes are wet, but she doesn’t let it spill over. “and…just—be happy, okay?”

“okay.” you mean it.

they walk with you as far as they’re allowed, and then it’s time. no countdown, just a line you have to step across.

you look back at them—your best friends, your whole little universe—and all you can really do is smile and swallow the lump in your throat. yuki lifts her hand in a wave. utahime is wiping her cheek with the heel of her palm.

you take a breath. turn around.

you don’t look back again.

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prettyiwa · 1 day ago

Note

suo and handholding #43 >:333

hihihi i know you will excel, very excited :3 AND HI ILY

Clear Enough

Relationship: Suo Hayato x Reader Content Tags: Post-Canon, Wound Tending, Suo's surprisingly serious, Reader's tired of living in the opacity of their friendship, Almost/Not Quite Confessions, Profanity Word Count: 1.4k 😭

A/N: I also threw in 33 because why not? (33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go. 43. raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly). Writing Warm-Up Game

The shadows outside grow long as the sun continues its descent, evening taking hold while Suo fusses to the left of you. A sliver of guilt eats at you, but it’s buried entirely by the discomfort of him having been the one in the area to respond. Even as he takes your hand in his, busted and sore and in need of the attention he seemed so eager to give, you can’t look at him.

“Who taught you how to throw a punch?” His tone is conversational, words weaved behind his genial mask, though you think there’s something pressing behind his query.

Throwing a glance in his direction, you find him without his smirk, his eye clouded with some unknown emotion in the brief second it meets yours before dropping to your knuckles.

“That’s what you wanted to ask?” If anything, you thought he’d ask why, especially since he jumped in and got his hands dirty to prevent you from taking the next punch thrown.

“What would I ask instead?” Suo’s hair falls in his face, swaying as he moves his head.

He dabs a sanitary wipe on the broken skin, making it sting, pulling a light hiss from you as you suck in a breath. That mask falters, the barest grimace pulling down the line of his mouth as his chin dimples ever so slightly. A moment passes, then the mask returns, his expression growing smooth.

“I don’t know,” you say, the words laced with exasperation, allowing him to smile, however disingenuous. “Maybe why I punched some guy to begin with?”

He looks up, his smile still there, the one he uses to hide what he’s thinking. His eye lingers on you, studying your face in that way that’s always made you feel unnervingly seen. (Unnervingly because you never know what he’s thinking, never aware of what conclusions he draws). There’s another sting as the wipe presses against the open skin once more and his gaze drops to your hand when you clench your fingers around his.

“Does it matter?”

“I mean… considering you stepped in for me, maybe? Don’t you care about why you got into a fight today?”

There’s a thundering in your chest, pounding in your ears in a way that not even your adrenaline-fueled confrontation managed. He waits a minute, intent on your hand, and you wonder whether he can hear it himself.

“I know why I got into a fight today. Do you?” There’s something weighted to his question, something more to what he’s asking, something that makes you squirm.

It’s never been fun when he gets like this, intentions obfuscated unnecessarily. Perhaps if he came out and said what he’s thinking, you’d be inclined to answer him. You bite your tongue and ignore the heat of his stare until he shifts, grabbing the cotton swabs with antibiotic ointment, never releasing your hand as he does so. Only after he starts dabbing the skin does he speak again.

“Oh? I answer your questions, but you can’t answer mine?”

“I never like your questions.” They’re always so pointed, digging at things you’d rather went unsaid. Asking to reveal things of yourself while he remains as elusive as ever.

He simply hums, the sound piquing your curiosity enough to pull your focus back to his face. The smirk is gone, his mouth turned into a frown.

Shit. Is he really bothered by that?

With a sigh, you acquiesce. “Fine. I’ll answer one of your questions.”

Suo’s smile is too quick, leaving you feeling like a mouse caught in a trap. (Fuck). “How about the first one?”

“Which was that?” A bit petulant, perhaps, but he deserves it for the move he just pulled.

He finishes, cotton swab held firmly between the fingers of his right hand as he watches you carefully, picking you apart before enunciating each word. “Who taught you how to punch?”

When you sigh, it carries the weight of the answer you didn’t give before, appeasing him enough to put down the swab and reach for the bandages, releasing your hand.

“Sakura.”

The way he pauses makes you think your answer comes as a surprise. “Sakura?”

(The lift to his question certainly would suggest it to be a surprise).

You can’t help but smile, satisfied with the genuine expression of astonishment—he’s never been able to fabricate the genuine article in any of his acts. “You sound so surprised.”

“How did that happen?”

As he wraps your hand, movements sure and practiced, you’re taken back to all the times it was you patching up Bofurin boys instead, Suo never among them.

“I asked him.”

“Didn’t realize you two were so close.”

“Do I need to be close to him to learn how to deck someone? Besides, I’ve technically known Sakura longer than you.” Both longer than Suo’s known him, and longer than you’ve known Suo. (By a day, but fuck it. You’re already being a little petty).

“I would’ve taught you.”

Why does he sound so… ?

“Didn’t think you would’ve wanted to.” Suo’s never been happy with your proximity to any fights, always stepping in and handling it before anyone could so much as say anything threatening to you. Sakura, at least, always tried to let you handle things on your own before it was too late. He just seemed the more accessible choice.

Suo finishes, the fingers of his left hand tapping against your bandaged palm before he adjusts his hold, your palms locking together as his fingers gently wrap around the base of your hand. You aren’t expecting it when he leans in slightly, commanding your attention with his singular focus. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

Your throat seizes and it feels like he’s trying to pull the truth from you as he’s always done, leaving you frayed. This back and forth, not knowing where you actually stand with him while he toys with you…

“I dunno. Sometimes I just…” The words get caught on your tongue, your lips moving without any sound coming out, a knot forming behind your sternum.

“You just?” When he tilts his head, his earrings sway, giving you something to look at instead of maintaining eye contact.

“Never mind.”

Suo pulls on your hand, dragging it closer to him in a silent bid for your attention. “Tell me.”

With your exhale, a decidedly pathetic sound, he leans closer. “Sometimes you leave me wondering what you want from me. And… sometimes it makes it difficult to be around you.”

He pulls back slightly, relieving you from the intensity of his stare, turning to the side. “I see.” He turns back to you, eye closed, making him look deceptively serene despite the minute energy that buzzes off him, transferring where he touches your hand. When he smiles, it’s different from before, softer than most you’ve seen from him. After a beat, he looks at you again, and that’s softer, too. “Aren’t you being silly?”

Suo’s smile widens when you click your tongue at him, rewarding him with a half-hearted glare as that knot tightens. “I’m being silly? For what? Never knowing when you’re being flippant or genuine?”

“You know me better than you think. I’ve been exceedingly obvious.”

The roll of your eyes comes on your sigh, annoyance and disbelief mingling in your gut, churning into something that feels uncomfortably close to a revelation. Honestly, you’d rather not get your hopes up again. “Have you now?”

“You still doubt me?”

There’s a light in his eye, a tiny spark of mischief that keeps you from looking away. Pulling on your hand once more, he lifts it as he brings it close. Your inhale gets stuck in the back of your throat, the rapid-fire of your heart seemingly stopping altogether as you watch him bring your hand to his lips. His eye closes and you feel the brush of his breath on your fingers before he presses a light kiss to your freshly bandaged knuckles, lips lingering. Before he pulls away, he opens his eye, leaving himself open in a way he’s never done before.

It frightens you if only because you’re still worried that he’ll pull away entirely, always experiencing your friendship through an opaque lens.

“Is that clear enough?”

It should be. For Suo, it essentially is, actions always speaking louder than his words. But you can’t help yourself when you say, words escaping on your wispy exhale, “Not even a little.”

Wind Breaker Masterlist

#incoming.💌#💜.jelly #wind breaker x reader #suo hayato x reader #wbk x reader #✒.ix writes #wbk.✒#admittedly this got a little away from me but that's also because i was like '😮 must do right by jelly !!'#thank you for your faith in me 💜#suo x reader

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mercurysilk · 2 days ago

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Better Than This? | Teaser

idol!haechan x idol!f!reader wc: 1.5k

summary: It’s been about two years since your relationship with Haechan began, and during that time, you two rarely clashed. Despite demanding workloads, sneaking around behind the scenes, and your tendency to retreat into your own world, your bond remained strong. At least, it was strong until your first argument escalated into your biggest fight, leading to your breakup. Now, as you reflect on your relationship and your actions, you find yourself trying to repair the rift with a man who seems to have completely shut you out.

contents: SWEARING, horrible attempts at humor, slightest most slight smut ever, deepthroating ig, mention of past sex escapades, angst, jealousy, college student writing about idol life :/, aespa is now 5 members... can you guess who the 5th member is?, miscommunication, emotional unavailability, reader is a bit of a bitch sorry she gets better, crying, a little bit of drama, fluff. uhhh that should be it lmk if I missed anything

(A/N: This is my first fic omg I'm finally off the bench... kinda scaryyy. This fic was literally inspired by a conversation between me and my bestfriend + kpop demon hunters LMFAO this could be shit but it could also not be shit idk. I'm open to tips and tricks! my dms are OPEN)

“Are you seriously about to leave?” you ask incredulously following closely behind your boyfriend, “We’re not done talking.”

Haechan ignores you still heading for the front door of your penthouse.

“HAECHAN!” you yell running around him to block the front door, “Why are you ignoring me now? As if you didn’t just basically insinuate that I’d cheat on you?”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything.” He spoke calmly, “I tried to explain what my issue was to you several times y/n, but you refused to listen so I’m leaving now, can you please move?”

“No.”

“Y/n please, we should just try this again tomorrow. Its late and we’re both just getting on each other’s nerves right now.”

“Oh, I’m getting on your nerves?” You laughed bitterly, “I’m not the one turning something as small as a few offhand comments into a huge deal. I was happy to see you today, but instead of enjoying our time together after almost one month you’d rather complain to me about something that happened almost two weeks ago!”

He simply stared at you, his face carrying an unreadable expression.

“No trying this again tomorrow. Can we just clear this up today? Please? I don’t want to fight with you Donghyuck.” You took a deep breath and reached for his hands, but he pulled them away.

“How can we clear it up when you refuse to listen to me?” He asks a bit dejectedly, “You keep brushing the way that I feel off and shutting me down when you feel as though what I’m saying isn’t that serious. I never really noticed before or maybe I just didn’t want to notice, but I think you may have been this way the entire time.”

Perplexed, you exclaim, “What?”

“Have you only been with me this long because I didn’t dwell on the way that you act outside of closed doors despite us being in a relationship?”

“Wha-“

“Why is it that you always push aside my issues with how ‘single’ you act around people who are obviously flirting with you?” he sighed, “and don’t say it’s because I have nothing to worry about, you always say that and I already know that, why can’t you just pay them no mind? Why do you always have to play into it? Then when it comes down to me having an issue with it you get so defensive but why can’t you just say, ‘okay my boyfriend doesn’t like that I do this thing I obviously don’t have to do so I’ll stop’? Why?”

“That was an interview channie that wasn’t real. Why are you acting as if you don’t know how that goes? That man was not seriously flir-“

“You’re doing it again.” He says while throwing his hands into the air, now walking back towards your kitchen.

“Doing what?” you ask while following him, “I’m not brushing you off I’m responding directly to you.”

“It’s not just that interview y/n you’ve been doing this even outside of interviews and I know our relationship is not public, nor do we want it to be, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about my girlfriend flirting with any and everybody.” He stops and leans against the kitchen island looking at you blank faced, “Then when I ask my girlfriend to reel it back a bit because I don’t like it, she tells me to get over it.”

You walk over to the counter in front of Haechan and lean against it mirroring him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It never goes any further than that though and you know it’s only to appease-“

“There you go again.” He cuts you off again for a second time, “Why can you not appease me? Your boyfriend?” He scoffs and stops leaning against the island. “Wow y/n you really don’t care at all about what I think or how I feel huh?”

“Of course I do-“

“Then why is it that every time this topic comes up you never hear me out?”

“I am! I’m just telling you wh-“

“Why can’t you just stop? Why is it always a reason why you HAVE to?”

“What? Do you not trust me or something? Do you not feel as though this is a bit silly-“

“You think anything pertaining to my feelings is silly.” He cuts you off for a third time shaking his head and beginning to walk out of the kitchen, “I do trust you and it’s never been about that. It’s always been about respect y/n, I respect you enough to not do things you don’t like if it makes you uncomfortable no questions asked but when it comes to me? You do this.” His voice falters slightly towards the end of his statement causing alarm bells to begin ringing in your head.

“Why is this suddenly a problem? I don’t understand. I’ve been this way since before our relationship and even after we got together-“

Haechan turns around and looks at you, eyes wide as if you’d grown two heads. “Were you going to say that even after we got together, I had no problem with it? Because that would be a lie. I know you flirt here and there and its just games to you, but I’ve never liked it, and you’ve always shut me down about it. Always.” He looks at you for a second and then looks to the floor shaking his head, “I love you so much y/n but I really don’t think I can do this anymore.”

You stilled and stared holes into the man standing before you.

A beat passes before Haechan turns back around and heads for the front door for a second time only to be stopped again by you.

“I love you too.” You say honestly, your heart beating out of your chest. “I really do channie and I do respect you. I..” You sense the sensitivity of the situation and look up to meet Haechans eyes which appear to be looking right through you, “I’ll stop. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know that it bothered you this bad, every time you brought it up you seemed to be joking. I never meant to make you feel as though what you felt didn’t matter.” You reach out for his hands, vision a bit blurred and this time he lets you hold them.

“Y/n-“

“I’m so sorry channie. I’m so sorry, okay?” You cut him off, "please just don’t leave tonight like this, not like this. Let’s talk tomorrow like you said, okay?” You pleaded shaking his hands at the end of each sentence.

He stared at you for a bit then pulled you into a hug. One hand sliding around your waist and the other caressing your head tenderly against him and you held onto him as tight as you could while your unshed tears began to fall—you could already feel the difference in his embrace.

“Don’t cry y/n” he says holding you tighter.

“Please don’t leave.” You mumbled into his hoodie pulling away to look him in the eyes, heart sinking after seeing that he has also begun to shed tears of his own.

“Y/n I truly do think its best that we end this here. I don’t think I can-“

"I said I would stop," you interject, "and I will, absolutely. I never meant to make you feel that way—I swear, I would never want to make you feel anything but happy."

Haechan gives you a small smile and says, “I don’t doubt that, and you did make me happy, but I think we need some time apart. Maybe there’s someone out there who won’t make such a big deal about your playful flirting, you know? Maybe we’re both at fault here.” He picks up his shoes from beside you and bends down to put them on.

You watch as he puts his shoes on your stomach starting to turn, “So we’re breaking up?”

“I don’t know, I just think we need some ti-“

“We are breaking up.” You state matter-of-factly

He straightens up and glances at you, a little startled by your sudden shift in tone, “well then yes, we’re breaking up, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Then just get out of my house.” You say sternly, “I apologized, I admitted I was wrong, and I promised that I would stop and fix the problem you had with me, and yet you still want to leave.” You turn to stand to the side of the door so that he could exit, “So leave.”

Haechan stares at you, his mouth opening and closing as he keeps changing his mind on what to say, before finally settling on, “We were friends before, and we can still be friends after this, y/n. We don’t have to cut all ties just because our romantic relationship is ending.”

"I want to cut all ties between us," you say flatly, avoiding his gaze. "It's fine, I get it now. Whatever. I don't even care anymore. Just leave."

#haechan #nct dream #nct #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #lee donghyuck #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #nct fic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #haechan fanfic

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incurablefacetofcondition · 13 hours ago

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wanted to reply to the actually relevant post, but replies were limited, and then it was deleted. wanted to try sending an ask but asks were off. wanted to try dming but dms are set to people you're following only. so, here i am. i hope you will read this in good faith. these are not trick questions and i am engaging in good faith myself. if you dont want this on your blog but still want to have a conversation, thats fine, you can tag me in the replies if you'd prefer to respond there, or dm me or something

first off i want to discourage you from using the term "truscum" to describe yourself, regardless of your opinions. the term comes from the phrase "true trans scum" and isn't intended to refer to cis people. you will often see people say things like "theres no such thing as a cis truscum- that's just a regular transphobe." some people also feel that transmedicalist only refers to trans people, but that one is more up for debate and generally deemed more acceptable for a cis person to use for themself, should you continue to hold this stance.

next, maybe you addressed this in the now deleted reblogs somewhere, but i didnt see any statements from you regarding what you think about nonbinary people. do you believe that nonbinary people are the genders they say they are? or also only nonbinary people who want to (or already have) take steps to medically transition?

third, i want to talk about your phrasing of "biological women." theres multiple reasons the preferred term is just "cis women." hormones alter biology, for one. yes, maybe not to being completely identical to that of a cis woman in every single way, but all of the changes hormones bring genuinely change your biology. but, more importantly, this ties into my main point- do you view gender as a social construct?

everything i saw you state before the post was taken down implied that you do not view gender as a social construct. if thats the case, id like to understand what you believe instead. i dont want to speak for you without hearing your beliefs, but i know that there are many people- including some trans people- who view gender as something spiritual, or biological in the sense that you have a female or male brain, what have you. a gendered brain, or soul, or heart.

for the gendered brain belief, this is mostly based on old research that was disproven. men and women do not have gendered brains in any provable way. as for the soul... i am not religious or spiritual, so, no comment.

ill tell you right now that i am one of the people that would easily be deemed a "true transsexual" by transmedicalist standards. im on hormones, ive had chest surgery, ive gotten my name and gender marker changed legally. i am currently vying for genital surgery. and still i do not believe that any of these things are what make me a man. i am a man because i feel that i am a man.

when people say "gender is a social construct," it means that none of these things are inherently linked together. a cis man could want a vaginoplasty or hormones or breast implants without being a woman, cause he doesn't feel that he is one, he just would like to have certain particular features. same thing for a cis woman wanting top surgery, or hormones, or phalloplasty, metoidioplasty. if she says "im a woman, and i would like to have a penis," then she's not a trans man, she's a woman who wants to have a penis. and that's fine!

society has built up the concept of gender revolving around certain traits, but that doesn't make it the immutable truth of the world. so much of gender is performance- the clothing, the haircut, the pronouns, the attempts to modify behavior like crossing your legs or manspreading- but identity is ultimately a very personal thing. you can perform every aspect of womanhood and still know you are a man. you know yourself better than any other.

men and women are not opposites. we're all just people. on an individual level, anything that is true of a man could also be true of a woman, and vice versa. the structures of misogyny are based on a foundation of bullshit. any trait you see in a woman could also be found in a man, any trait you see in a man could also be found in a woman. some things may be more or less common in men or women, but not exclusive. if gender was so strictly inherent and separate, then it would not require policing to uphold.

most trans people hate the phrase "biological women" because we do not believe that being a woman has anything to do with biology. it implies that trans women are lesser, other, and secondary, that cis women are the natural state of womanhood being mimicked, and that the closer a trans woman gets to the biological standard of a cis woman, the more of a woman she is. but her womanhood is her internal sense of who she is! as it is for cis women, too. if you think the phrase "im a woman because i have a vagina" is transphobic, then that's the same reason we don't favor the "biological woman" terminology- your biology is not what makes you a woman. biology is not what makes anyone the gender that they are.

gender is a performance, a social construct, and a whole lot of bullshit. everyone should just do what makes them most comfortable. if that's using he/him as a cis woman, then so be it. if that's not medically transitioning as a trans man, then so be it. if that's seeking as ambiguous a medical transition as possible as a nonbinary person, then so be it. gender only has meaning because we, as humans, give it meaning.

it's remarkable how much more free we all are, looking at gender from this angle. that includes cis people! i think cis people should be allowed to do whatever they want in regards to gender affirming care, too, even if it doesn't make sense to other people. this is true bodily autonomy to me. i once saw an article about an older cis gay man who got a vaginoplasty, and he said "ive had a penis for 60-odd years. ive had all the experiences there are to have with it. id love to try something new." and i thought to myself, how wonderful it is that he could do that. this is the kind of freedom that makes life worth living. i hope he enjoys every second of every moment in his body. i hope we all do.

Mom is a trans ally #confirmed

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bubblestree · 1 day ago

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“I forgot.”

You stood in the entrance of your husband's office. Satoru was lying down on his expensive chair and had a book thrown over his face but that didn’t stop him from smirking and giggling to himself.

“Aww it's ok sweetheart. Do you need any help in remembering?” he leaned forward blinking as if he was some fairy princess.

"No, it'll come back to me eventually." You sighed. There was something you were had been reminding yourself to tell him all day but that day has also been so hectic your brain began to fog it out. You turned to walk out the door before Gojo came from behind and hugged you, your back pressing to his chest. His voice whispering in your ear,

"Oh darling, no matter how forgetful you become it seems you can never forget me."

"You're always around and all over me, how could I." You sighed back smiling tiredly to yourself. "I need to go pick up document from Ijichi. You can head home, I'll catch up eventually."

"You sure you'll remember where you live?" He pursed his lips in a kiss form before he turned on his infinity to save himself from a forehead flick,

"If I don't I'm sure you will find some way to plaster a giant sign on top of our roof and remind me." You laugh too yourself and free yourself from his tight grasp. "Now go home, I'll see you later tonight."

You leave his office and head down to Ijichi's office for your paperwork.

By the time you did return home, the thing you needed to tell Gojo still hadn't returned. Not even a hint of remembrance.

"Hiii sweetheart!!!" His voice lit up like a child and he jumped up from his spot on the floor, near the door. He wrapped his arms around you and pouted up at you. "I missed you so much!! I thought I would die from loneliness." He buried his face into your neck and littered soft kisses all over.

You rubbed your fingers through his hair and laughed at his childish antics. "Please, you've been alone longer than that."

"Doesn't mean I'm not dying. And with your memory loss what if you never come home!?" He kept his pout but moved his kisses up to your cheek.

You felt your eyes roll deeper back into your head and wanted to flick him once more but the sense of fatigue fell heavy onto you and you simply chose to push his heavy body off muttering on how sleepy you were.

That didn't stop Gojo from lifting you up into his arms bridal style, carrying you off into your shared bedroom.

"Don't think I don't notice how tired you are sweetheart." He layed you down onto the mattress and kissed you on your forehead before moving to your lips. "You need to add the beauty to your rest" He smirked at his attempt at a joke while all you could do was sigh and fall back onto your bed throwing your arms over your eyes. He simply laughed at you before heading to the bathroom, "I guess I have to go finish my shower. Don't miss me too much baby!"

Your brain suddenly clicked at that last word, in which you shot up and looked over, "I just remembered what I needed to tell you." The excitement littered in your voice at finally remembering what you needed to tell him.

"Hm, and what would that be~" He leaned back slightly.

"I'm pregnant." You casually said, looking at him with a rather calm and relieved look. After the exhausting day you had to deal with, finally remembering to tell him was all you needed to end the day.

Meanwhile, you could have sworn to see Satoru freeze in his spot, mouth slightly opened and eyes blank with not a thought being shown behind them. The rainbow computer loading wheel could have been seen turning in the middle of his forehead for all you knew.

"Wh-what?" Was all he could muster.

"I'm carrying your child?" You responded, rather confused. With the way he acts around you, he should certainly now the definition of pregnant.

He blinked before suddenly lunging for you and screeching,

"WHAT NO! HOW COULD YOU FORGET TO TELL ME THIS?!"

"It's been a busy day and I kept forgetting to tell you since something else would come up."

"DON'T ACT SO CASUAL THIS IS SERIOUS!! HOW LONG!"

"Shoko said I'm about 2 months."

"WH-WHAT SHOKO KNOWS AND NOT ME?!"

"Now you do."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!!"

He was leaning at the edge of the bed with one knee resting on the mattress while his hands gripped at your shoulders, tears littering his eyes.

"So this is what you forgot to tell me when you walked into my office??"

"Yup. Hey at least I remembered." You shrugged your shoulders and lifted your hand to ruffler his hair while he sighed, exasperated, and buried his face into your chest.

"How can you forget to tell me you're pregnant?!"

"I told you. I was busy." You laughed while now ruffling his hair and rubbing his back at the same time.

"God...please don't forget to tell me when she's born." He pushed his body forward which caused you to lay back down which better allowed him to press his hand against your abdomen and rub his thumb up and down on it.

"I'm not sure if it's a girl yet."

"Trust me it is."

You laughed at his claims while hugging him close and pulling the comforter up to cover both of your bodies.

"Sorry I forgot 'Toru."

"Hmph. Don't be shocked if you find dates written on your belly in permanent marker."

#gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #gojo drabbles #gojo x yn #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #tw: pregnancy #had this idea at work lol #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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theonlyonesora · 3 days ago

Text

The Man Who Married Me

PAIRING: Lewis Hamilton x Reader x Max Verstappen

CH – 05

The house was dimly lit when you stepped inside that evening, heels in one hand, your coat slipping off your shoulder. The familiar scent of home greeted you—warm cedar, the lingering spice of Lewis’s cologne, and the faint citrus of the diffuser in the hallway. It should’ve felt comforting.

Instead, you were still buzzing.

Not from nerves. From excitement. From purpose.

You dropped your bag and made your way toward the living room, already hearing the low murmur of the TV. He was home. The sound of some old race replay echoed faintly, but it was the silence between the commentary that told you he was thinking.

You found him sprawled on the couch, hoodie loose, one arm slung over his head, remote resting on his chest. He turned his head lazily when he saw you.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” You smiled as you kicked off your shoes and flopped down beside him.

He let you settle before he spoke again. “So… how was it?”

You knew what he meant. No need to ask what.

You turned to him, face still glowing slightly. “Honestly? It was great. Max is sharper than I expected. Focused. Serious. He was calm, respectful. And god, Lewis… the data out of the simulator? He’s fast. Really fast. He adapted in, like, ten laps. I haven’t seen that since—”

You caught yourself.

His jaw flexed. “Since me?”

You bit your lip, gently. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know what you meant.” He turned his eyes back to the ceiling, but his fingers gripped the remote a little tighter.

You sighed. “You asked. I answered.”

He didn’t respond at first. The silence stretched.

Then – “You sounded excited.”

“I am excited.” You sat up straighter, pulling your legs beneath you. “It feels like a new era. Like something’s changing for the better. The whole team feels it. And after everything that’s happened this season—after losing You—it’s the first time I’ve felt this hopeful in a while.”

He nodded slowly, like he was trying to understand. But something simmered beneath his cool exterior.

“Glad he makes you feel that way,” he muttered.

You blinked. “Are you… jealous?”

His laugh was dry. “Of Verstappen? Please.” But the way his gaze avoided yours gave him away.

You tilted your head. “You are.”

He shifted, sitting up and facing you. “I just think it’s interesting how fast you went from emotionally destroyed to glowing over Max Verstappen. The same Max you used to call a menace when we were fighting for the championship.”

You raised an eyebrow. “People grow, Lewis. Teams change. He’s not who he was. We’re not who we were. That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly head over heels for him.” You paused, voice softer now. “You’re still my husband.”

His eyes met yours. “Yeah. A husband you had to emotionally detach from just to survive the last few days.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.

He looked away again. “I just didn’t expect you to be so impressed.”

“Maybe that’s because I haven’t had much to be impressed by lately,” you said quietly.

He flinched. Just slightly.

You sighed, reaching for his hand. “I didn’t mean that to hurt you. I’m just being honest. You wanted honesty, remember?”

His fingers closed around yours. “Yeah. I remember.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. The silence now was heavier—but honest. Tangled with unspoken things.

It was late when you finally made your way to bed.

The house had gone still, wrapped in the quiet of midnight. Your laptop was shut, your phone on silent. The storm of the day—calls, data, Lewis’s half-jealous eyes—had finally faded into something slower, quieter. More fragile.

Lewis was already in bed when you walked in, lying on his back, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Shirtless. The sheets pushed low on his hips. His skin gleamed softly in the low light of the bedside lamp, tattoos stretching over muscle and memory.

He didn’t look up as you entered, but you saw the way his jaw ticked. The subtle awareness of your presence. You changed silently, slipping into a top and underwear, your bare legs brushing the cool floor as you crossed to the bed and crawled in beside him.

Still, no words.

You lay beside him in the silence, staring at the ceiling. Listening to his breath. Feeling the distance you hated.

“…I miss you,” you said softly.

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. Dark eyes lingering. Searching.

“I’m right here,” he whispered, like it was both a promise and an apology.

You shook your head. “Not all of you.”

Lewis turned onto his side, leaning over you, one hand brushing the strap of your top. His touch was tentative, but heavy with meaning. He stared at your lips like they held answers.

“You’re the one who pulled away,” he murmured.

“You gave me a reason to,” you shot back gently, breath catching as his fingers trailed down your arm. “I needed to protect myself.”

“And I didn’t?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been drowning and trying to keep this together at the same time. This—us—it’s the only thing I don’t want to lose.”

You searched his face. The pain. The regret. The love still hiding under the mess.

“I don’t want to lose us either.”

The silence snapped like tensioned wire when he leaned down and kissed you. Soft at first. Familiar. Familiar enough to hurt.

Then deeper—hungrier.

His hand slid under your top, warm against your ribs, anchoring you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, lips parting as the kiss turned breathless. Desperate.

His hips pressed between your legs, and you gasped into his mouth. The heat between you was sharp, but it wasn’t just about sex—it never had been. It was about clinging. About needing to feel whole again. Even just for a moment.

“I still want you,” he whispered against your throat, lips trailing your skin, voice hoarse. “No matter what we said. No matter what we agreed to.”

“Then show me,” you breathed, pulling him down to you.

That night, you didn’t talk about rules or open marriagesor jealousy.

You just felt.

His hands were worship, his mouth a prayer. Every kiss, every stroke, every slow roll of his hips was a confession: I’m still yours. And yours was a vow answered with nails digging into his back and soft, broken sounds in the dark.

And when you both collapsed into each other—sweaty, breathless, tangled in limbs and longing—you realized something:

This was not healing. This was holding each other together at the seams.

And for now, that was enough.

TAG LIST: @virtualperfectioncat

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toxicrelief · 3 days ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty-one

Synopsis: A Viltrumite is headed towards earth

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter: 21/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Depictions of Violence, Short Graphic Memory

Note: I love Invincible, the whole show is so :3 but there are so many inconsistencies with things, like why Cecil was able to monitor that Allen was coming, but was blind sighted by Anissa, and the differences in speeds, like mark turning off the light while practically phasing through Amber’s arm in one episode. So I’m having fun trying to utilize/fix those plot holes a little.

Also very show dialogue heavy this chapter.

Cecil is debriefing you, at least you think he is. He’s talking quickly, gesturing at the sizable screen against the wall of the surveillance room. As much as your whole attention should be on whatever Earth’s newest threat is, your mind is only replaying what just happened between you and Rex. That happened, right? It wasn’t another embarrassing dream, that was real. You looked down at your arm and considered whether you should pinch it or not. Does that actually work? You never thought to do that when you’re actually in a dream, so you must be awake.

Fiddling absentmindedly with the teleportation wristband you glanced up at Cecil. The device dug lightly into your skin, leaving grooves when you pushed it to the side. What does this mean going forward? Would you really just be able to talk about it like adults? Seemed unlikely somehow.

“Sir, it just passed by close enough to get footage.”

“Then pull it up, Donald. Christ, what are you waiting for?” Cecil was more agitated than usual, leaning forward on his hands that were pressed against the desk in front of him.

A section of the screen was taken over by a large pop-up; slowed footage of the oncoming Viltrumite. It was a woman, wearing a grey and white suit. She had short dark hair and a steady sneer on her face.

“That’s not Omniman.” An obvious statement, said more to yourself than anyone in the room. You begrudgingly set Rex aside in your mind, finally focusing fully on the situation.

“Astute observation as always, Killdeer.” Cecil didn’t turn to look at you, his eyes closely analyzing the screen.

You shot him a sidelong look. “Shouldn’t you alert the Guardians, Invincible-” You tried to think of anyone else but drew only blanks, “Or…I don’t know, anyone else?”

“We need to see what she wants. If we respond to her appearance with every hero, guns blazing, that might only agitate the whole situation.”

“So, you’re going to wait and see if she decides to level a whole city? Like Chicago?”

“We don’t have much of a choice. This is how it is. You need all the facts before acting.”

You didn’t respond, turning your gaze back to the screen. You didn’t like it. It was leaving too much up to chance.

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ve got you.” Cecil gave you a small nod, it almost felt like he was trying to make you feel better. The statement only made your stomach twist harder, you felt that you had connected to Mark, you’d worked tirelessly with that godforsaken blood bag. But Mark was partially human, even if the Viltrumite DNA had worked meticulously to cleanse him in regards to any trace of genetic humanity. This person was likely full blooded. The pressure felt enormous. Digging into you, ripping at your skin. What if you couldn’t do it? What if you could, but it knocked you out in the process? That would leave everyone with a huge problem, and you, most likely, without a head.

“Coffee?” Donald’s standing next to you now, holding out an already assembled coffee.

“I feel like this is a little below your pay grade.” You gave him a small lopsided smile, but took it, regardless of whether you liked coffee or not, you weren’t about to leave him hanging.

“This isn’t one of my duties, I’m doing it because I can.” He gave you a small nod before turning to one of the agents in the room with you who had walked up to him with a tablet.

From the consistent feed flowing in on the screen, the furious typing coming from the different desks in the room, and the look on Cecil’s face, it was going to be a long night.

The minutes passed painfully slow. The GDA had immense access to just about every type of surveillance they could need, which meant, the first glimpse they had of the oncoming Viltrumite was at least a planet away. A countdown was clicking by, running off to the side of the visual display. Really adding to the feeling of impending doom.

You looked down at your second cup of bad coffee, running your thumb over the paper ridges that were starting to unfurl at the rim. Donald had brought your suit in for you to change into rather than your nightwear, which you appreciated. But changing made it all feel much more real. More serious. The adrenaline was dying away steadily now though, and your mind was starting to drift away again. A few times you opened your phone to message Rex, but you didn’t know what you’d say.

‘Hey, about the fact we made out an hour ago, what’s that about?’ putting your phone down with a sigh you tried to focus again on Cecil debriefing yet another group of people. In the time you had been here, it seemed like Cecil had spoken directly to upwards of forty people. That or you were awful at committing anyone to memory, and the same groups were coming through. Maybe a bit of both.

‘I’ve been really into you for a few weeks now, and I feel really stupid about it because you’ve been a complete and utter ass.’

Worse.

‘I want to do that again. Please.’

Delete his number at this point.

‘Hi.’

You typed it out, tapping the desk in front of you with your other hand. It was beyond late. He should be sleeping by now. Your body ached from an evening of fraternizing in heels, and everything in you wished you were in that bed right now rather than sitting in this office chair. Which had no lumbar support, by the way. The GDA can manufacture a whole hand for Rex but not afford semi-quality chairs?

Even if nothing had happened, and the two of you slept with that stupid pillow between you the whole night. You would be happy just to be near him. Hear his breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep. Maybe it was foolish to think that somehow, he would have had a more restful sleep near you, but you really wondered…

Hey.

Staring down at the screen your incessant tapping paused. He was still awake. You’re straightening up in your chair, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Shit, now what?

You weren’t sure what to say, how to say it. But somehow just his response seemed to relieve some sort of tension within you.

“Goddamn it-”

You looked up, dropping your phone on the desk. The overhead screen moments ago holding live footage of the oncoming threat, was now black. The foreboding countdown stopped at five minutes out.

“What happened?” You stood up swiftly, sending your chair a good foot away.

“She flew straight through our satellite.” Cecil was standing over the shoulder of a GDA agent, monitoring their screen.

“And what? Destroying one satellite makes her disappear?” You’re at his side in an instant trying to learn anything you can from the screen he’s looking at.

“It doesn’t make her disappear, no. But it causes a second delay in the relay with our other satellites. With the speed she was moving at it’s nearly impossible to catch up unless we know where she’s going.”

You look back up at the black screen, the large red timer to the side still frozen with minutes and seconds left over.

“She wouldn’t come here, would she?” Your mouth felt dry.

Cecil is quiet for a moment.

“Cecil, how likely is it she’ll come crashing through that wall?” You gesture with a harsh whisper towards the dark screen, your pulse quickening.

“I don’t know.” It’s surprisingly calm. “You know as much as me as to why she’s here. I don’t know the chances.”

“Because I really want to kiss you…”

It rings out over and over in Rex’s mind. He groans, pulling his hands up to cover his face. He had wanted to kiss her, that was one of the more honest things he had ever said to her. But it hadn’t truly displayed what he was feeling in that exact moment. It was thoughtless. Almost tasteless. After feuding for the better part of the evening he just, kissed her? Weeks of debating what to say, or if even to say anything and he just…didn’t.

Before he might have thought it was enough, he was never good at depicting how he felt. Several memories of evenings with Eve were resurfacing to further cement it.

“Why can’t you just be straight with me, Rex? Just this once.”

“I am being straight with you, what are you even talking about?”

“You knew him for years and you don’t want to go to his funeral? Fine, whatever, but at least talk to me about it. It’s obviously bothering you.”

He had shaken his head and laughed at her, eventually convincing her to let it go and move on to other things. That time in particular being the feeling of his hands trailing up under her shirt.

Sure, he had real conversations with Eve. He trusted her, and by now he had known her longer than anyone else in his life. But he avoided it like the plague, never gave anything up without a fight, or at least trying to shirk around the topic entirely. It was the cause of more than one disagreement, and something he hadn’t thought was a problem. Until this very moment, lying in bed, clutching one of the overly embroidered pillows to his chest.

He wanted to tell Killdeer. He didn’t want to just kiss her, he wanted to let her in.

How do you do that though? Let someone in, show them the ugliness?

Right about now she’d probably say, “I think I’ve already seen the ugliness, Rex.” And laugh. The same fucking laugh he had been forced to hear in the distance all night long. Talking to some phony, uppity, prat no doubt. Every time he caught the sound of it, he’d lose his train of thought and have to ask whatever phony, uppity, prat he was talking to, what they had been discussing. It was torture.

And that wasn’t even entailing how he had felt seeing her walk down the aisle of the plane, silk flowing tastefully down from her collar. His fingers suddenly felt numb, useless as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. With less than agile accuracy he ran through the remaining buttons and moved to put back his shoe box. She had laughed at him then as well, chastising him over the haphazard fashion in which he had made his way through dressing.

He wanted to tell her that it was her fault. Explain that he couldn’t think half the time when she was around, but it was even worse now with her in that dress. He wanted to tell her he thought she looked beautiful, not just beautiful though, something more. Ethereal, maybe. Tell her he was sorry, again, but better this time. He wanted to ask her about the books on her shelf in her apartment, more specifically the tattered chapter book. He wanted to ask her if she regretted not going to the man’s funeral who she learned how to tie a tie for. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t sure if he regretted not going to the director’s funeral. He wanted her to ask about his past, and then in turn tell her. Explain why he struggled to talk about the director, everything.

And then, the overhead speaker announced there were only five minutes until arrival. Far too short to say any of that. At least that’s what he told himself.

The seconds turned into minutes, and still none of Cecil’s methods seemed to locate her again. Instead of your dread lessening like before, it only got worse. The longer no one could find her the more you felt your panic rising. Even if you could stop her, it wouldn’t matter if she flew straight through you before you even saw her.

“Mark?” Cecil’s voice shattered the tense silence in the room, his hand raising to the comm in his ear. “Mark- calm down, what is it?”

The tension inside you was stretching to a breaking point, you needed to do something. You hadn’t felt this exact feeling since you had practiced with Rex. An acute awareness of everyone around you. Your innate connection to them, the ease with which you could overpower every single one of them, even if not for long.

What an odd thought.

“Okay- yes, I hear you, just- Mark.” Cecil’s tone is overly controlled; he’s already gesturing to the worker in front of him. The former dark screen flashes to life, cycling through different satellites and security cameras, slowly honing in.

Didn’t you hear me? I said I only wished to speak.

That hasn’t been my experience with Viltrumites so far.

The angle finally centers, audio crackling to life for the whole room to hear. The woman is floating ahead of Mark, her back to him, arms clasped behind her. They are above a city, lights shining through the night sky.

“Where are they?”

Cecil doesn’t respond.

“Cecil, where are they? Send me in!”

“They’re in the fucking sky, how are you going to be able to reach them, hm?” Cecil snaps, his gaze not leaving the screen.

This was fucking torture, you needed to be of use. Scared or not, this was your duty.

The woman scoffed, turning fully away from Mark.

How little you know of your own people.

They’re not my people.

“We cannot let this become another Chicago, people. Get me everything that you can on her.” A silly notion, she was an alien from outer-fucking-space. They didn’t have anything on her and you knew it. Or else you wouldn’t have been waiting for over an hour watching her.

Oh, we are your people. You simply do not accept it yet.

“We’re doing everything we can in case this turns ugly, Mark, but we don’t have a lot of good options.” He glances over at you, his hand pressed up to the comm again. “Keep her talking as long as you can.”

What do you want?

Mark says without a single missed beat.

We’ve studied this planet.

Good for you.

You stared numbly at the screen. Mark was instigating. Now is not the time to fucking instigate.

Human civilization has less than an eighteen percent chance of surviving the next two centuries without the loss of billions of lives.

Is that a threat?

Goddamn it, Mark.

“Goddamn it, Mark.” Cecil hissed out your internal monologue, turning to Donald. “What do we have?”

“We’re gathering all of our resources but it’s not looking good. Hail Mary had Omniman on the ropes but-” Donald shook his head, creasing his brows, “unfortunately Mark helped kill her, so she’s no longer an option.”

“Christ.” Cecil turned his gaze back to the screen, his knuckles white from clenching the back of a seat.

That is the truth. The powerful of this world destroy their own home. Strip resources for themselves. Large areas of this planet will soon be uninhabitable due to human greed.

Yeah, I know.

Yet here you are, hands in fists, worried about stopping me instead of stopping them.

It’s complicated.

No, it isn’t. We have the technology to repair their climate. Feed their hungry, punish their criminals. We will save more of their lives in a single year than you could in a hundred. You are failing this planet and its people.

At least I don’t kill.

Is this how people saw you when you stumbled over trying to lie about the extent of your powers? If so you needed to get better quickly, this was borderline painful.

Yet, you let thousands die every day you resist Viltrumite rule. Or do those human lives not matter to you?

“Based on bone and muscle density scans, the simulations give Mark a less than eighteen-percent chance of surviving a combat encounter with her.” Donald’s hands are clasped on the edges of the keyboard in front of him. You suppose there was a way he could gather more information on her then.

“Ah. Well, isn’t that poetic?” Cecil pulls up live footage on a small screen in front of him. A man you don’t recognize is dressed in a lab coat, a ReAniman is sprawled out on a metal table behind him.

Cecil, I’m in the middle of-

“How many of my new ReAnimen are ready for the field, right now?”

The field? I-I don’t-

“Answer the goddamn question, Sinclair.”

None! None are ready for the field. We agreed on a schedule, and it-

Cecil pressed his hand to the screen, effectively hanging up.

“I don’t see how you could get any of those any higher in the air than you could get me.” You breathed it out, intentional snark, but you hadn’t fully intended for Cecil to hear you.

He shot you a glare, opening his mouth-

“Sir,”

“What?”

“Satellites are picking up a behemoth-class kaiju. South Pacific. Closing fast on a passenger cruise liner.”

“Shit.” He drawled out.

Viltrumites do not kill for pleasure, even if they sometimes take pleasure in killing. Dead humans do not benefit us in any way.

“Let’s see if she means that. There’s a cruise ship about to get eaten a few thousand miles southwest from you. Tell her you need to save those humans she loves so much.” Cecil lowers his hand with a sigh. “What are our other options, Donald, come on.”

“Sir…”

“There are no other options, Cecil, I don’t understand.” You take a few steps away, running a hand through your hair. “You brought me here as backup, but the time for backup is now, why aren’t you using me?”

“There’s a delicate balance to this all kid. Sending you in means you’re not a secret anymore.”

“Who cares?” You exclaimed; it was a bit louder than you intended. “People could die; Mark could die! There’s no reason for me to be the last thing between Mark and the potential of following his father’s legacy, if there’s no Mark left to be on guard against!” You gesture in a futile fashion at the screen. It now portrayed the two of them battling a giant sea monster. “And what’s the point of not encouraging the fact that as of right now he is good? How are we nurturing that side of him by valuing a secret more than his fucking life?”

Cecil once again opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by the screen. Anissa had practically phased through the creature’s head, taking it out instantly. Gallons upon gallons of blood turned the water surrounding the cruise scarlet.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.” Cecil sighed into the comm.

“Hail Mary wouldn’t have done us much good anyway, it seems.” Donald commented.

The ship slanted and began to sink, most likely from the damage the behemoth had left behind. Cecil looked over one of the GDA agents’ screens again and instructed Mark where the closest landmass was. Once the ship was safely on land, Mark and Anissa stood on a beach. Level with the ground for the first time since they’d seen her coming.

“Send me in. Now Cecil.” You clenched your fists, stepping up to him.

“Did you not see what I just saw?” He held his hand outstretched to the screen. “She ran through that thing’s brains in a fuckin’ millisecond. I can’t just put you out there without a thought, we need to be careful-”

“I only need a millisecond, Cecil!”

“Kid.” He said in a warning tone, his eyes narrowing.

I think you should go now.

You both turned back to the screen, Mark was in a defensive stance, which contrasted strongly with the tight upright position Anissa had been in since her arrival.

“Careful, Mark. She’s a lot stronger than you.”

Remember that we started with reason.

In an instant she’s on him, sending him flying upwards, both of them in the air again.

Goddamn it. If Cecil had just sent you in, you could have stopped this. Your fingers clenched tight against the wristband, as if you could will the object to transport you at this moment. A brief period passes where the two are moving so fast that the cameras couldn’t locate either of them. Empty images of the sky and sea flash by. It’s eerily quiet besides the sounds of Mark’s injured groans over the comms. You can hear the wind rushing by him, and the sound of her punches making impact. It’s all cut off by the rush of water, the camera’s finally catch up to reveal Anissa, floating stagnantly over the water, looking out.

You can see the water ripple softly before Mark surges out of it, heading towards Anissa’s back, only for her to send him flying again. This time, through the side of the cruise boat.

“The Guardians could be on their way but regardless of when we inform them, their ETA would still be twenty-two minutes later. Backup hero teams are standing by, but…”

“It’d be like feeding them to wolves. What else?” Cecil directs his attention to Donald, seemingly ignoring you.

“One carrier group with a boomer and twenty fighters, three orbital gravity weapons, two long-range Q-bombers, but she moves too fast.” Donald glances over at you. “Quicker than Nolan even. They could be a thousand miles away before we even get there.”

“One goddamn Viltrumite all by her lonesome and we’re fucking useless.”

“Sir, there’s… another option.”

Yeah, there’s another fucking option, put me in!

Anissa is back on land again, standing near Invincible. It would be easy, well, it’d be easy maybe. But you had to try, or what was the point of these months of training?

“Mark, listen to me. Say you’ll do it.” What? You felt your face settling into a scowl as Cecil spoke through his earpiece. “Say, ‘fine, I’ll take over the planet.’ You can’t beat her, kid. Say it. Get her to leave, and we’ll get ready for these assholes together.”

No.

It’s rasped out, his voice coming out crackly over the speakers.

“Kid…” Cecil furrows his brow, and you’re stepping forward, grabbing his arm.

“Now, Cecil! Goddamn it, why are you waiting?” You feel helpless, trapped within this conference room. The smallest of voices in your head speaks to you. Tells you something you know but you don’t want to acknowledge. You could make Cecil put you in. How easy would it be? A headache for an hour? Breached trust for a lifetime? Your lips curl into a frown as you consider it, but a loud crash from the audio output tells you they aren’t on the ground anymore.

They’re flying through the air once again, you would say they were fighting, but that would require Mark to actually be doing anything. Anissa wasn’t letting him get a single hit in, every single one of her jabs was meeting its mark. Next, they’re diving so fast that the camera once again can hardly keep up until-

A crack sounds over the speakers, loud enough to make everyone cringe. A few workers put their hands up to their ears, hoping to rub away the assault. The dust displayed on the monitors steadily clears to reveal a huge crater. Anissa and Mark are both at the dead center of it.

This is your last chance to show me you can learn.

She’s crushing Mark’s throat beneath her foot, shoving him deeper into the ground. The earth is crackling around him, accepting him easily. A grave.

“Just say the goddam words, Mark.” Your eyes are on the screen, hand still clenched around Cecil’s wrist as he speaks into the mic again. It’s a horrifying sight, the way she dug her sole into his throat. The choked gurgles.

You’d spent so long idolizing him, believing in him. And he was about to die before your eyes.

His hands that had been gripping at her ankle loosened, dropping back against the ground, a surrendering gesture.

Do it.

“Cecil…” You felt like a broken record, all the anger dropping from your tone and replaced with begging.

Either you need me, or you don’t. Make up your mind.

She grunts, shoving him further down. The earth groans around his head, extremely audible over his comm.

“Cecil, please-” You can see even from how far away the visual is the way that Mark’s hand is twitching. In a few seconds he’ll be gone-

And then- Anissa steps off of him. He gasps for breath, coughs rattling through his body.

“Fine. You’re going in, but I’m not putting you right there. You need to come from the side, make sure she doesn’t fucking see you.” Cecil’s eyes are drilling into you, his expression stone-cold serious. “Don’t be stupid about this.”

“I won’t.” You nod furiously, glancing over at the screen. Anissa is saying something, but you aren’t paying attention, your eyes are glued to Cecil’s. Your grip on his arm loosens and he’s gone.

You knew they had crossed time zones, gone somewhere it was daytime, but god if it didn’t hurt. Cecil was barking directional orders at you, which you followed blindly. Sprinting as hard as you could while trying to will your eyes to adjust, your lungs felt like they might burst by the time you finally saw the edges of the crater.

A blur of white shot out overhead, sending a burst of air towards you, knocking you back. With a groan you force yourself to move forwards again, padding lightly over the ground. You could have been sound asleep right now. The thought settled bitter in your mind as you reached the edge and looked down.

Mark was sprawled out on his back trying to catch his breath. If Anissa was gone, should you even go down? It would surely be suspicious you were there, right? And with how deep the sides were, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d even get down. While you’re debating a familiar electrical crackling settles over your ears, and in the same breath, you’re only a few feet away from Mark, Cecil by your side.

“You really rolled the dice on that one, Mark. All over a few words.”

“It’s more than just words.” Mark looks defeated. Nursing a black eye and a bloodied nose, he’s hunched over his knees.

Cecil glances over at you, considering, before he steps forward to offer Mark a hand up.

“She was strong.” Mark grunts out while raising up to a standing position. “I’m not sure I could stop her if she started killing people.” He notices you now, his gaze tightens almost unnoticeably, but he doesn’t comment on it. At least not yet.

“Well, we’re gonna figure out a way to change that. But those nights off you wanted? I’m afraid that’s a thing of the past.”

“Yeah…” Mark looks off in the distance, deep in thought.

“You took a hell of a beating. Killdeer can help patch you up, if you want.”

You nodded absentmindedly, only partially listening to the conversation. Now that the immediate threat was gone your mind was swirling. You felt useless. This one time you could have helped, the only person who could have. And Cecil hadn’t put you in. Anissa was gone now, but what if she hadn’t decided to let Mark go? He’d be dead, and they’d be standing around his body now.

No one trusted your competence. Not Rex. Not even Cecil. It was like acid on your tongue, resentment starting to build off of you. You were a glorified fucking nurse.

The darkness of the room enveloped you. Besides the constant ticking of a timepiece on the mantle, it was dead silent. After standing for a bit, letting your eyes adjust to the pitch black, you were able to make out another sound. Soft inhales, gentle exhales, shallow breathing. The minuscule light from over the curtains illuminated the room just enough that you could get around without tripping over the furniture. Making your way to the bathroom, you settled down the new bag Donald had sent you with that contained clothes for the brunch. If you are lucky, you could get a good five hours of sleep in before the final leg of your mission.

Slipping out of your suit and back into your nightwear you exited the bathroom. For the briefest of moments, you considered sleeping on one of the couches. Getting into bed could wake Rex. Trailing your hand over the upholstery, his words from earlier echo through your mind.

“Do I really repulse you that badly?”

With a sigh, you approached the bed. He was on his side, facing inwards. One of his hands rested over your side, while his other arm underneath him clutched the pillow you had put between you earlier. Not exactly the Great Wall of China in barrier terms. It made you smile. With as sour as you were feeling, it was nice to see him peaceful. At ease. His brow was relaxed. Even when he was sleeping, he somehow maintained the smallest semblance of that familiar asshole smirk.

You pulled your side of the blanket down, smoothing out the sheet beneath it with your fingertips. Your hand brushed against his as you gently pushed it closer to him so you could lie down. His hand twitched subtly but he didn’t stir. Settling into the bed, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, replaying over and over how you had begged Cecil to let you help. You ran through scenario after scenario, asking yourself how you could have reworded it to make him listen. But even in the freedom of your imagination it all ended the same, nothing you could have said would have changed anything. In the end, there was always one consistent factor; you. And nothing you said could change that truth.

Rex shifted in his sleep beside you, his hand that was originally settled where you were supposed to be, stretching out again, catching softly on your arm. He didn’t grab you, nor did he pull it back. His digits just rested against your skin, not at all registering that you were there.

Even without him knowing or intending it. You managed to turn your mind to the gentle touch, close your eyes, and drift to sleep.

It had been almost two weeks since you relived your museum mission in your dreams. Somehow knowing what had happened, and that it was real, seemed to put you at ease. You still felt immense guilt, and before going to your shifts at the hospital you would stop by his memorial to make sure there were fresh flowers. Donald’s explanation about self-preservation had somewhat put you at ease too, after all, you were shot and going down. If he had posed a real threat, you wouldn’t have thought twice about taking him down. But killing him?

It had been almost two weeks. Now you were waking up with a cold sweat, gasping out breaths, as tears pricked at the edges of your vision. Every time you had it you seemed to notice more details. The way his face turned purple, bruising beneath the skin as all of his blood rushed forwards. How in seconds, droplets started to leak from the very pores of his face. The feeling of impatience and pulling the remainder out through his chest. The way it scored over the painting, a Jackson Pollock of your own design.

Soft daylight spread through the room, illuminating it in columns. You tried to focus on anything else to shake off the adrenaline left over from the nightmare. The clock quietly ticks away on the mantle. The golden etches on the ceiling. The red furnishing on the couches- The empty space next to you on the bed.

Where’s Rex?

Creaking grabs your attention as the door cracks open, revealing a familiar face from the night before.

“Ah, good. You’re awake. Director Stedman alerted Madam Mune of your night excursion, so she instructed me to let you sleep in. The brunch has just started. Mr. Sloane and Mr. Randalph are already downstairs. Please get dressed and I will walk you down.” Gareth’s head disappeared behind the door again before you could respond.

Right. The brunch.

Today, what you were wearing was much less elegant, but still formal. Most of all, you were glad to have pants. As beautiful as that dress had been, you missed pockets. After forcing yourself out of bed and into your current clothes, you leave the room, letting Gareth lead you downstairs. A part of you expected to end up back in the ballroom, but instead, he led you outside into the garden.

The cocktail tables that littered the stone patio the previous night had disappeared. A bar had been put together near the glass doors of the ballroom, decorated with soft pastels. Why anyone needed to drink at noon you couldn’t say. But you figured it most likely was a way for Mune to talk people out of their money more easily. Wooden tables were sprawled out in rows on the grass, surrounded by matching wooden chairs. The tables were all set with dishware, and alternating colored napkins. From the looks of everyone’s plates, the event had started at least an hour ago. Some people were sitting, others were standing and talking, while the remainder strolled around the different branches of the gardens. You caught the eye of Mune who had gathered a large crowd around her, she didn’t wave, or smile, but gave the slightest, tilted, bow in your direction.

A man in a dark crimson coat stood next to her, Lance, you realized. He blended in surprisingly well. If you didn’t know his position you’d think he was just another guest. Gareth tapped your arm sharply, and when you looked over, he pushed a small object into your hand. You nodded, and with that he was gone, mingling in with the crowd. Turning your head, you pretended to adjust your hair, slipping the earpiece in. Back to work.

This event was much more lax than the dance, people were talking to you in passing, mentioning how they remembered seeing you, or your dress, or asking you how you knew Mune. A few asked which oil companies your family had been involved with, which had you saying you saw someone waving you over- oh you didn’t see them? They were just over- and then walking away. You should probably be taking this all much more seriously, but with the level of exhaustion you were trying to function with you could hardly be bothered. What were the odds that someone would try something less than twenty-four hours after the last attempt?

“You look like you slept like shit.” Zandale slid in next to you as you stood at the bar. Your previous sentiments about not needing to drink this early in the day was long forgotten after the last person asked you to explain in heavy detail how oil was really collected.

“I did.” You muttered, sipping on a mimosa that tasted suspiciously like plain old orange juice.

“Damn, I figured Rex would get more palatable after getting some, but I guess not-”

You choked at that, a burning sensation traveling up your throat as you coughed. “What?” You huffed it out between coughs, waving off the bartender who approached to check on you.

“Rex. He’s somehow more insufferable than usual. Well at least for the new and improved Rex.” He made air quotes as he spoke.

“Oh god, Zandale. Are you joking?” You sputtered out a few extra coughs, squinting at him.

“You just said-”

“I said I slept like shit. Nothing else.” You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t even get to sleep there most of the night.”

“Why?” Confusion is shown clear in his tone if nothing else.

“Cecil needed me for a patient at the hospital.” You paused for a moment. Mark had seen you, and he worked closely with the Guardians. If you weren’t careful, you’d be eating your words, and eating them soon. “There was a situation with Invincible, I was brought in to heal him. Didn’t get back until sometime around four or five this morning.” Vague enough that details could be explained away, but direct enough that he wouldn’t want to inquire further.

“Are you kidding me?” Zandale sighed heavily, gesturing for the bartender to come back and give him a drink.

“What?”

“I just lost another fucking twenty to Rae.” He responded bitterly.

“What?” You scoffed. “First of all, you never seem to win in bets with her why do you keep making them? Second, what was it?”

He grumbled nondescriptly.

“You brought it up, man.”

“Fine. God. I bet that you guys would get together last night. But judging from Rex’s sour mood, and you not even being on the premises, I was wrong.” His lips curled downwards at the realization that Rae was once again going to laugh in his face.

“Why on earth are you both so interested in this? Don’t you have literally anything better to do?”

“Eh, don’t take it personally, we’ve been betting on shit for ages. My last big win was that Shapesmith was an alien.”

“How much did you win that time?”

He hummed softly, a small smile crossing his face. “Next question.”

“Five bucks, huh?” You laughed, finishing off your glass.

“Well, something like that.”

The brunch was passing without a hitch. Boring conversations shrouded by constantly looking out for one, particular, face. But as the afternoon passed you didn’t even see him in the passing crowds. Once or twice, you thought you had, just for the person to turn around, revealing a total stranger. You rejoined with Zandale a few times, making comments about guests who you suspected were cheating on their spouses with other guests. One of you even caught two of them trying to sneak off and were offered a bribe. Which you ended up declining and then wondered why on earth you just declined that large a sum of money.

The receivers were dead silent up until the end when Lance announced to his crew that it would be time to start herding the guests out in half an hour. Conversations were lulling, Mune had already left the event entirely a few minutes ago, declaring that everyone must come again in a few months. It was peaceful almost.

A soft breeze was licking at your arms, shifting your hair faintly. It kept you cool underneath harsh unforgiving rays. Lance had tasked you with circling the perimeter of the garden, acting as a sheepdog, and pulling the remaining guests to the center. At one point you end up taking off your shoes. Heels weren’t the most efficient choice for grassy terrain. It’s soft and lush beneath you. The travelling wind sets off a few chimes that are hanging loosely from trees nearby. For the briefest of moments, you’re there.

That secret place you’ve always dreamt of. A countryside home. Every gentle breeze sends a tingle down your spine. A tin roof, windchimes, wildflowers, a fireplace. Maybe there is a little gazebo behind the house. You aren’t alone.

Stepping out of the gardens, you take a final look behind you, anyone you had passed you’d informed that the event was coming to a close, but a few stragglers were still following behind. A dull buzzing pulled your attention away. You had to be sure to send Donald your thanks to whoever chose your outfit for the brunch. It really was nice to have pockets again. Pulling it out, you shift your attention from the people passing you and heading towards the center of the open plain. Cecil must have found something more out, messaged you the new plan-

Hi.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked up. Quickly, you scanned through the crowd of people, pastels and atrocious hats, until your gaze caught on a familiar ginger hue. Rex was standing with his elbow propped on the edge of the bar, a person was talking to him, but his eyes were on you. He was a little far off but you could still make out an almost boyish grin that was spread across his features, it only widened as you finally met his line of sight.

‘Hey.’ You texted back, looking up again to give him a small wave, which he returned gently, with a slight tilt of his head.

Author's note: Dreams normally only last 5-45 minutes, so Killdeer didn’t have a nightmare until after Rex left the bed 😛 Which could mean nothing!!

Also yes, I do giggle to myself when I make references to insignificant details from other chapters, why do you ask?? I LOVE CALL BACKS

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @cheeyan @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes @insirecrate @isnotraven @thatonegayloser616 @viovya @miss-ivy-kyle request to be tagged for new parts!

Chapter twenty-two

#rex splode x reader #enemies to lovers #slow burn #no beta we die like rex splode apparently #crawling back to you rexfic #invincible #rex splode #invincible season 3 #invincible rex splode #rex sloan #rex sloan x reader #invincible fic #invincible rex sloan #invincible reader insert #invincible fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #rex x you #rex x reader

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eternallyordinary · 1 day ago

Text

“The Exception” - Part 4

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋⁺˚⋆｡

Summary: The air changed, your skin knew, and deep down, some part of you already understood: nothing would ever be the same.

Warnings: violence, death, kidnapping, power imbalance, possessiveness, manipulation, emotional tension, stalking, implied violence, murder planning, toxic relationship dynamics, yandere

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋⁺˚⋆｡

Something’s changed.

You feel it like pressure behind your eyes. The moment before the storm.

The air’s too still, the room feels too wide. Or maybe you just feel too small.

You sit cross-legged on your bunk, same metal tray on your lap. Same white rice in a discolored bowl. Same cracked cup of lukewarm tea. Same bottle of whole milk.

You glance around at the others. Everyone is hunched and exhausted. No one seems to notice anything different.

Are you just overthinking?

Wouldn’t be the first time.

You’ve been overthinking since you were literally five years old.

Since you asked your grandma if the sun would explode and she said, “Not for billions of years,” and you spent two weeks checking the sky every five minutes just in case she was wrong.

Since you used to flip the light switch on and off until it felt “right.” Since you counted your steps in fours. Since you had to tap both sides of a doorway evenly or else something awful would happen—but you never knew what. Just that it would. Definitely. Certainly. Absolutely.

Your brain doesn’t stop. It never has.

It chews through every silence. Every glance. Every unfinished sentence. Every second someone takes too long to respond.

It makes patterns out of nothing and danger out of patterns.

And now?

Now you’re in a place where real things are dangerous. Where people actually do die if they make the wrong move. Where guards with guns don’t blink before pulling the trigger.

So how are you supposed to know what’s real?

What’s fear, and what’s instinct?

You press your fingers against your temple, trying to ground yourself.

Maybe nothing’s wrong.

Well, besides the obvious.

Maybe you’re just spiraling again.

Constantly building catastrophes in your head. Spinning one second of stillness into the end of the world.

You rub your arms, suddenly freezing.

“Eat,” a guard snaps from the wall.

You flinch. Pick up your spoon. You don’t taste the food, you just chew.

You keep your eyes down, but your mind is sprinting.

Overthinking. Please just be overthinking.

God, you’d give anything to be wrong about this. To be the girl who’s just thinking too much.

Fuck.

This is all your fault.

That voice in your head? It’s not the kind that screams. It whispers. Cold and certain.

You should’ve known better.

You should’ve stopped daydreaming years ago. Should’ve stopped thinking you were special. That maybe you were meant for something different—something better than what you were given.

You always had your head in the clouds. Pretending. Escaping. Telling yourself that if you played your cards right, life would finally stop hurting. That if you kept fantasizing hard enough, kept making yourself small enough, kind enough, sweet enough—something would change.

You hoped someday, you’d wake up in a softer world.

But no one ever tells you how dangerous daydreams can be when you grow up in the wrong place.

Not something they teach you in school.

People can smell it on you—the desperation, the hope, the willingness to believe in something nicer. Something better.

How easy it is to mistake an opportunity for a miracle.

And how simple it is for people to take advantage of you.

You’re the kind of girl who wants to believe people are good, even when they’re not. You mistake charm for kindness, confidence for safety.

You think too long before saying no, hesitating when you should run.

Too polite. Too lonely. Too desperate for something that felt like a way out.

You thought you were being offered a role. A chance. A job that could finally turn things around.

You wanted so badly to believe someone saw you. Noticed you. Chose you.

And, fuck, they chose you alright. But not for the reasons you prayed for.

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. Taste blood. It helps.

You wrap your arms around yourself and look at your hands as they tremble.

You should’ve known.

No.

No, you’re not doing this.

You’re not going to lose yourself. You can’t.

That’s how you die.

A hand suddenly brushes your shoulder, making you flinch so hard your tray clatters.

Before you can move, fingers close around your arm—firm, gloved, quiet.

“Come with me,” the guard murmurs under his breath, barely moving his helmet. His voice is low. Controlled. Like he’s trying not to make a scene.

Too late.

“Eh?” a voice behind you barks out.

You already know who it is.

That douchebag Thanos.

Is that even his real name?

He’s built like a wall and acts like a god. No one’s corrected him. No one dares.

He leans forward from his bench, smirking like it’s funny. “Ohhh… American girl,” he says, loud enough for half the room to hear. “What did you do?”

Nam-Gyu snorts, mouth full of food. “Probably tried to bribe them with her pretty eyes.”

You stiffen under the guard’s grip. “I didn’t do anything,” you whisper, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

The cafeteria buzzes louder now. A few players stop eating. Others start whispering.

Your heartbeat spikes like a grenade under your ribs.

Don’t panic.

Don’t show fear.

But your chest tightens. Breath shortens. You can’t pull enough air in if you tried.

“Are you okay? Hey, what are you doing to the girl?!” a voice calls out. He’s hesitant, but strong enough to be heard.

You turn to see Player 456 stepping forward. His brows are knit, expression uncertain, but he’s watching you. Watching the way your hands shake.

His English is rough, but he tries.

The other guards move.

One raises his rifle—

BANG.

The shot blasts through the air, shattering the tension into chaos.

Screams. Shouts. Trays crashing.

“BACK TO THE BUNKS!” the lead guard bellows. “Anyone out of line will be eliminated.”

People scramble. Thanos mutters something under his breath but sits back down. Nam-Gyu glares but follows. Even 456 backs away, jaw clenched, eyes still locked on you.

One last look.

Then he disappears behind the crowd.

And you?

You’re being dragged toward the door.

Your legs are jelly. Your pulse is screaming. You don’t know what you did. You don’t know what’s happening.

The doors open and close with a hiss.

Silence.

Just cold, sterile air.

And then—

A man steps forward.

Not a guard.

No red suit. No mask.

He’s tall, handsome. He’s wearing a sharp black suit like he just walked off the cover of a magazine.

He reaches up slow, deliberate. Fingers curl under the edge of his black mask and he pulls it off.

He’s beautiful.

Unsettlingly so.

Dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, lips soft but dangerous. There’s a quiet elegance to him. Like someone born into power and perfectly at home in it.

But it’s not just the way he looks…

It’s the way he looks at you.

He sees you.

Really sees you.

And the strangest part?

You haven’t even spoken a word.

No name. No reason. Just silence.

But his gaze still undoes something in you.

He steps in closer. You stay still.

His hand reaches for your face slowly, like he’s trying not to startle a wild animal. His palm brushes your cheek, warm and steady.

He watches your reaction with quiet interest, like he’s cataloging how you flinch. How your breath stutters when his thumb grazes the corner of your mouth.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs. “You’ve been running on fear for so long, you don’t even know when you’re safe.”

His fingers trail into your hair, gathering a lock and twisting it around his knuckle like he’s done it before. Like he’s thought about doing this a lot.

“Don’t fight it,” he says, eyes flicking down to your mouth. “There’s nothing out there for you anymore.”

He brushes his thumb across your lips once before sliding the pad of his finger into your mouth. Not forcefully. Not fast. Just enough to feel the warmth of your tongue.

Your lips part on instinct, eyes growing wider.

Fuck, those innocent eyes.

He watches you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like this is his right.

“You’ll understand soon,” he whispers.

Then, with one final pass of his fingers down your jaw, he exhales like a decision’s been made.

“You need rest.”

Your stomach twists. “What—?”

He lifts his hand. There’s something between his fingers. Sleek. Metallic. A syringe.

“No—wait—”

But it’s already happening.

His arm wraps around your waist, and he’s surprisingly gentle as he pulls you against his chest.

You struggle, panic flashing white-hot in your head, but he holds you still with terrifying ease.

“Shhh,” he breathes against your ear. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You barely feel the needle pierce your skin.

Just the warmth spreading.

The numbness.

Your knees buckle.

Your last glimpse before the world tilts is his face. Still calm, still watching—like this is exactly how he wanted it to go.

And right before everything fades, you hear him whisper:

“Already such a good girl.”

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋⁺˚⋆｡

PART 5

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