#time to find some new systems to play

[chibishortdev]

Mapping is pretty tedious… I’ve made a little floor plan to make it a bit easier, but it’s far from final. Likely will have some downsizing done to it.

Having this in the program itself is fun because I can set the starting point in this at any time and test how nicely each of these rooms flow together. It’s also pretty surreal since it’s all placeholder tiles, smaller scale, and no separation between rooms.

Hmm I already see a couple things I want to change about it—

[socialjust-ish]

I think the death of the handheld console has led to a lot of kids not getting to enjoy buying their own games. And that sucks.

[myladybelle]

good trouble

pairing: johnny storm x fem!reader summary: you’re trouble in the most irresistible form: brilliant, daring, and utterly captivating. simply put, you’re exactly the kind of woman who makes someone like johnny storm forget the world and fall in love without warning. tags: bombshell!reader, astrophysicist!reader, johnny is down bad bc obviously, slow burn mutual pining goodness warning(s): no spoilers for fantastic four: first steps, reader wears a dress, heels, and makeup, period accurate misogyny (boooo), academia-based sleep deprivation, making out/slightly suggestive content (no smut) word count: 13.6k (i really put the slow in slowburn) note: first johnny fic!! seeing joseph quinn on the big screen really made me go back to my roots and start writing for the mcu again... anyway, i hope everyone enjoys 🩷

masterlist

Johnny Storm probably fell for you the second he laid eyes on you. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Especially not with a crowd to charm and flashbulbs hunting for his best angle. But there you were, drawing eyes in a dress that seemed designed to ruin him, all soft shimmer and sharp silhouette, the kind of entrance that made the room hold its breath just long enough for him to notice.

You didn’t even glance his way as you entered. That was the maddening hook. 

The Future Foundation’s annual charity gala was an overengineered marvel in itself; crystal orbs floated mid-air like captive stars, a jazz band played from a suspended glass platform, and waiters balanced trays of molecular appetisers that emitted little clouds of lavender-scented vapour. Reed had designed the centrepiece: a rotating scale model of the solar system that actually adjusted to the planets’ real-time positions.

Johnny had been leaning on the bar, nodding politely through a monologue by some famous actress, when the atmosphere shifted. Heads turned. You glided through the crowd with a tilt of your chin that said the flashbulbs were just part of the décor. Diamonds at your ears caught the light; your lips a bold crimson promise; your gown shimmering in that dangerous shade neither silver nor gold, but a perfect champagne hue.

It wasn’t that you belonged here. You belonged everywhere, that was obvious. But you didn’t orbit anyone, and that was unusual in Johnny’s world. People clung to him, Reed, Sue, and Ben, for reflected light. You seemed perfectly content to generate your own.

“Who’s that?” Johnny asked Ben, who was already smirking like a man who’d just spotted trouble.

“You don’t want to know,” Ben grumbled, which of course only made Johnny want to find out more. 

Reed spotted you almost instantly—no surprise, given that the gala swarmed with senators and starship engineers alike, and you were one of the few who could pass in both circles. When he reached you, his handshake was warm, his smile almost paternal. Reed had been one of your PhD advisors at Caltech, someone you admired professionally and respected personally.

You hadn’t been able to keep in touch as much as either of you would have liked to—his time leading the Fantastic Four and saving the world monopolised most of his time—but seeing your old mentor again brought on a wave of homesickness.

“You look wonderful,” Reed said, a genuine warmth in his voice. “It’s great to see you!”

“You too, Dr Richards,” you replied with equal enthusiasm. 

“Reed,” he corrected with a chuckle. “I haven’t been your advisor in years. Listen, I know this is sudden, but I could really use your expertise. Would you consider consulting on a new project?” Reed leaned in, voice dropping so the jazz band couldn’t drown him out. “Astrophysics, of course. High-profile, a great deal of data to sift through. I could use your perspective—I’ve missed your mind in the lab.”

You grinned at that, the corners of your mouth tugging with real affection. “You always did know how to make an offer sound irresistible.”

“I mean it,” Reed said. His eyes twinkled with the faintest trace of amusement. “We’ve got some new readings from the Kepler Array that don’t quite add up. I thought of you immediately.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” you said, tilting your head. “And a little suspicious.”

“Suspicious?”

“You’ve just admitted the smartest man I know needs my help,” you teased. “Either the universe is in real trouble, or you’re buttering me up for a committee meeting from hell.”

He laughed, that rare warmth lighting his face. “It might be both.” Reed squeezed your arm reassuringly. “You’ve always had a knack for cutting through the noise. It would be great to work together again.”

The familiar spark of pride and challenge flared inside you. “Well, someone has to keep you out of trouble. And if it involves star charts and black holes, I’m your woman,” you agreed. 

Truthfully, Reed’s offer couldn’t have come at a better time. You were looking to get back into research, and you knew the Future Foundation had resources you could only imagine in your dizziest daydreams.

Reed chuckled quietly. “Speaking of trouble, this gala’s a world away from the lab. But it’s necessary; funding won’t flow otherwise.” He paused, eyes sharpening. “I know you don’t mind the magazine covers or tabloids, but this is another level of criticism. And it’s only going to get worse once you start working with us.” 

You shrugged, smirking. “I’m good with trouble,” you said lightly. “Comes with the territory when you’re as visible as I am. You don’t have to worry about me, Reed.”

Reed nodded, relief flickering in his eyes. “Good. You haven’t changed—you still have that same spark. It’s what made you my best student at Caltech.”

As you caught up, you glanced around. Flashes from photographers punctuating the air like tiny bursts of lightning, illuminating faces polished to perfection. The room thrummed with whispered conversations and clinking glasses.

You were accustomed to having eyes on you at public events like this, having been dubbed "Astrophysics Barbie" amongst other not-so-affectionate nicknames in the scientific community. 

Across the room, Sue appeared beside Johnny and Ben, arching an eyebrow at the look of awe plastered on her little brother’s face. “More distracted than usual, Johnny. Who’s the latest wildfire?” 

Ben snickered at her pun.

Johnny shrugged, trying to act casual but failing spectacularly. “Just someone who caught my eye when she walked in. She lit up the entire room without even trying.”

Ben snorted, shaking his head. “Careful, Johnny. You’re already playing with matches, and we all know how that ends.” 

Johnny shot him a mock glare and turned to Sue. “Do you know her? Ever seen her at these events before?”

Sue glanced over at you, her smile thoughtful. “Not personally, but she’s impossible to miss. Last I heard, she’s the face of astrophysics and a shoo-in for the Nobel one day. And, not that I trust tabloids, but I hear she’s a real firecracker. I think she used to work with Reed.”

Before Johnny could press for more, Reed called out, “Sue, come here! I want you to meet someone.”

Johnny watched as Sue approached you. The moment you started talking, her face lit up with genuine warmth. Johnny could tell that Sue immediately liked you, based on the way she embraced you and threw her head back laughing.

You looked untouchable, like you belonged to a world far above theirs.

Ben stood beside Johnny, arms crossed, smirking.

Johnny, painfully aware of his friend’s knowing grin, rolled his eyes. “Don’t you dare say a word,” he warned.

“There’s not much to say,” Ben said, eyes twinkling.

Johnny tried not to show it, but Ben saw right through him. You had him completely hooked. 

You were deep in conversation with Sue when you caught the unmistakable blur of Johnny Storm cutting through the crowd as if the gala was his personal runway. 

He arrived just close enough to interrupt, voice dripping with that cocky charm that usually made women melt like wax.

“Careful,” Johnny said, eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned in, “that dress? Absolutely lethal. I’m surprised they let you into the Baxter Building looking like that.”

You met him with a slow smile, the kind that said you knew his game and weren’t impressed. “Lethal’s one word for it. I know you’re usually the one who brings the heat, so I figured I’d give you a break tonight.”

His grin twitched, unsure how to take your response. Johnny couldn’t tell if you were indulging him or mocking his flirtation. “And here I was, thinking I’m the only one who can handle the fire.”

You laughed, smooth and low. “Oh, Mr Storm. I’m no stranger to fire.” Your eyes flicked to the sharp line of his jaw, the bravado barely masking the nerves you caught so easily. Most people wouldn't have caught his tell, but you could see right through him. “I don’t think you’re ready for this level of trouble.”

Johnny took a step closer, undeterred. “Try me.”

“Please,” you said, voice dripping with mirth. “You’re going up against someone who’s been running circles around geniuses and politicians since before you could light up like a glowstick.”

He laughed, that confident burst you’d heard before, but now there was a crack. “You might be trouble, but I like trouble.”

“Careful what you wish for.” You tilted your head, letting the light catch in the sequinned edge of your gown, the picture of polite interest. “You’re used to people falling over themselves when you walk into a room, aren’t you?”

Reed and Sue watched, visibly amused as you dismantled Johnny’s bravado without breaking a sweat. Reed nodded approvingly—you were still the sharpest mind in the room.

After all, you were the only one who truly saw through Johnny. The rest of the world—helped along by his brother-in-law—was content to believe he was just a raucous playboy without the brains of his teammates. But anyone who really knew Johnny knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Johnny’s grin faltered briefly but came back full force. “Depends on the room, I suppose.”

Something softened in your voice. “You’ve got charm, I’ll give you that.”

Johnny’s gaze locked with yours, and for a breath, he thought you might be flirting back. The way your eyes lingered, the small dip in your smile. But then he caught himself and stepped back just enough to reset.

“You must be new to the gala this year,” Johnny said, struggling to regain his footing. Usually, women crumbled the moment he showed any interest in them. Your resistance was a new game, and it was throwing him off.

You smiled wider, a flash of something mischievous in your eyes. “You’re the one plastered on the front page of every tabloid in town. Maybe I’m just here to see if the legend lives up to the hype.”

Sue and Reed exchanged glances that communicated how much they were enjoying your showdown.

Johnny’s eyes flicked between you and them. Then, suddenly, “Dance with me,” he said, all charm and dare.

You tilted your head, running your eyes down the length of him in a lazy sweep. Johnny tried not to flush. Then, you shook your head. “Not tonight, hotshot. I have more important things to do than indulge your ego.” 

Turning to Reed and Sue, you hugged them tight and promised to see them soon.

“Well, it was interesting meeting you, Mr Storm,” you said, voice playfully formal. “I dare say this won’t be the last time.”

“It was my pleasure,” Johnny said, still watching you leave. 

Raising an eyebrow, your grin slipped into a smirk. “I’m sure it was.”

Winking at Sue, you slipped away, leaving Johnny with that half-charmed, half-frustrated look that said losing the last word was a challenge he intended to meet. 

When you glanced back, Johnny was still watching you go. He laughed, sharp and delighted, once you were out of sight. “Wow,” he muttered, reaching up to muss his perfectly styled hair.

Reed sipped his champagne with the faintest grin. “This ought to be interesting,” he murmured to no one in particular.

The elevator dinged and slid open onto the 33rd floor, the part of the Baxter Building where brilliance lived and breathed. Reed’s lab was the kind of organised chaos you had expected from your former mentor. 

A vast playground of polished metal surfaces, blinking consoles humming with quiet purpose, and holographic displays casting pale blue glows that danced in the curved white walls like ghosts of the future. It was part cathedral, part spaceship, part mad scientist’s dream. 

You stepped out, hips swaying just enough to remind the room that brains and beauty could live in delicious harmony. Your pencil skirt clung with precision, but it was the crisp white of your lab coat that told everyone you meant business. 

“Good morning, Reed,” you greeted, extending a take-away cup like a peace offering. The aroma promised the kind of caffeine salvation only a day in this lab could justify. “Hope your coffee order’s still the same as it was yesterday.”

He barely looked up, fingers dancing over a cluster of blinking controls. “Good morning,” he murmured, voice heavy with frustration. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m trying to recalibrate the Excelsior’s propulsion matrix. The harmonic oscillator’s behaving like it’s got a mind of its own.”

You took a step closer, eyes narrowing as you caught the cascade of floating schematics, the faint pulse of light tracing circuits in midair. “The resonant frequency isn’t syncing with the quantum dampers?” 

Reed’s eyes lifted, surprise flickering like a flare. “Exactly. Thought it was a software glitch at first, but—”

You cut him off, pointer finger floating over a bank of circuits. “You’re missing the feedback loop with the nano-turbines. It’s causing phase cancellation. If you adjust the pulse width modulation on the transistor array here, it should smooth out the interference.”

Reed’s lips twitched in a rare grin. “You always were the quickest in the room,” he recalled. 

You weren’t one of those scientists who spoke jargon to sound smart; you were succinct and clever. Reed was pleased that his star student still managed to outshine him after all these years.

“Honestly, I should have known you’d have a handle on this,” he commented. “Not just astrophysics but all the messy engineering that keeps a ship flying.”

You gave a mock innocent shrug, eyes sparkling. “What can I say? I like feeling intellectually superior to the poor souls I usually get stuck working with.”

Reed chuckled, shaking his head. He knew exactly the kind of misogynistic jerks you often had to work with, so he couldn’t blame you.

That glow of pride from impressing Reed warmed your chest, but before you could savour it, the elevator door opened and Johnny marched in, all swagger and smirk.

“Hey, mind if I hang around?” Johnny said, grinning like he knew the effect it usually had on women. “I’m sure this tech wizardry’s beyond me, but someone’s gotta keep you entertained.”

You caught the challenge in his eyes, that mix of admiration and amusement. You didn’t let him off easy.

“Johnny, save the show for later,” you said, voice laced with teasing authority. “We’re busy keeping the universe from collapsing.”

Johnny laughed, the sound easy and genuine. You caught Ben’s chuckle from the corner, the kind that said, Yep, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

H.E.R.B.I.E. glided by, wheels spinning silently as he delivered the latest Kepler Array readings. You nodded at the robot, offering him a genuine smile. “Thanks, H.E.R.B.I.E. Couldn’t do this without you.”

The robot beeped softly, an almost affectionate affirmation. 

Johnny took a tentative step closer, but you intercepted, your smirk widening. “If you want to learn, sit down and watch. No distractions. And keep your hands to yourself.”

He grinned like a kid caught sneaking cookies, but obeyed, sliding onto a nearby stool with eyes glued to you. You and Reed quickly leaned back into the tangle of tech and equations, and it was hard for Johnny to look away.

This was your domain, and nowhere felt more like home than when you were elbow-deep in problems with Reed. You thrived on puzzles that teased your mind, each anomaly a quiet dare to prove you were far more than just a pretty face. 

Nearly a month into your stint at the Baxter Building, you already knew you’d made the right call. It was far more satisfying than your old life as an assistant professor at Columbia. You weren’t cut out for lecturing; you’d earned your PhD to push boundaries, get hands-on, and chase the questions that kept your curiosity alive.

You’d learned fast that working for the Future Foundation wasn’t a solitary endeavour.

The moment you stepped into the lab, you became part of the Fantastic Four’s revolving door. Reed’s team dropped by as often as the blinking consoles refreshed—sometimes to check in, sometimes to offer unsolicited advice, and occasionally to steal a moment’s distraction from their own chaos. 

You had a standing invitation to dinner every night, and a guest room had been set up for you, waiting patiently for you to claim it while the project stretched on. But despite the warmth of the offer, you preferred a little more distance from work. Boundaries weren’t just professional necessities; you needed them to stay sharp.

Still, you were moved by the unexpected tenderness that came with belonging.

Sue had taken to swooping in like a guardian angel, fussing over you with insistence to take breaks. She often expressed how grateful she was for you—your presence in the lab meant that Reed’s workload had halved, and it gave him room to breathe.

Ben, with his soft gruffness, began appearing more often, armed with cookies from his favourite bakery. It was a simple gesture that made the lab smell sweeter and the days a little lighter, especially when you were seconds from a rage-filled doom spiral. 

Johnny had a vinyl collection like a personal DJ, always ready with exactly the record you wanted when it was your turn to pick the lab’s soundtrack. He’d even dash off mid-discussion to fetch whatever you wanted, his casual showmanship softening under the steady warmth of your easy camaraderie. 

Slowly but surely, you were finding your footing as a part of their little bubble.

You leaned over the glowing console, eyes scanning the latest Kepler Array data with practised precision. “These fluctuations here,” you said, tapping a cluster of irregular readings, “don’t match the typical cosmic background radiation levels. It’s like something’s interfering.”

Reed nodded, intrigued. “Could be a localised gravitational distortion,” he offered. “But nothing in the archives matches this.”

You smirked, a spark lighting your gaze. “My bet’s on a subtle quantum effect. Maybe linked to that glitch in the propulsion system that’s been giving us trouble.” You flicked a command with practised ease, shifting the holograms into tighter alignment. “If we adjust the dampening fields just right, it should stabilise the whole system.”

Johnny popped his head over Reed’s shoulder with a grin that promised nonsense. “So, basically, she’s saying it’s some kind of space magic and we should cross our fingers it works?”

You didn’t miss a beat, arching an eyebrow. “Johnny, if I wanted your opinion, I’d give you a chemistry set and tell you to build a rocket.”

He laughed, like he was painfully aware this wasn’t his most charming work. “Ouch. Okay, fair. I’ll stick to the fire, and leave the brains to you.”

Reed chuckled but didn’t interrupt, clearly enjoying the show.

Ben wandered over, cookie in hand. “You really think this’ll fix the Excelsior’s hiccup?” His voice was gravelly, but carried genuine respect.

You popped a cookie into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “More than think—I’m betting my reputation on it. It just needs the right tweak and a healthy dose of stubborn optimism.”

Johnny settled on a stool, eyes locked on you in a way that made his usual smirk falter into something softer, less sure. You caught the flicker of admiration, mixed with something almost like awe.

“You’re unbelievable,” Johnny muttered, half to himself, half to the room.

You caught it and teased, “Is that a compliment or are you just admitting defeat?”

Johnny ran a hand through his hair, conceding. “Maybe both. You’re not just a pretty face, are you? That’s… kind of disarming.”

You grinned, the corner of your mouth curving with triumph. “That’s the point, Mr Human Torch. I’m just here to keep you on your toes.”

Ben laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

Johnny leveled Ben with an exaggerated scowl, but there was no heat behind it. 

The day stretched on, filled with the satisfying hum of tech and quiet bursts of laughter. Reed and you dove into the Kepler Array data, unravelling anomalies with a shared intensity that made for the perfect level of productivity. Johnny lingered nearby, occasionally shooting you a sideways glance, softened by genuine fascination.

That night, just as you began to pack up your notes, the elevator doors swung open and Sue appeared, hands on her hips, eyes bright with determination.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly, stepping inside. “You’re not leaving without dinner. It’s been far too long since we had a proper meal together, and I’m not getting stuck with the boys tonight.”

You raised an amused eyebrow, caught by the sincerity in her tone.

“I mean it,” Sue added, her smile softening. “I need some girl time, not just science and sarcasm.”

Reed nodded in agreement, already pulling up a chair. “Sue’s right. It’s overdue.”

Johnny smirked, clearly amused. “Guess you’re stuck with us for the evening.”

You exchanged a look with Sue, and a quiet understanding blossomed between the two of you. In that moment, the Baxter Building wasn’t just a workplace. It was a home, and you were becoming a part of it.

“Alright,” you said, settling back with a smile. “Dinner it is. Let’s see if you can keep up with me outside the lab.”

Sue’s laughter filled the room, light and warm. “Challenge accepted.”

You settled into the Baxter Building’s living room like you owned the place. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city’s nightscape like a living painting, a deep blue velvet backdrop studded with a thousand lights. You sank into the soft embrace of the sofa set, your posture relaxed but every inch deliberate.

You were dressed for comfort, but the polished edge was undeniable. Relaxed trousers, a silk blouse cinched at the waist, hair pinned with effortless precision, and a smirk that suggested you were about to take no prisoners. You were about to make more than just conversation—you were here to win.

Glasses clinked, soda bubbles fizzing in crystal tumblers, popcorn steamed gently in bowls scattered across the low coffee table, buttery warmth mingling with the soft hum of blinking tech in the background. The room buzzed with the kind of electric banter that only family could make feel so effortless.

Ever since you stayed over for dinner for the first time a couple of weeks ago, you had become a family dinner regular. You were working later nights than you had at your old job, and you were running out of excuses to avoid family dinner.

Admittedly, it was nice to spend time with the Fantastic Four. They were warm and welcoming, and you never felt out of place among them. 

Tonight in particular, they were in their element: family fun, banter crackling like static electricity in the air.

Johnny’s grin was all reckless charm as he slid a deck of cards onto the table. “Alright, team,” he announced, voice dripping with that trademark confidence. “Let’s play a little poker. Low stakes, high fun. And maybe I’ll finally get to see if the famous astrophysicist can bluff as well as she dazzles.”

You lifted a perfectly shaped brow, exaggerating your cluelessness with a tilt of your head. “Poker? That’s the one where a flush beats a straight, right?” You paused, hiding a grin as you saw the corner of Johnny’s mouth twitch. “Or maybe it’s the other way around? Honestly, I’m a bit fuzzy on the rules, but I’m happy to learn.”

Johnny leaned forward, elbows on the table, his breath warm against your cheek. “Flush beats straight, love. And these chips?” He tapped the stack with mock solemnity. “Each one’s worth bragging rights and a whole lot of pride.” His voice dropped an octave, flirting effortlessly. “Think of me as your poker tutor tonight.”

You considered this with mock gravity, eyes dancing over your cards as if they held secrets you had yet to unlock. “Alright then. Teach me, Human Torch.”

Reed chuckled from his corner, watching the exchange with an amused gleam. You caught his eye and shared a quick wink—a silent nod to countless poker nights past, where you’d swindled him blind and made it look easy.

Sue settled in beside you, pretending to be the innocent newbie too. But you both knew better. You exchanged a glance, a subtle signal, and suddenly your confused questions became part of the ruse. “Wait, so if I raise here, does that mean I’m bluffing or...?” You let the question hang, voice teasingly innocent.

Johnny’s grin faltered just a touch, the kind of brief crack you delighted in exposing. “Careful, that’s how legends fall.” His eyes flicked to Sue, who raised her own brow with perfect poker-face poise.

Ben rumbled a laugh from the other side of the room, booming enough to rattle the glasses. “You two are just setting him up to crash and burn.” His grin was broad, but there was an unmistakable warmth in the way he regarded you both.

You deliberately mixed up chip values, asking, “So, does a red chip beat a blue one? Or am I already out of the game?” Your voice was the picture of confusion.

Johnny chuckled, leaning in with a genuine smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t lose on your first night.” His tone was kind, even as his eyes twinkled with challenge. “Besides, it’s about the fun, not the winnings.”

You threw him a sidelong glance, dropping a chip into the pot with exaggerated hesitation. “Good, because I’m here to win your respect, not your cash.”

The table erupted into laughter, Sue nodding conspiratorially beside you. Reed shook his head, amused, but his eyes gleamed with pride. “You two make this look too easy.”

As the game unfolded, you caught Johnny’s quick glances. He was genuinely rooting for you, even as you threw playful shade his way. When you called his bluff with a perfectly timed smirk, you could practically see the spark of admiration behind his feigned frustration.

The game was a dance of glances, bets, and raised eyebrows. You watched Johnny’s quick twitches—the way he glanced at you like he was trying to decipher a particularly cryptic puzzle, the sharp inhale when you matched his raises with a smirk.

You weren’t just playing poker; you were playing him, and the way his bravado slipped just enough for you to see the real man beneath the flame.

At one point, Johnny leaned over your shoulder, fingers ghosting dangerously close to your cards, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sure you want to go all in? This could get… heated.” 

You suppressed a smile. “I run a little cold,” you shot back, voice low, eyes locked on Johnny. “So heat is very much welcome.”

The thrill of the game and the way Johnny was watching you sent a sweet, dizzy flutter through your chest. Your fingertips tingled with anticipation, heart steady but alive with electric possibility.

The room hummed with quiet laughter as Sue leaned forward, whispering to Reed, “She’s playing him like a fiddle.” 

Ben chuckled from his corner, having clocked your ruse from the beginning.

By the final hand, you settled back with effortless poise, your breath even, eyes calm and sparkling with a confidence that made Johnny’s grin falter for the briefest second.

He pushed a hefty pile of chips into the centre, but there was a flicker of hesitation.

You matched his bet, sliding your own chips forward as your heartbeat hummed a steady rhythm beneath your skin. Your mind worked the room like a well-oiled machine, calculating, predicting.

You knew Johnny thought he had the better hand, and that was why your bluff would work.

“Going all in, huh?” Johnny said, a slow smile tugging at his mouth, eyes narrowing with challenge. “Confident, aren’t you?”

You met his gaze without flinching, voice low and smooth as velvet. “Maybe the student is becoming the master,” you teased.

The tension stretched, thick and charged, the game slipping from cards into something much more electric. Johnny tossed his cards down first, flashing that arrogant grin like he’d already won. It was a solid hand: a full house, impressive enough to make anyone sit up and take notice.

You let your fingers linger over your cards a beat longer. Then, you laid down your cards with deliberate grace, a perfect bluff that told a story only you could sell.

A royal flush.

The room froze for a heartbeat, eyes darting between your hand and Johnny’s, before exploding into laughter and mock outrage. Johnny sat slack-jawed, eyes wide, caught off guard in a way that only made you more irresistible. Disbelief flickered in his gaze before it melted into admiration.

You leaned in, voice barely above a whisper, the heat between you both folding into the playful intimacy of the moment. “That’s the problem with fire,” you murmured, “it’s easy to read the smoke signals.”

The table erupted into raucous laughter. Johnny swore revenge, but you could hear the breathlessness in his laugh. His usual cocky armour slipped, revealing the genuine admiration and just a flicker of something softer.

Sue elbowed him lightly. “You’re losing your touch, Johnny.”

Ben grinned. “You got outplayed by the new girl.”

Johnny gave a playful cry of outrage, but the warmth in his eyes told the truth: he was pleased you won.

You felt it then. This was more than a game; this was the beginning of something electric, the kind of trouble you both lived for.

As the chips clattered and the night wore on, you knew one thing for sure. You weren’t just part of the Fantastic Four’s world. You were quickly becoming the centre of Johnny’s.

The mission was done. The adrenaline was finally ebbing, and Johnny found himself sinking into the comfort of his sanctuary: his bedroom in the Baxter Building.

It was more than just a place to sleep. Johnny’s room felt like a curated echo of his personality. It was bold, stylish, a little eccentric, and surprisingly layered beneath the surface.

A plush, round bed was tucked to the right, layered with patterned throws and an avalanche of pillows—currently occupied by both Sue and Ben, who had taken up casual residence the moment they stepped inside. Sue sat cross-legged, picking at one of Johnny’s knit cushions with idle fingers, while Ben lay back with his boots still on, arms crossed behind his head like he owned the place.

Books, gadgets, and half-burned candles cluttered sleek shelves along the walls. Johnny’s desk curved like a wave, covered in scribbled notes, retro record sleeves from albums he knew you loved, and a white mushroom lamp glowing beside a half-finished model of a jetbike.

Johnny dropped into the blue chair in the middle of the room, his posture half-slouched, one leg kicked up on the ottoman like he needed the chair to catch him before he unravelled completely.

The familiar thrum of his heart was slowing, but not yet steady.

The others had filtered in behind him after the mission. Reed, already scrolling through data on a slim tablet; Ben with that trademark easygoing grin; and Sue, ever the calming presence, watching him with a mix of amusement and quiet understanding.

“So,” Reed began, voice calm but laced with its usual edge of clinical scrutiny, “how’s my protégé fitting in? I think she’s doing a spectacular job.”

Johnny let out a short, breathy laugh, eyes flicking toward the window. “She’s… something. Not just another genius. She holds her own against you. And yeah, she let me think I was winning for a bit. I’m not used to that.” He ran a hand through his hair, and for a second, the flicker of uncertainty gave him away. “It’s kind of throwing me off.”

Sue arched a brow and leaned her elbow against one of Ben’s knees, smirking. “You seem to have met your match. You’re not exactly easy to beat, Johnny.”

Ben chuckled from the bed, folding his arms across his chest. “Kid, I’ve seen you fight monsters, fall outta the sky, and still land with a smile. But this? This right here?” He pointed lazily toward Johnny. “You’re like a lovesick puppy.”

Johnny shot him a glare, but it lacked real heat. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Ben teased. “That look on your face? You’re smitten. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Johnny groaned, leaning his head back. The ceiling light caught the edges of his cheekbones. “I don’t know. Reed and Sue, you have this stable, solid relationship. Someone who gets you. I never thought I’d find that. And now, she’s here, and I’m trying to play it cool like always, but it’s not working. She sees right through me.”

Reed, still half-distracted by his data, looked up. His voice was softer now. “Love’s not easy for any of us. It’s a challenge, like any mission. But you don’t have to go at it alone.”

Sue stood up from the bed, her hand brushing Johnny’s arm. “And don’t waste time pretending you don’t care. Be honest with her, and with yourself. That’s the only way it works,” she advised.

Johnny exhaled slowly, the energy peeling off him like old paint. “She’s trouble,” he said quietly. “The kind that makes me want to be better. The kind that isn’t really troublesome at all, it’s just forcing me to face something I haven’t had to deal with before.”

Ben raised a bottle of soda he’d grabbed from the mini fridge under the bar. “To good trouble, then.”

Johnny let himself smile. His bedroom, the laughter of people who knew him too well, the messy desk, the rumpled bed, the hum of the city below—it all grounded him.

Reed’s tablet chimed softly, pulling him back to the present. He glanced up, a slight crease between his brows. “H.E.R.B.I.E. says our newest member is still logged into the system,” Reed glanced toward the window, “but she stepped out for some air. It’s quite late.”

Johnny’s chair creaked as he pushed himself upright, a sudden sharp edge cutting through his fatigue. “I’ll go find her,” he said. “Make sure she’s okay.”

Sue gave him a small, knowing smile. “She’s lucky to have you watching her back.”

Johnny slid his feet back into his boots, already moving toward the door. “Get some rest,” he ordered his family. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Johnny made his way down to the East River, the city’s noise a distant hum swallowed by the chill night air. The Baxter Building loomed behind him, a sentinel in the dark, its windows faintly glowing like stars trapped in glass.

Above the water, the Excelsior launch pad hovered silently, bathed in soft blue light that shimmered on the river’s surface like scattered stardust.

This was the quiet spot Johnny claimed when his head was too full for the humdrum of the Baxter Building’s walls. The wooden bench near the water’s edge, worn smooth by countless restless nights, waited patiently.

But tonight, when he arrived, you were already there.

You hadn’t expected company. The river’s cold breath curled around you, biting at your exposed wrists beneath the crisp cut of your coat. The night was so still, it felt as though even the stars were holding their breath, waiting.

You drew your knees tighter together, boot heels resting on the frost-slick planks, and kept your eyes on the water.

Its surface rippled in liquid silver, catching the moonlight like fragments of a shattered mirror. The Excelsior’s glow poured across the black water in long, unbroken ribbons, swaying gently with the current. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers trembling just enough for you to feel it. 

You told yourself it was the cold and had nothing to do with Johnny Storm. 

Beneath your polished exterior, the bombshell astrophysicist persona stood guard. It was the armour you’d learned to wear to survive boardrooms, press briefings, and laboratories full of men who thought they knew more than you before you’d spoken a word.

It was an image built from perfect hair, crisp lines, and a voice that never faltered. A necessity. 

Success in your world demanded a mask: an impeccable image, flawless intellect, steel resolve. But here, under the vast and indifferent sky, you could almost imagine taking it off.

That’s when Johnny’s shadow fell over the bench.

You didn’t turn right away, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “If you’re here to brood, the spot two feet to your left is open.” Your voice was steady, but inside, your heart was skipping beats you tried not to count.

The sound of Johnny’s chuckle warmed you more than you’d admit. He sat beside you, close enough that the cold no longer pressed quite so sharply against your side. You could feel the faint heat radiating from him, soft as a sunbeam through glass. 

“Let me guess,” you went on, finally glancing at him, “you’ve claimed this spot longer than me?”

“Long before you ever showed up,” he said, wearing that impossible grin. “Even before I was the Human Torch.”

“Impressive,” you said dryly. “So you were dramatic even before the powers?”

His grin widened. Johnny leaned back, stretching out his legs. “I prefer to think of it as memorable.”

You tilted your head. “You mean loud?”

“Strategically attention-grabbing.”

You huffed a laugh. “Sounds suspiciously like someone compensating for something.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “Ouch. That’s cold.”

The banter looped on, familiarly effortless. You volleyed jabs about Johnny’s sunglasses collection; he countered with digs about your “movie star walk” through the lab. Beneath it all, though, you felt an awareness in the way his eyes lingered a second too long when you smiled. He noticed the way your voice softened on certain words without meaning to.

“You’re one to talk. I’ve seen you walk into the lab like you’re about to be photographed for the cover of Astrophysics Monthly,” Johnny joked.

“That’s because I’m always ready,” you shot back, crossing one leg over the other in an exaggerated pose. “The camera could be anywhere.”

He chuckled, the sound warm enough to curl in your chest. For a while, the banter circled harmlessly, back and forth. Two well-defended citadels lobbing witty remarks across the river between them.

The easy banter felt like a shield against the silence, but beneath it, your mind was a storm. You thought about the endless hours you’d poured into your work, the lectures given with razor-sharp precision, the whispered doubts cast your way because of your gender, your youth, your brilliance.

Yet here, beside this man who could ignite cities with a glance, you felt the edges of that persona soften, even if just a fraction.

The wind picked up off the river, sharp enough to sting your cheeks. You shifted slightly, your shoulder brushing his. The heat that came off Johnny wasn’t metaphorical; it was bone-deep, a steady hum against your side. You found yourself leaning in, inching closer like he was gravity. 

His shoulder brushed yours, and the contact was startling in its simplicity. Not staged. Not part of the act. Just him: steady, warm, unguarded.

Johnny noticed you huddling closer for warmth. Of course he did. But he didn’t make a joke. He just stayed still, warm and solid beside you, letting the cold do the work of closing the distance.

For a while, you both watched the water in silence, listening to the quiet lap of waves against the pier. The night smelled faintly of salt and metal, the city’s energy reduced to a distant pulse. Your breath misted in the air, mingling with his.

After a moment, you tilted your head back toward the stars. “Do you ever look up and feel like the world’s too small? Like there’s more out there you’re not quite ready to reach?”

Johnny’s voice was lower now, without its earlier spark of mischief. “All the time. Sometimes I pretend I’m halfway to the moon and the rest of the world’s just trying to catch up.”

A smile pulled at you, smaller and quieter than the ones you usually let people see. “I wish I could be that untethered. Sometimes I think I get too caught up in the performance of it all. And I know I have to be, but it’s exhausting.”

Johnny looked at you fully then, and there was no teasing in his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend to be anything. You’re not just some bright star, you know. You’re the whole constellation.”

The words landed warm in your chest, and for a moment, you forgot about holding your posture. You let yourself lean just a little heavier against him. His shoulder pressed back, not shifting away.

“What if you could go anywhere right now?” you asked softly. “No responsibilities, no saving the world, no being the perfect eligible bachelor. Where would you fly?”

Johnny looked out at the river’s shimmering stretch and grinned. “It's not so bad here.”

Your laugh came easily, and the sound felt foreign in its honesty. For once, you didn’t have to worry about how it sounded. The night around you was cold, but with his heat at your side, you could have stayed there forever.

The wind skimmed off the river again, sharper now, and you instinctively tugged your coat tighter.

Johnny noticed. 

Without a word, he shrugged out of his leather coat and draped it over your shoulders before you could protest. The lining was still unnervingly warm from his body heat, like it had been sitting near a fire. His hands lingered a second too long at your shoulders, the weight of them grounding you in a way that made your pulse skip.

You swallowed hard.

“You’re freezing.” Johnny said it as though giving you his jacket was the only solution.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the scent of smoke and something faintly sweet hit you, and the words tangled in your throat. 

“I’m fine,” you countered, though you didn’t move to return the jacket. “You know I’m capable of basic thermoregulation.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said with a lazy half-smile, “but my way’s better.”

For a few beats, you both sat in comfortable quiet, the river whispering its endless, low song. 

Then his voice broke the stillness. “Do you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t… this?”

“This?” you echoed.

“The science, the speeches, the whole bombshell astrophysicist thing the tabloids love?”

You tilted your head toward him, caught off guard. “That’s a big question for two in the morning.”

“I’m a big-questions kind of guy,” Johnny said, though his smirk didn’t quite hide the curiosity in his eyes.

You hesitated. For a second, you almost told him about the other paths you’d once imagined for yourself, the softer dreams you’d traded for the armour you wore now. 

But you caught yourself, retreating into a teasing smile. “What about you? Would you still be setting things on fire for a living?”

Johnny grinned, letting you dodge his question. “Maybe I’d be a chef. Same skill set, less collateral damage.”

You laughed, and the tension slipped back into its familiar dance. Light, teasing, safe. 

“Actually, I’d probably do something with cars,” Johnny admitted. “Racing them, fixing them—I don’t know, I always just liked taking things apart and putting them back together again.”

“Ah,” you hummed, grinning. “I’m familiar with that kind of curiosity. I don't know how many times I used to take apart our toaster and put it back together just waiting for my parents to get home after school.”

Johnny tried to picture a younger you waiting up for your parents and fiddling around with kitchen appliances. It was too adorable a thought to linger on—the last thing he wanted to do was blush in front of you. 

“You’ve got that look again,” he said.

“What look?”

Johnny’s expression softened. “The one where you’re thinking about something you’re not gonna tell me.”

You arched a brow. “You’ve known me for how long, and you still think I’m easy to read?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say you’re easy to read, but I’ve spent a lot of time trying to.”

That landed too close. You tipped your head back toward the skyline, letting the wind steal whatever reply you might have had. 

Your thigh brushed Johnny’s, and you felt him still, just slightly, as though deciding whether to close the gap or keep it where it was. Heat radiated through the denim, curling low in your stomach.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low, “you might get addicted.”

You almost snorted. “To what?”

Johnny didn’t answer right away. His gaze found yours, steady, unreadable, but lit with something that made the air between you feel thinner, hotter. Finally, he said, “To the warmth.”

You swallowed hard, breaking eye contact first. Your heart thudded in your ears. It was almost too much—too close, too revealing.

“Y’know,” Johnny said after a beat, “I don’t think I’ve ever been up here this late. Or early, I guess. Feels like we’re not even in the same city anymore.”

“It’s like the rest of the world went to bed and forgot about us,” you agreed.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You could have told him it was dangerous. That being alone with him like this was already pushing the limits of what you could keep hidden. But you just said, “Ask me in the morning.”

His grin came slowly, curling at the edges, but he didn’t push.

The conversation circled again, back to safe territory. Johnny told a story about a botched mission in Madrid that involved three fire alarms and one very offended goat. You countered with the tale of the time you accidentally blew a circuit in Reed’s lab and invented a new chemical smell in the process.

Johnny watched you for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice had that low, dangerous warmth again. “You’ve got frost on your hair.”

He reached up, brushing the strands lightly with his gloved fingers. The touch was barely there, but it sent a sharp little current down your spine.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure your voice would work if you tried it.

You were the one to speak this time, low and almost without thinking. “Maybe I already am.”

Johnny’s brows lifted just slightly. “Addicted?”

You didn’t answer.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air held the shape of something that might have become a kiss. Then a distant siren wailed through the city, a reminder that the world was still turning, still watching.

Johnny leaned back slightly, letting the space between you expand just enough for you to breathe. But the warmth stayed, coiled under your skin.

You hadn’t expected Johnny to come see you. The two of you didn’t communicate much when you weren’t at the Baxter Building. He occasionally called your landline and chatted to you about his day or the record he just got. 

But tonight, there was a real knock on your apartment door. A gentleman’s knock, as if he’d been standing there rehearsing it.

When you opened it, you caught Johnny mid-grin, his shoulders hunched in the way people do when they’re pretending they’re not excited. The collar of his red jacket was turned up against the wind, his hair swept into soft disorder by the February chill.

“Thought I’d pick you up properly,” he said. His tone was light, but his eyes, quick and searching, made the air between you feel like a live wire.

You stared back at him. “How do you know where I live?” you wondered. 

Cheerfully, Johnny declared, “Reed told me! Now come on, these plans are non-optional and took several weeks of planning to ensure that every single member of the Fantastic Four will be available.” He winked. “Including our honorary member.”

Luckily, Sue had called a couple of days ago to let you know that you all had plans coming up. You doubted that she knew her little brother intended to pick you up from your apartment without warning, but at least it meant you were dressed for the cold and ready to go by the time he showed up. 

You stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind you, the scent of his cologne already catching in the wool of your coat. Johnny didn’t comment on your outfit, though you saw him notice, but he did take your gloves from you without asking, tucking them into his own pocket like you wouldn’t need them.

The Fantasticar was waiting at the curb, and the city beyond shimmered with the kind of cold that makes neon look sharper. You slid into the backseat, and the moment the doors sealed shut, the world went quiet. Just the muffled hum of the engine and Johnny’s knee brushing yours.

Reed turned from the front passenger seat with a polite nod. “Evening. Ben’s already out, said he’d meet us there.” 

Sue leaned over the seat to squeeze your arm warmly. “Glad you could make it. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper night together.”

You smiled back, but your attention was snagged when Johnny’s hand settled over yours on the seat between you. The heat of his palm seeped through your skin in slow waves, curling up your arm and blooming in your chest. You didn’t pull away.

“You’re gonna like this,” Johnny said, watching you instead of the skyline. “We’re giving you a real night out tonight. No tourist stuff. No press-friendly stops. Just—” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “Us. What we’d always do if we were, you know, branded on fewer billboards.”

And there it was again. That gentle, careful crack in the Johnny Storm persona. The flicker of something that wasn’t all heat and showmanship. Something meant for you alone.

Outside, Manhattan’s glass edges blurred past, streetlamps streaking gold across the windows, but you didn’t look away from him until the car slowed at your first stop.

The car coasted to a smooth stop outside a modest diner tucked between a faded bookstore and a neon-lit laundromat. The sign flickered slightly, Dot’s Diner, casting a soft pink glow over the wet pavement.

Johnny slid the door open and held out a hand to you, his smile easy, the kind that made you forget everything for a moment. “Home turf,” he said, voice dipped in something almost nostalgic.

You stepped out into the crisp night air, the scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee curling up your nose. The chill nipped at your cheeks, but the warmth from Johnny’s hand still lingered as he guided you up the cracked sidewalk.

Reed and Sue were already inside, being led to a booth by the window. Reed’s fingers danced absently over the menu, his ever-present watch glinting under the flickering diner light. 

“Ben’s probably eyeing the pie counter,” Johnny murmured, leaning close enough that your shoulders brushed. The heat radiating off him was enough to make your cheeks warm.

You settled into the booth beside Sue, the vinyl seats creaking softly beneath you. Around you, the comforting clatter of dishes and low murmurs from other late-night patrons seemed to hum.

“You’ve got to try the coffee,” Sue said, passing you a menu. “There’s no reason it should be this good, but it’s magic.” She smiled and nudged Johnny lightly. “He’s been sneaking in here since he was about nine. After school then, and now, when he wants a break from Reed’s rambles.”

Johnny snorted, flashing that cocky grin. “Hey, Reed’s rambles are basically bedtime stories, that’s how quickly they put me to sleep.”

Reed glanced up from the menu, eyebrows raised. “I prefer to think of them as intellectual nourishment.”

You smirked, catching Johnny’s eye. “Sounds like someone needs to optimise his charisma settings.”

Reed ignored the jab, seriously folding his fingers. “I’m actually trying to optimise the diner coffee. I suspect Dot’s brew is less science, more nostalgia, and that’s what makes it so delicious.”

Ben slid into the booth beside Reed, his thick slice of pie almost too big to balance on the plate. He snorted loudly. “Optimal? It’s diner coffee, Reed. The only optimisation is how fast you can guzzle it before it turns into a sad lukewarm puddle.”

Johnny’s grin deepened. “Ben’s got a point, but Dot’s coffee is more than caffeine. It’s tradition. Like a warm hug you don’t have to pretend to enjoy.”

The diner’s middle-aged waitress, Dot herself, appeared like clockwork, ruffling Johnny’s hair with practised affection. “You haven’t changed a bit, kiddo. And you’ve got yourself a lovely friend here. Haven’t seen you around before, sugar.”

Johnny laughed, loud and genuine, like the sound had been bottled up for too long. “Don’t let her fool you, she’s tougher than she looks,” he insisted, nodding toward you.

Caught off guard by the warmth radiating from Dot’s eyes, you introduced yourself, your voice lighter than you felt. “Nice to meet you, Dot.”

Her smile deepened. “Johnny’s always been a charmer. But he’s got a good heart. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Johnny waved away the flirtation like a pro but kept that slow smile that said he’d already claimed this space for both of you. “Two coffees,” he ordered once introductions were done. “My usual, and one with cream and two sugars for her. And bring her a slice of your signature cake, no whipped cream.”

You blinked, caught off guard, your familiar order settling around you like a warm blanket. You hadn’t even said a word, but Johnny had it memorised. It was like your coffee order was just another little piece of you he’d tucked away.

Dot jotted it down and bustled off, humming a tune that sounded like a 50s record.

Johnny reached over, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. You swallowed, breath catching just slightly, and said nothing.

The coffee arrived quickly, steaming and rich, exactly as you liked it. The cake was dense and buttery, the kind that melts slowly on your tongue, carrying a hint of sweetness that cut through the chill like a warm sigh.

Johnny took a slow sip of his black coffee. “You know, this place? It’s kind of my secret hideout. When I was a kid, I’d come here after getting grounded—”

Sue chuckled, eyes sparkling. “‘Grounded’ is putting it mildly. Remember the time you tried flying off the roof with a makeshift cape?”

Ben’s laugh was like thunder. “And nearly broke his neck. Again.”

Johnny shot him an offended look, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Hey, you weren’t even there! And that was experimental flight testing, okay? You just don’t appreciate genius when it flies too close to the sun.”

You smiled, soaking in the rhythm of their family; the teasing, the history, the way they fit like pieces of a puzzle you didn’t even know you wanted to be part of.

Sue nudged you gently. “Johnny’s never really outgrown this place. It’s where he found his footing when everything else was spinning out of control.”

Johnny’s voice lowered, just a bit. “When we first came back from space, with powers I couldn’t handle yet, Dot’s was the only place I could go to shut out the noise, sit with my own head, and not feel like a freak.”

“And now?” you asked, leaning in, your tone soft but edged with playful challenge.

Johnny’s grin came back, slower, deeper, like he was carrying a secret just for you. “Now, it’s a place I want to share. With you.”

Ben raised his fork in mock salute. “Welcome to the family, kid.”

You caught Johnny’s gaze. There was a flicker, a quickening in his eyes that made your heart do that uneven skip. You threw him a teasing smile. “Guess that makes me officially part of the crazy, huh?”

Johnny’s laugh was low, and he leaned closer. “Crazy? Yeah. But you’re the kind we want to keep around.”

You smirked, letting your fingers trace idle patterns on your mug. “Careful, Johnny. That sounds dangerously close to commitment. I don’t think you’re ready for that level of chaos.”

He raised an eyebrow, mock offence lighting his features. “Please. I invented chaos.”

Before you could volley back, a young guy from the counter sidled up, flashing a grin that was way too practised for 2 AM. “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you from over there. How about you let me buy you a drink sometime?”

You glanced over at Johnny, who was watching the exchange with a slow, amused smile, with the barest flicker of hesitation. 

Turning back to the guy, you gave him a once-over, your eyes sparkling. “Well, aren’t you a bold one to come say that around a table of superheroes?”

He laughed nervously, clearly thrown off but trying to keep his cool. “Hey, no pressure. Just figured I’d ask.”

You leaned forward, voice low and teasing. “Flattery will get you everywhere, but I don’t do casual dating. Not when the company is this dangerous.” You gave a slow, deliberate smile that said you knew exactly the effect you had, and weren’t sorry about it.

Johnny shifted in his seat, fingers tightening subtly around your hand. His smile was a little tighter now, as if the playful confidence he’d worn all night was faltering just a bit. The rare moment caught him off guard. 

Seeing you so desired, so magnetic, and being reminded that you weren’t his.

Sue caught the flicker in Johnny’s eyes and gave you a wink. “Trust me, you’re the most dangerous person here.”

The guy seemed to get the hint, nodding politely and retreating back toward the counter with a sheepish grin. You turned back to Johnny, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear—just like he had done for you earlier.

“Even at a late-night diner with superheroes, I’m still the centre of attention,” you joked, trying to cheer him up.

Johnny shook his head, chuckling. “Guess you really are the hottest thing to come out of astrophysics in the last fifty years, huh?”

You arched a brow, grinning widely. “Did you just quote The Daily Press headline about me from last month?”

Johnny shrugged, refusing to look abashed. “What can I say? I’m a big fan.”

​​You leaned closer, your voice dropping just enough to tease. “Well, big fan, if you’re gonna quote headlines, you might want to bring me more than coffee next time.”

After the night had worn on and the laughter and stories faded, the group slowly spilt out into the cold. Johnny was at your side as you stepped into the street, and the others headed toward the waiting Fantasticar.

You and Johnny lingered, falling a step behind the others. The world around you shrank, and sounds dimmed. Only the quiet hum of distant traffic and the soft scuff of your footsteps against the wet sidewalk filled the space between you. 

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of the night, heavier somehow now, like everything had pulled you closer to a line neither dared cross yet. 

Johnny’s voice was low, the usual swagger stripped away, fragile in the quiet. “This is my real New York. Figured you should see it.”

The words hit you like in a way you hadn’t expected, warm and heavy in the cold air. You swallowed hard, your breath visible in the frigid air, and you forced a lightness to your tone. “I loved it. The diner, Dot—everything was incredible. It felt like stepping into a scrapbook, if that makes any sense.”

Johnny gave you a slow, careful smile, blue eyes catching the glow of the streetlamp. “Makes perfect sense. Couldn’t have explained it better myself.”

You felt the charged silence coil tighter. Your fingers itched to reach for Johnny, to close the space, but your heart clenched at the thought of what would come next.

You stepped a fraction closer, your shoulder brushing his. Johnny’s gaze dropped—first to your lips, then darted up to your eyes, panic flickering there before he steadied himself. His hand came up, resting lightly on your upper arm, warm and steady, holding you in place without overstepping.

You leaned into the heat of his touch. You craved it like a shield against the night’s chill. But just as quickly, reality snapped back, and you pulled away so fast you almost stumbled. His hand was there in an instant, steadying you, his fingers curling around your wrist with a flicker of heat.

The tension twisted tighter between you; this desperate dance of wanting and restraint, of holding on and letting go.

Your heart pounded. “Johnny, I’ve always known you weren’t what the tabloids made you out to be. But tonight... I think I really saw you for the first time. And you’re great.”

His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours. “Great? You really think that?”

You smiled softly, fierce with certainty. “You’re more than fire and headlines. You’re smart and kind. You don’t have to talk yourself down around me. No billboard or photoshoot is going to change that.”

A shadow crossed Johnny’s face, vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his usual bombast. “Sometimes, I’m scared that’s not enough. That people only see the show.”

You reached up, your fingers brushing lightly along his jaw, anchoring him. “They see you. The real you. At least, I do.”

Johnny exhaled slowly, releasing a held breath, then looked away for a moment, jaw tight. When he met your eyes again, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze. 

You both fought the pull to close the distance, to let everything spill out in a rush. Instead, you fell silent, the city’s muted glow wrapping around you like a fragile bubble.

Johnny’s hand lingered a moment longer before retreating slowly to his side. “Let’s get you inside,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint. “It’ll be warm in the Fantasticar.”

You nodded, but didn’t move away just yet. Instead, you let your head fall lightly against his shoulder, seeking warmth, safety, something steady amid the chaos.

The distant laughter of your friends faded behind you, but here, in this charged stillness, time seemed to slow to a whisper.

“A night like this...” Johnny breathed, voice nearly breaking. “Feels like the start of something.”

You closed your eyes against the sharp ache in your chest. “Yeah,” you whispered back. “Feels like it.”

For a breath, the world seemed to pause. Just the two of you suspended in the quiet glow of the streetlamp. Your hands lifted almost without thinking, fingers curling gently around Johnny’s jaw, tilting his face toward yours. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing his cheeks, and you felt the rapid thump of his heartbeat through the fabric of your coat—fast, urgent, impossible to ignore.

Your lips hovered inches from his, every nerve on fire, every second stretching out like a held breath. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the desperate longing tangled with hesitation.

Then, just as your lips were about to meet, a distant shout—one of the others, calling your names—shattered the spell.

You both pulled back, breath hitching, eyes wide, searching each other’s faces for what neither dared say out loud yet.

Johnny’s smile was small, laced with both frustration and promise. “Not yet,” he murmured.

“No,” you agreed, voice soft but sure. “We’ll take our time.”

Side by side, you finally turned toward the others, the night suddenly feeling both too short and full of promise all at once.

The lab was a constellation of softly humming machines and glowing holograms, the gentle pulse of data streaming from the Kepler Array lighting your face in cool blues and greens. Reed’s notes were sprawled across the holo-display, a meticulous mess of edits and rewrites that blurred into the small hours of the morning. You rubbed a hand over your eyes, feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion settle like a weight in your bones.

Without thinking, you reached for the third cup of coffee beside you, but it was already gone. A soft knock on the counter behind you made you look up. Johnny holding a fresh cup of coffee, the warmth of it radiating even through the ceramic. You hadn’t even heard the elevator doors open. 

“Thought you could use this,” he said, voice low and steady, not a trace of the usual showmanship. His eyes flickered with something tender, a quiet encouragement that made your chest tighten.

You smiled, fingers brushing the rim of the cup. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Johnny stepped closer, careful not to disturb the delicate web of papers and holograms. H.E.R.B.I.E. rolled in behind him, carrying a tray with a carefully wrapped sandwich and a small container of fruit.

“Look at you,” he said, a teasing grin creeping back in. “You’re practically living here. Not to mention you’re officially H.E.R.B.I.E.’s favourite. He only makes us sandwiches when we ask for them, you get one just for being here.”

You laughed softly, the sound brittle but real. “I don’t have a choice. The paper’s due next week, and Reed won’t stop until it’s perfect.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. set the tray down gently and earned a pat on the head from Johnny, who sat on the edge of the workstation. He watched you with an intensity that made you feel seen beyond the lab coat and the academic pressures.

“Hey,” Johnny said, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t forget to breathe. I know I’m not the PhD here, but I hear that’s pretty important for staying alive.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no pretence there, just steady, unwavering support.

The hours slipped by, punctuated by quiet moments: Johnny handing you coffee refills, fetching things you forgot, H.E.R.B.I.E. putting on an Etta James record you loved based on Johnny’s recommendation. 

When your head finally lolled sideways against the table in a rare moment of surrender, Johnny caught you before you fell, the warmth of his arms a balm against the stress that threatened to overwhelm you.

The team filtered through occasionally. Sue dropped in for a quick word of encouragement, Ben’s booming laughter echoing from the hall, Reed’s approving nod as he reviewed another revised section.

And always Johnny, your constant anchor in the storm of brutal academia.

You leaned back in your chair, the exhaustion settling deep into your muscles, your eyes tracing the constellation of blinking lights and streaming data on the console. For a moment, you let yourself drift, thinking about how utterly unlike the glossy headlines and magazine covers this scene was.

No perfectly tailored dress, no flawless makeup, no rehearsed smiles for the cameras. Just coffee-stained notes, tired eyes, and a stubborn mind refusing to give up.

If those tabloid writers could see you now—unpolished, raw, hunched over a hologram with your hair a tangled mess and your fingers stained with ink and caffeine—they’d probably call it a meltdown or a bombshell burn-out. But you knew better.

This was your work. The real work.

The moments when you weren’t the image of effortless glamour, but the person who connected dots no one else could see, who stayed up past midnight chasing anomalies, who rewrote papers until every word carried the weight of truth.

You were always going to be the bombshell astrophysicist, but now you could prove that you had the brains to back it up, the talent to own it, and the experience to make your mark.

And this time, you weren’t alone.

Johnny’s quiet presence wasn’t just a comfort. It was the kind of support that turned chaos into something manageable, the kind of steady hand that let you finally believe you could thrive, not just survive.

The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of machines and the faint rustle of papers. Afternoon light spilt through the tall windows, pooling gold on the steel counters and screens cluttered with equations and data sets. You sat at the long table, fingers still tingling from hours of typing, your mind a swirl of corrections and rewrites, exhaustion and anticipation.

Reed’s presence was steady beside you as he set the final version of the paper down with a deliberate calm that made your heart race despite the fatigue. His eyes, the eyes of a man who rarely allowed himself to show vulnerability, were locked on you.

“This is... exceptional,” Reed said quietly, voice low but steady. “I’ve read every draft, every line. But this—this is something else. Your insight connected pieces of the puzzle no one else even noticed. You saw the anomalies not as isolated noise, but as a pattern. A map pointing to the unknown.”

You blinked, identifying his words as more than praise. It was recognition. The kind that whispered, You belong here.

Then Reed shifted, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. “I’m putting your name first on this paper.”

You caught your breath. The significance hit you like a jolt.

In the academic world—especially one as competitive and hierarchical as astrophysics—the lead author was sacred territory. Usually reserved for the most senior scientist, the one with the longest CV, the most grants, the most authority. To Reed, the titan of the field, to willingly hand over that spot was almost unheard of.

“I want this to be your moment,” Reed said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not because I have to, but because you earned it. More than anyone on this team. Your work made this publication possible. And this is just the beginning. At the Future Foundation, we want to help you build your career. Not just in name, but in respect. In freedom. Right here at the Baxter Building.”

You exhaled shakily, feeling a fierce, unexpected surge of emotions. Pride, relief, and a deep sense of safety. Here was a place that saw you, really saw you. Not just the bombshell who turned heads in the tabloids, but the mind behind the equations, the relentless seeker of truth.

You thought of every late night spent battling doubt, every article that questioned your credibility, every sideways glance from peers who couldn’t reconcile your beauty with your brilliance. And now, here was Reed Richards—your mentor, your colleague, your champion—showing you that you belonged. That your voice mattered.

You smiled, that radiant, unstoppable smile that had carried you through more than you liked to admit. “Thank you so much.”

Reed’s eyes softened, a rare softness breaking through his usual measured composure. “You have no need to thank me. You’ve earned every bit of this, and more.” He paused, then leaned in slightly, his voice quiet but resolute. “It is my hope, and the Future Foundation’s, that you will continue to conduct your research here, with the full support of the team. We want you to have your own lab in the Baxter Building. Whatever you need to push this work further—funding, equipment, personnel—we will provide it, within reason. Consider it an investment in not just the future of astrophysics, but in you.”

You blinked, stunned. The sheer scope of the offer was borderline incomprehensible. This was more than a job or a title. It was a vote of confidence, a declaration of belonging. You were being given the keys to the city, scientifically speaking, and you had the freedom to do whatever your heart desired next. 

Reed smiled then, a real, open smile. “I want you to know it’s been an honour mentoring you. Not just because you’re the future of the field but because you’re the present. Your work is invaluable. Your mind is brilliant. I’m excited to see what you’ll do next.”

You felt your throat tighten. The weight of those words, after so many nights of doubt and struggle, was almost overwhelming. You hesitated a moment before standing, and Reed rose too, closing the distance between you. 

When you pulled back, Reed looked at you, eyes sharp and warm. “So, what do you want to do next?”

You grinned, heart pounding in your chest. “Right now? All I want is to go tell Johnny.”

You paused in the hall outside Johnny’s door, taking a deep breath as your fingers brushed the cool wood. You hadn’t had the time to rehearse this moment, and now, standing here, you felt your heart hammering. Nerves twisted in ways both familiar and new. 

Tentatively, you knocked.

“Uh—come in!” came his voice, higher-pitched than usual, carrying that unmistakable mix of surprise and delight.

You opened the door, and the sight that greeted you made your chest stutter. Johnny was halfway between tidying and abandoning the task altogether: pillows scattered across the floor, vinyl records perched precariously on his bed, a half-empty mug teetering on the edge of his nightstand. He froze the moment he saw you, blue eyes wide and golden with shock, then smiled so broadly it nearly made you stumble forward.

“You—what—how—” Johnny stammered, flinging a pillow onto the bed with too much force. “You’re here! I—wait, hold on, don’t just—oh man, it’s a mess.” His usual grin faltered into a panicked, adorable frown. He ducked to snag another pillow off the floor, knocking a stack of records onto the carpet. “Okay, fine. This is fine. Totally fine. You’re here. And I’m— I was just cleaning.”

You laughed softly, letting the nerves of the hallway slip away. Stepping closer, you brushed the hair from Johnny’s forehead. “I’ve always assumed your room would be a little chaotic. But,” You paused, smiling softly, “it’s kind of charming.”

Johnny’s eyes softened, and he wasn’t fumbling anymore. “Charming? That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my room. But now I’m blushing, and it’s— look, I��m a disaster right now, but you’re here.”

You tilted your head, heart thudding. “I come bearing news.”

“Oh?” His voice was teasing now, but his pulse betrayed him. “You’re going to make me proud, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, breath catching. “The paper’s ready for peer review. Reed is putting my name first. And…” Johnny nodded encouragingly, like he couldn’t believe there was even more good news. “He wants me to stay. The Future Foundation is giving me my own lab, full funding and everything.”

Johnny’s jaw dropped. “That’s huge. That’s amazing. You’ve earned it. You’ve always been this brilliant, unstoppable—no, scratch that—you’ve always been…” He stopped, flustered, eyes darting to yours and then down to your lips and back up again. “…everything anyone could hope for. I’m just— I don’t even know what to say.”

You laughed, feeling that fond happiness building up in your chest. “You’re cute when you’re panicking,” you mused.

He grabbed your hands, holding them tight. “Cute doesn’t cover it. You’re just extraordinary, and I’m a complete mess and I wasn’t expecting you, and I… I just—” Johnny’s eyes flicked to your lips again, then back to your eyes, panic and desire tangled in equal parts.

You took a deep breath, leaning forward just slightly. “I’ve wanted to tell you… I’ve wanted to be with you for a while now.”

Johnny’s lips parted, a shiver running through him. “I’ve been waiting to hear that. And to say it back.”

Your hands lifted, trembling slightly, and cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing lightly against the warm planes of his cheeks. Johnny’s eyes flicked to yours, dark and wide, and for a heartbeat the world shrank to nothing but the two of you. Slowly, painfully, and deliberately, you tilted his face down toward yours, every movement weighted with the things neither of you had dared to say.

Johnny didn’t pull away. His lips parted just a fraction, and you caught a soft hitch in his breath, tiny and raw, that sent your pulse spiking. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to close the distance.

Your foreheads brushed first, soft, almost trembling contact, and his eyes fluttered shut. Heat pooled low in your chest, a slow burn that throbbed through your arms, your stomach, every inch of you. His lips hovered against yours, so close it was dizzying—so close it was painful.

Then, almost without thinking, your hands slid higher, fingers threading through his hair, cupping the back of his neck as you tilted your head, brushing your lips against his. The contact was feather-light, barely there, yet it sent shivers racing across your spine. Johnny’s hands lifted instinctively, one pressing to your waist, the other along your back, grounding him as much as grounding you.

It started slow, tentative, but the heat that radiated from him pulled you in inexorably. Every brush of his lips against yours, every shared, shallow breath, made your knees weaken. You pressed closer, hands moving as if they had a life of their own, memorising the planes of his body, the soft warmth of his chest, the quick, staccato beat of his heart that thundered so loudly you could feel it through your lab coat.

Johnny groaned, low and urgent, and your heart ached with need. You pulled back just a fraction to catch your breath, only to feel him close the distance immediately, impossibly fast, as if any space between you was unbearable. His hands slid higher, one cupping your neck, the other tracing your spine, and you shivered, pressed flush against him, losing the fight to hold yourself apart.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with want, and it was all the permission your racing heart needed.

You tilted your head, letting your lips brush his once more, softly, teasingly, before pressing harder, letting every ounce of longing, every second of frustration, pour into the kiss.

Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers threading through soft strands, while his hands roamed your sides, over your back, up to your shoulders, anchoring you to him. You moved together like two halves rediscovering a whole, slow, staggered steps across the floor as if navigating both desire and the fragile, electric tension of finally being together.

A sigh escaped you when your lips parted for air, and his forehead rested against yours, pulses wild. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, voice rough, vulnerable, trembling with every beat of his heart.

“You have no idea,” you whispered, your hands lingering on his jaw, tilting his face down to yours again. You kissed him again, deeper, fiercer, letting months of slow-burning longing and the playful banter break through the surface.

Between kisses, you laughed breathlessly. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”

Johnny grinned against your lips. “I’ve imagined it a thousand times, and it’s even better than I ever dreamed.”

His hands gripped your sides as you pressed against him, and yours tightened in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Every soft moan, every whispered gasp, every racing heartbeat proved you’d both held back for too long. The kiss was messy, greedy, desperate, and perfect all at once.

Finally, you broke apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths ragged, lips swollen and tingling. “Better than you ever dreamed, huh?” you teased softly, voice breathless but triumphant.

“Definitely,” Johnny admitted, shaking his head in disbelief, a slow, radiant grin spreading across his face. “Can you blame a guy? God forbid he dreams about his girlfriend before he gets a chance to tell her.”

You laughed softly, heart soaring. “Girlfriend,” you murmured, letting the word taste on your tongue, letting it sink in. “I like the sound of that.”

He kissed you again, slow this time, deliberate, savouring every inch of you, letting the fire settle into a warm, unshakable rhythm. The world outside his room, the stress of work, all fell away. Only this, only you, only him.

“You’re incredible,” Johnny whispered once more, and this time it felt like a vow, a promise, a beginning. You pressed your lips to his again, slower, deeper, letting your sighs mingle in the warm glow, finally free to show the love that had been simmering beneath months of longing.

You finally pulled back, breathing ragged but steadying as the heat of the kiss lingered on your lips. Johnny’s arms wrapped around you, strong and protective, pressing you flush against him as if he never wanted to let go.

“You’re really here,” Johnny murmured, voice low, roughened by the mix of laughter and longing. His lips brushed against your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss there. 

You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes glittering with the same mix of disbelief and joy. “I know,” you whispered, tracing a line along his jaw. “It’s finally real. No holding back.”

He smiled, and it was a slow, soft thing that made your chest swell. “I’ve been waiting for this,” Johnny admitted. 

“So have I,” you replied, voice trembling with the same mixture of awe and relief. “I… I have so much I want to tell you. About the paper, about Reed putting me first, about having my own lab. You were the first person I wanted to tell.”

His hands slid down to cup your waist again, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’m listening, trouble,” he said, leading you to a chair. You laughed at the nickname. “Tell me everything.”

And as you began to recount Reed’s offer, the paper being ready for peer review, and your new lab above his, his smile never wavered, never faltered. Johnny was there, entirely present, sharing in your triumph, sharing in your life.

You stayed entwined like that until the soft crackle of the record reached its final notes. Johnny, ever thoughtful, lifted the needle and gently put on a new record. The familiar warmth of the music filled the space around you both. Eventually, the music played on quietly in the background as exhaustion and contentment tugged at your eyelids, and you both drifted off in the first real sleep you’d had in weeks.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

lost in translation (m.r.)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has never confessed to anyone, which is why his first attempt went so badly

credits to @/saradika-graphics for the divider!

Mattheo Riddle wasn’t exactly known for his considerate nature. In fact, he was notoriously lacking in it.

He was well aware that nothing at Hogwarts stayed a secret—honestly, he was part of the reason why.

In second year, the moment he caught wind of Lorenzo’s crush on that Ravenclaw, he practically sang it up and down every corridor, playing matchmaker with the subtlety of a drunken Hippogriff.

In fourth year, when Draco admitted—in passing—that Granger was “sort of hot in a terrifying way,” Mattheo nearly hexed him into the next era. Still, he whistled and hummed the Wedding March every time they passed each other, just to make Draco suffer.

And just last year, he’d personally tortured Theo over his crush on that Hufflepuff—publicly, relentlessly—until she finally caved and started dating him.

So yeah. Now that he had a crush, there was no way in hell he was letting anyone find out. Especially not Theo.

Because if there was one thing Mattheo had earned in life, it was karma. And this? This would be brutal.

Well… that. And—

“Fratellone~” (big brother~)

Mattheo’s entire nervous system short-circuited.

Your voice floated into the common room like smoke and sugar, playful and sweet—and there you were, head poking in, eyes wide and sparkly, looking right at Theo.

He sat lazily on the sofa with Mattheo beside him, but Mattheo would’ve been lying if he said the sight of your big, pleading doe eyes didn’t make him swoon just a little.

He also tried not to react to the way you were fluttering your lashes like you were auditioning for a Veela commercial.

Theo chuckled, rolling his eyes, "What do you want?"

"Will you promise to say yes first?" You asked sweetly, lips pursed in a pout, rocking on your heels with your eyes wide like a tragic fairytale character.

Theo scowled at you—but there was no real malice in it, "Like hell. What do you want?"

"Some allowance." You replied, tilting your head just slightly—and Merlin help him, Mattheo almost pulled out his wallet for you.

Theo, however, was unmoved. He scoffed, "Yeah, right. What happened to all your allowance? I’m not giving you a single knut."

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you flopped right between the two of them, your shoulder brushing Mattheo’s as your scent flooded his brain.

He stared straight ahead. He did not inhale. He definitely did not imagine himself burying his nose into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent.

"Theoooo," You whined, stretching his name like syrup, "I want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend with my friends. Pleeeease?"

He narrowed his eyes, grimacing again, and you let out another pitiful whine.

A beat passed before he finally sighed, "Fine. Go get my wallet from my dorm."

You grinned, victorious, as you pulled the wallet straight out of your robe pocket.

Theo let out a scoff of disbelief, "Unbelievable."

You merely gave him a smile.

"You know," He grumbled as you pocketed the money, "when I ran out of allowance, I didn’t have anyone to scam with big eyes and fake innocence. You’re lucky you’ve got such a good big brother."

You huffed, smug, "That’s your job as my big brother. If you wanted the special treatment, you should’ve been born second."

Mattheo very calmly decided that if Theo ever found out about the state of his crush, he would simply have to fake his own death and transfer to Durmstrang under a new identity.

After a couple weeks of hopeless, spiraling, late-night-scribbling-his-name-next-to-yours-on-scrap-parchment kind of pining, Mattheo had finally made up his mind.

He was going to tell you. Actually confess. Like a proper idiot in love.

It was stupid, really—how nervous he felt. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what was worse: the actual feelings, or the fact that he was handling them like a fourth year with his first crush.

Honestly, he felt like he was in over his head—and Mattheo Riddle never felt that way. His comfort zone was massive. He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, or get shy, or blush when someone looked at him a second too long. If anything, he was usually the one making other people uncomfortable with how confident and shameless he was.

He had always been the type to take charge of any situation. If he wanted something, he said so. Gave the time and place. No hesitation. No second-guessing. No vulnerability.

But with you?

With you, it was different.

You made him feel like the floor might disappear from under him at any second. Like rejection from you wouldn’t just sting—it would wreck him.

And maybe that was dramatic, maybe even pathetic, but he’d take pathetic over regret any day. At least if he confessed, he could say he’d tried. Even if it went horribly. Even if you laughed in his face.

(Which he was only mildly worried about. Okay, more than mildly. He’d had an actual dream where that happened. Twice.)

Still, he figured he had to try. At least this way, if it all fell apart, he’d know he hadn’t kept his mouth shut like a coward. And, of course, he owed Theo the basic respect of asking you out properly.

So he waited. Bided his time.

And when he saw you one night alone in the library—half-asleep over your Charms essay, ink smudged across your fingers—he figured this was it.

Game time.

You looked up at the sound of his footsteps, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Mattheo Riddle?” You teased, “In the library? Are you lost?”

He tried to fire something back. Something snarky or clever or Mattheo-ish.

Instead, all he managed was a breathless smile.

Your teasing faded instantly. You sat up straighter, “Are you okay?”

He exhaled through his nose, nodded once, “Yeah. I just… I need to tell you something.”

Your expression softened, open and patient, “Okay. Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

He blinked. Swallowed.

Then immediately began spiraling.

“It’s just that—I think you’re a—no, wait. That’s not how I wanted to start. I’ve been feeling like this for a couple months—shit, no, that sounds stalkerish—”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in concern. Mattheo Riddle, Hogwarts’ most sarcastic menace, was stammering like a first year. You’d never seen him like this.

“Mattheo?” You asked gently, “Just say it. I promise I won’t judge you.”

He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a breath.

“It’s not you judging me that I’m afraid of,” He muttered, “It’s just… I’ve never had these feelings before. Not like this. And it’s been driving me insane, not saying anything. I’ve wanted to for weeks. But there’s Theo—you know he’s my best mate—and I didn’t want to make things weird or screw it all up. But honestly, I don’t think I care anymore. Not when it feels like this.”

He looked up at you finally, eyes wide and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen on him before.

You looked upset. Maybe even heartbroken. Mattheo felt his stomach drop.

A beat passed.

Then you smiled. Slowly. Brightly.

“I think I understand what you’re saying, Mattheo.”

His heart nearly stopped, “Y-You do?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes shining, “Yeah. And—wow. I mean—this is amazing news.”

A smile bloomed on his face, stunned and almost disbelieving, “Wait. Really? You think so?”

“Of course I do!” You laughed, standing to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, “This is great. I’m so happy for you.”

He froze for a second, then melted into it, arms winding around you with relief pouring through his chest. He tucked his face into your hair and breathed in the scent of your shampoo.

Finally.

He’d done it. He’d told you. And you—Merlin, you felt the same. You really—

You pulled back, still smiling, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His brain short-circuited.

“Listen, I should get to bed,” You said, gathering your books in your arms with a small smile, “But we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

Mattheo nodded, eyes wide and glassy, like he wasn’t entirely sure what dimension he was in, “Y-Yeah. Okay.”

You gave him a wink—light, teasing, completely unaware of the emotional earthquake you’d just caused—and turned, heading down the corridor toward the dorms. Your footsteps echoed gently, fading into the stillness of the night.

The second you turned the corner and were safely out of sight, you bolted into the nearest empty hallway, nearly tripping over your own feet as you pressed your back to the wall, books clutched to your chest, heart pounding.

Your thoughts were a blur.

Mattheo Riddle.

The guy you'd been lowkey—okay, not so lowkey—crushing on for weeks. The one who made your stomach flip every time he so much as looked at you. The same boy who’d just opened up to you with flushed cheeks and fumbled words and a nervousness you never thought you’d see on him.

You blinked rapidly, breath caught in your throat, replaying the entire conversation in our head.

You groaned, sliding down the wall until you were sitting on the cold stone floor, completely humiliated.

“I can’t believe this,” You whispered, “I was this close to asking him to Hogsmeade.”

The next morning was a blur.

You hadn’t slept.

How could you, after what happened in the library? After Mattheo Riddle—a boy you’d been quietly losing your mind over for weeks—had looked you in the eye and told you, with a trembling voice, and broke your heart.

You were the main character in an absolute tragedy.

You spent all of night thinking it through, picturing the next couple years in your future. You'd undoubtedly be around Mattheo for a lot of those years because of his closeness to Theo. Could you really survive that?

I mean, you had to, didn't you?

Just as the morning rays of sunshine began to flitter through your curtains you had attempted to strengthen your already flimsy resolve.

You were happy.

Really.

You were.

Fucking hell.

So when Mattheo found you in the Great Hall that morning and slid into the seat beside you with the most relaxed, pleased-with-himself smile you’d ever seen on his face, your heart sank.

“Morning,” He said, nudging you playfully, “Sleep okay?”

You blinked, “Um. Yeah. You?”

“Best night of my life.” He said, completely sincere.

You stared at him.

God, he must really be happy.

You cleared your throat and focused very, very hard on your scrambled eggs.

Mattheo, meanwhile, was thriving. You were a little quiet, sure, but he figured that was just nerves. Shyness. Maybe you were still processing the fact that he liked you. Really liked you. That he’d finally said it out loud.

He nudged you again, dropping his voice slightly.

“So, uh… when do you think we should tell Theo?”

Your soul left your body.

Tell Theo. Tell Theo?!

He wanted you to witness him breaking your heart in person?!

You slowly lowered your fork, “You want me to be there when you... tell him?”

Mattheo’s smile widened like your reaction was exactly what he was hoping for, “Yeah, I mean, obviously he’s gonna be weird about it at first—but he’ll come around.”

You stared at him, a strange buzzing in your ears, “Right. Um. I don’t think I should be there for that.”

His brows lifted, “Oh?”

“I just… I think it’s something you should do on your own. You know? One-on-one. No distractions.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, lips pressed together in thought, “Yeah. I get that. ”

“I just don’t think my presence would help.”

He chuckled softly, “You’re seriously adorable when you’re anxious.”

You blinked.

Mattheo tilted his head, confused for a split second… then smiled.

“Alright,” He said, nodding seriously, “I’ll talk to him later.”

You nodded back, forcing a smile, while internally screaming into the void.

There was a sharp knock on the door to your dorm room.

You sat up in bed, startled, textbook sliding from your lap. Your roommates all told you they were staying out late to finish their joined project in the library. You had been expecting to have the dorm empty for at least another hour.

“Who the hell—?”

The door creaked open, and Mattheo slipped inside, curls a little messy, eyes shadowed and stormy, shoulders slumped.

He gave you a little smile when he entered though it did little to betray his crestfallen expression as he trudged over to your spot on the bed before he threw himself on the mattress beside you. His arms immediately went around your waist in a hug as he hid his face into the side of your thigh.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

“Mattheo?” You whispered, brushing his curls away from his eyes, “What—what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure whether to speak or just collapse into your lap and stay there forever. A part of him didn’t want to say anything. He knew how much you adored your older brother. If you found out Theo wasn’t supportive of your relationship, it would wreck you.

But the way you were looking at him, gentle and concerned and so you, cracked him wide open.

“I told him.”

You blinked, “You told Theo?”

He nodded slowly. There was something behind his eyes—hurt, confusion, frustration. And something else too. Shame.

“How did he take it?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Mattheo let out a bitter breath and ran a hand down his face, “Not well. He looked at me like I’d lost my fucking mind. Told me I was sick. Said I needed to back off before things got weird.”

Your chest caved in. Horror filling every pore and vein, inching itself into your bones. Yesterday, you had kind of hoped for this. But today? You were utterly mortified by your brother's actions.

“He said that to you?”

Mattheo sighed, closing his eyes and just enjoying the way you carded through his hair, “Yeah. I mean, I guess I get it. I didn’t exactly ask for permission before anything happened—”

“Permission?” You echoed, getting increasingly angry.

He kept talking, “I just thought he’d at least be annoyed, you know? Or at least not act like I committed a sin. I mean, I don't really give a shit about what he thinks but he's my best mate.”

You stood, furious, “I can’t believe him. That’s so unfair.”

Mattheo looked up, slightly startled.

You were pacing now, barefoot, fury radiating off you like heat.

“I mean, what century are we living in? If you like someone, you like someone. He doesn’t get to make you feel wrong for that.”

Mattheo blinked, “Wait—what?”

“I’m gonna go yell at him,” You snapped, already marching toward the door, “He doesn’t get to treat you like that. He should be grateful you were honest. Gods, I’m so mad right now—”

“Wait, (Y/N), wait—” Mattheo followed, hands raised like he was trying to calm a charging dragon, “Sweetheart, it’s really not that big a deal. He’ll cool off, and I’ll talk to him again—”

“That’s not good enough!” You snapped, throwing open the door, “God, if Mama saw what a heartless bastard he turned into—ugh! I’m gonna hex his balls off!”

You stormed out, slamming the door behind you so hard it rattled on its hinges.

Mattheo stood in the silence that followed, staring at the now-closed door, stunned.

A long pause.

Then, very quietly:

“…I fear for my safety when we have our first fight.”

You stormed through the Slytherin common room like a woman possessed, your footsteps echoing furiously through the stone corridors.

People scattered. Literally scattered.

You weren’t sure where Theo was, but your rage must’ve acted as some kind of tracking charm, because the moment you shoved open the boys’ dorm door, there he was—lounging at his desk, reading some smug little book with his legs kicked up like he owned the castle.

“Theodore. Fucking. Nott.”

Theo looked up, startled—just in time for you to march over and yank him up by the ear.

“OW—WHAT THE BLOODY HELL—!”

“Don’t ‘what the bloody hell’ me, you absolute tosser,” You snapped, dragging him upright like a furious mother catching her child vandalizing a sacred artifact, “Mattheo tells you how he feels—he opens up to you—and you call him sick?! Are you completely deranged?!”

Theo flailed dramatically, “Let go of my ear! Have you lost your mind?!”

“Have you?! You’re supposed to be his best friend! Do you have any idea how hard that must’ve been for him?! He came to you vulnerable—and you rejected him like he was diseased!”

Theo stopped struggling. His face twisted in confusion.

“Okay, what the actual hell are you talking about?!”

You jabbed a finger into his chest with your free hand, “Don’t play dumb. Mattheo told me he has feelings for someone, and yesterday he went to confess. Then he shows up to my dorm crushed because you turned him away like he didn't mean anything to you!"

There was a heavy pause.

Theo blinked.

“…He told you he had feelings for someone?”

“Yes!” You snapped.

“And you thought he meant…” Theo trailed off, narrowing his eyes.

You squinted right back, “…You?”

Theo stared at you. You stared at him.

Then he grabbed your ear.

“OW—HEY—WHAT THE HELL—!”

“You utter moron!” He hissed, twisting slightly, “You thought Mattheo was confessing to me?!”

“I WAS TRYING TO BE SUPPORTIVE!”

“SUPPORTIVE?! OF ME DATING MATTHEO?! ARE YOU HIGH?!”

“STOP TWISTING, YOU GOBLIN!”

You both stood there like absolute lunatics, yanking on each other’s ears, realization dawning in slow-motion horror.

And then— The dorm door burst open. And Mattheo came in.

His eyes landed on Theo gripping your ear.

His entire face shifted.

“Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Mattheo barked, “I don’t care if she’s your sister, Nott—get your hands off my girlfriend!”

You froze.

Mattheo took a step forward, jaw clenched, “Seriously. Let go.”

You blinked, “…Girlfriend?”

Silence.

A very heavy silence.

Mattheo turned to you, suddenly uncertain, “Yeah? I mean—you don’t mind, do you?”

You gawked at him, “Wait, hold on. I must’ve missed a few chapters—since when am I your girlfriend?”

Mattheo’s brows drew together, “Well… we didn’t officially say anything, but I thought… I mean, yesterday—”

“Yesterday?!”

“Yeah! You said it was amazing news. I thought that meant you liked the idea!”

“I did think it was a good idea! I mean—at the time I did! But then today happened—”

Mattheo stiffened, voice dropping, “So you don’t want to date me because Theo doesn’t like it?”

You stared at him, completely flabbergasted, “Mattheo… aren’t you gay?”

Theo, who had been suspiciously quiet up until this point, snorted.

Then he wheeze-laughed.

Then he bent over, dying, gasping for air like the world’s most dramatic mime.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” He cackled, “You two deserve each other. You're both idiots. I can't breathe.”

Mattheo’s face went red, “What?! What on earth gave you that impression?!”

“You said it yourself!” You shouted defensively, “You went on and on about your feelings—how hard it was to express, how you were scared, how it could ruin your friendship—with Theo! I thought you were coming out and telling me you were in love with him!”

Mattheo looked absolutely offended, “YES—because I didn’t know how to tell my best friend that I was in love with his baby sister!”

You blinked, “You never said my name! Not ONCE in that entire meltdown did the words ‘(Y/N), I like you’ come out of your mouth!”

“I thought it was implied! You kissed me on the cheek!”

“I’M ITALIAN, WE KISS EVERYBODY!”

Mattheo cleared his throat, “Okay. Um… let me try this again.”

You looked up at him, still a little dazed, “Please do.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking far too nervous for someone who once set a broom closet on fire in third year because, in his words, it was “for shits and giggles"

“I like you,” He said, voice low but steady, “You, Y/N Nott. Not your brother—despite his sparkling personality.”

From the bed, Theo flipped him off, “I hope you choke.”

Mattheo took a step closer, his tone softening as his eyes searched yours, “I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks. But I didn’t want to ruin things with Theo, and then I panicked—and started rambling—and then you kissed me and walked off, and I thought that meant yes. So I spent the last twenty-four hours floating around like a smug idiot thinking I had the girl of my dreams.”

You flushed, smiling despite yourself.

“I’m not gay,” Mattheo added quickly, glancing sideways at Theo, “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, obviously. I just—look, I probably shouldn’t say anything else. Every time I open my mouth, you come up with a new wild theory and I nearly get accused of seducing your brother.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

Mattheo stepped closer again, “So now that we’ve established I’m not secretly in love with Theo… would you want to be my girlfriend?"

He looked so earnest. Like he’d hand you his heart and a backup heart just in case something happened to the first one.

Your own heart skipped. “I’d love to,” You said softly. Then, with a sly smile, “I’d kiss you right now if my brother weren’t staring.”

“And for that, I’m eternally grateful,” Theo deadpanned, still sprawled on his bed, “Also grateful that as of today, you are officially his problem. You want money? You hit up your boyfriend. You set something on fire? Talk to your boyfriend. I am washing my hands clean of you.”

He dramatically mimed wiping his hands in the air.

He then added, “To think I was worried your pathetic, lovestruck, gay ass was going to break my baby sister’s heart.”

Mattheo groaned, “Not gay. Just want to emphasize again how not gay I am. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! Just—Merlin’s beard—I’m shutting up now.”

Theo smirked, “Smart move.”

Mattheo sighed and looked back at you, “...Still want to kiss me?”

You grinned, “I wouldn't be opposed.”

Theo froze, "Wait a second."

“Don’t wait up.” Mattheo said smugly to his roommate, taking your hand.

“Mattheo I swear to God—”

You pulled him toward the door, laughing, while Theo yelled curses behind the two of you.

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[sinner-as-saint]

this vertigo of bliss

Dark!New Avenger!Bucky x Scientist!Reader

Summary: You were hired by Val to work alongside the New Avengers in the watch tower. Of course, you weren’t superhuman beings like them, but you were a brilliant scientist. And while the team went off on missions in their loud jets with their guns and grenades to fight battles, you stayed and took care of your lab and carried on with your research projects. Always looking for ways that might help your superheroes friends. Be it finding ways to heal their injuries faster, or how to keep them healthier, or understand their modified DNA better so that in the future as they age – albeit slower than most humans – they’ll suffer less. Plus, your research would be useful in case new superhumans popped up out of nowhere, like Bob did. And you were proud of your work, as was the team, but then one day you go down an ambitious rabbit hole and make a mistake. Luckily Bucky is there to save the day. Or is he? 

Themes: sex pollen trope, mentions of drugs, smut, mild degrading kink, mild breeding kink, dom!bucky, explicit language, c*m play, aftercare

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

You could hear your own heartbeat, your heart going insane inside your rib cage – a warning sign. This was bad. Very, very bad. 

You couldn’t do anything but stand back and watch the pale smoke fill your lab, reaching every crevice, filling your lungs, coating your skin and leaving it feeling oily and dirty. You gasped for air, the mask over your face completely useless. 

Shit, what had you done? What the hell had you done? 

You were well aware it was hubris to even get into those secret HYDRA files on your computer. You knew it was selfish to try and recreate the drugs they used all those decades ago. You knew it. You knew it. It was wrong on so many levels. There’s a reason these files are so well hidden. 

And you told yourself you’d never follow through. That you’d stop right before you created this damned thing. But you couldn’t stop. It was so tempting to do what is most forbidden and here you were now, breathing in your mistake. 

You took the useless mask off, along with your lab coat. Your body was heating up. And you felt feverish. Like in a haze. And you knew what was happening. You’d read it all this morning. And you knew it would be hours before you felt normal again. Before this itch went away. This animal inside you, suddenly awake and hungry for… everything. 

No, no, no. 

You could barely stand up. 

It wasn’t supposed to be this potent. You knew nothing would leak outside the lab, it was designed that way for safety, but you still locked the entrance just in case. 

You blinked a couple of times, trying to reorient yourself as best you could, despite the smoke filling your nose and throat. Nobody was in the tower except you today. The team had left on some mission this morning. 

Or so you thought. 

Because as you were holding onto the wall, trying to make sense of what was happening to you, you heard someone knocking on the door. 

“Hey, Doc. You in there?” A deep voice. Bucky. “The system notified me that something was wrong up here. Are you okay?” 

Ah shit. Just his voice was making things worse. Your legs trembled, you were gasping for air. Your body throbbing at the mere thought of him, his hands, his mouth, his touch, his– 

“Bucky.” You managed to respond to him. “Please,” You were getting breathless, almost fucking moaning, mouth watering just at the thought of him standing right there… no, no, no. “Please, don’t come in.” You managed to tell him, every fiber of your being wanting nothing more than to just let him use you, let him rut into you, let him– 

“Uh, you don’t sound okay, Doc. Are you hurt?” He asked, the panic and concern very evident in his voice. 

Fuck. No, he had to leave. Now. He had to leave now. 

You managed to lean against the cool wall, trying to see past the pure lust coursing through your veins. You breathed slowly. “Bucky, you have to leave. Okay? I’m not hurt. I’ll be fine, you just have to leave. Now. Please.” 

“No,” He argued, sounding worried. “You don’t sound alright. I’m coming in.” He said. And there was usually no arguing with that tone. 

“No,” You whispered weakly. He had access to everything in this tower. Of course he could unlock the door with no problem. And before you could tell him not to, Bucky was in your lab. “Bucky, no.” You whispered, unable to speak properly. 

You felt warm. Hot. Burning. And you could see Bucky’s large frame moving around in the smoke. 

“Doc, what the–,” He stopped speaking abruptly. You felt the realisation sinking in, even in him. 

You felt tears falling down your face. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, watching him get closer to where you stood, “I’m so sorry. Look, just walk away. We’ll wait it out.” It pained you just to say it. “Go away, Bucky.” 

“Doc,” His voice was strained as he spoke, “What have you done?” His face so somber and blank. He was losing it too… 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again. “I didn’t know it would– I thought I could stop. I didn’t think…” You whimpered as he got closer, your brain – whatever part of it remained coherent and not lust drunk – knew he was feeling it too. 

That pull. That damned itch. That need to feel, or grab, or bite, or fuck another warm body… 

Bucky stood right in front of you. In full tactical gear. His guns were still strapped to his body. His glorious body… strong and muscular. 

“You…” You spoke, despite the burning desire of wanting to just throw yourself at him and let him use you however he wanted. “You have to leave, Buck.” You whimpered, gasping for air, feeling your skin all warm and damp with sweat. 

He was burning too. His fists clenched. His skin shiny with sweat, his body heat almost radiating off him. He was silent, then he reached for you with his metal hand. Tracing his cold metal fingers down your neck, feeling your quick pulse. 

“You know I can’t do that.” His fingers carefully wrapped around your throat. He was losing control. “You know I can’t walk away from this. And neither can you.” 

Something was different about his voice. Something was darker. 

“I’ve been through this before, Doc.” He leaned in and held your stare. “Believe me when I say, it gets worse if you don’t fuck it out of your system. The first hour is fine. Tolerable. But by the third, the fourth hour… you feel like you’re losing your mind. Like you’re not even human anymore. Like you were made just to breed. Like an animal.” 

“Please,” You felt fresh tears fall down your face. The guilt was still there under all the lust and filthy desires.  “I didn’t mean for this to–,” 

“Shh, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got each other. We can get out of this.” He leaned in and nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent which to him felt like the most ambrosial scent ever. “I can make it better.” He promised, pressing his body into yours. “I’ll make it feel good.” 

You whined, tilting your head back and exposing more of your neck and throat. Surrendering. “But, Bucky…” You tried, weakly. 

“Don’t fight it.” He said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. “It gets worse when you fight it, Doc. You know that, don’t you?” 

That darkness in his eyes was new. You didn’t recognise it. 

“I didn’t know it would–,” 

He cut you off. “It would what?” He barked. His icy stare had you frozen in place. “You didn’t know what you were creating?” He taunted, and you noted – even in your own hazy state – that the smoke, the drug, whatever it was, was affecting him way more than it was affecting you. Because judging by his face, his voice, his stare, his movements… Bucky was almost completely gone. “Huh? You didn’t know what this drug was? You didn’t know what it could do? You’re a smart woman, Doc. Surely you knew what you were making…” 

While you were clawing, trying to hold on to your sanity, Bucky’s words were luring over to the other side. “No…” 

“Yes you did.” He accused. “You knew all along. And you still made it.” 

“Please, Bucky.” You begged. You begged for… you didn’t even know what for. All you felt was desire, and pain. A hot pain. Like something inside you contorting, wanting to explode. 

Bucky smirked, both his hands grabbing you this time. “It’s starting to hurt, isn’t it?” 

You blinked away the tears and nodded, pleading with him with your eyes. Then you caught yourself, heavy-eyed, mumbling, “Make it better… please.” 

That did it. That got rid of whatever was making both of you hold back. 

Bucky picked you up and slammed your back against the wall – all while kissing you hungrily, like his life depended on it. You couldn’t even form a proper thought as his tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan into the kiss. 

Your hands slid into his ridiculously soft hair and he held you tightly against him. Your core pressed against his firm body as his mouth moved perfectly against yours, driving you crazy. Well, crazier. 

You didn’t care that you were dry humping him, all riled up just from his kiss. 

“That feels good, huh? Rubbing yourself on me like that?” He moaned quietly into the kiss as your hand gently tugged on his hair. He smirked and spread your legs apart just a little so he could be closer to you. 

His hands held you up, securely against him, he had a very firm grip on your thigh, his other hand placed right under your ass – holding you up while he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. 

“I’m gonna make it better, okay? You hear me, Doc? I’ll make it feel so good.” His lips left yours momentarily to kiss along your jaw, and down your neck, nibbling on your skin and making you moan out loud. 

He pulled away from you for a moment, and stared into your eyes again. Almost like he was looking for any warning signs which told him to stop, “Tell me I can.” He demanded, “Tell me I can fuck you however I want. Tell me I can use your body and make us both feel better.” The pleading tone in his voice was hard to ignore. 

You could tell he was fighting it too. The animalistic, primal urge to fuck. To breed. 

“You can.” You told him, wanting. Just wanting. “Please, I’ll… I'll let you do anything. Just make it feel better.” 

“You’re safe with me, okay? I won’t hurt you. I need you to remember that, okay?” His voice sent chills down your back and you didn’t want to be all slow and gentle anymore, you simply couldn’t wait any longer, so you reached out and started unbuckling his pants, and he helped you by tearing your clothes off, and slipped his hand in between your legs. Your naked, squirming body pressing against his tactical gear felt immoral in a way you couldn’t explain. 

You were wet, embarrassingly so. And even you could tell just by how easily Bucky ran his knuckles along your wet folds, smearing your arousal around in the process. He chuckled right in your ear as you pulled his cock out and stroked it with vigour. 

“Can’t wait, huh?” He slipped his forefinger and his middle finger through your entrance with ease and grunted in your ear as he felt your walls instantly welcoming him in. You could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the spots you wanted him too. “Just wanna be fucked badly, don’t you?” 

“Bucky…” you whimpered and closed your eyes when he leaned down and nibbled on your skin around your collar bones. Something about how desperately, and sinfully his name escaped your lips drove him wild. You bucked your hips against his hand and he chuckled as you moaned out loud while he touched you. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he held you up easily with just his metal hand. The rough material of his gear chafing your skin but you did not care. “Bucky,” You whined when you felt his cock briefly brush against your wet folds. “More, please. Please.” You cried out. 

“I know, I know. I feel it too.” He kissed down your neck, smirking against your skin and peppering it with kisses as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. “I know, baby. I know it hurts. I’ll make it better, okay? Just let me in…” 

He pushed himself into you, stretching you out as he went. His nails digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours clawing at his neck, and shoulders as he filled you up nicely. You were both panting by the time he filled you up entirely. 

He barely gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size before he started rocking in and out of you. You felt all of him, each vein, each stroke brought you to tears with how good he felt. 

“So fucking tight…” he whispered against your cheek, more so to himself. “You’re gonna let me have this tight pussy, huh? Just like that. Hmm? You’re that much of a little slut you’re not even gonna put up a fight, huh?” He stroked your walls with his pulsating cock and you were moaning against his cheek in no time. He enjoyed every second of it. 

Both his hands supported you up by grabbing you at the curve of your ass, holding you against him, as he sped up into you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and said, “I bet you did it on purpose too, huh? You dirty fucking whore.” He hissed in your ear, cock sliding in and out of you as he fucked you like an animal. His brain running on nothing but pure animalistic instincts. “I see the way you look at me, like a bitch in heat. You’ve probably been plotting this for weeks now. Months even.” Bucky accused. “You knew everyone else left for that mission this morning and I stayed back. Maybe you knew it was going to be just you and me in the tower, and it all worked in your favour, huh?” His grip was punishing. “You had me all to yourself. And you knew I’d come to help you. You knew locking the door from inside wasn’t gonna stop me.” 

“No…” You tried to protest, tried to tell him his accusations were wrong. But you could barely talk. “Bucky…” 

He didn’t give you the chance to form coherent sentences. He kept taunting you. “And here we are now, Doc. Here I am, at your fucking service. Your good little soldier doing his job. Fucking you like you wanted it.” He let out a cocky chuckle. “Am I doing a good job, Doc? Am I being a good little soldier, fucking you how you want me to? Hmm? Is this good enough for you? Is this what you always dreamt of?” 

“Buck…” You gasped. “You know that’s not true.” You whined. “I would never… never do this on purpose…,” You gasped, “To you.” 

“No?” He taunted. “But look how well you’re taking it. Look at you. Look at your body swallowing that cock each time like you’d been practising.” He whispered into your ear, his tone filled with lust and filth, “Did you practise, Doc? Did you fuck your biggest toy each night leading up to this in preparation, huh?” 

You moaned out loud again, reciting his name religiously as he slammed into you relentlessly.

He was taking over all your senses and you were more than happy to surrender to him.

You felt the pressure forming, fiery and pressing inside you. While it eased the pain, it also wanted out. It wanted to explode. You needed a release. “Please, Bucky. Please make me come…” 

Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you closer and closer…. 

“So fucking good…” he mumbled softly against your skin while he fucked you like an animal; occasionally growling at how good you felt around him. “Better than I ever thought.” 

Your throbbing clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you, and he soon quickened his pace – earning more moans from you.

“Look at what you did,” He growled in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the large wooden front door with each thrust. “Turned me into a fucking animal. All I can think about is making it good for you. All I want is to fill you up, and fucking breed you. Is that what you want? Want my babies inside you?” He rambled, also getting closer. “I’ll give it all to you, you know that? Not even worried about it, you’ll be a great mommy, won’t you? Won’t you, baby?” 

Your body moved along with his, his cock sliding in and out of you like you were just a toy. And you never complained once. You barely listened to what he was saying, all you did was nod and agree with his ramblings. Thinking he didn’t mean them. It was the drugs talking, you reminded yourself with whatever sanity you had left. 

You could hear the wet sounds caused each time he pushed himself into you and the sounds of your skin slapping against each other. It was downright sinful. 

He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. “Perfect fucking pussy, fuck, you feel like heaven,” He gasped, “Could fuck you all day and do nothing else. Right here in between your legs, huh? Is this where you want me all the time, Doc?” He hissed in pleasure, “Yeah? Does that feel good? Do I feel good inside you?” 

“Yes,” Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly. “Fuck… yes, you feel so good.” 

You felt like you were losing your mind. The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock, screaming his name out loud in the empty lab. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching down his neck. 

“That’s it, baby. There we go, that feels good, huh?” His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls as he emptied inside you. 

“Oh fuck….” You could feel his warmth filling you up. “That feels…” 

“Come here.” He pulled out of you and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you towards your nearby desk, and pushed you on it, making you sit on the edge, legs dangling for a moment as he grabbed your face and gave you a punishing kiss. “Need more from you, you hear me? Be good and give it to me, okay?” 

You were too far gone to even care what position he had you in, all you wanted was him. Inside you. All you cared about was how he’d make the pain go away. So when Bucky grabbed your legs and placed them on the edge of the desk, opening you up to him completely, you let him. 

He placed his hands on your thighs and spread them further apart and took his time inspecting your wet folds. He mindlessly dragged a finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you, occasionally fingering his cum back into you. 

“I wanna see what we taste like together.” He whispered, kneeling down. 

His eyes trailed up to your tits, and his other hand reached up to pinch a nipple, making you yelp. He chuckled, “So pretty, and all mine to play with, yeah?” He whispered, getting down on his knees so his mouth was mere inches away from your clit. “Now, keep your legs spread for me. Just like this. Okay?” 

You nodded, looking down in between your legs as he leaned in and pressed his ravenous mouth shamelessly to your wetness. 

His tongue, his lips, the gentle suction of his warm mouth – it was all too much. He moved his head side to side, his coarse stubble brushing against your soft inner thighs. You whined and trembled, trying to keep your voice down as he made you lose your mind by eating you out like a starved man. 

Then he looked up, meeting your eyes as the lower half of his face was completely submerged into your wet cunt. And that did it. You came with a yelp and a moan, riding his face and tugging on his hair. 

He got up quickly and grabbed your face, breathing heavily with wetness all over his lips, “You wanna taste us together? Yeah? Wanna see how good we are?” 

You nodded, delirious. And he leaned in to kiss you again. A messy, warm, filthy kiss. Bucky only pulled away when you were breathless and begging him to stop. He was panting by the time he was done abusing your mouth. 

Then he looked down at your cunt, seeing the way wetness kept oozing out your hole. 

“Look at that,” He looked down in between your spread, trembling legs and pointed at the little puddle of wetness you’d left there on top of the desk. “You made a mess, baby. Better clean it up.” 

He pulled you off the desk and bent you over, pushing your face down, right into the little puddle you’d created there when you came for him. 

“I said clean it!” He hissed, sliding his cock back inside you from behind. “Let me see that tongue licking all that up.” He growled, “Yes, that’s it. Lick it clean, baby, come on.” He pressed down on the back of your neck, refusing to let go. “Did you get it all cleaned up? Huh? Give me a taste of that then, come here,” He pulled you up, manhandling you however he wanted. He grabbed your face and turned it to the side to kiss your open, wet, and warm mouth. You were panting by now. He didn’t care, he took whatever he wanted. Shoving his tongue into your mouth and sucking your taste, stealing it. 

He pulled away and that wild look in his eyes made you throb. “So fucking good…” Then he spat in your mouth and pushed you back down, bending you over your desk again and went back to fucking you from behind, keeping a tight grip on the back of your neck. 

You whimpered as his pelvic bone smacked against your ass each time he thrust into you. 

“Look at that body,” He mumbled. “Look at how perfect you are.” He teased, “Who knew our resident, nerdy little scientist would be such a filthy little slut for me, huh?” He slowed down, grabbing your neck and pulling you back into his chest, getting closer to your ear as he said, “Is that what you are now, Doc? Are you my little slut? Tell me. Tell me you’re my little slut and I can breed you whenever I want to. Tell me I get to use you whenever I feel like it.” He hissed, “Fucking tell me.” 

You whimpered, “Yes I am. I am your little slut, please just… you can do whatever you want, Bucky, just please make me come.” 

Bucky chuckled, cocky now that he’d heard all that he wanted to hear. “Yes you are, baby. A perfect little slut for me. Just for me.” 

Then he resumed fucking you like an animal. His moans and groans loud in your ear. 

“You better come for me, slut.” He growled into your ear. “You hear me? Come on this cock, come on. I want it wet with your cum.” 

His words made you delirious. Lust drunk even more than ever before. You moaned as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in between your hips. 

“Oh…” You whined, “Bucky, I’m gonna come.” You cried, and you were pretty sure you had warm tears streaming down your face. 

“Come on, baby. Come on. Let me fill you up again, huh? You’re gonna just be a good girl and take it, huh? You’ll just be nothing but a cum dump for me, that’s it, angel. Milk that fucking cock, it’s all yours baby… all yours.” 

You couldn’t hold it any longer. And you came all over his cock, crying with hot tears down your face. 

“Yes… look at you.” He cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire. “You come so good for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered even more. He felt agonisingly good, even though you were so sensitive that each stroke had you whimpering and trembling. 

Bucky came right after you, grunting and sighing in pleasure. His warm load shooting inside you as your body shook against the desk. 

“Fuck, angel, you’re so full of my cum.” He pulled out and pushed back into you, a shallow thrust, as if to test something out. “There, I can feel it all inside you.” 

Your mind was a foggy mess. The lab was clearer now though, no more smoke poisoning your brains. But there was enough in both your systems that Bucky only had to wait another minute, before he was ready to go again. 

Turning you around and stepping in between your legs and slid back into you again. “It’s getting better, huh? The pain? Are you okay, baby?” 

You just nodded and let him take over. 

A few slow strokes, then the animal in him took the reins again. Bucky fucked hard and fast into you, his teeth bruising your lips. His mouth swallowing your moans, as he whispered against your open mouth, “It’s all yours, all fucking yours. This is what you wanted, huh? This cock is all you wanted? Should’ve just asked, baby. You didn’t have to do all this. Should’ve just looked up at me with those pretty eyes, gave me one of those please fuck me looks and i would’ve done it.” He chuckled, ending with a loud moan. “Fuck, I would’ve done it. I would’ve taken care of you so fucking good…” 

“Please,” You begged, “Please, Bucky, can you–,” A loud moan escaping your mouth cut you off. 

“What?” He hissed. 

“I want to taste you, please come in my mouth.” You asked, your brain barely registering what you were asking for. 

He chuckled, “No, no, no. I can't waste all this.” He reasoned. “This goes in you, right? That’s why you did all of this? To be pumped full of my cum, right? So no, baby. Can’t waste it all by shoving all this down your throat instead of in your womb.” He teased, “Sorry, but not this time.” 

Moments later, you were coming undone loudly while Bucky was spilling inside you, some of it oozing out all around his cock, which was still snug inside you. “There,” He gathered some on his finger tips, chuckling, “I guess you can have some of it.” He shoved his fingers into your mouth, which you greedily sucked on like it was fucking ambrosia. Bucky hissed, “Yeah, you like that? The taste of me?” 

You nodded, his fingers still deep into your mouth. 

“You want more?” He asked.  

You nodded again. 

“Let’s go then. I need a bed to properly break you in.” 

—

Hours later, finally satiated, Bucky decided you two could stop now. That agonising hunger subsided. 

He was spent. As were you. And he had barely any energy left. But he made an effort, hissing as he got up and out of bed, feeling all his muscles screaming after hours of non-stop fucking. He stood there, stretching his limbs a little as he looked over at you. 

You were buried under his blankets and pillows, only your pretty face was visible. And your eyes were shutting more and more. Bucky leaned over and caressed your face, waking you up gently. “Hey, baby. Wake up.” He whispered gently. “I need you to drink something, okay? Don’t fall asleep just yet.” 

You whined, “Just wanna sleep.” You mumbled. 

“I know, I know.” Bucky walked over to his mini fridge and got some sugary drinks out. “But you need to drink this, okay.” He walked back to bed and forced you up, pulling you onto his lap so he could better observe whether you were drinking all of it or not. “Come on, have some more. You need it, angel, please.” He reasoned, kissing your shoulder, and rubbing your thighs. 

You finished your drink, and leaned back against Bucky, thankful for his warm chest and his strong arms holding you up. 

“I got you, angel, I got you,” He murmured, his hands rubbing all over you. He didn’t care that he was smearing his own cum all over your thighs and abdomen, it felt weirdly good. Like he was marking you. “I’m sorry I got so rough earlier,” He apologised, kissing your shoulder. “You just felt so good, I wanted your body to bend and break for me.” He kissed your tired body wherever he could, “Am I forgiven?” He kissed your neck until it tickled, “Hmm? Do you forgive me for being rough earlier?” 

He earned a sleepy drowsy giggle. “Yes, Buck.” You answered, letting him tuck you back in bed. “Need to shower,” You mumbled. 

Bucky answered, saying, “Later, baby.” And he kept kissing you, murmuring praises and post-sex rambles into your ear. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He spooned you from behind, not minding the sticky, sweaty mess you both were. “My perfect girl…” 

You were too close to falling asleep to note the change in his tone. The slight darkness lacing his words. Still. 

Bucky pressed his body to yours, caging you in his arms. Then noticed the way you backed up into him, purposely because you did it twice. 

“Again?” He asked you, chuckling when you nodded at his question, your butt pressing into his crotch as you drifted off… barely conscious and letting out the tiniest, softest moans as he slid his cock back inside you. Hard already. With ease. Fucking you slowly and enjoying the feeling of your wet warmth wrapped around him. 

He knew your body by heart now, so even in the dark he let his hands roam all over you. Touching you exactly where you needed to be touched. 

You let out a sleepy whimper, “Mhmm,” And mumbled some nonsense, “...feels so good.” You let out a sigh. “Gonna need you all the time now.” 

“I know, baby.” Bucky murmured, already spilling inside you. Filling you up with his cum again. “I know it feels good.” He tightened his arms around you, left his cock snug inside you and pulled you closer to him, whispering against the back of your neck, “And we would’ve never known how good it can be if I hadn’t intervened to speed things up, now would we?” 

How long had he yearned for this? For you? Months maybe. But you were always so cautious, always so proper. Always so distant and with frozen, icy walls around your heart. Bucky could never get in. But he wanted you. Oh, how he wanted you since the day he first saw you. 

Gods… it was so easy to sneak those files into your computer. And he knew you were so curious by nature that you wouldn’t have been able to resist looking into them. And once you looked, you wouldn’t be able to resist trying to recreate something so forbidden. 

All he had to do was let you believe that he’d left that morning with the team as well. But he never did. He planned things too well. Stalled just enough so that right as they were about to take off, Bucky was able to pull back. Showing everyone that the system had alerted him that there was something going on in the lab. The team agreed that Bucky would stay behind and deal with that while they went away and carried on with the mission. 

So then, just as he had planned, you two were all alone in the tower and he was at the lab at the right time. Barging in to get you out, like a hero. And accidentally inhaled all that vapour that drove him wild… 

And here he was now. His plan was well executed. 

Bucky playfully bit your skin, tasting you like you were there just for that. “You played your part well, baby. Thank you for that.” He smiled upon hearing another one of those sleepy moans escaping your mouth. “And now you’re all mine.” He whispered into your ear. 

—

a/n: what? I was horny okay…

[science-hoes]

Taste

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: FILTHY smut, lactation kink, unprotected sex, language, canon typical medical drama, mentions of addiction

Description: Robby is fighting nicotine withdrawals, but the reader has something sweeter to curb the cravings.

Michael Rovinavitch Masterlist

—

Robby sipped on the beer that Donnie had tossed him before leaving the usual post-shift hangout. He used to stay longer, maybe even have two beers, but now he had you and Eliza. That was much more rewarding after a grueling day in the Pitt.

Especially after today. Three kids ended up in his ER following a “chicken pox party.” They had been given aspirin and developed Reye’s syndrome, each being sent to the pediatric ICU after Robby evaluated them. What a surprise that anti-vax parents also didn’t know the contraindications of aspirin. The parents were sent with them, but not without a scathing lecture from the chief attending. The selfishness of those parents refusing to immunize their children bewildered him in general, but now that he had a baby girl waiting at home for him, who didn’t have a full immune system yet, it made his blood boil.

As he walked home, he could smell the intoxicatingly thick smell of cigarettes as he passed by strangers with the vice between their fingers. His eyes nearly rolled back at the aroma, wishing he could relieve his stress with a long drag. Just one, that’s all he would need. But cigarettes were seductive, and he could never have just one. Instead, he reached into the side pocket of his backpack and popped a piece of nicotine gum out of the aluminum packet. Not nearly enough of the drug compared to a cigarette, but it kept him clean.

Robby approached the small but beautiful house you had picked out together just a month ago. Only a few blocks from PTMC, making it an easy walk to and from work. That was the main selling point, along with the somewhat spacious backyard for Eliza to play in as she grew up. He juggled his keys, finding the new house key, and unlocked the door carefully.

“Hey, kid. I’m home.” He called out, but not too loud, just in case the baby was sleeping.

After there was no response, he shut the door quietly behind him. His backpack dropped to the floor, a physical metaphor for the burden that fell off his back the moment he smelled the warm vanilla scent of the candle you had been burning. Even while on maternity leave, you found time to make the new house feel welcoming.

Robby stepped out of his New Balance sneakers and padded across the hardwood floor to the living room. There he saw you on the couch, cradling Eliza in your arms, as she drifted off to sleep. The sight was truly beautiful. He couldn’t hide his smile even if he wanted to.

You looked up to him and smiled. “Hey.” You whispered.

He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his nose into your shoulder. A heavy exhale left his lungs while he watched his daughter. Eliza’s eyelids fluttered as she dreamed in her mother’s arms.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” Robby mumbled into the fabric of your shirt. His shirt, actually.

You tilted your head slightly until it rested against his. “Long day?”

“Mmhmm.” He murmured.

“Do you want to put Eliza down? Then we can talk about it?” You asked.

That was the routine in the Robinavitch household since Eliza was born three months ago. Robby would come home from his 12 hour shift, but the baby would already be asleep. So, you let him put her down in the crib, always taking a few minutes to absorb her snuggles and kiss her before letting her rest until she woke up in the middle of the night. He would always get her before you could register her cries, just for the chance to see her while she was awake.

Robby sighed heavily and shook his head reluctantly. “No. We had some kids come in today with Reye’s syndrome from chicken pox. I don’t want to touch her right now just in case.” He answered, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

You turned your head slightly to press a kiss to his temple. “Okay. Let me put her down then.” You offered.

Robby didn’t answer but let go of your waist. As you slowly made your way to the nursery, he couldn’t help but watch the dancing flame coming from the candle you had lit. Almost taunting him. The same tiny burst of light that used to burn his tobacco for him. He rubbed his eyes to alleviate his thoughts, jaw faithfully chewing the gum that was supposed to be curbing his desire.

You walked back into the room and noticed his distress. “What’s wrong, love?” You asked as you sank in the couch next to him.

Robby’s hands moved from his eyes to scratch his beard. “You know it’s days like this that I really crave a fucking cigarette.” He muttered.

Your hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, fingertips kneading into the wrinkles there. “You don’t want to break your clean streak. Is the gum not helping anymore?” You asked.

He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes, indulging in the comforting movements. “I’m going through a pack a day.” He admitted.

“What about Zyns? That’s what Langdon uses.” You suggested.

He huffed and opened his eyes just to roll them. “Yeah, because he’s the poster child for making good drug choices.”

Your eyes narrowed, massaging hands stopped. “Michael.”

Robby scrunched his face at the use of his first name and nodded. “Sorry, that was mean.” He confessed. He held his hands in front of him, watching the way they trembled. “I’ve gotta do something. I’m fucking shaking. I can barely run a simple stitch. This plus the caffeine…it’s getting to be too much.”

After his apology, your nails began to scratch the freshly buzzed hairline at the base of his neck. “Maybe it’s time for one of those nicotine nasal sprays?” You offered.

He just nodded in agreement, leaning back into your touch. He would have fallen asleep right there on the couch like that, with your hand in his hair, but your tiny moans of discomfort pulled him back to reality. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked, sitting up a bit.

You pressed your hands to your chest, pushing against your breasts to relieve some kind of pressure. “I’m gonna have to pump again.” You grunted.

Robby put his hand on your back as you shifted uncomfortably. “How many times today?” He questioned.

“Eight.” You admitted.

His brow furrowed with slight concern. “Eight?”

You nodded. “I’m gonna have to start taking some of the frozen milk to a bank. We don’t have enough room in the freezer for anymore.”

Robby watched you for a moment, gears in that genius brain of his turning, jaw grinding on the nicotine gum. Without a word, he got up and walked to the kitchen. You heard him spit the gum out in the trashcan before he returned. He shrugged of his navy hoodie and tossed it on the ground. He sank onto the couch again, legs sprawling naturally, and patted his thigh.

“Come here.” He ordered.

You watched him with skeptical eyes, but followed his lead as he guided your legs until you straddled him.

“Robby, I need to-“

“I’m gonna handle it.” He cut you off.

Before you could answer, he’d pulled that baggy old shirt of his off your upper body, leaving you in nothing but your pajama shorts and maternity bra. His coarse hands ran across the luxuriously smooth skin of your waist, thumbs brushing against your shriveling stretch marks from pregnancy.

Your cheeks reddened as you realized his intentions. “Oh.” Was all you could say.

His fingers trailed across your skin until they reached behind you, unclasping your bra. The silky straps slid down your shoulders, and you tossed the bra behind you. Robby groaned unconsciously as your breasts dropped to your chest and a smirk played at his lips.

“What immunoglobulin is found in breast milk?” He asked.

Your eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. You grabbed fistfuls of his black scrub top, pulling him forward. “Don’t you dare quiz me right now.” You hissed.

Robby’s smirk turned into a devilish grin, and those brown eyes darkened with blown pupils. “I’m your attending. It’s my job. Plus you have boards coming up soon.” He replied.

Your glare could have sliced through marble, but your husband was a force to be reckoned with. “Breastfeeding isn’t on the board exam.” You grumbled.

He chuckled and winked at you, that fucking charming man. “It could be.” He teased.

Your breathing was becoming labored as the fullness in your chest increased. “Michael Robinavitch, if you do not help me, I will report you to the Board for sharing unauthorized board exam content.” You threatened.

But he knew your threats were empty and driven by madness, and that diabolical grin remained on his face, smile wrinkles deepening around his eyes. He tilted his chin up to where his lips ghosted against yours. “I would answer the question if I were you.”

His fingers began to trace your shoulders, moving down but not close enough. You shoved him back against the couch, his hospital badge clacking against his chest. “IgA.” You finally answered through clenched teeth.

“Good girl.”

Robby’s large, freckled hands moved to your engorged breasts, massaging them gently. The sound that left your throat was animalistic. You grasped his forearms, trying to guide him to what you needed.

“What is the sympathetic innervation of the myoepithelial cells in breast tissue?” His voice was unwavering.

Your face scrunched as the fullness began to become overbearing. “Robby…” You growled.

His thumbs hovered above your aching nipples. “Come on, pretty girl.” He beckoned.

You struggled to sort through your medical education as his hands kneaded into your chest. “T1 through T5.” You responded.

Robby chuckled and moved his lips to your breast, his beard adding a rough sensation. “Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed, beginning to kiss your skin.

His fingers began to tweak your nipples, eliciting a moan of painful pleasure from you. Your hips rocked once against his absentmindedly. “Michael, please.” You begged, grabbing the back of his head to guide him.

Robby paused all of his ministrations to look up at you with those big brown eyes, glistening in the dark. “Last question.” He mumbled against your breasts. “What hormone initiates the let-down reflex?”

Your chest heaved in anticipation, and your grip on the back of his head tightened. “Oxytocin.” You answered like your life fucking depended on it.

He smiled and wrapped his lips around one of your hard nipples. Your mouth dropped open as he suckled gently and kept his fingers on your other breast. His free hand moved to your lower pack, guiding your hips to rock against his. You could feel his hardness teasing against your clothed pussy as you grinded.

Then that familiar pins and needles sensation rushed through your chest. You shuddered as the let down reflex ran its course. Robby hummed against your breast as the first drops of milk graced his suckling tongue. Liquid pearls slowly dribbled down his hand that tweaked at the other nipple. The rush of oxytocin seeped through your whole body, and you finally relaxed in your husband’s embrace.

Your fingers massaged the back of his neck like you had earlier, rewarding him for his assistance. His rapid, small suckles began to turn into longer, deeper pulls as the flow became continuous. Your other breast began to leak freely, a small river of cream streaking down his hairy forearm. He breathed loudly through his nose in between swallows, indulging his new favorite dessert.

“What does it taste like?” You breathed, enamored by the sight before you.

Robby took a long drag at your nipple before sitting up and pressing his mouth against yours without a word, pouring your own nectar onto your tongue, the rest spilling in between your chins. It was sweeter than you expected, and you understood why he hadn’t come up for air in several minutes.

“Jesus, fuck, I’d swallow poison if it tasted like you.” He mumbled against your lips.

You pulled away to look at him. The beads of white meshed into his beard, peppering it further, and his lips were swollen from suction. Your husband had never looked so viscerally attractive. You reached at his waist and hiked up his scrub top, tossing it behind you.

“Can I please ride you?” You asked, desperately chasing your oxytocin high.

Robby chuckled and leaned back against the couch for a moment to shift out of his scrub bottoms and boxers. “Can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” He teased.

You giggled and shimmied out of your pajama shorts that had a wet stain already. Without a moment of hesitation, you sank down on his massive cock, the familiar stretch that still made your back arch. He took advantage and latched onto your nipple again, groaning at your tightness before he began to suck.

You bounced on his hips, adding to the suction patterns he pulled on your breast. He continued to tug at the other nipple, the milk spraying across his bare chest, scratching the itch in your sensory neurons. His thrusts grew stronger, and your release drew closer.

“Robby, I’m gonna-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Robby fisted both of your breasts, squeezed them together, and enveloped both nipples in his mouth. You held back a scream as he swallowed hard around them, determined to get every last drop.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the white hot explosion of your climax shot across your nervous system. Your body went limp, draping your arms around his shoulders. His grunts became more frequent as his hip thrusts faltered at the feeling of your pulsing walls. The only time his mouth let go of your breasts was to grunt as he came. You rocked gently, working him through his orgasm, pulling every last bit of cum he had to offer.

Robby slouched back against the couch, and you enjoyed the view. His soft upper body glistening with sweat and tributaries of milk. His face and ears flushed with exertion. His lips swollen from half an hour of suckling. The pearls of milk still nestled into his beard.

“You’re hot.” You teased, resting your hands on his biceps, tracing his tattoos.

He let out a strangled chuckle as he caught his breath, and a content smile played on his lips. “You keep me young, kid. You know that?” He asked.

You smiled and leaned to give him a sweet, soft kiss on his puffed lips. “Good. We need you around for a long time.” You replied.

Robby lifted his hand to caress your face. “I’m gonna be. Not gonna miss a second.” He assured you.

You raised an eyebrow. “That means no relapsing on cigarettes.” You lectured.

He sighed and nodded. “I know.” He replied, looking down at his forearms that were still streaked with milk. “But I think I found something to distract from the cravings.” He winked at you as he dragged his tongue across his veiny forearm up to his wrist, gathering every last drop.

You couldn’t help but blush through your laugh. Carefully, you lifted off his lap and pulled your pajama shorts back on. You used the old t-shirt that you had been wearing to clean up the mess on your chest and his.

“Hey! That’s my shirt.” Robby complained as you wiped his upper body.

You shook your head. “It’s our shirt.”

He rolled his eyes and hoisted his boxers and scrub pants back on. Just as he was about to make a snarky comment, tiny cries came from the baby monitor that sat on the table next to the couch.

You smiled slightly. “Go see our girl. She’s missed you.” You said.

He hesitated for a moment. “I saw those kids today.” He said.

“You don’t have your scrub top on. Use the hand sanitizer next to the changing table. You’ll be alright, doc.” You replied.

Robby chuckled and headed to the nursery. Within seconds, the crying stopped, and you heard his smooth voice singing a Hebrew lullaby to Eliza. He reentered the living room with your baby girl tucked into his elbow like a football. She was so tiny compared to his large frame. You walked over to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Eliza’s big brown eyes stared at her father’s identical ones.

“Did you have a good day with Mommy?” He cooed.

She reached for the sparkling pendant at his neck, and he held her closer to put it in her grasp. Her tiny fingers wrapped around the Star, pulling it to her mouth.

“She’s gonna start using that to teeth pretty soon.” You mused.

He smiled. “I know. She’s getting so big.”

You felt an unusual ache in your heart. “I know. I hate it.” You admitted.

“I’ll stay up with her a little longer. You get some sleep. You’ve been working hard today.” He offered, pressing a kiss to your head.

You stifled a laugh. “You’re the one who worked a 12 hour shift.” You reminded him.

Robby met your gaze, his eyes shining in the living room glow. “You’re with our daughter all day. Taking care of her. Loving her. Making our new house a home.” He leaned down to kiss you sincerely. “You’re giving me the world, kid. That deserves some rest.”

You hugged your husband tightly, tears stinging your eyes. “Thank you.” You whispered.

“Thank you.” He repeated. “Now, go. I’ve got our girl.” He assured.

You kissed Eliza goodnight before walking to the bedroom. As you neared the room, you heard Robby’s voice carrying through the hallways as he sang his Hebrew lullaby again.

—

A/N: Thank y’all for humoring my pathetic Dr. Robby thoughts. As soon as I came up with this idea, I couldn’t stop writing until it was done. I can’t wait to write some more smut for him.

[lezhuntrr]

current fantasy is a lesbian who needs some easy money and happens finding an up and coming woman owned, lgbt porn studio and applying for a part time gig right away, just to show up for her second interview and orientation to find out just about all her coworkers to be, all the stars, the staff, almost everyone is trans. it’s not like she has a problem with it, she’s not that kind of dyke, it’s just… surprising! there’s a part of her that feels like making whatever excuses she needs and turning tail, but she prides herself on being open minded, so she just swallows her pride, presses her thighs together, and smiles as she listens to her new manager explain her role here.

…and just like that little pit of fear in her stomach was telling her, they’re just hiring her for her cunt. literally; her, along with the other two cuntgirls on staff, will be working as fluffers and lube dispensers to feed their tops libidos and keep them raring to go for their busy scenes. if a girl starts getting distracted, bored, or anything else soft part way through, it’s on them to slip between the other entertainers when the cameras are off and gently, sweetly thicken them back up. “intercrucal and other outercourse is the standard,” her manager says, “… though whatever works, works. oral is common, hand stuff, a little light play, whatever. but in the interest of being totally clear, it’s the novelty of your cunt that’s gonna be doing the most work for you. our girls are very happily familiar with each other, but cis dyke pussy is the one thing they can’t give each other, so we rely on girls like you to spice things up for them. other than that, our tops have their own tastes, so do your best to pick up on those preferences over time, save yourself some effort.” shes shocked enough that she can’t even think of what to say or how to politely refuse, so she just sits there for a moment with her new boss smiling down at her before a little bundle of forms are pushed into her arms and she’s sent further in to shadow a coworker before she can change her mind.

…and things go simply, and well, if not embarrassingly. they’re shooting a gangbang today, so when they cut and take breaks while getting ready to block new shots, it’s between the new cuntgirl and her coworker to nurse and work their cocks. she’s hardly willing to do much at first, but watching the vet here kneeling beside her, easing someone deeper into her mouth while slapping another girls dick against her face helps make the decision easier. she reluctantly reaches out to feel at the other stars dicks as they joke with each other and break the ice asking about her, her hands slowly easing into awkward, inexperienced handjobs. she mumbles out brief introductions and tries not to blush harder when she feels them pulsing and firming up in her fingers, and spends the next two minutes jerking them off and answering questions about herself that get more and more invasive until they’re rock hard. she was able to get up and out of the shot again, for now; but they’d do this two more times before they were done for today. finally heading home, she’s still scandalized and unable to get comfortable in her seat; mentally, she was prepared to do a scene or two after getting introduced to a co star, so it wasn’t that much of a shock. but just getting used like that, feeling their desire to do more to do hot against her skin, the way their eyes rolled over her, appraising her like meat… something about it got under her skin and went somewhere. even so… the pay was good, she’s doing even less work than she thought she would, doesnt have to worry about videos of her online, and everyone was friendly, warm enough. so she decides to stick with it for now.

and while her girlfriend isn’t thrilled about it, she keeps coming back and picking up hours where she can over the next few weeks. she opens up bit by bit and gets to know everyone else, learn names, settle into her place in the social system. which makes it easier to cede ground and do more when the stars start getting needier. it’s letting a girl fuck your mouth once when she really needed to get back on set, and then getting talked into blowing all the other stars one by one so they don’t feel left out. she’s not surprised when they start getting handsy; soon she’s getting bent over and having her thighs fucked daily. most of the girls love to keep it close and intimate, so any clothes she keeps on get sweaty and full of dick smell. she brings a fresh set to change into afterwards, but the sweat sticks to her anyway, and her girlfriend can only imagine what shes up to when out of sight. their tension settles into an uneasy silence and she makes a habit of heading right for the shower after work. they stop having sex with their strap on, too; she doesn’t fully realize it, but it just doesn’t feel as comfortable without another’s heat anymore. she chalks it up to circumstances each time, but she just can’t get wet the same way for the toy anymore.

it’s her third month there when she caves and lets one of them fuck her. it happens casually, carelessly, not even on set, just taken by the moment with one of the studs she got to know first there. complaining about poor scripts one minute, then get groped into the couch the other. she’d practice her technique with the other cuntgirls or a star not on scene sometimes, but she knew this wasn’t that, and she kissed back anyway. she wanted this, needed somewhere for all that built up sexual frustration to go. getting left half used again and again built up into hunger that she was getting tired of ignoring. when she felt how hard she was, it was her who spread her legs, no guidance needed. when they were panting into each others mouths, skin on skin, wet against each other, it was her who begged to feel it inside. before she knew it she was blissed out in her besties arms, letting the fight get fucked out of her as she shivers and gets dumber with every inch that gets lovingly worked into her cunt. her heart raced and she knew she should stop, but all she could think of doing was wrapping her legs around her mates hips and bearing this a little longer. so close and so dumb. she can’t handle it, having a girl who’s always been chill, collected and professional enough with her completely lose it in her cunt. she cums first, and then a second time quick afterwards as her studs getting greedier and hungrier with her thrusts, holding her fast and grunting into her mouth. using her cunt to stroke herself up to finish. and then she’s hot inside and out and spilling down her thighs before she can think responsibly again. she’s respectful and sweet when cleaning up and at work next, but sooner or later the other girls start to get word, and then she’s spreading her legs and offering up her cunt on the reg. she puts up a bit of resistance, gives herself some time, but soon enough she relents and just starts getting passed around almost every time she’s at work. she doesn’t regret it, with how much it taught her about what she really wants, but she still doesn’t know how she’s gonna explain the positive pregnancy test to her girl. maybe she’s better off going single and focusing on work for a while…

[eikotheblue]

How do you *accidentally* make a programming language?

Oh, it's easy! You make a randomizer for a game, because you're doing any% development, you set up the seed file format such that each line of the file defines an event listener for a value change of an uberstate (which is an entry of the game's built-in serialization system for arbitrary data that should persiste when saved).

You do this because it's a fast hack that lets you trigger pickup grants on item finds, since each item find always will correspond with an uberstate change. This works great! You smile happily and move on.

There's a small but dedicated subgroup of users who like using your randomizer as a canvas! They make what are called "plandomizer seeds" ("plandos" for short), which are seed files that have been hand-written specifically to give anyone playing them a specific curated set of experiences, instead of something random. These have a long history in your community, in part because you threw them a few bones when developing your last randomizer, and they are eager to see what they can do in this brave new world.

A thing they pick up on quickly is that there are uberstates for lots more things than just item finds! They can make it so that you find double jump when you break a specific wall, or even when you go into an area for the first time and the big splash text plays. Everyone agrees that this is neat.

It is in large part for the plando authors' sake that you allow multiple line entries for the same uberstate that specify different actions - you have the actions run in order. This was a feature that was hacked into the last randomizer you built later, so you're glad to be supporting it at a lower level. They love it! It lets them put multiple items at individual locations. You smile and move on.

Over time, you add more action types besides just item grants! Printing out messages to your players is a great one for plando authors, and is again a feature you had last time. At some point you add a bunch for interacting with player health and energy, because it'd be easy. An action that teleports the player to a specific place. An action that equips a skill to the player's active skill bar. An action that removes a skill or ability.

Then, you get the brilliant idea that it'd be great if actions could modify uberstates directly. Uberstates control lots of things! What if breaking door 1 caused door 2 to break, so you didn't have to open both up at once? What if breaking door 2 caused door 1 to respawn, and vice versa, so you could only go through 1 at a time? Wouldn't that be wonderful? You test this change in some simple cases, and deploy it without expecting people to do too much with it.

Your plando authors quickly realize that when actions modify uberstates, the changes they make can trigger other actions, as long as there are lines in their files that listen for those. This excites them, and seems basically fine to you, though you do as an afterthought add an optional parameter to your uberstate modification action that can be used to suppress the uberstate change detector, since some cases don't actually want that behavior.

(At some point during all of this, the plando authors start hunting through the base game and cataloging unused uberstates, to be used as arbitrary variables for their nefarious purposes. You weren't expecting that! Rather than making them hunt down and use a bunch of random uberstates for data storage, you sigh and add a bunch of explicitly-unused ones for them to play with instead.)

Then, your most arcane plando magician posts a guide on how to use the existing systems to set up control flow. It leverages the fact that setting an uberstate to a value it already has does not trigger the event listener for that uberstate, so execution can branch based on whether or not a state has been set to a specific value or not!

Filled with a confused mixture of pride and fear, you decide that maybe you should provide some kind of native control flow structure that isn't that? And because you're doing a lot of this development underslept and a bit past your personal Balmer peak, the first idea that you have and implement is conditional stops, which are actions that halt processing of a multiple-action-chain if an uberstate is [less than, equal to, greater than] a given value.

The next day, you realize that your seed specification format now can, while executing an action chain, read from memory, write to memory, branch based on what it finds in memory, and loop. It can simulate a turing machine, using the uberstates as tape. You set out to create a format by which your seed generator could talk to your client mod, and have ended up with a turing complete programming language. You laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

[reasonsforhope]

"In an unprecedented transformation of China’s arid landscapes, large-scale solar installations are turning barren deserts into unexpected havens of biodiversity, according to groundbreaking research from the Chinese Academy of Sciences. The study reveals that solar farms are not only generating clean energy but also catalyzing remarkable ecological restoration in some of the country’s most inhospitable regions.

The research, examining 40 photovoltaic (PV) plants across northern China’s deserts, found that vegetation cover increased by up to 74% in areas with solar installations, even in locations using only natural restoration measures. This unexpected environmental dividend comes as China cements its position as the global leader in solar energy, having added 106 gigawatts of new installations in 2022 alone.

“Artificial ecological measures in the PV plants can reduce environmental damage and promote the condition of fragile desert ecosystems,” says Dr. Benli Liu, lead researcher from the Chinese Academy of Sciences. “This yields both ecological and economic benefits.”

The economic implications are substantial. “We’re witnessing a paradigm shift in how we view desert solar installations,” says Professor Zhang Wei, environmental economist at Beijing Normal University. “Our cost-benefit analysis shows that while initial ecological construction costs average $1.5 million per square kilometer, the long-term environmental benefits outweigh these investments by a factor of six within just a decade.” ...

“Soil organic carbon content increased by 37.2% in areas under solar panels, and nitrogen levels rose by 24.8%,” reports Dr. Sarah Chen, soil scientist involved in the project. “These improvements are crucial indicators of ecosystem health and sustainability.”

...Climate data from the study sites reveals significant microclimate modifications:

Average wind speeds reduced by 41.3% under panel arrays

Soil moisture retention increased by 32.7%

Ground surface temperature fluctuations decreased by 85%

Dust storm frequency reduced by 52% in solar farm areas...

The scale of China’s desert solar initiative is staggering. As of 2023, the country has installed over 350 gigawatts of solar capacity, with 30% located in desert regions. These installations cover approximately 6,000 square kilometers of desert terrain, an area larger than Delaware.

“The most surprising finding,” notes Dr. Wang Liu of the Desert Research Institute, “is the exponential increase in insect and bird species. We’ve documented a 312% increase in arthropod diversity and identified 27 new bird species nesting within the solar farms between 2020 and 2023.”

Dr. Yimeng Wang, the study’s lead author, emphasizes the broader implications: “This study provides evidence for evaluating the ecological benefit and planning of large-scale PV farms in deserts.”

The solar installations’ positive impact stems from several factors. The panels act as windbreaks, reducing erosion and creating microhabitats with lower evaporation rates. Perhaps most surprisingly, the routine maintenance of these facilities plays a crucial role in the ecosystem’s revival.

“The periodic cleaning of solar panels, occurring 7-8 times annually, creates consistent water drip lines beneath the panels,” explains Wang. “This inadvertent irrigation system promotes vegetation growth and the development of biological soil crusts, essential for soil stability.” ...

Recent economic analysis reveals broader benefits:

Job creation: 4.7 local jobs per megawatt of installed capacity

Tourism potential: 12 desert solar sites now offer educational tours

Agricultural integration: 23% of sites successfully pilot desert agriculture beneath panels

Carbon reduction: 1.2 million tons CO2 equivalent avoided per gigawatt annually

Dr. Maya Patel, visiting researcher from the International Renewable Energy Agency, emphasizes the global implications: “China’s desert solar model could be replicated in similar environments worldwide. The Sahara alone could theoretically host enough solar capacity to meet global electricity demand four times over while potentially greening up to 20% of the desert.”

The Chinese government has responded by implementing policies promoting “solar energy + sand control” and “solar energy + ecological restoration” initiatives. These efforts have shown promising results, with over 92% of PV plants constructed since 2017 incorporating at least one ecological construction mode.

Studies at facilities like the Qinghai Gonghe Photovoltaic Park demonstrate that areas under solar panels score significantly better in environmental assessments compared to surrounding regions, indicating positive effects on local microclimates.

As the world grapples with dual climate and biodiversity crises, China’s desert solar experiment offers a compelling model for sustainable development. The findings suggest that renewable energy infrastructure, when thoughtfully implemented, can serve as a catalyst for environmental regeneration, potentially transforming the world’s deserts from barren wastelands into productive, life-supporting ecosystems.

“This is no longer just about energy production,” concludes Dr. Liu. “We’re witnessing the birth of a new approach to ecosystem rehabilitation that could transform how we think about desert landscapes globally. The next decade will be crucial as we scale these solutions to meet both our climate and biodiversity goals.”"

-via Green Fingers, January 13, 2025

[feminist-space]

Cat in the Hat:

"The German Health Minister gave an important update on the Covid situation yesterday.

I’ve written up the section of his speech from the video below for easy reading.

It’s immensely refreshing to see a government minister warning of the harms of Covid in such a transparent way."

https://x.com/_catinthehat/status/1732092683508678954

Prof. Karl Lauterbach

Health Minister, Germany

4 December 2023

"This second (long Covid) round table was very interesting, lasting three and a half hours. It serves as a unique forum for dialogue among scientists, researchers and those affected by long Covid, facilitating the exchange of ideas.

There are many new findings about long Covid. Not all of them are good news. One piece of not-so-good news concerns the fact that long Covid is actually still a problem for those who are newly infected. One estimate that has been put forward is that the risk of contracting long Covid now, even after vaccination, is around 3%. Now you may say, "that's not such a big risk" , but there are tens of thousands of people who are repeatedly affected in a short period of time. And so, the long Covid problem has not yet been solved.

We have also established that there really are many subgroups of long Covid and that we do not yet have a cure. And it was clearly pointed out that we are also dealing with problems here that will challenge society as a whole, because vascular diseases often occur after long Covid. Throughout Europe, we are currently seeing an increased incidence of cardiovascular disease in the middle-age group - from 25 to 50. This is associated with the consequences of Covid infections.

We also very often find cognitive impairment in older people. And one participant pointed out that it may well be like the Spanish flu, where 20 years after the Spanish flu there was a significant increase in Parkinson's disease and probably also dementia.

This is something we must pay attention to, as the past infection afiects how the immune system in the brain functions, as well as the brain's blood vessels, potentially increasing the long-term risk of these major neurodegenerative diseases. This is why we need to conduct very intensive research. This research has played a major role.

What is the overall assessment of the situation now?

We have to be careful. Long Covid is not curable at the moment. We also know that over 40% of those who have several manifestations of long Covid, for example, five or more, still have symptoms after 2 years, so it doesn't seem to heal spontaneously. We also know that those whose symptoms are more pronounced at the beginning are less likely to heal.

So some of what we know from the demographics of long Covid has been confirmed, and we now know more precisely which mechanisms in the brain, but also in the blood vessels and the immune system, are responsible for this. Professor Scheibenbogan will explain this briefly later.

At this point, I can only say the following - this is particularly important to me:

First of all, long Covid is a disease that stays with us and that we cannot yet cure. And we are seeing an increasing number of cases as the waves of infection continue to affect us.

Secondly, Covid is not a cold - with a cold, you don't usually see any long-term effects. You don't see any changes in the blood vessels. You don't usually see an autoimmune disease developing. You also don't usually see neurological inflammation - these are all things that we see with long Covid. Therefore, one should not assume that Covid infection is just a common cold. It can affect brain tissue and the vascular system, and we still lack an effective treatment, making these studies crucial.

Significantly, we know that the risk of long Covid decreases when you're infected but have been vaccinated. That's why it's concerning that only 3 million people have been vaccinated with the new, adapted vaccine. That is a very bad result.

Please protect yourself from severe infections.

Please protect yourself from long Covid.

Currently, the danger posed by Covid is indeed being underestimated. Nothing is worse than infecting someone at Christmas who then becomes seriously ill and may not fully recover."

Alt text is included in all images of this post.

[beloveds-embrace]

(even more designationless!reader…)

The idea had clung to you like a ghost, silent and persistent. A whisper of possibility, a gnawing what if that refused to let go, lurking in the quiet spaces between your thoughts.

It started as an offhanded remark- just a passing suggestion from an Omega medic flipping through your file, his frown deepening at the blank space where a designation should be. He’d leaned in closer, like he was sharing a deep secret even though you’d heard of it before.

“You know, there’s a new procedure. A way to synthesize a scent, balance your hormones. Might help you fit in better.”

At the time, you’d laughed it off, a dry, hollow sound. You were fine. You had learned to live without instincts, without scent cues. You had a pack now- wasn’t that such a wonderful thought? You, of all people, with a pack- and they never made you feel lesser for it.

But still…

Still, you would never stop noticing the way strangers hesitated when they got too close, noses twitching as they tried to find something that wasn’t there. The way some looked at you like you were an anomaly, a hollow space where something vital should be.

The pack never made you feel wrong. But the rest of the world did before and after them.

So, you started actually looking into it. Quietly; and what you found was terrifying.

The procedure wasn’t just some simple injection or pill, wasn’t like the time you got yourself a pheromone perfume. It was invasive- gene therapy, hormone treatments, scent gland augmentation. Synthetic pheromones would be forced into your system, rewriting the very foundation of your body’s chemistry. The risks of rejection and infections were high. The list of potential side effects was even higher- neurological damage, sensory overload, organ stress. Death.

It wasn’t just expensive. It wasn’t just painful. It was dangerous.

And yet, the thought had taken a root far too deep to be simply pulled out.

What would it be like to walk into a room and be known? To have a scent that soothed your pack, something that would mark them the way they marked you with touches and borrowed clothes and lingering words? The pheromone perfume had been temporary, but this- it could be permanent. A cure.

It took weeks before you built up the courage to bring it up to your pack; weeks of staring at catalogues and brochures, google searches all on the costs, the risks, the very, very few who had tried it.

Sitting in the nest one evening, curled between them, you hesitated before you gathered enough courage and spoke. “I found a way to get a scent.”

The reaction was immediate, though you weren’t surprised. They’ve likely heard of the procedure before.

Johnny turned his head sharply from where he had been sprawled beside you, brow furrowing. Kyle, who had been playing absently with your fingers, froze. John, seated at the edge of the nest with a book in his lap, went still. And Simon- Simon growled. A low, rumbling thing that vibrated through your ribs, curling up inside your chest like a warning.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Your throat went dry. “You know about that procedure, right?” your words were careful, hesitant. “It’s… expensive. But it can create a scent for me. A real one.”

Silence. Then-

“No.”

John’s voice was sharp, absolute. Not angry, not yet. But firm in a way that brooked no argument. A command all on its own.

Your stomach twisted, and a deep frown etched itself onto your face. “I just thought-”

“No,” Simon repeated, harsher this time, sitting up straight. His eyes burned into yours, dark and furious. “Who the fuck put that idea in your head?”

You faltered, the hesitant hope in your chest slowly fanning out. “It’s not- I wasn’t—”

“You dinnae need fixing, hen.”

“It’s not about fixing,” you argued, pulse quickening. Why weren’t they giving you a chance to explain? “It’s about- I don’t know, being normal? Being able to-”

“You are normal,” Kyle interrupted, his voice thick, pain threaded around each word. “Christ, love, what made you think you weren’t?”

Frustration bubbled up, clogging your thoughts. “You don’t get it,” you snapped, and the words poured out, raw and aching. “None of you do. You’ve never had to live without it. Never had to wonder if you belonged because you don’t have the one thing that ties you to everyone else!”

John’s exhale was sharp, scrubbing a hand over his face and beard. He looked at you- really looked at you, and his face tensed even further. “And you think putting yourself through hell to force a scent into your system is the answer?”

You hesitated, exposed under their scrutiny, laid bare even in spite of the layers you were wearing.

“You’d risk your life for this?”

“People go through hormone therapy all the time-”

“Not like this,” Kyle shook his head, immediately cutting that line of thought off. “This isn’t just hormone theraph. This is gene-altering shit. You read the side effects, love? The risks?”

You had. And now, under their gazes, the weight of it pressed heavy on your chest.

Ghost shifted closer, holding your arm, face tight. “You’re not doing this.”

“You can’t just tell me what I can and can’t do with my own body!”

Price’s jaw tightened, eyes dark with something unreadable, something heavy. When he finally spoke, it was rough, edged with the kind of steel that only came from deep, unwavering conviction.

“You’re right.”

For a second, your breath caught, because you hadn’t expected him to say that. Did you-?

“We can’t tell you what to do with your body,” he continued, low but firm. “But we can stop you from hurting yourself. I will not allow you to go through that damn procedure.”

The words hit like a fist to the gut.

Simon exhaled sharply, tilting his head like he couldn’t believe you had even considered it. “You’d put yourself through that- all that danger, all that risk- just to what? Smell a little different?”

You swallowed, and then, after a heavy moment, nodded.

Kyle leaned in, wrapping himself around you, protective. “You,” he hissed. “You think some synthetic, lab-made scent could ever be worth you getting hurt?”

Your throat felt tight, and you looked away, only for Johnny to let out a rough, disbelieving laugh. “Jesus, lass. You think we’d ever want some artificial shite over you?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. “I just thought… maybe it would make things easier.” You admitted eventually, voice small and weak, avoiding their eyes. You’d thought… it might even make your family care.

Gaz inhaled sharply, like your words had hurt. “Easier for who?”

The question left you hollow, because you knew the answer.

Not for them.

Never for them.

John sighed, rubbing his temples before reaching out, cupping your cheek with one calloused hand and forcing you to look at him. “Love,” he murmured, and his voice had softened now, rough edges worn down to something gentler, something aching. “We don’t need you to smell like us to know you’re ours. We don’t need a scent to claim you, or to carry your scent.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, touch warm. “You’re already part of this pack.”

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, curling around your ribs, something painful and good all at once.

For so long, you had felt other. Like something was missing. But here, surrounded by them, their warmth pressing into you, their hands grounding you-

You could almost convince yourself you were whole.

Simon let out a slow breath and reached for you, pulling you into his lap with a kind of desperate, hungry care, his arms curling around you like he could somehow shield you from your own thoughts. Johnny pressed against your side, warm and solid, his grip firm where he held onto your wrist. Kyle leaned in, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and Price wrapped an arm around all of you, anchoring you to them.

And you let yourself believe them.

Omegaverse masterlist

[thelazydetectivecat]

okay maybe we're all at fault-

The everlasting trio has been in Gotham for almost 3 months now thanks to scholarships and have been enjoying your time there

Thanks to Sam's parents (who's Sam after telling them got along with very well) funded their stay there and even offered to pay for Danny's and Tucker's parts of scholarships don't cover

They were at a nice neighborhood nearing winter break which means finals week. Unfortunately Jazz wouldn't be able to join them during Tuesday dinner because she was busy studying for a important exam which wasn't a problem as Danny and Tucker as well as Sam were preparing some things for dinner talking about what they should have since during the weekend Sam's parents are coming to visit.

Danny: okay on Tuesday I have a date with this guy called Tim so I'll probably drink coffee and maybe get some dessert on the way back I will pass the grocery store are we planning on having burgers and falafel burgers again or vegan pasta?

Sam: well I was actually hoping for vegan tacos this time

Tucker: I'll just have some chicken. the seasickness from my interview with a company was absolutely horrible. Seriously who tests someone if they can do their work on water on a little boat as well! I still can't eat well...

Sam: oh get a turkey then! Also ingredients for tzatziki last time my parents visited Greece for vacation they ranted about missing the tzatziki there saying amazing the taste was but usually they're on business trips out of the country these days to actually go to a Greek restaurant to get it! Also Tucker could you bring out that essay you were riding I'm pretty sure they will be interested in hearing about it

Danny: I still question how your parents like us after our teenage years of them calling us a bad influences on you or beneath you

Sam: Danny you quite literally took an ancient scripting from my ancestors went all the way to Columbia to decode it brought it back showing evidence and also played bodyguard to my mother during our time choosing colleges here. Not to mention you also created medicine for my father after she got sick on a business trip and helped my mom recreate it.

Sam: Tucker you quite literally helped with a lawsuit by hacking into the other companies database and finding what they needed. You also made a new system for them to use when it comes to their business and made them their own personal Alexa with infinite realms information

Sam: it did not help when they found out about Danny being phantom and Vlad cloning him and that's basically being there to help him in any way we could even if it meant fighting. They took Dani in a heart beat

Tucker: yeah good point but it does make me wonder now what that girl is doing at school right now...

Danny: Okay then so on the way back I'll just get the ingredients for these and... Which one of you got the attention of the bats???

Sam: wait what?!

Tucker: excuse me we what

Danny: yeah I feel their liminality from here and their starring at us... intensely. Ok backtrack did any of us do something suspicious?

Tucker: not really? The library in which I work part-time had a bug and I fixed it anything else that I did... not really I was just studying for the exams.

Sam: I went to a protest about animal rights and then what others we're doing... Volunteered at a soup kitchen... And went to a gala... Wait the gala! I felt something strange as if there was another magic user there maybe it's that?

Danny: him possible... I just hung around with Tim a classmate I have in one of my classes

Sam: did you overshare something?

Danny: no I was just talking about my engineering classes and space

Tucker: so the more likely answer is Sam assuming a magic user let the bats knew was at that gala and panicked and told the bats.

They all nod in agreement

The bats from outside

Nightwing: they don't realize they all did set us off didn't they

Oracle: he got rid of a bug I intentionally planted there for suspicious activity. None of you even noticed that I had a bug there to begin with!

Batman: hm she alarmed Zatanna with death magic and the boy said he sensed our liminality...

Red robin: at least they got that right. The guy doesn't realize he's mad scientist rogue material with the way he keeps talking about advance technology and what he invented

[serpentface]

A pair of Czekl drakes readying at a flower duel.

The one stretching and yawning is dressed in full dueling/dancing attire, which shows off material wealth via fine clothing and feathers while also exposing the sexiest part of his breeding plumage (in this culture it's the head and neck) and his flushed blue skin.

The other is his pair bonded partner, whose drab full body covering and clipped quills establishes that he is not available for reproduction this year, and meets expected modesty standards for a seasonally celibate drake. His presence makes his reproductively available partner more attractive to prospective hens, as it indicates that the celibate drake will have no offspring of his own this year and his full investment will be in his partner's young (and thus that of any hens who choose him).

---

[Key for the typical sex assignments across qilik sexual variation:

Hen: Lays eggs, has duller coloration year-round, largest average body mass.

Drake: Produces sperm, has brighter coloration that molts into very colorful breeding plumage, skin seasonally flushes blue, smaller average body mass.

Faeder: Produces sperm and is usually physically indistinguishable from hens in average size and coloration. Can be anywhere between 1-25% of the sperm producing population.]

---

Qilik species-wide descend from an ancestral mating system in which hens did not form pair bonds with drakes and played no role in raising subadult offspring, and rather would mate with chosen drake(s) and leave their eggs with the most favored suitor. Drakes would form long term pair bonds with other (usually related) drakes and cooperatively brood and raise young together. Faeder would wander through lekking grounds and opportunistically mate with hens (without having to directly compete with drakes) and play no further role in hatching/rearing their offspring.

They have brief windows of seasonal fertility triggered by the springtime increase of daylight hours (with some equatorial populations having their cycles triggered by seasonal rains instead). Most drakes experience a significant surge of testosterone which causes their springtime molt producing very bright new feathers and their skin to flush blue (if they are well-nourished).

Modern qilik have full behavioral plasticity that subjects this baseline mating system to tremendous cultural variation. There are some broad commonalities- drakes perform the majority of child rearing across most cultures, forms of drake sexual display (whether directly involved in reproduction or not) are nearly ubiquitous in the form of various cultural practices (dances, songs, mock or real combat, etc), and seasonal fertility is a purely biological trait and a universal.

The nomadic culture and heavily dispersed population of the Czekl people means reproductive arrangements are rarely made in advance. Rather, regional populations assemble in established locations during mid spring for a month-long event where the usually separated hen/faeder clans and drake clans can mingle. This is a time for trade, for drake parents to find suitable clans for any of their young adult hen/faeder children, and for individuals looking to reproduce to find a suitable (and highly temporary) partner.

In this culture, hens usually play no direct part whatsoever in their children's lives and may very well never see them hatched. Hens are believed to be the mechanism that supplies spiritual ancestral guardianship to their young, but their material responsibility begins and ends with finding a drake who can show himself to be strong, handsome, healthy, tied to a good clan, and economically secure enough to take good care of their offspring. This process is sometimes accomplished with simple meeting and talking, but the flashiest ways for drakes to advertise themselves is the flower duel.

This is a combination of a dance and a fight, in which available drakes congregate on a dueling ground, match up against the best looking rival they can find, and attempt to pin them to the ground while also dancing to chanted music and showing off their finest clothing and sexy feathers. Hens will watch these proceedings (usually aided by other members of their clan), and can approach anyone that catches their eye after the fact to converse and ensure that they have found a good father for their children. This also functionally provides a mechanism for drakes who do not have a pair-bonded male partner to attract a co-parent, and this culture's equivalents of romance stories lavish attention to narratives of flower duel rivals becoming enamored in the process of their mock battle.

Czekl culture places very little expectation on even temporary fidelity, and hens will often mate with multiple drakes per season and only provide their single egg (often of indeterminate siring) to the one they deem best. It's up to an individual drake to not only prove that he's extremely sexy and excellent father material, but that he can be good company for the week or so between the first (of usually many) acts of breeding and his reproductive partner(s) laying their eggs. While hens and drakes rarely form any sort of permanent bond in this culture (and aren't likely to see each other whatsoever for the rest of the year), these temporary friendships can be meaningful and enjoyable. There's plenty of things to do at this gathering besides just showing off and fucking, and temporary mates that actually hit it off will often bring their respective clans together to socialize and trade.

---

The modesty standards of qilik cultures trend towards regulating attire of drakes more intensely than hens/faeder, especially when in breeding plumage and skin condition. Czekl society has fairly limited modesty standards, with the cloaca being the only part of the body expected to remain publicly covered in most contexts regardless of gender. The only major exception is that drakes who are choosing to remain celibate for the breeding season (or who have secured as many partners as they can handle) are expected to demonstrate this with full body covering. The exposure of seasonally blue tinted skin and breeding plumage is treated as an advertisement of full sexual availability, and uncovered drakes who refuse any mating are often subject to aggression and treatment as sexually deviant.

Czekl drake pairs typically take turns playing the reproductive role, hence the routine presence of seasonally celibate males at this event. A drake being able to display that he not only has a bonded partner but one who will remain nonreproductive for this season increases his chances of reproductive hookups. It tends to be assumed that partnered drakes will disproportionately invest in their own offspring, so having sex with a drake who has a celibate male partner is seen by most hens as guaranteeing a better future for the one and only egg they can lay each year.

This perception is a cultural bias rather than a response to behavioral drives, as partnered drakes do not actually show instinctive preference for their own young over that of their pair-bonded partner's. The evolutionary background for this is rooted in pre-behaviorally modern qilik male partners very frequently being biological brothers, and thus reaping selective benefits in mutual care for their related young. This is not as ubiquitously the case for behaviorally modern qilik, though incest taboos are rarely applied to bonded drake relationships. In the Czekl sphere, up to a quarter of these nonreproductive pair bonds are between male siblings.

It is exceptionally rare for qilik cultures to form taboos surrounding homosexual behavior between drakes, and when extent they tend to regulate actual sex acts rather than the forming of these pair bonds in of themselves. Less rare is acceptance of drake celibacy (outside of various religious contexts that dictate it), referring to complete/attemptedly lifelong abstinence from mating with hens. Czekl (and most central plains qilik groups) do not police the sexuality of drakes as aggressively as more intensely hen-matriarchal cultures do, but it’s still an expectation that all drakes will participate in bringing offspring to their clans over the course of their lives. Those who remain Serially (rather than seasonally) celibate are often subject to discrimination and sometimes even ousting from their own clans. The clan is the central unit of Czekl society and drake clans (treated as bloodlines) are sustained by their members providing offspring, so choosing never to do so is treated as imperilment of a clan's future.

Czekl drakes forming permanent pair bonds with hens is considered unnatural and deviant (though not aggressively policed, and very rare in practice), and forming these with faeder is HIGHLY stigmatized (faeder themselves are treated as barren hens in spite of their actual fertility, and are discouraged both from mating with hens and from forming bonds with drakes/joining drake clans). The practice of seasonally celibate drakes appearing in this public setting with full body covering has (culturally unintentional) functions in enabling these stigmatized drake/faeder pair bonds to fly under the radar (by giving an avenue for a faeder to hide her dull coloration and therefore sex assignment, under the guise of being a celibate drake), and allowing them to obtain offspring for themselves.

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 16TH CLUELESS ━━ megumi fushiguro + step-cest !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. megumi fushiguro + step-cest. are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you? (7.6K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, enemies to lovers (?), step-cest, photos, videos, fingering, choking, praise kink, panty sniffing, body worship, riding stuffed animals, daddy kink, soft sex, unprotected sex, bimbo-ish + fem!reader, step-brother!megumi fushiguro.

୨୧ — director’s note. lets gooo another kinktober installment! i actually haven't written for megumi in ages and this is kinda long so...i hope this is okay? sorry this is late btw, please enjoy! <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

let’s get one thing straight. 

not all daddy’s girls are dumb.

on the contrary, you’re actually highly intelligent and thoroughly educated — graduating at the top of every single one of your classes in high school, despite negotiating a fair portion of your grades with your teachers. after school, however, you couldn’t quite figure out what you wanted to do and everyone else you knew spent their time growing up around you. daddy wanted you to go to college, get your degree so you could find your footing in the world…he would even pay for it too.

but like every other twenty-something year old girl your age, you were completely and utterly clueless about the direction you wanted to take.

perhaps that was the reason as to why your step-brother, megumi, annoyed you so much. indoctrinated into your family unit of two (yourself and your father, of course) — megumi had joined you to play happily-family when his mother married your father. their fast-paced union didn’t last long, however, for your parents were quickly divorced by the new year…and apparently, you can only divorce people. not children. meaning that your older step sibling had decided he would much rather stick around for the long haul.

it could even be said that megumi fushiguro was an even bigger daddy’s boy (or kiss ass) than you were a daddy’s girl. he went to college on daddy’s money, ate on daddy’s money and got jobs using daddy’s money and power. now, he’s some big time hot shot at an environmental law firm and it irks you just how much your father is pushing for you to be just like megumi. in everybody’s eyes, your step brother was the picture perfect child, an example to follow, a fine gem.

and since your father liked that so much; likes how responsible and diligent megumi is — it would explain why your older step-brother could get away with sneaking up on you in your own house (favourite child privileges). “what are you all dressed up for?” the husky lilt to his deep voice sends shockwaves through your system and a shiver down your spine, making you jump away from the fridge you’re rummaging through.

“a party.” you say frigidly. the dark haired male makes a face and you roll your eyes at him in a disapproving manner. as if megumi was in any position to judge you for your plans and late night endeavours. he was a boring old college student clinging to his younger step sister whilst you were doing society a favour and helping your friend get together with the guy she liked. 

it’s what you do! helping the less fortunate instead of studying for some boring piece of paper and graduate degree. 

you were such a good person. 

turning away from the cool air and dull hum of the fridge freezer, you tuck a few juices to be used as mixers for the party into your bag — ignoring the heaviness of your step brother’s admiral blue gaze as it slips over the curve of your waist, the expanse of your thighs and the bounce of your chest peeking out from your skimpy little get up. it’s funny, how you’ve never liked the way boys have looked at you in the past — but something about the way he drinks you in as if you’re the last glass of water on the plant makes your legs shaky and your breath turn short and…

“can i come?” 

with his lips pressed into a thin line and his emotions hidden behind the perfect mask of his perfect face — megumi slams the fridge door shut, to make you squeak again. his brows raising expectantly while he waits for your answer. “a-as if fushiguro.” you huff in annoyance, jabbing the older step-sibling in his shoulder as he towers over you. “aren’t you too old for house parties? i wouldn’t want you to cramp my style.” 

“i’m not that much older than you.” he laughs, it’s melodious sound sending a warmth through your body.

rolling your eyes, you snap back. “you’re old enough.” 

you make yourself small as you pass by him, attempting to escape his suffocating presence. he makes you feel weird, and you don’t exactly hate it — sure megumi is annoying, snarky and a little mean but he’s… attractive, like next level attractive. he’s got those dreamy sea-storm eyes that make you feel as though you’ll die and go to heaven, a sexy smirk that gets you hot and bothered even if it’s not directed at you. all of your friends have had crushes on your step brother at some point, ones that cause jealousy to brim just under the surface of your skin, pricking you like a thousand tiny needles. your jealousy totally doesn’t have anything to do with you trying to hook your friend up tonight by the way (lying to yourself makes you feel better).

however, feeling this way about megumi is wrong, nowhere near normal. anybody could have told you that — it’s just that your family relationships make things complicated and you don’t want to make this weird between you both. you’d never admit it, but you do enjoy the back and forth sibling-like banter the two of you have. would ruining that be worth it? even if your step-brother was like…everything you’d ever wanted in a guy; not like those snot-nosed, unhygienic, monkey-brained losers you used to go to school with. 

instead, megumi was smart, established and with his future practically set in stone. maybe that’s why you picked on him, why you acted like a spoiled brat whenever he was around, why you pretended to despise his every existence and wish he’d never become a part of your family. because megumi  constantly reminds you of your failures or what your future could be if you put your mind to it and actually tried. 

“maybe, college guys like me wouldn’t seem like such losers if you actually gave furthering your education a shot,” your step brother cuts through your thoughts, stalking behind you with his hands in his pockets as you leave the kitchen and head towards the foyer — getting ready to head out for the party. “just do what your daddy wants, angel. go to college, get your degree so he can get off my back and you can be smart like me. yeah?” 

“and why would i listen to you?” there’s nothing you can do to shake him — your older step brother tailing you as if he’s your own personal guardian. he stops walking when you stop walking, bumping into your back, while a shocked whimper lays flat on the seam on your lips. 

megumi passes you a jacket (which you slide on by yourself) whilst he chuckles again, the sound rumbling in his chest and through your body pressed hotly against his. “‘cause i’m your big brother.” his voice is almost scolding, playfully so, holding a darker tone that you almost recognise as lust whole his larger-than yours hands force their way down to the fat at your waist. “now c’mere, let me fix your outfit. can’t have you goin’ out like this…” megumi squeezes your hips, using his grip on them to spin you around so that you can face him. 

you expect him to tell you to cover up more — that your pretty white dress is too short and that you’re too promiscuous. what you don’t  expect is for the dark haired male to sink to his knees before you, soft and attentive fingers sliding up your inner leg to fix your thigh-highs as that have slipped down. you barely manage to choke back a needy moan. 

he doesn’t let up on the eye contact either; only serving to fog up your pretty little head. “s-step brother,” you manage to remind him gently, finding your voice. 

fushiguro rolls his eyes, poking his tongue into his cheek. “that was your take away, pretty girl?” he doesn’t stop touching you, going as far to peek his head up your skirt — pretending to finish fixing your socks despite the subtle press of his nose against your panties and pinging them against your backside once done fondling you. “there we go, better.” 

he even goes as far to pat your bum in accomplishment too. 

you feel pathetic for letting your step brother touch you in such a taboo way, failing to push megumi off. but he’s never been so bold and you’ve never wanted him more — craving megumi through an insatiable burning in your chest. there’s always been a sexual tension brewing between you both, fuelled by your banter, your rage and mischievousness but how could you act on it? 

megumi was practically family. your family. it would be weird. you couldn’t be anything more without crossing the line of what’s deemed acceptable and what isn’t for step siblings. you have to remember who he is to you, an older brother, a menace to your friends who crush on him and someone who had called you selfish once upon a time. 

finally snapping back to reality, you force yourself away from the tendrils of your step-brother’s grip — swiping your purse from the entryway table and storming towards the door. “you’re buggin’ gumi!” you squeak from the porch. “stop being weird a-and stay out of my room!”  

the door slams harshly as you vacate the property in favour of the party, practically running down the steps with a rapid shake of your head. doing anything you can to rid yourself of all thoughts concerning the enigma that is your older step brother.

the party doesn’t help, and instead ends up a total disaster.

your plan to set your friends up completely falls apart when your ex-best guy friend decides to make a move on you on the way home and drops you off in the middle of nowhere after rejecting him. to top it off, some asshole robs you for your fendi purse at a gas station and makes you lie down on the ground in your matching designer dress! 

the whole ordeal nearly reduces you to tears and forces you to call the one person you’d been trying to forget about all night. megumi. 

he picks you up without a word of protest, but you swear that you can feel his disappointment radiating off of him in thick, asphyxiating waves. “please don’t tell daddy,” you had sniffed, eyes big and teary. and megumi can’t bring himself to blame you or to be mad at you because you’re so sweet and sensitive and a little too good for this world. that and you have no idea how much seeing you cry fucks with his head. 

“you’re a smart girl, baby.” he’d replied softly — though his eyes were hard and his grip on the steering wheel even harder, indicated by the white of his knuckles. “you shouldn’t be messing around in places like this. it’s exactly why you should be in college.” 

like the good big (step) brother he is, fushiguro sneaks you back into the house without a word to your watchful father. instead, he spends the rest of the night comforting you with silly cartoons to heal your inner child. deep down, it means a lot — usually the two of you would argue over control of the remote, and he would always win. this time, megumi lets you be. 

“i don’t think i’m cut out for college,” you sigh after a moment’s silence, ren and stimpy providing the backing track to your vocalised thoughts. “‘m not much aside from my pretty face.” 

fushiguro rolls over so that you lay side by side, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “what would you do instead?” 

“i dunno,” growing bashful, you tuck your face into your shoulder — afraid that he might laugh. “start a fashion business, give people make overs? i think i’m good at that.” 

“you’re good at a lot of things, angel. and making people feel god about themselves is one of them,” rather than belittling your dreams, tearing them down like you’d expect — megumi encourages you, flashing you a small yet supportive smile. “you take care of people.” 

flustered by his praise, you lean into megumi’s side — playing footsie with him at the end of your bed shyly. “you’re better at taking care of me, though.” you whisper, nearly missing the way his eyes drop to your lip-gloss smudged lips. 

“yeah? s’what big brothers are for, right?” he whispers back, a breath’s width away from your lips, nose inches away from nudging yours as if he’s going to kiss you. he wouldn’t be your step-brother if he wasn’t so full of annoying surprises, instead of pulling you into a lip lock — megumi grasps at the remote on your other side in an attempt to change the channel to something more boring and scholarly. 

you protest in the form of a sibling play fight causing you both to roll around in the sheets — fighting for the remote or perhaps dominance over the sexual tension that thickens the air. heat rises throughout the room and your wrestling turns to megumi pinning you to your babyish pink sheets, straddling your waist. he grips your wrists, clasping them together between his large, veiny hands and forces them above your head.

everything happens so quickly, yet so slowly and all at once. one moment you’re fighting like siblings do and the next — megumi fushiguro is finally kissing you, tongue lapping at the crack between your parted lips from where you’ve gasped in shock. tasting every ounce and every essence of the remainder of your gloss, breathing weightily into your mouth as if it’s a relief to have it pressed against his own. you swallow everything he gives you and drink up his saliva as it pools into your mouth to the point where your head spins and you feel like he’s spiked you with arousal. 

this is wrong, on so many levels. as if you would ever make out with your step brother. but this isn’t some kind of twisted dream, it’s a reality you find yourself basking in. you pull megumi onto you by the roots of his dark hair, mewling each time your lips slot together perfectly and whining when his hips start to jut down to meet the softness of your tummy. or when his large hands push and pull at sensitive parts of your body. 

“you’re nothin’ like those college girls.” he tells you once you break apart for air. megumi’s nose nudges your cheek and his kisses dive lower into the crook of your neck while he waits for you to catch your breath. “you’re softer, prettier, you’re—“

he lets go of your wrists.

tilting your head back into your plush pillows, your shaky fingers tangle in the dark, unruly curls of your step brother’s baby hairs. “i’m what?” you tease through a series of pretty little moans, like music to megumi’s ears. you feel him twitch against your inner thigh and the temperature of his body spikes to a sweltering degree. 

“perfect.” his rough tongue swipes over your prominent collarbones and over the fabric of your dress, slipping under the crevice where your breasts meets your rib cage. using his teeth, fushiguro pulls down your dress until it inches off of your shoulders, revealing more of your skin marked with scars, beauty and stretch marks. it comes off easily, exposing you to a pair of hungry, murky blue eyes. the dress remains bunched at your middle.

you must be tripping out — you’ve never seen this look in your step brother’s eyes before. he stares up at you, lips swollen and breath ragged, as if you’re the last meal on earth he’ll ever get to taste. the sexual tension was never obvious to you, and while you’ve always found megumi weird — it didn’t mean you disliked his company. 

“quit staring,” you whine, arching your back into megumi’s touch as it drags across your searing flesh. “it’s weird…you’re making it seem like it’s a bad thing…” 

he yanks down the front of your dress, smooths down the valley between your breasts and over your tummy as they rise and fall with each of your baited breaths. “you don’t like it when i look at you, pretty baby?” then suddenly, his thumb slips back over your naked nipple, curling your sensitive areola before applying a gentle pressure that makes you jolt up the bed. “there’s nothin’ bad about you.” 

fushiguro’s grip runs down to your sides like an easy stream of water, grasping at any flesh he can while simultaneously pulling your hips up to meet his — slotting perfectly against your body to make sure you can feel how hard he is for you. “i’m not like those college girls you’re usually into…” comes your shaky whisper. “‘m too dumb.”

it’s weird, megumi’s never made you nervous until now. 

“no. you’re smart, you’re perfect… you deserve more than the guys that you’re into. you shouldn’t waste your time.” 

his steady hands slide over the curve of your ass, dip beneath the hem of your dress to play with your doughy thighs and every note of his praise is sung over your quivering body.

“so what?” you go on, stepping into the dark to explore whatever the fuck this is with your step brother. “i should waste it on college boys like you?” 

the tail end of your words are lost in a gasped breath as megumi nudges a knuckle against the crotch of your underwear — chuckling softly at the wetness that pools in the seat of them. “you would be if you came with me.” a sort of sick and twisted expression, morphs on his handsome face. one that’s usually so stoic and unreactive to your whines and mewls. but this version of megumi seems to like watching you squirm, revels in the way your hips buck up on instinct the further he presses his fingers between your sticky, viscous folds. “god, sweetheart. your princess parts are already so wet for me.” 

heat flashes across your face, accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you for megumi you feel buzzing beneath your skin and swirling with the blood in your veins. the way he coos down at you, eyes hooded and tone condescending — it only serves to cloud your judgement and your mind. you shouldn’t be doing this. but you want to. so badly. 

“shut up.” you huff and look away, eyes threatening to roll back into your skull as megumi flicks at your clit from over your skimpy panties. the more he plays with you, rubs at his little sister’s cute pussy, the more your thighs twitch apart — revealing the treasure between them to his dirty-minded gaze. 

the groan that follows vibrates around in the cavity of megumi’s chest before shooting down to your glistening core as it convulses under his fingertips. “you’ll miss me when i go back, don’t deny it.” he tells you like he knows you, voice horse with growing desire. “you should really come with.” 

you scrunch your nose up at his request — of course he would choose now of all times to be annoying and tease you about college. “as if, megumi.” you warn, though it’s hard to stay mad at him when he presses two fingers against your spasming entrance, azure eyes darkening at a stream of your arousal dampens your panties — defining the shape of your puffy folds even more. 

“yeah, yeah. i know, baby. not the time, huh?” megumi hums in amusement, gaze flickering up to your face to watch it twist with euphoria as he continues to pinch and rub at your cunt until your chest is heaving. “you want it that bad. wanna be touched so bad. pretty girls like you can’t do anything without their big brothers...” while he rambles over the drool replacing logical words on his tongue, your step brother pulls his hand away from your sex briefly to push past the lace scalloping on your underwear and access your wetness. “all this, ‘cause of me?” 

“all ‘cause of you.” you breathe the words out like they’re air and nod shyly at your own admission despite the high pitched, babyish tone. to let your stupid older step brother know how much he affects you is embarrassing, borderline humiliating, but you can’t help but fall into him. megumi rewards you with two fingers stroking their way past the tight ring of your entrance, curling instantly to explore your gummy, oozing walls and locate the exact spots that make you tick.

he presses a chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek, body hunched over your shaky one as if to shield the scandalous sight from the world. his little sister split open on his fingers, drenching him in her scent and her slick as fushiguro scissors them and fucks you silly. “mhm, that’s my girl. so nice for me and my fingers. i like you better this way,” he slurs, long and dark lashes (ones that you’d die for) fluttering against your skin as his digits move faster and faster within your selfish, ribbed walls. “when all you can do is cry and make those pretty noises, instead of being a little brat to me all the time.” 

fushiguro pauses his ministrations, forcing you to wriggle and writhe and chase your pleasure for only a moment. “m-megumi!” your hips jut upwards in an attempt to coax some friction out of him, anything on your pulsing clit or against your pleasure spots dotted along your insides. “p-please. fuck, gumi— i need it.” 

he only smiles, his thumb finding your clit and his fingers pick up the pace — bearing down on your g-spot with every thrust into your tight heat. “that’s what i like to hear, none of that back talk. just your pretty voice, beggin’ for me.” he sweet talks you over the dirty, lewd and squishy sounds from your thoroughly fucked cunt as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form a chorus with your hiccups and pathetic bleats for more — and if your body is a choir, megumi fushiguro is the conductor. he guides you to the gates of heaven, feeds you pieces of pleasure from the grapevine of sun and you let him. 

because he’s your big (step) brother, and you trust him after all. 

“fuck, you’re so pretty. could watch you make a mess of me all night.” 

the bricks bliss build up in your lower tummy, cemented together by megumi’s relentless fingers pumping in and out of your slick sex. you’re the perfect vision, a sight to behold — darling gem eyes shiny with tears, tongue tied to the roof of your mouth by strings of saliva and your body doused with a glimmer of perspiration. your step brother can’t help but create a copy of you grinding against his hand on his mind. filing it away for later. 

pulling his fingers from your selfish heat, megumi brings his hand down against it in a harsh slap — his entire body shuddering at the surprised wail you let out, and the stream of juices that fly up his arm as a result. “ooh, baby. what a pretty noise you just made.” he laments with a rough voice, soothing over the spank with soft flicks to your swollen clit. “can you do that again for me?” 

he doesn’t give you the chance to answer, spanking your pussy again, and again and again until his head is heavy with the sounds of your broken moans and your panties are soaked all the way through — darkened by the running two of your sweet honey nectar that allow his slender fingers to slip back inside you with ease. 

they tease at your stimulated walls and push and pull your tight little hole — and you swear you can practically see the stars that line the night sky with every new sensation. fushiguro is in no better state, cock painstakingly hard and straining against the insides of his sweats while his cool midnight eyes drink in the way your hips stutter and struggle to keep up with the pace of his digits inside of you. 

“‘gumi… i think i—“ your words escape you, drowned out by your own pussy as it squelches around megumi’s fingers. 

he kisses your forehead, contrasting my soft compared to the way he stretches you open and preps you for his cock. “i bet that feets good, huh? you feel like you’re gonna cum.” his tone turns into a mocking one, deep enough to send shivers down your spine and threaten to knock down the wall of mounting pleasure in your lower gut.

tears teeter over the edge of your waterline, streaking a hot path down the apples of your angelic cheeks as your hips lift off the bed — chasing the high only your big brother could give to you. “feels so good, p-please let me cum, ‘gumi.” 

you look to him for reassurance and permission, hiccuping as megumi pulls his fingers out of you to trace from your clit and down the length of your juicy slit. pride swirls in his blazing chest when your body jerks at the sensation, hips running after the source of pleasure. you’re such a good little thing, so pliant and naive — following after your step brother no matter what he does to you. maybe you’re right, maybe you’re a little too dumb for college. but it doesn’t matter right now, not with the way your creamy entrance clenched down on fushiguro lovingly, pleading with him to let you cum.

you’re so close and he knows it, he’d have given into you if he weren’t trying to make this last. 

“actually, i want you to do something for me.” he stops right before you’re about to burst, dragging his fingers out of your pulsating pussy to smear your wetness across your tummy and thighs. 

a babyish blubber bubbles up on the swell of your pouty lips, coated in a layer of salt from your free-flowing tears. “w-what? m-megumi! i was so close!” you say in a petulant manner, squishing your thigh together and trapping his hand between them as if to coax him back into making you cum.

“so spoilt, more like.” your step brother bites back, almost punishing you by removing his body from yours so that he can rid himself off all of his clothes. he tosses them off the bed, but not before pulling his phone from his sweatpants and setting it to the side.

you swallow thickly when his cock springs free and slaps against his washboard abs. megumi is lengthier than he has girth, his balls heavy with an incredulous amount of seed saved up just for you. his tip is pink, almost bright red but coated in a layer of pre that’s no doubtedly smeared along the inside of his sweats but it’s a delicious sight to see nonetheless. 

now you really must be bugging. you’re most certainly clueless to have never thought of megumi this way before today. 

your throat bobs when he grabs hold of his rock hard shaft, hissing at the first few lazy pumps he gives himself.  “i want you to do something for me. then i’ll make you cum.” fushiguro proposes gruffly, locking eyes with you carnally. “put on a show for me princess, ride one of your cute little stuffed animals over there so i can make a memory for when i go back to college.” 

his ask doesn’t register in your pretty little head, and megumi figures he might have left you dazed from withholding your orgasm. or maybe you’re distracted by the way in which he fists his cock, spreading webs of milky white up and down his shaft and over his mushroomed tip with each movement. you hardly notice the fact that he’s reached for his phone, setting it to record using his free hand. 

“you hear me, pretty… fuck…girl?” he curses in a low moan, squeezing himself. 

this time, your attention shoots to his face while your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “y-you want me to… fuck my stuffie?” 

you ask megumi so innocently, head tilted to the side like a sweet little puppy dog and he swears he might bust to you right then and there. 

“fuck…yes.” 

“and you won’t touch me?” 

“not until i’m satisfied, princess.” 

and like the bratty little sister you are, dress pushed down to your middle and makeup askew, you huff at your step-brother — all while grabbing your favourite and biggest stuffed bear to tuck against the ruined treasure between your thighs. 

“you’re so fuckin’ mean, ‘gumi,” you try to keep your cool, but you’re too sensitive — lowering your twitching sex onto the soft toy slowly. “o-oh…”

he angles the camera perfectly to record you, zooming in on your cute little cunt as it slips and slides over the bear with ease.

even beyond the camera, you’re a sight for megumi fushiguro’s sore eyes, each of your curves and dips illuminated by the glistening beads of sweat that roll over the expanse of your skin – catching the low, warm yellow light from up above. he always knew that his little step sister was pretty, practically an angel, but up until now he’d relied soley on his dirty imagination to picture the way you’d look fucking yourself for him. the stuffed toy easily disappears between the meat of your pudgy thighs as you rock back and forth over it, nudging your clit against the nose of the fluffy brown bear.

“feels good, right?” he mumbles lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. megumi can’t help but be engrossed in your every move, the soft jut of your hips and the bite down on your plump and shiny lips, the way in which your fingers dare to dance up the salacious softness to your curves and skin. “my pretty little thing. i can see why your daddy loves you so much. you’re such a good girl, listening to everything i say.”

megumi’s words waft over your mind like a thick fog of lust, darkening every pure thought you’ve ever had. your whole body twitches at their patronising air, dopamine crackling about in your skull and shooting down to the heartbeat swirling around your fluttering hole. it gushes and gushes, like an endless stream of erotica and glazes over the apex of your thighs like the shin of a sugary treat.

one that makes your step brother’s mouth water with anticipation.

each of your sweet mewls and whistle-tone bleats run through his ears like thick honey, rotting him from the inside out. perhaps that’s what makes megumi so perverted and what makes him crush on his perfect and prim little sister, you’re a fool to have not noticed it before. how he looked at you then and how megumi looks at you now, midnight blue and stormy orbs drowning with lust. your gaze flutters down to his cock, standing tall and flushed against his creamy white skin, neglected as it leaks all over his stomach.

“oh you like that, huh? you shake so much when i talk to you like that.” fushiguro starts to fist his cock faster, matching the speed at which you shakily circle your hips over the poor stuffed animal — panting as it’s fabric darkens with your wetness. “a daddy’s girl through ‘n through.” he teases while you throw it back for his phone.

sure enough, the camera picks up his warm chocolate voice as it coos its praises to you. such a good girl. ride it out princess. all of it fills you to the brim with wanton and desire, makes you crumble before the glaring lense of fushiguro’s phone.

“s-shut up.” 

“uh-uh. and you were doing so well,” your step brother sounds almost cruel, reminding you of the reasons you didn’t get along before today. acting like a school boy picking on his crush, being mean to her because deep down he knows that she likes it. that you like it. “don’t be rude baby. put on a show for ‘gumi.” 

he takes to palming himself more, precum slinging across his knuckles and down his thighs the more turned on he gets. it clings to every vein on his shaft, spreads to the weight of his balls and no doubt can be heard through the camera since slick and lewd noises of the both of you touching yourselves echo throughout your bedroom. megumi does his best to keep the camera steady, but he can’t help himself — following your movements and thrusting up into his closed fist to mock your pussy while you ride your stuffie for dear life.

you’re still so sensitive, but your big brother can tell you’re trying so hard to keep up for him — fighting off your next orgasm as it builds up strong in your lower belly. you want to please megumi, at the end of the day. a smart girl like you knows  “that’s it, keep it movin’ for me…god, you make me wanna cum.” 

you pout at the praise, rutting over the face of your stuffed animal as you breath heavy. it feels way too good, you’re overwhelmed by too many senses and megumi watching you spill your juices about the place doesn’t seem to help. dragging a hand up to your bare chest, you tweak your nipples and tug them until  a needy squeal dancing on your wobbly bottom lip — doing your very best to please the dark haired college student.

you want him to cum, want him to memorise the way your eyes roll back and your moans and quivers — you feel so beautiful beneath his heavy, desire burdened stare. “m-megumi,” you say for the millionth time that night, squirming before his very eyes while you dream on the nose of your precious toy. “i-i’m close!” your hips burn holding back you release, exhaustion and just intertwining in your veins — combusting in your lungs. 

clueless. you were absolutely clueless as to how it would feel falling apart under the caring gaze of someone who loves you so much. 

“yeah, pretty girl?” fushiguro hums gently, giving his cock one last squeeze at the base — cutting off the stream of ore that he dribbles from the source. “c’mere, i gotcha.” he shuffles over to you on the bed, catching you before you fall with his lips pressed to your wet babyish cheeks. “i’ll let you cum, but only on my cock. you’ve got to stay good for me, okay?” 

nodding timidly, you accept a few more kisses from megumi — the ones that he peppers across your face, before he manoeuvres you onto your side and nestles in right behind you. “say you want me,” the words coast along the back of your neck and your body erupts in goosebumps. his voice will always be like a dragon breathing life into a fire. sure to be careful, megumi lifts one of your thighs and hooks it over his slender waist so that he can better access your sluice sex.

he tugs your underwear to the side with one hand and positions his cock at your entrance, sliding the length of his shaft through the strings of your arousal glueing your pussy lips together. both of you hiss in harmony when his bright red tip grinds messily against your pulsing pleasure bud. your unused hole clenches around nothing, pushing out juices as if to claim megumi. 

your head rolls back to rest on megumi’s broad shoulder and you reach a hand behind you to tangle in the dark mass of his sweaty locks — keeping him close. “i need you, ‘gumi. please.” you rasp weakly as his shaft breaches your silken walls, coating him in everything your body has to offer. you spoil megumi, giving him a moment to remember before he leaves for college again.

there’s a delicious residual burn from the way his girth stretches you out causing your cunt so selfishly squeezes down on every inch of your step brother’s milky cock. with a stuttered breath, fushiguro bottoms out until his balls are pressed hotly against your ass and his seedy mushroomed tip is just grazing your womb. 

“just what i wanted to hear,” he purrs into the shell of your ear — nipping it tenderly. you blubber softly into the satin pillows, prepped with a fresh set of tears as you push back onto megumi to meet the push and pull of his dick into your tight, creamy sex. “you’ve always needed me, pretty thing. my precious baby sister, relyin’ on me for everything. even this.”

your entire body burns bright with desire for megumi, you’re surprised you’ve gone this long without him before today. maybe you’ve always needed to feel his sticky tip grind against your juicy walls or his hot breath fanning against your shoulders and neck. you’ve always needed your step brother to guide you in the right direction. you’ve always needed megumi.

“f-fuck, g-gumi!” 

fushiguro fucks you slow and softly, pouring all of his affections into you — letting it buzz in the sex scented air between your salt slicked bodies. his fingertips leave their paw prints along your tiger striped thighs and soft tummy, he’ll kiss them better later, but for now he just wants you to know how much he’s always needed you.  “oh i know pretty girl, i know.” comes megumi’s low, bristling simper — adding to the stacks of pleasure cementing together in your lower tummy. “you’re so good, taking me just right. i’ve always known you’d be good for me.” 

your back arches away from the molten centre of your step brother’s chest but he refuses to let you run from him — wrapping a strong arm around your middle to anchor you and your pussy down on his throbbing cock. “i never wanted to ruin you.” he drawls hungrily, but that doesn’t stop the salacious buck of his hips upwards and the way his hands traverse over each of your perfect imperfections. “but you’re such a sweet thing… you always have been. god, baby, you drive me crazy.” 

fumbling around on the bed, megumi gasps at the phone and hits record once more — propping the device up on the nightstand opposite you so that he can remain hands free. “this body, this princess cunt… the way you grip my hair—“ as if on cue, your fingers tighten at his dark roots and tug him down for a sloppy, spit swapping kiss. “everything about you, s’perfect.” 

the room spins with ecstasy and your pathetic screams die in your throat at the feeling of megumi’s abs contacting against your back, his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you over and over again. you drip sweet nectar onto the sheets, his pelvis and his thighs — tainting him with your precious sin. everything burns with exertion and exhaustion, so you’re forced to slump against your big brother and rely on him to carry you to the high heavens of pleasure.

he doesn’t disappoint, cupping your swaying breasts as you jolt up the bed from the force of his pounding thrusts, flicking at your nipples while keeping himself tucked in your squishy insides. you’re pleasured from every possible angle and it’s all caught on grainy film for megumi to take to college when he leaves without you. 

“‘m so fucking happy… t-that our parents got divorced. s-so that i can…have you like this.” fushiguro tongues at the pulse point under your ear, giving you one hard thrust to emphasise the point, it makes you jump, pushing you that little bit closer to the edge. your step brother never stops pumping himself in and out of you, hardly giving you a second to breathe between sucking on your tongue and slapping a hand down on your slit. 

“aren’t you happy?” he goes on to ask, carving the shape of his dick into your raw sex. “take a deep breath for me, gorgeous.” 

megumi wraps a hand around your throat from behind, squeezing ever so slightly and your glistening doe eyes tear away from the camera to focus on him. you witness the stars align in his azure orbs, the adoration they hold for you and a cry-baby wail slips from between your cherry bitten lips in response. 

“look so pretty with my hand around your throat ‘n my cock in your pussy… look at that. it’s like your body was made for me.” he chimes up again, watching the drool deep from the corner of your mouth as it hangs open with dry moans, like a a cute puppy panting. “how lucky are we?”

“o-oh! gumi!” you sniff blearily, not caring that there isn’t enough air in your brain to think straight. you’re swallowing down his cock and he’s leaking fat droplets of precum against the ridges of your walls — only adding to your wetness. megumi can’t expect a single logical thought to escape you this way. “‘m s-so glad. s-so lucky! so happy! i-i love you.”

the stuttered admission brings out the worst in megumi, causing him to lose his shit. your panties are rubbing his shaft raw, your pussy’s so good that he feels like he’s fucking high, not to mention you sound so pretty he could die here and be the happiest man alive. a feral desire takes over your step brother, his snapping his hips into you so hard that your headboard repeatedly smashes against the wall.

your panties are completely soaked through at this point, equally as ruined as your cunt… but megumi doesn’t care. “love you too. my good girl, my good fucking girl.” he coos, his thrusts growing animalistic and erratic — your bodies dancing to the tune of desire as you chase release. “can you cum for me, pretty? wanna see it, bet you’re so gorgeous when you’re cumming for me little sis.” 

despite being fucked brainless, you still manage to do what you’re told — your hips back onto his from their own accord, puffy pussy locking down on megumi’s base to keep him inside. “i’m close… r-right there gumi!” you choke out.

“right here, baby?” is all he manages to respond with, moaning pornographically into your sweaty shoulder while he shifts the angle of his thrusts. “wanna feel you gush all fucking over me.” 

that’s all you need to hear before your toe curling orgasm comes crashing down on you like a large tidal wave. the knot in your tummy finally unravels and you break beneath the pressure of it all, waves of your juices splashing out onto the sheets and megumi’s pelvis — rewarding him for fucking you this good. you cum so hard that it’s enough to force megumi from your twitching hole, expelling a musky scent into the air.

“f-fucking shit, fuuuck me…” fushiguro stumbles off the edge not long after, using the seam of your panties to finish himself off while you twitch through the aftershocks of your high. he just barely makes it, fucking your underwear and nudging his sensitive cockhead against your abused mound until he’s filling the seat of your panties with fat globs of white hot seed. “jesus…’hmygod, baby. you’re such an angel...d-did so fucking well for me.” 

he peppers you with smooches until you’re calmed down enough to be rolled onto your back. megumi is careful to pull away from you, staying close while you sniffle and come back down to earth. he babies you throughout, lifting the rest of your dress over your head and waiting until you say he can move before grabbing you a spare shirt from your dresser.

“let me see you.” megumi whispers lovingly when he crawls back onto the bed to join you. he grabs his phone from the nightstand and ends its recording, pushing your thighs apart to snap pictures of your cum soaked undies and the thick white that clings to your fat pussy lips and clit. “perfect, you’re so perfect. 

“i am?” you whinge — camera shy. but you don’t tell him to stop, letting your older step brother rub his sensitive and overworked cock over your crotch, smearing the last evidence of your orgasms against you for a quick video. another one that’ll be added to his spank bank for later. “‘gumi…” you warn once you start to feel overstimulated.

he chuckles at how whiny you are, tugging your clean shirt over your head before he pulls you into his arms. “i got it, i’m sorry.” rocking you both back and forth, fushiguro kisses the crown of your head. “yanno… if you’re so serious about not joining me at college. i’ll try and convince your dad to let you stay in town. as long as you keep up your promise and try to start a business.” 

your heart skips a beat, and you cast a glance upwards at your step brother. “really?” 

“really. if it means that much to you.” 

sleep settles heavy in megumi’s bones and on his pretty face — one you didn’t realise you loved so much. “it does! thank you, ‘gumi,” you say quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “m-maybe you college boys aren’t so bad.” 

“oh come on now, didn’t me fucking you stupid literally just prove that?” 

“maybe.” 

“so you’ll come visit me at college then. since you like me so much.” fushiguro quips cheekily, narrowly missing your swat to his chest. 

you roll your eyes and try to unravel yourself from your step brother’s affectionate grip, but don’t hide your smile. “ugh! as if, don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

but teasing megumi further only gets you dragged back into the sheets — two sets of laughter echoing throughout the room in what appears to be another sibling fight. 

except this time, you’re not as clueless. 

you know that something like this, and with megumi, means something much, much more.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[claralikesellie]

fuckass streamer!ellie headcanons pt 2

check out my other headcanons here!!!

──── warnings: brainrot level god. used some of my mooties usernames for the chat bc im sorry im not that creative gang... TONYWRIGHT984 IS A CREEPPPPPP. lowkey short...😔. also i do NOT proof read🥀

──── author’s note: HELLO gng !! SOOOO sorry for taking so long… literally experienced writers block (if u can even consider this writing💔💔) hope yall liek this.. if u wanna b added to the taglist!!

౨ৎ

⌗⌗⌗ bro LOVES to react to all kinds of videos, like one day she’ll be reacting to five minutes crafts and another one she’s reacting to top 10 craziest water slides in the world

“yoooooo this one is INSANE i would never get on it”

| -‘enderwoahswife’: girl that slide is faker thn my ex💔

“uhhh you might be right it kinda looks a bit off…”

⌗⌗⌗ one day, she was reacting to those “Despacito is actually a satanic song” conspiracy vids and making the most dramatic gasp before going, “guys… they’re onto me” in a completely serious voice.

⌗⌗⌗ always asks chat “would you rather” questions but make it as weird and wtf as possible

“chat would you rather have a fidget spinner or BE a fidget spinner”

| -‘pinkklesbian: ?????’

| -‘freddyfazdyke: def be one’

| -‘iluvyeatxo: wjat’

”okay but hear me out, would you rather eat a poop flavored ice cream or eat a REAL poop that tastes like ice cream. let that SINK in.” then she crosses her arms and stares at the camera, making that smirk roblox face.

| -‘tonywright984: id rather eat your poop🥺🥺

| -‘elliewoahssidechick: EAT REAL POOP THAT TASTES LIKE CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM

| -‘isabelckl: second option lil bro

| -‘emowhofromwhoville: are u guys actually dumb??? the smartest option is to eat a poop flavored ICE CREAM, not REAL poop??? yall would get e coli or smth like that bruh😭😭

| -‘ironheart764: @emowhofromwhoviIle u MIGHT be onto something

| -‘elliewoahssidechick: IMMA STILL GO W THE SECOND OPTION😂😂😂😂

⌗⌗⌗ shes ALWAYS flexing. like bro could be playing fnaf 4 and when she gets jumpscared she puts the controller down and starts flexing her biceps.

“you guys, I could actually take foxy in a fight. like look at my muscles. my bicep, look at it—this shits like a nuclear bomb. i hit foxy and bro’s catching radiation too.

⌗⌗⌗ one day someone sent her a link of a yt video of a GROWN MAN like around his 70s and he was DISSING ellie so hard bro like a whole new level of hate. he was so offended and kept accusing her of TRAFFICKING “naruto”😭😭😭😭 (????)

“what the fuck is even naruto???? isn’t that like an anime???? why is this grandpa saying i trafficked 10 tons of naruto???”

⌗⌗⌗she literally made an email (enderwoahslit@gmail.com) just for people to send her info so she could pull phone pranks on them. people absolutely LOVED it. she gets so into the character its INSANE.

“okay guys, lets read this”

“LMAOOO okay gang lets call him”

…

- ‘yeah?’

- “hello, morning! am I talking to theo?”

- ‘uhh… yeah? who’s calling?’

- “let’s see… im uhh.. stella—and im calling from comcast xfinity, and according to the system, it looks like you’ve been trying to reach us a couple of times.”

- ‘oh yeah, i’ve been having issues with my internet lately… well, for the past two weeks. someone came but didn’t figure out my issue.’

- “hm, i see… go on and tell me what’s the problem and i’ll see what i can do.”

- ‘well, first of all, im not getting the speed i paid for and i keep getting disconnected.’

- “mm, so you’re having disconnects…”

- ‘yes, basically your connection, uhh the one you sell is useless, honestly.”

- “excuse me?”

- ‘i said that i find it useless, honestly.’

- “alright theo, let’s try to be polite here, because if we start throwing DARTS at each other we’re gonna end up POISONED.”

- ‘eh… sorry if i offended you but—‘

- “no no, don’t worry. we all get a little heated sometimes… okay, i’m gonna try to access your router, so i’ll put you on hold for a bit, okay?”

- ‘sure.’

- “i’m putting on some music.”

⤷ bro proceeds to blast “canyonero” from the simpsons at full volume, covering her mouth with her shirt to stifle her laughter. after 5 seconds she clears her throat.

- “alrighty theo, i’m back. so, i think i’ve accessed your router, and i want to run some checks to see if the problem is actually your computer and not the internet.”

- ‘eh… okay, what do i do?’

- “please open your calculator and do this operation:”

- ‘okay?’

- “one plus one equals?”

- ‘two.’

- “looks like your computer is working fine, hm…”

- ’it’s not my computer, it’s the connection…’

- “let’s try another one, a bit more complicated.”

- ‘eh… okay.’

- “one plus one plus two minus one. what’s that?”

- ‘…three.’

- “wow, seems like your computer really is working fine, huh?”

- ‘yes, i already told you, my computer is fine… it’s the connection that’s bad.’

- “okay, i need you to get close to your router, please.”

- ‘eh… for what?’

- “well, get closer and shout a bit, because i’m not sure… i accessed a router, but i don’t know if it’s yours. if you shout and cause vibrations, i can detect it and confirm it’s the right one. yeah?”

- ‘hold on… shout at the router?’

- “yes, to see if i detect the vibrations. come closer and let out a yell.”

⤷ ellie is barely holding it together, red as a tomato, pinching her nose to stop laughing.

- ‘are you serious?’

- “totally theo. i need to confirm im in your router… come closer and AAAGH, shout”

⤷ she shouts and the chat floods with people saying “that’s gonna get clipped.” (it did)

- ‘one sec… a AAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAA’

⤷ as theo shouts, ellie snorts and falls off her chair laughing.

- “oh my FUCKING god im sorry dude, this was a prank from your friend anthony LOL i couldn’t hold it in anymore”

⤷ and before theo can respond, she hangs up and continues laughing, out of breath, still on the floor.

“YO CHAT THIS WAS FIRE I CANT BREATHE OH MY”

| -‘abbysreal-wife: LMAOOO HE ACTUALLY YELLED AT THE ROUTER I CANTT’

| -‘user101notfound: this was so funny please do more prank calls’

| -‘claralikesenderw: I CAN T BIRTH😭😭😭😭😭😭’

⌗⌗⌗ she absolutely LOVES to clickbait w her thumbnails and titles

OPENING DEEP WEB BOXES!! (100% REAL NO FAKE) **actual c0rpse inside

⌗⌗⌗ bro didn’t even got deep web boxes, she just reacted to those 2019 yt videos unboxing the boxes

“you guys i get that this can be funny but imagine if some dumb kid sees this and actually goes like hm i wanna get those cool mystery boxes too imma enter the deep web. like thats lowkey dangerous please supervise your little siblings or cousins our whatever u have yall be safe”

| -‘valeisaslut: ellie caring for children? must be my last day on earth’

| -‘mymomlikesmybf: who are u and what have u done w ellie’

| -‘sigmaboy67: let them in the deep web they’ll grow character’

“god FORBID a girl care about children’s safety dude”

⌗⌗⌗ when starting a stream, she would randomly get all worked up and start yapping about nonsense while the chat is like can you fucking quit yapping and get straight to the point??

“yo guys its been a month since i last played fnaf and im a bit out of practice. but like my grandpa once told me—y’know, getting out of shape is solved by working out. honestly… my grandpa never said that, but hey, it sounds good.”

| -‘peppermintsocks: you dont even have a grandpa😭😭

| -‘juliettesaltacc: ur onto somthing (ccrackkk)’

| -‘robloxisas5: can you get to the point alr’

“i really love making up stuff your grandpa supposedly said. like, one time he supposedly told me that smoking weed is healthy, right? of course, you go… and smoke, just ‘cause you made it up. your grandpa never told you anything. hell, he probably didn’t even like you.”

| -‘drpepperluvr: STOP THIS MADNESS’

| -‘therealmitsukikoga: ur just yapping straight nonsense’

| -‘freddyfazdyke: guys someone stop her’

“imagine you’re at a dinner with friends and you go, ‘my grandpa once told me that you’re all assholes.’ and they can’t prove it’s a lie, so they leave thinking… maybe i am an asshole. how are you gonna question what an 80-year-old says? you CANT. an 80-year-old is superior. knows way more about life. so if he says you’re an asshole… yeah, lil bro, you are.”

| -‘spongbov0: that lowkey makes sense’

| -‘livelaughlovewe3d: are you high’

| -‘xXdunkin4lifeXx: that’s nice sweetie’

⌗⌗⌗ bro only reposts on her tt acc edits of her or those fuckass videos of ai animals dancing and talking or stuff like that and she always comments some shit like “is this real im shaking” or “did it actually say this”. she then has to delete them bc they always go viral💔💔

⌗⌗⌗ she has the weirdest and most delusional intros ever, ppl always clip her and these go viral in tiktok too, which makes her look like a fool but also gain more subscribers…. a win is a win💪🏼

“yo gang whats good!!!! everyone fine? everything chill? …yeah? love that for yall. me? im doing amazing… being sexy and irresistible, as always.”

⤷pause, smirk, hand through hair

| -‘angelsglitch: oh no not again’

| -‘tonywright984: @angeIsglitch im gonna touch you’

“first of all—yeah, sorry about that, it just comes out, y’know? just i can’t help it. so many people dm me like, ‘ellie please, stop being so sexy.’ and im like… brooo i swear i cant control it but it i tryyy😫”

| -‘kingofeyeliner: this girl is such a loser outcast nerd i have GOT to fuck her’

| -‘eughstevie_: bros delusional again’

| -‘1creeperewman: nurse shes awake’

| -‘elliesleftbicep: @kingofeyeIiner wait what’

“like, i literally try to dress bad. purposely mess up my hair. but then i look in the mirror and im like—“

⤷leans in, dramatic pause

“fuckkk… that’s me? lowkey wanna eat myself” 😪

| -‘freddyfazdyke: PREACHHHH’

| -‘tonywright984: i want to eat yo pusi😔’

| -‘flutterlesbian: tony gotta log off’

| -‘beachbambii: how is tony not banned alr????’

| -‘juliettesaltacc: @tonywright984 bro chill’

౨ৎ

taglist: @abbysreal-wife @flutterlesbian @caitvisthirdmember @marleeeen111 @musicbrownie @pearlescent0o @lunarhope8 @brooklynsbookworm @iadorefineshyt

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN PT.3

Too tired to do my obligations, but too stressed out to sleep, so here we find ourselves again.

This, once again, got horribly long- so long, in fact, I think this is the longest post in this 'trilogy'-, so I apologize in advance (╥ᆺ╥;) I also apologize for the lack of doodles, but dont worry! Im preparing a special one for later <33

After that night where SY offered Binghe an umbrella, things have certainly… changed. Unlike before, where SY spent most of his time mapping away at the ridiculously complex castle hallways and carefully marking away which times it was most likely for SY to be able to get close to Xin Mo, alongside doing his ‘servant’ duties of gathering dirty laundry and cleaning a room here and there, his routine had been suddenly adjusted; now, while he still needed to do everything he was doing before, his servant duties consisted of accompanying the chosen Wife Of The Day.

Or, well, that’s how one of the higher ranking staff had put it, that he was to attend to whatever wife Lord Luo decided to entertain for the day, but honestly, SY was starting to suspect that that had been a convoluted way for Binghe to have SY around whenever he wanted, which…. Was frankly quite worrying! To have the golden protagonist keep his eyes glued on his back almost every second they were in the same room, which - if SY looked back- usually led to Binghe looking away in a (bad) attempt to pretend he wasn’t glaring daggers at SY was more than enough for SY to think the Emperor was probably plotting his demise.

What else could it be? Specially with the way Binghe’s hand seemed to always be lightly tugging at the tassel on his hair every time SY caught him looking, he suspects Binghe had caught onto SY not actually being a servant, and instead that weird guy he saw before he fell into hell that one time. What if Binghe thought SY was somehow involved into the Abyss Incident?? Lord Luo, please have mercy on this servant!

Though, maybe the strangest part of it all, was that sometimes Binghe and SY would just… talk. Usually when the Wife Of The Day was doing something else (e.g. playing music for her husband, or practicing archery, or doing anything that didn’t involve LBH 100% at her side), Binghe would just start musing out loud about the strangest things. It started with questions that were all fair to ask, like ‘How come this servant is a human in the demon realm’, or ‘How come this servant has such short hair’ (SY bullshitted something about being a former slave) but eventually it shifted to questions that were a bit more… random. Or, well, not even questions, musings that Binghe muttered out loud but clearly wanted SY’s input.

It started with minimal things, like Binghe wondering about some type of monster he wanted to fight but he forgot how to do it without damaging the fur too much, which, after a minute of silence and a not-so-subtle look at SY, led to SY nerding out and saying not only the monsters weakness, but what could be done with every important part of the body. Though, the day after that SY realized how strange it was that Binghe was wondering that out loud, since he only fought that monster well into his time as an Emperor, and he swore he remembered one of the wives gushing about her new bracelet that was made from the rare bones of that creature just a few days ago…

Anyways, it continued with questions of similar nature: musings on how to kill a monster Binghe would have no problem killing, to what he should eat for dinner, to what gift should he get for Wife Of The Day. Of course, SY answered all the ‘questions’, and sometimes they even made it to having an actual conversation! Sure, it was a little stilted, SY could not figure out for the life of him why the great Lord Luo was interacting with a random servant, but one day it all finally clicked to him. Binghe had been in the middle of ‘musing’ about hair oils(??), when SY couldn’t help but interrupt him:

“Ah…. Apologies if this lowly servant is overstepping, My Lord, but does My Lord just want someone to talk to?”

A few emotions flashed through Binghe's face quickly enough for SY to not be able to decifer any of them, but eventually landing on a sheepish smile. "This Lord has been found out."

Oh, how cute! And how sad! SY had noticed when SQH was just showing him his shitty story how sad that LBH, even after getting the world to bow at his feet, never really had friendships. Sure, he still had all the love he could want, but sometimes people need friends to talk to, not lovers!

While he knew that he shouldn't interact with characters in world overlooked by the System unless they were transmigrators, SY couldn't help but feel that the situation was dire enough that LBH would turn to a no-name servant in this time of desperation. And it would be a great opportunity to study Xin Mo more closely as well! If SY showed LBH the wonders of friendship, maybe he could pass by his supervisor that he only had to do what was necessary for this world to not implode on itself.

Besides, who could even say no to such a handsome man such as LBH? Is as the old saying goes: what the protagonist wants, he shall have.

*

SY's friendship plan has been going great! After figuring out Binghe's intentions, it seems all of the protagonists reservations flew out the window, and SY was now responsible for being Binghe's personal retainer. Not that that meant too much, since Binghe liked to bend the rules to his liking, and some tasks that should be SY's responsability sometimes were pushed to another servant or Binghe himself made them (which, ???)

Mostly, SY stood at Binghe's side, served tea, was used so Binghe could bounce ideas off of someone, and tended to finer details. All of that very much manageable, if not for the weird mood swings LBH would have sometimes. Yuan, as he has told Binghe was his name after being too scared of the repercutions of using 'Shen', was to accompany him all the time, but sometimes not all the time, or else LBH would get moody; Yuan was to listen to LBH's ideas and plans, and should always comment back or else Binghe would feel neglected, but not too much or else, as LBH had put it, could 'bring back bad memories'; Yuan was to tend to LBH's night routine, even as far as to brush his hair, and if he refused LBH (again) get all moody, but he couldn't brush too much, and he had to do at least one braid but NEVER touch the old, frizzy braid that still had that damn tassle-

Honestly, it was a careful game of balance, which reminded SY more often than not of a child that got mad when their older sibling didn't quite understand the redundant rules they made for a make-believe. Any other person would get fed up, and probably scared of Binghe's constant mood swings, but SY had him all figured out, and his resilience proved to be useful time and time again, since most of the time after his sour mood passed, Binghe would come crawling back with the most pitiful face ever, and what was SY to do? As LBH's friend, it was his duty to hug him and pat his head! (And no one could judge him for that, since if he didn't pat Binghe's head, his mood would plummet all over again.)

Though... SY did feel kind of bad. He wouldn't be able to stay with Binghe forever, and would even need to potentially steal his all-powerful sword for a little bit so everything wouldn't get corrupted. Honestly, the only thing keeping SY from worrying about being labled as a traitor and potentially getting killed was that he would just go back to the System's office and go on with his life.

*

LBH, eventually, caught onto SY's plan on leaving - really, it was only a matter of time. After that fateful encounter with that other SQQ, LBH had found himself in rather pitiful state, questioning everything he knew until that moment and wondering why he couldn't achieve that happiness, and desperately trying to search for a SQQ of his own. He had contemplated going back to that first world, but what would it even matter? Even if he took SQQ by force, his heart would still be with that other LBH, and Binghe couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't be everything in SQQ's world, as he had become for LBH.

Specially after Meng Mo had one day interupted his carefully crafted dream of an idelic world and pointed out some curious memories he'd almost forgotten about. That day, when back in his childhood, when he'd been beaten up by a buch of older kids and hallucinated a man in strange clothes before passing out and waking up protected from the rain. Or when he thought he'd lost his jade pendant forever, only to magically appear in the cabin later.

Or the strange man in the Immortal Alliance Conference.

After SQQ- SJ , that good-for-nothing scum- pushed him to the Abyss, he tried his best to never think about that day again, too scared by how weak he'd been, pleading to man that would sell his soul for one more night at that brothel of his if he could, but now... Now that he could mold his dreamscape any way he wanted, he could look back with a clear mind, which eventually led to the conclusion: It must have been the same person. The same strangely dressed man that helped him in his childhood somehow appeared at the Immortal Alliance again, and even had left provisions right next to where Binghe had fallen.

He'd convinced himself, after many, many years of wishing for a miracle, that he's simply imagined the man, one last thread to keep himself from going insane, but after meeting the other SQQ...

And then Yuan came in. A new servant that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

It took some observation, and a lot preparing himself to face dissapointment that maybe he was just projecting, putting the image of someone else onto a random man, but that day, when LBH was wondering if he was just wasting time, that that beautiful dream of having his version of SQQ would not happen any time in this world, that maybe he really should just go look at other worlds; after all, if it happened once, it had to happen again, right? Not that it mattered in the end, since while he spireled, much to Xin Mo's pleasure, an umbrella was put over his head, and all his doubts had washed away.

Yuan had to be his version of SQQ, it had to be. And after all his effort of getting close to him, after going so far to keep Yuan at his side, even if he still battled with that his perception of SJ and the other SQQ sometimes overlapping with Yuan's image, even if he still wasn't ready to let go of that one braid, he was becoming more and more sure in his assumption that his SQQ had come to him. Everything was going as planned, and LBH was in track to finally begin to properly court him, and yet-

He was sure Yuan wanted to leave. He wasn't sure why, not how he would do that, maybe just dissapear like he had all those years ago and either only appear again 5, 10, 100 years in the future or go back to wherever he came from in the first place. But LBH knew Yuan wanted to leave, that he needed to complete whatever mission he had (after LBH managed to pry that out of his dreams, which where another source of confusion, with how absurdly difficult they were to even get a grasp of), and that, under any circumstances, he could let Yuan escape his sight.

Not again. Never again.

Binghe had become even stickier in the last few weeks. Not that SY minded, it was very cute to see such a different side from the cool, badass Lord Luo, but SY was running out of time. Since Binghe became stickier, his mood swings had worsened even more, now not wanting SY to be anywhere that Binghe wasn't, and Xin Mo seemed to be thriving off of whatever was making Binghe extra protective, though it was becoming a genuine problem now, since Binghe suddenly refused to see any of his wive's to deal with the Xin Mo problem, and he seemed to be on the verge of qi deviation at all times.

In fact, the only reason Binghe hadn't already qi deviated was because SY was abusing his Personal System and chipping away at the qi deviation in Binghe's night routine, since it was the only time where he was physically very close to Binghe and could spend long periods of time manually coding away at the System screen without it looking suspicious.

But, as if that wasn't enough of a problem, since Xin Mo was having the time of it's life recently, the virus clinging to the sword was also getting stronger, leaving even more residuals all along the castle and bordering on infecting Binghe himself.

His Scissors where thankfully, repaired, and his sweet, sweet manager was even kind enough to send him some extra energy supplies, but at the rate the virus was spreading, he was worrying that he would have to deal with the source as soon as possible or else it would become to strong to deal with it in a non-destructive way.

He... Didn't want to leave Binghe just yet, specially since he wanted SY's attention more than ever recently, but...

No, he needed to do this; their time together was never supposed to be eternal anyways, and if he let the virus spread, he would only be putting LBH's life in danger, and he couldn't continue living with himself after that. He decided he would fix the virus at night, while Binghe slept, and by the next morning he would be gone - he would have, after all, just enough energy to go back to the office.

He just hoped Binghe would be able to forgive him later.

When night came, and SY got to doing the usual night preparations, it just felt like an extra needle being stabbed in his heart when, while brushing Binghe's hair, Binghe looks back uncharacteristicly anxious, and asks if SY can undo the braid and remake it. SY does, and if Binghe notices SY takes extra long to pamper him that night, he says nothing.

When SY is sure Binghe is asleep, he sneaks out of his room and heads to back to Binghe's. Yeah, maybe he stalls a bit with snipping off every piece of the residual virus he came across, but one could argue he was just being extra thorough with his job.

The excuse, unfortunately, didn't last long and eventually he found himself in front of Binghe's room, staring at the door as if he was about to be sentenced to death. After a few minutes of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the doors. Binghe usually slept with the sword perched right beside his bed, so SY would probably have to use the System and put Binghe in an extra deep sleep if he wanted to make sure the other didn't wake-

The moment he places a foot inside, though, he realizes something is wrong; the room is empty, Binghe is not asleep in his bed and Xin Mo is not besides the bed. Oh, oh no, had Binghe-

"A-Yuan." Binghe says, and SY nearly jumps as he turns around. There LBH stands in the middle of the hallway, not even in his sleeping robes, with a hand clutched tightly on Xin Mo's handle. His eyes are watery but no tears spill.

SY tries to speak but finds he doesn't even know what to say, he can't even try to deny that he's up to something, since his gigantic Scissors are just out an about. Still, he tries to make Binghe understand, say that he needs to do this, and after this Binghe won't have to worry about anything anymore. Though it barely seems like Binghe is listening, and eventually just cuts in when SY starts to say anything in his panic.

"This is what A-Yuan wants, right?" He asks, extending one arm and presenting the glitched out Xin Mo. SY doesn't even have the chance to find an excuse, as Binghe immediately continues. "Than take it."

"Wh- Huh?" "Take it."

He's so shocked he almost drops his Scissors. What does he mean 'take it'??? Binghe has to know everything that's at stake here! He doesn't even know what SY wants to do with it! He tries to say that, how Binghe shouldn't just hand the sword to anyone like that, but a sudden burst of energy set his priorities straight. Shit- The virus! It's growing by the second, at this point SY will have to cut Xin Mo-

"...Binghe, I-" "I don't care what A-Yuan wants with Xin Mo! Take it, use it, break it if you want, I don't care! But if A-Yuan takes it, than he will have to stay." "Binghe, that's not..." "Why not?! That's your goal, right? Do whatever it is that you want to do with Xin Mo? Than here you go, A-Yuan can do it, but I won't let you leave me again."

SY can't even mask when his eyes dart towards the tassle on Binghe's new braid. Binghe just clenched his jaw, but it feels like confirmation enough.

He adjusts his grip on the Scissors, and, as he has nothing else to hide, dispels the System's illusion, his simple clothes glitching out to reveal the System's uniform. Binghe's eyes fill even more with tears, but none fall."

"I... I'll have to go back, Binghe." "No." "Binghe, listen to me, I-" "No. No! A-Yuan will get Xin Mo, and then he will stay." "I-" "You will stay! I can't-" Binghe can't even finish his sentence before he has to choke out a sob.

The virus starts warping the air around it, and slowly crawling up Binghe's arm. SY's decision has practically been made for him. He lifts the Scissors. Binghe pushes Xin Mo forward.

"...I'll come back." "A-Yuan-" "I'll come back, Binghe." One single tear falls and his arm jerks, not knowing if he trusts SY's words or not. He still his arm as the Scissor blades encircle Xin Mo.

"A-Yuan..." "I'll come back, I promise." "..." "I promise."

"......Okay."

Shen Yuan cuts Xin Mo.