#'it's got CHEMICALS in it' and so do you! and me too! IT'S ALL CHEMICALS ALL THE WAY DOWN
Text
Not the Lab
fanfiction
ao3
word count: 7184
No one knows au except dash baxter @xscarletsakurax
warning: dissection, scalpels, its not a very graphic description tho
hehehehhehehe
Danny opened the door and was met with a broad chest. His eyes raised and he met Dash’s gaze. He was leaning against the door frame and was staring down at Danny.
“What do you want, Dash?”
“I’m here for my tutoring session with your sister. Let me in.”
Danny blocked Dash’s step forward. “She’s not even home.”
“Oh.” Dash looked away. “I guess I got the day wrong. Again.”
“Yeah.” Danny stared at him.
Dash looked back up at Danny. “Do you care if I still come in and just work on my homework? Jazz is great at answering my questions when I don’t understand something but she’s also mostly there to redirect me when I lose focus. This place has good learning energy.” Dash gestured with his hands in a big circle.
Danny watched him for a few moments before sighing. “Fine. But if you start messing with anything in here you have to leave.”
Dash nodded. “I’ll just be in the kitchen like when I’m with Jazz.” He walked in and turned back to look at Danny before he walked into the kitchen. “Did you want to work on your homework with me too?”
Danny shrugged and followed behind him. “Might as well. I gotta keep an eye on you if you’re here. Let me just go get my backpack.”
He headed up the stairs and left Dash to walk into the kitchen by himself. He set himself up at his regular spot at the table and started pulling all of his materials out. When he was done he looked up and saw the door to the Fenton’s lab that stared at him every time he was here.
Just as he was thinking about standing up, Danny walked back into the room with his backpack.
“What are you starting with?” Danny asked as he rummaged inside his open backpack.
“Math.” Dash replied. “It’s my worst subject so I’d rather get that done first where the learning vibes are good.”
“I guess I’ll start with that too. Then we can ask each other questions if we need to.”
Dash nodded. “That makes sense.”
They sat there for an hour doing their homework and occasionally asking each other about one of the questions in their textbook. They finally finished the assignment and Dash slouched down and leaned his head over the back of the chair.
“I hate math.”
“Me too.”
They sat in silence for a few more moments before Dash spoke again.
“Want to take a break?”
He brought his head back up to see Danny staring at him. Danny’s cheeks flushed a little and he snorted. “What would we even do?”
Dash looked over Fenton’s shoulder at the lab again.
“We could go take a look in your parent’s lab.”
“No!” Danny shouted.
“Why not?” Dash leaned forward in his seat. “Are they secretly mad scientists experimenting on people down there?”
Danny leveled a stare at him. “No. Other people just aren’t allowed in there. It’s family only.”
Dash leaned back in his seat again and tapped his fingers against his arm. There was no way he’d be able to weasel his way in with that argument.
“What if I invited you to my next party? Would that be enough to let me go downstairs?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Go to one party? Or not get grounded by my parents? That’s not a difficult decision.”
Dash squinted at Danny and stood up. He started making his way around the table and Danny stood up blocking Dash’s path.
“You haven’t been able to take me in years.”
“I’ve been taking your shit everyday.”
Dash groaned.
“C’mon, Fentina! Just let me take a peek down in that so-called lab! I just want one little look.”
Danny placed himself between the basement door and Dash. “No. My parents would kill me if I let you down there.”
“What’s the fuss, anyways? You’ve said yourself that none of your parents' inventions even work because ghosts aren’t real. What’s the harm in just one little peek?” Dash bent down to look Danny in the eye.
“Just because ghosts aren’t real doesn’t mean my parents don’t work with hazardous chemicals. I don’t want you touching something that could burn your skin off or, I don’t know, seal all the orifices in your body closed.” Danny crossed his arms.
Dash snorted. “Yeah, like they have something like that.”
He tried to go around Danny but he moved so he was still in front of Dash and poked a finger into his chest.
“We’re not going down there.”
Dash grabbed the wrist on the hand that was pointing at him.
“Don’t you want us to think you’re cool? I wanna see your parents' cool lab. We could even see if we could fix that new invention of theirs. It would make them super happy.”
Danny stared at him for a few moments, studying his face. “If they couldn’t get it to work properly, I don’t see how we’d be able to do it.”
“So does that mean you want to try?” Dash asked with a smile on his face.
“If it means my parents will be happy afterwards, we can try.”
Finally, Danny turned around and opened the door.
Dash could tell it was a heavy door. It was made of metal and creaked when it was pushed open. A cold waft of air gusted past them and Dash stared down the stairs over Danny’s shoulder. He flicked a lightswitch and the lights over the stairs flickered on.
Danny started walking down the stairs and Dash was still for a moment before following behind him.
“So what’s this new invention of theirs? Some kind of portal?” Dash asked as he studied the metal paneling on the wall.
“Yeah.” Danny responded over his shoulder. “It was supposed to be some kind of ghost portal but when they plugged it in it never turned on. They were really disappointed about it.”
“Do they really believe ghosts are real?”
Danny shrugged. “They’ve got all these studies and measurements. I have no idea how they’ve gotten all this information but they believe ghosts are the cause of all of it.”
They stepped down off the bottom step onto the clean, tiled floor. Dash looked around the basement, taking in all the science equipment they had laying around down there. It was very messy, which heavily contrasted what the rest of the house looked like. He figured the Fenton’s would be more neat than this, especially concerning the hazardous materials Danny was talking about before. He can see why Danny was worried about that. There were green splatters everywhere. On every counter and on the table in the center of the room and he even saw it on the door as Danny pushed it closed.
“Why’s it so messy down here?” Dash asked as he walked further into the lab.
Danny walked over and stood next to him. “One of my chores is to clean the lab and I haven’t had time for it lately.”
Dash shot Danny a look. “Your parents make you clean up their lab?”
Danny shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah.”
“Why are they making you clean up hazardous material? That was an excuse you gave me for why I shouldn’t come down here.”
Danny waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. Besides, I know what I’m doing.”
“If you say so.” Dash went to go look at the mess of items on one of the counters. The green splatters were so vivid. They almost looked like they were glowing. Dash turned and caught a glimpse of what he assumed was the Fenton’s new invention.
“Hey.” Dash nodded his head at the hole in the wall. “What’s that?”
“That’s my parent’s attempt at building a working ghost portal. They don’t know what’s wrong with it.” Danny walked right up to the portal and peered inside. “They said they had an earlier version of this that worked a little better so they thought they had this one right. They’re not sure why it didn’t work.”
“Maybe we can figure it out.” Dash said. “Maybe they overlooked some small detail.”
“Maybe.” Danny turned back around and walked to the opposite side of the room. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a jumpsuit that looked similar to what his parents always wore.
“You have matching outfits with your parents?” Dash snickered.
Danny unzipped the zipper. “They’re supposed to help prevent ecto-contamination.”
“Ecto-contamination?”
“Yeah. It comes from ectoplasm.” Danny stuck his legs into the suit. “That’s what ghosts are made out of and produce. That’s what my parents use for their studies.”
“How do they get their ectoplasm?” Dash asked, studying the green splatters again.
Danny shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think they’ve said there’s just more than average residual ectoplasm in Amity Park or something.”
“Oh. Weird.”
“Yeah.”
Danny turned around and Dash held in a snort.
“Ha! What is that?” Dash laughed and pointed at Danny’s chest.
Danny looked down and groaned. He pulled his dad’s face off of his jumpsuit and threw it in the garbage. “Embarrassing.”
Danny walked up to the portal and stood just outside it, staring.
“What do you think is wrong with it?” Dash asked.
“I have no idea.” Danny replied. “I’m hoping it’ll be something fairly obvious though. If it’s too complicated I won’t be able to do much.”
He started walking inside and he looked all around the portal. Dash wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and he was sure Danny didn’t know either. The further in he walked, the darker he got.
But then everything went wrong.
Dash watched as Danny tripped over something in the portal, and then he heard a soft click. Suddenly the inside of the portal was lighting up and Dash felt his heart fall to his stomach.
This wasn’t good.
The humming got louder and louder and Dash started running forward.
“Danny!”
A moment later a green light so bright it looked white filled the room and Dash staggered back, shielding his eyes. Danny’s screams filled the room. They were so harrowing and pain filled and it had Dash covering his ears closed instead of covering his eyes.
He didn’t know how long it lasted for, if it was moments or minutes, but when Dash finally heard something hit the ground, he risked peeking his eyes open.
When he saw that the bright light was dying down, he opened his eyes the rest of the way and saw Danny laying on the floor in front of him. He looked strange though.
His hair was now snow white and his jumpsuit had been inverted and was now mostly black. Danny looked like he had burns from the portal but somehow they seemed to be healing themselves back up, even the suit. Danny even looked like he was glowing.
Once the green light disappeared into a swirling vortex, Dash ran forward and dragged Danny away from it. Once he deemed them far enough away, he knelt on the ground and pulled Danny into his lap, his back resting against Dash’s legs.
“Danny.” He shook him. His white hair ruffled back and forth from the movement. “Danny. Wake up. Please.”
After the last shake, Danny’s eyebrows furrowed and he groaned. He raised a hand to his forehead and pried his eyes open. He looked around for a few moments before his gaze drifted up to Dash.
“Oh, thank god.” Dash whispered. “I thought you were- I don’t even know if you really are- You look so-” Dash cut himself off as he choked up.
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“You went into the portal in that hazmat suit. You tripped over something and fell into the wall and there must’ve been a button on it or something because everything started glowing this scary green color and then you were screaming. You were screaming so loud.”
Danny rubbed a spot on his hand, a vacant stare in his eyes.
“Danny, are you okay? You look so different. What if you’re-”
Suddenly a bright ring appeared around Danny’s waist. They both jumped and watched as it split and traveled over his body. Dash thought he would’ve felt something, but it was like the ring wasn’t even touching him even with Danny’s proximity to him.
When the ring passed over his head and disappeared Danny was left just how he had walked into the portal.
“You’re-” Dashed started. “You’re back to normal.”
“What happened to me?” Danny whispered, still rubbing the spot on his hand.
Dash’s heart rate picked up. His chest started rising and falling faster and the room spun a little.
“We have to go get your parents! We don’t even know what this thing did to you. They would-”
Danny sat up and turned. He covered Dash’s mouth with his hand. “We are not telling my parents. We’re not even supposed to be down here.”
He looked at Dash with wide, shaken looking eyes. “My parents would have killed me if they knew I brought you down here. But I don’t know what they’d do to me if they found out what their portal turned me into.”
Dash’s eyes widened and Danny slowly removed his hand from his mouth.
“I killed you.” He whispered.
Danny shook his. “Don’t say that.” He whispered back. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.”
Dash ran a hand through his hair. “You died! You stepped out of the portal all glowy and different colors! Then you magical girl transformed!”
“I died but I don’t think I’m dead.” Danny said. “I can still feel my heart beating.”
Dash stopped and looked back up at him. “Really?”
Danny nodded.
“Can I…?” Dash reached a hand out.
Danny nodded again. “It’ll probably help convince you I’m not actually still dead.”
Dash pressed his fingers against Danny’s neck and waited. Then he could feel the soft beats of his heart. He held his hand there for a few more moments before he lowered it.
“What even happened to you?” He whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“What do we do?” Dash asked.
Danny shook his head. “We can’t tell anyone. People would think I’m some sort of freak. And I don’t know what my parents would do.” He looked up at Dash. “This has to stay between us.”
Dash nodded. Who would they tell anyways? No one besides the Fenton’s could really help them. There was no one to turn to.
Danny groaned. “Help me up.”
Dash stood and grabbed Danny by the hands and pulled him up. Dash was about to let go when suddenly Danny started sinking through the floor.
“What the fuck?” Danny shouted panickingly as his feet disappeared into the tiles below them.
Dash kept a tight grip on Danny’s hands. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he let go and Danny disappeared. He pulled Danny up and out of the ground and when Dash set him back down, Danny’s feet were once again solid.
“Never seen that before.” Dash whispered.
Danny just stared at him. “Thanks Sherlock, me either.”
“How do we stop that from happening?” Dash asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe-”
A beeping rang throughout the lab and Dash looked around in a panic. Was something about to blow up? Danny wasn’t nearly concerned enough for that. He did look a bit panicked though.
The beeping died down and Dash looked around him again. “What was that?”
“The ‘someone’s in the driveway alert.’ My parents are home.”
Anxiety spiked in Dash’s stomach and he turned to face the stairs. “Why do they-”
“It doesn’t matter. They can’t find us down here.”
Dash grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him up the stairs.
They were at the top of the steps when they heard the rattling of the front door knob through the door to the lab. Dash ran up the rest of the way as he pulled Danny behind him. Together they pushed the heavy door closed. They rushed back to their seats and sat down just in time for Danny’s parents to walk in.
“Hi, Danny!” Maddie called. “How are you- Oh.”
Maddie paused as she walked into the kitchen, gaze landing on Dash. She looked between the two of them and smiled.
“Dash! It’s nice to see you again. I’m glad to see you two hanging out again after all this time.”
Danny’s gaze landed on Dash. “We’re not friends, Mom. He thought his tutoring session with Jazz was today and asked if he could stay and do homework here. He said the house has ‘good learning vibes.’”
“Oh.” Maddie’s smile fell a little and Dash wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Well, I hope you two still had a good time.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “It’s just homework.”
“Nevertheless, if you two ever need to-”
“Danny-boy!” Jack bellowed as he walked into the kitchen, carrying three cartons of fudge. “They stocked up on your favorite peanut butter fudge!” He thrust them into Danny’s hands.
“Are all three of these one flavor?” Danny asked, flabbergasted.
“You betcha.” He turned towards the basement door. “Your mother and I are going to start running diagnostics on the portal and try to figure out why it didn’t turn on.”
He opened the door and started walking down the stairs.
“Wish us luck!” Maddie called to them before she followed behind him and closed the door.
Dash stared at it for a moment. “How do you think they’d feel if they knew they just hadn’t actually turned it on.”
“I’m sure it’s just a new addition on a long list of oversights.” Danny said. He stood up from the table and staggered, holding his head.
“Are you okay?” Dash asked.
“I’ve got a killer headache. And my head feels like it’s spinning.”
“Will you be-”
Danny shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. You should go before my parents pull us back down into the lab to show us that the ghost portal miraculously started working.”
Danny’s screams rang in his head again. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to step foot down in that lab again.
“Yeah. I should be heading home anyways.”
Dash packed up his backpack and slung it onto his shoulder. Danny walked him to the door and opened it.
“See you tomorrow?” Dash asked.
“Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow.” Danny replied and closed it behind him once he walked out.
Dash stared at the door for a moment before he turned around and walked down the stairs to the sidewalk.
He took a deep breath and gripped his shaking hands onto his backpack straps.
Danny died today. Danny died and they didn’t have any answers. Danny died and it was Dash’s fault for insisting they go into the basement. How could he ever face him again?
The walk from Danny’s house to Dash’s felt way too short. Almost as if he blinked and suddenly he was home.
Maybe if he went to sleep he’d wake up and find out this was all a bad dream. Maybe he could pretend that none of this actually happened.
He quietly unlocked and opened his front door, closing it behind him. He quietly made his way up the stairs to his room and dropped his backpack on the floor before collapsing into bed.
He hoped none of this would be real when he woke up.
~~~~~~~~
Dash wanted to go back to bed.
Dash wasn’t sure he had even wanted to go to school today. His stomach was still roiling and he didn’t want to find out if Danny had actually died yesterday. Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing. Maybe Danny had actually died and was still lying fried on his basement floor right now. Maybe he survived the initial accident but died later that night.
He stood on the sidewalk staring at the school as it towered in front of him. He was already here. He had to go in.
He took a deep breath and was about to start walking when he saw a mop of black hair walking ahead of him.
Danny yawned a big yawn and he looked tired but he was alive.
“Danny!” Dash shouted, waving a hand in the air. Danny turned around to look at him. He looked around them as Dash walked up to him.
“What do you want, Dash?”
Dash stopped short. “I came to see how you were doing. Glad to see you surviving was real.”
“Oh.” Danny shuffled awkwardly on his feet. “Yeah. Still alive. I think I ended up sinking through my bed into the living room last night, though. I woke up at like four in the morning on the living room floor.”
“Oh dang.”
“Yeah.” Danny said as he started walking toward the school. Dash followed after him. “The worst part though was when I tried lifting my arm up in front of my face and I couldn’t see it because somehow my body had turned itself invisible.”
“I’m still wondering just what exactly that portal did to you.” Dash said, lowering his head and his voice closer to Danny. “Like, do you just have ghost powers now or something?”
Danny frowned. “I’m sure it’s more than that. But basically.”
“Man, that’d be so cool.” Dash said. “If I had ghost powers, I’d-”
Dash was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. They turned around and were met with Sam and Tucker looking at them.
“What’s going on here?” Sam asked, pointing between the two of them.
“What?” Danny asked, his voice rising in pitch. “There’s nothing going on here. We’re just two guys chatting.”
Sam and Tucker shared a look and smirked at Danny.
“No! Not like that!” A blush rose on Danny’s cheeks and Dash looked between Danny and his friends a couple times before he processed what Danny meant. A blush rose to his own cheeks.
“Well, what’s happening then?” Tucker asked. “Did you guys finally make up?”
Sam looked at him. “Make up?”
Tucker nodded. “Yeah. They used to be friends when we were kids. They had some fight when we were younger. I never really knew what it was about.”
Dash looked at Danny to see him already staring at him. Danny studied him for a few moments before speaking. “Yeah, I guess you can say we finally made up.”
“Cool.” Tucker said casually.
“Cool? That’s it? No questions?” Sam asked him. “You’re not curious at all how they figured this thing out after years of conflict?”
Tucker shrugged. “If they want to tell us they will.”
Sam crossed her arms and huffed. “I guess you’re right.”
They started walking towards the school and Dash and Danny followed behind them.
“Did you want to tell them?” Dash whispered.
Danny looked at him and then looked back at Sam and Tucker. “I… I don’t know. I don’t want them to think I’m weird or a freak.”
“Okay. We can keep it between us for now.” Dash nodded.
Danny gave one curt nod and then quickened his pace to catch up with Sam and Tucker.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Phantom is so cool.” Sam said as she finished swallowing a bite of her food.
Danny spit out his drink and looked up at her. Dash sent him a look. “He is?”
“Yeah. I mean, some vigilante ghost kid fighting to protect us even though no one trusts him? I’d say that’s pretty cool.”
“Do you trust him?” Danny asked, looking between Sam and Tucker.
Tucker shrugged. “He hasn’t really given us a reason not to trust him.” He placed a hand on his chin and started thinking about it. “Except for maybe that time he ruined Valerie’s life. Or when he kidnapped the mayor. He also stole all that stuff one time. Or-”
Sam elbowed Tucker. “People have off days! I don’t think he did any of that stuff on purpose. Remember he broke out of that spell that Freakshow put him under? He saved me because he was able to break out of it.”
“Also it was the dog that ruined Valerie’s life.” Dash corrected. “Not Phantom himself.”
“Yeah!” Sam gestured at Dash. “All the ghosts seem to have it out for Phantom for some reason. How do we know it’s not just all orchestrated?”
“Is the property damage orchestrated?” Tucker asked her.
“Haha.” Sam took another bite of her food. “But I’m serious. He just… He’s just a kid. Doing this all by himself. It’s messed up.”
Tucker nodded. “He seems so familiar too. It makes me wonder if we knew him before he died.”
Dash watched as Danny looked between the two of them, stunned. He opened his mouth.
“Guys, I have something to tell-”
Danny was interrupted by something crashing outside. It sent the windows shattering and screams erupted around the cafeteria as everyone ducked down to cover their heads and faces.
“What happened?” Sam looked out the windows, her breathing quick. A screech echoed around the schoolyard.
Danny gasped out his ghost sense and Dash followed his gaze to where it stood.
“There’s a ghost.” Dash pointed to it.
It was digging around in the dirt like it was looking for something. Dash couldn’t tell what animal it was supposed to be. It was boney and skeletal, its hips jutting out from its body.
Danny stood up and ran across the cafeteria, pushing open the door along the wall with the windows.
“Danny!” Sam and Tucker shouted as they stood up together.
They went to run after Danny but Dash grabbed Sam’s wrist before she could go anywhere.
“What are you doing?” She asked him hysterically. “We have to go get him! He can’t just be running around outside like that while there’s a ghost attacking!”
“Yeah, dude. Are you mental?” Tucker asked Dash.
“Danny-”
“Needs our help!” Sam tore her wrist out of Dash’s hand and they ran across the room to the door. Dash shifted in his place, jittery. He finally followed after them.
When he got outside they were already across the grass, but instead of looking for Danny they were looking up in the air at the fight.
“Foley! Manson! Get over here!” Dash shouted at them from the building. “You’re not even looking for Danny! You need to-”
The screech of tires signaled the Fenton’s arrival. They jumped out of their van and brandished their weapons.
“You take that side, Jack! I’ll stay here!”
“Aye, aye!” Jack ran away from her to the other side of the schoolyard.
“Sam, Tucker! Get-”
The ghost looked up at Dash’s voice but its gaze landed on Sam and Tucker first. It hissed at them, the sound grating. It started charging at them and they both took a step back but it was moving too fast.
“No!” Danny shouted, flying towards them.
He got to them just in time to grab them both and knock them out of the way. They tumbled across the ground and Dash could hear Sam and Tucker screaming from where he stood. Danny pulled himself back up and stood between them and the ghost. His fists clenched.
“You’re not getting through me, ghost!”
Danny jumped back into the fight and it took only a couple more hits fueled by his rage before the fight was over and he caught it in his thermos.
He turned to look at Sam and Tucker and he flew forward a couple steps before he was being shot square in the back. He hissed and looked behind him to see his mom still aiming her weapon at him.
“Wait!” Sam ran forward and put herself between Danny and Mrs. Fenton.
“Sam!” Maddie shouted at her. “Get out of the way! We need to capture him!”
“No, he just-”
“Jack, do you have a shot?” Maddie called, looking in his direction.
“No! The kids are in the way!”
Maddie snarled. Dash watched Danny recoil. “If you don’t move-”
Danny started flying away. Maddie aimed her gun at him again but he turned invisible before she could take another shot. She shouted into the empty air and threw her gun down. She glared at Sam and Tucker.
Maddie walked up to them. “Are you aiding the ghost kid?”
They looked between each other, shock on their faces. “No.” Sam said. “The ghost was going to attack us. Phantom was just trying-”
“To win you over.” Maddie hissed out. “He’s nothing but a manipulator and an evil ghost. He doesn’t really care about whether or not you get hurt. He’s just doing it to fulfill his own needs.”
Sam took a step back at Maddie’s words. Tucker grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Dash could tell that her words upset them. Unsettled them. He’d never seen Mrs. Fenton talk to someone like that before. Let alone Danny’s friends.
Danny walked up behind him, his arm brushing against Dash’s.
“We can’t tell them.”
Dash looked at Danny sharply. “What? I thought you were going to-”
He shook his head. “It would be nice for them to know, but would it just put them in danger? All I did was push them out of the way of that attack and my mom’s accusing them of aiding and abetting me.”
Dash looked back up at where Maddie was stomping away from Sam and Tucker. Their shocked expressions turned to look at Danny and Dash.
“What would she do if they knew and they were really helping me?” Danny whispered.
Dash shook his head. “I.. I don’t know.”
Danny turned his head to look up at Dash. “We can’t tell them.”
“Okay. We won’t tell them.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Get back here, ghost scum!”
Dash ran behind Danny’s parents as they chased him through the air. Of all the things to be giving them the most grief these days, it was Danny’s parents.
Let’s tear him apart molecule by molecule.
We have to have some remains to examine.
I wonder what his insides look like.
Let’s tear him up and find out.
They were relentlessly hunting Danny every time another ghost attacked. They didn’t even bother with the other ghosts anymore either. They only had their sights set on Phantom. That was all they cared about.
He heard Maddie’s weapon go off again and Dash turned down an alley. He had to somehow get to their rendezvous point before them so that Danny could transform and they could get his parents off his trail.
As he came out of the alley, he saw that Danny had turned around in the air. Dash waved up at him and when Danny caught sight of him Dash ran into the next alley. Dash had his back pressed up against the wall and hid on the other side of some garbage cans when Danny flew into the alley and came to stand next to Dash.
Dash pulled Danny behind him and turned so he was blocking him from being seen from the entrance.
“How close were they?” He whispered.
“Too close.” Danny breathed out heavily, calling on his transformation rings. “They-”
His parents ran around the corner of the alley right as Danny’s transformation finished passing. He had a panicked look on his face. Reaching up, he grabbed Dash’s cheeks and pulled his face down.
Dash’s eyes widened.
“Freeze, ghost scum!”
Understanding dawned on Dash and he wrapped an arm around Danny’s waist and deepened the kiss. Danny carded a few fingers through his hair and then jumped and pulled away, faking surprise as he looked over Dash’s shoulder.
“Danny?” His mom called over in surprise. “Is that Dash?”
Dash tried to turn around sheepishly. “H-hey, Mrs. Fenton.” His voice shook and he hoped she couldn’t pick up on the fear that laced through it.
Jack sniffled. “Maddie, our little boy is turning into a man. I think it’s time we gave him the talk.”
“No!” Danny lifted both hands from Dash and waved them vigorously over Dash’s shoulders. “No talk! I do not want to suffer through that.”
“I didn’t know you two were-” Maddie scratched her chin. “When did you two start dating?”
They looked at each other.
“Today-”
“The beginning of September-”
Danny frowned at Dash and he chuckled.
“Haha, yeah, the beginning of September.”
Danny facepalmed. Maddie’s eyes opened wide.
“You’ve been dating that long already? Why didn’t the two of you say anything?” She gasped and held a hand up to her mouth. “Did you not feel safe talking to us about it? I’m so sorry, if we ever did anything to make you feel unsafe-”
“No, mom. It’s- it’s not that.” Danny stammered. “I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”
Dash looked between Danny and his parents. And the weapons that they were still holding in their hands. Maddie smiled at them.
“That’s okay. We’ll be here when you’re ready.” She lifted her gun to brandish it in both hands again. “Did you two see where that ghost went off to? We were hot on his trail just a minute ago.”
Danny shook his head. “No, sorry. We were, uh, busy.”
“Drat.” Jack snapped his fingers. “He got away again.”
“It’s okay, Jack. We’ll get him one of these days.” Maddie placed a hand on his arm. She turned her head to look back at Danny. “Be sure to be home for dinner. Bring Dash with you if he would like to join us.”
They walked back out of the alley. Danny leaned his head forward and rested it on Dash’s chest, letting out a deep breath.
“That was too close.”
They sat there like that for a little bit. Dash’s hand was still on Danny’s waist. He started rubbing small circles there with his thumb. Danny took another deep breath and pulled away. Dash wilted at the loss of contact.
“Let’s get back to the house.” Danny said quietly. “Unless you want to go home?”
Dash shook his head. “I’ll come back with you. Stay for dinner.”
Danny nodded, relieved. Dash reached a hand up and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.
“Let’s go home.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, Pariah.”
“Yup.”
Danny was slumped in his seat at the kitchen table. His head hung over the back of it and he just stared up at the ceiling.
“Almost died.”
“Yeah.”
Dash played with his pencil that was sitting on the table next to his homework. “At least the ghosts seem to have more respect for you now. You put their terrifying king back into his coffin again.”
Danny nodded.
Dash frowned at him. “Are you okay, Danny?”
Danny looked at him. “Yeah. I just- It’s a lot to process. Like, why did Vlad give Valerie her weapons? Why is he looking for all these artifacts? What is he planning? Why save me? He could’ve just left me there and I wouldn’t be in his hair anymore. He’d be able to kill my dad all he wanted.”
He looked back up at the ceiling. “What does me defeating the king of the ghost zone really mean?”
Dash opened his mouth to respond but realized he didn’t have any input for that. He closed it again and reached a hand over to Danny but jumped, pulling it away when the basement door opened.
“Hey, boys! How are you?” Maddie asked as she came up the stairs from the lab.
“We’re good, Mom. How’s the work going?” Danny looked up at her.
“We’re making a lot of progress on our newest invention!” She walked over to the sink and grabbed a glass and started filling it with water. “We’ll surely get Phantom with this one! It neutralizes a ghost’s powers so it can no longer use them!”
Dash tensed up and he turned his head to look at Danny. Danny’s eyes were wide as he stared at his mom. “Yeah? Wow.”
Maddie nodded. “We’ve got to get him somehow. I think this one will give us a fighting chance. We’re looking to get a more humanoid ghost to examine for our studies and see what makes them different from blob ghosts.”
“What will you do when you get him?” Dash asked with a little shake to his voice. Maddie smiled at him.
“We’re going to cut him open and see if there’s anything to examine inside him. We’re really curious about his core. A blob ghost’s core isn’t strong enough to sustain itself if it’s even slightly damaged, but Phantom’s would no doubt be much stronger. We could head down to the lab and take a look at-”
Dash suddenly stood up from the table, his heart racing at the mention of the lab.
“I have to get going. Curfew, you know?” Dash pointed over his shoulder and then tapped his wrist.
“It’s like five pm.” Danny deadpanned.
Maddie frowned. “That’s too bad. Don’t be afraid to come over more often. We don’t bite. We could even give you a tour of the lab!”
“Haha, that’s okay. I’ve been warned about all the hazards and wastes that are down there. I’m good hearing about it from up here.”
Maddie shrugged. “Suit yourself. But the offer still stands if you ever want to take us up on it one day.” She grabbed her glass of water and walked to the lab door. “Back to it!”
She pulled the door closed behind her and after a minute Danny’s gaze shifted to Dash.
“Curfew?”
“I don’t know!” Dash groaned and covered his face. “It was the first thing I thought of.”
“Knowing your dad, my mom probably believed that he would move up your curfew to some insane time.”
Dash shook his head and closed his eyes. He just… Couldn’t go down there. Even the thought of it brought Danny’s screams back into his mind.
He felt a hand on his arm and opened his eyes. Danny was looking at him.
“You don’t have to go in the lab if you don’t want to. Ever. Even if they’re begging on their hands and knees.”
Dash smiled and patted Danny’s hand. “Thanks. I do think I’m going to head out for the night though. Call me if any ghost stuff happens?”
Danny nodded and stood up to walk Dash to the door. “You know I always do.”
He waved at Danny over his shoulder.
“See you tomorrow.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dash hadn’t heard from Danny for two days. Before, that wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary. But ever since the accident with the portal Dash usually got at least one update from Danny on the whole ghost thing a day.
He was on his way to Fentonworks now. He just… had a bad feeling. He couldn’t describe it. He knew that if he went to check on Danny and didn’t find him, that he could panic a little more reasonably.
He walked up the steps to the Fenton’s front door. He went to knock, but when his fist made contact the first time the door opened slightly. Dash frowned.
Why would they just leave the front door open like that? Were they even home?
Dash pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked inside.
“Danny?” He called into the house. No one responded.
He pushed the door closed behind him and headed towards the stairs. Hopefully Danny would just be sick in his room. He really hoped that was where he’d be.
It was eerily quiet as he walked up the stairs. Fentonworks was always full of life and people any time Dash had been there before. It unnerved him how calm it was.
Dash made his way to Danny’s door. He paused outside it for a moment before he raised his fist to knock.
He waited a second, two, three, but there was no response.
“Danny? I’m coming in.”
He opened the door and swung it open. His heart dropped when he saw that the room was empty. Danny wasn’t here.
He turned back around without closing the door. He walked down the hallway to Jazz’s room and banged on the door, more panicked now.
Jazz must not have been home either because he waited and didn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. He turned around and headed back towards the stairs, pulling his phone out.
He didn’t think he had a choice. He had to tell Sam and Tucker. Maybe they knew something. Maybe Danny told them where he was. He’d start with that, if they’ve heard from Danny at all the past couple days. Then if he had to he’d tell them about Danny being a half ghost. Maybe they would be able to help.
He heard a noise.
Dash’s head whipped towards the kitchen. He slowly walked into the room and turned his head.
Dash saw the open door to the lab. There was a light flickering down there and dread crawled up his throat.
He never wanted to step foot in that lab again.
Dash gulped.
He had to do this. He could go down there again. He had to see if Danny was down there. He had to find him.
Dash walked through the kitchen and into the open doorway. He tiptoed his way down the stairs slowly. He could still turn around. He didn’t have to see what was happening down here.
Dash took a deep breath and took the last step into the lab.
Danny was there, surrounded by his parents. His insides exposed for Maddie to root around in. Dash felt nausea well up inside him.
“What have you done?!”
Jack and Maddie didn’t pay any mind to Dash’s outburst, but he could see Danny stir.
Danny locked eyes with Dash just as his parents touched the glowing orb that sat in his chest with a scalpel.
An explosion erupted from it and Dash covered his face. It sent cracks up the walls and across the floor and the building was trembling. Everything was creaking and debris was raining down from the ceiling.
Danny still lay on the table but his parents were on the floor. He couldn’t tell if they were still breathing or not, but right now he didn’t care.
He ran across the lab to where Danny lay on their dissection table. Danny’s insides were all laid bare to the air. How was Dash supposed to get him somewhere safe?
The house creaked above him and Dash decided that there was no choice. He’d just have to pick him up like this.
Dash scooped Danny up into his arms. He was limp, but he was miraculously still breathing. He turned towards the stairs as the building gave another creak and they caved in. Panic spiked in Dash’s chest. What was he supposed to do? His only way out was blocked. How-
The green glow of the swirling portal caught his eye. He turned his head to look at it. He had no other choice. That was his only way out.
Dash turned his body and started running towards the portal as the rest of the ceiling started collapsing.
He clutched Danny to his chest and dove into the ghost portal.
#gorgi writes#phic phight 2024#danny phantom#dash baxter#danny fenton#swagger bishie#angst#dissection#scalpels#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#phic
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Whenever people who are entrenched in diet culture talk about how terrible chemicals are, I just want to whip out this:
#diet culture#diet culture tw#described images#image description in alt#'it's got CHEMICALS in it' and so do you! and me too! IT'S ALL CHEMICALS ALL THE WAY DOWN#instead of running from this world we must learn to embrace it#i'm not particularly angry at people who say this because it makes me think that they're incredibly invested in diet culture...#...i just don't want the whole 'food = bad' or 'bodies = bad' to go unchallenged...#...part of the reason why diet culture seems just as prevalent now (if not moreso) is partially because it isn't really...#...challenged or questioned without provocation. it's just assumed to be correct because it makes you 'feel in control'#when chemicals are bad you can control what chemicals you consume. it's individualistic and places the blame onto you for 'being good'#it places responsibility onto the person in such a way that it becomes impossible to fulfill#it isn't that i'm upset that people want to treat their bodies in a way they think is responsible...#...moreso that the *way* they go about it ensures that they're stuck in a cycle of self-blame and even self-hatred#because the METHOD is ineffective. not the desire to treat your body well#also the state of ohio looks stupid and i do Not respect it#it looks like a ball that is simultaneously deflated and over-inflated#also their state flag looks silly to me#it looks like the person who was making it fell asleep making it#i'm just clowning on ohio at this point. have never been to ohio but. are you guys okay
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I log off for FIVE HOURS for a my chemical romance concert to afterwards learn that footage from the percy jackson show has dropped???? HECK YEAHHH
#my middle/high school hyperfixations are winning right now#my sensory issues are gonna be so bad tomorrow because that concert has me all burnt out but the music was so good and now I get Percy too??#like I’ve already got a headache but you know what? ABSOLUTELY worth it#10/10 would do again#but definitely need to not do anything tomorrow xD#my chemical romance#Percy Jackson
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listening to my february-june 2022 playlist which led to ⬇️
#oh my god it was sooooo gooooooood#what do you mean there were 12 months. no there weren't. 2022 ended in mid august. perfect year with no bad months at all#anyway i'm thinking about the 2022 that exists in my mind (january-mid august) it was so good#i listened to. so many albums. and got introduced to so much music#specifically down the route of electronic stuff like eurodance and techno and happy hardcore and that#and also down the route of i guess more atmospheric stuff? like shoegaze and dream pop and droney noisy stuff#and then there was. The Hyperfixation. call me bitter bc i was experiencing extreme truffula flu brainrot aHAHAH- *is shot*#one of the hyperfixations of all time. it was so intense it gave me agoraphobia#okay i had agoraphobia anyway but my camp entre obsession did contribute to it a bit#bc it released so many chemicals in my brain it would just give me anxiety#okay but the actual agoraphobia was so weird like what was going on there#i was so scared of eating food that might annihilate my digestive system i just wouldn't eat. and wouldn't leave the house#i mean i did leave the house but only if i had to and i DID NOT enjoy it and i would start zoning out if i was out for too long#and i did eat but it was limited to like. porridge and bread and for some reason sushi. like they were the only foods i didn't fear#what was wrong with me#then i got over it by the summer. like the slight fear comes back sometimes for a few weeks but it'll never be as bad as it was then#my god the summer though. unreal time#july we have such a complicated history but you did a great job in 2022#the swag archive..........the career awakening...........(don't tell my 22yo self trying to apply for archiving jobs is the absolute worst)#(let her have her dream)#omg speaking of the dream. and also swag. the night i found out swag was asexual. wtf. great night#i guess it was a mixture of always being in search of a canonically asexual character that i was interested in since i was 18#like there was todd chavez but i wasn't like Obsessed with him or anything. and i can't think of any other character i knew#and then i find out just as I'm going to bed that the character that has been absolutely obliterating my soul for the past 6 months#is canonically asexual?? so then i didn't sleep for another 2 hours#unreal night#I'm running out of tags but anyway i love you first 8.5 months of 2022 i love you 2nd year of uni i love you camp entre truffula flu#i love you every album i listened to then i love you job i had at that sweet shop i even love you agoraphobia no i don't you were awful#but you were part of the vibe. anyway 2022 jan-aug my beloved#ramble
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tmw you give someone concise instructions but they ✨just do not get it✨
#incoherent rambling in the tags ahoy!!!!! idek where i was going with any of this so… yeah.#so anyways! a bunch of interns will be joining the lab life as of tomorrow and i already do not have high hopes for them#the reason? the school they’re from is kinda infamous in the science industry for churning out incompetent interns.#i know this to be true bc i was one of them many moons ago lmaooooo. that school was kinda… y e a h. y’know?#man… i was a truly horrible intern. i just slept at my desk all day… aside from going to the warehouse to collect chemicals and stuff#though that reminds me of that one kinda incompetent staff member who got me in trouble with one of the managers… freakin’ marvin!!!!!!!!!!!#i’ll never forget how he put the delivery order for some chemicals into the fridge with them for some reason after i left for the day??????#like dude whyyyy i put the things on the proper collection tray!!!!!!! whyyyyy did he have to put ‘em in the fridge???????????#and the manager lady called me out in the middle of the next day’s morning meeting for my apparent incompetence in losing the d. o.?????#i was so confused and 100000% not awake enough for it bc i *knew* i put the things in the correct spot >:(((((#another staff member kinda defended me but the damage was done… screw you marvin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! never forgive#and man. *all* the interns were banned from recording the reception of the chemicals and stuff after that. so gj marvin.#i wonder what that dude’s doing with his life now though… despite all that he was still trusted enough to be a backup shift lead so i?????#but at least he kinda gives me an ego boost. whenever i feel down i remember that a guy like him was put in charge sometimes.#freakin’ marvin… i think he was also the dude who occasionally misplaced labsheets and stuff that local intern me had to hunt down… not fun.#i don’t really remember people and names that easily unless they’re of people i hate so… hm. idk what that says about my opinion of marvin—#i just hope the new interns at my workplace won’t be as bad as the recent incompetent intern… or freakin’ marvin.#that guy will probs be the only one i’ll name and shame bc i last saw him over 3 years ago so the statute of limitations is def over right—#though come to think of it… my intern experience was pretty dumb and pointless. i did make an enemy out of the local microbiologist though—#but ig i’ll try my best to not be too mean to the new interns… i hope they don’t approach me thoughhh. negative social skills ahoy!!!!#i don’t wanna teach them anything either (finally returning to the subject of the post). i still have flashbacks to the incompetent intern—#and i know for sure that they won’t come pre-loaded with any knowledge of the tests here bc i was from their school…#but c’mon new interns!!!!! pls prove me wrong!!!! pls be better interns than i was in the past!!!! pleaseeeeeeee!!!!!!!!#i’m so done with the week already. pls let it end.#sunday’s 🧂saltfest🧂
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❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞
❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞
✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader
✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic?
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n.
✧ wc: 5.3K
It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter.
But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up.
It was him.
You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak.
“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises?
He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers.
“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,”
Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment.
He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,”
And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile.
Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped.
And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,”
And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze.
Fuck.
“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,”
You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—”
“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked.
And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break.
It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?”
He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?”
And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks.
“I would,”
And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile.
Fuck.
“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears.
But how can you be quiet?
The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck.
And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,”
And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass.
He’s huge.
The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.
“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—”
“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,”
“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”
Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?”
And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much.
He was too much.
“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,”
“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,”
“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?”
“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—”
And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns.
He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart.
That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up.
“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—”
“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt.
He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store.
And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—”
“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care.
And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump.
You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.
“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush.
How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,”
“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?”
And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling.
“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.”
~~~~
The two of you had fallen into a pattern.
And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…
You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started.
“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin.
“What are you—”
“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,”
“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type.
“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?”
“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“
“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,”
“Mahito—“
“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money, “be a doll, won’t you?”
Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?”
You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?”
His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice.
“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?
Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you.
“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?”
“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.”
“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling.
This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger.
“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods.
“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot.
“I will,”
“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.
“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip.
“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,”
And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.”
“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze.
No time like the present, right?
“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—”
And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—”
“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,”
“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—”
“Have another lesson?”
And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you.
He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue.
And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt.
Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was.
And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—”
“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,”
“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release.
One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure.
“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you.
“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks.
His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much.
You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light.
And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach.
Your mouth runs dry.
Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought.
Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you.
“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it.
And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze.
His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch.
His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away.
He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—”
And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal.
Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod.
He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out.
“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.
“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!”
And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you.
“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out, “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?”
“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder.
“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him.
Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—”
“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls.
The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt.
“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck.
“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick.
“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again.
God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour.
~~~
The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise.
“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you.
“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.”
You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?”
You were picking up your boyfriend.
He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.”
note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!
tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious
#sab [mlist]#choso kamo x reader#choso x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo fanfiction#choso kamo x you#choso smut#choso x you#choso kamo fanfic#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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I may hate having an overnight work schedule, but there are a lot of positives to it that I cannot deny. I don't really have to work with people, there is so much quiet, and also because I know nobody is going to pick up my shift anyway i can request time off with relatively short notice and they don't care because we all know nobody would pick up an overnight anyway - and also meant job security. Thanks, mental illness, for making it possible for me to be nocturnal for a whole-ass decade so i could survive.
Honestly it wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the potential health concerns and stress caused by having to live against the grain of the rest of society.
My life has the potential for a lot of change in the coming years. I feel like i need to start mentally preparing so i don't end up acting out of fear or not acting out of fear. I must seek happiness! I deserve it I am a good boy with relatively smol dreams and a strong work ethic.
#i have next week off and i constantly have to remind myself when i take time off that i deserve this. i deserve this. i deserve this.#then it becomes a matter of: make it worth it. do something. dont be lazy like always.#then i get overwhelmed and psyche myself out and end up just being on my computer all week and taking One walk#not good. not healthy. but neither is calling out sick every week from exhaustion.#im doing my best#i am challenged every which way and doing my best. i work hard and i wish i worked harder.#my job is a joke i have never really believed in but i have needed it for so many reasons.#capitalism is a prison yall got us all in a chokehold#on that note im going to commit consumerism because it makes the brain chemicals go wooooo#also good luck to me not being inebriated all week! lets get that fresh air baby. lets get that exercise baby. lets cook somethin srsly coo#bitch has been ordering in waaaaaaaaaaay too much. this week is cooking time. i need to find some recipes or something.#watch me cook pasta once and order in like 5 pizzas#if you have read this far what do you want from me i am not providing you anything i am so sorry bb#have a wonderful day
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they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane
That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people
The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'
The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.
I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse
Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.
"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.
He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.
That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV
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Look At Me
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT
Request by @daddy-bucky: one bed trope "with a bit (LOTS & LOTS) of breeding kink."
Summary: Bucky gets exposed to a chemical compound that heightens his already above-average sense of smell. Then he's stuck sharing a bed with the girl he's nearly fucked on more than one occasion.
Warnings: profanity, dubcon (noncon? if you look too close?), slight thigh fucking, unprotected sex, somnophilia, heavy breeding kink, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: This one took me a few days because I got a bit of writer's block around the time the smut started. Thanks to @daddy-bucky for this unhinged request, specifically for the part where you requested that he be feral, apologizing but can't stop himself, and for mentioning that he can smell her ovulating. You are unhinged and I love it.
There are worse things than a mission going sideways. There are worse things than being stuck in a safehouse overnight. There are even worse things than being hunted down by a few thugs from a HYDRA offshoot. But you’re sure that there isn’t anything worse than being shut in with a man that you’ve nearly slept with on more than one occasion.
You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing cold water on your face as you try to come up with a way to make it through the night. You’re a four-hour drive away from the compound, and a five-hour drive away from the nearest SHIELD base. The safest option you had was to head to the closest safehouse and tuck in until morning, with a handful of modern-day HYDRA operatives hot on your heels. You start toweling your face dry and running through all of the mistakes that were made today.
The first mistake was believing that the intel you received about the new HYDRA facility was accurate, without doing the recon yourself. You were told that the facility is empty three days a week, only in operation from Monday through Thursday. That’s why you and Bucky staged your break-in for today, a Friday. Your second mistake was letting Bucky follow you into the lab, instead of having him stay at the door and keep watch. You don’t know what possessed him to take his own look around, to start reading the labels on the various vials located in glass refrigeration units and on benchtops throughout the room. Your third mistake was tucking your gun into your thigh holster while you searched through the lab’s computer, looking for the identification number of one specific compound that you were sent to retrieve. If you hadn’t holstered your gun, you wouldn’t have been caught off guard when a night guard came bursting through the door, pointing his weapon right between your eyes. If you hadn’t holstered your gun, you would’ve been able to shoot the guy yourself. Bucky wouldn’t have shoved you hard enough to send you crashing into one of the little glass refrigeration units in an attempt to get you out of the line of fire, before killing the guy himself. The shot leaving Bucky’s gun didn’t even register in your mind as you watched the glass door shatter and the vials inside shake around on the shelves. As you steadied yourself and shot Bucky an annoyed look, you didn’t notice the vial full of pale pink liquid was the only one that had broken and spilled.
“Are you okay?” Bucky asked gruffly, grabbing you by the forearm and pulling you away from the broken glass. You nodded quickly, feeling perfectly fine after being seconds away from having either a bullet in your head or shards of glass in your skin.
“I’m fine, just help me find the vial labeled 012-6A, so we can get out of here.” You double-checked the ID number on the computer screen one last time as Bucky stepped around you and began rifling through the refrigeration unit that you’d just been shoved into.
Bucky wouldn’t have known that he inhaled enough manganese to cause hyperosmia. He noticed the pink liquid spread over the surface of one of the shelves as he stepped in close and read over the various labels on the vials that were still intact, but he assumed you’d already seen the spill and since you didn’t mention it, it must not have been a big deal. In truth, even if you’d seen it and been able to properly identify it as a manganese compound, you would’ve written it off as being a minor incident. You’d have to be continuously exposed to it, inhaling large quantities of it over time to really be in any sort of major danger. A little sniff in a lab accident wouldn’t send either one of you to the hospital.
However, one of the known side effects of inhaling manganese is significantly increased olfactory perception, or to put it plainly: a heightened sense of smell. You might be able to smell the cleaners used on the lab floors or the wet dirt stuck in the treads of your tactical boots, if you’d inhaled the manganese. But Bucky, already having a heightened sense of smell from the super soldier serum coursing through his veins, would soon be able to smell everything.
After finding vial 012-6A, the two of you were tailed from the moment you left the compound until Bucky started weaving in and out of traffic, doing everything he could to shake the tail. You notified Fury and Sam of the situation and within minutes, you had an address to a safehouse and were on your way.
Bucky carefully folds out the couch bed, watching the thin mattress unfurl before him. It might just be the most uncomfortable looking bed he’s ever seen, but it’s not like he ever sleeps much anyway. You, however, are in for a rough night. Before you went to shower, you found a set of sheets and a quilt tucked away in a closet and set them out. Bucky begins making the bed but something isn’t quite right. As he lays the flat sheet over the fitted one and begins tucking the corners at the foot of the mattress, he starts to wonder why the he can smell the metal springs beneath. The metallic scent is strong, as if he’s pressed his nose right against the springs and inhaled as hard as he could. He stands up straight and sniffs the air, instantly overwhelmed by the plethora of smells circulating in the air. What the hell is going on?
When you emerge from the bathroom a moment later, you find Bucky standing in the middle of the tiny house, running a hand through his hair and looking a bit bewildered.
“Bucky?” You call his name softly, slowly crossing the room and eyeing the bed that he’s made up for you both. He keeps his gaze trained on the floor, not even acknowledging your presence. “Bucky, what’s going on?” You try again.
“Everything smells really strong.” He answers dryly, still not looking up at you. You narrow your eyes at him and start scanning his features, looking for any clues as to what might be going on.
“What do you mean? Don’t things always smell really strong to you?”
“Not like this, this is…I can smell your shampoo.” He says. His blue eyes flit up, meeting your gaze and holding it.
“What did you touch in the lab?” You ask suddenly, already leaping into action. You sit on the side of the couch bed and reach for your bag that sits on the floor, dragging it over to your feet. You rummage around for your laptop, fishing it out as soon as it hits your fingertips.
“I didn’t touch anything.” Bucky promises, shaking his head. He takes a couple of steps back, away from the bed, as if he can’t stand the smell of your shampoo or whatever else he smells on you. You begin typing quickly, working to open a secure video call line to Bruce Banner. “There was a spill, in that fridge I pushed you into.” He remembers, recalling the liquid that was spread over the shelf.
“Did you breathe it in?” You cast him a glance over your shoulder as you sit and wait for Bruce to join the video call.
“No, I mean, I don’t know. There wasn’t an odor, it didn’t feel like I breathed anything in.”
“What color was it?” You ask, already narrowing down the list of chemicals in your head based on the fact that it was odorless.
“Pink, clear.” Bucky answers. He’s rubbing the back of his neck as you wrack your brain. Pink, clear, odorless, hyperosmia-inducing. You have a theory, but you need Bruce to confirm. Your shoulders relax as your mind begins to realize that the chances of the chemical having been life-threatening are very low. There aren’t very many chemicals out there that are known to cause hyperosmia, and the ones that do are really only dangerous in large amounts. Bruce’s face appears on your laptop screen and relief washes over you.
“Hey, I have a few questions for you.” You say kindly, smiling at the scientist that you’ve grown familiar with. Bruce smiles back at you and Bucky catches himself narrowing his eyes and wondering how close the two of you actually are.
“Shoot.”
“There was a spill in the lab, Bucky may have inhaled something odorless, a pink aqueous solution. It’s causing hyperosmia, he says he can smell my shampoo from across the room.”
“More than his usual hyperosmia?” Bruce questions thoughtfully.
“Yes.” You and Bucky both respond in unison. You look over your shoulder at him again and notice how uneasy he looks, how he’s being sure to keep his distance from you. “I’m thinking it’s some sort of manganese compound.” You guess, turning your attention back to Bruce.
“You’re probably right. Just be on the lookout for any symptoms that would suggest otherwise, but if it was a small spill and he only inhaled a minimal amount of vapor from it, I wouldn’t be too concerned. The only worry I would have would be not knowing how manganese might react with the serum, but I can do some research on it and let you know what I find.” Bruce pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and crosses his arms over his chest.
“That’s what I was thinking. We’ll let you know if anything else develops, just send me whatever you find.” After a few more exchanges between the two of you, you end the call and shove your laptop back into your bag. Bucky remains across the room, watching you carefully, like he’s afraid to get too close.
What you don’t know, is that Bucky can’t just smell your shampoo. He can smell you. Your hair, your skin, your everything. You leave him be and head to the tiny kitchen connected to the living room, in search of a glass of water. Bucky inhales deeply through his mouth, trying to avoid smelling anything, but your scent lingers in the air and it’s suffocating. He’s going to have to sleep in the car just to get away from it.
---
“Bucky, you’re not sleeping in the damn car and neither am I. There’s a reason we’re stuck in this safehouse, we’re staying put.” Your tone is stern as you stand blocking the door. Bucky sighs heavily. He knows he could easily move you out of his way, but he also knows he’s treading dangerous waters already. The two of you have always had an indescribable tension, a palpable energy between you. One drunken night a month ago, you nearly fucked. You were drunk, he wasn’t, but he might as well have been with the way he lost his self-control when you leaned into him and rested your hands against his abs. The heated makeout session that ensued was electric, with your back pushed up against a wall in whatever bar the team had been hanging out in that night. The only reason you didn’t go through with it was because the grating sound of John Walker’s voice echoed down the dimly lit back hall right before he turned the corner and saw you pushing Bucky away. Only a week after that, Bucky caught you staring him down in the gym, clearly enjoying the sight of him shirtless and sweating as he threw punches at the bag. An hour later he had your lips against his in the elevator, desperately kissing and licking as much of the skin of your jaw and neck as he could before the elevator reached the main living floor. He would’ve taken you right there if the elevator was any slower. The third and final time was a week and a half ago, when, during an undercover mission, you both seemed to have trouble keeping your hands off of each other. Your covers gave you an excuse to be a little handsy, but continuing to be handsy the entire drive back to the compound wasn’t quite so excused. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the car following you, not until Redwing picked up on it and Sam alerted you both. That was the night you both decided to stop whatever it was that was going on between you. It was dangerous and addictive and it only served as a distraction in the field. So, you stopped it before it ever truly began.
Bucky moves around to the opposite side of the bed, shooting you a moody look before tugging his shirt off and baring his chest. Your eyes drift down to the dog tags that hang around his neck as he starts pushing his pants down his legs. Suddenly he’s standing there wearing nothing but boxers and dog tags, and your mouth is damn near watering.
“You’re sleeping in that?” You ask incredulously, gesturing at his distinct lack of clothing. Bucky chuckles and pulls the sheet and quilt back, sliding under the covers with ease. The thin mattress curves down to support his weight and the springs creak loudly.
“You’re sleeping in that, so you can’t complain.” He mimics your gesture as he refers to your oversized t-shirt and lack of pants. It isn’t your fault. You didn’t have much in your bag, this was never supposed to be an overnight trip. You sigh as you sit on your own side of the bed, turning your back to Bucky. He turns off the lamp beside the couch and the room is cast into darkness.
While you’re sitting on the side of the bed, reminding yourself why the two of you decided to leave each other alone, Bucky’s lying on his back, breathing through his mouth. He can still smell you. The vanilla scent of your shampoo makes him want to bury his face in your hair and inhale as deeply as he possibly can, it smells so fucking sweet.
An hour later, you’re sound asleep next to Bucky, with your back facing him and the sound of your soft, steady breathing filling the quiet space. Every single minute that’s gone by since you slid under the covers next to him has be spent actively trying to ignore the smells in the air. First, all he really noticed was your shampoo. After fifteen minutes of lying next to you, he could smell the lotion you put on your legs that morning. Ten minutes later, he was ready to bust down the damn door to get to the car. He could smell you. Something so distinctive, something that was sending his entire body into overdrive with every breath he inhaled.
Now Bucky lies there, clenching his jaw and covering his face with both hands in an attempt to stifle the scent that he’s trying to pretend isn’t there. He’d have already gotten out of the bed and locked himself in the bathroom, the closet, or even a fucking kitchen cupboard if the bed springs weren’t so damn loud. He can’t make a move that big without waking you up, so he remains frozen. It’s not until Bucky hears you whimper in your sleep that he pulls his hands away from his face and turns his head to look in your direction. Though the scent of your unconscious arousal is affecting him so strongly, the sound you made momentarily redirects some of the bloodflow away from his cock, toward his head. The tone to your whimper was fearful. It escapes your lips again and Bucky watches as you begin to shake beside him. Fuck. Of course you have nightmares. You’re so similar in so many other ways, he should’ve assumed you were plagued the same way that he is.
As your eyes dart back and forth rapidly beneath your closed eyelids, your breathing quickens more and more until your body begins to feel deprived of oxygen. That’s when you wake up, gasping for air, in full fight-or-flight mode. You’re on your side, grasping the quilt in your left hand and desperately searching the darkness around you for anything familiar.
Without thinking, Bucky rolls onto his side and slides his vibranium hand over your hip. Though he can’t feel it, your shirt has ridden up above your thighs and his hand lands partially on the waistband of your panties and partially on your skin. You tense at his touch initially, still trying to figure out where the hell you are, but that touch is something familiar. Your mind latches onto it, and suddenly you’re remembering the last three times you felt it. Vibranium against your skin, his lips on yours, every nerve ending in your body firing at the same time. It’s familiar, so familiar that you relax after a couple of seconds and lean back. Your back brushes against his chest and his grip on your hip tightens a barely noticeable amount as he realizes you’re moving. He doesn’t want you to move back too far and find out that he has a full-blown erection while you’re recovering from a nightmare, but he also doesn’t want to stop you from finding comfort.
“You’re safe.” He whispers close to your ear, taking in the scent of your shampoo once again. His eyes close as the vanilla temporarily covers up the smell that’s been driving him insane for the past hour. “We’re in a safehouse.” He assures you. Your breathing begins to slow and your shaking limbs calm as you move your left hand. You release your grip on the sheets and slide it beneath the covers, running your palm over the crevices of his vibranium hand. So familiar.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” You apologize softly, taking in a shaky breath and flattening your hand over his metal one.
“I wasn’t asleep.” Though you know how he operates in the field, how he likes to be kissed, how infuriating he can be when he insists on doing things his way, you don’t know much about his sleeping habits…or lack thereof. Suddenly, the evening’s mission comes flooding back into your mind. You remember him being exposed to something and experiencing hyperosmia, with you and Bruce only being able to speculate about the chemical he inhaled. You make a move to look over your shoulder at him and when you do, your body almost enough to let your ass make contact with his crotch. He squeezes your hip so hard that you almost peel his vibranium fingers off of you.
“Shit, Bucky.” You speak through clenched teeth as he holds you firmly in place against the mattress. “What are you—”
“Don’t move.” He groans. The tone of his voice is one you’ve heard once before, when you were licking and sucking the skin along the column of his throat in the elevator that day. Instead of listening to his clear command, you try to wiggle an inch or two away from him, as if that would help the situation, but it only makes Bucky’s problem more obvious. His hard cock is straining against the fabric of his black boxers, and as you move your hips once again, it brushes against your ass and you feel it. You feel it and you freeze. “Fuck.” Another groan leaves his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Your nightmare from moments ago is forgotten.
“Is it…is it from what you inhaled earlier? Tell me what you’re feeling.” The words come tumbling out of you with urgency as you grow more and more worried.
“Yeah. No. It’s just—fuck.” Bucky swears again, exhaling quickly and then inhaling through his mouth. “You smell so goddamn good, I don’t know what to do with myself.” You’re both silent, so silent that you can hear the way he’s mouth-breathing just so he doesn’t have to overwhelm himself with your scent.
“Bucky—”
“You saying my name only makes this worse.” His grip on your hip tightens slightly and you try to keep your own breathing shallow, so you won’t be moving even a centimeter more than necessary.
“What can I do to help?” You ask quietly. What can you do to help? Bucky bites his lip. Your question is so innocent, so kind, and yet all he can think about is actually letting you do the one thing that would help him right now.
“Let me sleep in the car.” He sighs. You can tell he’s struggling, you can tell he’s in need, and as much as you hate that he’s in that kind of position, you can’t help but feel a little excited about the fact that he’s in it with you.
“You know why that’s a stupid idea. What else can I do?” While you’re lying there in front of him, offering your help, Bucky’s squeezing his eyes shut as he remembers the taste of your lips and the skillful way that you ran your hand along his thigh in the car after that one mission, letting your fingertips just barely skim over his bulge. He remembers every fucking detail of the way you kiss and the memories paired with the fact that your ass is still pressed against him make him feel as though all control is slipping away from him.
“Remind me why I can’t have you.” His request takes you by surprise. It takes a moment for your mind to gather the words that will give him what he wants.
“We work together.” Three words? That’s all you can come up with? With his cock pressing against your ass, your mind is going on strike.
“We work together.” Bucky repeats. That’s a shit reason, sure as hell not a good enough reason to get him to let go of your hip.
“It’d ruin our working relationship.” You try again, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in.
“It would.” Bucky agrees. Your reasons really aren’t even registering in his mind. He’s loosening his hold on your hip but instead of letting go completely, he starts dragging a vibranium fingertip along the waistband of your panties, almost absentmindedly. Your breath hitches in your throat when his fingertip ghosts over your lower stomach, but he slowly drags it back to your hip. He loves the way your body responds to even the slightest of touches.
“It could end horribly.” You point out, trying to keep your breathing steady as he continues tracing the waistband of your panties.
“It could.” He says with a small nod. Bucky doesn’t think as he leans in and presses his lips against the side of your neck. One kiss. One deep inhale. Another kiss. Another deep inhale. You catch yourself arching your back the tiniest bit, pressing your ass against him more.
“There isn’t a single good reason for us to do this.” It’s the last thing you can think of. Bucky pulls his lips away from your neck and his hand stills on your hip.
“There isn’t. It would be a pretty bad decision.” He acknowledges. That’s when you feel him adjust his legs and grind into you. “We might end up hating each other.”
“We can’t have that.” You tsk, biting into your bottom lip after the words leave your mouth. Neither one of you has enough self-control to separate at this point.
“You can have whatever the fuck you want.”
The soft whimper that leaves your lips at the undeniably filthy sentence he’s just spoken against your ear makes him grind into you harder. He can’t think straight when you make noises like that, when you smell like you do. Fuck. You don’t say a word, so he slides his vibranium hand down your thigh and wraps it around your knee, hitching your leg back and over his own. Once he has you a little more spread and leaning even more into his space, he grinds against you from the new angle. You feel his erection against your clothed cunt and the already wet fabric between your legs gets a little more soaked.
“I thought you just agreed that this would ruin our working relationship.” You whine. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Though you sound like you’re being reasonable, your mind is anything but.
“I’m thinking about ruining something right now.” He grumbles against the side of your neck, nipping at your skin.
“We can’t do this.” You say firmly, reaching your left hand down to pull his vibranium one away from your leg that’s still hitched over his thigh. When your palm glides over the now warm metal, you can’t seem to push his hand away. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and fight to hold in the moans that are threatening to spill from your lips if he keeps grinding against you the way that he is.
“I know, baby, we can’t.” Bucky groans, rutting into you a little harder and faster, as if he’s trying to get just a little more pleasure out of this before it ends.
“We can’t.” You repeat. Why your hand lets go of his and moves to reach over your shoulder and tangle in his hair is beyond you. Why you pull him further against your neck, encouraging him to kiss and lick you even more is lost on you. Why you don’t do a damn thing to stop what’s currently happening can only be chalked up to how badly you’ve wanted him to fuck you since the first time you kissed him in that bar. Bucky doesn’t dare to say a single word more. He isn’t going to risk talking a little too much sense into you. So, he starts sucking on your neck, leaving obvious marks as you whimper and moan out those sweet, irresistible little noises that have him wanting to fuck you ten different ways.
Bucky’s holding onto the tiniest thread of self-control, it’s all he has left, a damn thread. Every single one of his senses is overwhelmed as he grinds himself against your barely clothed body and tastes the skin of your neck.
“We’re not doing this.” Bucky sounds so resolved, but even as he speaks the claim, he’s pushing your leg off of where it was hitched over his own and guiding you onto your stomach. He doesn’t want you on your stomach, fuck no. He wants you in any position where he can see the faces you make when he buries himself inside of you for the first time, when he starts fucking you the way you’ve needed to be fucked for weeks now, when he cums inside of you. But Bucky knows if he has the privilege of seeing your face through all of that, he won’t ever be able to look at you the same way. He won’t ever be able to go back to working with you in the field. It would ruin your working relationship just like you said. So, he makes sure you’re on your stomach when he starts pushing your shirt up and running his palms along the skin of your back. There isn’t a hint of protest from you as your back arches against his hands and your ass raises up ever so slightly. Even as Bucky begins tugging your panties down your thighs, not a damn word.
Your scent. Your fucking scent. As soon as he has your panties halfway down your thighs, he knows why he couldn’t resist you. You’re ovulating, and he can smell it, the pheromones, just radiating off of you.
“Fuck.” Bucky groans headily. He completely abandons his effort to tug your panties any further than your knees as he rolls on top of you and gets his cock in just the right position to slide between your legs. His hard shaft presses against your wet cunt as he lowers himself onto you and lets his length move between your upper thighs. “You’re already so wet, fuck.”
It only takes a second for you to have Bucky’s entire cock soaked with your arousal, and he hasn’t even been inside you yet. You can’t stop yourself from arching your back and pressing your ass up and into him as he teases you, dragging his length back and forth along your cunt but never giving himself the chance to slide in.
“Bucky…” His name leaves your lips as a needy moan and you don’t have to say another word. You don’t have to ask him to do it. He braces himself with his forearms on either side of your head, his knees on either side of your legs, and lets you shuffle your own knees until they’re underneath you enough to raise your ass off of the bed. A breathy whimper escapes you as a shiver runs down your spine.
“If you keep saying my name, I won’t be able to pull out when I need to.” Bucky warns you, just as you feel the head of his cock teasing your entrance. You think he’s about to push in, when he lets his cock slip away from your entrance and run lazily through your folds. He does it repeatedly, letting it rub against your clit over and over again, listening as your breaths come in more and more ragged at the stimulation.
“Shit, you’re right. You’re not wearing a condom.” You point out in a rare moment of clarity. Bucky chuckles and uses one hand to move your hair away from your neck, before leaning down as pressing a kiss there. You push your forehead into the pillow, muffling the soft moan that you can’t hold back.
“I’m not wearing a condom.” Bucky repeats, as if he means to say that he wouldn’t wear one even if he happened to have one.
“You’re not wearing a—” You’re cut off by Bucky thrusting half of his length into you so suddenly and forcefully that the rest of your sentence disappears from your mind entirely and your hands move to grip his wrists beside your head. You dig your nails into him without realizing as your muscles tense and you press your face into the pillow once again.
“That’s it, get used to it.” Bucky encourages you. It’s such a simple thing to say yet it sounds so filthy coming from him in this moment. It is filthy. He takes a moment for himself, focusing on how tightly your pussy is gripping the first few inches of his cock, how your arousal is basically dripping down his shaft as he lets you adjust to him. That little thread of self-control he was holding onto earlier has frayed more and more and he can’t stop himself from forcing the rest of himself inside of you, until his balls are pressing against you and you’re screaming into the pillow.
“It’s too much, oh my god, it’s too much.” You moan out as you lift your face from the pillow and rest your chin on it instead. You don’t dare to try and look over your shoulder at him, you can barely move without feeling the sting of his cock stretching your entrance.
“No, no it’s just an adjustment.” Bucky coos, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck and inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of your hair. “You’re taking it so well already, just relax for me.”
Your body listens to him. You feel yourself relaxing. First, your hold on his wrists eases until you’re no longer leaving nail marks in his skin. Then, you let out a deep exhale and sink into the mattress beneath him. Bucky’s in awe of you. He knows he’s big, and he knows it’s probably been a while since you’ve slept with anyone with the way work keeps you busy near 24/7. You really are taking him so well. He starts dragging his length out of you slowly, but only a third of the way before he’s pushing it back into you again. The wet sound that results makes him fucking feral. He does it again. Then again. And again. The next thing he knows, he’s holding your hips with your ass up in the air and your face down on your folded forearms as he fucks you so hard that the springs of the couch bed are threatening to snap. With every loud creak of the springs, there’s an equally loud sound of skin smacking against skin. It’s animalistic, the way he’s fucking you.
“Fuck, I’m so close.” You whimper. You bite into your forearm, surely leaving a mark, as he sets a tortuously pleasuring pace. You can feel him reaching a spot inside you no one has ever reached before and it has your eyes rolling back in your head.
“I know, fuck.” Bucky says breathlessly. He pounds into you over and over again, chasing his own release as he feels the walls of your pussy fluttering around him. You’re right there and he can tell. “Cum on my cock, so I can pull out and cum all over your fucking back.” He groans, sounding so damn needy. You can’t think straight. You’re definitely not thinking straight. That’s the only reason you say what you say next.
“No, I’m not cumming if you’re going to pull out.” You say defiantly, actively fighting to hold back your orgasm. Bucky thrusts into you even harder, letting you know that he most definitely likes the sound of not pulling out. He leans down until his chest is pressed against your back and he’s close enough to whisper against your ear.
“You’re going to make me cum inside you when you’re fucking ovulating?”
“How do you—”
“I can fucking smell you.” He rasps against your ear. “Answer me. You really want me to do this?”
You don’t even take a moment to think about it, not a single moment to consider the possible consequence.
“Please.”
It’s only a few hard, deep thrusts later when Bucky’s rhythm grows sloppy and he gives you every single drop of cum he has, fucking it all into you almost recklessly. With every last thrust into your cunt, he’s fully aware that he could be getting you pregnant. He’s fully aware, and yet, he doesn’t have a single fuck to give.
---
It’s the smell of your arousal mixed with his cum, dripping out of you and into your panties, that wakes Bucky around midnight. It’s only been a couple of hours since he was buried deep inside of you but it feels like it could’ve been days ago with how hard his cock is right now. He reaches beneath the covers, palming his erection through the fabric of his boxers as he listens to your steady breaths. You’re sleeping so soundly beside him, with your back turned to him and the covers pulled up just past your waist.
A few key thoughts run through Bucky’s head as he lets his hand run along his clothed length. How serious is this to you? Have you wanted him as badly as he’s wanted you since that night in the bar? Is it just physical for you? A surface level attraction that you momentarily gave into because he was horny and shoving his cock against your ass in a shared bed? But you let him cum inside of you, while you’re ovulating. When your body is fully ready and capable of beginning a pregnancy, you let him pump an entire load into you without a hint of hesitation. You didn’t just let him, you said please. Bucky’s suddenly pushing his boxers down his thighs for the second time tonight, wrapping his fist around his length, and rolling over to face you.
He doesn’t think there’s ever been a better scent than the one emanating from between your legs right now. He can picture the way his cum is swirled together with your arousal right now, probably threatening to soak through the thin fabric of your panties and drip down the soft skin of your thighs until it reaches the bedsheets beneath you. It’s that thought that spurs Bucky on, that makes him tug your panties to the side and press a gentle kiss to the side of your neck as he guides his cock between your legs. The moment he feels the warmth of his own cum from earlier drip from your folds to coat his shaft, he starts mumbling against your skin.
“I need you.” He whispers into your neck, fighting the urge to bite into your skin as the head of his cock notches inside of you and begins to slide in. “Wake up.” Your eyes flutter open just as the head of his cock has fully entered you and the rest of his shaft is following. A raspy swear escapes your lips as your back arches and you start to tense up at the sudden intrusion. Bucky’s vibranium hand flies to your hip, stilling you as he continues pushing in.
“Oh my god.” It’s all you can say as he bottoms out inside you and immediately starts pulling his hips back. He sets a much slower pace than last time, rhythmically fucking you sideways. “I’m sore.” You whimper, turning your head slightly to muffle your moans in your pillow, just like you did earlier.
“I’m sorry, I know.” Bucky groans against your neck, continuing to thrust in and out of you. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He can’t stop. He can’t make his hips still, he can’t pull out of you and let you recover. He just fucking can’t. He fucks you as gently as he can, using his own cum from earlier as lube. With every slow thrust, your soreness dissipates more and more and pleasure begins to replace it. When he cums inside you the second time, it’s without warning, without one single worry about pulling out. He just does it and expects you to take it…which of course, you do.
---
You wake up two hours later, with aching thighs and the slightest hint of a burn on your neck from Bucky’s scruff. As you lie there in the darkness, listening to the sound of Bucky breathing softly mere inches behind you, feeling the excessive amount of cum pooling in your panties, you only seem to be able to think about one thing. Both times that he’s fucked you, he did it from behind. You didn’t get to see his face once. Not once did you get to see how he reacted when he felt the walls of your pussy clenching around him, the face he made when you told him you didn’t want him to pull out, or the way his eyes screwed shut and his mouth fell open when he was cumming. You’ve been deprived of it.
Why does it bother you so much that he hasn’t looked in your eyes either of the two times he’s fucked you? Is he trying to pretend you’re someone else? As tears begin to rim the edges of your eyes, you tell yourself that you’re just being emotional because you’re ovulating. God. You wouldn’t have even known you were ovulating if he hadn’t told you himself.
Truthfully, you’re not even horny. Yet, you find yourself rolling over as quietly as possible, making sure the bed springs don’t creak beneath you. You’re silent as you tug your panties down your legs and toss them onto the floor. You’re even more quiet as you pull the covers back just enough to let you stealthily straddle Bucky’s hips, making sure you don’t touch him yet. Who knew this is what you’d be using all of your professional training for?
He begins to stir when your fingertips graze over his lower stomach. He draws in a deep breath as you tug his waistband down and free his already hard cock from the confines of his boxers. His eyes are blinking open, studying the sight before him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and stroke it firmly. That’s when he comes to his senses and his gaze lands on your face.
“Shit.” He breathes out as you sink down onto his length with determination. Your face. He can see your face. The way your features contort as you try to fit all of him in at this new angle is ruining him. This is exactly what he didn’t need to see, so he tries to talk some sense into you. “You’ll be too sore if we do this again, three times is too many.” Bucky says quietly, running his hands up your thighs to grab onto your hips. You’re only an inch from being fully seated on his cock when he holds you still, not letting you slide down any further. He doesn’t want it, you think. What man tries to stop a girl when she’s already sitting on his dick? He just wanted to fuck you in the dark, with your face invisible to him, and then he wanted to be done with you. Tears well up in your eyes a little more and you dare to look down at him. His gaze coasts from where you’re both connected, up the front of your t-shirt, to your face. That’s when he sees the watery layer over your pretty irises.
“Just let me do this.” You plead, pushing his hands away from your hips and taking in the last inch of his length. Bucky inhales sharply and screws his eyes shut as your tight, wet cunt envelopes his cock completely. He can’t deny you. He can’t deny you, so it’s his turn to fist the sheets as you start moving your hips. You alternate between sliding up and down the entirety of his length and grinding in deep, slow circles when he’s fully sheathed inside you. Even as a tear falls from your face and lands on his bare chest, he doesn’t open his eyes.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m already so close.” He groans, lifting his hands and covering his face with them. He wants nothing more than to roll you over and fuck you missionary. He wants to rail you into the mattress until its deformed and concaved to fit your body. He wants to pin you down and look into your eyes as he fills you for the third time.
“Look at me.” You whisper, moving your hips a little faster. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Bucky groans beneath his hands, and reluctantly removes them from his face, resting them on your thighs once more. His eyes focus between your legs again, but after a couple of seconds his lifts his gaze to meet yours.
“How do you still look so damn pretty after taking my cock the first two times?” He asks with a pained groan. You know he can’t possibly have much to give you after the first two times, but you’ll be damned if you’re not going to take what you can get. You start bouncing on his cock with increasing desperation, chasing your own orgasm. “You even look pretty with tears in your eyes.” He says with a softer tone.
Right as Bucky nears the edge, you feel his cock twitching, you feel his abs tighten beneath your hands, and you lean down. Your nose brushes against his and for a second, you think about kissing him.
“You know why I didn’t want to see your face?” He asks, his ability to form a complete sentence surprising even him. He pushes your hair back, cupping your cheeks in his hands as you continue riding his cock. “Because I knew I’d memorize the way you look when you’re stuffed full of my cock, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at you the same way again.”
“So you were okay with potentially getting me pregnant but not with looking me in the eye?” You ask incredulously, your hips slowing. Bucky groans and thrusts up into you impatiently.
“Don’t talk about being pregnant, fuck.” He thrusts up again and a smile plays on your lips. His hands move from your face down to your waist as he starts setting a pace.
“Bucky, you fucked me raw. You came inside me twice. I’m probably halfway to pregnant right now and you’re about to do it all over again. We can’t talk about it?”
In the blink of an eye, Bucky’s rolling you over, making sure his cock stays inside of you as he lays you on your back and immediately starts thrusting into you.
“Fine.” He grunts, pushing your thighs up to your chest and draping your legs over his shoulders. He buries himself in you deeper and deeper with every snap of his hips. “I’ll look you in the eye right now while I make sure you’re so full of my cum that there’s no fucking way you aren’t pregnant. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck yes.” You moan out as he pounds into you. Within seconds, you’re a panting mess on the couch bed and Bucky’s staring down at you with a passionate, determined look in his eye.
“Look at me when I’m cumming inside you.” He commands. “Look at me when I’m getting you fucking pregnant.”
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Ancient Vampire Partner as a Service Top Headcanons
Warnings: Pure smut. Mentions of death, blood, violence. No gender specified, but reader do get periods. Implication of abusive relationship.
Author's note: I wrote an extensive introduction to this post, but then I realised that was mostly me rambling. So I decided to get straight (and kinda gay) to the point. Shall we?
Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Here's my take on how I think the sexual dynamic between a human and their ancient vampire lover would go:
Your ancient vampire partner knew they had to be gentle and careful with you. Much like us when carrying a newborn puppy, they were aware of how easily your bones could break if they got too excited. Since sex for them was now more of an echo from their human days and not a survival need, they were ok with going without sex for long periods of time, perhaps waiting until you were ready to be turned. For now, they thought it was safer to wait.
You, on the other hand, were very much not ok with this. You were human, your body evolved to make happy chemicals from sex. As if that wasn't enough, the main survival strategy of your partner's species was looking hot as fuck to lure humans, getting their thoughts so clouded by lust that they'd ignore the stone cold touch, the sharp fingernails, the bluish hue of their skin and the sharpness of their teeth. Your whole body went crazy just by looking at them.
They knew you couldn't help it. So, whenever you were needy and in the mood, they didn't mind putting you on their lap, back against their chest, and touch you until you've had enough. They loved being able to make you feel good, whispering on your ear while playing with your body:
"What do you want to try today?"
"Do you want me to get one of our toys?"
"Does it feel good like this?"
"Is this intensity enough?"
In the days you desperately needed to feel them inside of you, they ignored their own desire while watching you ride them mesmerised, gently guiding your hips up and down while kissing and caressing whatever part of your beautiful, soft and warm body they could reach. God, how pretty you looked with your eyes out of focus, using their body to get off and scratch that itch.
And when you were too tired they gladly took the lead, paying attention to your every reaction, focusing on how to serve you better:
"Hold my shoulders tight so I can reach deeper without hurting you, ok?"
"Slow and steady, precious, or you'll be tired before we can have the amount of fun you deserve."
"Here, it will feel even better if you touch yourself too."
But they were far from being selfless. The moment you got your period they morphed into a feral and self-serving beast, unable to control themselves any more than a hungry lion would if near a trapped deer. This was one of the very few times they could feed off of you and they were not letting all this food go to waste.
You'd get properly cushioned in a comfortable position, a heating pad on your lower belly, your legs on their shoulders and they would lick you clean. Prepare to be there for a while, no amount of begging would make them let you get up until they're finished. Of course you always tried to. Every time this happened, they'd first try to convince you with love and praises, but their tone got increasingly more authoritative and mean until you couldn't recognise your lover anymore.
"My baby, you taste so good."
"How can you be so good to me, my little angel?"
"Can't you hold on just a bit more? Please? For me?"
"Oh, you're being tortured with too many orgasms? You poor thing, that sounds so terrible."
"Pretty, you're not getting up. Don't think that you have a choice just because I'm trying to be nice."
"Maybe if I show you how painful I can make it you'll realise how good you're having it stop being such a whiny ungrateful brat. You want this, my baby? You want me to hurt you? So don't make me hurt you."
In the end they'd kiss your whole weak body and your puffed teary face while begging for your forgiveness. They'd say they don't deserve you, they are a monster, they just don't know how to control themselves when you smell like this and they were so hungry. You'd be pampered: a hot bath, body massage, your favourite food, that thing you've been eyeing for so long but was way too out of your budget.
They'd do just about anything you ask for. Anything but promise not to do it again.
#vampire#vampire x reader#vampire x human#monster imagine#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#vampire smut#monster fucking#monster smut#oc x reader#vampire boyfriend#vampire girlfriend#service top#pleasure dom#vampire headcanons
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Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)
Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?
Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.
Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?
Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.
Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?
Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the work—no PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.
Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.
Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.
Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?
Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.
Bruce: Cass?
Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.
Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.
Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.
Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.
Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.
#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#red robin#damian wayne#robin#duke thomas#signal#stephanie brown#spoiler#cassandra cain#orphan#barbara gordon#oracle#batfamily#batfam#batboys#batbros#batgirls#batkids#batsiblings#batman family#incorrect batfamily quotes#incorrect quotes#incorrect dc quotes#dc comics
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flipped 2
ingrid x mapi x reader
fluff + angst. r and mapi try to get to the bottom of what's going on with ingrid.
wasn't positive i was going to write this but anything for @sunnyaelia
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When Ingrid woke, she didn’t open her eyes right away. She was much too comfortable, a soft blanket draped over her body, her face pressed comfortably into Mapi’s sweatshirt. She could feel your hands on her back, slipped up under the shirt you’d pulled on her. Your hands were smoother than Mapi’s, mindlessly stroking up and down. She could hear you both talking quietly, too, and the sounds of your voices were like some kind of soothing drug. You were mostly just talking about nothing, but a question Mapi posed caught her attention.
“How does your head feel?” She asked softly, brushing some hair back away from your forehead.
Honestly, it didn’t feel good. It was pulsing with a headache that you knew was from exerting yourself too much, from the rush of endorphins and chemicals in your brain. The pressure inside your skull was intense, and though it wasn’t very pleasant, you didn’t mind much. Not if the cause had made your girlfriend this relaxed in Mapi’s arms.
“Okay.” You lied, not wanting to draw attention away from Ingrid for even a moment.
“How does your head feel?” Mapi asked again, frowning this time as she could tell you weren’t telling the truth.
“It’s been better.” You allowed, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Mapi gently running a finger over your forehead.
“Amor,”
“How is your knee?” You countered. Mapi rolled her eyes.
“Do not change the subject. You should have told me it was bothering you.”
“I was fine. Ingrid needed this. It’s worth it, if she feels better.” You argued back. Mapi had a hard time coming up with a dissenting response, because honestly, she’d do almost anything to make Ingrid feel better, too. Instead, she turned her attention to the woman draped over her, her lips pulling into an involuntary smile at the sight.
“She looks relaxed.” Mapi murmured, taking in the perfection of Ingrid’s face, a perfection she never got tired of looking at.
“I’m worried she’s going to go back to how she was before when she wakes up. Acting like she’s fine, running herself into the ground. It’s a miracle she hasn’t picked up an injury yet, María, we can’t let her go on like this.”
Mapi hummed her agreement, and Ingrid felt her heart clench. It wasn’t her intention to make you guys worry, really the opposite. She wanted to take care of everything possible so that neither of you had to worry. She wanted to play so well, it instilled confidence in the team that the back line was secure. She wanted to be a leader. She wanted to be dependable. She wanted to be perfect, perfect for both of you.
The realization that she hadn’t been able to do this for you stung, and she felt tears welling in her eyes before she could do anything to stop it. Both you and Mapi noticed her stiffen slightly, and the way her eyes scrunched together told you all you needed to know. Before either of you could speak, Ingrid was forcing her eyes open, a devastated green looking up at you.
“I’m sorry I’ve been worrying you,” she whispered, her forehead creasing with sadness.
“You don’t need to say sorry for that, amor.” Mapi promised.
Ingrid shook her head, biting her lip as it trembled, so hard she almost seemed angry with herself for crying. “No, you both have more important things to worry about than me, I’m okay.”
“We have nothing more important to worry about than you, Ingrid. Nothing. Don’t say stuff like that because it isn’t true.” You said, unable to hide how upset her statement made you, and wondering how you and Mapi had messed up so badly that Ingrid was so convinced that she wasn’t important. “You are the most important thing to us.”
The pure disbelief on Ingrid’s face felt like a bullet through the heart. The Norwegian always came across as so confident, so sure of herself. This façade tricked the whole world into thinking she believed it, and it had tricked the two of you too. This realization stunned you into silence, briefly, a silence that Ingrid frantically tried to fill.
“No, no, you’re both hurt. I need to take care of you, I need to make sure you both are okay. Let me up, please, María, I need to get her some ice for her head.” Ingrid sniffled, fighting the tight embrace Mapi’s arms had her in. The Spaniard shook her head firmly, but looked at you with concern.
“Love, I’m okay, I promise you.” You implored.
“You need me.” Ingrid repeated brokenly.
Slowly, you nodded, eyes searching her pained expression. “I do need you. I always need you. You need us too, though. Can you let us take care of you?”
“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she began, only growing more teary eyed when Mapi cut her off.
“Stop, amor, stop lying. You said earlier you feel the most stressed you have ever felt in your life. Forgot about my knee for a minute, forget about her head. We are okay, but we need you to be okay too. It’s okay for you to need us.”
Ingrid shook her head rapidly. “No. I can’t need you.”
“Why not, princesa?” Mapi asked, in a soft tone of voice she reserved for you and Ingrid. Her gaze was beyond gentle as she regarded the Norwegian women, one tattooed hand cradling a freckled cheek.
“I can’t need you because you both deserve so much better than me, I don’t deserve to be loved by you.” she said quietly, rushing the words out as if they’d been swirling around in her head for some time. She missed the anger that flashed across Mapi’s face, but you didn’t. You felt the same way, honestly. You wanted to seek out whatever had made her feel like this, but you had a feeling that the trail would just lead you back to her. Perfect, beautiful, kind Ingrid. You couldn’t shout the insecure part of her away, it wouldn’t work. So, you rested a hand on Mapi’s shoulder to calm her, but it seemed that she had reached the same conclusion that you had.
“Mi princesa,” she whispered roughly. “I could spend 100 lifetimes loving you and it wouldn’t be enough. I do not care what you think I deserve. I love you. I want you. You do not need to earn my love, mi princesa. You have it. Always. For the rest of your life, for the rest of time. You just have it.”
Ingrid pushed her face into Mapi’s sweatshirt, her tears quietly soaking into the soft fabric. She looked so unlike herself, all broken and small. She clearly craved the reassurance, but was terrified to accept it.
You swallowed thickly, running your hand through her thick hair in an effort to get her to look at you. She didn't look up, but you spoke anyway. “Ingrid, where is this coming from? Did we do something to make you feel like this?”
Her voice was muffled but still audibly distraught when she replied. “No, I know you love me. I know you want me. I just… I don't always understand why. All I can see are my flaws, all the things I do wrong, and I hate myself for them. If I let you take care of me… you’ll see them too.”
It was so absurd, you wanted to laugh. You didn’t, though. You just took a deep breath, thinking that the agonized expression on Mapi’s face probably matched yours right now.
“Ingrid… I don’t know what flaws you see in yourself. You are as close to perfection as I have ever seen a person get.” You rolled your eyes at Mapi’s slight pout at your statement. “Anything you consider to be a flaw… it's miniscule in the scale of how much we love you. We want you to need us. You don’t need to be completely put together all the time. You don’t need to suffer by yourself just because you deem your stressors insignificant in comparison to ours.”
“Amor, you can always lean on us. Even if my knee is fucked. I don’t need two working legs to take care of you. There is no flaw, nothing in the world that you could do that would make us not want you. That would make us see you any differently than we do now. You are ours. That will never change, mi amor, never.”
You were startled to see tears welling in Mapi’s eyes, but you understood. It was painful to see someone you loved so much feel so awful, and keep it from you. It was painful to realize you’d missed something because you were too wrapped up in yourself to pay enough attention and realize what was going on sooner.
“We have to do better, sí? It is not enough to tell you that we love you. We have to remind you of why, and we will, mi princesa, I promise you We will.” Mapi whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and holding a quiet promise, one that was clear to Ingrid. And really, if anyone could fix this horrible way of thinking she knew she shouldn’t engage in, it would be the two of you.
“Tomorrow is Ingrid day.” You declared. “We’ll do whatever you want. We’ll spend the whole day telling you what we love about you, if that’s what it takes.”
Ingrid let out a choked laugh, allowing Mapi to gently wipe her tears off her face. “I just want to stay here. And lay with you both. Can we do that?” She asked shyly.
“Of course we can.” María smiled. “Whatever you want, princesa, I mean it.”
Ingrid turned her attention to you, allowing some worry to creep back into her gaze. “I want you to rest tomorrow, too.”
“I will, if that makes you happy.” You promised, smiling softly at her, a smile she returned.
“You both are perfect.” She said, looking between the two of you like she couldn’t quite believe her luck.
“Then you are perfect, too. Beautiful.” Mapi leaned up to press a kiss to Ingrid’s lips, murmuring each word in between kisses. “Kind. Hardworking. Perfect, amor. So perfect.”
You were glad to see the blush on Ingrid’s cheeks, knowing that it meant you’d both gotten through to her, at least a little bit. The Norwegian settled her face into Mapi’s neck, her hand reaching out to twist into your shirt and pull you closer. You fit in next to them so easily. You always would, and so would they. Because maybe you weren’t all actually perfect. You were, however, perfect for each other.
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this was physically painful to write for no reason and it's short but the words were not flowing. it's done now though and i hope you all like :)
#ingrid engen x mapí leon#mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen x reader#mapi leon x reader#woso one shot#woso fanfics#woso imagine
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I LOVE YOUR WRITING OMG ITS SOO GOOD !! 🤍🤍
i wanted to req doing a skincare routine w gojo, like asking him to lay down so you could do it. if that makes sense 😭😭
(i thought it would be so cutee !! pref a fem reader)
NIGHTS LIKE THESE
↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader
Satoru just enjoying getting pampered by his wife.
[ Note ] : ahhh u are so very kind 😖💗 i lovee the idea of skincare w gojo sm!! he deserves to be pampered like a royal puppy
He's all for it when you suggest doing a skincare routine on him. I mean, laying down and letting your soft hands work out the tension in his face with some nice smelling products? Yes, please. That's exactly what he needs on a Friday night after teaching martial arts to his students all day.
"What's this?" he asks for each product in your hands. He doesn't eye them out suspiciously, he just accepts whatever you're putting on his face.
He's in this love-ditzy state tonight... oh, maybe it's just the strong blossom scent flooding in through the windows putting him in that state.
"This is a face mask... I'll put it on, then peel it off in fifteen minutes..." you're murmuring slowly, voice soft as you focus on smearing the sparkly gelatinous liquid over the curve of his cheek."
"Mmm..." he hums in acknowledgement to what you said, eyes closing.
His hair is put out of the way by a pink makeup headband; it's the one he bought for you at the beginning of the year, that Sailor Moon one. It just has a crescent moon on the center.
Satoru wiggles his feet and rests his finger-locked hands on his stomach, relishing in the attention you're giving him.
There's a serene silence as you apply the face mask with carefulness — you're trying to make it that perfectly rounded mask.
"... you're so gentle." Satoru comments, smiling to himself. "It's nice... getting pampered by my pretty wife. I think this is the meaning of life." he says in a low rasp. You can hear how tired he is after teaching all day in the hot sun.
"What, the meaning of life is... getting a face mask put on you?" you chuckle.
"Being with you." he replies.
You soften your brows and look down at him with love. He's still got his eyes closed so he can't see your loving look. It's okay. He can feel your love radiating.
"Well aren't you sappy..." you tease. He smiles.
He knows he's sappy, but you like it, don't you? And he means it. His meaning of life is being with you.
"I'm done, by the way."
"OOH let me see."
He checks his reflection in his phone camera, and you know snaps a picture with you while he's at it. You complain that he's gotten your bad side, and that he has to take it again, but he's giggling like a mischievous kid.
You sigh and look at him. "Of course... of course you look good in a face mask."
"Uhhh yeah duh I look good in everything." he responds cockily, then adds, "... you look good in everything, too."
"Ah shut it!" you giggle, and the sound makes his heart lurch.
"Mmm, it's true." he leans in, giving you a lopsided kiss, "Thank you, baby. Anyways... this stuff smells so good... is it edible?"
"No, it's not. So don't eat it."
He eats a little to mess with you. Then scrunches his whole face at the chemical taste.
"Satoru why are you like this." you shake your head. "Anyways... I'll cut some cucumbers for your eyes." you say, turning to the tiny cutting board that you put on top of a pillow.
"Yay, cucumber time." he says like a five-year-old. "It's not bigger than mine, is it?" he eyes out the cucumber you're taking into your hands.
"Satoru!" you laugh scoldingly.
He lets you cut the cucumber in peace, not wanting to talk in case he distracts you. But the way he stares at you, with his fists tucked under his chin and that star-struck look in his eyes, he distracts you anyways, and you nearly slice your finger.
Satoru's a different kind of beautiful. That's apparent from the first time you meet him, but you realize it during times like this; when you're snuggled up in your dim-lit bedroom. The clear face mask glitters a bit, you can see it drying.
"Don't touch it. It's drying."
"Sorryyy."
You shake your head at him. Then you catch him trying to touch his face again.
"Ooh, I can feel the little stars in it."
"Satoru, let it dry. Lay back. I'm covering your eyes..."
"... ooh, kinky."
You sigh, he smiles — he's so happy that he can be an absolute idiot around you and yet you still love him. How'd an obnoxious idiot like him get a tender, loving woman like you? I guess, 'cause he's god's favorite, I mean... with the Six Eyes and Limitless bestowed on him, of course he'd be sent an earth angel too, just to protect his sanity. You're very much his sanctuary, the refuge he seeks when responsibility whips his back.
The soothing cucumber slices cover his eyes now.
Laying and letting you pamper him like this makes him feel so at peace, he's becomes drowsy, and soon falls asleep. Soft snores sound from him. He's so utterly soft and gentle while he sleeps, you wouldn't think he's the strongest.
You decide to not wake him, and just peel the face mask off him gently once the fifteen minutes passes.
He just sleeps like a baby while you finish the routine. A soft, radiant glow adorns his cheekbones. His chest rises and falls like a calm tide.
That's your husband; a hyper, sleep-deprived, overworked and overburdened man who lives for the nights you do these sweet things with him.
© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
#fluff#gojo#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#cute#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader
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It's interesting to me how much people struggle to intuit differences of scale. Like, years of geology training thinking about very large subjects, and I'm only barely managing it around the edges.
The classic one is, of course, the mantle- everybody has this image of the mantle as a sort of molten magma lake that the Earth's crust is floating on. Which is a pedagogically useful thing! Because the intuitions about how liquids work- forming internal currents, hot sections rising, cool sections sinking, all that- are all dynamics native to the Earth's mantle. We mostly talk about the mantle in the context of those currents, and how they drive things like continental drift, and so we tend to have this metaphor in mind of the mantle as a big magma lake.
The catch, of course, is that the mantle is a solid, not magma. It's just that at very large scales, the distinction between solids and liquids is... squirrely.
When cornered on this, a geologist will tell you that the mantle is 'ductile'. But that's a lie of omission. Because it's not that the mantle is a metal like gold or iron, what we usually think of when we talk about ductility. You couldn't hammer mantle-matter in to horseshoes or nails on an anvil. It's just a rock, really. Peridotite. Chemically it's got a lot of metal atoms in it, which helps, but if you whack a chunk of it with a hammer you can expect about the same thing to happen as if you whacked a chunk of concrete. Really, it's just that any and every rock is made of tons and tons of microcrystal structures all bound together, and the boundaries between these microcrystals can shift under enormous pressure on very slow timescales; when the scope of your question gets big enough, those bonds become weak in a relative sense, and it becomes more useful to think of a rock as more like a pile of gravel where the pebbles can shift and flow around one another.
The blunt fact is, on very large scales of space and of time, almost everything other than perfect crystals start to act kind of like a liquid- and a lot of those do as well. When I made a study of very old Martian craters, I got used to 'eyeballing' the age based on how much the crater had subsided, almost exactly like the ways that ripples in the surface of water gradually subside over time when you throw a rock in to a lake. Just, you know. Slower.
But at the same time, these things are more fragile than you'd believe, and can shatter like glass. The surface of the Earth is like this, too. Absent the kind of overpressures that make the mantle flow like it does, Earth's crust is still tremendously weak relative to many of the planet-scale forces to which it is subject- I was surprised, once, when a professor offhandedly described the crust as having a tensile strength of 'basically zero;' they really thought of the surface as a delicate filigreed bubble of glass that formed like a thin shell, almost too thin to mention, on the outside of a water droplet. On human scales, liquid is the thing that flows, and solid is the thing that breaks. But once stuff gets big or slow or both, the distinction between a solid and a liquid is more that a liquid is the thing that doesn't shatter when it flows. And it all gets really, really vague, which I suppose you'd expect when you get this far outside the contexts in which our languages were crafted.
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"But you're so successful without it."
Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicidal ideation.
I got a message earlier tonight that I'm not going to post, but I did ask the person involved if I could talk about what we subsequently ended up talking about in DMs because I feel it's important.
Basically, it was along the lines of "My kid got diagnosed with ADHD and really wants to try meds. I know from reading your blog that correct treatment for ADHD can be really beneficial, but I just don't think she's severe enough to need them."
The message then went on to ask me, as someone who is unmedicated with ADHD, for some tricks and tips on how to be successful without medication because clearly, look how well I'm doing without them. I mean, look at my blog, look at my book(s)! Surely if I can do all that without ADHD meds, other people can too. Surely there's a trick. A skill. Something you can learn if you just try hard enough...
This is not the first time I have received a message like this. In fact, I probably get about 2-5 messages like this a week.
Usually from other people who also have ADHD/suspect ADHD but don't want medication because they don't think they need it/don't want to need it, and yet can't figure out why they're struggling so much, and ask me how do I do the thing(s) and cope so well and get so much done, etc., etc.
So I'm going to tell you what I told this person tonight in case it helps someone. Yes, I have ADHD. No, I am not medicated due to severe health complications, and yes, I get a lot done. From the outside, I am sure it looks incredibly productive and successful. But I'm going to let you in on what that success feels like.
It feels like dying.
It feels like my brain is on fire; every nerve in my body scraped raw; every part of me wired and exposed to the noise of the world. There is no quiet; there is no calm. And even when my brain does fall silent, it's another kind of death. The inside of my head is sludge, flowing uphill like treacle, weighing me down, pulling me under in the riptide of my inability to focus. I can see what needs to be done, I can see it so clearly, yet sometimes it's like I don't control my own body. Not enough dopamine. Not enough brain chemicals for the message I'm screaming in my head to make my limbs do the simplest of tasks. Like, feed myself. Take a shower. Answer that email. Text my friends back. Go to bed when I'm tired. Write a best-selling novel...
A novel that almost killed me and not because of my other ailments, but because of my unmedicated ADHD.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I was already operating at critical mass when I went into final rewrites/edits. Every coping mechanism I had fell apart. Like training wheels falling off a tricycle, leaving me to wobble unsteadily until the main wheels fell off, swiftly followed by the handlebars until all that was left was me peddling frantically trying to keep my balance and not getting anywhere. I didn't realize it then, but I was heading towards a complete mental collapse. And even when I dragged myself across the finish line with the above and beyond help provided by my friends and editors, I was so burned out I couldn't enjoy my success. Worse, my success made me suicidal.
It took me until very recently, almost two years later, to be able to read Phangs without feeling suicidal. My brain associated it with the trauma of experiencing complete ADHD burnout but having to complete a monumental task anyway.
I had to go into intensive therapy to recover. I am still in intensive therapy for it.
It took me even longer after that to be able to sit down and write without harming myself. I still struggle with it, and I tell you this in all honest sincerity in the hope it makes you realize what it costs me to be "successful" and unmedicated.
And this wasn't the first time I've had to deal with this, either.
I struggled all through high school, all through college, all through every career job I ever had, knowing there was something wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on it because hey, I still got stuff done, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely everyone went through life feeling this way? Right?
...right?
It wasn't until I got my ADHD diagnosis as an adult that I realized what was happening. Why I struggled so much. Why life was so hard. In many ways, it was like the sun coming up. An internal dawning of realization and acceptance, but also rage.
So much rage.
Rage at how much I'd had to struggle because no one noticed because I was quiet and undisruptive. Rage at a system that forced me to learn in ways that were not intuitive to my brain. To always being told, "doesn't apply herself" while it felt like I was clawing my brain apart trying to do what people wanted from me. To a work-life balance, that rewards all the things that make ADHD actively worse. Rage. So much rage it hurts. And to top it all off, I can't be medicated for it. I finally know what's different, I finally know why my world feels raw and turned inside out, and I can't take any of the medications that might help me.
Do you know how angry I wake up every day that there is a possible solution just within my grasp, but my health conditions prevent me from trying them? Do you know how much it hurts? How much I grieve for the person I could be if I was able to have help beyond therapy and coaching? How much happier I could be...
Not productive. Not successful. Happy.
So ask yourself, what do you want more? A child who has to go through all of this and resents you for prolonging their suffering? Who winds up hating themselves by internalizing the false concept that if they just try hard enough, they can do whatever they set their mind to.
Or do you want to help them?
Or if this is you, why are you afraid to help yourself?
Please, don't use me as an example to harm yourself or others. Yes, I am successful without medication. But the toll is high. Too high.
Rid yourself of the idea that you need to suffer more to be allowed help. You don't. They don't. No one does.
#adhd#adult adhd#actually adhd#chronic health tag#suicide mention#suicidal ideation#long post#mental health#I am not for you to bludgeon other people with#kindly desist
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Made a TON of Venture Bros. genderbends :D
Bonus + some of my thoughts on all the designs under the cut:
This is from a conversation I had with a friend about how Dermott and Hank would behave in this AU (its exactly the same as normal)
Ok now some thoughts on my design process
Hank: I think I drew Hank's face actually perfect, I made her so cute. I also feel like there's a common trope with genderbends where athletic characters get short hair so I gave her long hair and gave Dean short hair. I actually think the longer hair fits her perfectly. ALSO I LOVE HER BOOTS.
Dean: I gave goth Dean more Accessories than normal because normal goth dean had no fucking swag (it was besties idea to make her pants ripped). Even before I started drawing college Dean I knew I was giving her those legwarmers you can pry them from my cold dead hands. Same with the legwarmers I knew the first dean design needed a Jean skirt its just the vibes.
Dermott: The millisecond I even thought about doing Dermott I KNEW she would be 2012 grunge girl aesthetic. Gigantic shoplifting energy. Love her.
Rusty: I wanted her to look like a mean mom and I believe I accomplished that goal. Absolutely had to add the glasses strap. Very Jamie Lee Curtis.
Brock: I drew the one with the hair down first and my friends preferred the one with the hair up so I just did both. I wonder if she was a cheerleader in college and killed another girl on her cheer squad by throwing her too far/dropping them.
21: I drew 21 then I realized I had just drawn myself with bangs. Also I drew her with a blunt because there's an episode where 21 has a joint in his mouth the whole episode the other henchmen are standing in stupid poses in the background and its maybe one of my favorite bits in the entire show its so stupid.
24: 24 took several attempts to get the hair right I kept drawing it short and curly and my friend told me to give her Elaine from Seinfeld hair which I think ended up working really well.
Monarch: One of my favorites I did. I feel like this one you can definitely tell how Bayonetta completely re-arranged my brain chemicals as teenager. I love the hip cutouts, I made a tummy cutout to kind of mimic how Dr.GF's monarch costume is kinda skimpy. It's also hard to tell because of the cowl but I tried to give her like a finger waves hairstyle.
Dr.Gf: I tried a bunch of different hats but my friends liked the brimless hat the most and completely doomed him into looking like a Bellhop (more than he already did). Its giving Tyler the Creator at the 2020 Grammys. I still think he's cute though :)
Billy: I really didnt want to just draw her in a suit because thats boring. The show always gives me 60s vibes despite being set in modern day (I'm sure its on purpose) and I definitely channeled that with Billy. It took a couple tries to find a balance between fitting her body but still looking adult but I think I got it in the end.
Pete: YAYYYY PETE YAAAAYY!!! ^_^ Shes so Ava Max Coded. I also gave her giant buckles on her shoes to match his stupid ass one two buckle my shoes ass shoes.
Triana: Very much looks like putting emo boy in the Pinterest search bar. I made her thigh highs into his sleeves and I gave him square bangs like her.
Dr. Orpheus: NEEDED to make her a hot milf and I did. Its a little hard to see but her shirt has lace over the open part. I love the hair Jewerly at the bottom of her braid. :)
#venture bros.#venture bros#Hank Venture#Dean venture#rusty venture#dermott fictel#Dermott venture bros#brock samson#henchman 21#henchman 24#the monarch#monarch venture bros#dr. girlfriend#billy quizboy#peter white#triana orpheus#dr. orpheus#Gary Fischer#billy whalen#dr. mrs. the monarch#Dr. Byron Orpheus#my art#venture brothers#genderbend#genderswap
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