May the bridges I burn light the way.

Everything that my fangirl heart desires. Simp for fictional men. Came for the smut, stay for the smut. F/ 30+ Minors stay away / DNI !

[123passwort]

The Pitt incorrect textposts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Castiel is struck by his devotion to you. He's heard his name whispered in prayers for eons, but having it fall from your lips brings him to his knees.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He follows you everywhere like a personal shoulder angel. When you're out of sight, he gets restless. He knows you need space but decides, "thirty minutes should be enough time alone," and then you'll hear the flutter of wings.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He steals kisses all the time, and they're always impromptu. The Winchesters will be detailing your next hunt, and Cas will pull you close and plant one on you.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ You pulled him by the tie once, and he's still not over it. He felt so attracted to you afterward. He hopes you'll do it again.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Cas loves when the smell of your perfume lingers on his coat. He'll lift the lapel to his nose and breathe in, smiling softly. He scrunches his brow afterward, perplexed by his own behavior.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Ask Cas for anything, and it's yours. Literally, anything. He cannot fight the impulse to please you.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ The Winchesters walked in on Cas holding your hand while you slept. Sam shook his head and muttered, “Whipped.” Dean snorted. “Absolutely whipped.”

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

He loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.

[roobydoos]

[mf-dooom]

[yetanothergreyjedi]

that is the face of a man worried he will be next

[ashtraythief]

Good news, he was not next! In fact, she accepted him as her mate, he learned the crane mating dance and now every year, he artificially inseminates her with crane semen to expand the very endangered crane population. True story.

[luulapants]

Sorry, he WHAT? Imagine being this man's boss and having to sit him down like. Listen. Brian. We need you to fuck the bird. You have to act like you're excited about it.

[whetstonefires]

crane husband.....

[roach-works]

this is the diametric opposite of all those awful swan wife stories and i love it.

[alex51324]

(WalWaPo makes you jump through like three separate hoops before you can read the article, so I will share some of the highlights:

Walnut was born in a species-recovery breeding program in the 1980′s.  The program had crane chicks hand-raised by human volunteers, and at that time they did not fully understand the measures necessary make sure that the chicks do not imprint on humans and retain their identity as cranes.  

As a result, her keepers believe, Walnut does not recognize other cranes as members of her own species.  

It has not been proven that Walnut killed her previous suitors; however, there is a persistent rumor in the white-naped-crane-conservation community that she did.  

Because this species is highly endangered, and the gene pool of the captive population is small, it’s pretty important for the survival of her species that Walnut A) mate, and B) not kill a bunch of other cranes.  

The actual name of the keeper is Chris Crowe.

They both arrived at the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute in 2004.   

Walnut immediately began paying special attention to Chris--and ignoring the eligible male crane in a nearby enclosure.  

Walnut initiated their courtship, performing the opening moves of a mating dance.  

Chris realized that if he reciprocated the mating dance, it might be possible to artificially inseminate Walnut with her participation and consent.  (The process normally involves restraining the bird.)  

It worked!  

Chris and Walnut have had five children, who were raised by other crane couples at the facility--sometimes the biological dad and his mate--both because it’s unclear whether Walnut would accept the chicks as her own, and because Chris is not equipped to be a Crane Dad.  

However, the Institute provides her with artificial eggs to sit on, and Chris takes his turn looking after them.  (This would not work with real eggs because he can’t sit on them properly, but Walnut seems to feel that he is on the job if he just stands over them.)

Chris accepts that he is pretty much married to this bird.  White-naped cranes live to be about 60, and they mate for life, so he knows he can’t retire while Walnut is alive.  (At the time of the article, Walnut was 36, and Chris 42.)  

[thesylverlining]

Legit cannot pick the funniest part of this

she has not been PROVEN to have killed her exes, but there is a PERSISTENT RUMOR (really officers she's simply DEVASTATED, she sobs, wearing a new feather boa unfortunately resembling her most recent deceased husband)

His name is Chris CROWE. (Mrs. Walnut Crane-Crowe?)

the mental images of a whole human man learning and performing the crane mating dance, and "sitting" on artificial eggs so she thinks he's performing his duties as a husband and father (and apparently OBJECTS if he does not?)

"chris, buddy, you gotta marry the possibly-murderous crane lady for the GOOD OF THE SPECIES." (alternately: "chris, my man! good news! we found you a very interested lady! She's 36, she's very spirited and independent, she holds a very important and rare status in her society! ...Is there a downside? WELL...")

chris sits any potential human partners down, like "my love, you must understand before we wed,,, i am already... Attached" (camera drifts wistfully to the above photo) "Lady Walnut and I have an,, Understanding... the relationship is open, but very committed"

[anais-ninja-bitch]

just had to explain this post to my father bc he thought my stifled laughter was a signal of illness.

well done, everyone, good game. hit the showers.

[largishcat]

[eshlimoriarty]

[lazorsandparadox]

Not only is he 'married' to walnut, this has apparently happened SEVERAL times, so he has MULTIPLE crane wives, none of which know about any of his other crane wives. This man is, for some unknown reason, irresistible to cranes

[queersatanic]

the “this content has been removed for violating Tumblr’s Community Guidelines” notice really adds a lot of flavor to this post and somehow makes it MORE obscene than whatever that actually was

[worldheritageposts-official]

World Heritage Post

[kedreeva]

I regret being the bearer of bad news, but I thought it should be shared that Walnut passed away in January of this year (2024). There's a lot of mixed info about the lifespan of cranes (due to people misunderstanding what a median is...) but the average for most species I know of is 20-30 years (in the wild if nothing eats them/they don't die young), and 30-45 in captivity, with the oldest known white-naped crane having loved to be 46. Given that she was 42, this old gal did good, and I'm certain she will be missed by folks here.

[optimysticals]

Fly on forever Walnut Crane-Crowe

[thejewellerybox]

Gannet Diving necklace by Rie Taniguchi

This necklace comes in 3 parts, to be worn together or individually.

[drjohncarters]

Let You Try

pairing: jack abbot x reader

wc: 3k

summary: you show up to the bar with the intention of leaving with someone. which you wouldn't have to do if you didn't have such an embarrassing crush on the nightshift attending. jack abbot is hellbent on making sure that you don't leave with anyone else tonight. which he would tell you, except for that fact that he's under the impression that you have no idea he exists.

notes: based on this request! not proofread

masterlist 𓊔 request

“Look who finally decided to join us!” An all-too familiar voice jeers from a hightop table, making you snap your head to the left. 

Trinity is already out of her seat, arms up in the air to celebrate your arrival. Not that arriving at this dusty, cramped bar should be celebrated by anyone. It was the only bar that was open this late-- or early, depending on how you look at it. You’re wrapped up into a cinnamon-scented hug before you can protest, her arms squeezing tightly around your shoulders. 

Behind her, you see Dennis, Robby, Princess, and Jack all sitting in a booth. 

What the hell kind of grouping is this? You wonder silently as you double-take the crowd. 

“You’re like… really late!” Trinity shouts over the music as she pulls away, grabbing you by the elbow to drag you to the table. 

“I’m like… not here to see you!” You call back mockingly, but don’t force your arm away from her tight grip. Of course you’ll come over to say hi to your coworkers. Regardless of whether or not you’re being hauled by a small powerhouse of a woman. 

“Then who are you here to see?” She narrows her eyes. 

“Well, hopefully,” you start, then pause to scan the crowd until your eyes land on a guy with a dark buzzcut playing darts, “that guy over there.”

Her gaze follows yours and then she snorts out a laugh. 

“Cheap thrills tonight, doc?” The two of you are close enough to the table that Robby howls out a laugh. At the same time, he’s sliding closer to Princess in the booth to make room for you. Trinity waves her hand at them. “No need. She’s got her eyes on other company tonight. Didn’t come to see us.”

God, she’s too drunk and you’re too sober. Though, by the looks of the other four, they’re not any better than her. Another raspy laugh from Robby and Princess’ loud snort confirm that suspicion. 

You can’t help the way your eyes dart from them across the table to Jack. He’s sitting straight as ever, curls a little messy and eyes a little glassy as they dance between you and Trinity with amusement.

And God, he looks so good doing it. It’s impossible not to stare as he lifts the lip of a beer bottle to his mouth and tips it all the way up. There’s a little trail of gold liquid trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. 

Pulling your lip between your teeth and averting your gaze is the only way you manage to keep from licking it clean.

“You look hot,” Princess says as she rakes her eyes over the outfit you chose with the specific intention of going home with someone tonight. 

A shocked laugh is the only thing you reply with, pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. 

“Oh yeah, stay away from the rad tech,” Robby chimes from next to her. At your frown, he continues. “He had some… things to say about you.”

Your chest tightens slightly as you cross your brows, trying to think about what wrongs you may have committed to have radiology venting about you over drinks with your attendings. 

“He wants to fuck you,” Princess stage-whispers across the table. 

With this information, you drop into the seat next to Robby, knocking a knee into Jack’s across from you as you settle in.

Trinity has found her way back between Jack and Dennis, the latter arguing with her over something minute as always. Beside you, Robby shifts, hooking an arm over the back of your seat. 

“I don’t think that was the exact verbage,” Jack corrects with a finger pointed to him. 

“Right, no. He asked if you were single,” Robby amends. 

That sends a memory flashing through your head. 

“Oh! Brown curly hair? Young guy, cute?” You ask, and Princess’ enthusiastic nod confirms. “Okay, yeah, yeah. I knew that already, he asked me out a few weeks ago.”

Her jaw drops, eyes widening to the size of saucers. 

“What?” She shouts, leaning over Robby to smack you on the arm. “How did nobody know about this? When did this happen?”

“Yeah, when did this happen?” Jack asks dryly from across the table, bringing the beer to his lips as he watches you through narrowed eyes. 

Giving him a confused look, you shrug. 

“Couple weeks ago, I guess. It was like a two-second interaction, I guess nobody saw it. He came up as I was charting and asked me to go to some theater thing,” you reply with a dismissive wave of your hand. 

“Theater?” Robby chortles. “That feels like a bold choice for a first date.”

Again, you shrug. It was genuinely the only conversation you’ve ever had with the man, and you hadn’t even seen him since. Really, you were incredibly surprised that he’d brought you up at all tonight after so long. 

Princess starts telling Robby something about how the nosebleeds are a great place to fool around without anyone seeing, and that’s your cue to go get a drink. Across from you, Jack pushes himself to his feet at the same time, a little unsteadier than you expect him to be. 

“Too much to drink, Abbot?” You tease, letting your eyes fall over him now that he’s standing. 

He’s wearing a black tee shirt that pulls taut across his chest, and a black and white flannel over it. The extra layer is probably contributing to the pink flush on his drunken cheeks. Through all the layers you can still see the bulge of his biceps as you take him in. You already know you’ll be staring at his ass in those blue jeans the moment you get the chance.

“Not enough for whatever conversation they’re havin’,” he jerks his head in the direction of the table as the two of you start walking away. “Didn’t know you knew the radiology guy.”

“I don’t. Him asking me out was the first and last conversation we ever had.” You eye him carefully. 

“Huh.” He hums, nodding as if not believing you.

Then he takes a final drag from his beer, tosses it in the trash, and breaks away from your path and toward the men’s bathroom. 

Weird. 

You continue walking to the bar, where the crowd is significantly more than you’d expect at 3 a.m. on a weekday. There’s one space where you can easily saddle up between two other people, so you do. 

As luck would have it, one of those people would be the man you pointed out to Trinity earlier. He’s cute, a bit of a firefighter look to him that you’re sure charms plenty of women. Strong, too, though in a way that’s more lean and less bulk. Handsome, strong, and judging by the amount of shots he’s buying right now, employed. 

Bumping into him, you pretend to act surprised, as if you hadn’t just orchestrated the move for the sole reason of getting his attention. As you planned, he turns to face you, arms darting out to steady you on your feet.

“I’m so sorry!” You call over the noise around you, resting a hand on his chest and pushing yourself up to your toes to get closer to his ear. “Are you ok?”

That puts a little grin on his face. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip and he nods, amusement written all over his features. 

“‘M fine. You good?” His eyes are moving up and down the outfit you’re wearing. Just like you hoped they would. Based on the long exhale he blows out, you’d say the mission was accomplished. 

“I’m good. Thank you!” You give a sweet smile and then turn back to face the bar, hoping he’ll--

“What’s your name?” 

Fuck yeah.

The typical flirty conversation carries on between the both of you while you stand there waiting for your turn to order drinks. His name is Brett and he is a firefighter. He’s twenty-nine and moved here from some city out West that you don’t much care to remember. 

Most importantly: he’s single. 

The two of you have two drinks at the bar while you talk. Eventually, you follow him back to his friends where he drops off the shots and then let him bring you to a high top closer to the bar. He pulls the chair out for you and you can only hope that his chivalry extends to the bedroom as well. 

“What do you like to do for fun?” He asks, standing next to your chair with his hand on your side. With the height of the stool, you’re about shoulder-height to him. 

“I could show y-”

Your worst nightmare comes true. 

“Hi! I’m Princess.” She’s cuddling up next to him. 

Brett furrows his brows for a moment, but upon seeing your knowing look, chuckles.

“Brett. You two know each other?” He wraps his arm around her and watches as you roll your eyes. 

“Princess, fuck all the way off,” you groan, nudging her with the toe of your shoe. 

She shakes her head, a sorry little smile appearing. Her leaning into your date while she does it sure does nothing to convey any sincerity. 

“Can’t. If I can get you to come back to the table I get $50. And if you let me stay here for longer than 3 minutes I get an extra $10 on top.”

Of fucking course she does. These people are gambling addicts. You didn’t even know that they were still here, let alone watching you. Grumpily, you bring your drink to your mouth and empty it. 

Brett laughs again, patting Princess on the back and then moving to stand behind your chair, placing both hands on your shoulders. 

“How about $100 and you let me take her back to my place?” He proposes. 

Your stomach twists, and you feel bile rise in your throat. He had been nice up until now, and you’re sure he probably didn’t mean for it to come out like he was paying to have sex with you. But holy fuck, you’ve never been turned off so fast. 

Princess is quiet, and you don’t look at her as you get out of your chair and grab your purse. 

“I probably should go back with my friends,” you excuse, giving a tight-lipped smile to the man who has so suddenly soured your night. “It was nice to meet you, Brett. Have a good night.”

Before either of them can say anything else, you’re throwing open the door to the women’s restroom and locking it. 

God, why did they have to ruin that? What the fuck were you even doing here? Why can’t you just sit at home and listen to fucking audio erotica to get your rocks off like the rest of the universe? Why do you have to put your faith into non-fictional men who make jokes about paying for sex with you?

And why the fuck are your friends so goddamn annoying?

Frustration tightens your chest in a way that makes you feel mean. The alcohol isn’t sitting well, it’s ready to bubble over into this stupid situation and make you lash out at what few friends you have because they made a stupid joke that ruined your stupid hookup.

You’re washing your hands as if you can cleanse the anger away. The water is cold, sobering, in a way, and you let it run over your skin to soothe the sting of anger.

Outside the door, muffled voices begin to spill in through the crack in the door. 

“You should just go, man.” It’s Jack that you hear outside. His tone makes you turn the water off to be able to hear better.

“I want to make sure she’s ok. I didn’t mean to-” It’s Brett.

“It’s over, kid. Have a good night.” 

Kid. Your cheeks grow hot as you let yourself become even more upset. That’s the fucking reason you’re here. Because Jack Abbot is the only man you’ve ever wanted to like you, and here he is calling a man older than yourself kid. 

You can’t be enough for him. Could never, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be his age. Never have his experience. Never come close to breaking down those walls that guard him because he will never care about you enough to let you try. 

The urge to scream appears, and when you tamper it, it’s only replaced with the urge to hit something. 

Here we go again. It’s time to go home. 

As you barge into the hallway outside the bar, you don’t expect to trip over your own feet and right into Jack, who is alone now. 

“Whoa, hey. You okay?” His strong arms hold your waist. 

“Fuck off,” you mumble, pushing yourself off of his chest. But his grip on you is too tight. 

One hand stays on your waist while the other finds your jaw, lifting it from where you’ve locked your eyes on the wall over his shoulder. The thought of seeing his handsome face when you can’t have him feels like a lead weight in your bones. But his grip forces you to meet his eyes. They’re soft, searching in a way you’ve never seen him before. Not like he’s being a doctor, but a friend. 

There’s a neon sign above the bathroom door that shines all sorts of colors across his pretty grey curls. He’s ditched the flannel, too, now only clad in that tight black shirt that has your lips parting to get enough air.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” His question frustrates you to no end. 

“Let me go, Jack.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he insists, and you see the bit of desperation on his face. 

It’s far too intense for this situation, and too vulnerable for Jack. But he’s drunk, and these are some pretty typical drunken dramatics by any definition.

Rolling your eyes, you find your footing and move his hands from your body. They drop back to his sides with a thud against the wall behind him. You back away from him until you’re flush with the opposite wall so that you can breathe your own air. The first inhale feels cool, settling. 

Until you hear your name from down the hall. 

Brett is walking toward you, starting another apology when Jack steps up from the wall and blocks you from the other man. 

“I told you to leave,” he warns, and a shiver runs up your spine at the danger in his voice. 

“Dude, just let me-”

“Fuck off!” Jack shouts now, and you jump a little, shock and fear running through you all at once. 

Before you have much time to process anything, you’re being swept into Jack’s arms and into the women’s bathroom once again. He comes in with you and locks you both inside. Once he’s done that, he’s lowering you to your feet and grabbing your face with both of his hands. 

The pace of your heart is concerning. It’s hammering in your chest, and you wonder if Jack can feel it where his fingertips hold the bottom of your jaw. 

“Don’t forgive him,” he pleads, and you startle because what the fuck.

“What?” You ask dumbly, face a little squished by his palms.

“That guy. He-- I don’t-- just don’t.”

His hands go from smashing your face to cradling it, fingers curling around the nape of your neck and thumb stroking your cheekbone. It feels like you have whiplash. 

Why is your hot attending holding you in the women’s bathroom right now? Why did he just shout at your date? Why does he seem so invested in whatever is happening here right now?

“Jack,” you whisper, “I’m a little confused.”

A little laugh leaves his lips as he nods, then drops his head until his forehead meets yours. 

“I didn’t know you knew who I was,” he replies quietly. This surprises you, brows crinkling beneath him. “I saw you, with that guy. And I guess I made a face. Santos told me that you… like me.”

You’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“I didn’t send Princess. That was her own idea and I told her not to,” he assures quickly. “I just, I didn’t think you’d ever glance twice at the grumpy old guy who works the night shift. I didn’t know I had a chance, and I didn’t want to make you uncom-”

The words die as you press your lips to his. In their absence, his mouth melts against yours, tongue instantly darting out to reach for your bottom lip. With a soft sigh you part your lips for him, letting him deepen the kiss to explore your mouth. 

His hands tighten around your face, fingers curling into the hair at the base of your neck to hold you in place. At the slight tug he gives it, you whine, reaching out to grab him and finding his shirt bunched into your fists tightly to pull him closer. It’s futile. You’re as close as you can be without molding into one. 

Then your feet leave the ground, and he’s hoisting you up into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, expecting him to carry you somewhere, maybe to the countertop, but he just stands there, backing you into the wall and keeping you settled around his torso. 

“Jack,” you pant as his mouth dips to leave hot kisses down your neck. “Fuck you feel good.”

His breath is warm as he hums against your skin, working his way behind your ear and then along the shell of it. When he reaches the very peak, he pauses and drops his head against yours to whisper. 

“Needed this for so long, sweetheart.”

It’s raw, it’s fucking sexy. 

You’re running your hands all over him when his lips collide with yours in another heated kiss. As time passes, he gets more comfortable. Low moans rumble from his chest as you run your fingers through his hair. 

Then he’s pulling away, trailing chaste, sweet kisses across your face as he draws his head back. 

“Hmm, something wrong?” Your eyes flutter open, a lazy grin on your face when you see his deep flush and blown pupils. 

“Come home with me.” It’s not a question, really, but you nod anyway. 

You expect your feet to hit the floor, to wipe your lipstick from his neck and face and ears before going back out to face the rest of the bar. But, no. Jack keeps you held tightly against his waist as he carries you back to the table (still full of your coworkers), grabs his flannel and your purse, and then leaves wordlessly. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little proud, despite trying to hide your face in his neck the whole time (leaving lots of kisses there, of course). 

masterlist 𓊔 request

[123passwort]

so cute and amusing 🩷

[ohitsminnie]

♡Keep it casual♡

Hi cutie pies, I hope you enjoy x

Word count: 3.1k

Content warning; Contains brieft sexual content 18+ mention of reckless behaviour, female reader

Summary; Robby and you had agreed to keep your relationship casual, but one motorcycle, one argument and the slip of three little words, changed everything

Robby was just slipping into bed as your alarm was due to sound. He had already shed his scrubs, leaving him in just his boxers as he reached over for you, pulling you closer to him, trying to warm his cold hands on your thighs and stomach. You sleepily swatted him away. 

“Get off,” you laughed, turning around to face him. “You’re freezing.” He greeted you with a tired smile. 

“Hey.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, already disheveled from him raking his fingers though it all day. 

“How was work?” You asked him, as he leaned in planting a kiss to your cheek, making his way down to your neck. He let out a huff, his hand snaking behind your back and pulling you in closer. 

“Rough.” 

Your hands trailed up his chest, reaching for his jaw, bringing his lips to yours.

It wasn’t unusual for Robby to come back to yours after work, or for you to go to his. That was the arrangement you had. When you had time, you gave it to each other. But there were rules, and limits. 

Keep it casual.

That had been both of your priorities since the beginning. You were both too busy for dating, so you found something in each other that worked in both your favours. He would come to you, or you would go to him. And it worked, almost too well. Nothing ever got messy, no wires ever got crossed. You had agreed that although you weren’t exactly exclusive, you weren’t seeing or sleeping with other people. You both agreed on that as well. As casual as the whole situation was, it was yours, together. Just the two of you. At the start, you had both decided that staying the night made more sense. You work together, and time in between shifts was so limited that you both understood the importance of sleep where you can, when you can.

But, there came a point when you knew that it wasn’t just sex anymore. Robby knew that too. But you were both, for the time being, happy to keep pretending that it was as casual as it had been at the beginning. Eventually, somewhere along the way, he would come over and you would have dinner before falling asleep talking about your day. Mornings became just as familiar. The two of you would drift around the kitchen making coffee and eating breakfast, bickering over who got the bathroom first. You would perch on the counter brushing your teeth while Robby washed his face beside you. He always remembered your scarf as you rushed out the door, and you always remembered to close his windows so his apartment wasn't freezing when he got home.

He would find you at work, pull you into an empty supply cupboard and steal a kiss before returning to work like nothing happened. There was never much time in the chaos of the ED, but he still somehow always found thirty seconds for you. Sometimes it was nothing more than a brush of his fingers against yours as you passed each other in the corridor, hidden from everyone else's attention. Sometimes it was a folded note tucked into your scrub pocket, his messy handwriting scrawled across the paper. It wasn't dating. At least, that's what the two of you kept telling yourselves. If anyone noticed the way his eyes found yours in a room full of people, or how instinctively you reached for him after particularly difficult cases, nobody ever said anything. You certainly didn't. Neither did he. Because saying it out loud would mean admitting that the lines had blurred. 

Because casual relationships weren't supposed to look like that.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” he mumbled against your skin, as he kissed a trail down your neck to your chest and eventually down to your stomach. His hands ghosted over your hips, hooking onto the fabric and slipping it down slowly over your legs. His hands grazed back into your thighs, pushing them apart gently and your hips bucked, desperate for the attention he was purposefully withholding.

“Robby,” you almost whispered, your breath hitching in your chest. Your hands reached for him, trying to guide him down as you shifted underneath him.

“You’re needy when you’re tired.” He laughed, kissing down your thighs, settling in between your legs and gripping you tightly, pulling you towards him. 

“And you’re a tease.” Your hands found his head, scratching through his hair.

He huffed a laugh, his breath fanning over you, making you squirm. He knew what he was doing, he always did. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he moaned into you, your hips twitching as the vibrations of his voice rolled through you. His fingers teased at your center, slipping in softly and slowly. 

Another cry of his name was the only thing you could seem to muster as you threw your head back into the pillow.

After you were showered and dressed, Robby still hadn’t moved from the bed. He lay on his back, one arm behind his head as he watched you search the room for the rest of your things. 

“My badge,” you muttered, checking the bedside table before Robby pointed you to the dresser by the door, his eyes never leaving you.

"What?" you asked, catching him staring.

"Nothing."

"You've been looking at me for the last five minutes."

"I know."

You laughed, shaking your head.

“That’s a dangerous look when I’m already running late, Robinavitch.”

His smile was tired, the kind that barely lifted the corners of his mouth after twelve hours on his feet.

"You don't have to go."

You looked over your shoulder. "Pretty sure they'll notice if I don't turn up."

"They'll survive."

"The emergency department?" You raised an eyebrow. "Unlikely."

He let out a quiet chuckle before sighing, dragging a hand over his face.

"When does this stupid night rotation end?"

You slipped your watch onto your wrist.

"Next week."

"So after next week," he looked at you hopefully. "you're back on days?"

You nodded.

"Finally."

You smiled as you stepped closer to the bed, smoothing a hand through his messy hair.

"You'll survive."

"I don't want to."

"Oh?"

"I hate not seeing you."

The words slipped out so naturally that neither of you acknowledged them. Instead, he reached for your hand, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles.

"Our schedules are ridiculous."

"They always are."

"They're worse when you're on nights."

"It’s only one more week."

"A long week."

You leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.

"Get some sleep."

You started towards the bedroom door before his voice stopped you.

"Hey."

You turned back.

"Be careful tonight."

You smiled softly and he watched you until you disappeared into the hallway, only letting himself close his eyes after he heard the front door click shut.

You stood outside in the ambulance bay, nursing what little you had left of your energy drink. That’s when you heard it, Robby’s motorcycle. You hated that thing, with a passion. Working in the ED there were certain things you were sworn off for life, motorcycles sat firmly at the top of the list. You just wished that Robby felt the same way. You watched as he rounded the corner, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. Even from where you stood, you saw the way his shoulders tensed when he spotted you. He pulled to a stop, killed the engine and slipped off his sunglasses, guilt written all over his face.

“You’re joking.” You walked over to him, tossing your can into the nearby bin.

“Please tell me you’re joking because there is no way you just rode all the way here without wearing a helmet.” 

He swung his leg over his bike, grabbing his bag and inching slowly towards you like a child in trouble. You spoke before he had the chance to try and defend himself with whatever excuse he would muster up, you were too tired and too upset to hear it. 

“I can’t believe you. How could you be so reckless? You’re the attending of this ED,” you waved your hand behind you to the entrance, “every single day we treat people whose lives change in an instant because they make stupid decisions like this! For fuck sake Robby, what the hell are you thinking?”

He huffed a sigh, only making you angrier than you thought possible. He held his hand up in defence, like he was trying to calm you down, but it was having the opposite effect. 

“You don’t get to sigh at me.”

“It was only a ten minute ride, it’s not a big deal.”

Furious didn’t seem to touch the sides of what you were feeling. 

“Not a big deal.” You nodded your head. “Sure, so I’ll start driving my car without wearing my seat belt, not a big deal. It’s not like we treat people every day, with injuries that could have easily been avoided by wearing a seat belt. But screw it, hey? Because it’s not a big deal.”

You placed your hands on your hips, shaking your head, trying to look anywhere but at Robby, it was taking everything you had not to run over to him and physically shake some sense into him. 

His voice wasn't raised, but there was frustration creeping in now.

"I'm standing here, aren't I? Nothing happened."

You stared at him in disbelief.

"That's your defence?" The words echoed louder than you had intended.

A couple of paramedics glanced over before deciding they suddenly had somewhere else to be.

Robby lowered his voice.

"Please. I don't want to do this out here."

“Oh you don’t want to fight?” You laughed bitterly. 

He stepped closer.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

His jaw clenched.

"I made one stupid decision."

"Exactly."

"And I'm apologising."

"Because you got caught."

"No." He shook his head. "Because I upset you."

“You don’t like seeing me upset? Imagine how upset I’ll be when you’re brought in here, after crashing that death machine while not wearing a helmet. Imagine how heartbroken I’ll be if something terrible happened to you Robby!” You fought hard to keep the tears at bay, not wanting to cry in front of him. His expression softened immediately.

“Hey, I’m fine. Nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.”

You laughed. It was all you could do. Never in your life did you think you’d have to worry about something as insane as this. 

“You know what Robby, it’s your life. If you’re happy playing chance with it, then go ahead. But I am done, leave me out of it.” 

You turned around despite hearing him call after you. You hurried to the bathroom, desperate for a moment of quiet and private place to cry. The tears came before you even reached the sink. You splashed cold water over your face, willing the sting behind your eyes to disappear. Your shift was over. All you had to do was grab your things and go home. But it still took another five minutes before you trusted yourself enough to leave. You kept your head down, hoping if you walked quickly enough you'd make it to the staff room unnoticed. You'd almost made it.

"Hey."

You closed your eyes.

"Please don't."

Robby was already beside you.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want to do this."

"I know."

His voice was quiet now, stripped of the frustration from outside.

"Just talk to me for a minute."

Before you could object, he gently rested a hand against the small of your back, guiding you towards the nearest empty supply cupboard. The door clicked shut behind you. The shelves around you were crammed with boxes of gloves, IV tubing and gauze, leaving barely enough room for the two of you to stand. Robby rubbed the back of his neck.

"I shouldn't have ridden without it."

"No."

"I wasn't thinking."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

You nodded once. He took half a step closer.

"It won't happen again."

You looked away from him, your eyes drifting around the tiny room. You shook your head, wiping angrily at your cheeks.

"You don't get it. You came into my life," you laughed once, humourlessly. "You came into my life and you made yourself matter to me."

Robby's brow furrowed.

"You did that." You poked his chest once. Your eyes drifted around the tiny cupboard.

"You kissed me in here. We eat lunch together in the break room. We work side by side in trauma. You built the bookshelf in my apartment." Your voice cracked. "You're everywhere."

He didn't interrupt.

"If something happened to you," you swallowed hard. "I'd have to leave. I'd have to get another job because every corner of this hospital would remind me of you. I'd have to move because I'd walk past that bookshelf every day and think about you." You let out a shaky breath.

"You made yourself part of my life." The words came before you could stop them.

"I love you, Robby, but that's so selfish."

His face fell.

"What?"

"It's selfish." Your voice was barely above a whisper now. "You made yourself matter to me, and now you're acting like it doesn't matter if you throw your life away."

The words hung between you, and suddenly your stomach dropped when you realized what you had said. You stared at him for a heartbeat, horror settling across your features as the weight of your own words hit you. Without another word, you pushed past him, yanked the cupboard door open and disappeared into the corridor.

"Wait!"

You didn't, because you couldn’t. You felt the panic settle in your chest. You hadn't meant to say it. Not like that. Not at all.

You told yourself he'd come over after his shift. He always did. But you woke up alone, and that was confirmation enough of you. Whatever was going on between you and Robby was over. 

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the look on Robby's face when they left your mouth. Shock, or anger? Confusion? Something you hadn't stayed long enough to figure out. 

You spent the whole of your next shift replaying the argument over and over again. Not the shouting or the tears. Just three words.

I love you.

It was all you could think of, all day. Between that and the endless flow of patients, by the time the day staff started arriving, you were exhausted. You escaped to the break room with a lukewarm coffee and every intention of sitting down for five minutes before dragging yourself home. The chair felt softer than you remembered. You rested your forehead against your folded arms. Just five minutes, that was all. You didn't even realise you'd fallen asleep until you felt something warm brush gently across your back, slowly dragging you from your sleep. Your brow furrowed as you blinked awake, lifting your head just enough to look over your shoulder.

Robby. His hand fell away the moment he realised you were awake.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

You rubbed at your eyes, still half asleep.

"What time is it?"

"About seven."

You sat up with a groan.

"I was supposed to go home."

"I know."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The awkwardness settled between you almost immediately. You weren't sure whether to apologise or leave. Before you could decide, Robby pulled out the chair opposite yours and sat down. His hands disappeared into the pockets of his jacket.

"I wanted to show you something."

He placed a set of keys on the table between you. Car keys. They sat in front of you, a small black fob attached to a dealership key tag. You frowned.

"What?"

Your eyes lifted to Robby.

"So," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I sold it."

You looked from the keys, to him and then back again.

"You sold your motorcycle?"

He nodded. You couldn't quite find the words.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know."

"So why did you?"

He let out a quiet breath.

"I kept thinking about what you said."

You immediately looked away.

"Robby."

"No." His voice was gentle, his tired smile returning. "Not the part you're embarrassed about."

Heat crept into your cheeks.

"The rest of it."

Silence settled between you.

"You were right."

You looked back at him.

"I was acting like nothing could happen to me."

His fingers tapped absently against the table.

"And if it did,” he shook his head. "I never thought about what it'd do to you."

Your throat tightened.

"You don't have to give up something you love because of me."

His small smile grew across his face.

"I was thinking about that too. And you've made it pretty clear over the last few months that you were never getting on the back of that thing."

Despite yourself, you laughed quietly.

"Not a chance."

"I figured."

He nudged the keys a little closer to you.

"So I bought a car. A very sensible sedan. Because I like the idea of being able to drive my girlfriend home.”

Your breath caught.

"Your girlfriend?"

The words hung between you. For the first time since you'd known him, Robby looked almost nervous. His hand rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck before he let out a quiet laugh.

"Well," he shrugged, his smile small and almost sheepish. "That's what I'm hoping."

The lump in your throat became impossible to swallow. The tears came before you could stop them.

"Oh, don't," Robby sighed, already pushing back his chair.

"I'm not trying to."

"I know."

He was beside you in two strides. You laughed through your tears as he cupped your face, brushing away the ones that had escaped with the pads of his thumbs. Your forehead rested against his. He looked at you for a long moment.

"I love you." He said finally.

The words were quiet, but certain, and they knocked the air out of your lungs. You reached up, grabbing his hand that cradled your cheek.

“Good.” You laughed softly, tears still clinging to your lashes.

"You're supposed to say it back." His smile widened.

"I already did." 

Robby smiled, the tired lines around his eyes softening as he leaned in. He didn’t rush. He kissed you gently, the same way he always had. He kissed you like a million more kisses were already promised. When you pulled back, Robby murmured, "So, does this mean we’re not keeping it casual anymore?”

A quiet laugh fluttered in your chest.

"I think we were pretty bad at that anyway." You smiled.

@solarpotato @itzpixiebabe @darkmoonlightdragon @captainamericaloki @anonymouse1807 @sunflower2226 @rtavfc @krispydazedreamer @hanstarsstuff @dianaxx99 @marrittisaflaminghomo @lacy1986 @sayd6 @yiiiikesmish @fj-suffers @lizzyscorner @sorilyae @tubby23 @dollett-3 @cieloestrelladoluna @magicwriterinspo @ihearyoucallmyname @allie-rambles

[123passwort]

[abbotsdoll]

pope showing you how much he misses you when you’re not there <3

nsfw mdni!! based on this ask ♡

you’ve been away on a girl’s trip for the past three days, and to say pope is suffering is an understatement. he never realized how badly he was attached to you, how much he needed you, but now that you’re gone he’s going insane.

it doesn’t help, either, that he’s been insanely horny. he’s refrained from doing anything about it, though. he wants to wait until you get back, he thinks he’ll be worth it that way. but when you call him randomly and he hears your voice again, he can’t help it.

you chirp into the phone, “hi, andy! are you busy? i missed you!” you’re so happy, so unaware of how badly he needs you.

he groans into his pillow, fighting to not press his hips into the bed. “i… no, not busy, angel. what did you need?” his voice is rougher, deeper than usual.

initially, you assume he’s upset with you for bothering him. you frown, “sorry, i just wanted to talk…”

he panics, “no, no, love. don’t be sorry. i just…” he can’t help but groan again, and you start to realize what’s really going on.

you soften, “aww, baby, are you needy?” he’s never really like this, he’s always so… dominant. he takes what he needs. but right now, he’s almost submissive.

his face reddens, but he nods into the pillow, “yeah… m’needy, angel… need you…”

for a moment, you stop to think, then murmur into the phone, “take care of it for me, andy.”

“w-what?” his head snaps up, surprised. you know he doesn’t really ever ‘take care’ of himself, he has you.

you grin, “c’mon, andy. touch yourself for me. i wanna hear it.”

it’s silent on the other end for a moment, but then you hear soft rustling and you can tell he’s palming himself over his jeans. “good boy, that’s good. doesn’t it feel nice?”

pope nods quickly, “yeah, it… feels nice…” his breathing hitches a bit as he speeds up.

“take off your jeans, feel yourself. i wanna hear it,” you whisper, and you do. you hear his breathing pick up even more, and he accidentally lets out a soft moan. you giggle, “wow, i’ve never heard that sound from you before. you really need me, huh?”

he whines, “yeah, i do… please, i do…” he’s stroking himself fast and rough, the same way he always fucks you when he’s missed you.

you can’t believe what’s going on, but you’re not complaining. you’ve never seen him like this before. “are you close, andy?”

he’s trying so hard to keep his composure, he can’t cum just from this. “i…”

you shush him, “it’s okay. i want you to. cmon, andy, let go for me, you’ve been so good.”

he tries, he really does, but the second you say that he loses all control. he lets out a high whine as he spills into his hand, and you can hear his breath stuttering as he comes down from his high. you smile, “you okay?”

“yeah, i’m… fuck…” he sighs, and you can practically hear him melting into the bed. he always gets so sleepy after you fuck, it’s cute.

you can tell he’s falling asleep, so you assure him, “i’ll stay on the phone until you’re asleep, don’t worry.”

he relaxes at that, curling into the pillow you usually sleep with. “okay… can’t wait for you to get home.” with that, he falls asleep, and it’s safe to say he has some very nice dreams about you after hearing you talk him through it.

[liltrinkets]

andrew cody is a munch.

we’re talking about a man who would rather suffocate than pull his mouth from your cunt before you came. nose red from how hard he pressed it into your clit, chin dripping from a combination of your wetness and his drool.

a man who humps the bed while he’s going to town, turned on by the fact that you’re turned on, just happy to be of service and drowning in your cunt.

a man who would grow stubble if it meant you would get pleasure from it. he prefers being clean shaven but after you mention that you crave a little more friction, he’s ditching the razor for a couple days so he can rub his face right in your cunt, skin turning flushed. your pleasure is the only thing he really cares about.

a man who will drop to his knees in the shower, hiking one leg over his shoulder while he fucking EATS. it’s a terrible angle and you’re a little worried he’s waterboarding himself down there with the combination of your juices and the water from the shower, but he makes sure you come.

he always makes sure you come.

[123passwort]

ok, need a smoke now 🔥​🤤​

[ballard96]

[satcrns]

it's 3am and you've gotten up to pee when you notice that your husband pope cody is not in his usual spot next to you in the bed.

you turn on the lamp next to your bed, wake yourself up a bit, and then head out into the hallway to find where your husband has ended up, and that's when you see him.

he's taken a chair from your dining room table and set it up outside of your daughter's door. he's sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, his posture straight, and once he notices you in the hallway he moves his gaze up to you.

"andrew?" you question, "what are you doing?"

"she's been having trouble sleeping," is all he says to explain what he's doing. he's not wrong, the past couple of nights your daughter has inevitably ended up in your bed. you've woken up in the middle of the night due to her cold feet pressing into your legs as she shuffles in between you and pope.

when you ask her in the morning she'll tell you that she had a bad dream, and you don't think the way the light from her window casts a shadow on her closet door helps either.

"so you're going to sit here all night?" you ask.

"i wasn't going to sleep anyway," he says, "i'm here if she needs me." you walk closer to him and run your hands through his hair, taking a second to admire your husband and his heart full of so much love.

"do you need anything?" you ask, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. "i can get you a blanket? a snack?"

"i'm fine," he says, but you disappear down the hallway and towards your living room anyway. when you return, you have a blanket in your hand.

"i could've gotten that myself."

"i know," you put the blanket in his lap. you know he's too stubborn to let you do things for him, but that doesn't stop you from doing them.

"i'll be in bed if you need me," you leave him with a kiss and head back to your bedroom.

[liltrinkets]

nsfw, 18+

letting andrew cody dry hump you in bed.

you’re sleepy and he’s an insomniac and too in-his-head to ask if he can do anything since you’re cuddled up in bed like the cutest thing he’s ever seen. you tug him over by the bottom of his shirt mumbling for him to come snuggle.

he obliges, meticulously taking his shirt and pants off, folding them at the foot of the bed, before sliding in next to you, cock hard and pressing into your hip bone. you grin, wiggling against it just to hear him groan.

“sweetheart…” his voice is a raspy drawl, as if he hasn’t used it in days. it just encourages you to roll to your side, hooking one leg over his thigh, digging your heel into his ass so his clothed cock is pressed against your tiny pajama shorts. “you were about to go to bed.”

you grind down as best you can from a side angle, eyes half open. “‘m always awake for you.”

pope groans, hips thrusting involuntarily, cockhead sliding against the thin fabric covering your slit. you giggle, amused at how quickly you brought your big scary boyfriend to his knees in bed. you wiggle so his tip bumps your clit, humming at the sensation. “feels nice, huh popey?” you mumble, hand finding his as it rests on your hip.

he grunts in response, cock smearing precum on your pajamas and thighs as he aimlessly thrusts, head buried in your neck as he takes his pleasure.

you nudge his head down further, encouraging him to latch on to your tit, moaning as he bites down on your nipple. the sound just spurs him on, hips stuttering as he gets closer and closer to the edge. you press your hand to the back of his head, shoving his face into your tits as he starts to cum, his groans and whimpers muffled.

your hand reaches down to pump him twice, grinning at the whine he makes as you tease his overstimulated cock. “sorry andy,” you giggle, not sorry at all. “you sure you got it all out?”

[sleepingbeautiiies]

When Did You Get So Hot? - Animal Kingdom SMAU - PT. 40

+18 MDNI

pt. 39 / pt. 41

summary: reader and cath have a heart to heart. + a prank on pope!

content: pope cody x fem!reader, age gap (reader is around deran's age), VERY lewd conversations, girls supporting girls, baz slander

a/n: thank you to this ask for giving me the idea for the blurb! - taglist is closed!

───﹒♡﹒─ prank ─﹒♡﹒───

───﹒♡﹒─ chapter 40 ─﹒♡﹒───

୨୧ taglist: @gaypoetsblog @17th-sector @edynmeyer1 @fortjackson @tulipbreeze @cardcaptorrin @jeshomie @10ava01 @sunbonesss @ilikebeingdelulu @missykoaladelulu @caridundermifflin @pagingmrsabbot @supernaturalsuperhero @whore4fictionalmen19 @mentallyilldarling @frankiebeeslyshouse @wylewhims @themoviefangirl-blog @bearymuchso @killora1708 @kaorisakamotofan @stevesaint-eve @stoptheinnocence @oddin4ry @aurora-pandora626 @1dhoe93 @sivanstreasure @tatoda @virgoalert123 @stylesonlyangel4 @nateisblue @joelmillersbabygirll @dumbbandpoetic @changbinsrightboob @starsmoonn @kneelforloki @loonyperhapslupin @angelbunny222 @eugene-emt-roe @poemfreak306 @sirens-and-moonflowers @uncertainblissss @vanillafan6 @harrystylesfourthnipple924 @hazydespair @bruhitsmoose @mythologicallyversed @honk4emoboyz @callmefatherr

[sleepingbeautiiies]

When Did You Get So Hot? - Animal Kingdom SMAU - PT. 39

+18 MDNI

pt. 38 / pt. 40

summary: reader and pope have been making up for lost time.

content: pope cody x fem!reader, age gap (reader is around deran's age), VERY lewd conversations, craig and deran STILL being traumatized, mentions of cock warming.

a/n: last chapter was BEEFY so this a little baby one. literally just wrote this on a whim tonight! i have a few more ideas that im planning, but im always open to suggestions or requests! - taglist is closed!

୨୧ taglist: @gaypoetsblog @17th-sector @edynmeyer1 @fortjackson @tulipbreeze @cardcaptorrin @jeshomie @10ava01 @sunbonesss @ilikebeingdelulu @missykoaladelulu @caridundermifflin @pagingmrsabbot @supernaturalsuperhero @whore4fictionalmen19 @mentallyilldarling @frankiebeeslyshouse @wylewhims @themoviefangirl-blog @bearymuchso @killora1708 @kaorisakamotofan @stevesaint-eve @stoptheinnocence @oddin4ry @aurora-pandora626 @1dhoe93 @sivanstreasure @tatoda @virgoalert123 @stylesonlyangel4 @nateisblue @joelmillersbabygirll @dumbbandpoetic @changbinsrightboob @starsmoonn @kneelforloki @loonyperhapslupin @angelbunny222 @eugene-emt-roe @poemfreak306 @sirens-and-moonflowers @uncertainblissss @vanillafan6 @harrystylesfourthnipple924 @hazydespair @bruhitsmoose @mythologicallyversed @honk4emoboyz @callmefatherr

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

FAILED ABORTIONS

PAIRING : soldier boy x non-supe!reader

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

WARNINGS : age gap (given). angst. strong language. pregnancy. mentions of abortions. fear. betrayal. hurt. anger. mentions of influence mentions of sedation. physical abuse. choking. revenge. violence. depictions of murder. sadism. trapped.

A/N : you did it again yall, you made me expand my drabble into a mini-series. this can be read as the first chapter of the series but i’d recommend reading the imagine that began it all first! p.s., the first image is heavily edited so don’t hate, took a lot of work 🤣

“No! No—let me go!” You shout as you thrash against the guards’ grip. “Ben, please! Don’t do this! Ben!!”

But the supe ignores you. Instead, he watches as they take you away from his penthouse, emotionless. Tears stream down your face, both of your arms restrained from wiping them away. You know this is the end, for your baby and possibly you. Words blur into wails, lasting all the way down to the lab in the infamous Vought Tower. Your body begins to tremble as they bring you to a room with eerily white walls and a huge examination table in the middle of it.

“Stop! Please! My baby’s innocent! Don’t do this!” You try to plead with the heartless monsters, but it’s no use.

No amount of begging or crying will help you. The second you’re in the procedure room and your eyes land on the tray of instruments, you fight like you never have before. You kick and scream and use dead weight, but they wrestle against you, and what you do doesn’t matter. They win the round once they throw you on the table. A nurse enters, carrying a folded gown and wastes no time trying to redress you as the guards hold you still, but she struggles against your will to escape.

Having had enough, one of the men strikes you across the face. The blow forces your head to the side, and a surprised yelp falls from your now sore mouth. Shocked, you pause, and the nurse uses the opportunity to slip on the gown. Blood trickles from your busted lip, and you slowly turn your head to glare at him. If looks could kill, he’d be meeting his maker right about now. She places your wrist in one of the straps, snapping you out of your trance and redirecting your attention. Panic sets in as you gawp at your cuffed arm, so you rebel, forcing the two guards to pin you down so the nurse can strap the rest of your limbs.

This is the end.

You tug against the binds as she leaves to retrieve the doctor, and the men follow behind to stand outside the door. The guard who hit you glances over his shoulder, licking his lips as he stares at the exposed skin on your thighs before meeting your eyes with a wicked smile. Disgust crawls on your skin, feeling as physical as a spider. If Soldier Boy saw how he—! You swallow hard, remembering you’re here because of that fucker. The blinding bright lights above make you sick, but what you know is sure to follow makes you even sicker. Stray hairs cling to your face from tears, making it harder to see. Voices grow louder from outside the room, and your heart races faster than it should’ve.

The door reopens, and you struggle once more, refusing to give up. A woman in a white coat, whom you can only assume is the doctor, enters the room. You plead some more, but like everyone before her, she’s unfazed. How many times has she and everyone else done this that they’re this desensitized to a mother begging for her child’s life, or have they always been this soulless? Lord, if you’re out there, please save us!

The nurse wheels in a portable anesthesia machine and sets it beside the bed. She turns it on, and your heart hammers out of your chest, the beat loud enough in your ears that you can barely make out their exchanged words. The doctor walks over and stands on the opposite side of the bed. She stares down at you before glancing at the nurse, nodding once. What does that mean? You aren’t kept in suspense for long because the next second, a mask is attempted over your mouth and nose.

You move your head so the nurse can’t set it on you easily while struggling to keep your whines within. The doctor grips your chin, holding you still, but lets you go once the mask is secured. You feel like you’re suffocating, and it isn’t because you’re refraining from breathing in the gas. Tears fall around the plastic mask, and once more, with all your might, you pull at the cuffs. This time—to yours and everyone else’s surprise—the strap holding your right wrist breaks loose. You gasp and instantly regret the mistake of inhaling the sedation.

Fuck!

Your mind whirls and you begin to feel loopy, but the adrenaline keeps you focused. You refuse to give up; You’re not going to let your baby die, even if you, yourself, die trying to protect it. Eyes wide with shock and panic, the doctor moves to pin down your arm, but your hand grabs her coat first. With a heavy grunt, you fling her across the small room, then twist your body and grab the first instrument on the tray your hand could reach. Clutching the sharp metal object, you turn around and jam it into the nurse’s chest. She screams in agony, but the fact that she’s still standing makes you stab her again and again and again.

All your anger and hurt from the past hour is released with each and every jab. Blood splatters on your skin, but you ignore it until she finally falls, and you drop the bent tool. With your stained hand, you tear off your mask and toss it away. You gasp for air as you glance at the woman whose body is now Swiss cheese, and watch as the blood pools out of her. Fighting nausea and vertigo, you undo your left wrist quickly. A small part of you feels a little remorse, but then you look at the miscreant you tossed and are reminded that they tried to take away the one thing you were proud of in your life. You hadn’t noticed at the time, but the force of the doctor hitting the wall had left a crater in it.

Wait...did I..?

How the fuck—?! It was as if you had super strength. And then it hits you. No...that’s not...could it be possible? She watches you with fright, and she’s right to do so. You just killed a woman and tossed the other like she was the clothes off your back.

You fumble with your foot restraints as the guards enter the murder room. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She picks herself up off the ground and runs past them, out of the door. FUCK! Figuring you did it once, you try again, this time using both of your hands to pull at one of the soft shackles that keep you bed-bound.

I-It worked!

Just as the guards rush you, you pull on the last restraint and break free from your padded chains. One grabs you from behind, and the other takes out his taser. Using your feet, you push off the bed, and both you and the man fall to the ground. Sirens begin to sound off in the laboratory, and you know that’s your warning bell. It’s only a matter of time before backup storms in and your window to escape closes.

You pry yourself from his arms just as the other man pulls the trigger, deploying the barbed probes into your gown. Flinching, you close your eyes, waiting—expecting to be electrocuted, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, you feel...nothing. You open your eyes and realize it didn’t even pierce your skin just caught the material of your clothing. All three of you freeze, stunned by the fact that you weren’t a jolting mess. Maybe you had his invulnerability too.

A menacing smile stretches across your blood-splattered face; Finally, a fighting chance! You yank the probes out of your gown, but before you can elbow the man beside you, he gets on top of you and wraps his hands around your neck. The human instinct you have expects pain and a sudden decrease in oxygen, but like the tase, it doesn’t come. Your first thought is to push him off using your legs, but the way he sits, you can’t maneuver them to do so. So instead, you grab his hair and begin pulling his scalp back.

His blood-curdling scream can hardly be heard above the much louder noise as his hands fly to stop yours. With his hold no longer around your neck, you use the opportunity to punch his Adam’s apple. His cry abruptly stops as he struggles to breathe, desperately gasping for air as one of his hands drops to clutch his throat. He slides off of you, and while he’s distracted, you jump up from the ground. The second guard discards the taser and draws his handgun. Before you can react, his finger squeezes the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot hits you before the bullet does. Your heart stops, and your eyes widen in fear. You’re unable to look down, unsure if bulletproof was part of your package, but the look in the man’s eyes reassures you. After a glance at your untouched belly, you bum rush him, using your shoulder to plow him into the wall. He drops his weapon, and as he groans in pain, you swipe the gun off the floor. Without hesitation, you shoot him in the head before turning towards the other guard.

The man shudders, and you know he’s regretting his previous actions. Your sinister grin returns, and you bask in his terror. Slowly, you raise the deadly weapon and aim it between his eyes. He begs for his life as you prolong his death, forcing him to feel the full extent of utter dread. The guard begins to ugly cry, snot and all, and you laugh. Not so big and bad now, are you? Without drawing it out any longer, you blast his soul out of his body, and like a flip of a switch, his cries cease. The ringing in your ears is almost as loud as the sirens above.

Your heart pounds like you’ve run a marathon, and all you want to do is collapse. From getting railed by the supe you thought you had built a connection with earlier to crying your eyes out in fear of losing you and your baby’s lives to saving them—you’re completely exhausted. With the sirens and warning lights still strong, you know you can’t crash, not here, not now. You have to make it home and grab a few things before getting out of town. If I’m that lucky...

Your hand finds your three-month-old belly, and you swear you feel a flutter. Though it’s extremely rare, you have faith that it’s your child reminding you that you’re in this together. Nothing and no one will get in your way, not even Soldier Boy. And so you exit the pale room only to be blinded by more white. You scan the laboratory for the one that got away, and catch her standing near the exit. With eyes as wide as saucers, she begins to shut the heavy steel door, attempting to lock you in until backup can arrive. Nuh uh! You sprint faster than you ever have before and shove the door open, sending her sliding across the marble floor.

“P-please, don’t kill m-me. I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to h-hurt you.” As if her begging would warrant mercy. “Ple—she’s over here! Help, she’s—!”

The gunshot echoes down the hall, and before you have time to savor the woman’s death, you hear heavy footsteps stampede your way. I need to get out of here. You run toward the stairs, and the camera in the corner of the hall catches your eye. Big Brother was watching. You take out the surveillance camera and open the door to the stairway, but your heart drops when you hear more footsteps march down the stairs. Shit... You glance at the elevator near where you killed the doctor, and above it you see the landing position indicator on level 1, making their way down to you.

You’re trapped.

FUCK!

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[123passwort]

kill them all, queen!

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

imagine telling soldier boy you’re pregnant and it doesn’t go well.

he pulls out with a grunt, then collapses beside your spent body. your heart beats faster than usual from both the intensity of the orgasm and the little human/supe growing inside your womb. ben on the other hand, doesn’t have a drop of sweat on his sculpted body. part of you is envious, wishing you had the same stamina as he. he sits up, his head leaning against the headboard as he waits for you to catch your breath.

once you do, he comments, “i’m surprised you didn’t ask for me to go harder. you usually do.”

“i figured i need to get used to being handled more gently.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

“didn’t say it was.”

“so why the sudden change?”

you turn your head, and with a smile on your face, you confess, “i’m pregnant.”

he laughs at your words, a little too hard. “t-that’s a good one, doll.”

“i’m serious.”

“sure you are.”

“i am.”

his brows crease before his neck turns to finally look at you. his eyes search your face to detect a lie, but he can’t find any. you’re telling the truth, and that was a problem for him. he already had one kid he couldn’t stand; he didn’t need another. your hand finds its way to cradle your swelling belly, and his eyes follow. oh, fuck. he noticed you gaining weight, but figured you were just getting fat. there was no use in insulting you; he knew good pussy when he had it, and he wasn’t going to ruin that. but then you had to go and tell him you’re pregnant.

“you’re shitting me, right?”

“not at all.”

he almost looks unbothered when he turns away and says, “‘s alright. we gotta doctor here that’ll take that sucker right out and have you fuck-ready in a few days.”

“w-what?”

“you think you’re the only one who’s been impregnated by a supe? we have a doc on standby for these type of situations. vought doesn’t want another ryan.”

his words unsettle your tummy, forcing you to sit up. “ben, i’m not...i’m keeping it.”

“the hell you are.”

you’re mortified. you weren’t sure how this conversation would go, but this was something you didn’t plan for. sure, you figured he’d mention the abortion, maybe even push for it, but this...no, this was on another level. he isn’t giving you a choice.

“i-i’m not killing our baby!”

“relax, you won’t be. trained professionals will.”

hell, no. you hop out of bed and practically run to your discarded clothes, needing to re-dress as fast as possible so you can get the hell out of there.

“nuh uh. no. absolutely not. no one’s fucking touching me. not, you. not those fucking doctors—!”

he clutches your arm and forcefully pulls you away from your clothes. he tugs you into his chest, his nostrils flaring and his face hard as stone. you’ve never seen him angrier. his fingers dig into your fragile skin, and though you whimper, he doesn’t let up. tears flood your eyes from pain, but they fall once you hear his words:

“i’m afraid i must insist.”

“ben, please. just let me go, y-you don’t have to help—”

“you’re not going anywhere, doll.”

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: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, headers, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[123passwort]

incorrect textposts 16/?