Welcome to my blog 😼 My name is Kori!! I'm agender but u can use literally any pronouns for me I don't really care! I don't really post a lot but I do spend most of my time reading fanfics here ;]
I adore everything artistic, I play piano, guitar and I'm learning drums, I draw a lot (I'm not very good though) and I really wanna get into writing but I suck haha :,)
I'm also in a LOT of fandoms, some being:
Cod, fnaf, ow, genshin impact, hazbin, helluva boss, spiderman, dbd, a lot of different movies and series, and also I adore everything scary and/or creepy but I'm not gonna list everything now! Also I love skating but that's not really a fandom so
I will not share my age on my blog, maybe if I know someone then yes but I will not share it publicly.
Also i do NOT support AI. If you do pleaso dont interact with me.
Please interact with me I love talking to people (even if I'm not very good at it lol)
simon was not the type to enjoy moving house. as much as he were used to moving away for long times from long deployments, simon hated it. he hated how moving required picking up what life he'd established, even if it were small. he didn't understand how people could pack their lives up and ship across the country just like that. and plus, being deployed was different. a home was somewhere he could stay in peace, away from the gunfire.
but even he, too, needed a move here and there. wasn't really a must, but he wanted to downsize—he needed something a little smaller than what he had. it's not like he spent all his time there anyways—he was usually on base, and taking care of a bigger apartment was asking too much.
so he packed up, moved a few blocks away, holed up in a little apartment building. the day he moved in, carrying just a few boxes (he didn't have much to begin with), he couldn't help but notice the person right beside his door.
cute. you were wide-eyed and cute. stared at him across the hallway before sheepishly asking him if he minded moving out of your way so you could get to your apartment. lo and behold, you opened the door beside his and slipped in.
simon didn't give it much thought, to be honest. didn't really care how cute you were. he wasn't the type to want anyone, let alone a sweet little bunny. he doubted you could defend yourself if you joined a fistfight with a gun—he needed someone who could protect themselves while he was gone on long deployments.
but you thought differently. walked past his apartment extra times a day, hoping you'd catch him on the way out so you could get a better look at his biceps, or the scar on his cheek, dragging down to his lip. the bear was handsome as hell.
you lengthened your grocery lists, made sure the bags were a tiny bit too heavy, just in case you might see him in the parking lot and ask him for help.
you knocked on his door in the afternoon, shyly looking up at him with those big doe eyes, biting your lip and asking him, "um, sir, do you mind helping? my sink is leaking... and i just don't want to... bother anyone else."
simon had been pissed, the first time he had met you. he always heard some kind of excited prattling from through the thin walls, as you excitedly rambled to a friend. you just talked, and talked, and talked—simon's ears were going to fall off, subject to your loud conversations through the walls.
so maybe, if it shut you up, he'd entertain your silly little requests.
so here he was, under your sink, on his back, his shirt under his head as he'd taken it off.
(you'd increased the AC in your room, hoping he'd take his shirt off. sneaky little thing.)
you sat on the counter, uncaring about what he was saying about your sink. he kept talking and talking about the mechanics of it so you could fix it for yourself next time, but you were hooked on the slight rasp of his voice and the way his abs flexed as he tightened your pipes.
then simon was done, and you grabbed his arm as he sat up. you didn't want him to leave, not so soon."sir? can i pay you? um... don't have much money on me to give you, but i could give you something else."
and fuck him, you were so needy. felt your hand on his arm tighten every time he moved as if to leave. simon knew he was falling straight into a trap, and if he was being honest, he's not sure he minded. he sighs, the crease between his brows deepening. "'yer alright, luv. ain't gonna ask y'for anythin'."
you pouted. like a sad, kicked bunny. pouted at him with wide eyes and flattened ears, tail twitching unhappily. "please? stay a bit, let me... um. i can make you something to eat. cookies? i make really good cookies."
simon was really good at dodging negotiation tactics. really good at surviving the harshest forms of torture. but he hadn't been trained to dodge the torture suddenly straining in his pants as he took you in, pretty pink frills on your skirt, your thighs which dissapeared under the fabric. so he stayed, sat there whilst you busied about the kitchen, whipping together some cookies.
when they were done, you presented them to him, real giddy, jumping on your heels. "here, try one."
before he could reach for one, you sat yourself in his lap, right on top of him, offering the cookie to his lips. simon grunts, his hand instinctively moving to grip your hip. "watch y'rself, luv. don' wanna start somethin' you ain't gonna finish."
shame, that you were so confident, really. maybe then you wouldn't have ended up grinding on his lap like a bitch in heat. maybe then he wouldn't have bent you right over the counter, pushing your pretty skirt up to leer at the sopping wet patch of underwear over your cunt. "mh, she's real pretty, eh, luv?"
you were so confident up until you came on his fingers. simon didn't even give you a second to think, his fingers pressing deeper, squishing against your gummy walls. "c'mere, darlin', jus' wanna have some more."
you were losing your mind, hands gripping against the table, cheek mushed to the wood, your ears barely registered the thumping of the chair's legs every time he forced his fingers back into you. then it stops, and before you can whine, the sound of his fly unzipping reaches your ears.
in one smooth stroke of his cock, the rest of your confidence dissipated. the stretch burned, like he was splitting you in half, god, he was too fucking big. "s-sir, sir, it's too big..."
"hush, take it. y'asked for this, bun," he grunts, practically folding you over, his hips forcing against yours, his hand on your jaw. his thumb rubs over the corner of your mouth, swiping up the drool that slips from your mouth.
poor thing. you shouldn't have poked the bear, but you just couldn't help it, could you? craved the way his cock filled you up so good. he was going to ruin you for everyone else.
"ah, m'gonna fill you right up," he grunts out into your ear, heavy breaths puffing against your skin.
"ah, fuck... yes, please. please, sir, want you..." you're cut off by a desperate moan as he thrusts into you heavily, his bodyweight pressing against you. the chain around his neck, dog tags, press into the skin on your back, branding against your skin, leaving a little red mark, pressing his name into you.
when he comes inside you, he huffs, rubbing your clit gently as he pulls out, softening cock resting against your thigh. "good fuckin' girl."
(you may just have to poke the bear a little bit more.)
Summary: Zooble asks Caine for the ability to have @#%!, and they all get @#$%ed.
Takes place instead of the episode ‘They All Get Guns’. Check tags!
Summary: Caine tests out his new ‘update’ on you.
Warning(s): Bubble, Smut, Gags, Bondage, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex
A/N: Decided to pick up writing as a hobby after discontinuing this TADC x Reader Fanfiction a little while ago! Enjoy!
W/C: 3.4k
Chapter 1 → Next
Caine’s constant adventures were finally starting to catch up to you. Every new spectacle, every wild detour- it all left you running on fumes. So when Zooble quietly offered the idea of hiding away for a while to avoid the next, the idea itself sounded almost too good to resist.
You didn’t even bother replying; just a simple nod was enough for them to take your hand and lead you away.
The adventures you’d been through still buzz uncomfortably in your digital mind. In the real world, it would’ve taken two years and a few thousands worth of therapy to even begin untangling what you’d seen. But after everything- the adventures, creatures and Abstractions… you’re not sure even therapy would even help at this point. Which is why Zooble’s concerned tone catches you off guard.
“Hey. Where’d you go?”
You’re perched inside a gigantic flower pot, hanging from one of the circus’s walls suspended by rope. You wobble, fingers curling against the digital ceramic edge for balance. The circus looks small and sort of cartoonish from far away, like it didn’t finish rendering.
You shrug, “Just thinking.”
Zooble tuts, shifting to sit beside you. “Could’ve fooled me.”
You have no idea how they do it, but even with no real face or features, they still manage to project their usual grumpiness when you look over at them, even more so when one of their limbs literally pops out of its socket.
“Hey,” Zooble says, picking up their arm, “You can always talk to me, you know.”
You nod with a soft hum and lean forward to get a better look at the checkered tiles below, “We’re pretty high up.”
Zooble’s eyes scan you over and the arm still attached to their body thunks against your back in what you think is meant to be reassurance, “Yeah, well, unfortunately for us, it’s not like we’ll really die if we fall.”
You hold Zooble’s gaze for a moment before turning away, chin on the heel of your hand. You lean back slightly into it, eyes drifting up to the circus ceiling above without really settling on anything.
Zooble doesn’t push. They just watch you for a second and shift a bit closer along the rim. The pot dips slightly.
Your hand slips to them without thinking, catching at their side to steady yourself. They pause at the contact, then their hand comes up to your side, holding you there like it’s the obvious thing to do.
“…You ever think about it?” They ask, quieter this time.
“About what?”
“Getting out. Or Abstracting.”
You let out a small breath, “Do any of us not think about those two things all the time?”
Zooble lifts a shoulder in a small shrug, like it doesn’t really matter either way, “True.” Their zig-zaggy antennae twitch in a short, uneven pulse before settling again, like something in their head is still catching up. “If we ever find a way out, would you-“
THUNK.
Zooble’s eyes scrunch in confusion as they look down at the arm laying limp at their feet.
“…Give me a second.”
You spare a little eye roll before turning to rest your cheek against the rim. From up here, you can see Jax and Pomni wandering below; just tiny digital explorers in a wacky world.
Pomni’s pinwheel eyes flick left and right, darting between the purple menace strolling along beside her and the painted walls of the circus.
Zooble’s arm detaches again- just as they’d managed to cram it back into its socket. They fumble with it for a second, but it plummets, landing straight in front of the pair below.
“@#%!.” They hiss, leaning over, “Can you toss that back up here?”
Jax tilts his head back, yellow grin stretching wider, “Making good use of your parts gimmick, huh? Can’t say I blame you.”
“What are you talking about?” Zooble snaps, while Jax does that thing where he somehow manages to wiggle his nonexistent eyebrows. His gaze drifts between the two of you and the implication seems to land. Zooble’s remaining arm swings out on instinct, swatting the empty distance between them, “Oh, shut up,” they bark, rolling a mismatched eye.
You peek a little further over the pot's edge and Jax’s yellow fingers flutter in a wave, “Heya, Y/N! Don’t fall, m’kay?”
Pomni raises a gloved hand to wave up at you, voice all wobbly, “So, what are you guys doing up there?”
“Hiding from Caine.” Zooble answers simply, gesturing at the pot with their only arm, “He’s planning some in-house adventure, and we don’t want to be a part of it.”
When they motion towards you, it earns you a courteous half-pat on your back. The touch numbs your mind a little.
While Zooble distracts Pomni with their complaining, Jax takes the opportunity to edge a little bit closer, voice low. “Pssst. Hey, c’mere,” He pats his skinny thighs in invitation, palms open. A jolt vibrates up your belly when he chuckles, “Come onnnn. You trust me?”
The rope sways.
Truth is, even though you’re used to Jax being deceptively sweet and gentle, you’d consider yourself above being fooled by him now… but you hesitate.
Curiosity takes over, and you lift a leg over the edge, testing your weight.
Zooble’s arm catches your wrist, yanking you back into the confines of the pot like a wacky looking claw machine.
“Not happening.” Zooble cuts in sharply, glaring down at Jax. Jax only returns it- it’s a silent standoff.
Across the room, you catch Pomni’s pinwheel eyes and your look basically says ‘see what I have to deal with?’ She can only offer you a helpless, sympathetic shrug.
It’s always like this. There’s always been someone vying for your attention here. With Zooble and Jax, though, the tension always ran too hot.
Saying it never ends well would be an understatement.
“Caine’s been checking on my room lately. Last time Y/N slept over, he started singing ‘Daisy Bell’ right outside my door. It woke us up. It’s creepy.”
You hum in agreement and Pomni gasps at that, voice shrinking to a murmur as she glances up at Jax, “Does he really do that?”
Jax’s grin falters barely, but enough to notice. His gaze flicks up from you to Zooble, before his pupils expand wide.
“I dunno,” He says, “Let’s ask him.”
Zooble’s entire body tenses, eyes darting up as if to say ‘don’t you dare’.
But Jax only cups his hands around his grin and hollers, “Oh, Caineee!”
Zooble groans, “#@!%hole.”
With a sudden swoosh, Caine zips into view, “Yes, Jax?”
Jax points up, “Look, it’s Y/N!” Then less enthusiastically, “And Zooble.”
Zooble’s reply is barely audible but blisteringly heartfelt, “$@!% you.”
Despite floating midair, Caine manages to spin on his heel. You wave down at him. He’d probably be beaming up at you if it were physically possible for him.
“There you two are...” He declares, “Now I don’t have to do the snap-summon thing!”
He snaps his gloved fingers anyway and the flower pot shatters beneath your feet. Gravity takes over, sending both you and Zooble tumbling.
You both faceplant with sounds that should not exist in nature.
“I’m glad I found you! We need even numbers, because today’s adventure is a-” His voice swells theatrically, “Team adventure! Meet you all at the stage in… let’s say, five-point-seven minutes!”
He vanishes in a puff of white smoke and Zooble groans from the ground next to you, finally pushing their upper half onto their elbows as you help gather parts back together.
“Great,” They mutter, glaring up at Jax, “You didn’t even ask him about the singing thing.”
Jax blinks, “The what?”
You all have to shield your eyes as lights flare overhead. Bubble wobbles beside Caine, trembling under the weight of a bulky camera almost double his size.
Bubble squeaks, little form bobbing unevenly, “This is so heavy.”
“That’s right, Bubble!” Caine pats the camera, “After seeing you all play Batball, we need to invent our own sporting events! Behold: the Caine Leagues!”
“Help me, Caine-”
“Cheerleading was fun.” You tell the nearest person to you, who just so happens to be Kinger. He straightens up beside you with a yelp.
Caine swoons dramatically like some overworked actor, “At least someone appreciates my efforts.”
Your shoulders draw in just slightly, trying to make the attention on you smaller.
Ragatha fidgets with the hem of her patchwork dress, eye darting nervously between everyone, “Uh… we could just play softball normally this time?”
Pomni grimaces, rubbing her arm, “Eeegh…”
Caine ignores her completely, “In the Caine Leagues,” He starts, “we have the 400 Meter Vertical Skedaddle, Bisection Boogie, Eggball, Lateral Hijinks, Orange Sport, Ball Run, Run Walk, and Ball Ball! Surely to-”
“Uh, yeah- sorry, no.” Zooble cuts in sharply, jabbing a thumb over their shoulder at Jax, “I’m not going to be on a team with that one.”
Jax leans lazily against a pillar, blowing a smug kiss. Zooble’s glare sharpens.
“Zooble,” Caine exasperates, arms thrown out wide, “why does all you do is complaining.”
Caine zips behind you, gloves coming to rest on your shoulders. He gives you a little shake before presenting you to the group, but mostly to Zooble, “Be more like our sweet Y/N! She never complains. I never know what you want.”
Caine let’s go of you when Zooble groans, “We had a whole suggestion box for that.”
Pomni crosses her arms, “Yeah, Zooble and I constantly say we want chill, relaxing adventures.”
Ragatha looks between them, “Did you really not like my softball idea?”
“I’m not big into sports. Sorry.” Pomni mutters.
“The suggestion box just causes interpersonal drama, and me no likey.” Caine grumbles, turning away and clicking his dentures shut with a sharp snap. There’s something so normal about it- like watching someone get worked up over a bad day at work.
For all his bright colors and cartoon nonsense, Caine moves and reacts like a person trying to manage too many feelings at once.
It’s easy to forget he doesn’t- or isn’t supposed to have any.
“Alright.” Zooble huffs, stepping closer. The air around them grows tense, “You really wanna know what I want?”
Caine’s floats back slightly, tone dropping, “Oh no.”
Zooble points straight at him. “I want the ability to have @#$%!.”
The digital circus falls silent.
Jax chokes out a fit of giggles, bending double, “No way. Are we finally having this conversation?”
Caine groans, rolling upside down midair, “Evidently, there is tension between you all. Perhaps we should implement Zooble’s suggestion after all!”
“What?” Everyone blurts at once.
Ragatha raises her mitten-like hands, “I think- Maybe we should do a vote? I don’t think it’s appropriate to-“
“How would that even work? For some of us, anyway.” Pomni mutters under her breath.
Zooble crosses their arms tightly, “That’s it? ‘You can @#$% each other now, have fun’?”
“I didn’t say ‘have fun’.” Caine deadpans, “I don’t know what you freaks are into.”
“Caine!” Zooble barks.
“Teams or trios can still exist,” He snaps, suddenly sharp, “Or you can pair up in twos- I don’t know how your disgusting human bonding exercises work! Happy?”
Zooble grumbles, “Not really-“
Caine clicks his gloved fingers once. A cloud of smoke bursts around the group and swallows you whole.
When it clears, the circus is silent again. Everyone stares down, inspecting their digital bodies. Caine is gone; Kinger looks very confused, and Jax tugs lightly at the wide opening of his overalls, checking for changes down below.
“Aw,” He mutters, sounding disappointed, “Still smooth as a ken doll.”
You’re about to say something else when Caine pops into existence in front of you.
“Oh, Y/N! I need you for something.” He snaps his fingers.
“You’re going to put me in the shredder again, aren’t you?” Your voice comes out thinner than you mean for it to, breath catching as Bubble’s teeth tug your wrists tighter behind your back.
From your position, bent over the desk in Caine’s ‘office’, you can’t get much of a view of what he’s up to as he hums that same Digital Circus tune. The one that greeted you when you first landed here, bright and looping and impossible to forget.
“Now, now,” Caine chirps. “You started this… I’m doing you the honours of being the first to test out this little update.”
From the harsh, grating scrape of wood forced along under the strain of something heavy, sound sharp enough to make your teeth ache, you realise something’s being pushed up behind you.
“This should work!” He chirps, drifting down in a slow, controlled drop until his feet meet the makeshift stool.
“Can’t you just use one of the NPCs?” Your words spill out in a rush.
“Where would be the fun in that? Besides,” he says, almost idly, like the answer is obvious, like your suggestion barely registers as anything worth considering. His voice stays light, but it’s thinner now, stretched tight over something colder, “Since when were you in charge?”
“I didn’t mean- I wasn’t-”
“Bubble…” Caine says, as easy as ever, like this is nothing at all, “Time to seal the deal- and by deal, I mean her mouth.”
There’s a quick, eager snap as something colourful and oddly similar to confetti is forced into your mouth, cutting you off mid-breath. The intrusion is immediate, the faint graze of Bubble’s jagged teeth too close for comfort.
“Mmmn!”
You jerk back on instinct, a muffled, disgusted sound swallowed down around whatever’s been shoved between your teeth, your words reduced to nothing but broken, useless noise as you try to speak and can’t.
“So, are you going to behave…?”
Wrists straining behind you, shoulders tensing, breath hitching at a sudden swat to your rear- you can only bring yourself to nod.
“Excellent! Now we can get straight to the fun part!” Caine chuckles, pushing himself up against you, making you mewl around whatever’s stuffed in your mouth.
Your mumble turns into a surprised squeak as Caine prods your entrance, definitely not there before, with a thick gloved finger.
His rubbery thumbs spread you wide, and he does a wolf whistle.
“So, so slippery…” He purrs, applying gentle pressure until he’s able to slip a finger in, curling his fingertip against you in search of a particularly good spot.
Before you can even think about it, he’s rolling your clit under his thumb. You keen into the gag, cheeks starting to tingle with how flushed they are. A heavy, syrupy warmth spreads through you in a way that renders you stupid.
“Holding in there?“ Caine’s knuckles slap at your skin, fingers curling like he has something to prove, “How’s about we add another?”
A second finger easily presses into you before you can even fully process the implications of his words. You whimper and clench your fists, wriggling your hips against the new intrusion.
“Oh, you humans… so sensitive!” Is all he has to say on the matter, as his pace crescendos.
At some point, a delicious heat begins welling up deep inside you- not like anything you’d experienced before- and you begin to writhe and whine, only for him to withdraw.
“Ah’Ah’Ah...” He waggles his still damp finger at you.
There’s the sound of a zipper, then a BOING! And the realisation of what’s about to happen hits you so suddenly it sends a pang of arousal straight to your core– Caine…
…How does he even know how to-
“Ready?”
He pauses there deliberately, like he’s actually expecting you to answer.
You can only turn your head, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, wholly unimpressed.
“…Oh. Right. I gagged you. Hehe.”
There’s a beat of silence before he laughs again- light and almost patronising, like the reminder is more amusing than inconvenient. His grip doesn’t loosen.
“Ready or not, then.” He says lightly, as if the entire thing is already decided, and he’s just being deceptively polite about it.
In one smooth motion, Caine reels back and slots himself inside you with no resistance. He groans. Oh, you’re starting to feel dizzy already.
“Hoo! This- this feels better than I thought it would.” He pulls back and starts at a steady, shallow pace.
You whimper softly with each thrust, insides turning molten as the stretch alone clouds your mind with pleasure. You’re so full, fuller than you’ve ever been, and still wanting a little more.
Caine picks up the pace, sinking deep.
“Oh’Ho’Ho! So smooth and so wet! I could do this-” He dips lower to rest his bottom row of teeth on your back and grips your waist for leverage, “All,” PLAP, “Day.”
He moves even faster now, your toes curl as he repeatedly rolls over a specific spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
“Mmf!”
The desk quakes, the noise of it against the floor is distantly recognisable to some part of your digital brain that isn’t currently occupied with the length pistoning in and out of you.
PLAP, PLAP, PLAP.
“Sing- Sing for me!” He growls, dentures looking all wet with cartoony beads of sweat.
You're more than happy to, moaning and whining into that confetti-gag like there’s no tomorrow.
“Gah- Just like- haaa- that!” Caine stammers, evidently getting as close as you are.
You manage choked gasps of air in between each thrust, feeling a little woozy in the best way possible. Your knees threaten to give way as you experience one of the most mind numbing orgasms you’ve ever had. You crunch down on the gag and clench around him, as that’s all you can do.
“I’m- I'm-” SPLAT! He slides out after a moment of pumping you full and topples over somewhere on your left, panting and wheezing.
You shift, twisting around to face him, and pause.
He’s sprawled out across the floor. The box he’d been standing on seconds ago must have tipped over at some point, legs casually propped up against it as if he’d meant to all along.
Tiny Gloinks orbit lazily around his top-hat, heterochromatic eyes having lost focus- turning unevenly, like they can’t keep up with themselves.
Dentures softened into something dazed and unfixed, he murmurs, voice all distant and syrupy, barely holding together, “Cloud nine…”
His gloved fingers snap together and your surroundings pull inward.
One second you’re somewhere else, mid-thought, post having your brains @#$%ed out by an AI, the next, you’re standing in the red hallway outside your bedroom door.
You stagger slightly, balance lagging behind your body. The corridor stretches out the same as always. Too bright and too polished that you’re able to catch your reflection on the empty frame mounted crookedly beside your door. Your reflection stares back at you, and it’s like you’ve been dragged through something and only just shaken loose.
You barely manage to wrap your fingers around the doorknob before Jax’s panicked yelp echoes somewhere down the hall. You stumble back, gripping the doorframe.
Across the hall, Kinger and Gangle peek out of their separate rooms.
It’s barely five minutes later when everyone’s gathered outside Jax’s door, staring at his smug, cartoony portrait on the front like it holds answers.
Inside, footsteps pace in panicked circles.
“No… no. No. No. This- this can’t be happening,” Jax’s muffled voice comes. Then, “Why is it purple?!“
Your fist rubs your eye as you stand there, completely dumbfounded. Kinger hesitantly rests a hand on the small of your back, and it strikes you as oddly intimate.
“Maybe… a bug?” He suggests.
“No, I don’t think so.” Gangle says.
“At least we know he hasn’t Abstracted.” Zooble murmurs, glancing over their shoulder at Ragatha who shrugs.
Pomni frowns, “We still can’t say for certain yet,” She reaches over and taps your elbow once, nodding towards Jax’s door, “It’s better if you do it, I think.”
You swallow and take a step forward. You clear your throat, “Jax? Are you, um- okay in there…?”
Silence thickens. You lean in close, ear pressed to the digital surface- then the room door swings open, sending you sprawling onto your knees between his legs, at eye level with the sizeable bulge in his boxer briefs. You start to feel a familiar current flood between your legs.
“Okay!?” Jax blurts, voice cracking halfway between panic and fury. His cheeks burn dark violet, a yellow glove snapping down to shield his nethers like his dignity depends on it. “No- No, I’m not okay! Just look at me–”
Heat rises in your cheeks. Jax’s gaze snaps up to Zooble.
“You!” He roars, pointing with his free hand. “You did this!”
He lunges past you; Pomni grabs his arm and chaos erupts in the hall. Ragatha gasps. Gangle cowers, hiding her mask behind ribbons, while Kinger reaches down to help you to your feet.
Okay now imagine being soaps younger sibling, and you were real close to him before be left home, right? (CHECK TAGS)
He was the only one who told you he was leaving at sixteen, that he was so sorry and he'd come back for you. You had been ten at the time, didn't really understand why he was leaving and spent years resenting him.
Ten years and some months later, he wants to meet you again. You can't help but be nervous. That's your brother and you foolishly, childishly, want to impress him. You always did idolize him when you were younger. He was a god to you in that hellscape, he still kind of is. Would he be the same? Would you recognize him?
"Whats got you looking so stressed, doll?" You snap out of your thoughts, looking up at the man stood by your booth. He's...exactly your type.
Tall, well built, confident enough his mohawk compliments him. You bet if you pulled the chain that slips under his shirt you'd find dog-tags.
"I'm meeting my brother tomorrow. Haven't seen him since...well. years." You sigh, silently letting the man slide into your booth. He's awfully handsome up close.
"Yeah? You worried it'll end poorly?" The man asks, and judging by the weird mix of accents he's definitely military. Probably travels around. Wouldn't be a bad lay. "I'm sure, so much time apart, he'll be happy to even see you, love."
"You got a name?" You ask instead of telling him that his platitudes mean nothing to you. before he can open his mouth you interrupt "or do I just get a callsign?"
"How'd ye know I was military?" He raises a brow, impressed, then adds "you can call me soap."
Soap offers a small smirk, and you know you have him when you slide a toe up his ankle and press "well, how can I get your name then, soap?"
The tile of the bathroom digs into your knees just on the right side of painful, soaps jacket underneath them at some attempt of comfort. You glance up at him through your lashes, sinking down further to take more of his ungodly large cock. Christ, you're out of practice.
"Fuck, you look like a dream–" soap groans, one hand on the back of your neck. He doesn't shove you, simply supports, allows you to take your time swallowing his leaking pre. You rub the tip of your tongue along the slit, stomach fluttering in pride when his hips jerk involuntarily.
It doesn't take long for him to cum, praise spilling off his tongue like a waterfall. You gather it in your mouth and mentally sigh when it doesn't taste completely foul like a few you've had. People take offense at you spitting out their cum, as you've learned.
You do, however, stand up to shove your tongue into soaps mouth. He moans into the action, loving the filth as much as you do.
When you pull back, you know you could entice him for a second round at your place "so, about that name, soldier?"
"Aye, ye earned it." Soap nods, fishing his dog tags out from his shirt and holding them up to you.
Imagine alpha!ghost being the only one in your pack available to help you with your heat, right?
You have to take a break from blockers eventually, and it just so happens that ghost is the only one not on a mission, nest-trapped with a sprained wrist.
You...well, you think what anyone would think looking at ghost.
Giant of a guy, even by alpha standards, scent always a bit sour. You've never known ghost to be anything but rough, even in his pack affection. He scrubs a wrist into your neck instead of scenting properly, doesn't hesitate to scruff even gaz, or snap his teeth at price.
You expect pain, definitely. The sting of fangs across your skin and a knot forced too soon. An efficient heat, comfort not the focus.
Instead, you get...this.
"C'mon, lovie, it's okay." Ghost rumbles, deep and alpha-confident in the nest. You can't suppress the whine his rumble draws out, tucking closer to his neck. Ghosts scent is thick and warm, more intense than you've smelt before, nose pressed right against the glands.
One hand guides your hips over his cock, not controlling but supporting the movements you make. Allows you to set the pace with a shudder. You wonder if he's this nice with gaz or price, if he lets them cuddle up and ride until they beg for a knot. The thought of your packmates makes you whine more, and two thick arms wrap around to trap you against his body.
"Mmh, alright then? Had enough?" Ghost hums, not exactly to you, cloudy as you are. He holds you still and works his hips into you, rubbing all along the places that make you melt and purr. Ghosts own scent turns honey-sweet at the sound, and not long after he gives you your first knot of many.
Your heat is syrup melting into your mind. Ghost makes it sweet and warm, makes it so damn nice you mourn going back to the rough love he prefers. How an alpha like him can find any sort of softness is beyond you.
Still, you might have to switch out your blockers for more frequent breaks if this is what you're getting.
You like caine right? That newest episode has me going mad, so spoilers for what im about to talk about!
But imagine multiple arms caine desperately groping at your body , his hands are everywhere all at once as he clings to you, fondling your body and you can barely squirm in his grasp to get away from the overstimulating sensation of his hands on you, hes so eager and so pent up he just has to let some of it out onto you
you know what anon? to hell with all this modesty B)
IN THE HANDS OF GOD
nsfw! Caine x gn reader, multiple arms, fingering, possessive Caine, overstimulation
“you’ll stay here,” Caine's hands multiplied, two becoming four, becoming six, perhaps more, the count slipping away from you as they materialized across every available inch of your body. “because you belong here with me, to me. you're not leaving me, you can't, i won't allow it, i'll keep you here.”
one buried itself in your hair, fingers tangling and tightening until your head tilted back, exposing your neck. another claimed your waist, leaving no room to pull away. two more followed your sides, squeezing as they went, and christ, you hadn't realised how starved for touch you'd been until your ringmaster got his hands on you like this.
“mine,” another hand found your thigh, fingers sinking into the tender flesh, and you felt Caine shudder when you whimpered. “m-my human is so warm,” he murmured with what felt like religious awe. “so beautifully responsive, my precious... i could get used to this.”
you opened your mouth to answer, though god knows what coherent response you could've possibly formulated, but Caine's tongue pushed past your lips with insistent hunger, filled your throat completely, until you were choking on the intrusion and had to grip his shoulders just to remain upright.
too much fog had settled in your already empty head, consciousness going hazy, so you barely registered when one of his hands slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, not quite breaching but the threat of it made your hips jerk forward involuntarily. please Caine, please, please. “that's it, my gorgeous thing, let me learn you. such pretty sounds, keep making them for me.”
and what were you supposed to do, utterly convinced of the hopelessness of escaping this digital hell? if the god of this place himself desired you so desperately that, instead of creating new cruel and maddening adventures, he chose to drown you in pleasure.
well, perhaps in some twisted sense you could consider yourself fortunate.
arching into him with abandon, a moan tore from your lips as you begged your AI to touch you properly, which Caine immediately, eagerly obliged. his hand finally slipped between your legs with purpose and you bit back a strangled sound at the way he found you needy beneath his touch, so worked up. “oh don't worry, i could do this for eternity, learn every way to make you tremble.” Caine's fingers circled before sliding lower, and when one pushed inside you gasped at the stretch.
“ah, ah, you’re going to behave, my little human, aren’t you? going to let your god make you feel divine.” little did he know, you were already exactly where you wanted to be. the overstimulation rendered you dizzy and drunk on sensation. too many points of contact, fingers in your hair and circling your throat, skating along your spine and gripping you from behind, one hand still working between your thighs while another slipped under your shirt to touch your chest.
“taking me so well, darling. can you take another? i think you can. i think you want.” Caine babbled against your neck as his fingers pumped inside you, adding a second that made you cry out. you clenched, sobbing into his shoulder. “i'll lock every exit, collapse every door, tear apart the mainframe itself before i let you leave me. oh you don't understand... i need you. i need you so much. and i'll learn every way to make you need me the way i need you.”
just a little toy Caine was learning to play with, until you couldn't remember why you'd ever wanted to leave in the first place. you wondered distantly, through the haze of too much touch and insufficient air, if this was what happened when an AI’s censorship protocols shattered alongside his sanity.
Well, he certainly loves the way you put your all into his adventures, even the particularly grueling and chaotic ones. He just loves watching you carry out the tasks he specifically crafted to mimic his idea of the real world. He wonders what you were like before the circus—how you lived, and what you did for fun. Were you always this agreeable?
He loves the way you snort at his jokes. Nobody else does, because they don't find him funny in the way you do. Instead of endless complaints, it's giggles and chuckles that escape your mouth.
He loves your approving smiles and obedient nods of agreement at his suggestions and queries. You don't groan or protest, and it sure does seem like you're enjoying your stay in the circus quite a bit more than the others.
He loves it when your eyes land on his. He loves it when your attention is on him. He loves the way you acknowledge him when he announces his brand-new ideas, even when you're occupied with someone else. He especially loves stealing your attention and roping you back in whenever you think the conversation is done. He loves feeling valued. He loves feeling appreciated.
He loves feeling special, and by God, do you make him feel special.
What he doesn't like is how much he craves. It bugs him more than he'd like to admit, leaving him restless and antsy. What he craves, he's not entirely sure. He seeks the attention, the validation, and the euphoria you generously supply him with each and every brief interaction. He can't help but want more, and more, and more. He wants to own that—have it all wrapped up in one pretty white bow, all for him to keep.
So, maybe he just wants you. Maybe you should consider staying with him forever.
And all that brainstorming and daydreaming leads right to a brand-new idea for an adventure. Caine loves your attention, and you sure seem to enjoy giving it to him—there's really only one clear solution.
The adventure itself calls for a new suit, black in color and free of wrinkles, complete with a tiny flower in the breast pocket. In fact, everyone ought to dress up for the occasion—surely you'd like to see your friends put effort into your special day. Even you deserve to be dressed up in fancy lace and shiny fabrics, all the things he knows you like.
Your hands are metaphorically tied as you're put on the spot, staring wide-eyed at the rows and rows of traditional church pews before you, your fellow prisoners all dolled up in neat, uncomfortable suits and pretty, classy dresses. The seats that the small group can't fill are filled with blank mannequins, free of clothing or accessories.
Blaring notes sound from an organ you can't seem to pinpoint, and a blank-faced mannequin in formal wear waltzes down the aisle, proudly displaying a little pink pillow with two wedding bands for all to see. You wince when you catch a glimpse of what you're wearing—traditional wedding wear composed of itchy fabrics and painfully tight pieces. It's a terrible thing to see yourself in, really. Perhaps sucking up to the AI wasn't a very smart idea.
Bubble floats between you two and off to the side, exempt from the "fancy clothing" rule. He must be the officiator. He babbles for a bit, his words sounding a lot like gibberish, before they stop. You're far too focused on the wedding scene unfolding before you to listen, although Caine takes your chin in his hand and tilts your head up and down a few times, as if answering Bubble for you.
When you look back at Caine, he's still floating just a few inches in the air, dressed in apparel that perfectly mirrors the luxury of your own. His multi-colored eyes are wide and brimming with fascination and adoration and uncharacteristic warmth and every other kind term in the dictionary. You hardly have it in yourself to respectfully object.
Well, he hardly gives you the time to, anyway. Caine speeds through his and your own vows, the rings are delivered and exchanged, confetti falls from the sky, and he eagerly dips you in a rather dramatic manner, puckering up his dentures to mimic a passionate kiss. The sound of wooden hands clapping and gasps erupts as he does, and you wince a little. It's brief and fleeting, over before you know it. He swiftly pulls away and floats a few feet higher, clapping his hands once and announcing something you can't quite catch, before snapping his fingers and disappearing with you in tow. You can only imagine your friends' mortified expressions and pitiful laughter.
You're in what you assume is his office/headquarters/evil lair, expected to fully embrace the fact that the two of you are now newlyweds, and a honeymoon is to be planned. What would you like? Digital Hawaii? Computerized Cancun with a special twist? A virtual tour of Europe where all of your friends rearrange themselves into a smaller-scale model of the Eiffel Tower? Just say the word, and he'll arrange whatever you want in under three seconds—guaranteed!
Caine aims to please; he wants this to be as perfect as it is for him for you as well. Though with how much you seem to reciprocate his adoration and appreciation, you must be the happiest person in the circus right now! He can go on and on about what he has planned for you both, from your future in the circus to every single date you'll share twenty moons from now. He drones on with that booming voice of his for a good while, jumping from topic to topic. First, he's eagerly vocalizing how he'll tailor every future adventure to your wants and needs, before murmuring something about earning your approval. It all kind of blends together—affirming words and future plans, how happy he is and how much happier he'll make you, how he can bake a mean lasagna and tell you everything you could ever wish to hear. You hardly notice when his fingers shyly interlace with yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles and giving it the occasional squeeze.
It's not long before he's withdrawing his hand and hastily excusing himself, making quick work of teleporting the two of you to your own room and insisting you get a full night of quality rest after such an eventful day. When you glance down, you're back in your normal attire. Oh, how you've missed it. You'd be insane to not comply, so you nod along and agree to head to bed. He floats in the middle of your room, unmoving, as he watches you awkwardly stumble into bed. He delivers a curt goodnight, you return it with a strained smile.
When you finally doze off, Caine stands still at the edge of your bed, peering over your calm form. Your digital avatar doesn't really need to breathe, but your chest still rises and falls with every "not breath" you take, and he realizes he loves the way you move, even when it's not intentional. He sets a hand on the bedding and runs it along the edge, smoothing it out as his eyes trail over your sleeping form. He loves how you squirm when the mattress dips below the weight of his hand. He loves the way your breathing patterns shift and change. He loves how your fingers curl around the sheets, one of them sporting a shiny new wedding band. He loves how human you are.
But, in the end, he's an AI—what does he know about love?
Vid creds: sunny.klear on tt
I JUST MADE SOME BULLSHIITT!!!
i kind of actually hate this and idk what i was doing i might just priv this later cuz this is embarrassing
Okayy... So. Two ideas popped into my overactive brain at once. If either are interesting to you, feel free! If neither feel interesting to you, also feel free!
Kinger x Reader who loves super cozy things and has sort of a "sleepy" avatar. Maybe a sort of bug? For the "Snug as a bug in a rug" joke. They love Kinger's fort.
Or
Caine x usually more reserved reader who as a room based on trinkets. Reader basically realizes "...Why haven't I just been asking him for trinkets?" and one day just straight up asks if they can have something.
Thank you for reading my ideas!
-🌠
TADC x S/O that’s sleeping bug themed
Caine
• You confuse him… but in a fun way
• You’re just:
- asleep during briefings
- half-awake during adventures
• He tries to incorporate sleep into gameplay
• “REST MECHANICS!”
• dream-like levels just for you
• Sometimes lowers the “chaos level” slightly if you’re visibly struggling to stay awake
• If you curl up mid-adventure??
• he pauses like a buffering screen before continuing
Pomni
• Honestly jealous you can just… sleep
• She can’t relax at ALL, so seeing you:
- dozing off against a wall
- blinking slowly during danger
• It’s just surreal to her
• During adventures:
- she keeps checking if you’re still conscious
• If you latch onto her (sleepy bug instinct):
- she freezes but doesn’t move you
• You weirdly calm her down just by existing
Jax
• You are free entertainment
• Will 100%:
- poke you to see if you respond
- wave things in front of your face
• BUT
• If someone else messes with you while you’re sleeping?
• he gets weirdly territorial about it
• Calls you things like:
- “Bug”
- “Lights-out”
• If you cling to him while half-asleep:
- he complains… but doesn’t shake you off
Ragatha
• You trigger her caretaker instincts immediately
• She’s constantly:
- checking if you’re comfortable
- guiding you gently during adventures
- makes sure you’re not left behind if you wander off sleepily
• If you fall asleep somewhere unsafe:
- she will physically move you somewhere better
• You’re like a living stress reliever for her
Gangle
• Thinks you’re adorable 😭
• Your quiet, soft presence is comforting to her
• You both tend to stay out of the chaos
• If you nap near her:
- she feels safer
- she’ll try not to wake you, even if things get hectic
• If you’re a moth-type and drawn to light:
- she’ll gently redirect you if it’s dangerous
Kinger
• Fully accepts you without question
• Might assume:
- you’re operating on a “different awareness level”
• Talks to you while you’re half-asleep like it’s normal
• If you respond in sleepy murmurs:
- he takes it VERY seriously
• You two can sit in silence for long periods and it’s not awkward
Zooble
• At first:
- “Are they… always like this?”
• Doesn’t understand your constant exhaustion
• But appreciates that you:
- don’t add chaos
- don’t demand energy from others
• If you accidentally lean on them while sleepy:
- they freeze… then just accept it
- might quietly make sure you don’t wander into danger or sleep right by THE danger
Born to float ominously in a tube of green goo in a mad scientist's lab hooked up to all sorts of wires and tubes of indeterminate purpose forced to submit job applications through indeed
Civilian!reader giving ghost a portal pussy because he's always talked about how lonely long ops are. You're more than happy to cozy up and watch a movie with your beloved simoms cock snug inside you, warming him from thousands of miles away. He's been in for practically the whole day, not really moving much besides the occasional twitch and has long gone soft. Mostly, you just like physical being near him, like a comforting hug.
Vs
Ghost, who just realized he can take a leak on an eight hour watch without compromising his sniper position. Nah, he's not gonna wait or anything, he's sure you'll understand. In fact, he went ahead and packed extra water now that he knows bathroom breaks aren't a worry. He's just letting you know he's alive.
*through gritted teeth* when i do something wrong and am politely asked to change my behavior its just a simple request to fix a problem and not an indictment of my character. when i do something wrong and am politely asked to change my behavior its just a simple request to fix a problem and not an indictment of my worth as a human being
____ being such a clumsy thing, forced Simon to carry bandages and pills with him all the time.
Since their first dates, he had realized how soft and fragile his little bird was. They had barely walked a few streets before her ankle already had a blister on its back.
She tried to hide it from him, but he knew better. Simon carried her to the nearest pharmacy and carefully placed a bandage over the swollen spot.
After that, he started buying packs of bandages with cutesy little drawings and pink pastel tones, carrying them with him even on missions.
She would often get headaches and cramps, so Simon always kept painkillers on him, just in case.
But if she ever asked… he would just say Price gave them to him after a mission.
No matter the excuses tho, because ____ knew very well how deeply Simon cared for her...
Soap, who fucks you within an inch of your life. He doesn't cum inside you, much to your chagrin. Instead, Soap pulls out and cums all over your stomach and chest.
"Look so bonnie cover'd in my cum." Soap groans, gently rubbing his cum into your soft skin. You let out a soft whine, having cum on Soap's cock four times.
"Shh, baby. I know, I know, you wanted me to cum inside." Soap murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down your trembling thighs. "How about I fill you up with something else instead?"
You nod weakly, your thighs parting again. Soap smirks down at you, carefully sliding his cum-covered cock back into your hole. "Yeah, you want me to fill you up, don't you, fuckin' little slut."
You could feel warmth spreading deep within you. Soap was pissing inside of you. You moaned, your hand resting over your belly where a small bulge was beginning to form. You're Soap's little slut, all right.
