skyla

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Overclocked

Rex Salazar x EVO!Reader | Smut | 400+ Words

The first thing you notice is the heat.

Rex’s body is burning—skin feverish, muscles tensed, sweat beading down his forehead. His nanites are overcharged, pulsing under his skin, leaving him in a constant, unbearable state of arousal. He’s been like this for days, and nothing—not even his own hand—has been able to take the edge off.

So Providence sent you.

"F-Fuck, Y/N—" His voice is strained, a broken groan falling from his lips as he thrusts up into you, burying himself deep in your soaked, trembling heat.

Your fingers claw at his shoulders, your breath coming in soft, shuddering gasps. You’re an EVO too, one of the few who could handle his strength, his speed—his impossible stamina. But even you weren’t prepared for this. For him.

His cock—thick, burning hot, and throbbing with pent-up desperation—stretches you open, splitting you apart with every frantic snap of his hips. He’s been holding back, but now that he’s inside you?

He’s losing it.

"Shit—shit, you feel—so fucking—good—" He groans against your neck, teeth grazing your skin before he bites down, not enough to hurt, but just enough to make you cry out.

Your walls clench around him, pulsing and squeezing, and he whimpers—actually fucking whimpers—like he’s struggling to hold himself together. His nanites surge in response, glowing faintly beneath his skin, making his body tremble with the need to ruin you.

You weren’t supposed to be this shy about it—you knew what you were here for. But the way he watches you, how he groans every time you gasp, how he keeps grabbing at your waist to pull you back down onto his cock, fucking you like he’s the one losing control—

It’s too much.

"Rex—ah—t-too much—" you whimper, legs trembling as your fingers dig into his arms, nails scraping over his sweaty, overheated skin.

But Rex isn’t listening.

"Too much?" he pants, a teasing smirk curling at his lips—though it’s ruined by the needy desperation in his voice. "Nah, nah, princess, we’re just getting started."

And then he snaps his hips up, slamming so deep inside you that your moan breaks into a choked, gasping cry. His nanites pulse, electricity sparking across his skin, sending sharp pleasure through your entire body.

Your head tilts back, your body arching against him, and he watches, completely transfixed—like he can’t believe he’s actually seeing you like this, taking him like this.

"Shit… you’re so fucking perfect," he groans, hands gripping your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper, making you feel every inch of him.

You can’t answer. You can barely breathe.

All you can do is take it.

And with the way his body is shaking beneath you—how his grip on your thighs tightens, his thrusts turning even rougher—you know he’s close.

But the worst part?

So are you.

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Puppy Love

Zak Saturday x Female!Reader | Fluff | 900+ Words

Zak had faced cryptids, villains, and near-death experiences without so much as a flinch—but nothing had ever prepared him for you.

You weren’t just a friend. No, that would be too simple. You were his best friend, his partner in adventure, the one person outside his family who got him. And, unfortunately for him, you were also the one person who could turn him into a complete, blushing mess with just a smile.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

"Zak, come on!" you called, reaching for his hand as you ran ahead. "You’re so slow!"

Zak blinked, torn from his daze just in time to see you turn back and grab his wrist, pulling him forward. Your fingers wrapped around his, warm and soft, and oh god he was going to die.

"I-I’m not slow!" he protested, voice cracking slightly. "I was just—uh—analyzing the terrain!"

You snorted. "Sure, nerd. Come on, I wanna show you something!"

His stomach flipped as you dragged him forward, deeper into the dense forest that surrounded the Saturday family’s latest cryptid investigation site. The evening air was cool, carrying the distant sounds of chirping insects and rustling leaves. Zak should’ve been focused—there was always a chance of running into something dangerous—but all he could think about was you.

The way your hair bounced when you ran. The way your laugh sounded in the open air. The way you still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Get a grip, Zak! his brain screamed at him. You’ve faced giant monsters. Why is holding hands so much scarier?!

You finally slowed as you reached a small clearing, bathed in golden light from the setting sun. In the center stood a cryptid pup—small, furry, and looking up at the two of you with wide, curious eyes.

Your grin widened. "See? I found him earlier while you were busy nerding out with your parents. Isn’t he cute?"

Zak swallowed, forcing his brain to reboot before he embarrassed himself again. "Y-Yeah! Super cute." He cleared his throat. "Uh, what is it?"

"Some kind of young Canis Cryptid," you said, crouching beside it. "He’s not dangerous. Just lost. I thought maybe we could help him find his way home?"

Zak knew he should be looking at the cryptid. Studying it. Taking notes. But no, his eyes were locked on you.

The way you gently scratched the little creature’s ears, smiling down at it like it was the most important thing in the world. The way the golden sunlight hit your face, making your eyes shine.

The way his heart was slamming against his ribs like it was trying to escape.

"Zak?"

Crap. You were looking at him now, head tilted in curiosity. He must’ve zoned out again.

"I—uh—yeah!" he blurted, too loudly. "Let’s get him home! Teamwork! Cryptid-saving! Totally on it!"

You giggled, and Zak felt like he’d ascended to another plane of existence.

"Alright, dork. Let’s go."

The two of you spent the next hour trekking through the forest, following tracks, checking trees, and occasionally stopping to let the tiny cryptid sniff around. It was… nice. Peaceful. Just the two of you, no stress, no missions, no world-ending threats.

At some point, the cryptid pup had curled up in your arms, completely content with being carried. Zak watched in quiet awe, stomach twisting into hopelessly tight knots.

"I am so screwed."

"Hey, Zak?"

He snapped to attention. "Y-Yeah?"

You slowed your pace, shifting the little cryptid in your arms. "Do you ever think about the future?"

Zak blinked. "Uh. Like, in general? Or in the big ‘what am I doing with my life’ kind of way?"

You laughed. "I dunno. Just… what comes next. We travel so much, chasing cryptids and saving the world and stuff, but do you ever think about what you want? Y'know, outside of all this?"

Zak hesitated. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it, but… well, his whole life had been cryptids and danger and adventure. It was hard to imagine anything different.

But then his eyes drifted back to you.

And suddenly, it wasn’t so hard at all.

"I…" He swallowed, looking away. "I think… as long as I have the right people with me, I’ll figure it out."

Silence.

Crap. That was so cheesy. He was going to DIE.

Then you smiled. Soft. Warm. Perfect.

"Yeah," you murmured. "I like that."

And just like that, Zak Saturday officially became the biggest lovesick idiot on the planet.

By the time the two of you found the cryptid pup’s home, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and blues. The little guy yipped happily as he scurried off to join his family, disappearing into the underbrush.

You sighed in contentment, stretching your arms. "Mission accomplished. Good job, partner."

Zak scratched the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah. We make a pretty good team."

You turned to him then, closer than he expected, and his breath hitched. The soft glow of the fireflies around you reflected in your eyes, and for a second, he thought—

Is this it? Is she gonna—?

But instead of a kiss, you just grinned and—

Flick!

Zak yelped as you booped his nose, giggling as he stumbled back.

"Tag, you’re it!" you declared before taking off.

Zak stood there, dumbfounded, before his brain finally rebooted.

"Oh, it’s on."

With a burst of energy, he chased after you, laughter echoing through the night.

He didn’t know what the future held. But right now? With you?

Yeah. He had a feeling everything would turn out just fine.

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Held in His Hands

Ben/Four Arms x Female!Reader | Smut | 600+ Words

You barely have time to gasp before you’re lifted off the ground, your legs dangling as Ben—no, Four Arms—holds you up like you weigh nothing. His grip is firm, his massive hands spreading across your back, thighs, everywhere.

"You’re so small…" His deep, gravelly voice rumbles against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His size alone has you trembling. Every inch of him is huge, and as he presses his body against yours, you feel exactly what that means.

Two. There are two.

Tetramand males aren’t built like humans. Between his thick thighs, you feel the weight of both of his heavy, throbbing cocks pressing against your drenched core, struggling to find enough space. They twitch against you, huge, burning hot, and barely able to fit.

"You sure about this, baby?" His voice is strained, his usual cocky attitude barely hiding how hungry he is for you. He could take you right now, with no warning, but he’s holding back. For you.

You whimper against him, clutching at his thick, powerful shoulders. "I want it… I want you, Ben… all of you."

His growl is primal, his grip tightening just before he pushes inside.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he stretches you to the limit, filling you so completely that you feel split in two. The first one slides in slowly, inch by inch, forcing your body to adjust to his sheer size. The second presses against your untouched hole, the thick, throbbing head demanding more space than you ever thought possible.

"You feel so tight, baby…" His breath is ragged as he watches your body struggle to take him. "But you can handle it. I know you can."

He holds you suspended in his arms, helpless, your body stretched beyond its limits as he claims you completely. The pleasure is overwhelming—too much, too deep, too perfect. You can’t escape his grip, and you don’t want to.

Then he moves.

"Fuck—look at you. Taking all of me like a good girl."

He thrusts up into you, slow but devastatingly deep, pulling out just enough to slam back inside, making you see stars. Every thrust makes you cry out, your body twitching in helpless pleasure as he fills you in ways you never imagined.

"You feel so fucking good wrapped around me… you were made for this, weren’t you?"

His lower hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread wide open, while his upper arms cradle you possessively, holding you exactly where he wants you. You have nowhere to go—no choice but to take every inch of him.

And God, you love it.

His pace picks up, his grip tightening as he loses himself in you. His four arms keep you completely at his mercy, his cocks pounding into you mercilessly yet with just enough restraint to keep from breaking you.

"You’re shaking, baby… can’t handle it?" His voice is teasing, but the way his muscles tense tells you he’s close.

You’re already gone, pleasure ripping through you in wave after wave as your walls clamp down around him. Your whimpers turn into desperate moans, your nails digging into his skin as your body surrenders to the overwhelming sensation of being completely, utterly ruined.

His growl turns into a snarl as he buries himself to the hilt, his entire body shuddering as he pours himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation of both his cocks twitching, pulsing, claiming you inside and out sends you spiraling into bliss.

And still, he holds you tight, keeping you close, cradling you like you’re his most precious thing.

"Told you I’d wreck you, baby." His voice is rough, but full of love. He kisses the top of your head, gentle despite his overwhelming strength. "Hope you don’t have any plans tomorrow… ‘cause you’re not walking after this."

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Burger Date

Harold Cooplowski (Coop) x Female!Reader | Fluff | 900+ Words

The smell of grease, grilled beef, and crispy fries filled the air the moment you stepped into Fat Joey’s Big Belly Burger Shack. It was exactly the kind of place you’d expect Coop to love—a huge, neon-lit diner with a menu that bragged “Home of the Monstrosity—12 patties of pure beef heaven” in bold, grease-stained letters.

Coop, of course, was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Aw man, you are gonna love this place." His big hand landed on your back, guiding you toward the counter with all the giddiness of a kid in an arcade. "I’m tellin’ ya, nobody makes a better double bacon triple cheese than Big Joey."

You chuckled, glancing up at him. “You sure you don’t own stock in this place?”

"Pfft, I wish." Coop smirked, already scanning the massive overhead menu. "I’d get free burgers for life."

You could already hear his stomach growling.

Despite his usual slacker energy, when it came to food, Coop took things seriously. He stepped up to the counter, one thick forearm resting against it as he greeted the cashier—a lanky teenager who barely looked awake.

"Yo, lemme get a Quadruple Beastmaster, extra bacon, extra cheese, triple-stacked fries, two chili dogs, and uh—" He turned to you. "What’re you gettin’?"

You blinked. "How do you have room for all that?"

"What can I say?" He patted his belly proudly. "This temple needs maintenance."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. Classic Coop. You ordered a regular burger and fries (y’know, like a normal person), and the two of you grabbed a booth near the window. The faint hum of neon signs bathed the table in warm reds and yellows, and outside, Megas was parked in the lot, way too big for any actual parking space but looking cool as ever.

Coop immediately sprawled out, one big arm over the back of the booth, his fingers idly tapping against your shoulder as he leaned back.

"Man, I’ve been craving this all day."

"Do you ever not crave burgers?" you teased, resting your chin on your hand.

He grinned, looking at you for a second too long before shrugging. "I mean, I could be craving somethin’ else."

Your face heated at the way he smirked—completely unintentional flirtation, or was he actually doing that on purpose?

Before you could respond, the food arrived.

And holy hell.

Your burger looked normal, but Coop’s plate? It was a literal mountain.

"You’re actually gonna eat all that?" you asked, half in awe, half in terror.

"Babe, please," Coop said, already unwrapping his burger. "Have a little faith."

And with that, he went to town.

You’d seen Coop eat before, but this was an art form.

He picked up the Quadruple Beastmaster—a burger so massive it should’ve come with a legal waiver—and took the biggest bite imaginable, eyes rolling back like he’d just found inner peace.

"Mmmmph. Ohhh yeah. That’s the stuff."

You snorted. "Coop, you sound like you just had a religious experience."

"That’s ‘cause I did." He pointed at the burger like it was a divine gift from above. "Look at this thing. It’s perfect. The meat-to-bun ratio? Immaculate. The cheese? Melty as hell. The bacon?" He took another bite and groaned. "Crispy perfection."

"I feel like I should be jealous of that burger right now."

Without missing a beat, Coop grabbed a fry, dipped it in cheese, and held it up to your lips.

"Here. Try it."

You blinked. Oh. Okay.

You leaned in, taking the fry between your lips, the cheese still warm. It was good—really good—but the real distraction was the way Coop watched you. His usual goofiness softened just slightly, his gaze lingering like he was actually enjoying feeding you.

…Was he doing that on purpose?

You swallowed, your cheeks warmer than they should’ve been. "Okay, yeah. That’s good."

"Told ya," he said, popping another fry into his mouth like nothing had happened.

Your stomach did stupid little flips.

Half an hour later, Coop had somehow eaten every last bite of his food. He leaned back with a satisfied sigh, stretching his arms—one of which ended up behind your shoulders again.

"Man, I should get a nap after this."

"You just woke up like four hours ago."

"Yeah, and?"

You rolled your eyes, but then his hand absentmindedly started rubbing small circles against your shoulder.

Your brain shut down.

He wasn’t even looking at you—just staring out the window at Megas like casually touching you was totally normal.

It was NOT normal.

Your stomach flipped. He was warm, solid, comfortable—and if you leaned just a little closer, you could rest your head against his chest and pretend like this was a real date.

…Wait. Was this a real date?

You swallowed. "Hey, Coop?"

"Mm?"

"…Is this a date?"

Silence.

Coop blinked, turning to look at you, his hand freezing mid-rub.

His face turned red.

"Uhh—" He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean. You wanted burgers. I wanted burgers. We’re eating burgers."

"That didn’t answer my question."

Coop hesitated. Then, with a grin that was both cocky and a little shy, he shrugged.

"I dunno. You want it to be?"

Your heart skipped an entire beat.

This idiot.

You grabbed a fry, popped it into your mouth, and smirked. "Guess that depends on whether or not you buy me dessert."

Coop’s grin widened. "Babe, say no more."

And just like that, he was waving the cashier over for a milkshake—

—Which he absolutely let you have the first sip of.

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Blossom

Samurai Jack x Oiran!Reader | Smut | 600+ Words

The flickering candlelight cast golden glows along the silk-draped walls, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and lotus. You sat delicately on the edge of the futon, fingers nervously gripping the fabric of your lavish kimono. The silk was embroidered with golden peonies, a sign of your esteemed status—yet beneath it all, you were nothing more than a beginner, untouched and uncertain.

And he was staring at you.

Jack knelt before you, his dark eyes soft yet intense, tracing the curves of your form with something like reverence. His presence alone sent warmth up your neck. He was unlike the others—the men who had eyed you as though you were a possession, an object of desire. But Jack? His gaze held something deeper.

"You are… breathtaking," he murmured, voice like velvet. His accent curled around the syllables, and you swore you felt it like a caress.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you let him reach for you, his calloused fingers ghosting over the delicate obi at your waist. He hesitated.

"May I?"

The sheer respect in his tone made your chest tighten. You nodded, and with careful precision, he undid the silk—letting the layers slip from your shoulders, pooling around you like a cascade of petals.

Jack inhaled sharply.

His fingers twitched, his jaw clenched—he was trying so desperately to maintain his restraint, but you saw the way his gaze darkened, the way his chest rose and fell just a little deeper.

"You are…"* He exhaled, kneeling closer, his large, warm hands cupping your bare shoulders. "A goddess."

Your heart stammered as he guided you down, his lips finding the trembling pulse at your throat. Each kiss was reverent, slow, as though he were memorizing your skin. His hands explored—fingertips gliding down the soft swell of your breasts, tracing your curves with patient, deliberate worship.

"Do not be afraid," he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss over your racing heart. "I will be gentle."

And he was.

As he shed his own garments, the full breadth of his desire was revealed—thick, heavy, flushed a deep red with need. The sheer size of him made your breath hitch, your thighs pressing together in a mix of nervousness and arousal. Jack noticed, his gaze softening as he brushed a hand along your cheek.

"I will not hurt you," he promised.

Yet, as he settled between your thighs, guiding the head of his cock against your untouched entrance, you felt just how much he stretched you, filled you—inch by slow, torturous inch. Your body trembled beneath him, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he eased himself inside.

Jack groaned, his breath ragged, his hands clenching onto the sheets as he forced himself to move slowly. He was thick, the velvety heat of him pressing into places you never knew could feel this good.

"You are… so warm," he gasped, forehead resting against yours. "So perfect."

You gasped as he sank deeper, his body trembling with restraint. Your walls fluttered around him, unused to such an intrusion, but Jack kissed away every whimper, murmuring praises against your lips.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he rocked into you, each movement measured, controlled, designed to bring pleasure rather than pain. He held you so carefully, his strong arms encasing you like a shield, as though he were protecting something infinitely precious.

And when your breath hitched, your body tightening, he kissed you fully—devouring your moans, worshiping every shiver as you came undone beneath him.

He followed soon after, groaning your name into your throat, his hold tightening as though he never wanted to let you go.

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Warming Up

Professor Utonium x Fem!Reader | Fluff | 800+ Words

The rain had started in the late afternoon, a slow, steady drizzle that misted over the streets of Townsville, darkening the sidewalks and turning the sky into a sheet of soft gray. But by evening, it had become a full storm—sheets of water pounding against the windows, lightning flickering across the sky, and distant rumbles of thunder rolling through the air like the deep growl of some unseen creature.

You sat curled up on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your shoulders as you stared out at the downpour, mesmerized by the way the raindrops clung to the glass before streaking down in uneven lines. The house felt warmer than usual, the air thick with the comforting scent of vanilla tea and the faint, familiar spice of Professor Utonium’s cologne.

From the kitchen, you heard the soft clinking of ceramic as he finished preparing tea, his usual meticulous self even in something as simple as steeping leaves in hot water. A few moments later, he stepped into the living room, two steaming mugs in hand, his expression as calm and steady as always—though there was a flicker of concern in his warm brown eyes as he glanced at you.

"Here you go, sweetheart." He handed you a mug before sitting beside you, the couch dipping under his weight.

"Thank you," you murmured, wrapping your fingers around the ceramic for warmth.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room, the rhythmic drumming of rain and the occasional soft crackle from the fireplace. You took a small sip of your tea, letting the warmth spread through your chest, but it did little to chase away the slight chill clinging to your skin.

He must have noticed because before you could even shift closer, he moved first.

"Come here," Professor Utonium said softly, opening his arm to you.

You didn’t hesitate. The moment you slid into his embrace, he pulled the blanket over both of you, his body heat instantly warming you. His arm curled around your waist, his other hand resting gently on your back, fingers tracing absentminded circles through the fabric of your sweater.

You sighed, pressing your cheek against his chest. Warm. Solid. Safe.

"Better?" he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against your ear.

"Much," you admitted, smiling as you nuzzled against him.

Outside, the storm continued its relentless assault, but within the cozy glow of the living room, it was as if you were in your own little world. The flickering light of the fire cast soft shadows along the walls, the scent of tea and old books mixing with the faint traces of aftershave on his skin.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply sat there, wrapped in each other, the silence comfortable and heavy with warmth. Every now and then, his fingers would skim up and down your spine, or his lips would brush lightly against your forehead, little gestures of affection that sent waves of warmth through you.

"I love nights like this," you murmured.

"Mm," he hummed in agreement, his voice tinged with sleepiness. "It’s nice to slow down sometimes."

You knew what he meant. He spent so much time in the lab, buried in research, working tirelessly between his scientific pursuits and raising three energetic little superheroes. It was rare for him to just stop—to exist in the moment, without the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

"You work too much," you said, tilting your head up to look at him.

He chuckled, the sound deep and smooth. "I’ve been told that once or twice."

"Mhm. And I bet you never listen."

"Not usually, no."

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him with your elbow. "Well, you’re listening now."

"I suppose I am." His lips curved into a soft smile, but then, more seriously, he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing his knuckles against your cheek. "I don’t always take the time to just… relax. But you make it easy."

Your breath caught for a moment, heart squeezing at the tenderness in his gaze.

"Good," you whispered. "Because you deserve this, too. Not just the girls, not just your work—you."

His grip on you tightened slightly, as if your words had struck something deep inside him. And then, slowly, he leaned down, pressing the softest, sweetest kiss against your lips—barely more than a brush, but enough. Enough to make your fingers tighten around his shirt, enough to send warmth unfurling through your chest like ripples in still water.

"Thank you," he murmured against your lips.

"For what?"

"For reminding me to slow down. And for being here."

You smiled, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling back against him. "Always."

The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, it no longer felt so cold.

[smashing-peaches]

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Frozen Heat

Ben/Big Chill x Female!Reader | Fluffy Smut | 567 Words

The first thing you notice is the cold.

Ben—no, Big Chill—looms over you, his glowing eyes burning through the dimly lit space. The massive, ghostly wings surrounding you create an intimate cocoon, shielding you from the outside world. Their edges brush against your skin, sending delicate chills down your spine.

"Are you cold?" His voice is a whisper, deep yet airy, like wind through the trees.

You nod, but it’s not discomfort you feel. It’s a thrill, a sharp contrast between the freezing touch of his body and the molten heat pooling low in your stomach. Your bare skin prickles with goosebumps, but it’s not just from the chill—it’s him.

"I’ll warm you up soon… but for now, I want to feel you shiver for me."

His claws trail down your sides, cold enough to make you gasp. Your breath catches as his fingers ghost over your thighs, teasing, barely touching, but making every nerve stand on edge. You arch under him, aching for more, but he keeps his pace slow, controlled—just the way he wants it.

When he finally presses against you, sliding in inch by inch, the contrast of temperatures overwhelms you. His cock is thick, smooth, so cold at first, but the friction between your bodies creates an unbearable, perfect warmth. You whimper, your body instinctively clenching around him, trying to absorb the icy sensation into your own heat.

Big Chill exhales sharply, a faint mist escaping his lips. His wings tighten their hold, wrapping you in their embrace as he sinks deeper.

"That’s it… let me feel how warm you are."

His thrusts are agonizingly slow, every movement drawn out so you feel the way he stretches you, the way your slick heat fights against his numbing cold. The contrast sends a shudder rippling through you, and he feels it. He loves it.

"You’re trembling, sweetheart… does it feel good?"

You can’t even answer—your moans come in gasping breaths, too caught up in the sensation of him filling you so perfectly. Your hands grip his shoulders, fingers curling against the smooth, icy texture of his alien body. His chest presses against yours, not warm, but solid, sending another deep shiver through you as he moves.

The rhythm builds, slow at first, but then deeper, stronger. His breath is icy against your neck as he leans in, nipping at your skin with his teeth. Your body responds instantly—another shudder, another moan, and he drinks it in.

"I love feeling you shake like this… don’t stop."

One of his hands slips between you, fingers finding your clit, and that’s it—the cold touch, the deep thrusts, the overwhelming contrast—it’s too much. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your entire body trembling as he pushes you over the edge.

Big Chill groans, his pace faltering as he follows you into bliss. His wings tighten completely, wrapping you in their embrace as he buries himself deep, pulsing, claiming you. You feel everything—the way he holds you through the aftershocks, the cold tingling against your overheated skin, the way he whispers your name, reverent, possessive.

And when it’s over, he doesn’t move. He just stays there, still buried inside, arms and wings keeping you close. You shiver again, but this time, it’s not just from the cold.

It’s from him.

And from the way he smirks, glowing eyes locking onto yours, he knows exactly what he’s done to you.

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Training Gone Soft

Robin x Female!Reader | Fluff | 552 Words

The crack of Robin’s bo-staff hitting the mat echoed through the training room, followed by the sharp sound of your own weapon clashing against his. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and determination, and you were losing. Badly.

Robin wasn’t holding back—not that you expected him to. His movements were sharp, precise, his stance perfect. He dodged every one of your attacks with ease, barely breaking a sweat while you were already panting.

“You’re leaving your right side open,” he said, effortlessly blocking another strike. “Again.”

You groaned, stepping back to shake out your aching arms. “I know that. But maybe if someone didn’t move like a ninja on steroids, I’d actually stand a chance.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Robin’s lips, but he didn’t break his stance. “You asked me to train you, remember?”

Yeah, you remembered. It just wasn’t going the way you hoped.

You took a deep breath, readjusting your grip on the staff. Focus. You were determined to land at least one hit on him. Just one.

You lunged.

Robin sidestepped smoothly, but this time you were ready. Spinning on your heel, you swung low, aiming for his legs. He jumped—of course he did, the acrobat showoff—but as he landed, you pushed forward, closing the distance between you two.

For a moment, you were so close you could see the flicker of surprise behind his mask. His breath hitched, just barely.

And that’s when you saw your opening.

Instead of going for another strike, you dropped your staff and tackled him.

Robin’s balance faltered for one second—just long enough for you to hook your leg behind his, sending both of you toppling to the mat. You landed on top of him, hands pressing against his chest as his bo-staff clattered beside him.

Silence.

Your heart was pounding, more from the sudden proximity than the effort of taking him down. Robin blinked up at you, his expression unreadable, lips parted slightly in shock.

“Pinned you,” you said, breathless, a teasing grin creeping onto your lips.

Robin exhaled sharply, a mix between a chuckle and a sigh. “That wasn’t exactly a legal takedown.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying I cheated?”

“I’m saying,” he murmured, voice lower now, “that you’re distracting.”

Oh.

Heat crept up your neck as you realized how close you actually were—his body firm beneath yours, his gloved hands resting lightly against your waist, like he wasn’t sure whether to push you off or pull you closer.

The tension between you crackled like static, unspoken words hanging in the air. His masked eyes flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second, barely noticeable—but you noticed.

A smug smile curled at your lips. “Maybe you should work on your focus, Boy Wonder.”

Robin let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You leaned in, just enough to make his breath hitch again. “And yet, I won.”

Robin exhaled. Then, in one swift motion, he flipped you over, reversing your positions in a heartbeat. Now he was the one hovering over you, smirking.

“You were saying?”

Your eyes widened. “Okay, that was cheating.”

His grin widened, and for the first time in the entire training session, Robin finally relaxed.

Maybe losing wasn’t so bad after all.

[callmelyriic]

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Late-Night Drives & Mixtapes

Rodrick Heffley x Fem!Reader | Fluff | 1.2K words

The low rumble of Rodrick’s van was the only sound in the stillness of the night. The neon glow from passing streetlights cast fleeting shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. You sat beside him, your legs tucked under you, basking in the comfortable silence that only came with being around him.

It was past midnight, and the world felt softer, slower, as Rodrick drove with no real destination in mind. The cool night air seeped through the cracked windows, carrying the scent of asphalt and pine. Your town always felt different at night—quieter, almost like it belonged to just the two of you.

Rodrick exhaled through his nose, tapping the dashboard with his palm. “Alright, Y/N, serious question,” he said, his voice scratchy from a mix of exhaustion and whatever energy drink he’d chugged before picking you up. “If you had to listen to only one band for the rest of your life—like, no skips, no variety—who would it be?”

You hummed, pretending to give it deep thought. “Löded Diper, obviously.”

Rodrick groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That doesn’t count. You’re just saying that ‘cause you feel bad for us.”

“Maybe.” You grinned. “But also, I like your music, okay? So sue me.”

He side-eyed you, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he flicked on the stereo, and the van filled with the opening chords of a song you didn’t recognize.

“What’s this?” you asked, shifting in your seat as the steady drumbeat kicked in.

Rodrick shrugged, gripping the wheel tighter. “Just a mix. You’ll like it.”

You didn’t miss the way his knuckles flexed, how his knee bounced as if he was waiting for you to say something. His usual cocky attitude was nowhere to be found—just nerves, poorly hidden under the dim glow of the dashboard.

You leaned closer, letting the song wash over you. It was a mix of classic rock and some heavier alternative stuff, but then, a song that was unmistakably different played through the speakers—something softer, melodic, almost sweet.

You turned your head slowly. “Rodrick… did you make this?”

He snorted. “What? A playlist? Yeah, Y/N, that’s not exactly rocket science.”

“No, I mean… for me?”

Rodrick drummed his fingers against the wheel, gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

A warmth spread through your chest, something soft and fluttery. You had known Rodrick for years, and despite his general ‘I don’t care’ attitude, there were always these moments where he’d surprise you—where he’d let that tough exterior slip just enough to show the messy, endearing boy underneath.

“Rodrick,” you pressed, smiling despite yourself. “Did you just make me a mixtape?”

“I didn’t put it on a tape, did I?” He groaned, but you saw the tips of his ears go pink. “Just—ugh, don’t make it weird, okay?”

You let out a small laugh, watching as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was so bad at this—at being soft, at admitting when he did something thoughtful—but that just made it all the more endearing.

“I love it,” you said simply, because you did.

Rodrick peeked at you, and the tension in his shoulders eased, just a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of the engine and the music filling the space between you. The city lights faded as Rodrick turned onto an empty backroad, the kind lined with trees where the only illumination came from the headlights slicing through the dark.

He ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “Alright, your turn. One band for life—not Löded Diper.”

You tapped your chin dramatically. “Hmm… Nickelback.”

Rodrick gasped, swerving the van slightly. “Take that back.”

You cackled, throwing your head back. “Make me.”

Rodrick shot you a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re lucky I don’t pull over and leave your ass on the side of the road.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you challenged, poking his arm. “You’d miss me too much.”

Rodrick rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” But his grip on the wheel tightened, and there was something softer in the way he glanced at you, in the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite figure out how.

The mixtape—his mixtape for you—kept playing, the tracks bleeding into each other, each one carefully picked by him. It was so painfully obvious now, what this was. He hadn’t just thrown together a bunch of songs he liked.

He’d picked songs with meaning. Songs that told you things he didn’t know how to say.

The van rolled to a stop at the edge of a hill that overlooked the town. It was a spot the two of you had come to before, but tonight, it felt different. The lights below twinkled like tiny stars, and for the first time in a while, everything felt… easy.

Rodrick leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms before resting one over the back of yours. He was pretending to be casual about it, but you could feel the warmth of his fingers, just barely brushing your shoulder.

“You wanna know something?” he asked suddenly.

You turned to him, resting your cheek against the seat. “Always.”

Rodrick licked his lips, drumming his fingers absentmindedly against the dashboard. “I, uh… I don’t really do this. Like, the whole, y’know…” He waved a hand vaguely. “Feelings thing.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” you teased.

He shot you a look. “I’m being serious.”

“I know,” you said, a little softer this time. “Go on.”

Rodrick exhaled sharply, like he was bracing himself. “I just—look, I like having you around, okay?” He squirmed, like the words physically pained him. “And not in, like, a ‘you’re cool to hang out with’ way, but in a ‘shit, I think about you all the time and it’s annoying’ way.”

Your heart stuttered, heat creeping up your neck. “Rodrick—”

“Wait, I’m not done,” he interrupted, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before forcing himself to look at you. “I made the dumb mixtape because every time I hear a song I like, I wonder if you’d like it. And I wanna know what you think about it, and—ugh, this is so lame.”

You laughed, but it wasn’t mocking—it was light, breathless, because God, he was a mess, and it was adorable.

“Rodrick.” You reached over, slipping your fingers through his. His breath hitched, and he tensed, but he didn’t pull away.

“…Yeah?”

You squeezed his hand. “I think about you all the time, too.”

Rodrick blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

You grinned. “Yeah, idiot.”

For a second, all he did was stare at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, with a sudden burst of confidence, he leaned in.

The kiss was quick—just a hesitant brush of lips, warm and a little clumsy—but it made your stomach flip all the same. When he pulled back, his cheeks were red, and he was trying so hard to act cool about it.

“Well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t terrible.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him back in.

This time, he kissed you properly.

And if the mixtape continued playing softly in the background, with lyrics about love and late-night drives and stupid teenage feelings—well, neither of you were complaining.