saekochani

[followyourfleart]

☤ Jealousy is a disease... right?

tw: mentions/themes of grief of spouse

You had it all.

He did not.

Well, that sounded morbid. Jack wasn't struggling by any means. Really, it was a comment on the similarities and differences between you both.

The same person, just different sides of the coin. Same value, different faces.

You were a fellow attending—in fact, you had joined the Pitt the same time as him—and worked on the night shift. You had great standing with a lot of people, people Jack also had great standing with: Gloria, Robby, Shen, Dana, Lena, Al-Hashimi, just to name a few. Just as Jack would consider them friends, you did too.

You also took risks, just like him. There were many times when you and he would oversee the same case, quietly arguing over which quick and new procedure had just been tested in another country, while the patient and the med student awkwardly looked at each other.

You were outgoing, just like him. Talking came naturally to you. No wonder all the residents flocked to you both and not Robby, something he had found annoying for quite some time.

Yet, you were both so different, and that—was the hardest part to come to terms with.

You had colorful scrubs. Yes, Jack couldn't stand the fact that your scrubs were the classic black with unicorns on them. Or sometimes blue cartoon whales. Hell, you even had color-coordinated green sneakers with the green four-leaf clovers dotting your black for St. Patrick's Day.

Jack kept to his black. The only variation he had was if the shirt underneath was long or short-sleeved, and that completely depended on Pittsburgh's weather. He hadn't thought about

He got jealous when kids with broken arms and bloody noses would gasp and touch your scrubs while you distracted them from whatever Perlah was doing. Jack never got that, the ease from kids or the attention from you.

You also made sure that you wore the most colorful clips in your hair. The plastic always gleamed and caught his eye, like a raven looking at something shiny. He wasn't the only one, though.

It had become your trademark. So much so that you had brought little colorful hair ties for everyone to wear. All color corrdinated on which color suited everyone.

You said it would, "Liven up everyone." After putting one on Dana, who huffed, but kept it on, "Why not at least pretend we're happy so the patients don't catch on."

Soon, everyone in the ED had a hair tie for themselves.

Everyone, except him.

He remembered it clear as day. He had just grabbed bagels from this new coffee place that had opened by his house. He strolled in a bit later than he normally did and was greeted by a long line of people in the ED's staff lounge.

Going inside, he spotted you at the table, multiple packets of those colorful hairties open and spread across the table. You implored everyone to take one, handing them out yourself.

Jack awkwardly stood there, grabbing one half of his bagel from the bag and putting the other one in the fridge. He watched, eyes trained on your smile and your scrubs—red dinosaurs today—not saying a word.

There were a couple of times when your eyes brushed up to meet his, but your eyebrows furrowed for half a second before dipping back to the person in front of you.

By the end of the line, you had barely any hair ties left. You had started cleaning up the packets, pulling up the plastic to throw away. And then promptly left the room without offering one.

Jack Abbot was the only one in that entire ED who didn't have a fucking hair tie on his wrist.

Even motherfucking "Park the Shark" got one. Your sunshine demeanor even extended to the grumpy attending of orthopedic surgery

What a nightmare.

So yeah, maybe being jealous of you personally putting on each hairtie and putting them on everyone's wrist wasn't healthy, but it was normal, right? He was being excluded! If he wanted to, he could make a big fuss out of it, but he was a mature, normal, emergency department attending with military background, a missing leg, and a dead wife.

Completely normal, so he would never complain about a hairtie.

His jealousy even extended to your personal life. Yes, he was so pathetic that he was thinking about you at home when you were probably miles away doing something better. How you had it all.

Jack learned about this the hard way. For once, you both were muttering something nice and meaningful to each other. You leaned over his right forearm, pointing at the iPad in both your hands.

"But I think I agree with you," You said, biting your soft bottom lip, "I think putting him on acetaminophen is way better than anything else. At least, before we find out what's wrong with him."

Jack had nodded along, pointing to the scrawl in the digital chart, "And look here; says he's got some sort of infection on the left medial porition of his thigh. Gotta be the cause of this pain."

"Maybe..." You hummed out, "But let's get labs on it, maybe try to do a—"

Out of nowhere, your name was called out. You and Jack both lifted your heads and looked around. No nurse was looking at you or any other resident, attending, or med student walking toward you.

Instead, there was a man, rushing through the ambulance bay doors, face dripping with sweat. His t-shirt was black and completely soaked through, like he had been running through sprinklers.

And in his arms... was a little girl.

Clutching onto him like her life depended on it.

Before Jack could comment, you had left him behind. Everything in your hands, your stethoscope, your pen, everything, was dropped to the floor with a clatter. If anyone wasn't looking, they were looking now as you ran to the duo, yelling and asking what was wrong, and clawing at the girl.

You screamed for a bed, hands hovering over her body as if trying to feel for the injury by your hands alone.

That was the day Jack learned you were married and had a nine-year-old daughter.

How did he not catch it? He didn't even notice you wore a small, thin gold band on your left finger. He watched you all the time, but now, was this the time he wasn't paying attention?

Jack felt utterly stupid. He felt even stupider when he would sit in his bed now, knowing he was thinking about a married woman. His late wife, on her deathbed, told him to look for love again, to live his life and not be stuck on her. But her ghost would be throttling him if she knew what depraved thoughts were rattling inside his head.

He was jealous of how much your husband calmed your worries, how you smiled small to him and hugged him tight. How your daughter clung to you the entire time after Lena told you to stay by her side. How you held her hand as—ironically—Jack was the one who told your little family she had only fractured her leg.

And worst of all, when you held your husband's hand and sighed in relief.

It made it worse when he thought about where this all had started. Simple, really. You had been lifting supplies during Pittfest. Of course, Jack could be the only man who had fallen deeply infatuated with a woman during a mass casualty event.

Simply wanting to speed things up, Jack took all of it from your hands and, with you, worked to distribute as many supplies as possible. He followed you like a puppy, while you did all the talking and handing everything off. By the time you and he had finished, gowns soaked in blood, you had taken his hand in yours and beamed up at him.

"Jack Abbot, you might be the greatest possible man in all the world right now."

Then, your fingers squeezed his, and you rushed to the nearest patient who needed you.

That was the first and last time you had smiled at him.

After that, things just soured. You had tried to be kind to him, but he couldn't take it. He wasn't used to it. He could have the best banter, the best conversations, the best jokes with everyone else, but for some reason, he faltered at you.

With everyone else, he could meet their gaze perfectly fine, even leaning in to catch it. But with you? He shifted his eyes away so that you couldn't catch how his pupils had blown out at the sight of you.

It could be because this was the first time since the death of his wife that his heart had started to race. It could be the fact that before you looked at him, he let himself come back to an empty home that was a tomb for his wife, because he couldn't move any of her stuff, even years later.

It could be that it felt like a betrayal. Not only to her, but to his own morals. He was a good man. His parents called him their "Golden Jackie," and his in-laws had given their full approval when he asked for their daughter's hand in marriage.

But what now? Now, he was a fifty-year-old man unable to talk to the woman who had been so nice, yet now couldn't bear to talk to him, all because he was inexperienced and anxious. Now, he was an old man staring daggers at your husband like he stole you from him, like he had any stake in you in the first place.

Now, he was a loser touching himself in the shower at the thought of you, seated on the marble seating and gripping the handlebars while his other fist jerked him off. Now, he was the fool who thought about you smiling and looking into his eyes, while he came in his fist with a groan, after being the hardest he had been in almost a decade.

Now, he knew he was damned for hell. Because you were married and he was not, and you were living the life he wanted.

A life he wanted with his late wife.

A life he wanted with you.

Those feelings continued into the surgery he was performing right now. A delicate one. Being him, he had decided now would be the best time to try a new technique he saw in an article in China.

Shen and Ellis surrounded him, working alongside him with short commands and indications. They worked well, like a good machine.

Except Jack's hands were the ones who were shaking. It was so noticeable when he picked up the scalpel, the light that reflected off it quivered against his scrubs. Why was he so nervous? What was shaking him up so badly?

What was wrong with him?

Was it because today was a shitty day, where the coffee shop he got those bagels from decided to not open today? Was it because today, when he walked in, Robby was going through his own shit, and Jack had to bring him back to earth? Was it because today, he treated a woman who had the same kind of cancer as his late wife, and she had four months to live?

"Hey, Shen, hey Parker. What do we have here?"

Well, they all went away when he heard your voice.

Turning his head, he saw you squirt hand sanitizer on your hand, rubbing it in well before dressing up. Your gown covered your black and pink scrubs. Next came your hair cap and glasses. He watched your gold band slip into a glove before you came to his side.

"Doctor Abbot," you said, coming beside him and peering at his work, "I think this is a new technique I haven't seen before. Care to share?"

He huffed out a shaky noise, cutting deeper into flesh, "Something new from China."

"Ah, I see."

"They've started developing a way to try and get to the lungs without leaving a huge, unnecessary scar. That way, it's also easier for the OR to manage. If only I could..." He tried to squeeze his fingers into the incision, but couldn't make it past the first band of flesh.

Jack cursed, shaking his head. Maybe he had to try another way, maybe he had to look at it from another angle. He tried to recount the steps, but they were all getting jumbled in his head.

His wife.

This cut.

You.

His wife

This cut

You.

His wife.

You.

His wife

You.

You.

You.

You—

"Why don't I help?" Your voice, soft and sweet, floated up to his ear. When he looked down at you, you were... you were smiling.

You were smiling at him.

You leaned in, opening your hand and asking Shen for another scalpel. With a soft push of your hips, you moved him out of the way. You sliced a bit more, opening it up. Jack held his breath the entire time.

"I heard about this one." You mused, putting the blade back into the tray, before looking back at him, "I'd been meaning to try this one. Would you like to be my second?"

For once, he didn't falter, "I'd love to."

He knew the next step. This time, it was big enough to stick his pointer and middle finger into the wound, palm up. Blood squelched around his gloved knuckles as he went through, trying to find the source...

When your own hand slipped over his, your own two fingers joined him into the wound.

Jack's nostrils flared, as he felt the hot muscles and fat around his hand, but the even more calming presence of your gloved fingers above his.

"What... what're you doing?" He asked, afraid to break the moment.

"Adding our own twist. Think outside the box. The reason why those cases struggle with the surgery is that they make the incision way too small. Sure, that's the whole point, but you can't have it all. We can, however, make it just big enough to grab what we need."

He was sick, then, finding happiness in the fact that you and his hand were connected once more, this time in blood, and as you and his four fingers disappeared and appeared over and over

Jack chose to let that feeling calm him, push away everything wrong with today. He also chose to let that feeling push away Shen and Parker's glances at the scene.

Afterwards, when the surgery was successful, and the patient was taken upstairs, was when he was only able to find a clock after throwing everything away in the waste bins. Seven-fifty A.M.

That meant his shift was over. He had no other patients to report back on—technically, that was Shen's patient, so charting was all on him—so he quietly said he goodbyes to everyone, choosing not to linger like he usually did, and made his way into the lockers.

Of course, you were there too. You were slipping on your jacket, your backpack still inside your locker. Your hair was down, pulled up by your colorful hair tie.

You noticed him standing close by, punching in the code. You waved to him, "Slipping out while you can."

"Could say the same to you."

You chuckled, "Well, my kid isn't exactly really fond of not having any breakfast. And I promised her I'd take her to IHOP, so I guess work doesn't stop for me."

Jack shook his head, getting his backpack, "What's your order?"

You told him, shutting your locker and leaning against it. Your head was resting on it as well, "But I still steal some pancake bites from my daughter. She loves feeding me even though I tell her I'm full."

"Sounds like a kid."

"The best kid."

"And your husband? What does he like?"

For the first time, Jack saw you visibly frown at him, cocking your head to the side and squinting as if he were the one who had something heinous. It shocked him physically, so much so that he had to take a step back.

You matched his step, though, coming closer into his space and trying to see if his face was hiding something.

Only when you didn't find anything, did you speak:

"What husband are you talking about?"

Jack felt like he was getting fooled. He glanced around like someone else might be in on it. "I mean—I just thought—no, not thought, more like saw—a man. With your daughter. Remember back two months ago when she fractured her leg, and he carried her in? I thought that was your husband! You looked so comfortable. I thought it was a babysitter or brother until you hugged and held hands and she called him daddy. Well, maybe the "daddy" part should've told me sooner, but anyways, you still got the ring on your finger so—"

But he couldn't finish because your cackles had drowned out the entire locker area. You were doubled over, clutching your belly and holding onto the lockers for support.

Jack could only stand there dumbfounded as you wiped tears, fighting your breath to speak, "God, Jack, you're—god, you're something else! Me, a husband?! Jack Abbot, that's my ex-husband. Oh god, I have to tell him this, he's gonna lose his mind—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jack waved his hands like he was directing traffic, "But you have a ring! See! I see it right there!"

You looked down to where Jack was pointing, the golden band. You snorted once more before slipping it off and tossing it at him.

"It's a fake, Jack!" You laughed again. You were right. It was plastic, cheap, and shiny. The inside was smudged off to show the stainless steel, "I've had too many incidents in my residence of guys hitting on me. I decided a fake, second ring would help. That way, my real ring would be fine, while my peace of mind would also be protected. Guess the habit just... carried on."

Jack could only stare dumbfounded, his hand now curled up tight around the fake ring. This stupid little thing had been the bane of all these thoughts.

If he had opened his mouth, is he had some damn courage, then maybe he would've known ages ago. He would've been able to put himself out there to talk to you.

His late wife let him, but the only thing holding him back was...

"Are you free this weekend?"

You blinked, the sudden whiplash now shocking you. "Excuse me."

"I asked: are you—"

"I heard you the first time," you interrupted, "It's just... Jack, the way you're phrasing this sounds a lot like a—"

"I want you to tie up my hair." Jack said, with sudden gusto, "You gave everyone else hair ties, except me. A-and my hair's been getting longer, so maybe we could go to my usual bagel shop and get some food, and you could teach me how to tie up my hair."

"The only reason I didn't give you any hair ties was because you scared me!"

"Really?! Me?! I joke with everyone!"

"Yeah, you do, and you're fucking hilarious. But when it comes to me... You kinda just stare. And I know you're a military vet, Jack. Having you stare me down isn't exactly calming on my psyche."

Jack chuckled. "Well then, no more staring. I'll be fun and honest, how about that?"

"Promise?"

"Of course."

"For the bagel, meet up or you not staring?"

"Both."

You were already backing away from him and the conversation, "Then you have my number, Jack, you know where to call me. No need to get jealous anymore, now you can have all the colors you want."

Jack grinned stupidly at that.

Yeah, Jack had no more damn reason for this jealousy.

Not anymore.

Gosh, Jack, you're such a loser, you don't care if the woman you're chasing is married or not... ugh, come on and let's finger this wound together.

Masterlist

[mlemiie]

Clingy out of nowhere (drabbles)

- ❝you don’t usually initiate touch and intimacy, and you certainly aren’t the clingy type. until today that is. And he’s caught off guard.❞

⤷ Pt 2 જ⁀➴

˚₊‧꒰ა Tags ໒꒱ ‧₊˚: fluff, sweet like a cupcake, suggestive themes; SFW. Reader is she/her 𓂃۶ৎ wc: 400 per seperate fic (roughly)

₊˚ʚ Characters/status: Rob Lucci, Sir Crocodile, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Roronoa Zoro, (established relationship ˖ ໒꒱)

❝ ᝰ.ᐟ note: this is a request from a reader! I hope you enjoyed this sweetness because I sure did ( ⸝⸝´ ᵕ `⸝⸝)🤍❞

Rob Lucci

(Note: this man… I’m not normal about him)

Rob Lucci is a man of focus.

He doesn’t melt, doesn’t break, doesn’t bend.

A machine, if you must.

He was overlooking some reports concerning updates of the Underworld; feet landed on top of the table, his hat and tie slung over the chair. Even Hattori was nudging on some seeds by the table. He had that usual look on his face.

The: half-bored-half-scowling-cus-I’m-broody-and-stoic- look.

And that’s when you came in—he doesn’t glance, doesn’t look your way but he knows it’s you just from the steps.

“I’m working, so unless it’s important—“

You leech onto him in an embrace.

He freezes. Not blinking.

You dig your face into his neck. Burying. Nuzzling. Kissing him. Only then does he take his gaze to you. Letting go of the reports.

“… is everything as it should—?”

“Rob,” your hand places on his cheek, tilting his face to you as you give him a kiss on the lips. Quick, gentle, before giving him another three pecks on his cheek. Meanwhilst, you manoeuvre into his lap.

“Hey.” He says — and you only crash your face back into his neck. Humming. Taking in his scent. Dark cologne and brandy. He hesitates placing his hands on you.

“What’s gotten into you.” He tries to catch your gaze but you’ve made yourself at home under his chin.

“Rob…”

“Hm?”

“Call me pretty.”

He blinks. Lips parting.

And then a hand goes to your face. Pulling your cheek.

“Owowowow—“

He let’s go.

“What was that for!?” You rub your cheek, giving him a frown.

“I had to check if you were the real deal.” He leans back and you hmph.

Burying your face back in his neck.

… he’s not saying you’re pretty. You decide to punish him. Just a little. You give his neck a lick. A kiss. A nibble. Just a small one.

Rob is a man of focus. Doesn’t break, doesn’t bend, doesn’t melt. But for the first time in a long, long time—he flinches. Tenses.

“Did something happen?” He says at last and you shake your head. “No. I just missed you Rob.” You say, nestling your face into him. You adjust your seat in his lap, so to angle yourself deeper, closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He blinks, and carefully, carefully, he places his hands above your shoulder blades. Breathing as slowly as he can.

… right. Aha.

Sure. He’ll buy it.

His heart didn’t skip a beat. No. Absolutely not. Not Rob Lucci. And he’s not breaking, or bending or melting at all. Not at all — not even when he places his hand on the small of your back. pulling you closer. Kissing you back. (Lies)

Rob will let you rub yourself against him, like a cat marking her territory. He does not mind. No in fact, when your scent sticks to his shirt, he’ll hesitate putting it into the washer. But only hesitating.

Sir Crocodile

He was pissed.

Well. When isn’t Crocodile pissed?

Probably when he’s reading about rare mushrooms and where to gather them. Or when he overlooks his bananawani, like a proud father who can’t admit he has a soft spot for them.

Now, however — he isn’t smiling. Or laughing. Or smirking. No the man is scowling. Hard. The report paper crumbling in his hands as he sees Buggy’s spending habits finally starting to catch up to his schemes.

That’s when you tiptoe your way in to his office. He does not look your way, only takes a quick smoke before taking his cigar out his mouth. “Not now darling; I’m in the middle of work—“

You lock him in to an embrace without so much a word and he freezes.

He feels you nudging your face into his spine. Pulling him deeper from behind.

He glances over his shoulder. A sweat droplet slipping down his cheek. “… are you well? Did something happen—?” He turns to face you but you won’t let go.

You shake your head. Face buried in his chest. Arms still locked around his waist.

The report paper is suddenly all forgotten as it trickles down the floor. “You sure—?”

You press your face deeper into his chest.

He smells so good. Like something refined and expensive; you can’t get enough of it. Enough of him.

You look up from his waist and he tenses at the sight of your face. Flushed cheeks and eyes begging for more.

“I missed you; I want to be near you. Is that okay? Or are you too busy?” You don’t mean to sound whiny or pleading but whatever tone you’re using; it’s working.

He sets his work aside for you — steers you both down into his arm chair. Letting you nestle close into his chest, his skin.

You tug onto him like a little kitten mewling for its mother. You take in his scent, more and more and more, not once getting enough. You even earn a chuckle from him.

“You’re clingy today—what’s the change of heart?”

You withdraw only so you can stare at his handsome, smug face. You lean in and steal a kiss on the lips. Then on his cheek, jaw, nose and eye lid. You kiss everywhere and anywhere, ending it again on his lips.

His face is twitching as he tries his best to hold his composure.

“Jus’ missed you.”

“… I see.” He says, a smirk pulling on his lip. Tugging you closer.

He won’t be letting you go for a good while.

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law just finished an operation.

Figuratively speaking; he’s dead.

All he wants is to catch a nap before sunrise — opening his bedroom door however, he’ll spot you sitting on his bed.

He blinks; watching you inch closer. Your steps slow, deliberate—as if prowling for a kill.

“Hey, what’s up—?”

You lunge your arms over his shoulders, tiptoeing as you bring him into an embrace.

He tenses. Immediately.

Even when you press yourself against him, even when you take in the scent of him and your hands travel up his shoulders, to his neck and into his hair.

Your voice goes dangerously close to his ear. “Law… you smell so good.”

He blinks. Seven times to be exact.

“… yeah…?”

“Mhm.” You pull away, smiling. Arms still slung over his shoulders.

The tips of his ear are shot red.

You’re smiling, and your cheeks are round but he decides to ask anyways. “Is everything alright?”

You nod, leaning in and stealing a peck on his lips, hands sliding down to his chest. You tug him, steering him to bed.

“Uhhhhhhh—“ is what leaves his mouth when you press him down onto his mattress and climb over him. Locking your body over his. Digging your face under his collarbones.

“Hey. Babe.” He looks up, now it isn’t just his ears being red, but his face too. “I… uh I—?”

You glance up from his chest. “Shhh. Just let me hug you and enjoy it while it lasts.

The Surgeon of Death folds like a piece of paper.

Yeah sure — whatever his pretty girl wants.

Law sinks back down onto his pillow. Letting out the biggest breath from his chest. Heart pounding a little bit too fast.

He’s gonna sleep good tonight alright.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Donquixote Doflamingo.

Controlled, flamboyant and charismatic. Enough to fool a King and his kingdom that is.

It was dead in the night. He had just tucked you in a few hours ago.

Now — he was overlooking some of Vergo’s reports, wine glass half empty as he hears you tiptoeing inside his office.

He glances to you, this time; he wore no glasses or a grin. His eyes were tired, his face quiet but when you enter with a blanket wrapped around yourself—you earn a small incredulous little smirk.

“Oh? Can’t sleep cariña?” He says putting down the reports as you inch near.

You don’t say anything as you approach him, only looming over him when you finally come close.

He doesn’t pull you in — just watching your pretty face. “Go on… Is there something you want—?”

You lift your blanket, wrapping it over him with you. You come close, leaning into his hair. Taking in the scent of him.

For a moment — Doflamingo just blinks.

Even as you come closer, pulling him to you with the blanket and nestling your face into his neck.

“You’re warm.” You say, and move into his lap. Only then does Doffy look up. Brows pulling. “… are you upset? Did something happen?”

You shake your head. Adjusting your seat on his crotch. “No, I jus’ wanna be near you. That’s all. Promise.”

Funnily enough — the way he lets you settle in, it’s almost a bit clumsy. His hands hover above your hips, he leans back as if to not invade your space and his shoulders are tense.

But when you rest your cheek on his chest only then does he soften up.

He lands his hands on top of your shoulder blades. Bringing you close. Face leaning down to your ear. Voice hot on your skin.

“What’s with the special treatment?” He grins, “trying to earn yourself a reward—?”

“Yes. I am.” You look up to him “I missed you. I want to feel you, be with you. That’s what I want.”

And it’s like you stole his breath away. He blinks, chest empty. Grin immediately gone and something vulnerable, something raw appears on his face.

For once — this charlatan is at loss for words.

The fact that you want him, even when you know his true nature—it brings such a soft ache in his chest that he can’t describe as anything but relief.

When you see that he can’t answer you only give him a sheepish smile. Kissing the corner of his lip.

“Don’t get all ahead of yourself — I’m just clingy for tonight.” You say, tugging onto him. Burying your face in his neck.

And he scoffs.

Embracing and kissing you back.

Roronoa Zoro

He was sharpening his sword when you trudged inside.

He gives you one sharp glance. “If you’re gonna nag about how I forgot to buy you snacks then—“

Your steps are fast, hard—plunging. And before he knows it, you’re grabbing onto his bicep.

He freezes. Whatever he was doing with his sword — long forgotten.

For a moment; there is just silence between you two.

You nudging your face into his arm.

Him malfunctioning from your sudden switch in behaviour.

He glances to you, almost motorically.

“Oi. What’s going on.”

You cling onto him harder. And when you kiss his bicep, only then does he flinch.

“H-hey, if this is some tactic to go get me run you errands, it’s not working—“

“Zoro,” you breathe, looking up to him.

And he turns pink.

Must you be so damn pretty lady?

He clicks his tongue, looking away.

Returning to sharpening his sword.

You tug onto him. “Zoro.”

He pretends you aren’t there.

“Zorooooo” you whine, pulling him and tugging his arm but he tries his best to ignore his heart pounding out of his chest.

“What is it.” He bites back when you lunge over his back. Your chest pressed onto his spine as you lean over his shoulders.

“Pay attention to meee~” you whine out and looks to you. Eye twitching.

“Did something happen? You’re awfully clingy.”

You make a face and he grumbles.

Damn it. Fine. You win. Whatever.

He turns to face you, and you immediately push your face between his pecs.

Arms slung over his shoulders. You take in the scent of him. He smells so good, you just want to bite him.

“Everything alright?” He says at last, carefully bringing you close and you shake your head. “I missed you. I just wanna be with you. That’s all.”

“You sure that’s all—?”

You bring your mouth to his neck. Kissing him. Nibbling him.

“You smell so good. I want to eat you.”

He blinks. And then closes his eye. Sighing. Admitting defeat.

He’ll let you cling yourself onto him, let you rub and kiss him. Heart pounding out of his chest.

And when this moment of yours is over; he’ll miss it more than a touch starved sailor at sea.

‧₊˚ taglist┊@badum-tsss @fallingfortragedy @monoash @devilish-banshee @plunky-fish @lostfilmnerd @nakarinxx @vamp1catt @yunnie-fushi @notreggieanymore

[moodyabbott]

you really had no idea?

shy!reader x jack abbot | mdni | this is part two! find part one here

authors note: you guys!! thank you sm for the love on part one. i woke up early to write this because i just couldn’t stop thinking about them. ugh! xoxo

—

the next few weeks became torture in the sweetest way possible. because now jack had a mission and when he had a mission he was dead set on seeing it through.

he noticed how she tucked her chin down whenever he looked directly at her as they passed each other in the hallways.

he noticed how her hands fidgeted with her sleeves while waiting for the elevator. he even noticed how she’d smile at everybody’s dogs before their owners.

and most of all… he noticed she never believed him when he flirted with her. “morning, sweetheart.”

she would blink up at him all confused like who, me?

she was driving him insane.

-

on this rare occasion he was off on a friday evening and she was crouched in front of her apartment door struggling to find her keys in her tote bag as she placed her shopping bags on the floor beside her.

so when jack came up the stairs after working out in the gym in their apartment complex, his eyes immediately landed on her.

he called her name as he came up behind her, “what do we have here.” he clapped, “how much stuff did you buy?”

she jumped out of her skin so badly she wanted to just roll away. “oh my god!” she yelped. jack was quick to bend and balance her before she fell over “woe easy, there.”

“sorry,” she mumbled in embarrassment.

“why are you apologizing? i’m the one who startled you outta your shoes ” he chuckled.

“…i don’t know.”

“sorry.” he said earnestly making her smile up at him in response.

he bent down beside her before she could protest, grabbing two of the heavier bags like it was nothing. his forearm flexed under the sleeve of his black compression shirt and her brain basically did a short-circuit turning into mush as she noticed freckles painted against his perfect skin.

“i got it.”

“oh, wait! you don’t have to—”

“i know.”

they played this game before.

jack looked down at her then, his eyes narrowing “i’m happy to.” he shrugged.

her mind went blank. she thought she might actually pass out. jack definitely noticed. because a tiny smirk pulled at his mouth. not mean or anything… just pleased and maybe a little cocky.

-

once they arrived inside her apartment, she rushed around clearing space on the counter while he set everything down.

“thanks,” she said softly. “again… we’re always meeting like this” she let out an awkward chuckle.

jacks heart tightened at that. he hadn’t felt this way about someone like this since his wife. he knew he was walking into murky water, but he felt that it was time. it was right. “you always this nervous around me?”

his low teasing voice made her feel hot all over. she pressed her hand against her check as she glanced around her tidy apartment to play off her feverish blush.

“no. i don’t know what your talking about” she scoffed.

“sweetheart.” he laughed under his breath. “you can’t even look at me… it’s cute.” he mused, trying the waters.

her face went molten. she pinched her arm to confirm that this was actually happening.

oh god, this is actually happening.

jack leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching her carefully because he wasn’t teasing her anymore. suddenly he looked almost curious. cautious as he thought of what he was going to do next.

is this okay? he thought.

“has nobody told you you’re cute before?”

her mouth fell open. then closed. then open again before she finally let out a strangled sound, “not like that.”

jack’s entire expression changed. he looked at her like she’d said something completely unbelievable because how could men her age not understand the gravity of her being.

“are you serious?”

she shrugged awkwardly, looking everywhere but at him “i mean… not really.”

jack stared at her for a long beat before pushing himself off the counter, walking closer as he body twisted over hers. she wanted to shrink away and hide but the excitement in her stomach kept her feet grounded to the hardwood floor.

“c’mere.” he said causing her heartbeat to quicken so fast she was scared he might hear it.

she moved slowly so she was right in front of him, close enough that she could smell his cologne and the undertone of sweat that stuck to his clothes.

one of his fingers hooked gently under her chin. “can you look at me?”

she did as he asked, biting the inside of her cheek as jack’s gaze softened so much it almost hurt to look at him. the was floor disappearing from right under her feet as his touch electrified against her skin.

“pretty girl,” he said quietly like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you really have no idea, huh?”

-

one month later..

it happened on a thursday night.

the elevator opened on their floor just as she was coming back from taking out the trash, and there he was waiting to down and meet his friend robby for a pep talk.

jack was in dark sweatpants and a hoodie. he looked impossibly cozy and she couldn’t help but let her eyes travel down his body.

his eyes landed on her instantly. shock glittering his features. “oh hey, sweetheart.”

there went her ability on being a human being.

“hi, jack.” she smiled.

she stepped out of the elevator, his gaze lingering on her face as she crossed her arms for support while he looked like he was thinking for something.

jack sighed quietly to himself. he contemplated this for weeks, battling with the idea of going through with this. he wasn’t trying to replace his late wife. never. but he wanted to find connection again, and he just had a feeling about y/n.

trust your gut he said to himself.

“okay.”

she blinked. “okay?”

“i can’t keep doing this,” arms flying out beside him as he spoke.

panic. terror, earth shattering anxiety stampeding toward her at full speed.

“doing what?” she asked blabbed.

jack looked at her for a long moment before laughing softly under his breath. he couldn’t believe how sweet she was. how kind. how innocent. he wanted more. he needed to explore her in every way possible.

“you keep getting nervous every time we see each other,” he said.

her face burned hot enough to melt through concrete. “i’m sorry!” she said quickly, her hand flying onto grasp at his arm. her way of motioning that she felt horrible for making him even bring it up.

he took a step closer, allowing her hand to take grip of his hoodie as he shook his head at her, “don’t be sorry.” he cooed.

“i keep trying to get your attention and subtly dropping hints. but i don’t think you’re fully grasping my intentions here.”

she gulped. eyes zoning onto his while he craned his neck down, creating their own little bubble. as if he didn’t want to scare her off or loose his nerve.

“so i’m trying something else.” he finished.

she could hear her own heartbeat.

jack shoved one hand into his pocket, watching her carefully now. way less cocky than usual.

making the air even more serious. more charged.

“there’s this little deli a few blocks over,” he said.

“it’s been there for longer than you’ve been alive.. probably.” he said with a smile, “it’s open all night. shitty coffee. decent sandwichs.”

she stared at him and he stared back intently.

“carson’s deli?” she questioned, eyebrows raising

jack scoffed in surprise, “yeah, but—”

“they have good parm—” jack gaped at her. she was something else.

he laughed deeply making her stop and chuckle out a “what?”

“go with me on sunday afternoon.”

she genuinely forgot how to breathe.

[mugtrees003]

sunshine!reader x Titus Danforth where she walks into that cursed mansion acting like it isn’t haunted by generations of rich psychopaths and titus is immediately like oh this girl is going to die if i don’t physically keep her attached to my side.

like reader is all soft smiles and sleepy “good mornings” and wandering around barefoot at night meanwhile titus is losing his mind every time she disappears for more than five minutes because she has NO idea what kind of monsters live in that house 😭

and he tries so hard to stay distant at first. cold looks. clipped warnings. grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from locked doors with a rough “don’t go in there.”

but the tension??? insane.

because reader keeps noticing the little things. the way he always stands too close behind her during dinners. the way his hand lingers on her waist when he moves her out of danger. the way his voice drops lower whenever he tells her to stay in his room at night “for her safety.”

and GOD the first time she sneaks into his room after another nightmare from the chanting downstairs???

titus opening the door half dressed, exhausted, blood still staining his cuffs, only to completely freeze when she quietly asks if she can stay with him tonight because she doesn’t want to be alone 😭

this man trying SO hard not to touch her while she’s curled against his chest in his bed but the second she grabs his hand in her sleep he’s done for. absolutely finished.

and then after she accidentally witnesses one of the rituals and comes back shaking and terrified??

titus snapping. grabbing her face with both hands, checking her over like he needs proof she’s alive before pressing his forehead against hers and breathing out “i told you to stay away from this.” in that low angry voice that’s really just fear.

reader finally kissing him because she’s scared and emotional and he kisses her back like he’s been restraining himself for weeks 😵‍💫 all rough hands and desperate tension and titus trying to keep control while she’s literally sitting in his lap tugging at his shirt whispering “then stop pushing me away.”

the kind of relationship where every touch feels forbidden because the entire house is rotten and cursed but somehow they keep crawling back to each other anyway.

[littlebatx]

18+ minors dni

andrew “pope” cody bf headcanons !!

(content : nsfw talk being cockwarming, pussy eating, piv, he’s a crier, smurf is a bitch as usual, reader implied knowing the cody’s for a long time. google doc link with bigger text is at the bottom ♥︎)

eats the foods you don’t like for you.

smurf cooks for the boys and their guests multiple times a day. usually it’s delicious and you eat it up with no arguing. but today, she places glasses full of some green goo she calls “healthy”.

yeah, no thank you.

you really try. eyes glancing between all the guys who drink it with no issue, maybe you’re just judging a book by it’s cover. with one sip, you come to the conclusion that you are not. no matter how healthy this drink is, it’s nasty as fuck. you swallow it down thickly, trying to keep your poker face on.

beside you, andrew is watching. and you’re not the best actor. he can read everything in your expression.

he takes the glass from you with no words exchanged, a hand on the back of your head as his way of saying, “it’s okay. i’ll finish it for you”.

he knows how you don’t like to waste food. and thankfully, he’s like a garbage chute.

smurf notices this habit, and sneers at you. it’s insulting to her that you don’t eat or drink every single thing she slaves in the kitchen to make you. and she hates it even more that andrew excuses it and covers for you.

while we’re on the topic, smurf does not like you.

it’s not like you’re new to their lives. you’ve been around for awhile. she knows you’re trustworthy.

but when push comes to shove, she knows that andrew is too attached to you. and one day, he will pick you over her.

you think it’s maybe some internal misogyny she has. she likes being the most important woman in her son’s lives. even going to the great lengths of distancing herself from her own daughter to do so.

everything you do to win her over is met with a fake smile and some bullshit condescending tone. you’ve gotten to the point where you just don’t even try anymore. it’s not worth it.

andrew loves you and thats all that matters.

he likes watching you.

people around you find it creepy. not really that surprising. most adults grow out of their staring problems. pope never did. especially when it came to you.

you can feel his eyes like a 20 pound weight on your shoulders at all times. if you’re in the same room, good chance he’s probably looking at you.

it used to make you feel a bit self conscious. slowly but surely you learned that it’s just his way of showing affection for you. he’s sort of like a cat in that way.

he likes when you find his gaze and reach over to pinch his cheek. anything to get an ounce of attention.

when it comes to jobs, he doesn’t care about you knowing about them. what he does not want is anything being traced back to you.

a lot of the time, he enjoys having your input. often you’ll sit in between his legs on the ground, him on the couch or a seat as they discuss whatever job they are talking about. you’re a whole lot smarter than his three brothers combined so hearing what you have to say about the heists they plan is a breath of fresh air. which he does not get too much of.

but if they such as imply your involvement in any of the jobs, he shuts that shit down real fuckin’ fast.

that’s one thing that slightly bothers you. you want in on these things sometimes. you don’t have a job because he takes care of you well enough that you don’t need one. but you want to feel useful. like you actually do something.

when you bring it up to him, he shakes his head. this is the only time where he yells. not really at you, but kind of at you. he can’t understand why you would want to be apart of what his family does.

if you cry, he softens up immediately, cradling your face in his hands. he apologizes for getting angry with you, but he does not apologize for protecting you.

he’s been to prison. spent too much time there and he never wants you to have to experience and see the things that he had to. you’re too perfect for that.

andrew does not play when it comes to you.

what he does like to do is spoil you rotten with what he gets from the jobs.

you gotta hide money somewhere. properties is a good way to do it. but andrew’s favorite way is to invest it into expensive jewelry he can dress you up in!

it’s always so awkward. he comes up to you with a pretty velvet box, holding it out like a cat would a dead rodent. he has that weird pursed lipped look on his face, waiting for you to take it and open it.

once you do, it’s always something glitzy. and you always show so much gratitude.

“popey!” you coo, holding up whatever piece he bought you this time. “it’s so pretty! put it on me! put it on me!”

he gets you so much junk you don’t even know where to put it all. you’ve got jewelry box after jewelry box just to store everything. and you’d never even consider getting rid of any of it. not at the chance of seeing that pathetic little pout on his pretty face.

speaking of pathetic … he’s pretty pathetic.

like. really fucking pathetic.

following you around like a lost puppy for your attention.

answers your calls before the first ring is even heard.

lets you drag him wherever you want. you move him around like a doll and he just .. lets you. has that dumb stare during it too.

drops to his knees in front of you very often. too often. he worships the ground you walk on. he always needs you to know that you’re above him in every sense of the word. loves when your fingers find their way into his curls too.

the way he looks up at you is just YUMMYYYY. sad eyes big and glassy with his mouth parted just a bit. you might as well be some demi-god to him.

every intimate moment with him you awaken that part of him x100.

we’ve already discussed how when he’s tongue deep in your pussy he’s sobbing his eyes out, usually unable to give it a rest. it’s not even pretty cries too. snotty and throaty. grooooosssss boy.

even when he’s pounding into you on top, his head is dropped into your shoulder, sniffling and crying about how good you feel and how he can’t possibly understand how you let him do this to you.

and when you’re on top, he can barely even look away. blinking is an annoyance because that nanosecond of staring at you bouncing on his cock and screaming his name is taken from him. he always keeps a hand on your hips. and if he wants to hold anything else, he always begs.

this munchkin looooooooves sleeping inside of you.

he tries to make it a nightly routine. you indulge him a lot. but sometimes, your pussy needs a break.

“not tonight, popey,” you hum, rolling onto your side. “we can tomorrow.. promise..”

he stares at you like you just said you were gonna shoot him and dump the body in the ocean. what is he? chopped liver?!

could you blame him though? it was just so warm and cozy in there. like a third home to him. and it made him inhumanely close to you. with his dick all nestled inside and his big beefy arms around your waist, hugging you against him, he could sleep for months in complete comfort.

the only issue is that you know how he is. most of the time, he just wakes up in the middle of the night hard as a rock and starts plowing into you from behind.

poor baby. he apologizes profusely which i guess makes up for it. he’s all, “‘m so sorry- fuck! baby- i’m sorry.. ahh- couldn’t help it.. go back to- mm- sleep.. go to sleep..”

nobody on the outside of you two would imagine it. he’s so fucking scary to everyone else. but for you? he’s a popsicle and you’re the beating summer sun.

(google doc link)

a/n : i MUST do more of these. my brain is just always popepopepope

[cherrywineisawaltz]

can you imagine being the girl baz is obsessed with but you like pope. baz doesn’t even know how to handle that. girls always choose him over pope but not you. you just love how freaked out pope is 🤭

Nearly hit my head on the wall jumping onto my bed when I saw this oh god

No one is blind to the torch Baz holds for you, at your beckon and call no matter the time, no matter the place, always doing things he assumes will earn your favor over his brothers. He’s paid your rent, bought you a new car with money from their latest run when your battered truck keeled over, flushing his account dry at your mercy. Spent nights being the shoulder you cried on, listening to each sob without even so much as a kiss goodnight, much less a well deserved fuck for treating your meanial problems like the terrible misfortunes you were convinced they were. But none of it matters. It genuinely perplexes him how you dote on the oldest Cody brother. Perking up the moment Pope comes into the room, lips spread into a wide grin as you sit up to greet him, utterly joyful when he pulls you to take the seat on his lap. It makes him sick watching Pope's hands run up and down your plush thighs, head tucked into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with your sweat clinging to your skin, all while you giggle and press back into him, egging him on as his hands drifts up your tummy, disappearing under your shirt to grope your tits, “Andrew!” you’d squeal, but it’s hardly badgering.

Baz is irritatingly aware of how much you prefer Pope to him, as much as it pained him to admit to himself, you seemed to like the sick shit Pope did. Smiling bright when Pope just sits and watches you, unnervingly still, just keeping on as you were while he just stares. You’re disgustingly affectionate. Kissing the bandaged cuts on Pope's face from his fights, nipping his bruised knuckles with the blunt of your front teeth, sucking on his thumb when he pushes it past your lips, uncaring to his family being so near, completely and solely focused on Pope. When he crashes at Smurfs he has to listen to the sounds of your heinous drunk fucking while urgently urging his own hangover to will itself from his aching body. The harsh slapping of skin through the walls, your drunken cries, “Oh—fuck—Andrew,” echoing through the walls. “My sweet girl—sweetest fuckin’ pussy. Just for me, all for me,” he can hear the repeated sounds of Pope murmuring ‘mine’, obsessively affirming all while you whine and moan, “All yours—only yours—fuck!”  Baz feels like purging.

[idktbh-justwriting]

Bleed Me Part 2

Pope Cody x Reader!Vampire AU

Notes: Sorry guys I’ve been SICCKKK! But here you go, hope its okay because i still dont know what im doing. I’m gonna explore some stuff next time okay so I’m excited. Just to further push this, i will be diverting from the CANON because i dont like ittttt. Seriously I hope this is okay, i wanted to make it longer than the last one so there is some buildy stuff. Please read the notes and warnings for triggers, we got some stuff in this one. please check out the previous parts for more warnings info ect!!!

word count : 4,897

Tags/Warnings: vampire!reader, neighbour!reader, female!reader, painter!reader, stalker!pope, stalker!reader, age gap - reader is older, instant attraction, BAMF!reader, creepy violent men, harassment, violence, fighting, biting, bloodsucking, slight peeping tom, other Cody’s in this fic, Smurf, slight stalking, relapsing? I guess, however you want to view it?

part 1

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You are ambushed the moment you walk through the house's patio; they are each introducing themselves, so you can finally piece together who everyone is from your eavesdropping. Jay and Deran are not really what you had imagined; though they seemed nice enough, Baz was to some degree. But Craig. Craig looks precisely how you pictured him, and he is already looking at you too hard in the sundress you picked out. You tried to play it safe and wear something you deemed respectable for the area, and now you were starting to worry that you had picked the wrong thing.

You were thinking too much and didn't notice him appear next to you. His smell overpowered your nose, that salty-sweet musk you've grown to miss when you're not around him. He places his hands on your mac and cheese to take it from you, politely, and his fingers brush against yours. He is staring. You turn to him, seeing his face this close in the light for the first time. It takes you an incredible effort to remain completely nonchalant, but god damn, this man is truly beautiful. You can see his face is smattered with freckles, and his eyes are a light hazel, visible only for a second before he tilts his head down and averts his gaze from yours. You want to see them again. You can feel the boys around you shift uncomfortably. Before anyone says anything, you say your first words to him," Hello," and a name, one you haven't uttered in a decade, your real name, something so deep and personal that you almost feel shame at saying it aloud to him when you haven't interacted for more than five minutes. Before that shame sits deep inside you, he shifts his eyes up towards your face again and says, "Andrew".

You start, confusion falling over your face for a swift moment, before you regain composure. Andrew? You realise, in this moment, this small, short moment between the two of you, that he has done the same thing. Not once have you heard this man referred to as Andrew.

As soon as you make this connection, a pit begins to form in your stomach; his smell overloads your nose and coats your mouth, his face, the sheer closeness of him, the intimacy of your names, and his low, husky voice start to feel too much. A breath gets caught in your throat, the blood pumping through you strains against the walls of your veins, and your mouth starts to feel like it has too many teeth.

"Pope, let's not scare the neighbour just yet," comes a voice. Smurf.

You finally let go of the mac and cheese. Your mouth returns to normality, and the moment is gone. You catch a glimpse of Craig and Deran exchanging a specific look. Before you turn to face Smurf, you don't know what you expected, but it wasn't what's in front of you now. She sounded both far too young and far too old to look the way she does. "Name's Janine, but everyone calls me Smurf. Why don't you help me set the table?' It felt more like a command than a question, but you followed suit regardless.

Once the table is set, it feels like everyone is talking to you at once. You answer the best you can. Right now, you're trying to understand the play here, listening to how the Codys talk to you. Before you know the best way to act. Normally, you would know everything you needed to at this point and would already be weaving a perfect story together to cover up the fact that maybe you aren't who you say you are. But everything about the place was overstimulating: the smells, the people, the intensity of every single interaction. You can practically taste the coke coming from Craig, Baz is clearly Smurf's favourite, and very much so his own favourite. Both Deran and Jay are quieter, but they both have this energy, something holding them back; they feel different to one another, and you can sense the walls they've built.

Still, nothing could have truly prepared you for the intensity of Andrew. His presence was proving to be more of a distraction than you thought it would be. The hole he was staring into your face from further up the table, his teeth clenching in response to any comment that felt flirtatious from Craig, the way he would suck his breath in when you would absentmindedly play with the neck of your beer bottle or dart your tongue out to wet your lips.

You were managing, and you could sense the game they were playing here, trying to fatten you up with the family finances, the food, the drinks, before Craig pounces on you. But you weren't playing into Craig; you have no interest in Craig. Your attention slips to Andrew from time to time. You shoot him glances, desperate to take in anything about his appearance, the way he has a permanent scowl on his face, but he would look away from you and return his gaze as soon as you turned to face someone else. It made you sad.

Smurf begins to notice your disinterest in Craig. To her credit, she does notice your interest in her other son. You're not exactly being as subtle as you would, but Pope's smell still envelops your nose, and your fingers burn wherever your hands met. You feel like a teenager, fresh into your life after death, ichy, borderline manic, and so damn thirsty.

"Would you like a drink, baby?" she asks you, like she can see into your thoughts. "There is some beer in the fridge, help yourself. Pope, show her where to go, would you?" Graig shoots Smurf a confused look, but she doesn't acknowledge it.

A silence hovers between you and Pope for a split second. You look at him, and he is looking down at the table, still not meeting your eyes.

"Pope." It wasn't a request.

"Yeah..yeah", he slowly rises from the table and says softly, "The kitchen is just through here."

He walks with his back straight, his hair slightly sticking up at the front, and he's wearing a blue sleeveless shirt that hugs his body. He looks almost adorable. You follow him into the kitchen, as you hear the patterings of Craig voicing his opinion, "Why would you leave her alone with Pope?" And her dismissive response.

He walks into the kitchen, and you follow close behind, walking around an island in the middle. He has pushed himself into the corner of the cabinets. "The beer is just in the fridge," he says, talking to the floor. You can hear his heart beating fast, and you get excited at the thought that he's nervous to be alone with you. You take a trepid step forward, his head tilted, and his eyes flicker up, peaking at you through his lashes. The feeling in your mouth returns; it's dry, and you want to grit your teeth to relieve some pressure in your gums. He is still not looking at you fully; he just glances at your face before looking down again. A smile forms on your face, and you step closer again, closing him in to the corner he's boxed himself in. You breathe him in and can taste his sweat in the air.

"I am parched, Andrew", you say softly, borderline predatory grin on your face. At the mention of his name, he snaps his head up to fully look at you, and you hear his breath hitch. He is so pleasing to look at; his mouth is almost in a pout, his knuckles are white, gripping the edge of the counter behind him. You stare at each other for a while, and you have the real chance to examine his face; you can see his eyes doing the same to yours. His pupils are blown, and you know yours are the same. You step ever so slightly forward into his space, and you can see his jaw clench and his eyes roll back into a blink briefly. His nostrils flare, and all you can smell is him; it's everywhere musky, sweaty, salty with that tiny hint of sweet, him, him, him, him, him.

He moves his hand onto your arm, and you can't help but lean into his warm touch. His arm trails up towards your shoulder, and he leans his head down closer to your face.

You can't help it; the teeth that sit in the space above your gums have retracted, and all you can think about is a taste. Just a sweet little taste. Please, please.

The next thing you know, you're in the basement of your house, the remaining stockpile of blood bags you had left, scattered all over the floor, your mouth is wet and cold, and your hands are slimy, and it is just. Not. Enough.

⛧──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────⛧

The moment you walk through to meet the Codys, Pope's brothers (specifically Baz and Craig) descend on you like dogs. Pope is at the back of the pack, as is his usual place when interacting with literally anyone since he got out of prison. They're introducing themselves, checking you out too hard. You're wearing a long sundress that hugs your body, and Pope instinctively gets angry at the thought of them ogling you. He sees that you are holding the mac and cheese you brought over to share with the Codys, and, to be polite or just to grab your attention, he moves closer to you to take it from you. His fingers brush over yours as he takes hold of the dish, and he stares into the side of your face as you chatter with his brothers. Pope is awed at the sigh of you this close and clear. It is sunny today, and the sun is behind you, giving you a glow around the side profile of your face. He knows he needs to stop staring; he knows he should move, but he is so enamoured of your face, he just can't. And then. You turn to look at him, and it becomes overwhelming. He looks at the ground, instinctively, but doesn't move his hand or say anything. Pope knows he's being weird, that he is making you uncomfortable; he can see it in the way his brothers shift their weight and exchange glances.

"Hello!" You say to him, and you introduce yourself to him. He hears the musical sound of your name, and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard, and Pope looks at you again. There you are, in front of him, looking at him in the eyes, and everything about you is just so inviting to him; there is a kindness in your eyes, and a slight upward quirk in your mouth and Pope cant bare the thought that you wont know if name, so he replies, "Andrew" and his voice is gruff, almost resistant to saying anything in the first place. Andrew sees something, though he's not quite sure what, cross your face and the sound of his name. And for what feels like an extraordinary amount of time, you just share a look: You are looking at him right in his eyes, and you look at him with an intensity he has not experienced before. He wants to turn to look down, worried you'd look too hard and discover something in his eyes, something that would mean you wouldn't look at him like that again, but he doesn't. He can see your nostrils flaring, the kind look in your eye disappear into dilated pupils, and your mouth stretch wider.

"Pope, let's not scare the neighbour just yet," Smurf's voice cuts through the moment, and you let go of the mac and cheese, and shame floods Pope at the loss of contact.

Pope spends the next 45 minutes in hell. All his brothers were paying too much attention to you, and he couldn't blame them. You are the most captivating person he has ever met; there is something so addictive about your presence. You handle everything that is thrown at you. Pope can't believe how well you fit into the family; it's like you've been family friends with everyone since you were kids. You say the right things, laugh at the right times, but reveal almost nothing about yourself in the process. Craig is practically throwing himself at you, and you don't even nibble on a single line he throws your way. You are polite and airy, but you do not flirt with anyone.

He does not speak; he just stares. He takes what he can from this moment and studies everything about you. The way you tilt your head back when you laugh, the way your hair falls on your face when you lean forward, the way the dress complements the colour of your skin so perfectly. The way your hands grip the beer you're holding, how sometimes your tongue licks the rim of the bottle when you look in his direction, is something he has filed away somewhere private and personal. How sometimes some nervousness peaks through your perfectly constructed personality, and you lick the corner of your lips to cope.

Most importantly, how often you look in his direction. Pope just can't deal with it, so he does not meet your gaze, dropping his eyes away from you, only to move them right back when you turn your attention to someone else.

Pope knows that Smurf is trying to study how best to treat you, how she can manipulate you into doing what she wants, and the thought makes him feel a little sick. He feels defensive on your behalf, but he knows it's mostly possessiveness. He saw you first; his family doesn't have the right to even think about using you to their own filthy needs.

Smurf says something he doesn't catch, and then “There is some beer in the fridge, help yourself. Pope, show her where to go, would you?" Pope knows it isn't a request; he knows she's using him to get to you, and he doesn't want to help her or put you in harm's way.

“Pope.”

“Yeah, yeah, He stood up, keeping his eyes on the table, “The kitchen is just through here”, he can feel you following behind him, he moves into the corner of the cabinets to give you as much space as possible, looking down and passively waving his hand toward the fridge. He doesn't want to appear threatening; he doesn't want you to see him and feel afraid; he wants you to like him.

You take a small step in his direction, and Pope's heart hammers against his chest. Against better judgment, he slowly lifts his head to peer at you. You are staring at him, Pope can feel his cheeks heating more than they already were, and he can't bring himself to look any more; his head tilts away from you again.

He hears your breath hitch in your throat, and you move towards him so he has nowhere to go, cramped into the corner of the counter. Your voice, sultry and soft: “I am parched, Andrew.” At the mention of his name, Pope snaps his head up to look at you; his own breath catches in his throat. He takes the time to look at you, he basks in the intimacy of this moment, and Pope can't look away from your face, your lips, your eyes, pupils blown to hell. You smell like mint and beer, with something really deep he can't put his finger on. He takes a deep breath, wanting to remember the smell, be buried in it. There is nowhere for Pope to move, but you continue to invade his space, slowly. There is an expression on your face that he can't read, but your mouth has shifted into a wide grin. Pope feels himself shiver, his teeth chatter, and his cock strains hard against his jeans; his hands are sore from the strength of his grip. You are so close he can feel your breath on his cheek, he watches your face intently, your eyes flick over his own, landing on his nape. The heat of your breath tickles his neck, and you lean so close to him that he can't help but reach out and touch you. He places his hand against your arm, surprised by the coldness of your skin, as you lean into him, and he traces it towards your shoulder. You haven’t removed your gaze. He wants you, he wants to feel your lips on his, he wants to taste your mouth. He leans his head down to meet your face, and moves his hand to pull your chin towards him, and finally, he barely grazes his lips to yours.

A low sound, a mix between a groan and a whimper, slips from your mouth, and the next moment, you're gone from Pope's space.

He blanks for a moment, confused by the loss of contact. You are on the other side of the kitchen, and your face looks pained. Your mouth opens to say something, but Pope speaks first, “I’m sorry I-“ on instinct, terrified he’s done something bad.

But you’re gone, you’re out the door, you almost take it off the wall. Pope steps forward to follow you, but you’re already past the garage. “What did you do, bro?” He hears, but he’s following, his steps slow and steady. The gate is closed, but there is no sign of you. He stands there, arms hanging at his sides. Baz and Craig come up behind him. “What happened?” “She RAN out of here, bro”. To which Pope says nothing; he just grabs his jacket and leaves.

Pope doesn’t see you for the next few weeks. And he tries. He goes to all the spots he’s seen you before, he stays up late and tries to watch you through the window, and he even goes out of desperation, steps into your property and snoops through your windows, but you are nowhere to be found. Every time his family bring it up, Pope shuts down. He does what he’s told, when he’s told, but he barely speaks a word that doesn’t need to be said. They talk about new jobs and allowances, and Craig goes on benders. Everyone is resistant to Jay, but Smurf is insistent that he stay. He still has to sleep at the motel, and Baz tries to tell him to be careful because a few more people have been going missing in that area lately, but Pope doesn’t care. Everyone is walking on eggshells around him, and it drives Pope crazy. He sleeps less than usual, buries himself in the destruction and building of the fountain, and wanders around outside at night. After a week of that, Smurf starts cooking his favourite meals, practically force-feeding him even when he’s not hungry.

He thinks about you every day. He replays that moment in his mind, trying to see what he did wrong, where he made you uncomfortable. He can think of everything and nothing. You moved to him, you came onto him, you invaded HIS space. He didn’t make the first move; he followed your lead. He caves once, and grips his dick hard at the memory of your smell, of the heat radiating off your body. The glint in your eye and your constant eye contact. The sight of you in the sundress.

He pumped his cock, slow, imagining it was you holding him firm, and he almost brought himself to the edge, but guilt and a tiny hope that you would do the honours of making him come over you in person made him stop.

The next time he saw you, you looked better than you ever had before. You were practically glowing. Pope wanted to say something to you, but two separate men had come over to you in the time since he first noticed you. Who hits on women in the grocery store? It made Pope angry, so angry. He wanted to take those men out the back and hit them until they stopped thinking about you, but he wouldn’t. Instead, he waited and watched, making sure you were safe. He didn’t want to talk to you, for fear you would outright reject him. So he tails you home, he watches you carry your bags in, multiple in both hands, one trip, truly impressive. When you walk into your house and lock the door, Pope can finally breathe easy. His girl next door is finally home.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You are clearly not in your right mind. You can hardly remember the last moments in the Codys' house with Pope. All you can think about is your hunger, the dark need that growls in the back of your throat. The deep cold in your stomach. Looking at the piles of empty blood bags on the floor only makes it worse. As soon as you realise you have nothing left, you lose all sense, barely clean up, and leave the house. You walk maybe five blocks, it could be 10, before you find yourself walking down some random alley, with three guys chirping at you…Was it three? Maybe it was four. They are goading each other, crowding you, pulling at your hair and clothes. You start laughing pretty quick into this whole bravado bullshit. It takes about eight minutes to completely dismantle the group of men harassing you. One forceful push sends one man into the wall, with a wet crack, and he’s on the floor, unmoving. Another comes at you in response, but you grab at his throat and slam him into the ground. You’re on one, maybe he was running away? Or perhaps towards you. Your arms are around his head and your feet around his back, and oh, yes, finally. Hot, wet relief pours into your mouth, and oh god, it's just so, so good. You hear one man running away, like full sprinting, and all it takes is for you to remove your mouth from the neck of whoever you’re attached to.

“Stop, don't move, stay there”, he complies to the command, but the effort of having to do it forces you straight back onto the man's throat again. You’re on one drink your fill, more than your fill, with the amount of men lying around you, overfeed yourself until you're euphoric. Did you kill one? You can’t remember; you only remember eating, commanding them to forget the last hour, feeding some more, then providing them with some blood in return, to clear up the condition you left them in faster than it would without it.

The next time you’re fully aware, it's a few days later, you’re not so young into your vampirism that you have left a complete disaster in your wake, but the damage you have done is not the last.

The beast has been unleashed, and your hunger cannot be satiated by blood bags alone, especially with the tense temptation next door. It isn’t enough; the need for fresh blood is overpowering, and you spend the next week refining the act of feeding.

The first time you do this, you put on one of the sluttiest outfits you currently own, a short black dress that lifts your chest nicely, a long, tight pair of knee-high boots, and something so fluffy it could hardly be considered a jacket.

You don't think too much about which part of Oceanside is best to do this; you just go somewhere you remember seeing sleezy men harass women outside bars once, when you followed Andrew to the motel he was sleeping at.

You go to a dark corner of some random bar and listen intently to the conversations of the patrons. You zone in and out of conversations, itchy and restless, desperate to pick out some loser who will throw themself at you. It doesn’t take too long until you hear some guy, not taking no for an answer, harassing some poor girl who doesn't want anything to do with him.

“Come on, babe, let me buy you a drink!” You can hear his voice, high and weasel-like; he has put himself between her and the bar. “Thank you, but I’m actually waiting for someone.” The woman replies, her disinterest clear in her voice. “Yeah, but you can hang with me until then, yeah?” God, his voice is annoying. “I appreciate that, but they’re gonna be here like, any moment.”

“Well, I don't see anyone here, just you and me, so let me buy you a drink.” This time

It didn’t feel like a request, and you can see the discomfort in her body language, the way she covers herself up when he leers at her.

You know you should have waited a little longer, but you were struggling enough as it was; if you'd been any worse off, you would have just grabbed the first person you saw and taken them right there in the road. You move towards him, near the edge of the bar and push yourself into the space next to him and ‘accidentally’ push hard into his back. He turns to confront you, but his anger dissipates when he sees you looking up at him, “Oh, I'm so sorry, I’m so clumsy”, you say, pretending to slur your words a little.

“Don't worry about it, you’re a pretty little thing ain’t you?” You force a giggle in response, and you check over his shoulder to see the girl move elsewhere in the bar. “Aren’t you just the sweetest. Thank you so much, you’re not so bad yourself.” His grin widens at the bullshit spewing out of your mouth. You move your hand up to his thigh and rest it there. “Can I get you a drink, young lady?”

“I actually think I would rather just go back to yours” You grin widely at this statement and flutter your eyelashes. You hear the man's heartbeat speed up, and see his mouth open slightly at your forwardness. “Oh, yeah, I think we can do that”.

Hook, line, and sinker, baby.

You spend the next week feeding at your leisure, and you only go back home once or twice. You are afraid to see Andrew again, worried about your last encounter and if you did anything untoward to him. You shouldn’t have gone over there without being fed properly, but you couldn’t predict the temptation he would have over you. Being in his presence was harder than it should have been, but something about him had an iron grip on you, more than just his beauty; it was the way he carried himself. As though he carried some guilt for being different, or for something to do with his line of work. You wanted to get to know him, but you needed time before seeing him again, before trying to have a conversation with the man without trying to eat him.

By the end of the second week, you had mellowed out some, and drinking fresh blood had made you stronger, faster, and more in control. You only needed to feed once or twice a week with fresh blood, which dramatically cut back on blood bags consumption. You felt great. You are ready to go back home, looking forward to carrying on your paintings and getting into the swing of ‘human’ life again.

You notice that he’s following you around the grocery store as soon as he sees you there. It wasn’t intentional; you both happened to be there at the same time. You had let the food in your fridge go bad and desperately needed fresh food. You most definitely knew he was there before he noticed you; it was his scent that hit you first, then his slow, steady heartbeat. You saw him looking at cereal, his posture straight, the staple shirt type he always wore tight against his chest. He was mumbling to himself when some guy came up to talk to you. You were polite but uninterested, maintaining conversation for a short time, trying to get a peek at Andrew, when you heard him exhale, and his heartbeat quickened. You knew that it was because of you, after he muttered something under his breath about choosing to hit on someone at the grocery store. From there, it was his turn to follow you around the store. You were amused at this; you missed his presence, the way he followed you discreetly. If you didn’t have an advantage, you were sure you wouldn’t know he was there.

He followed you the whole way home, tailing you in his big truck, keeping a safe distance. He pulled in further up the road than you did, staying in his car, watching you walk into your door with your shopping. A smile remained on your face the whole time, and you aren’t sure if he got the cereal he was looking at.

That night, you undress slowly in front of your window, just as a treat for him, and you can hear his slow, shallow breaths in response.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the day you talk to him. Tomorrow will be the day youl learn something new about Andrew Cody.

[serpenttines]

Andrew Cody and Obessed!Reader

Obsessed!Reader who's been seeing Pope for a while. 1 year 182 days and 18hrs, really. Not that you kept track anyways.

Obsessed!Reader who his brothers sees as a socially adept version of him. You mirror a lot of Pope's more eccentric mannerisms, but knows when to turn it off.

Obsessed!Reader who his brothers have watched stare at people with that same vacant stare Pope does. Compulsively clean the area around you. And get a little too aggressive sometimes.

Obsessed!Reader who doesn’t give pope any space. Who sees him sitting on a chair next to the pool, parking yourself on his lap, swing her legs across him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as with your cheek pressed against his. Pope didn’t mind, his hand absentmindedly, rubbing up and down your thigh.

Obsessed!Reader who follows him around, no matter what he's doing. Even following him into the bathroom when he has to pee. (you've asked to hold it a couple of times)

Obsessed!Reader who can't help but watch Pope sleep, whenever sleep finds him. When Pope opens his eyes and finds himself make eye contact with you, he can't help but feel a little warm inside.

Obsessed!Reader who gets just extremely a little jealous sometimes. Despite Pope's thoughts to the contrary, he was a very attractive man, and sometimes his off-putting nature only serves as an intrigue.

Obsessed!Reader who can't help glaring at anyone who talked to your man. For the most part she didn't say anything, just hovered around. Though there had been times where you've felt the need to step in.

Obsessed!Reader who waits from him to get home. Sitting in the dark waiting from Pope to walk in from a job. The first couple times you nearly give Pope a heart attack as you greet him from the darkness. He quickly gets used to it. Enjoying it even.

Obsessed!Reader who cuts a piece of his hair while he sleeps. The next morning he goes to the bathroom, looking in the mirror, and seeing a chunk of curls missing from the front of his head.

Pope who asks Obsessed!Reader if you cut his hair. You admit it, with a tone of confusion. You don't understand what you did wrong.

I saw Obsession yesterday, that shit was so good. Y'all have to see it. I got these thoughts while watching the movie.

[pushingitdownnpraying]

Since you're taking Pope Cody requests... I always like to think about a reader that's as weird as he is. Sorta like a lurker, silently walking up on people. And they just get each other.

Mainly because I hate to think about how he feels whenever anyone says he's weird 😭

The house was quiet for once—no Craig blasting music, no Deran yelling at the TV, no J skulking around like a guilty puppy. Pope liked these nights. He came through the back door a little after midnight, kicked off his boots, and padded down the hall to his room without bothering with lights.

You were already there, of course.

Sprawled sideways across his bed like you owned it, legs kicked up against the wall, hood half over your face, slowly spinning one of his old pocket knives between your fingers. The blade caught the faint light from the window every few turns. You didn’t look up when he walked in. Just kept spinning.

Pope shut the door and dropped onto the mattress beside you, one hand landing on your thigh like it belonged there.

“You eat?” he asked, voice low and flat.

“Stole half your sandwich. Left the crusts. Figured you’d want them.”

He huffed a short breath through his nose—his version of a laugh—and stole the knife from your fingers mid-spin. You let him. Then you rolled over, crawling halfway onto his chest like an overgrown cat that had decided this was its new favorite spot.

Six months in and the brothers still didn’t know what to do with you.

At first they thought you were just another quiet girl Pope had attached to. Then they realized you were basically Pope in slightly smaller packaging. Same eerie stillness. Same way of staring at people until they started shifting uncomfortably. Same random rituals that made zero sense to anyone else.

Craig had walked in on you once organizing all the ammo boxes by color and weight while humming some off-key song. He’d backed out slowly and told Deran, “Bro… she’s crazier than Pope. I’m not even kidding.” Deran now made a point of announcing himself loudly whenever he came down the hall. J flat-out avoided eye contact if you were in the kitchen. They were low-key terrified of you, and Pope found it quietly hilarious and kind of a turn on.

You tapped three times on his chest, paused, tapped two long ones, then three again. Your little pattern. He didn’t stop you. He liked it. It was one of the dozen weird things you both just got.

“Job was boring,” you mumbled against his shirt. “Watched the drop spot for three hours. Nothing moved except that one seagull that kept trying to steal the same french fry. I named him Kevin.”

Pope’s mouth twitched.

You lifted your head, eyes bright in that slightly unhinged way that only came out when it was just the two of you. “I also stole one of Smurf’s fancy candles from the living room. Smells like fake vanilla and money. Burned it earlier. Felt powerful.”

He raised an eyebrow. “She’ll notice.”

“She’ll assume it was Craig. Everything gets blamed on Craig.”

Pope let out a real breath of laughter this time—rare, low, and only for you. His hand slid up your back under your hoodie, palm warm against your skin.

You’d told him once, in that same blunt way, how you used to sit on rooftops for hours as a kid just watching families eat dinner, memorizing their routines like it was the only TV you had. He’d told you about counting every exit in every building he entered, still doing it out of habit even at the grocery store. Neither of you tried to fix the other. You just matched.

“Deran looked at me weird when I came in earlier,” you said, grinning against his neck. “Like I was gonna bite him or something,”

“You probably would if he kept staring.”

“Only a little. Just enough to keep him honest.”

Pope’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer. You wiggled until you were half on top of him, chin resting on his sternum so you could look at him properly. Your fingers started tapping again—three, two, three—against his collarbone this time.

“Brothers think you’re gonna snap one day and take us all out in our sleep,” he said, almost amused.

You shrugged. “Only if they leave dishes in the sink again. That’s a hard line.”

Pope smirked, the small crooked one that barely showed. Then he reached over and clicked off the lamp. The room went dark except for the faint glow from the street. You stayed right where you were, legs tangled with his, still tapping that quiet rhythm like it was the only music either of you needed.

“Stay,” he said. Not really a question.

“Duh.” You poked his side once. “I’ve got Kevin duty at sunrise. That seagull’s not gonna watch himself.”

Pope exhaled, the last of the day’s tension bleeding out as your weight and weird little habits settled over him. Two perfectly matched weirdos in a house full of chaos. The brothers could stay scared. The jobs could wait.

For now, it was just this—quiet, comfortable, and a little bit crazy. Exactly how you both liked it.

[goldsainz]

# JACK ABBOT — SEE YOU CLEARLY !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✶ after forgetting your backup contact lenses you must wear your glasses, shocking your attending in the process.

002. WARNINGS !

✶ reader needs contacts/glasses to see properly. reader works at the pitt but no rank specified, just that you're not an attending.

word count : 1,5k

gif from @doctorjackabbot

You’ve been wearing contacts for years.

Long enough that most people at the Pitt don’t even know you own glasses.

They sit forgotten in the side pocket of your bag, an emergency backup for twelve-hour shifts and fluorescent lights that dry your eyes out until they burn. You hate wearing them at work. They fog when you rush between rooms. They slide down your nose when you’re sweating. They make you feel younger somehow—softer.

And at the Pitt, you don’t have room for softness.

Jack Abbot notices everything about you. The way you triage with incredible efficiency. The way you steady shaking hands without making a show of it. The way you don’t flinch when someone yells.

He’s never noticed you squint.

Until today.

It happens mid-shift. A trauma rolls in, fast and loud and chaotic, and you’re at the bedside for nearly an hour straight. The air is dry. You blink too much. Your vision starts to blur at the edges. By the time you step out into the hall, your eyes are burning so badly you can barely keep them open.

You duck into the staff bathroom, hands braced on the sink.

“Not now,” you mutter.

The contacts have shifted and one is definitely torn. You recognize that scratchy, wrong sensation immediately. After washing your hands, you take them out carefully, blinking against the sting. The relief is instant—but so is the realization that hits you a second later.

You don’t have spares.

“Great,” you sigh, staring at your blurry reflection.

For a second, you consider just powering through it—squinting your way through the rest of the shift and pretending the sting in your eyes isn’t driving you insane. But you know better. You won’t last an hour like this, and the last thing you need is to misread a chart or medication label because you were too stubborn to grab your backup.

Which means leaving the safety of the bathroom.

You dry your hands slowly, take one last look at your unfocused reflection, and step back into the hallway. Without your contacts, everything feels slightly off-kilter—the lights too bright, the edges of people and gurneys a little too soft. 

You keep your gaze down as you walk toward the lockers, hoping no one stops you on the way.

When you get to the lockers it is mercifully empty. You crouch in front of your locker, fingers fumbling with the zipper of your bag until you find the hard case tucked into the side pocket. In it, wrapped in an old cleaning cloth, are your glasses.

You hesitate again before unfolding them.

They’re simple, with thin metal frames, a little too big for your face, the kind that make your eyes look wider and a touch more exposed. You slide them on and blink a few times as the world snaps back into sharp focus. The clarity is immediate, almost jarring.

There’s a small mirror on the inside of one of the lockers. You glance at yourself, head tilting slightly as you take in the difference. 

You look… different but not worse. Just less guarded somehow, like a layer you didn’t realize you were wearing has been peeled back.

You exhale slowly, straighten your shoulders, and throw the ruined contacts into a nearby trash bin, slide the glasses on, and step back into the chaos of the floor.

It takes exactly thirty seconds.

“Oh my God,” one of the nurses says dramatically. “You wear glasses?”

A couple of heads snap up from charts. Someone actually leans closer, squinting at you like they’re trying to confirm it’s really you.

Shen swivels in his chair, openly staring. “Wait, hold on. Since when have you been hiding these? This is a betrayal.”

“A betrayal?” You repeat flatly.

“Yes,” he insists. “We work twelve-hour shifts together. I thought we told each other things.”

You roll your eyes. “Can we focus on the patients instead of my face?”

“Sorry,” another nurse chimes in. “You just look… adorable.”

Adorable.

You groan. “If anyone says the word adorable again, I’m transferring departments.”

Ellis smirks at your irritation. “Noted. Adorable is off the table. We’ll workshop alternatives.”

There’s laughter. A few exaggerated double takes. Nothing malicious—just the kind of teasing that happens when something shifts in a place that rarely changes.

You try to brush past them, pretending none of this is getting to you, but the teasing follows like a wave. It isn’t cruel. It’s just new and impossible to ignore. And in a place where everything is routine and muscle memory, new stands out.

You adjust the bridge of your glasses self-consciously, wishing your face didn’t feel like it’s under a spotlight.

And then you feel it.

That shift in the air that has nothing to do with Shen or Ellis or any nurse.

You glance up almost immediately.

Jack is standing at the end of the nurses’ station with a chart half-lowered in his hand. He isn’t laughing or smirking or joining in. He’s just staring, his eyes fixed on you like he’s trying to recalibrate something he thought he understood.

His eyes drag over your face like he’s trying to recalibrate something. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“What?” You ask when you get closer, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jack doesn’t answer right away. He blinks, slow and deliberate, as if surfacing from somewhere else. “It’s just…” he trails off quietly. “I—”

His jaw flexes. You’ve seen that look before—usually right before he says something sharp or carefully controlled—but this isn’t sharp. It isn’t controlled, but instead stunned.

“You look…”

Your stomach flips despite yourself. 

“Different?” You offer, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.

His gaze softens, and the shift in it makes your pulse stutter. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Different.” A small pause stretches between you before he adds, lower, “Good different.”

The hallway noise seems to dim at the edges. Someone wolf-whistles from behind you. “Oh, he likes it.”

You feel heat climb all the way up your neck. “Can we not do this right now?”

But Jack doesn’t break eye contact, and that’s what makes it unbearable. 

Later, when the rush finally ebbs into something manageable, you find a computer at the end of the nurses’ station and start charting. The department hums around you—monitors beeping, phones ringing, Shen arguing with pharmacy over speaker—but it’s background noise now. 

Your glasses have stopped feeling foreign on your face, though you’re still hyper-aware of them every time you glance down at the screen.

You don’t notice Jack approach until the chair beside you scrapes softly against the floor.

He pulls out the chair beside you and sits—not across from you or at the next computer, but right next to you.

“You don’t wear them often,” he says after a moment, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry past the two of you.

You keep your eyes on the screen, pretending your pulse doesn’t immediately spike. “No. Contacts are easier.”

“For who?” He asks mildly.

“For me.” You huff a quiet laugh. “I get less comments about my sight—or lack thereof—this way.”

He hums at that, but he doesn’t look away. You can feel his gaze tracing over your profile, lingering at the bridge of your nose, the way the thin frames rest against your cheeks. It makes your fingers stumble over the keyboard.

“They suit you,” he says finally.

You snort softly, trying to deflect the sudden tightness in your chest. “That’s not what everyone else thinks.”

“I don’t care what everyone else thinks.”

The words land heavier than they should. You glance up at him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. He’s closer than you realized, one arm resting along the back of your chair, his knee angled slightly toward yours.

“I like seeing your eyes like this,” he continues, voice quieter now, steadier. “They look bigger.”

Your heart stumbles. “They’re the same eyes,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, holding your gaze. “But now I get to see them clearly.”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is, of how easily someone could glance over and notice the way he’s looking at you.

Your glasses slide slightly down your nose when you look back at the screen.

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches up. There’s a split second where his hand hovers, giving you time to pull away if you want to. You don’t. His fingers gently nudge the frames back into place, the touch light and careful.

It’s brief, but it lingers.

“You should wear them more,” he says quietly.

“So the entire department can keep bullying me?” You let out a small, shaky laugh. 

He almost smiles, something warm flickering in his eyes. “Let them,” he replies. “Gives me an excuse to stare.”

“You stare anyway,” you murmur before you can stop yourself, pulse ringing in your ears.

He doesn’t look embarrassed or caught. Just nods once, slow and certain.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I do.”

And the way he says it makes you think maybe the contacts weren’t the only thing that shifted today.

NOTE : wrote a little something something for my visually impaired girlies and i actually quite liked this! i’ve been trying to write my jack abbot angst fic from the poll but i’ve been struggling with it, so a little fluff will keep everyone happy (or so i hope) 🫶

[heartsiebyul]

あ ─── ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

When he’s very UNDERstanding

featuring — Ace : Leona : Floyd : Vil.

Sypnosis ── When it comes to you, everything changes. Whatever you say goes, and he is completely UNDERstanding. (headcanons!)

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀

• Ace acts like he doesn’t listen to anyone, teachers, upperclassmen, even Riddle but the moment you speak, it’s like a switch flips.

“Ace, stop it.”

“…Fine.”

He grumbles, but he immediately drops whatever mischief he was up to, your friends staring in shock at how fast he folded.

• Studying is his mortal enemy… unless you’re the one telling him to do it. He’ll whine and complain the entire time but he’s already opening his book before he even finishes arguing.

“You’re so bossy, y’know that?”

Yet he’s memorizing notes like his life depends on it.

• He tries to act cool when he casually calls out to you “Hey.” but the second you respond with a soft, “Yes, baby?”

His entire face turns red, his brain short-circuiting. “…D-don’t say it like that…” He’s done. Completely done.

• He pretends to ignore you sometimes just to keep his pride intact. But the moment you repeat yourself, softer this time,

“Ace.”

He exhales, defeated, already doing what you asked. You don’t even need to raise your voice. That’s what gets him.

• When Ace gets in trouble and is about to talk his way out of it, he will glance at you first, just for a second. If you give him that look?

He sighs, rubs the back of his neck, and admits fault. “Yeah, yeah, my bad…”

You didn’t even say anything. He just knows.

• If someone else tries to get him to do something, he refuses, they’ll fail. But the second they say, “(name) told you to do it.” He clicks his tongue, already moving.

“…Should’ve just said that from the start.”

• He will purposely push boundaries around others but with you, there’s this invisible line he never crosses.

Even while teasing, he watches your reaction closely, adjusting instantly the moment you look even slightly displeased.

• When you jokingly pet him and coo, “Who’s a good boy?”

“Obviously me.”

There’s zero hesitation. No shame. Just full acceptance that he wants that praise from you.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

• Leona is used to being the final word in any situation. His authority is unquestioned… except when it comes to you.

If you say something, it overrides everything, even his own stubborn pride.

• No one, not Ruggie, not Jack, can get him up from his naps. They’ve tried everything.

But you?

“Leona, get up.”

“…Tch.”

And just like that, he’s sitting up, eyes half-lidded, already moving because you told him to.

• Whenever Leona refuses to attend something important, everyone has learned the trick,

Get you.

You walk in, tell him once, and suddenly he’s on his feet.

He complains the whole time, dragging himself along but his arm naturally settles over your shoulder, staying close as he follows.

• Even professors have caught on. If Leona skips class, they quietly inform you instead. The next thing they know, Leona strolls in late, irritated but present.

It’s the only method that works.

• If someone else orders him around, they’ll get a glare or worse.

But when you do it, even softly

“Leona, come with me.”

He sighs, annoyed… yet already standing, towering behind you as if it was always his idea to follow.

• He will still question you out of habit.

“Why should I do it?”

But he’s already doing exactly what you asked while saying it. His actions betray him every time.

• When Leona is half-asleep and you call his name softly, his ears twitch before anything else.

A low hum leaves him as he cracks one eye open

not annoyed… just acknowledging you.

• During arguments, Leona doesn’t back down for anyone.

But with you?

He will go quiet mid-sentence if you intervene. Not because he lost,

but because you said enough.

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

• Floyd’s moods are unpredictable, dangerously so but the moment you’re around, he stabilizes in a way that surprises everyone.

Azul and Jade always make sure you’re nearby when the Lounge gets busy. You’re the only one who can keep him focused on his tasks.

• He’ll scroll lazily through food options, clearly uninterested and too lazy to cook.

“What should we eat…”

But when you pout and say, “I want your cooking”

He’s already standing up, grinning wide.

“So what does my shrimpy want, huh?”

His entire focus shifts to you instantly.

• Whatever you want becomes his new favorite thing. You don’t even need to insist, just casually say it, and he’s already doing it, excited like it was his idea all along.

• During basketball practice or games, his teammates strategically place you front and center.

Because if Floyd sees you?

He plays seriously. He wins. He behaves.

You’re basically their secret weapon.

• When you praise him or give him attention, he melts into it in his own chaotic way, clingy, playful but undeniably obedient to your voice above all others.

• When Floyd starts getting restless, his voice dropping, his smile turning sharp, everyone tenses.

But then you call him. “Floyd.”

Instantly, his expression softens into something lighter, his attention snapping to you like nothing else matters.

• He loves testing boundaries with others… but never yours.

The moment you say “no” even playfully, he pauses, then grins.

“Okay~ only ‘cause it’s you.”

• If you ever look upset, his entire mood shifts.

The playful tone disappears, replaced with something quieter, more focused.

“Who did it?”

And if you tell him to leave it alone…he listens. Barely. But he listens, for you.

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓

• Vil is someone who trusts his own judgment above all, his standards are absolute. And yet… your opinion slips past all of that effortlessly.

• You compliment a scent once, just once.

“it suits you.”

From that day forward, it becomes part of his signature. Not because he doubts himself… but because you noticed it.

• You admire a certain lipstick shade, calling it pretty. Suddenly, it appears more often in his looks.

Subtle, intentional, like a quiet acknowledgment meant only for you.

• Before any photoshoot, no matter how prepared he is, he’ll always turn to you for a final look.

“Well?”

And he genuinely waits for your approval before stepping forward, trusting your eyes as much as his own.

• Even when he already has a preference, like choosing a pink shade.

if you say “I like the red one”

he doesn’t hesitate.

He picks red.

Because if it’s what you want, then it must be the right choice.

• If you casually mention liking something on him, it becomes a recurring choice.

Not excessively, but enough that you’ll notice.

A quiet pattern meant just for you.

• If you fix something on him, his collar, his hair, a smudge.

He goes still, allowing it without a word.

There’s a quiet intimacy in that moment, in the way he lets you handle him so closely.

• When you praise him, not as a fan, but as you.

it hits deeper than any applause.

It’s the one validation he never grows immune to.

• With you, Vil doesn’t lose control, he chooses to give it.

And that makes it all the more powerful.

Author's note These are my personal headcanons lol, I can totally imagine them all like this.

[rxsehearts]

𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙏𝙊𝘽𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙊𝙉𝙀. 𝙂𝘼𝙉𝙂𝘽𝘼𝙉𝙂

#third years x fem!reader : you could only put off their confessions for so long. expecting an answer, all of the men who had confessed approach you, only for it to end up as a free for all competition to see who really is the most compatible to be in a relationship with you. (ignore header, not repost)

mdni. cws: adult content, gangbang, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, fingering, anal, blowjob, handjob, oral, cum swallowing, bukkakes, creampies, hickeys, nipple play, panty sniffing, masturbation, use of stretching spell, two dick malleus, manhandling, spanking, light crying, overstimulation, (one) picture taking, cockdrunk, sex toy, more under the cut. nav. kinktober m.list

it felt like ages since everything had started, yet it had been less than a year since your first appearance in twisted wonderland. a world so different from your own, and despite everything you’ve been through, this may of been your hardest challenge. not because you were facing yet another overblot, nor because you were being put in a deathly situation. no, rather this was one that was the hardest because of the fact that you were sure you’d be able to survive the touches of eight very different and equally powerful men all at once. it may actually of been easier to take them in a physical fight, yet the words that slipped past your lips were contrary to your negative thoughts, encouraged by the warm fluttering of your cunt. “I’d be willing to try.”

you wished you could of covered your whole being as all their eyes were fixated on you. you had gotten confessions from each of them individually and had put it off, but they wanted their answer already. there was only so long you could ignore it. they weren’t stupid, they knew that each one of the others had likely done the same—confessed. it was a coincidence they all ended up at ramshackle at the same time, or so it seemed, but at some point the arguments between them ended up nearly breaking a hole through the wall as it felt like thunder was beginning to storm in the distance. you had tried to deescalate things, yet it soon evolved from unproductive insults directed towards one another to you being the centerpiece, a proposal of just finding out right now who really would be the best fit for you.

you thought maybe they’d take you on a date each, yet you knew deep down from their lustful expressions it would never be that innocent. the moment you responded, you signed off on this death wish and embraced what would unfold. if you didn’t want to make a decision before, you’d finally be able to do one after this, all of you reasoned. sexual compatibility was a part of a relationship, and each of the men were determined to be the one that convinced you to choose them. even the normally peaceful ones like trey and cater were motivated, and the ever shut-in idia had his competitive streak mode on, it was really going to happen. “just do me a favor and be gentle… i’ve never had this many people at once.” you request, casting your gaze to the floor as embarrassment eats you alive. you couldn’t see it, but there were a few wide eyes or surprised smiles that the men gave. they were originally going to do it individually, one after the other, but if you were suggesting a free for all, that’s how they liked it. this was night raven college, a fight like this was something everyone took seriously, especially with the prize being something each of them were so individually interested in.

you had expected them to have some sort of order to it, yet you should of known better as leona makes the first move in waltzing up to you, flicking his tail as he pulls off your shirt from behind you. your nipples harden at the feeling of the cold air hitting them, leona’s fingers giving them a tweeze as one of your eyes squeezes shut, letting out a moan followed by fingers pushing into your mouth. he had a smug grin, being the one who made the first move and attempt at claiming you as his own, palming at your breasts as his erection rubbed against your ass. “leona!” your muffle cries don’t go unheard, the other men feeling their jealousy begin to claw at them as they too, join in the fray. you feel leona’s fingers disappear from your mouth as they’re yanked by vil, his own cock pressing into your side as he tilts your head to his direction, giving you a firm and heated kiss.

his tongue pushes in and prods about, distracting you from what the other men are doing, attention focused solely on him as he deepens it. he tasted sweet, his gloss staining your own lips as he pulls away, leaving you in a blurry daze to recover before your attention is pulled into another direction, this time by malleus. he was not one to lose, his own jealousy clearly taking control as the thundering storms grew louder in the background, your wet panties discarded somewhere as he pushes leona aside, the two going elbow to elbow in an attempt to fight over touching your body. malleus presses a kiss to your lips, as though attempting to rid you of vil’s taste entirely. his fingers rub at your breasts while his nails occasionally scratch leona’s hands, but never directly your flesh. “mmng..!” you moan into his mouth with pleasure, feeling hot breath fanning at your cunt as a tongue laps at it. your hands subconsciously reach down, grabbing the hair of the other fae knelt between your legs, his cold fingers spreading your thighs apart for him.

your mind buzzes, delirious with the pleasure as your eyes momentarily meet rook’s, his hand stroking his cock with his boxers pulled down, his girthy dick leaking with pre as he watches, a flushed expression on his face as he marvels at the beauty unfolding. you don’t have time to call out or do anything with him, though, not when your hands are guided to cater’s aching cock and your lips wrap around trey’s. despite the two being the oh responsible and mature third years of heartslabyul, they were far from innocent and not the type to just sit back and stay docile in this scenario. instead they seem to have teamed up, keeping you focused on them as you began stroking cater, his precum acting as a lubricant as you begin stroking at his shaft, feeling his tip press against your chest, dirtying it all the while trey completely fills your mouth, his thick cock making your cheeks bulge slightly from the size.

you don’t even see as idia pockets away your discarded panties, giving them a smell before shoving them into his jacket, making sure it was safe and secure for a later use. your pussy clenches as your legs squirm and squeeze around lilia’s head, his tongue delving deeper into you as you moan, trey’s dick hitting the back of your throat as you try your best to take it, hands never once stopping their movements as one of them is pulled away and directed towards another, rook’s, now ending up with you double fisting both cocks in one hand each. your breasts are covered in marks from being groped and tweezed, malleus’ mouth latched onto one of your nipples, suckling on it like it was his last meal, making your eyes roll.

leona’s teeth sink between the crevice of your neck, leaving bright hickeys in its wake before he pauses for a moment to spit on his fingers. his fingers trail downward, prodding at your ass causing your eyes to go wide at the feeling, unsure if your ass was prepared for the invasion as he pushes in, pumping them in and out, not at all matching lilia’s rhythm. his fingers are rough and calloused unlike lilia’s smooth tongue, roughly stretching your ass to prepare for him as you feel yourself choking against trey’s cock, overwhelmed by pleasure. you knew at the start you probably wouldn’t survive, but it hadn’t even really begun yet. you technically only had one cock in you so far, and you started this all out fight so you knew it would be awhile.

“cum.. gonna cu…!” you slur on trey’s cock as the full treatment was sending you over the edge. lilia’s tongue was so deep, your body spasming while your strength completely leaves you, the men supporting your entire weight as you cum and squirt all over lilia’s face, the stimulation hitting you hard. he doesn’t stop, instead eating you clean out, not letting a single drop go to waste. your body shudders as trey let you have a minute to breathe and catch yourself before guiding you back to his cock, the pulsating and twitching giving you a sign that he was close. you speed up your rubbing and stroking, intent on making all three men cum together at once, squeezing your eyes shut as you aim their dicks at your face, taking trey as deep down as you can as he bursts, his cum stuffing your cheeks and spewing down the back of your throat, pumping the cocks in your hand as hot ropes of cum coat your face from both rook and cater.

your throat felt sore as you swallowed it all, sticking out your tongue as he pulled out, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock. it was hard to see your expression as cum covered your face, by your own volition, but you were in ecstasy. you feel your body positioned, between vil and leona as they both take a place at your prepped holes, your nails digging into idia’s hands as he holds yours, guiding your head down to his leaking tip. it looked to be covered in cum already, his fingers trembling as his signature grin widens, his delight growing as he watches you get stuffed at both ends. leona’s slick cock pushed into your ass, stretching it in a way you’d never felt, wanting to squeeze at and claw at him with every fiber you had, but you couldn’t even focus as vil’s equally intimidating dick pushed into your sopping cunt, slipping deeper and deeper until you were squeezing him hard. leona’s cock in your ass was already making you clench, but you weren’t sure if you could relax.

“aagh.. more!” yet again you betray yourself, pleading for more. their cocks were hitting such sweet spots inside of you, making you drool and whimper as idia’s cock kisses your lips, encouraging you to lick and suck on it, your fingers going to clasp around his slender hips yet found themselves wrapped around malleus’ cocks, the top and bottom one, encouraging you to give him a handjob as well. Idia’s and malleus’ hands both press against your head on opposite sides as leona gives you ass a smack to remind you of just where he was, and how he was stretching your ass so wonderfully full as he pulls out and all the way in, causing you to choke down on idia’s cock. thankfully, idia isn’t that large that you’re full on crying and gagging, but you still feel a few tears form at the corner of your eyes as you’re fucked into his cock. vil wasn’t one to let leona, or anyone, steal his spotlight though. his cock pulled all the way out and thrusted all the way into you, causing you to moan and squeal as both men begin pounding you in their own way.

vil was not too fast, taking his time, but there was a type of strength behind each of his thrusts. you never once forgot that he was a tall and strong man, and this moreso solidified that. his makeup was slightly smudged, only slightly as he grunted under his breath while his fingers massaged circles around your hips. leona was the opposite, rough and fast as he reached deep into your ass and gave you an out of body experience—like you were seeing stars swirling above head. he was hitting so deep inside of you and making you feel like mush, both the men snarkily commenting about each others’ performance as you continue to pump malleus’ cocks, your tired arms squeezing and pumping with all you got as cum dripped from your stained cheeks onto the floor, idia’s cock buried in your sore throat.

Idia was nowhere near lasting as trey was, stammering and blabbering about how sexy this was as his cum filled your mouth with a sweet taste, presumably from his bad diet. his hair was bright pink as he pulled out with a pop, your tongue licking at and cleaning what you could at his softening length, watching him return to shirking back down after the rush of adrenaline dwindled. he seemed to be reaching into the pocket of his jacket as lilia took his place, yet you weren’t going to back down, opening your mouth to welcome the next cock. he was surprisingly bigger than idia, despite the ignihyde dorm leader being one of the taller people there, but you could never judge a book by its cover, especially with lilia’s earlier technique.

as you bob on lilia, malleus cocks grow harder and only seem to get bigger the more you stroke at him. you knew he was a dragon fae but this shouldn’t be something that existed within the realm of possibilities. both were huge and littered in scales, his cum splashing against your chest every so often as you rubbed them faster, telling yourself that you’d never get this chance again so no way you were backing down just like that. not when the pleasure was at an all time high, leona’s teeth biting into you as his cum finally shoots and fills up your ass, leaving an imprint of his hand on your reddened ass as vil comes up your used cunt as well, finally allowing himself to now that leona had. his cum was hot and slightly watery, bits trickling down your wobbly thighs as they’re supported by another set of hands, trey and rook.

“merveilleux!” rook groaned, far more vocal than the other two from before as his flush cheeks press against your neck, planting his own kisses as he pumps his cock, guiding it to your cunt. from behind, trey had taken to support you, feeling your thighs for a long time as he slowly pushed his way into your ass. it didn’t hurt, in fact, you were desperate for friction by now. your hips buckle as you encourage the two men to fuck into you already. you were desperate for more, no longer scared of being broken, or of the outcome. whatever happens happens, and until the dam breaks you were going to enjoy it, lilia’s cock stuffing your mouth as you give malleus a few more strokes, pointing the cocks between your chest and face, having both areas stained with thick globs of his cum. his cocks were still hard as could be, yet lilia encouraged him to take a quick break, soon following after him as his cum fills your mouth, wiping your face off to clean you a little before giving you a break.

sandwiched between the vices, your ankles are hooked on rook’s shoulders as he drills his cock deeper into you than before, trey’s hands now obviously caressing and touching at the flesh of your dirtied thighs with delight as he rams into your ass, reminding you that he was more than a sweet upperclassman of his dorm. “fuck.. there, please ah!” you scream in pleasure as your nipples press against rook’s own chest, feeling him give them a pinch as his eyes squeeze shut, showing you the vulnerability of his heightened pleasure. words of praise sung from his lips as he encouraged both you and trey to all cum together, to let out your passion, and you do. you follow his instructions, your pussy clenching and body spasming as your next orgasm washes through you, eyes rolled all the way back as both men cum, filling your holes up, all the cum inside of you mixing together and you could swear you could feel every single bit of it every time you moved.

it isn’t long of a break you get, cater taking front and center in your poor pussy, with him taking a seat on the lounge sofa, placing you on top of him as he helps you ride his cock. he was sure you were tired of your previous position, so he’d be the one to help you out there and let you rest a little bit. it was like some kind of spell or enchantment was lifting you effortlessly up and down as you were sure cater wasn’t, his hands posing his phone as he smushed his cheek against you, your fucked out body on display. “smile for cay-cay, ‘kay?” he tells you, as you give him a fucked out blissful smile knowing that he would only use it as his own material and not do anything else.

idia soon returned with his cock hard again, laughing a little at the sight of you so overstimulated and cockdrunk, prodding at your ass as he made his way behind you. he wasn’t one to be counted out, and although he wasn’t the greatest with his magic he was with his creations, pulling out a small vibe and attaching it to your clit, to which cater whistled at. pushing his cock in, he easily slipped into your ass, so wet and stretched that he couldn’t help but coo in awe. he’d never expected he’d get such a chance, his teeth flashing as he hesitantly left a hickey on you, feeling as though there was no way he got this lucky. he didn’t even want to come today, he was just told through a text that he traced back to be cater that he’d really want to come to ramshackle today, or else he’d miss something huge involving you. he was just happy to be included in this plan, sure that you were unaware of what cater and all the other men had planned as you were bouncing on the diamond card soldier’s hard dick.

“mm.. hah!” you were a panting mess, the vibrator sending waves of pleasure through your clit as you squirmed and clenched, body thrusting itself onto cater’s wet cock so eagerly, tongue lolled out as he gives you a kiss, telling you that you were doing a good job. it was like a blur as the vibrator’s sensations got even more powerful, a scream erupting from you as your orgasm comes out, exhausted body collapsing as the spell wears off, your body refusing to move anymore even with its assist. seeing your beautiful expression, cater bit his lip, cum coming out quicker than he hoped as idia followed suit, pulling the vibrator off of you. he would of love to seen you keep it on, but this toy was covered in your cum and he was going to keep it for himself, no way would he let anyone else have it, along with that underwear of yours’ from earlier. he just had to get some merch to go with the live concert, after all.

although you were spent, there were two more men who had patiently waited. after all, to them something like that was barely anything in the grand scheme of life. “khehehe, look at you, you look ready to fall asleep.” lilia laughed as he helps shift you to be on his lap, his hard cock pushing against your ass. it was the last stretch, and you were determined to cross that finish line as you spread your legs, encouraging malleus to come closer. you weren’t sure he would fit even with all that prep, but lilia assured you that he would. the audience were fixated, wondering if you really would survive.

it was lucky that lilia said fae had a special spell for sex, since there have been a few humans who couldn’t handle fae before. you didn’t want to know how they perfected it, yet you were thankful as the stretching spell helped reduce the pain as malleus pushed not one, but two of his cocks into your pussy at once. you’ve had countless dicks this evening, but this took the cake. three fae cocks in you at once, saliva trickling down as you were clearly fucked out in bliss, no longer able to even think. your toes curled as your breath hitched, the dragon cocks filling you to new heights, the biggest one of the day. they were extremely girthy, pulsing and throbbing with need as malleus begun pounding into you with lilia following from behind, thrusting up into you and holding you with ease, as expected of the fae. the two held you in a daze, babbling nonsense as the cocks hit your sweet spots repeatedly.

malleus licked and kissed at your body, playing with your breasts and giving you affection as he praised you for taking him. lilia was a bit rougher, playfully leaving marks on you as he bit and sucked your nipples, the squelching and smacking of skin on skin echoing throughout the room. you had done well to survive so long, you told yourself. you no longer had that senseless pride, you were done, releasing your voice and moaning loud and hard. you were fucked into bliss, and you didn’t care anymore about even bothering to cross that finish line with a pep in your step. you were barely crawling there now, not even able to move as you let the two men fuck you stupid.

it feels like hours go by, not one or two, but three orgasms ripping through you by the time both malleus and lilia have cum once, their rhythms never falling out of sync, and never once hesitating. malleus’ cocks, true to their sight, ended up filling you with so much cum that it was leaking and leaking out, with no way to actually stop. lilia’s cum filled your ass and dripped out, your body too worn out and covered in cum to even hold any more. your entire body as limp as you made it, eyes fluttering shut as your breathing labors, completely forgetting why the men had even done this in the first place.

“uhm perfect, you awake?” cater asks as you fall into sleep, the men looking at once another before looking at you. you still hadn’t decided yet who was the one you’d choose as your partner, the men arguing amongst themselves over who had pleasured you best. well, if you still couldn’t decide upon waking up, there would just have to be another free for all.

tagging: @masquerade-of-misery @hanafubukki @blessingofthestars. we’re finally done. that’s wonderful, i’m going to have a huge nap. unless… well it is november next month after all. and we all did vote that we have new characters to add on, too. let’s just hope this november is a few months or years long.

©rxsehearts. dn repost, translate or plagiarize.

[fluffshisuga]

Hiiiii!! Based off this idea by @spookynerdsthings!!

<No one on the crew understands how you and Luffy work. You do.>

They Don't Get It

Luffy x wife!reader

     The first time someone said it out loud, it was Usopp. “-I still don’t get it.” He wasn’t even being subtle. Across the deck, you sat with one leg crossed over the other, relaxed, your expression calm as you turned a page in your book. The ocean breeze caught your hair just slightly, shifting it over your shoulder. You were composed, elegant. And currently married to the biggest problem on the ship. 

     “I mean- look at her!” Usopp continued, gesturing wildly. “And look at him!”

     “Hey! I’m right here!” Came the offended shout from Luffy. “That’s my point!” From beside him, Nami sighed, though she didn’t exactly disagree. It wasn’t that anyone thought Luffy was bad. It was just…well…

     You turned another page. Luffy, meanwhile, was hanging upside down from the mast. “...How are they married?” Usopp muttered again. As if summoned by the question itself, Luffy dropped-literally- landing beside you with a heavy thud that shook the deck slightly. “Hey!” He beamed. You didn’t startle. Didn’t even look up right away. Instead, you finished your sentence, closed the book quietly, and only then tilted your head toward him. “Hello, darling.”

     The word came naturally. Easily, like it belonged there. Luffy grinned wider, if that was even possible, and immediately leaned into you- half draped over your shoulder, half invading your space with absolutely no awareness of personal boundaries. You adjusted slightly to accommodate him without complaint, one hand lifting to smooth down his hair where it had gone wild from whatever he’d been doing.

     “Whatcha doing?” He asked, peering at your book upside down. “Reading.”

     “Oh.” He paused. “...Is it about food?” You smiled faintly. “No.”

     “Okay.” He didn’t move. Didn’t leave. Just stayed there, pressed into you like that was the most natural thing in the world. And it was. Across the deck, Usopp stared. “I don’t get it,” he said again, weaker this time.

     It only got worse from there. Or better. It depended on who you asked. Luffy was loud about it; always had been. “Look! That’s my wife!” He said it to strangers. Marines. Random civilians. Anyone who would listen- and plenty who wouldn’t. You never corrected him; never shushed him. Sometimes, you’d just rest your hand lightly against his arm, expression calm, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because to you- it was.

     “You’re too good for him.” The comment came from a passing group at port, not quiet enough to be missed. Luffy didn’t react, he was busy trying to convince a vendor to give him free food. You, however, did pause. Slowly, you turned your head. Your gaze settled on the speaker- cool, unreadable, just sharp enough to make them falter. “...Am I?” You asked softly. They hesitated. “I mean- look at you, and then-” You didn’t let them finish. Your attention drifted back to Luffy, who had somehow already managed to get food and was now waving it at you triumphantly.

     Your expression softened a fraction. “He’s honest.” You spoke. The person blinked. You rose to your feet, smooth and unhurried, crossing the short distance toward him. “And he’s kind,” you added, reaching out to adjust his hat where it had slipped sideways. Luffy beamed. “And he has never once made me feel like I had to be anything but myself.” That was the end of the conversation.

     Later, back on the ship, the chaos hadn’t died down. It never did. But something shifted. Not for the crew; for him. Luffy sat unusually still-by his standards, at least- watching as you moved across the deck. Someone called your name, you answered. Someone else laughed, you smiled. And then- you faltered. It was small, so small no one else would have noticed. A pause in your step, a breath that didn’t quite settle right. Luffy, of course, noticed.

     He was beside you before you even fully stopped. “Hey,” he said, quieter than usual. You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “...Yes?” He tilted his head, studying you with a focus that felt almost too sharp for someone like him. “You’re tired.” It wasn’t a question. You hesitated, then smiled lightly. “I’m fine.” Luffy frowned. “No, you’re not.” It was simple. Certain. You exhaled softly. “...It’s nothing,” you said. Luffy didn’t move, didn’t push. He just reached out, taking your hand in his without hesitation. It was warm and steady. Grounding. “C’mere,” he said gently.

     Before you could argue, he tugged you along, pulling you away from the noise, the crew, the constant movement of the ship. Somewhere quieter-softer. The air felt different away from the others. Still loud, in its own way- the sea never stopped- but calmer all the same. You leaned back against the railing, exhaling softly. Luffy stood in front of you, watching. Not smiling this time. Just…there. “...You don’t have to do that all the time,” he said. You blinked at him. “Do what?”

     “Be okay.”

     The words hit harder than they should have. You looked at him for a long moment. Then, slowly- very slightly- you relaxed. Your shoulders lowered. Your expression softened, losing that polished edge you carried so easily in front of others. “...I know,” you said quietly. Luffy grinned again, softer now. He stepped closer, resting his forehead briefly against yours like it was instinct. “I like you the most,” he said. Just like that. No buildup. No hesitation. Your breath caught- just for a second. Then you smiled. “I would hope so,” you murmured. He laughed. And just like that, the moment shifted again- light, easy, his hand still holding yours like it had never left.

     Back on the deck, Usopp rubbed a hand over his face. “They’re weird.” He declared. “They’re perfect,” Nami corrected. Luffy’s voice rang out across the ship a second later- “HEYYY! LOOK AT MY WIFE!” You sighed softly, smiling to yourself.

     Later, when the ship had finally settled and the noise faded into something softer, you found him again. Or rather, he found you. Luffy dropped down beside you without warning, leaning into your side like he always did, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re pretty,” he said. You huffed out a quiet laugh. “You’ve mentioned.”

     “Yeah,” he nodded. Then after a beat- “But that’s not why.” You paused. “...Why what?” He tilted his head, like the answer was obvious. “Why I like you.” It was simple and certain, no hesitation whatsoever. Your expression softened- just slightly. “...I know,” you said softly. Luffy grinned, because that was enough.

[diilaurentiss]

"fuuuck baby, thaat's it... that's my pretty girl."

leon's sure this his therapy session after all the shit he saw in his latest mission, returning to the one city that haunted his mind and dreams ever since he was a rookie. but he made it this time—saved grace, found a cure for himself and sherry, earning himself a nice vacation.

now, he was fixing his fucked up mentality and relieving stress by using your sweet little pussy, watching how perfectly you bended for him on your shared bed, ringed hand clawing the sheets. he watched where you two joined, his cum from previous rounds leaking out of you as he kept thrusting and thrusting, the sounds of small burps and squelches making him feel like he's right where he belongs—in his sweet wife's cunt.

"swallowin' me so good, shit, could kill for this sight. killed for this sight, you have no idea." he felt better and energetic, more than he did in ages—thanks to the cure—and now all he wanted to do with this was, of course, fuck his wife properly.

"leonn.. fuck—gaah.. hmgh.. hnn.." you drooled and slurred his name, unable to say anything else as he pounded inside you from behind, his big and rough palms kneading, spanking and spreading your ass almost desperately. leon was desperate right now, the need to feel you and make sure he really did make it was almost tasteable with the way he fucked.

"so good sweetheart, so good, always so good," he rambled through his breathy voice, hugging your waist tight enough to pull you back into his chest. he headlocked you to keep his balance—his other hand on your stomach, feeling the way it bulged with his cock. he groaned, nuzzling your hair and scent, basically drowning himself in you.

he was so happy for once. and all he wanted to do was to share it with you. just you.

"love you so much," he grunted, breathing heavily into your temple, small and barely audible whimpers coming out from his deep voice. you're so messy and dizzy to hear it properly, but when you do, you clench. hard. enough to pull another one from him. "so much baby—haahnh... my beautiful wife—"

you bit his forearm to keep yourself from screaming, eyes crossed softly. your moans grew needier against his skin, and from the way you clenched, he knew you were right there.

"gonna cum? yeaah you gonna cum, gonna cum right on my cock." he panted, squeezing your tummy as his cold ring created a contrast on your sweaty and heated skin. you whined, and held his bicep tight enough to leave marks. though all he cared was how good that ring looked on your finger as you did.

"come on baby, i earned it didn' i?" he breathed into your ear, his plea making your eyes roll back. he reached down from your tummy, rough thumb messily circling your clit. "earned your pussy, earned to feel you cum. gonna fill you up again, yeah? i came back to you, all cured—fuck," he whimpered again, so low and deep you almost mistake it as a groan. "—'n healed. gimme my fuckin' reward."

you came from his words and delicious thrusts, trembling in his arms. his own orgasm crashed right after yours, and the force of it made him slump with you on the bed, flat on your back with stuttering hips. "shit," he breathed, kissing all over your spine, giving gentle licks and nips.

"i.. i love you too.." you mumbled, completely spent and just now regaining your ability to speak. he let out a tired and rough chuckle, turning until he was spooning you properly.

"i love you more sweetheart." he whispered.

[flutterp4p]

i need to give this man a baby

[saekochanj]

I realize something, pumpkin really love the animals in the Metkayina village,I feel like the animals even the skinwing would just cling to pumpkin @just-another-idk

[pinkapixie]

18+ their precious little sister receiving a love confession from a student… (incest/darkcon)

well! here’s what went through their heads. either this guy had titanium balls for even mustering up the courage to do something like that, or he was just insanely stupid. the same could be said for you, because why are you actually considering it? and here they thought you knew better, but with each future scenario, you just prove that you can’t do anything without them! either way, it doesn’t change the fact that they are upset with you. forget the guy for now. they are more interested in fixing whatever is wrong with you.

“o… ouch,” you sniffled, wincing from how your brother floyd’s nails dug into the fat of your thighs. you didn’t mean to upset your brothers. you loved them too much for that. but you were also too nice to turn down the guy who came to you! you hated being mean and intended to turn him down politely. but in the end, you got in trouble anyway! you closed your eyes tightly, tears pricking at the corners. you were impaled on his cock without much preparation, your walls stretched open painfully as your insides stung. he had his chest pressed against your back as he kept your thighs spread open with his hands.

“what do you think that boy would say if he saw you on your brother’s cock?” floyd asked, his smile widening with each teardrop that escaped from your eyes. “he’d probably think you're dirty… not that you aren't, ehe.”

your eyes darted upward, and there was your brother jade in the distance, silently watching you and floyd. you don’t know which was worse. being penetrated painfully or being stared at as if you were the biggest disappointment in the world. jade closed his eyes at you and shook his head with a sigh, which had your heart sinking into the depths of your stomach. at that moment, floyd sharply thrust up, ripping out a cry from your throat as you felt the tip slam against your cervix.

“ehh…” floyd blinked. “are you tightening up around me? that ain’t fair… this is supposed to be a punishment, y’know?” he slipped himself out, and you shuddered, your hole clenching around nothing. you were about to relax, but you stiffened when you felt him position himself to your ass, his tip rubbing against your puckered hole.

you could feel how floyd cruelly smiled against your earlobe. “let’s try here instead, okay?”

( 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 💌 )

[katsukiinanban]

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ Boyfriend! Geto Suguru taking care of your very silly self after you got your wisdom teeth out

“How many fingers am I holding up?” 

The first thing you see after you gained consciousness from some indistinct memories of entering the operating room for your oral surgery, was your perturbing older brother, standing far too close for your own liking and shoving three of his fingers up in front of your face. Your face quickly told of your irritation and you didn’t bother answering him. 

Cleary Satoru was an idiot as he kept on waving three of his fingers and his face morphed into a worried look, “Oh shit–Suguru yo I think she doesn’t know who I am”. Your head was still drowsy, probably an after effect kind of thing and maybe it’s just you, but it feels like you could sense your emotions stronger than it usually is. 

“Satoru, get out of her face”. Your boyfriend’s voice bounces through the spacious room and you feel your tense body eased up by the sound of him. You couldn’t see him from where you’re currently sitting, your brother being the cause of blocking the view of where your boyfriend was standing. 

“Okay but does she know me though?” 

“I do unfortunately” You glared at him, mouth full of gauze yet you could still produce some comprehensive words, it’s just a bit difficult to get the words out with the same pace you’re used to speaking with. 

“Oh there she is!” His outburst of joy was shut down by your boyfriend, reminding your very mature brother of how loud he can be and to not disturb others. “Then tell me how many fingers am I holding up” 

“three? I’m not stupid” you swat his hand away, the action satisfied Satoru even more. “Sugu” you tilt your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the man your heart craves. 

“I’m here baby”, Satoru was pushed aside by your boyfriend’s wider frame, while your brother was a tiny bit taller than him, your boyfriend’s body width and muscle mass was bigger. You reached out to him, making a grabby gesture as he approached you and stopped once his fingers were entangled with yours. He crouched down beside you therefore he could be level-headed with your sitting form, “How’re you feeling?” 

“I can think” Satoru busted a snort at your answer while your boyfriend kept on looking at you with that smitten look on his face, he hums. “But I can’t talk”, it’s true, the gauze kept on restraining you to talk freely, any more time and you might just lose your patience and let go.  

“Yeah? Does it bother you?” you nodded. “Well I’m sorry baby but you have to keep them in”. His thumbs never stopped soothing out the surface of your skin in comfort. His eyes never once strays from your face and you couldn’t help but internally cringe at the thought of your (probably) drooling face right now, you’re not sure because you couldn’t feel anything. Everything’s numb. 

“Why’re you lookin’ a’me?” you tried to untangle your right hand from his grasp, wanting to serve it as a barricade between your face and his vision, but failed miserably because Suguru was unwilling to let go. “Stoooppp” 

“What? Why’d you want me to let go?” 

“Because I don’t want you t’look” 

“Why not?” 

“Cause I probably look ugly right now”

“True that” Your brother chimes in from the corner of the room, sipping delightfully on his matcha. You were used to his remarks of course, some banters with your brother was not a rare occurrence and that wasn’t even the worst thing, in fact, that’s considerately tame if it were to be compared with the other stuff he has ever said to you (and you said to him) but again, something about after effects, something about you feeling emotions tenfold than the usual, something that shouldn’t easily upset you yet you feel your bottom lips trembled. 

Suguru notices of course and before he could stop the damage, the dam broke and the first dramatic sob came out. “you’re so mean Toru”, your brother was taken back by your tear stricken face, this was the first time his bullshit of an insult actually got through you. Satoru was flabbergasted by it, he started taking big gulps of his matcha, which was a bad idea actually, “Is that matcha you drinkin’? You called me ugly and you drinkin’ matcha in front of me?!” your sobs grew louder. 

Satoru was about to open his mouth to defend himself but quickly shut it back once he saw the glare his best friend threw at him. Right, this is why he was against his best friend dating his little sister, because there he goes being your knight in shining armor instead of being on Satoru’s side. 

“Satoru doesn’t know what he’s talking about baby, you’re always beautiful” 

“Don’t lie t’me” 

“You don’t believe me?” you shake your head. “You look absolutely pretty right now though”. Your sobs turn into little sniffles as your breath starts regulating itself. Suguru used the back of his hand to wipe both of your cheeks. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Satoru pulling out some things from the pocket of his hoodie, your eyes squinted as you tried to make out what he was holding. 

Chocolates. 

Not just any brand of chocolate, it was your favorite. 

Soon the sniffles started picking up again and you whine, “I want that too”, you point towards your brother who’s greedily inhaling the chocolate, he didn’t stop munching on it even though he knows about your very unusual and highly emotional state. He enjoys it actually, getting under your skin by not doing much. 

Suguru? He wants to bang his best friend’s head to the nearest wall. 

“I can’t feel my mouth and it hurts I think and I’m very thirsty, I want matcha too and I’m starving, I haven't–have not eaten anything, I want that chocolate too and Toru is being very mean and I’m ugly so you don’t love me anymore…please don’t break up with me…” the last sentence came out as a whimper and Suguru’s heart clenched. 

His index finger brace on your chin, "Baby please bite on the gauze. You’re gonna bleed more if you keep on talking.” He used his other hand that was holding a tissue (since when did he have one?) to wipe your drool, “See? Lots of blood”. 

“I’m hungry”

“I know I’m sorry, but I promise in a couple hours you can eat”

“A couple?!” 

“S’what the doctor said” 

“Then I can eat chocolate?”

“No, it must be liquid. Probably broth”, he noticed your deflated gaze, “Don’t cry, you’re gonna bleed again baby” 

“But I want chocolate”, you tried to argue, of course you can’t woo your doctor out of this, but perhaps your boyfriend who has never said no to you will eventually surrender. 

“Sweetheart, I’m very sorry but your puppy eyes and pouting combo won’t work today”, he stood up from his crouching position, stopping halfway once his lips grazed on your forehead before he pressed a soft kiss on it. “You’re doing so good, we’re gonna go home just a bit more, yeah? Then we can watch your favorite show” 

“And then we can have sex?” 

The straightforwardness as well as how casual you said it made the room fall into a deafening silence, Satoru–whose mouth had not stopped moving (either to chew or spout some bullshit)--finally stopped. Suguru was taken back, and then the corner of his lip tugged up and it broke into a boyish grin, a sudden rush of smug decorate his face, “Yeah, whatever my pretty baby wants”

©katsukiinanban, 2026. do not repost, plagiarize or feed my work into ai

a/n : and satoru is still in the room HAHAHA (thats what he get)

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