#// hope you like it and thank you for the patience!

[zeldalizzy]

✨ hey, listen!! ✨

@vivalaplutothedachshund here you go!! i had a lot of fun drawing and coloring the Fairies in the LU art style, though there wasn't too much to change since they already kinda fit the style already! Also, i had to include Terrence, as well as a reference to BOTW Great Fairies 🤣 Poor Hyrule just can't catch a break, but the fairies do mean well, they just wanna help him! 🩵 thanks again for your patience with this request, i hope you like it!!

[nottswitch]

Hey love!!! can I request tying Mattheo Riddle up to a chair and stripping in front of him while teasing him to the extreme just to see how desperate he is for his gf?

⋆��ৎ you strip in front of tied up mattheo because he’s been impatient all day

nav // more / mattheo

ohh i love desperate men, so i had a very enjoyable time writing this, thank you very much. hope you enjoy, and sorry it took so long (literally since september) <3

warnings: 18+ mdni, stripping, restraining, dry humping, orgasm denial, begging, kinda sub!mattheo, cursing

"babe, are you fucking kidding me?!"

mattheo looks at you with a frown as you secure his own tie around his wrists behind the back of the chair. you simply shrug in response, straightening up and walking around the chair to stand right in front of him. his bottom lip is already swollen from all the biting he’s been doing in the last few minutes, and you have the urge to bite it as well, but hold back – for now.

"shouldn’t have been so damn impatient," you murmur, your hand gently caressing mattheo’s head – a stark contrast to the sly smirk you’re currently sporting. mattheo lets out a low moan; his head has always been his weak spot, and you’re fully using it to your advantage.

"but you’re so pretty, baby," he whines when you pull away and walk back a few steps. "can’t keep my hands off you…"

"i know. but now you have to pay for it."

you’re thoroughly enjoying the way mattheo’s hungry eyes roam all over your body, taking in the tight dress that leaves very little to the imagination. he struggles against the restraint of the tie, but in vain – you made sure that it’s strong enough not to let him slip away. his cock is already rock hard, straining against his jeans, and you can clearly see that he’s aching. well, it’s only better for you.

slowly, teasingly, you slide a thin strap of your dress off your shoulder, making the fabric hang low and almost letting one of your tits spill out of it. mattheo swallows thickly, his gaze turning desperate. his eyes widen when the other strap falls off as well, and you lift up your arms to fully take the top of the dress off. you’re not wearing anything underneath – one of the reasons he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself all day, and he sure doesn’t want to start now.

"fuck, babe," he breathes out as you run your fingers over your perky nipples, wishing more than anything for it to be his hand instead. his cock throbs, and the friction of his clothes against it turns painful. "you’re a murderer. a cruel one."

you chuckle but say nothing in response. your hands squeeze around the flesh of your tits, squishing, pushing them together, and mattheo feels like he’s being tortured. a small, needy whimper escapes him, his hips lifting up a bit into the air, searching for friction, anything at all to soothe the ache between his legs. you take a few steps closer, the sway your hips wider than usual, and it’s very, very deliberate. mattheo prays to everything that is holy that they will sway on top of him soon.

"fucking gorgeous," he mutters, watching intently as your hands glide over the silkiness of your dress, pushing it down your waist and thighs to reveal your panties. it’s criminal how tiny they are, and he swears he can see a damp spot at the front. "i need to touch you, baby. please please please let me–"

he’s quickly shut up by your finger pressing against his lips. mattheo stays obediently silent as you shimmy the dress completely down and step out of it. you’re leaning over him now, supporting your weight by placing your hands on his legs. his hips desperately twitch up again, into your touch.

"patience is a virtue," you murmur as you start undoing the zipper of his jeans, your fingers brushing against his straining erection, which makes him shamelessly moan.

"i’d rather sin," he responds in a frustrated whisper. his cock jumps out of his boxers as you slide them down just enough, already crimson red and slick with precum. you look down in amusement, but your mouth starts salivating at the delicious sight – you’re not as immune to his arousal as you’re pretending to be. still, you hold back, determined to teach him a lesson.

you throw your leg over mattheo’s lap, straddling him, and his biceps flex – his muscle memory tells him he has to grab your hips, as he usually does, but his hands are still hopelessly bound. he breathes out sharply when your clothed pussy comes into contact with his cock, and he can’t keep himself from grinding up into you. you can already feel his precum staining your panties, mixing with your own juices seeping through the lace.

"you’ve always been a sinner," you say, your voice low and teasing as you start matching his movements with your own, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself. mattheo groans at the friction, so damn good that he’s surprised he hasn’t cum on the spot.

"your sinner," he answers breathlessly, his cock throbbing at every press of your pussy against it. "shit, love, please, let me fucking touch you, i swear if you don’t–"

he’s cut off again; this time, it’s your teeth sinking into that bottom lip of his you’ve been eyeing before. he hisses into your mouth – it’s his favourite mixture of pleasure and pain, and he can barely hold back from releasing right then and there, knowing you wouldn’t like that. not this time, anyway. he tries to catch your lips with his own, but it’s a futile attempt – you’re already pulling away, continuing to grind on him. the ache between his legs intensifies, and he’s on the very brink. just one more time, just one more…

just as he’s about to lose it, you stand up from his lap. he whines, again, desperate and completely undone. his cock jumps up, as if to follow you, but reaches nothing, hopelessly twitching in the air.

"babyyy," mattheo whimpers, cheeks flushed and eyes turning glassy as he takes in your smug expression and your perfect body, covered only by soaked lacy panties. "i fucking beg you, princess, i��m dying."

you hum, pretending to think, even though your mind is already made up.

"one condition."

"anything," mattheo whispers, his voice hoarse from the power of arousal taking over his whole being. "absolutely fucking anything."

"your face between my legs, for as long as i want it there."

mattheo eagerly nods, already drooling in his mind – and almost physically – at the thought of being able to finally eat you out. he’s ready to spend hours on his knees, if only it gives him the opportunity to touch you.

[maskedbyghost]

Idk if u have ever heard it , but angst simon is so "tolerate it" by Taylor Swift coded , like if you ever come to hear the song can you pls try to write a version of a one shot inspired by the song 🥹 , just a genuine request

He sits at the table, staring past the plate in front of him, as if it isn’t even there.

You placed the dish down gently, careful not to make a sound, as if the clatter might push him further away. He doesn’t look up. Just a small nod, a brief flick of his fingers as he looks back at his book and turns to another page he isn’t really reading.

You watch him for a moment, waiting—waiting for something. A word, a glance, anything to tell you that he sees you. That you’re not just part of the furniture in his life, something convenient, something tolerated.

It wasn’t always like this. Once, his eyes held warmth when they met yours, his hands reached for you even when they didn’t need to. Now, he’s just here. Breathing the same air. Existing in the same space. But so far away.

“I made your favorite,” you say with your soft voice.

Another nod. He still doesn’t look up.

Your chest tightens, fingers curling at your sides. You wish you could shake him, force him to see you. To remember. But you don’t. Because you love him.

Because love, to you, has always meant patience.

So you sit across from him, hands folded in your lap, waiting for a moment that never comes. Watching him turn another page. Watching the candlelight flicker in his distant eyes. Watching as he tolerates you.

The meal grows cold. You trace the rim of your glass with a fingertip, the silence pressing down on you like a weight. You wonder if he notices the way your hands tremble slightly, if he even registers the tightness in your voice when you finally speak again.

“Do you still love me?” The words slip out before you can stop them, fragile and small.

For the first time that evening, he hesitates. His fingers still against the page, his shoulders tense just slightly. But then, just as quickly, he exhales and turns another page.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, and it’s worse than silence. Worse than the distance.

You swallow hard, nodding even though your heart cracks in your chest. You force yourself to stand, pushing your chair back carefully. He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t reach for you.

Love had always meant patience to you.

But maybe patience had finally run out.

PART 2

---------------------------------------------

i hate angst so much. gonna go cry in the corner rn. also, thank you for your request anon, i hope you like it.

@daydreamerwoah

[grandline-fics]

Law Single red rose pleaaaase!!! 💕💕

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 984

A/N: Part of the Valentines Day Event! There's already so many requests so thank you all so much for the positive response so far. Thank you @obsessivemuch for being the first request and I hope that this is to your liking.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

The atmosphere in the island was warm and friendly, civilians held no fear of the Heart Pirates at all. From the moment they surfaced the Polar Tang and all through the day as they gathered supplies and stretched their limbs while enjoying the fresh summer air and sun that they’d greatly missed while traveling under water. Taking advantage of the hospitality of the island and its inhabitants, with there still being so much the crew had yet to see and do, they begged Law to stay an extra couple days. Trying to remain firm, Law told them they would only stay on land for the night and in the morning everyone would be allowed the day to explore or shop, using the time as they saw fit but he wouldn’t allow any longer to distract them from their journey. With bellies filled with delicious food and now everyone enjoying drinks, Law felt himself relax in his seat just happy to sit back and talk with the others while still observing his surroundings. 

As he drank slowly his eyes fell onto the table you were sat at. At first he didn’t know why a table with what was obviously a random couple having a date would capture his attention but then he realised what it was. Your body language just radiated tension. Not a shy nervousness that would show in the beginning of a relationship, or a tense anticipation that you were expecting something like a proposal. Your whole body was tense with restrained annoyance. As Law finished his drink he caught you glancing towards the clock on the wall while forcing yourself to give your date a polite nod in response to whatever it was he was saying. You were trying to gauge when you could bail on this date without seeming like the bad guy. From the way your foot idly bounced under the table when the date laughed at his own joke, it was clear you were reaching the end of your patience. Poor you, but it wasn’t his problem.

Law rose and walked to the bar to get a new drink. While he waited for it to be served he couldn't help but have his attention slowly drift back to your shipwreck of a date. From this angle he now had a clear view of your face and now he couldn’t look away, immediately drawn further into observing the interaction you were having with your date. Law watched as you opened your mouth, actually excited for the first time that he’d seen to say something in response only for your date to talk over you. Immediately your bright eyes sharpened and cooled, your jaw tightening and fingers curling into a fist against the table. Honestly, what kind of idiot had you agreed to go out with that couldn’t even pick up on your unhappiness? Were they that self-absorbed? 

His own dark gold eyes watched as your date got up from the table and headed for the restroom, Law didn’t miss the disappointment in your eyes to see he wasn’t going for the exit and smirked. Grabbing his drink he approached your table and came to a stop in front of you. You blinked and for a moment thought your date had unfortunately returned faster than you’d hoped, only to blink in surprise to see who was now in front of you. You’d heard pirates had arrived and you were familiar with this man’s face after having seen it in the papers more than enough times. You wondered if he knew that the photos and posters did not do his attractiveness justice. Deciding this intrusion was a lot more exciting than the torture that was your date you smiled at Law. “Can I help you?”

“Now that’s not fair, that was going to be my line.” Law told you with a small chuckle. “If you’re being held hostage by that guy just say the word.”

“Oh I’ve been warned against this kind of thing.” You hummed playfully. “Offers of help usually come at a price.”

“Can’t I just offer to be nice?”

“Aren't you supposed to be a pirate? Does being nice go against your code?”

“So long as the Marines don’t find out my reputation is safe.” Law explained, his smirk growing as you laughed. Honestly your date fell further and further down in his regard by the second. “So? Need my help?”

“We still haven’t discussed payment.”

“Nothing much, just a walk through the city?”

“Can’t say no to a fair exchange like that. You’ve got yourself a deal.” You conceded, sitting back in your seat. This conversation was the most fun you’d had all evening and you were curious to see what Law would do. You tilted your head when Law set his drink down and took your hand, pulling you to your feet and leading you to the door. “Really? Just walking out is your big idea?”

“I’ve had your date trapped in the restrooms since he left the table. Didn't you wonder what was taking him so long?” Law explained, grinned at your shocked expression. As a precaution he’d had his room ability activated from the second he and the crew entered the bar, just in case any of them needed to make a quick escape. When your date was away he’d shifted the large boxes from the alley outside to block the restroom doors. All Law had really needed was your say-so to continue spending time with him. He dropped his gaze down when you looped your arm through his as you both walked through the busy nighttime streets. “So where to first? You’re the local here, not me.”

“Well the city’s pretty big. I can’t exactly show you everything in one night.” You explained lightly with a smile. 

“Well aren’t you lucky? My crew and I won’t be leaving for a few days.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow

[paddockletters]

study session | charles leclerc

summary: charles misses you (not that he’d admit it), but when studying keeps you too distracted, he finds a way to steal your attention. request: yessss! thank you hope y’all like it

Charles has always been needy when it comes to you. He won’t admit it, of course, but the evidence is clear.

Like now—where he’s supposedly at your apartment to “keep you company” while you study, but in reality, he’s just here to be a menace.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, textbooks and notes spread around you, highlighter tucked between your fingers as you try to focus. Charles, meanwhile, is sprawled across your bed, bored out of his mind.

"Are you done yet?"

You don’t even look up. "No, Charles."

A beat of silence.

"How about now?"

You sigh, highlighting another sentence. "No."

Another pause. Then, he groans dramatically. "This is torture. I came all this way just to be ignored?"

"You came here on your own," you remind him, flipping a page.

"You should be grateful,” he mutters. “Most people would kill for my presence.”

"Lucky me." You snort.

You don’t have to look up to know he’s pouting. And then—silence.

Suspicious silence.

You finally glance up, only to choke on air.

Charles is standing in the middle of your room, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Go on, doctor,” Charles smirks, stretching as he leans back on his hands. "Start your examination."

You refuse to look at him. Absolutely not. You have textbooks to read, notes to review, an exam to pass.

“Charles,” you grit through clenched teeth, gripping your pen just a little too hard. “Put your shirt back on.”

“What?” He blinks, feigning innocence. "You need a realistic study session, no?"

You groan, slamming your textbook shut and covering your face with it. “You’re impossible.”

Charles just laughs and that makes your stomach flip. He’s doing this on purpose.

You peek over your book, only to find him watching you, amused. His entire posture is relaxed, like he has all the time in the world to mess with you. And he does—he always does this when he’s bored, finding new ways to distract you, tease you, get under your skin.

“So where’s my most important bone?” he teases, tilting his head as if he’s actually being helpful.

Your brain malfunctions.

“W-What?”

“My most important bone,” Charles repeats, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I assume you know where it is, no?”

Your eyes widen, and Charles’ smirk only grows as he watches your mind go straight to hell.

“You are—” you huff, trying to shove him away, but he catches your wrist, grinning.

“Careful, doctor.” He tuts playfully. “You wouldn’t want to hurt your patient, would you?”

Your patience is hanging by a thread.

“You are not my patient,” you mutter.

Charles hums, pretending to think. “But I could be. Imagine, I come in with an injury, and you have to take care of me. You’d be so gentle, no?”

You swallow hard. “You’re so annoying.”

Charles leans in way too close, looking entirely too smug for someone who’s supposed to be helping you study. “I just like being a good student. Ask me anything.”

You sigh. “Fine. What’s the largest bone in the body?”

Charles opens his mouth, then closes it. “Uhhhh—”

You smirk. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I do,” he says defensively. “It’s… the leg one.”

You roll your eyes. “The femur, dumbass.”

Charles gasps dramatically. “You’re such a mean doctor.”

“I’d be a lot nicer if you actually let me study.”

Charles grins, but before he can retort, your phone vibrates with a text.

You glance at Charles, only to find him reading over your shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the texts.

“Who’s texting you?” he asks, far too casual.

You lock your phone. “No one.”

Charles squints at you. “No one?”

“No one,” you repeat firmly.

A pause. Then—

“Is it that med student you always talk about?”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“That guy,” Charles says, crossing his arms. “The one you’re always studying with.”

You blink. “You mean Liam?”

“Oh, so his name is Liam.”

“Charles,” you say slowly, biting back a laugh. “Are you jealous?”

Charles scoffs. “No.”

You grin. “You totally are.”

“I’m not,” he insists, jaw clenching.

You lean in slightly, smirking. “Charles, you’re jealous.”

Charles avoids your gaze, muttering something in French under his breath. He’s 100% jealous.

You tilt your head playfully. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t even like Liam like that?”

Charles perks up immediately. “You don’t?”

“No,” you laugh.

Charles nods once, clearly pleased. Then, without missing a beat—

“So I’m your favorite?”

You stare. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.”

“Oh my God.”

He grins. “Just admit it, doctor. I’m your favorite patient.”

You groan, shoving him off the bed.

Charles lands with a thud, laughing as he sprawls out on your bedroom floor like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You, however, are one exasperated breath away from throwing your textbook at his stupidly perfect face.

“I’m trying to study,” you remind him, pointing at your notes as if that’ll make him take you seriously.

Charles, still lying on your floor, stretches his arms above his head, shamelessly showing off the definition in his abs. “And I’m trying to help.”

“You’re being a menace.” You roll your eyes, refusing to look.

“I like that you think I’m distracting.” He smirks.

You groan. “You’re insufferable.”

Charles props himself up on his elbows, watching you. “Come on, just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That I’m your favorite.”

You don’t answer.

Because the problem isn’t that he’s wrong.

The problem is that he’s absolutely right.

Charles has been your favorite for a long, long time. But admitting that? Giving him the satisfaction? Not happening.

“I’m not answering that,” you mumble, flipping through your notes as if your entire body isn’t burning up from his gaze.

Charles smirks, sensing your hesitation.

“Okay,” he says, getting up and stretching once more—because apparently, he needs to remind you how ridiculously good-looking he is. Then, before you can react, he plops down beside you again, way too close, his bare shoulder brushing yours.

Your breath catches.

“Let’s do a test,” Charles says suddenly, his voice dipping slightly.

You blink. “What?”

“A test,” he repeats, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that makes your heart speed up. “I’ll quiz you. If you get it wrong, you admit I’m your favorite.”

You narrow your eyes. “And if I get it right?”

Charles smirks. “Then I’ll put my shirt back on.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. It’s a trap.

Because either way, you lose.

Still, your competitive streak won’t let you back down. “Fine.”

Charles grins, shifting even closer. “Alright, doctor,” he muses. “What’s the smallest bone in the human body?”

You exhale sharply, relieved. He chose an easy one.

“The stapes,” you answer confidently.

Charles tilts his head, eyes flickering with amusement. “And where is it?”

“In the middle ear.”

“Are you sure?”

You give him a pointed look. “Yes, Charles. I’m sure.”

He laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You win this round.”

You smirk. “Shirt. On. Now.”

Charles grabs his shirt… but doesn’t move to put it on. Instead, he leans in, his voice dropping into something softer, something dangerous.

“Last chance,” he murmurs. “Are you sure you don’t want to lose?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Your entire body betrays you—the way your breath hitches, the way your fingers tighten around your notes, the way you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his mouth.

And Charles? He sees it all.

He knows.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look back at your textbook. “I think we’re done here.”

Charles chuckles, finally pulling his shirt over his head. “For now.”

He leans back on your bed, clearly satisfied with himself.

And you?

You pretend like you’re not thinking about his lips.

[skzdust]

Take From Me, Leave Nothing Left

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

This fic was an anonymous request (here)! Thank you to the requester and I hope you all like it! I had so much fun writing it teehee

Title is from "Hypnosis" by Sleep Token!

Summary: You've been texting Seonghwa all day, and when he gets home, he's about to show you how mean he can be.

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x afab Reader

Includes: overstimulation, nipple play, vibrators, dildos, gagging, needy texting, creampie, pleaseeeee practice safe sex irl!

Word count: 1.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz,

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

11:34am, Feb 02

You: Hiii Hwa Seonghwa 💕: Hello my love =) You: When are you going to be homeeeeee Seonghwa 💕: I have a full day my love Seonghwa 💕: There is much dancing to be done You: :( Seonghwa 💕: I’ll be home soon enough, I promise, darling You: You’d better Seonghwa 💕: xx

1:43pm, Feb 02

You: Can you hurry up with the dancing Seonghwa 💕: We’re dancing so fast, my love You: Please? Seonghwa 💕: Just be patient for a few more hours for me, doll You: Idk I really want your cock You: But I’ll try Seonghwa 💕: Good girl xx

3:57pm, Feb 02

You: Hwa, please, need you Seonghwa 💕: You NEED me? You: Yes, I do Seonghwa 💕: Patience is a virtue, doll You: Okay, but getting railed within an inch of my life is also a virtue Seonghwa 💕: That doesn’t make sense You: Please? Seonghwa 💕: I’ll be home soon, promise You: Okay, hurry back Seonghwa 💕: I’ll do my best, love

5:41pm, Feb 02

You: You going to be home soon? Seonghwa 💕: Wrapping things up now, shouldn’t be more than a few minutes! You: THANK GOD You: Was considering pulling out the vibrator Seonghwa 💕: Wow Seonghwa 💕: Didn’t know you were disobedient as well as needy. You: I’m not disobedient, you didn’t say anything about the vibrator :) You: What’s a girl to do when her man’s not here to fuck her? Seonghwa 💕: Just be ready for me when I’m home.

The door creaked open, and you practically jumped up from where you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on your phone. “Seonghwa!”

“Hi, baby.” He didn’t look at you, locking the door behind him and setting his bag down. “Someone’s been needy today, haven’t they?”

You swallowed, already hungry for whatever he had planned. “Yeah, I have.”

He still didn’t look at you, walking into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. “Bothering me while I’m at work.”

“I’m sorry, Hwa.”

He laughed. “Don’t lie to me, you’re not sorry.”

“I just want you.” You mumbled.

“I know.” He took a sip, finally turning around to face you. “So you’re going to get me. You’re going to get a punishment.”

“A punishment?”

“Mhm.” He tilted his head a bit. “And it was a busy day for me, so I think I deserve someone— something— to take my stress out on, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course.” You breathed.

He smiled, that big grin like sunshine. “Perfect, then, baby.” He jerked his head towards the bedroom. “Go.”

You scrambled to stand up and get to the bedroom, getting your clothes off and thrown into a pile in the corner. You laid yourself out on the bed, your lingerie giving you the extra bit of confidence you needed to feel really sexy.

Seonghwa walked into the room like the wolf who knew he had the bunny cornered. You could feel your pulse quicken.

He smiled, all teeth. “Aw, look at you, all ready for me.”

“Yeah.” You sighed.

He leaned over you, tangling his fingers in the straps crisscrossing your chest, taking a moment to admire how they looked on your skin before he yanked towards himself, pulling you up off the bed. You struggled to get your hands under you. “Hwa!”

“Sir.” He said, looking at you darkly. “You know to address me as sir. Don’t make that mistake again.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded quickly.

He let go, pushing you back onto the bed. “Hands and knees.”

You obeyed his command, getting yourself into position and looking over your shoulder.

“Fuck.” Seonghwa groaned. “So pretty.”

Your breath caught as he moved to the dresser, pulling out your collection of sex toys. He selected a big vibrator and walked back over. “You want this?”

“Yes, sir.”

He laughed, mumbling something to himself as he walked back over to you. He helped you take your lacy underwear off, throwing them aside with the rest of your clothes. You inhaled as you felt the vibrator touch your entrance. Seonghwa teased you with it for a little bit, then, without warning, shoved it inside.

Seonghwa was usually one for foreplay, teasing you till you were soaked, working you up slowly. Starting with just a finger before moving onto a bigger dildo, and then finally his cock. But it seemed today he was down to business as he switched the vibrator onto its highest setting and began to ruthlessly fuck you with it.

You made a sound that might’ve been a moan or a squeak or something in between, your arms shaking at the effort of keeping you up. Seonghwa kept on going, and he started talking. “You know, you talk a lot of game for someone who can barely stay in the position I’ve asked you to. You’d think that after all of your talk and neediness you’d be able to withstand a little more than one vibrator.”

“I can!” You moaned. “I can take it, sir.”

“Oh, can you?” He teased. “Can you take more?”

“Yes!”

He leaned over you and started to play with one of your nipples. “I’m gonna overstimulate you until you’re sobbing and begging me to stop, baby. And then I’m going to keep going.”

Your mouth dropped open in a long moan, and you arched back against him.

“Yeah? You like the sound of that?” His voice was almost soft.

“Yes.” You whined.

“Good girl.” He whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing of the vibrator.

His pace suddenly turned from fast to punishing, and his hand worked harder at your nipple, overwhelming you with stimulation. It wasn’t long until you were coming with a moan, your legs shaking.

He pulled the vibrator out and pushed you down onto your front before rolling you onto your back. His eyes surveyed your form. “Beautiful, but I need you looking a bit more debauched.”

You smiled, your mind in a bit of a post-orgasm haze. “How do you intend to do that?”

“I intend to fuck your face and your pussy at the same time.”

Your head tilted back with a groan. “Fuck, Seong-sir.” You caught yourself just in time.

He ignored your near slip-up but for a twitch of his lips. “Open your legs.”

You did., opening your mouth too.

“I would tell you you’re a good girl, but you’re just taking a punishment, so doing what’s expected of you doesn’t deserve all that much respect, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could respond, Seonghwa pushed the vibrator he’d just been fucking you with into your mouth, muffling a noise from you. The silicone had a strange, nearly bitter taste in your mouth, and you could taste yourself all over it. He repositioned himself, getting in a good place so he could start to fuck you with two fingers at the same time as he was fucking your face. Thankfully, he didn’t turn the vibrator on, but the act was dirty enough that your entire body felt like it was on fire. You shut your eyes, settling into the sensations.

He laughed, a low sound. “Fucking slut. Do you like that? Does that feel good to you?”

You nodded, moaning as he shallowly fucked your mouth.

“Of course it does.” He continued. “You would like being treated like this.”

This continued for a while, and then he went back to the drawer to retrieve more toys, this time a gag and an even bigger dildo.

He strapped the gag onto your face, pulling on it a few times to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere, and then began to fuck you with the dildo. “Look at you, taking it like a whore. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? My little fucktoy.”

You moaned as much as the gag would allow. You were starting to get overwhelmed, all of the sensations so potent. You could feel every nerve in your body so strongly, especially the ones between your legs.

You weren’t ready to start begging, yet. It was still on the positive side of strong, not quite edging into overstimulation just yet.

But it hit that point quickly when Seonghwa slid a couple of fingers in beside the dildo, stretching you even wider. You moaned a few times, pointing at the gag to show him you needed to tell him something. He paused for a moment to undo the straps.

“Sir, it’s— it’s so much— it’s too much.”

He studied your face for a moment before his mouth spread into a smile. “No, it’s not, not yet.”

You watched as he undid his belt and took off his pants and boxers, letting his cock free.

You let out a breath looking at it. Seonghwa still had to get off, and leave it to him to get you as sensitive as possible before doing so.

He lined himself up and smirked at you before pushing inside. “Fuck, slut, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”

He let both of you adjust for just a moment before starting to fuck you, his hips snapping back and forth into you. His mouth fell open as he fucked you, mumbling things in your ear. “You feel so good around me”, “such a good fucktoy”. You shivered and moaned with every degrading name and the sensations he gave you with them. He started playing with your nipples again, and your moans turned into whines. It was so overwhelming, you were so overstimulated, but it felt so good, he felt so good.

His thrusts became more erratic, more stuttering, and his hips pushed forward one last time as you felt an unmistakable warmth filling you. You loved it when he came inside, claimed you as his.

He fell limp, and you rolled onto your side, curling into him. His arms wrapped around you, and you thought if you didn’t have to, you’d never move.

But, of course, that wasn’t the case, and after a few moments Seonghwa gently kissed your hair. “Okay, baby, let’s get in the shower.”

“But ‘m cozy.” You grumbled.

“You’ll be even cozier once you’re clean.” He pulled out slowly, his cum spilling all over the sheets. “And we need clean sheets, too.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” You sighed.

“And then we can cuddle after.” He smiled.

“Yes please.” You smiled back. “Love you, Seonghwa.”

“Love you too, baby.”

[minicookiedemonx]

HEAT OF THE MOMENT

Hi my writer name is mini, I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger but lost interest. But I’m back with a bang! I hope somebody enjoys this. This is my first post to this community and I’ve enjoyed what I’ve read so far! I don’t know how to set mine up too look as cool as everyone else’s :p.

Edit credit @ myself

Summary: Fem reader POV; You cause a scene at a local bar causing Officer Gojo to escort you off the premises. The reader is alluring, seductive and teasing him with lust. Causing Officer Gojo to then lose his composure and disregard protocol.

Warnings; rough, jjksmut ,gojosatorusmut ,NFSW , outdoor sex, authority-kink, creampie, nofluff , gojosmut, gojoxfemreadersmut, hair pulling, fingering, breast sucking.

Word count; 2k

The bar was alive with chaos—laughter, shouting, the clinking of glasses—but none of it compared to the scene you were making at the center of it all. You weren't even sure how it had escalated this far, but the combination of spilled drinks, a bruised ego from the guy you'd argued with, and the bartender's exasperation had turned a fun night out into something more... memorable.

"Miss, you need to calm down," the bartender said, his patience clearly worn thin.

You rolled your eyes, leaning on the counter with a playful smirk. "I'm calm. Maybe you're the one who needs to relax. How about a drink? On the house, perhaps?"

Before the bartender could respond, the door to the bar swung open, and in strode Officer Gojo Satoru. His presence commanded attention instantly—tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing an air of authority that clashed with the cocky smirk he wore so effortlessly. His uniform fit him a little too perfectly, and his white hair, pushed back in a carefree style, gleamed under the dim lights. He slid his shades down just enough to scan the room with those piercing blue eyes.

You froze for half a second, watching as he approached with a slow, deliberate stride. The murmurs in the bar quieted as he stopped in front of you, towering over you with an air of unshakable confidence.

"Miss. Y/N," he said, his voice calm but edged with annoyance. "I heard you've been causing some trouble."

You gave him your most innocent smile, tilting your head as you looked up at him. "Trouble? That doesn't sound like me. I'm just having a little fun."

His gaze was unamused, his smirk faint but sharp. "Yeah, well, your 'fun' just earned you a call to the police. So, either you come with me quietly, or we can make this a lot more complicated."

You couldn't resist pushing your luck. "Come on, Officer. You don't really want to arrest me, do you? You've got those gorgeous eyes, that perfect jawline—wouldn't you rather stay here and let me buy you a drink?"

The bartender audibly sighed, but Gojo didn't flinch. He leaned forward just slightly, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his voice dropping lower. "Flattery doesn't work on me, sweetheart. Try again."

"Oh, but you can't blame a girl for trying," you said, your grin widening as you let your eyes linger on him just a little too long. "What about a smile? Surely I can charm a smile out of you?"

Gojo's lips twitched, but he didn't budge. Instead, he grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, his grip unyielding as he straightened up. "That's enough. Let's go."

Your grin faltered for a moment as he pulled you away from the counter, his calm yet authoritative demeanor leaving no room for argument. Still, you couldn't help yourself. "You really know how to kill the mood, you know that?"

"You'll thank me later," he replied dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm as he led you through the crowd. His hand on your wrist was firm, but not harsh, and you couldn't help but admire the way he handled you with such practiced ease.

As you were escorted out of the bar, you glanced over your shoulder, tossing a playful smile his way. "So, Officer, do you do this for all the pretty girls, or am I just special?"

He rolled his eyes, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're definitely... something."

Once outside, he released your wrist but positioned himself squarely in front of you, his imposing figure blocking your escape. His shades were now perched on top of his head, those sharp blue eyes boring into yours.

"Listen," he said, his tone serious. "I'm going to give you one chance to walk away and go home. No more scenes, no more trouble."

You crossed your arms, tilting your head with a sly smile. "What if I don't want to go home? What if I want to stay out here... with you?"

His jaw tightened, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw his confidence waver. But then his smirk returned, more smug than before. "Y/N, I've got more patience than most, but you're really pushing it."

You stepped closer, just enough to challenge him. "Or maybe you like being pushed."

His expression hardened, his voice dropping low. "This isn't a game."

"Oh, but it could be," you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, voice low and steady. "Here's the deal. You're going to calm down, and we're going to the station. No more games."

You smirked, leaning your back against the cold brick wall behind you. "Games? I think you're the one making this more serious than it has to be. I was just having fun, Officer."

He stepped closer, his broad shoulders cutting off the light and casting a shadow over you. "Fun? You think dragging me out here in the middle of my shift is fun?"

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful grin. "I didn't drag you anywhere. You came all on your own. Besides, maybe you like this more than you're willing to admit."

His blue eyes narrowed behind his shades, which now sat low on his nose. "I told you to stop pushing me."

You shrugged, unbothered. "And I told you I don't think you'll do anything about it."

That was all it took. Before you could blink, Gojo spun you around and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, pressing his body against your back with enough force to make your heart race but not enough to hurt. You could feel his member betray his non-intrested demeanor by rubbing into your ass. You could feel how deeply excited he was- even if he didn't want to admit it.

"I warned you," he said, his voice dangerously low, his breath hot against your ear. "But you just can't help yourself, can you?"

You met his gaze head-on, unflinching, your smirk still intact. "What can I say? I like seeing you lose control."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might snap. But then he pulled back abruptly, releasing your wrists and stepping away as though the mere proximity was too much. He reached into his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"You're under arrest," he said coldly, his voice hard and professional once more.

Your grin only widened as he spun you around, snapping the cuffs onto your wrists with practiced ease. "Aw, Officer, you didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me."

"Keep talking," he muttered, steering you toward his patrol car as he read you your rights.

He opened the back door and guided you inside, his touch firm but careful. As he climbed into the driver's seat and started the car, you couldn't help but notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly.

The drive to the station started in silence, the hum of the engine filling the air. But you couldn't resist.

"So, Officer Gojo," you began, your voice lilting with amusement, "is this how you spend all your nights? Arresting harmless bar patrons and pretending you're not ridiculously attractive?"

"Y/N," he warned, his eyes focused on the road, his voice tight.

"What?" you asked innocently. "I'm just making conversation. It's not my fault you've got this whole 'hot cop' thing going on. You must get this all the time."

He didn't answer, but you caught the way his jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the wheel tightened.

You leaned forward as far as the cuffs and seatbelt would allow. "You know, you're kind of cute when you're pretending to be all serious. I wonder what it would take to make you crack."

"Stop," he said through gritted teeth.

"Stop what?" you teased. "I'm just talking. It's not like I'm doing anything wrong. You wouldn't pull over just because I said you had nice eyes, would you?" Gojo ignored you and you sighed with annoyance. You weren't going to give up that easily.

"Honestly the way you pressed me against that wall back there...made me kind of hot. You know...down there?" I spread my legs open slowly, unsure if he could see me do so but regardless they opened wide.

Officer Gojo remained silent, determined to remain calm and collected.

"So hot that when I go home tonight, and I touch myself, I might just think about that to get me off," you paused for a second. "Do you like the thought of that? Me all alone in my bed, circling my clit while moaning your name," you rolled your head back onto the head rest and jokingly moaned his name, "Ohh Officer Gojo,  just saying your name makes me so wet."

That was the last straw. Without warning, Officer Gojo pulled the car to the side of the deserted road, the tires crunching against gravel as he shifted the car into park. He got out and made his way to the back door, opening it furiously, meeting your gaze with extreme frustration in his eyes.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and rough as he leaned closer towards you through the door. "I've been patient. I've been professional. But you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

You smiled, unbothered by his sudden intensity. "Maybe I just like getting under your skin. Seems like I'm pretty good at it."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before leaning closer, his face inches from yours. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're asking for?"

"Trouble?" you echoed, your voice soft and teasing. "Is that what you call this? Because I think you're the one who's in trouble, Officer."

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a moment before he closed his eyes, as if trying to collect himself. But when he opened them again, all the restraint was gone. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"Then show me," you challenged, leaning forward just enough that your lips nearly brushed his.

Officer Gojo groaned, low and guttural, before finally giving in. His lips crashed against yours with a desperation that sent a jolt of heat through your entire body. The cuffs on your wrists pressed uncomfortably against the seat, but you didn't care. His hands were on you—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as though he couldn't get enough.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough and raw.

You smiled, still breathless. "Well, at least you'll die happy."

His lips collided with yours once again, meshing together with ease, you slipped your tounge in and his eagerly fought yours for dominance. One of his hand slide down from your face and under your shirt, onto your breast, gripping it tightly before pulling back and pinching your nipple.

You moaned into his mouth as he played with your breast, the excitement building inside you began to pool onto your panties. His lips remained locked onto yours as his hand travelled south before hiking up your mini skirt, revealing your black laced thong.

He pulled back to observe you, his face flushed as he panted. "You're going to get me in so much trouble," his fingers slide over your aching core, making sure to stop and focus on your hardened bud with a few quick circles.

You eagerly bucked your hips into his hands, whimpering for more. "Fuck you're so fucking wet," he groaned, using his fingers to push your panties to the side before running his fingers between your slits again as you oozed onto his fingers.

His thumb traced your clit, sending shivers throughout the your whole body as you felt the crisp air meet your wet core. Exposed and open, the only thing you were worried about is how soon you could get Officer Gojo to fuck you.

"You're such a fucking slut," Officer Gojo panted huskily, "willing to give up your pussy just to avoid jail time," he smirked dipping a finger into you, causing a loud gasp to escape your lips. He hummed at the sound, "But if you let me fuck you like the slut you are, it might work out for you." Officer Gojo stated with a smirk, locking eyes with you.

Your head rolled back with ecstasy as you felt his fingers curl in an upward motion behind your cervix. His fingers were so fucking long and they were hitting all the right spots. You were a gasping, moaning mess, you gazed down to Gojo to see his eyes locked onto your pussy.

Watching as his fingers moved in and out of you with an urgency that signaled he was having just as much fun as you were. He looked up at your gaze, locking eyes with you.

His gaze was no longer cold and harsh, but filled with desperation and lust. He added another finger before he starting pumping into your pussy effortlessly. The cuffs were digging into your wrist behind you, it stung but you could care less- it honestly made things hotter.

He observed you as he finger fucked you into oblivion, the way his fingers curled inside you had you craving for more. You wanted him-no needed him inside you. You turned your gaze down to his crotch and saw how tight the fabric around his dick had gotten.

The sight of him made you moan out desperately, "I want you inside me, I need you to fuck me," you said, panting inbetween words. He chuckled at the sounds of your desperation, "and...why should I do that" gojo stated with a low seductive tone, slowing the pace of his fingers.

"Because I'm your dirty little slut," you say with a smirk on your face, locking eyes with him as you pull his fingers out of you and latch your mouth around them, licking them clean.

Officer Gojo groaned at the sight and quickly grabbed you out the backseat and slammed you against the car. He pressed his chest to your back as he pinned your arms on top of your lower back.

His hips bucked into your ass, aggressively grinding his harden cock against your rear end. All this foreplay had riled Officer Gojo up to the point he felt as if his cock would burst from the seams if he didn't relieve himself soon. He kissed your neck as he pulled down your skirt and panties in one swift movement.

You heard his belt unbuckled and Officer Gojo undo his zipper rapidly. You went to turn around and greet his member but he roughly pushed you against the car. "You stay right there and look pretty while I fuck the shit out of you," he sternly stated, you nodded your head like a good girl.

He bent you over before spreading your legs, you felt him line his tip up with your aching core. He slapped it against your harden clit, causing you to hiss with desperation. You were so sensitive down there, however, you couldn't help but crave for more. He teasingly slide it between your slit, back and forth slowly before plunging deep into you.

You didn't get a chance to see his dick before it entered you but by the way it filled you up told you everything you needed to know. Officer Gojo moaned loudly as he entered you, taking his time with the first few strokes. Embracing the feeling of your tight, wet pussy griping all around his cock. It was almost too much for him to handle.

He began pounding into you with no mercy, the sound of skin clapping echoed as it blended with the sounds of the crisp breeze and eerily silence of the night. Officer Gojo was unfolding right in front of you, and you couldn't help but join him- fucking him had me  ecstatic.

"Fuck your pussy is so tight baby," Officer Gojo cooed as he gazed down, watching his dick slide in and out of you. He bit his lip in admiration, " and it looks so fucking good on my dick." He slapped your ass harshly while thrashing into you, you gasped at the sudden movement but quickly became the moaning slut gojo had turned you into.

He took a handful of your hair and pulled you back, finding ways to penetrate you in ways you have never imagined. You could hear Officer Gojo attempting to restrain himself from moaning loudly, whimpers left between his parted lips. The sounds drove you absolutely insane, you didn't take him for a whimper but you were loving every second of it.

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this to you," gojo stated, slowing his flow and pumping at a slow rate. "If you weren't such a desperate, needy fucking slut, I could be home by now." You moaned quite my as he fucked you through his lecture.

"But instead you have me in the middle of nowhere, losing my mind over how fucking good your pussy feels," and just like that gojo went right back to pounding you with no mercy. He needed to feel every inch of you, better yet- he needed to fill every inch of you.

You don't know how but he found a way to fuck you faster, even rougher, at this point no noise could espace your lips as he had fucked you into another dimension and you could barely process how good his dick felt inside you. You felt a familiar knot building in your lower abdomen.

"If you keep fucking me like that, I'm going to cum," you said breathless. A light clicked in Officer Gojo, his cock twitched in response. "Go ahead baby, be a good slut and cum all over my dick as I fill your pussy up," he was also breathless, he voice slightly cracking.

He pounded roughly into you until your pussy grasp and pulsated on his cock, triggering for him to spill every drop of cum inside you. It felt good, it felt amazing cumming on top of him as he filled you up. You were convinved there was no better feeling than fucking officer gojo.

He stepped back and pulled himself out of you, tucking his member back into his underwear and redressing. You turn to look at him, your face covered with red and beads of sweat. A smirk lacing your lips,

"So officer Gojo, are you still going to arrest me?"

-

HOPE YALL ENJOYED! MORE TO COME!

[short-honey-badger]

An Unexpected Guest 3

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader , Mentioned! Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! None! Just a lot of hurt comfort! Shanks is such a good guy ❤️

Masterlist for Shamrock-> HERE

In the end, you don’t call Shanks. You don’t want him to see the mess of bruises and hickies that his twin had left behind on you. It made you feel terrible, like you were keeping this a secret from your lover, but you swore to yourself that you would tell him as soon as he made it back to your island.

You felt like a hollow shell of yourself, a ghost in your own home. You hated the sight of the guest bedroom and even the kitchen where you had let that monstrous man touch you, had leaned into it because you had thought it to be Shanks. Once the bruises on your neck cleared, you stayed out of your house as much as you could, feeling trapped inside the four walls of your home.

The same day that Shamrock had left, you’d wrapped a scarf around your neck, not wanting anyone to see the evidence that he’d left behind, and went back to the market, weaving around your neighbors and keeping your head down until you arrived at the apothecary. Inside, you’d reluctantly explained to Bethal that you’d not been as careful last time and feared getting pregnant. The old woman had given you a sympathetic look and fetched a small bag of silphium, instructing you to brew it like any regular tea but to not add any kind of sweeteners.

You’d thanked her and beat a hasty retreat back home, immediately putting your kettle on the stove and standing beside it, watching the water come to a boil. The herb is bitter, and the water is too hot, but you don’t care, not when you know there was a chance that you carried Shamrock’s spawn within you. You would not take any chances.

Later, curled up in your bed, eyes locked with the snail transponder as you debated calling Shanks once more, but you still never made a move to pick it up and dial his number. Even with you staying away from your house, trying your best to distract yourself with helping around the market, picking up odd jobs for the local seamstress and baker, the days seemed to pass by in a blur, until finally, three weeks later, you watched as the Red Force sailed into the harbor of your island.

You waited for Shanks on your front porch, chest thick with anxiety and fear. You had no idea how your dear lover would react to the news if he even knew that he had a twin brother who was out there keeping tabs on him. A disgusting twin who took even when it was not his to have. You felt ruined, destroyed, and could only hope that Shanks would still want you.

You stand from the rocking chair when you see that familiar head of shaggy red hair crest the hill that leads up to your house. You don’t have the patience to wait for him to reach you and begin to make your way down the path, throwing yourself against his chest once you are close enough.

Shanks catches you like he always has, a muscled arm wrapped around your waist as he swings you in a circle, a delighted laugh escaping him, “Miss me, sweetheart?”

You nod against the fabric of his shirt, not trusting your voice in fear of bursting into ugly tears. However, your silence must give something away, for he sits you back on your feet, arm sweeping up from your waist, and a calloused hand cupping your face sweetly. Shanks searches your face, vermilion eyes narrowing when you refuse to meet his gaze. He can tell that something is wrong and an uncomfortable feeling, making itself known.

“Baby,” he murmured, and you finally cut your eyes up to meet his own concerned ones, “What happened?”

You suck in a sharp breath, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks with reckless abandon. Startled at the sudden sight of them, Shanks scoops you up and jogs up the hill, wanting to get you out of the open. He settles in the living room, sitting on the plush couch and tucking you close to his chest, uncaring of your tears that stain his shirt. His hand rubs up and down your back, trying to bring you whatever comfort that he can.

It takes a while, but you eventually calm down, just the occasional hiccupping sob escaping your throat. Shanks gives you the time you need, brow creased in worry when you stay tucked into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t want to push you, but he needs to know what happened so that he can help you.

“Sweetheart,” he begins and frowns at the way that you tense against him. You have hardly ever been this upset before, and he hates that he was away for so long this time around when you seemed to obviously need him, “Baby, please tell me what’s going on. You know that I’ll do anything to help you.”

Finally, you pry yourself out of his chest and face him. Your eyes are bloodshot from crying, and there are dried tear tracks that make a home going down your cheeks. He lifts his hand and swipes his thumb over your cheeks, tilting his head to the side to catch your gaze, a silent support.

“I-,” you begin and then clear your throat, unsure how to even start talking about what happened. You swallow, lip trapped between your teeth, and begin with something else.

“Do you know that you have a twin brother?”

Your question has dread and a spark of rage welling up in his chest. Shanks has only met his older brother once, a year after Roger died when he had traveled to Mariejois at his old captain’s request. He’d stayed for a month, exploring the land and trying to get to know his brother, only to leave with a bad taste in his mouth. Shanks may have been born a celestial dragon, but he wanted no part in their aristocratic, disgusting ways. He was already too much of a pirate to stay there.

Shamrock has been disappointed, sneering with caustic words as he sent Shanks away, telling him that he was no different than the common filth that lived in the underground below the holy land. Shanks had shrugged, uncaring, and had left his brother behind to begin his own journey to form his own crew of hardened pirates.

There is a lump in his throat as he looks down at you, that spark of rage igniting into a wildfire that threatens to consume his very soul. He licks his lips, eyes darkening as he tries to swallow down his anger. Shanks doesn’t want to take it out on you, not when none of this was your fault.

“What did he do, _.”

The quiet demand makes that guilt inside you explode, and you begin to tell Shanks about that terrible day. You don’t skip over anything, not wanting to leave anything out in fear that omitting any details would just make all of this worse. Shanks sits still and listens, though his hand never stops rubbing comforting circles against your lower back. Your voice shakes and cracks, struggling to tell Shanks what happened near the end, but you eventually get it out, falling silent as you wait for his judgment.

Shanks had grown increasingly furious the more you spoke. His brother had taken the brightest thing in his life and had drowned it in his greed, in his vicious jealousy. He hates himself for being so transparent about you, never once taking any measure of caution to try and hide his relationship with you away. But Shanks hadn’t wanted you to think you were some dirty little secret, didn’t want you to think that he didn’t love you with his entire being. The only thing he was upset over was the fact that you hadn’t called him so that he could be here sooner.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you call me after he left?”

He doesn’t expect you to tear up again, but you do, so he lets you cry until you calm yourself once more, your voice still shaky.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that. He… marked me like I was something to be claimed. It was disgusting to look at.”

He didn’t know what had caused his brother to track you down, the emperor hardly knew the other redhead after all, but there was nothing Shamrock could say that would spare him the wrath that consumed Shanks right now. He wants to rage, sail back out into the Grand Line and track his twin down, and show him what happened when one hurt his precious people. But he couldn’t, not now, not when you needed him here.

“I’m not upset with you,” Shanks begins softly and watches with a heavy heart as your shoulders slump forward, a look of relief painting your face. He gives you a small smile, leaving forward to press his lips to your brow, “And I need you to understand that none of what happened was your fault, and that I don’t blame you for doing what you did. Not when it was the safest option.”

You feel yourself break at his words, and you want to believe him, but the guilt just continues to eat away at you. Looking back, you feel like you should have fought against him. I should have tried to run away, not just accept your situation.

“I just… let it happen, Shanks,” you whisper, voice harsh and broken, “How can you not be upset with me?”

His heart breaks further at your words, and Shanks silently swears that he will make his brother pay for what he has done to you. He swallows down his rage and pushes down the way his haki rises up in response to his emotions. The redhead didn’t need to accidentally destroy your home.

“Because I love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and cups your face in his hand, thumb gently sweeping along your jaw as he meets your eyes, “I’m not going to think of you any differently for doing what you thought best to protect yourself. Shamrock isn’t a good man, _.”

The thought of coming back to your island and finding you dead or kidnapped made Shanks feel sick with terror. He couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing you again. He swallows and leans in, lips pressing against your own in a chaste kiss.

“I’m just glad that you are alive, baby. He could have taken you with him, or worse, have killed you, and I would have never been able to see you again.”

The thought of never seeing your redhead again leaves you stricken. It would take you a while to get over what Shamrock did to you if you ever happened to get over it, but Shanks was right. Your experience with his older brother could have been so much worse. He could have taken you with force, could have made it hurt, but Shamrock hadn’t. You sniff harshly and fall forward, just wanting to feel the heat of your lover.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Shanks coos softly and wraps his arm tight around your waist. It pained him to see you like this, so broken and beaten down, but he would make sure that you healed. He would be here every step of the way, for after this, he would never be apart from you again. Before, he hadn’t wanted to ask you to leave your home, but now? Shanks isn’t sure his heart would allow him to leave you here by yourself again. Not when there was a chance that his older brother would come back.

The two of you sit there for a while, Shanks whispering sweet words of comfort that you surround yourself with. His presence is a balm against your torn feelings, and you gladly soak up the attention that Shanks gives you. The redhead is content to sit with you like this the rest of the evening if that is what you want, but you surprise him when you lift yourself up, your hands coming up to cradle his scratchy jaw.

“I don’t want to stay here anymore, Shanks,” You begin and clear your throat when your voice catches, “I don’t feel safe here, not when Shamrock could show back up.”

Shanks smiles at you, tilting his head and kissing your palm, “You read my mind, baby.”

When you blink in confusion, he explains further, “I wanted to ask you to come with me before, but I knew that you were happy here, but after this? I don't want to take any more risks with you. I can’t lose you, _.”

You shake your head, a frown on your face at the thought of losing Shanks or vice versa, “I can't lose you, either, Shanks.”

He leans in, lips pressing against your brow, his chest thick with relief. The redhead is glad that you had brought this up.

“That won't ever happen, love.”

-----

The next couple of days are spent going through your things, selling your furniture, and packing away the stuff that you couldn't go without. Shanks’ crew carried several boxes of your belongings to the Red Force, not put out at all over the fact that they would have another member on the ship with them. You had gotten to know each one of them over the years, so it had only been a matter of time before you joined them on the open seas.

It was bittersweet going through your home, but Shanks was with you every step of the way, bringing light back into your gloomy world. You don't know what you would do without him, and you would never have to find out.

On the fourth day, your house was mostly empty save for the guest bedroom. You'd refused to enter the room, and Shanks had taken one look inside and deemed it fine to leave as is. Someone else could take care of it whenever they moved into your house.

Shanks walked with you into the market and to the courthouse to turn in your deed and your key for the next person, standing with you with a smile of pride. He offered you his hand, and the two of you roamed around the town, saying goodbye to the people you knew before going to the harbor. Even though you'd never set foot on the ship, the Red Force already felt like home to you, but that could just be the redhead who hadn't strayed from your side once.

It felt surreal to stand at the bow while the men worked around you, wind whipping through your hair as you sailed away from the island that was once your home. You want to cry, to weep over the fact that you were leaving because of the actions of one man, but you shoved them down. You’d cried enough for everyone the past couple of days.

“You alright, baby?” Shanks asks from behind you, and you turn to give him a watery smile. He steps close, hand cupping your face.

“I’m okay. Just still can’t wrap my head around everything,” you admit softly and gladly tuck yourself against his side when Shanks draws you in close. He drops a kiss on top of your head.

“I’m right here with you, love. I’ve got you.”

You nod against him, believing the redhead. This was just another page in your book, but at least you had Shanks to guide you along.

-----

A week after you leave with Shanks, an unassuming ship docks in the harbor of the island. A red-haired man disembarks, loping up the hill to your house, only to stop when he finds the door wide open, people moving in and out. Shamrock takes it all in and barks a mean laugh. He knows that you have left the island, escaped with his twin most likely, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop him. No, he had gotten a taste of you, and he wanted more.

@mit-suri @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin @mfreedomstuff

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto's First Kiss Chapter 9 Update

Okay so Shoto's First Kiss Chapter 9 is almosttttt done! I've just about finished writing it out but it's gonna need hella edits, so expect it to drop next weekend or Valentine's day weekend? Thanks for your patience here all! It will be a 40-50 page chapter. There's a lot to cover!!!

Posting a snippet of Chapter 9 below as a holdover - the plot is ofc subject to change! But want you to enjoy a lil dramaaaa while you wait! :)

“Well…” Toru says nervously into the phone.

“What?” Hitoshi says blankly, turning to you for an explanation about your friend’s uneasiness with that piece of the plan.

“So. Um. Mineta didn’t volunteer to be our distraction out of the kindness of his heart.” You say awkwardly as Hitoshi’s tired eyes bore into your own. “We promised him that he’d get to kiss me in exchange for his services as bait for Mr. Vlad.”

“Damn. Offering sexual favors in exchange for services rendered? You guys are way more hardcore than I thought.” Hitoshi actually looks impressed. “So hopefully Mineta didn’t say anything about that fun little bargain to Mr. King after he got caught. Sexual Quid Pro Quo is definitely grounds for some kind of legal action or punishment.”

The blood in your veins goes cold. Shit.

“But it was his idea!” Mina shrieks through the phone’s tiny speakers. You wince at the sound. You feel shaky like you might start crying again.

“Yeah but you all agreed to it. And Mineta held up his end of the bargain. This could be really bad if the school found out about it.”

Neito mouths something angrily on the screen and the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth quirks upwards fondly.

“Neito…you’re on mute, babe.” He says in that gravely voice of his.

Monoma quickly unmutes himself and repeats what he was saying:

“But it’s only a kiss! It’s not like we promised Y/N would sleep with him or anything!” He says, gesturing wildly. His face is a bit pink in response to Hitoshi’s using such an unexpected term of endearment.

“It doesn’t matter…you still made a trade of a physical favor for a service. I don’t know what kind of punishment they’d slap you with, but this sort of thing would definitely rub the UA administration the wrong way if they found out about it. Let’s just hope Mineta didn’t say anything too incriminating. I can stop by his dorm and ask him before I got to bed, if you’d like.” Hitoshi smirks. “I think he’s afraid of me, so I’d probably be the best person to do it.”

“Could you, please?” You say in a strained voice. Hitoshi looks over and sees how pale you’ve gone, he awkwardly pats your shoulder in what he must think is a reassuring way.

“Yeah, for sure. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He retracts his hand from your shoulder and gives you a thumbs up.

“Alright. I think we’ve mostly got our story straight. Don’t mention the alcohol. Don’t mention me needing to kiss Mineta. Don’t mention Hatsume. Don’t mention Spin The Bottle. Say we wanted to throw a game night to promote unity and bonding between Classes A and B. We good?” You quickly recap, counting off your fingers as you make each statement. “Dang, that’s a lot to keep track of.”

Everyone nods to confirm that they’re aligned (Toru doesn’t say anything to indicate that she’s not aligned, so you assume she’s invisibly nodding).

A message appears at the top of your phone screen from Shoto, a tiny preview of his text reads out in a bubble:

Shoto: You doing alright?

You quickly move to swipe the bubble away, hyperaware that Hitoshi can see any message that flashes across your screen. You quickly remind yourself that it’s not weird for your classmates to check up on you -  you’re one of the party ringmasters, after all! And the message Shoto had sent was completely innocent, so…

Another message from Shoto scrolls across the screen as Toru rattles off a list of questions for Hitoshi to ask Mineta. You try to swipe the message away but you accidentally pull up the text screen over your friend’s FaceTime faces.

Shoto: This sounds awful to say, but getting to sneak away with you to the janitor’s closet almost makes getting caught worth it.  

You swipe desperately to get the text screen to disappear and after a moment succeed. Toru is still speaking, saying something about Hatsume’s drones. You throw a terrified glance at Hitoshi’s direction. He’s looking at you, violet eyes wide with shock. His eyebrows are comically far up his forehead.

Oh yeah, he definitely just got a glance at Shoto’s text.

Oh God. Now he knows.

“Alright, Hagakure.” Hitoshi quickly turns back to the screen and nods in agreement at whatever your friend is saying. His facial expression instantly falls back to neutral –his eyebrows relaxing and his eyes narrowing back to their usual lazy squint. You stare straight ahead and try to keep all of your blood from rushing to your face. You feel hot all over but in a bad way. You don’t know Hitoshi super well, but you know he’s a good person. He wouldn’t spill your biggest secret to the world, right?

Hitoshi seemingly ignores you as he continues talking into the FaceTime. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Alright, I’ll ask him all of that. I think we’re all on the same page – get a good night’s sleep everyone.”

Good nights are exchanged, and one by one your friends drop off the call. Hitoshi clicks off your phone so that the screen goes back. He slowly turns to you, his expression still uncharacteristically surprised.

His voice is as even and measured as ever when he says:

“Holy shit, Y/N. How long have you been fucking Shoto Todoroki?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HAHAHAHAA Okay so yeah that's part of Chapter 9! I'll keep plugging away and hopefully will have it your way soon! For now, here's the rest of the series to catch up on <3

Shoto's First Kiss Series so far:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 6: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

Part 7: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 7

Part 8: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

P.S. Here's the link to my 🔥Master List! 🔥 I just posted a new story feat. a super hot and mushy Touya Todoroki if you're into that sort of thing: Touya Todoroki: Sexy Uber Driver!? | Touya x Reader AU Imagine 🌶 💕

[ninguitar]

LOVE ON A WIRE.　 18. cool, no doubt. 　wc. 7OO+

❛ megan has never, ever wanted anything as bad in her life, until you—an underground singer and songwriter, is unemployed, and the textbook definition of a loser—stroll into her heart and her life. matter of fact, what happens when she accidentally replies to your thirst-traps that were a rebounding joke after a rough break-up, on twitter, and on the katseye account? ❜

the silence in the studio remained deafening, your earbuds dangling over your lap, as every few seconds, you'd play a new riff on the guitar, before scrapping it shortly after. a grunt escapes your lips, your eyebrows furrowing, as you lean against your seat. you bite your lip, your finger tapping against the desk.

your eyes scan over the already planned-out concepts for the song, the stack of papers beside you only serving to make your head pound even more. you huff out a puff of air, before muttering out curses under your breath. and momentarily, the clock strikes eight in the evening, your patience crippling at each second tick.

"you're still here?" a voice from behind you asks.

your head snaps to the door, noticing megan, and a gentle smile tugs the corners of your lips, "just for a few more minutes." you shrug, pulling out a chair for the chinese girl to sit in. brushing the stray hairs off of your forehead and pulling your earbuds off your phone, you meet megan's gaze, your eyes darting to the bag in her hand. "what's that for?"

"for you, actually," her head perks up, as she stands up for a fleeting moment, untangling the knot of the plastic bag. a giggle falls shortly from her lips, as she watches your eyes practically bulge out of its sockets, your eyebrows furrowing.

you raise your eyebrow, chuckling, "do you do this for all your writers?" and you hope—no, pray—that she would say no. you could practically feel your heart almost jump out your chest, your eyes subtly tracing the contours of her lips. a wide grin adorns your face, as you lightly pat the chinese girl's shoulder. she shakes her head, grabbing the cups of coffee and container of food out of the bag.

"just the nice ones," megan teases, and really, she means the pretty ones—which really means solely you.

heat curls at your cheeks, as you meekly nod, barely able to muster out even a single word. her eyes sparkle with amusement, the corners of her mouth quirking upward, as she lifts the lid off the trays. you softly hum, "you didn't have to do this, y'know." you spin around in your chair, leaning back.

megan shakes her head persistently, exclaiming, "no, c'mon! you paid for my coffee last time." a faux sense of annoyance washes over her face, as she squeezes your shoulder gently.

in response, you scoff playfully, "it was just coffee, and i told you specifically not to worry about it!" you cock your head to the side, rolling your eyes. in response, she sucks in her teeth dramatically, shaking her head. and finally does she stop protesting, rubbing her temples at your incessant remarks.

you chuckle, nonetheless letting the chinese girl hand you the cup of coffee, and mumbling a defeated 'thank you' under your breath. a subtle smile blooms across your face, your mind heading elsewhere—about how'd it be like to date megan. and it was only then, that you realized how much you've officially lost it. you bite your tongue, knowing that you'd somehow say something stupid if you didn't, unconsciously leaning against the chinese girl's chair.

you shift in your seat, while the ginger-headed girl inches closer to you, making you hyper-aware of every little movement she made; unfortunately for you, the closer she was, the more difficult it was to conceal how nervous you were. her fingers faintly hover over your knuckles, gently tracing over them. and it was almost as though she was magnetic because you instinctively lean in, and she does, too.

her hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you in closer. your noses were now touching, desire running through your veins. it's like heaven on earth, really, and your lips fall apart at the brush of her lips against yours.

and you're momentarily snapped out of your trance, as you hear the door click, your hands immediately flapping up to push megan lightly enough to make sure it didn't look like you two were kissing. your head snaps to the door, a curse escaping from under your breath.

shit. it was lara.

it takes you a few minutes to settle down, your breath heavy, as you collect all your belongings, frantically shoving them into your bag. in a frenzy, you mutter out an incoherent excuse, rushing out of the studio and the building itself, and leaving both megan and lara with a dumbfounded expression.

PREV.　MASTERLIST.　NEXT.

𝓽aglist (closed 46/46) :

@sed7ction @1luvkarina @ssamlovr @goofymickeyr @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @meganskiendielsbtc @fruityg0rl @fearnotfearmore @justtluvrr @meiyaes @sixflame438 @arihiu @vrtualstar @grahstumhurts @jaythegirlkisser @namojoon @saysirhc @gtfoiydlyj @catdonut657 @inybits @vivilvr @c-yerim @meizinisnumberone @blue-kye @linnnsworld @k31k0w @hazel-tanthamore22 @raviolisupremacy @cassiespoiler @weirdossclub @sunshinez4 @xochitlisbest @ratzeye @meiphobic @soobnotfound @kristalag @snoopyiz @itzkatflixs @spongebobtentacles @mirophobic @apersonwhowrites @bowforgodjihyo @mandydxndy @chuugetmesohigh @karli6

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Only for You

jace x f!twin!reader

anon request 

Summary: You and Jacaerys have been secretly meeting in the middle of the night and soon you become pregnant. You’ve been kept in your chambers to avoid prying eyes and it’s caused tension and resentment to rise between the two of you. Jacaerys comes up with a plan that will help all parties. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, cheating, breeding kink, fingering, oral(f), p in v, brief preg!reader, angst for a sec but were good!

Authors Note: i’m actually always scared to write and post for jace! -which may or may not be the reason this took me some time to get to you- also no specific timeline but they’re on dragonstone — a g a i n  im so sorry this took me so long thank you for your patience i appreciate you 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

Word Count: 3.1k

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

‘This is the last time.’ 

A phrase you’ve heard almost daily over the past year. You and Jace have always been close but about a year ago something really clicked and settled between the both of you. You both had felt the pull far longer than that but finally decided to act upon it.

Even if he denies it. 

Even if half of the nights he insinuates it. 

Tonight he has kept you waiting longer than normal so you decide to make your way to his chambers.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Jace watches as you take small steps with your candle, drawing out the act. “My betrothed is just down the hall.” he sits up a little taller as you approach, allowing himself to have an unobstructed view of you.

“Must you always bring her up before you split me open?” you sigh. “I’m the one here in your chambers.” you set the candle on his night stand. “I’m the one who you fill nightly. The one who will carry your heir.” his will is bending as it always does when you start to climb into his bed with your translucent slip. 

“I only bring her up in hopes I’ll learn restraint.” his hands wrap around your waist as he pulls you on top of him. “But how could I when you throw yourself at me?” he hums. 

“Throw myself at you?” you chuckle, leaning down allowing your hair to curtain around the both of you. “I wonder if that’s what you call it when you come into my chambers at night? Hm?” your lips ghost over his. 

“I don’t come into your chambers at night.” you lift your head up and laugh at his words. 

“Then who, pray tell, comes into my chambers at night and ruts into me saying he wants me to carry his-

“No more.” he bucks his hips and flips the both of you. “This is the last time.” the look in his eyes says everything but. 

“I’m starting to think that is just an excuse to fuck me as hard as you possibly can.” your eyes are filled with amusement. 

“You’ve never had an issue with it.” he feigns like he’s going to kiss you but goes to your neck to mark you. “Gets you soaked every time.” he smiles when he finds you lacking small clothes. “Coming in here and just serving your cunny to me.” he circles your bud and you arch into him. 

“Only for you,” you pant. “My King.” he smashes his lips to yours. 

You whimper into his mouth when you feel his cock slide through your wetness. He starts to kiss down your neck as he rocks his hips faster. “Tonight,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m going to fill you so thoroughly it’ll still be leaking out of you in a week.” you wrap your arms around his back. 

“But you take me every night.” a breathy chuckle falls from your lips. “You leave me-“ you’re cut off by a gasp as he sheathes himself in you. 

“I leave you what, sweet sister?” he snaps his hips into you harshly before stopping. “How do I leave you in your chambers every night? Hm?” he smiles watching your breasts bounce when he starts a rough pace. 

“Filled and lea-Ah, Jace, yes,” your head falls back to his pillow and he brings his mouth down to your neck as he ruts into you. 

“I leave you filled and what else? I didn’t quite catch that.” he taunts you

“Leaking.” you pant. “Jac-“ you let out a small cry when his fingers rub your bud. 

“Your little cunny is squeezing my cock so tightly. Begging just as badly for my seed as you do.” he chuckles hearing your broken whines.

“Please, please,” you hold to him tighter. 

“What do you want?” he pants, snapping his hips into you. “Tell your King what you want.” 

“Fill me, please Jacaerys, please,” you whine as your pleasure topples over the edge. “I- 

“Shh,” he slams into you when he feels you fluttering around him. “I’ll fill you up nice and good.” he groans, feeling his stomach tighten. “Fucking love your cunny.” his voice shakes. “Your cunny’s gonna carry my heir.” his thrusts are stealing what little breath you have left. 

He listens to you babble incoherently beneath him as he continues to push into you. With one last thrust he fills you as you cling against him. He continues to slowly rock his hips into you as you let out soft whimpers. 

“You’ll be swollen with my child soon.” he rests his weight on top of you and you wrap your arms tightly around him, letting your eyes close. “Even then I’ll still fill you every night. I’ll keep you hidden on this island and no one will be the wiser. I’ll keep filling you until we fill all the chambers in this Keep with heirs.” he feels himself getting worked up again and he lifts his head to look down at you. He chuckles when he sees you sound asleep. 

“Rest,” he slowly pulls out and watches as your face softly scrunches before relaxing again. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

6 months later 

You’re heavy with child and there are only a handful of people on Dragonstone who know. The maester, the midwife, your personal handmaiden, and your guard. Jace has insisted you stay within your chambers and he’ll have everything brought to you but you’ve been getting stir crazy. You can’t take another minute within these stone walls. You open your doors and your guard blocks your entrance. 

“Princess..” he sighs. 

“Then go get him. Please, I can’t do this anymore.” your voice cracks and he nods before shutting the door for you. 

You go lay back on your chaise and lovingly rub your bump. You blink up at the ceiling hoping your tears will dry by the time he comes. After the first ten minutes your tears start anew and by the time an hour passes you’re storming over to the door and ripping it open. 

“He said-

“I don’t care.” you snap, pushing past him. He goes to reach for you and your eyes go wide. “Do not put your hands on me.” you back up and the guard raises his hands alarmed. “I’m just going to walk down the hall.” you shake your head slowly backing up. 

“No. You will walk back into your chambers.” Jace's voice comes from behind you. 

“No, I won’t.” you shake your head and turn to him. “No one on this rock cares if I’m carrying a child. Let me go outside. Let me see my dragon. I just want to go to the beach and put my toes in the sand. Jace,” you look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, my King please,” you struggle to get down on your knees and he keeps trying to lift you back up. 

“Stand up. The farthest you can travel at this exact moment is to my chambers. Let’s go.” he looks down at you with a set jaw. 

“What have I done?” you hiccup and start to cry. 

“Besides interrupting my meeting, nothing.” he sighs, leading you into his chambers quickly. 

“Why must you hide me away? You never did before.” you sniffle as he helps you sit back in a chair. “Not even at night. I can’t do it. This is the last child I’ll bear if I must be hidden away for months.” you shake your head as you hot tears stream down your face. 

“You know what mother endured and-

“Everyone sees Baela is not with child. Where do you think everyone will think this babe came from? No one has seen me in ages. It’s obvious I’m either sick and within the strangers grasp or more logically, carrying a child. Is the goal to brand me as a whore and throw me to the streets?” you can’t help the hot tears that start to pour down your cheeks once more. 

“No.” he sighs and pulls you into his arms. “Come sit with me.” he pulls you over to the couch. 

“I’m sick of sitting. I’m sick of this stone.” you pace around his chambers. “Jacaerys I can’t.” you shake your head. “I’d soon rather fling myself fro-

“Enough.” he stands and grabs your arms. “My Gods I have good news. I’ve been campaigning the past six months for this.” he shakes his head looking up at the ceiling. “The councilors are well aware of your absence as is the entirety of the people on this rock.” you shift on your feet. “Can you please sit.” he rests his hand on your bump. 

“I won’t.” you shake your head. 

“It would serve you well to listen to your husband.” you glare at him and pull yourself from his arms. 

“If you think I’ll be your second wife you’re out of your fucking mind. I’m worth more. I’ll take your heir and flee.” you shake your head feeling more anger rise than sadness and you welcome the reprieve. “No.” you shake your head and walk to the door. 

You clench your fists as you approach the door and ignore his heavy footsteps. He grabs your arm and you try to yank yourself away but he tightens his grip. He turns you towards him and you try to push him back but he wraps both around you. 

“Stop being stubborn and listen to me.” he grunts as you continue to try and wiggle out of his arms. “Baela is going back to Driftmark.” he breathes out a sigh of relief when you stop squirming. 

“Why?” you pull back and search his eyes. 

“She’s been betrothed to Alyn to secure an alliance and ensure Driftmarks continued loyalty. She learned a great deal growing up there with Rhaenys.” you scrunch your brows. “They’re well aware of the situation you and I are in. Everyone is..” his words soft. 

“Then why have I been kept locked in my chambers?” you step back. “Gods.. Baela probably hates me now. I am your whore and everyone knows that.” he watches your face crumble and he pulls you against him. “Two bastards having a bastard. How fitting.” you sob into his chest. 

“Enough of this.” he tilts your head back so he can look upon your tear stained face. “We’ll marry right now if it pleases you.” he nods. 

“Really?” you sniffle. “And I can walk about the halls?” you start to smile as he nods. “Just me, you, and the maester?” he nods again. “Okay.” he cups your cheeks. 

“Okay.” he presses his lips to yours and leads you out of his chambers. 

He interlaces your fingers and starts to lead you to the door. You have a small smile spread across your features as you lean into him as he opens the door for you. You step into the hall and he’s back at your side and leading you down the stairs. Everything looks the same and different all at once but the sounds of life and others keep driving you forward. 

When you both round the corner everyone stops and smiles at you as Jace continues to escort you past them. You spot Baela and your heart drops as she starts to walk up to you. You freeze when she engulfs you in a hug. You start to cry when she whispers that she loves you and that she’s quite happy to marry Alyn. She also expressed how happy she is that Jace has finally released you from your chambers. 

Baela walks with you both to the maester to be the witness for your small ceremony and you couldn’t be more content. The words you both exchange are hushed and full of adoration. Jace places his lips softly on yours and kneels down to press his lips to your bump. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

2 months after birth

Jacaerys walks into your shared chambers and is greeted by the crackle of wood burning in the hearth. He finds you asleep and the crib empty. Your son must be with your handmaidens so you can find some sleep. He slowly starts to strip off his clothes from the day and begins to crawl into bed with you. You slowly turn over and blink your eyes open. 

“I wanted to be awake when you got back.” you yawn and bury your head into his neck. 

“You are.” he chuckles, smoothing your hair. 

“No like awake awake.” you shake your head. “I wanted to surprise you.” you press your lips against his neck. 

“Surprise me with what?” he tries to pull you on top of him but you’re having none of it. 

“Go to the bathing chambers and I’ll call you out when I’m ready.” you start to rise from the bed and he lets his eyes trail over your body. “Jacaerys.” he smiles before stalking off behind the doors. 

You run over to your wardrobe and pull out the new silk slip you had made and pull it on. You smooth it over your body and make your way to your vanity to tame your unruly hair. Once you’re satisfied you walk over to the bed and move the blankets before settling yourself in the center of the bed and nibbling your lip as you call out for Jace. 

“My Gods.” he groans and he looks at you placed in the center of the bed. “I like this surprise.” he stands at the end of the bed and lets his eyes linger anywhere and everywhere. 

“I’d like to have another.” you watch his eyes snap up to yours. 

“What do you mean?” he rasps. 

“A child.” you slowly start to spread your thighs. “Please.” you whisper. “Please.” you reach out for him. 

“You didn’t think I would be content with just one, did you?” he smirks. “I’ll keep you swollen with my seed until we have a whole floor filled with children.” he chuckles at your flush. “I was just waiting for you to tell me you were ready.” he tugs your leg, pulling you to the end of the bed and your slip up in the process. 

You squeak as your hips reach the end of the bed and he kneels before you. You look down at the same time he licks up your slit. He smiles watching your head fall back to the bed as he begins to feast upon you. His lips encase your bud and your hand flies to his curls. 

“Jace, please,” you whimper, pulling him closer. “Oh Gods,” you gasp, bucking against his face. 

He groans into you and your soft noises and licks at you feverishly. Your legs begin to shake and close around his head and when he slips two fingers into you you let out a small scream. His fingers pump into you quickly and he smiles as your pleasure starts to leak out of you. With a couple more swirls of his tongue you're falling apart on his face. 

“You’re so perfect, my wife.” he slowly stands up from the ground and watches your chest heave. 

He lifts you up the bed and settles between your legs while he smashes his lips to yours. He starts to rock his hips into yours groaning as his cock slips through your wetness before he pulls your slip the rest of the way off. He leans back to line himself up and he watches your face as she slowly pushes in. His forehead rests against yours and he stills his hips. 

“Please move.” you gasp, squeezing around him. 

“I just wanna be close to you right now.” he presses his lips to your neck as he slowly rolls his hips. “I love you so much.” he mumbles before sucking softly at your neck. 

“I love you.” you wrap your arms around him, letting out soft gasps and whines as he starts to move his hips a little faster. 

“Are you sure you’re ready to carry another child?” he lifts up and searches your eyes. “If you want more time-

“Yes, please yes,” you nod your head. “Please Jacaerys. Let me give you more children.” you start to jerk your hips up to his. Your words cause him to start pushing into you with more of a purpose. You wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to suckle at your neck. “Jace,” you gasp when he snaps his hips into you. 

“What do you want?” he smirks against your neck, feeling you squeeze around him. 

“I want- Mm,” he leans up and starts pounding into you. “I.. Jace, please.” you cling against him as he repeatedly snaps his hips.

“You have to tell me what you want.” he brings one of his hands between the both of you to circle your bud. You pulse around him and he presses his forehead to yours. “Your cunny knows what it wants.” he chuckles. “It’s begging to be filled. Squeezing my cock so tightly.” he rasps. 

“Please,” you whine as your pleasure is never ending. “Fill me, Gods Jacaer-“ a shutter rolls through your body. “Please, please,” he groans, watching your eyes roll back. 

“Shh, shh,” he presses you into the mattress. “Gods you feel so fucking good.” he slams into you repeatedly. 

He watches you slide against the mattress as starts to hammer into you. He feels his pleasure quickly approaching as you babble beneath him. His lips mold to yours and he swallows down all of your moans and he starts to fill you. He keeps slowly rocking his hips listening to your soft pleas as you hold him closer. 

“Stay inside.” you breathe out. “Just- yes.” you hold him as he collapses on top of you. “Like this.” your hands travel up to his hair as he cuddles into you. “Thank you.” you let your eyes flutter shut. 

“I’ll fill you again when we wake up.” he mumbles, pressing his lips against your neck. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

i thought abt jace w a breeding kink everyday since i got this anon tbh

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething

[servndipityz]

Namgyu but him being the normal middle schooler way hurts you? Or something like that idk you’re the only one I’ve seen write him so accurately

nam-gyu getting the silent treatment from the reader? his little brain would actually start to short circuit he’d get so grumpy lmao

a/n ── hey! i decided to mix these two anons since i thought they'd make a really good fic together, hope u don't mind :) thank you so much for your requests and your patience, ik this one took a while. i hope u both like it!

SNAP

warnings ── blood, death, general squid game themes

word count ── 2.4k

────────────────────────────────────────────

silence.

silence was all that filled the air as you descended the stairs, walking in line back to the dorm room. you were surrounded by more than a hundred players, but nobody spoke. nobody dared.

the last game had been a bloodbath, to say the least. you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget the lifeless eyes of innocent players lying on the ground—especially knowing it could have just as easily been you.

and it had been damn close.

you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him a few steps behind you. nam-gyu.

you’d thought you could tolerate him. the way he talked over you, the way he always had to have the last word, the way he threw whatever was at hand just to get on your nerves. annoying as fuck, but bearable.

this time, he'd pushed too far.

from the moment mingle had begun, your heart had already been racing. hell, you could still feel it hammering in your chest at an abnormally high rate. but that wasn’t enough for him, was it? no, nam-gyu, who had taken whatever shit drug thanos had given him, had stood by your side.

that was normal, you'd come to realize. you didn't understand why, but somehow, after swearing he hated you, he'd always end up next to you.

so, while the damn carousel was spinning, he'd leaned in, voice just low enough for only you to hear. maybe he'd taken pity on you. maybe he'd seen how scared you looked. you cursed yourself for ever even thinking that.

"you sure you got this? you look kinda nervous…" he said, a small smile forming on his lips as you turned to him. "what if you freeze up? or what if nobody picks you? that’d be bad."

"shut up," you muttered, looking away, narrowing your eyes—ignoring the cold, sweaty goosebump crawling over your skin. it had sounded more like a plea than a demand.

"and what if you end up alone?" he went on, completely ignoring you, inching closer—if that was even possible. "you’d just be standing there while everyone rushes away—tick, tock, tick, tock…"

that was when the nausea hit. real nausea. he was just messing with you… like he always did. but what if?

when the first number was called and the game started, you managed to get through a couple of rounds, your eyes filling with tears from pure nerves.

then, one of the last rounds. the voice called out 3. you looked at nam-gyu and thanos in front of you, thinking—just thinking—that you were saved.

you rushed to them, just as nam-gyu took a step back.

"actually, i think i see a better option over there," he said, pointing at a random player.

your soul hit the floor. he was actually going to leave you behind. you were going to die.

panic took over, tears slipping down your face as you frantically looked around for someone, anyone, to save you.

"tick, tock, tick, tock..." nam-gyu’s voice echoed in your head.

then—someone yanked you by the arm, shoving you into the nearest room.

you gasped for breath, your chest heaving. you were alive. you hadn't died.

nam-gyu snickered in front of you. thanos, also in the room, stood by the little window, uninterested in whatever had just happened between you two.

"what—" was all you managed, quiet sobs escaping your lips as you struggled to process it. you were alive. somehow, you were alive.

"you actually thought i was gonna leave you?" nam-gyu giggled. giggled. he had his hand over his mouth like it was the funniest thing in the world. "that’s crazy."

you shook your head as a tear threatened to spill, breathing in through your nose to steady yourself. the memory of what had happened less than an hour ago burned in your mind.

ha wasn't just mean and annoying. nam-gyu was cruel. nam-gyu was evil.

you'd judged him wrong. he wasn’t just a boy hiding his fear behind teasing. he wasn’t someone you could ever grow to love under different circumstances. he wasn’t misunderstood. all those thoughts you’d had before? wrong. they had to be. he was heartless. and you hated him.

as you stepped into the main room, your heart eased—just a little—when you spotted se-mi. without thinking, you quickened your pace toward her.

she did the same, meeting you halfway and grabbing you by the arms. “thank god you’re okay,” she said, eyes scanning your disheveled state.

you inhaled sharply, nodding, even as the words caught in your throat. she tilted her head, concern deepening in her expression.

“is everything—?” she started, but before she could finish, another voice cut in.

“wassup, team?” thanos said, strolling over and throwing up gang signs he probably didn’t even know the meaning of.

but of course, he wasn’t alone.

you felt it immediately—nam-gyu’s presence behind you. close. so close that if you moved even an inch, you’d collide into him. but still, never touching.

“we almost thought we were gonna die back there, huh?” nam-gyu said, still amused, his gaze lingering on you.

you turned to him. fuming.

so many thoughts ran through your head. so many things to say. so many bones to break. you opened your mouth—

and then shut it. no. you didn’t want to see him again. didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. but since you were stuck in these fucking games together, you couldn’t exactly avoid him.

so you’d do the next best thing.

act like he didn’t exist. because to you, he didn't.

you could see it in his face, his grin starting to form, waiting for you to say something, to take the bait like you always did. but not this time. you just shot him a grimace, turning and walking awat toward the bathroom.

and so, time went on.

but not for him.

nam-gyu wasn’t used to silence. not from you. not like this.

at first, he barely noticed. he was still riding the high of his own amusement, watching you seethe in barely restrained anger. but the longer the minutes stretched, the longer you refused to bite back, the more something began to gnaw at him.

it started with the little things. the way you didn’t even look his way when he made some stupid remark at dinner, or how you barely reacted when thanos made a joke about his survival skills. before, you would’ve rolled your eyes, shot some sarcastic comment back, but now—nothing. not even a twitch of annoyance.

the way you turned your back to him, like he wasn’t even in the room, like he wasn’t even worth acknowledging—it set something off in him. something uncomfortable. something he didn’t want to name.

he tried again later, when almost a day had passed. sitting on the stairs of the beds, staring at nothing, your hands gripping your knees like if you let go, you’d shatter. he sat down beside you, close enough to invade your space, to test you.

"so, what, you mad at me or something?" he asked, voice deliberately light, teasing, waiting for you to react.

nothing.

his fingers drummed against the metal. "c’mon. you can’t seriously be mad. it was a joke. i knew someone would pick you up." he turned his head toward you, watching for a flinch, a flicker—anything. "you really think i’d let you die?"

still, nothing.

you just stood up, walking away like he hadn’t even spoken. like he was air.

his jaw clenched. fine. two could play this game.

except—you didn’t break. not that night. not the next day. not the next game. not even when he upped his antics, when he threw crumpled-up paper at the back of your head or made offhanded comments just loud enough for you to hear.

it was driving him insane.

he never realized how much he thrived off your back-and-forth until it was gone. until you treated him like a ghost.

until he realized—he didn’t like being invisible to you.

the next night, the dorm was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only came when exhaustion weighed too heavy on everyone’s bones. nam-gyu lay on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, restless.

fuck it.

before he could second-guess himself, he was already moving, slipping off his mattress with the kind of ease that came from knowing how to sneak around. his feet barely made a sound against the cold floor as he crept across the room, stopping just short of your bed. he hesitated for a second—just a second—before sitting down at your feet.

you shot up immediately, eyes wide, breath hitching. "what the—" the words died in your throat as you jerked back against the pillow, your hands bracing against the sheets. for a split second, you were ready to shove him off, to kick him away—

but then his hand was over your mouth, and his face was inches from yours.

"shh." his eyes flickered to the other beds, scanning for movement. none. he exhaled, slow and careful, before pulling his hand back. "relax, okay? i just—"

he trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. he just what? wanted to bother you? wanted to win? no, that wasn’t it. the truth was a little more pathetic than that. he just missed hearing your voice, even if it was yelling at him.

he shifted, sitting cross-legged now, knee brushing against yours. you had pulled yourself up too, back pressed against the headboard, muscles tense. you were still watching him like he might pull something, but there was something else there too. wariness, sure. but curiosity too.

"you just what?" you repeated, voice still laced with annoyance, but softer now. almost… wary.

he swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close you two were, your eyes on him in a way that made his heart pound annoyingly fast. "i dunno," he muttered. "wanted to see if you were still alive."

"seriously?" you scoffed. "get out."

but you didn’t push him away. and he didn’t move.

"nam-gyu, i swear to god—"

"you really hate me that much, huh?" he interrupted, his voice quieter now. the teasing was still there, but barely. something more vulnerable lurked beneath it, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront. "like, actually?"

silence. you looked at him then, and for the first time in days, he saw something other than anger in your eyes. something conflicted. something dangerous.

"you tell me," you whispered, your breath fanning against his cheek. your fingers twitched, like you were resisting the urge to shove him away—or pull him closer.

his throat went dry. he wanted to say something. something cocky, something that would shift the power back into his hands. but all he could think about was how your lips were barely inches from his, how your warmth seeped into him like a slow burn, and how he wasn’t nearly as immune to you as he thought.

you were waiting for an answer, your gaze piercing into his, but he had none. not one that wouldn’t make him look stupid, anyway. he wanted to scoff, to roll his eyes and tell you to lighten up, but he couldn’t—not when his own heartbeat was betraying him.

you pulled back first, sitting up straighter, arms crossing over your chest. "forget it," you muttered, shaking your head. "i don’t even care."

hut he couldn’t be invisible to you. he wouldn’t.

because you did care. he knew you did. he could see it in the way your hands clenched, the way your knee bounced slightly, the way you were holding back from looking at him. you cared enough to be mad, enough to hate him, enough to freeze him out.

"yeah?" he said, leaning in slightly—but this time, there was no smirk, no game. "then why do you look like you’re about to cry?"

that was it. that was the final fucking straw.

something in you cracked wide open, all the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface before you could shove it down again.

“you always do this,” you hissed, your voice low. “you push and push and push, and when i finally break, it’s just a joke. when i get mad, I’m overreacting. when i tell you to stop, you just push harder.”

his stomach twisted. you weren’t just lashing out. you were breaking apart.

“you’ve been messing with me since the second we met,” you went on, voice rising, not caring if anyone heard. “every fucking day, it’s something new. tripping me, throwing things at me, talking over me, getting in my face. it’s exhausting. and i let it go because i thought—” you cut yourself off, jaw clenching, forcing yourself to breathe. “i thought maybe you didn’t mean it.”

nam-gyu stayed quiet. just staring. no teasing grin, no cocky remark. just… watching.

“but you do mean it,” you whispered. "because you think it’s funny. because you like seeing me mad. because it doesn’t matter if i’m actually hurt, as long as you get a reaction." you shook your head, voice unsteady. "and i’m done."

nam-gyu’s chest tightened. his hands clenched in his lap. he wanted to argue. he wanted to tell you that you were wrong. but he couldn’t—not when you were looking at him like that. not when he knew, deep down, that you weren’t wrong at all.

"I’m sorry."

the words came out so quiet, so unnatural in his own voice, that for a second, he wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken them.

you froze.

his lips pressed together like he immediately regretted saying it, but there was no taking it back now. his hand twitched in his lap, like he wanted to reach for something but didn’t know what.

"you—what?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but you. "don’t make me say it again," he muttered.

a beat of silence.

then—a laugh. small, quiet, barely there. but real.

it startled both of you.

nam-gyu’s head snapped up, watching as you bit your lip, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe it. "you suck at apologizing," you said, still exhausted, tired.

his lips twitched. "yeah, well. not much practice."

"clearly."

another pause. this time, the silence was lighter. not quite peace, but not war either.

nam-gyu let out a dramatic sigh, sitting back onto the mattress. "so," he drawled, hands fidgeting with a loose strang of your bedsheet. "am i still dead to you, or…?""

you rolled your eyes, relaxing but keeping your distance. "we’ll see."

"uh-huh. that’s progress."

"shut up."

"make me."

he knew he wasn't just sorry, no, he knew it was much deeper than that. but that was all he would allow himself to say. for now.

and just like that, maybe he wasn't that evil.

────────────────────────────────────────────

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[rootedinrevisions]

Hard Shell, Soft Heart

SUMMARY: Scott Miller has a reputation. He's tough, no-nonsense, and all business when it comes to storm chasing. But when the season winds down and his team finds themselves stranded without a place to stay, Scott shocks everyone by inviting them to his home just north of the Missouri border. What they don’t expect is the man he turns into when he's home - a devoted husband, soon-to-be father, and complete softie for his wife. As the team settles in for the night, they witness a side of Scott they never imagined, proving that even the hardest shells can hold the softest hearts.

WARNING: None. This one's pretty fluffy.

A/N: Thank you to @h-ngm-nssluttt for sending in the request for this! I really hope you enjoy it and I appreciate your patience and udnerstanding as I know it's taken a while for me to get it finished!

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

TAGS: I just realized I don't have a tag list for Scott. I have one for Tyler, Javi, and Boone. So feel free if you'd like to be tagged in any future Scott stuff!

The sun hung high in the sky as the Storm Par team pulled off the highway, the rumble of their vehicles echoing into the late afternoon. The excitement of the day’s chase had faded into the tired satisfaction of another successful, albeit exhausting, storm hunt. Scott Miller parked the van near the gas station, his eyes scanning the horizon as the rest of the team filtered out.

"Alright," Manny, one of the guys said, his voice clipped as he pulled out his phone. "Let’s figure out where we’re staying tonight."

Javi stretched, grinning as he looked around. "Anyone else craving a cheeseburger and fries? We could just camp out on this gas station floor for the night. There’s a diner right there if we get hungry."

Kate rolled her eyes, popping her trunk to grab her bag. "We’ve been on the road for hours, Javi. Let’s find a proper place to sleep. Then we’ll think about food. The last thing I need is to wake up with gravel in my back."

"Fine," Javi chuckled, following her toward the convenience store. "Alright, someone find us a hotel."

The rest of the team gathered around the gas station’s picnic table, pulling out phones to search for vacancies. The mood shifted from lighthearted to mildly frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Hotel after hotel in the area showed "No Vacancy" or "Fully Booked."

"What’s going on?" Kate asked, holding up her phone. "The whole county’s sold out."

Javi leaned over her shoulder, frowning at the screen. "There’s got to be something open. We’re in southern Missouri, not downtown New York."

"State fair," Scott muttered, not bothering to look up from his own search. "And it’s the weekend. Everyone and their dog’s in town."

Javi groaned, sinking into the seat next to Scott. "Of course. The damn fair’s going on. That’s why everything’s packed. Guess we’re sleeping in the vans tonight."

Scott’s eyes flicked over to Javi, a hint of something softer behind his usual professional stare. "We’ll figure something out. Hold on."

The others continued scrolling through their phones, muttering about motels, campgrounds, and any other possible option that might have an opening. After another moment of searching, Scott looked up with a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he got the text back he was waiting on.

"Actually," he began, his tone steady, "I’ve got a place nearby."

Everyone paused, eyes narrowing.

"Seriously?" Javi’s eyebrow arched in disbelief. "You? Got a place? Like, you found a hotel or—?"

"No, my house," Scott replied with a shrug, completely nonchalant. "It’s about an hour north of here. I’ve got plenty of room. It’s closer than any of the hotels I’ve found that are at least an hour and a half out."

A beat of silence followed before Kate burst out laughing. "Wait, you? You have a house? And you’re offering to let us crash there?"

Scott’s lips twitched slightly, and he shoved his phone into his pocket. "Yeah. What’s so surprising about that?"

The others exchanged puzzled looks.

"You’re not pulling our leg, right? You live in a real house? With a roof and everything?" Javi added, eyeing Scott with newfound suspicion. 

Scott glanced up at him, unamused. "I don’t have time for jokes, Javi. My wife’s expecting us. I already called ahead."

"Wife?" Kate echoed, her eyes widening. "You have a wife?"

"Yeah," Scott said flatly, clearly enjoying their surprise. "And a dog."

"Okay, now I’m confused," Javi muttered. "The Scott Miller we know lives for the storms and hates anything that resembles...normal life. And yet, here we are, hearing about a wife and a dog? And a house? What’s next? A picket fence?"

Scott smirked. "The house is in the middle of nowhere, we don’t need a fence. It’s got a wraparound porch though, a few acres of land, and yeah, a dog. His name’s Ben."

"Well," Kate said, her arms crossed, "I’m in. I’m dying to see this home of yours."

Scott turned to face them, his expression settling into its usual businesslike demeanor. "I’ll give you the directions. Don’t make me regret this."

The team exchanged glances, the disbelief starting to settle into genuine curiosity. As they piled back into the vehicles, Javi leaned over to Kate.

"So, who’s taking bets on whether he actually has a wife or if he’s just trying to be mysterious? I’m guessing it’s a secret sister or something."

Kate rolled her eyes, her lips twitching into a smile. "I’m more interested in this dog. A golden retriever, maybe?"

Scott drove ahead, his car kicking up dust as they followed in the rearview mirror. The rest of the team settled into a quieter, more contemplative mood as they cruised through the winding roads, each of them trying to picture the kind of life Scott Miller could be hiding behind his tough exterior.

* * * * *

The rumble of engines grew louder as the vehicles made their way up the gravel drive, the sound of tires on the country road familiar and comforting. You stood on the porch, your hand resting lightly on your round bump, a smile spreading across your face. You’d been keeping busy inside the house, preparing for their arrival, but now, with Scott finally home after a long storm season, the weight of the day’s tasks seemed a little lighter.

It had been a hectic few weeks, but the timing couldn’t have been better. The "off season" had lined up perfectly with your due date, and Scott would be able to be home for the birth. The thought made your heart swell—he’d be there for all the sleepless nights, the early morning feedings, the first steps, and all the moments in between. And right now, you couldn’t wait to have him home to help finish getting the nursery ready and tie up all the little details before the big day arrived.

You stepped to the top of the porch steps, the humid evening air brushing across your skin. The golden light from the setting sun made everything feel warm and welcoming, just the way you had always imagined your life with Scott would be.

As the vehicles slowed, you could see the team glancing around in awe, clearly taken aback by the farmhouse’s charm. The house itself was just as you had always dreamed it would be—big, cozy, and full of life. You could already picture the future in every corner. A few acres of land, the wraparound porch where Scott would sit after long days, the backyard where you’d let the baby play once they were old enough. The possibilities felt endless, and it all felt so right.

You glanced back toward the door as Scott’s truck came into view. His face usually all business, broke into a wide grin when he saw you. He threw the truck into park before stepping out, his long strides quickly closing the distance between you. His eyes softened as he reached you, and before you could even say a word, he was right there, his hand gently resting on your belly.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice low but filled with concern as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against your forehead, then lightly against your lips.

You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch. "I’m more than okay," you whispered back. "I’m just happy you’re home."

Scott’s hand lingered on your bump as he leaned back, his smile widening at the sight of you standing there, glowing with happiness. He placed a hand on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin. "I’m happy I’m home, too. And I’ll be here for all of it, you know that, right?" His voice was thick with emotion.

You nodded, your heart full. "I know. We’re really doing this, Scott."

The sound of the team’s voices coming up the drive drew your attention, and you turned to see them stepping out of the vehicles. The realization of how different this was for Scott—the man who spent so much of his life chasing storms, always on the move—was not lost on you. This was his home. And now, with you, it was your home too.

"Alright," Scott said, turning to the team with a teasing grin. "You all ready to meet the wife and... the bump?"

The team’s jaws dropped, clearly surprised by the sight of you.

“Scott really has a wife?" Javi asked, his voice full of incredulity.

"You didn’t tell us she was this... this..." Kate trailed off, clearly struggling for the right words, her eyes flicking back and forth between you, your bump, and Scott.

Scott shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. "Figured I’d surprise you."

Javi laughed, clearly recovering from his shock. "I gotta say, Miller, didn’t see this one coming. You’re hiding a whole family."

"Not hiding," Scott corrected, looking down at you with soft affection. "Just keeping it private."

"Well, we definitely didn’t expect the 'American dream' to come with the storm-chaser package," Kate teased, her eyes twinkling as she turned toward the team.

You chuckled, crossing your arms over your bump. "You get used to it, trust me."

As the team slowly made their way inside, Scott slipped his hand into yours, leading you into the house. "Dinner will be ready in an hour or so," you said.

Scott’s eyes sparkled with appreciation. "Perfect. I appreciate you, sweetheart."

Inside, the house was warm and inviting, with the smell of homemade food filling the air. The space was exactly what you’d hoped for—a family home, comfortable and cozy, with soft lighting and the quiet hum of a life shared between two people and soon, a little one.

The team slowly made their way toward the front door, still trying to process the fact that Scott Miller the tough, no-nonsense storm-chaser, was married and about to be a dad. You smiled to yourself, your heart full as you followed Scott inside, feeling that comforting weight of being at home.

After everyone had settled in, you got to work, eager to make the most of this time with Scott and his team. Since getting the text from Scott, you’d been preparing a hearty meal for everyone. 

The sounds of laughter and light conversation from the living room filled the air as you checked the temperature on the pork roast and prepped the bread to go in the oven. It was nice to have a moment to yourself, even with the others around, and you savored the feeling of being in your own kitchen.

Every now and then, you’d hear Scott’s voice in the other room, a comforting presence you hadn’t realized you missed so much. The team seemed to be loosening up now that they were off the road, chatting about the chase and the season winding down. Every once in a while, Scott would pop his head in to check on you, offering a quick kiss on the cheek or asking if you needed help.

"Need anything?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, eyes soft but still carrying that rugged edge.

You shook your head with a smile. "I’m good, babe. Go relax. I’ve got this."

He hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between offering help and leaving you to your own rhythm, but then he shrugged and backed out of the kitchen. "Alright. If you need me, just holler."

As Scott disappeared, Kate wandered in, glancing around at the food. "Need a hand?" she asked, a friendly smile tugging at her lips.

"No, I think I’ve got it handled, thank you though," you replied, giving her a smile of your own. "You go relax, I’ll call you when it’s ready."

A while later supper was ready but you needed ot finish the sides. But the table also needed to be set. You glanced towards the living room, not wanting to bother Scott but also not wanting to asks your guests for help either.

"Hey Scott, can you set the table on the back deck?" you asked, shouting towards the living room over your shoulder. "Dinner’s almost ready."

Scott’s eyes lit up with that familiar mischievous glint. He flashed a quick smile before walking over to where you stood. "Yes, dear," he said, his voice dripping with a playful tone that immediately caught the attention of the rest of the team.

The guys, who had been quietly milling around, shot each other surprised looks, clearly trying to keep from laughing.

"Did he just say 'Yes, dear'?" Javi asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Kate snickered, nudging Javi with her elbow. "I think he did. Didn’t know Scott had it in him."

Scott, not missing a beat, gave them a look over his shoulder. "Happy wife, happy life, fellas," he said with a knowing grin, before turning to you with a wink. "Right, sweetheart?"

You chuckled, a warm, affectionate feeling washing over you as you watched Scott seamlessly switch from the hard-ass storm-chaser to the loving, supportive husband.

"Of course," you replied, your voice full of adoration. "Thanks, babe."

With that, he walked out through the back door, the sound of him moving toward the deck cutting through the light banter between the team. You smiled to yourself, feeling that contentment you’d been missing when Scott had been gone on the road for so long. Everything felt right in this moment.

You moved back to the kitchen, checking the vegetable and pork roast that were in the oven to make sure everything was cooking evenly. The rest of the team slowly trickled into the dining room, chatting amongst themselves, their teasing continuing in the background.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and when you turned, you found Scott standing behind you, looking incredibly pleased with himself as he gestured to the back deck. "Table’s set," he said, the satisfaction clear in his voice.

You walked over to him, resting your hand lightly on his chest. "Thanks, babe," you said, your heart swelling with warmth. "You really are the best."

Scott grinned down at you, his fingers brushing against your bump. "Anything for you, sweetheart.”

*****

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, despite the initial shock from the team at seeing Scott so at ease in his own home. The teasing had been relentless, but Scott took it all in stride, offering nothing more than a smirk and a casual arm around your shoulders. Now, with the meal finished and the dishes put away, the team had trickled off to their respective spaces for the evening, exhaustion from the long chase finally settling in.

The night air was warm but carried the faintest breeze, rustling through the trees surrounding the house. Crickets chirped in the distance, their rhythmic song blending with the occasional quiet murmur of conversation from inside. You stood on the back porch, letting the stillness settle over you, one hand absentmindedly resting on your belly.

The sound of the screen door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. A moment later, Scott stepped beside you, a cold glass of sweet tea in one hand, the other immediately finding its way to the small of your back.

“Tired?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You let out a slow breath, smiling as you leaned into his side. “A little. But I’m just glad you’re home.”

Scott hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your temple before guiding you over to the porch swing. He sat down first, pulling you gently into his side so you could rest against him. His hand found your belly without hesitation, thumb brushing lazily over the fabric of your dress.

“I still can’t believe the baby's going to be here soon. I'm glad I'll be able to be here for all of it,” he murmured. His voice was thick with a more vulnerable tone, something you didn't hear from Scott often.

You glanced up at him, catching the way his usual hardened expression had softened. “I was worried you’d miss it,” you admitted quietly.

Scott let out a breath, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t let that happen. The second I knew the due date, I made damn sure I’d be here.” His fingers traced gentle circles across your bump, as if grounding himself in the reality of it all. “Storm chasing is one thing, but this… this is the biggest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you reached up, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad, you know that?”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “Only because you’ll be an amazing mom.”

You smiled, shifting just enough to press a kiss to his jaw. “Guess our kid's gonna be pretty lucky then.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just sat there, swaying gently in the night air, wrapped up in each other and the life you were building together. The storm chasing season was over—for now—and for the first time in a long time, Scott Miller wasn’t thinking about the next chase. He was thinking about home.

And as far as he was concerned, he was exactly where he belonged.

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror..............Part VIII

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Geta makes a declaration of love. It isn't received well, through no fault of his own.

Warnings: violence, implication of SA (did not occur), 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 8 of 13?

[ Part VII ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is a bit more foundation work. I also didn't name Letha's brother (or any of her family) so you can picture whoever you want. I almost took all this out, I wasn't sure it fit everything I've written up to now, but I hope it works for you.

Raptio is literally "taking," but it's used to reference the abduction of women, to be used/enslaved or married against their will. The obvious implication there is SA, but I am not including that aspect here because it's just not needed. Being kidnapped is enough, surely. I don't know if it was really a punishable crime, but I sure hope so. It is in this version of events, anyway. The next two parts will pretty much be all Geta. Thanks for your patience!

Letha had beaten both Emperors to breakfast that morning, despite spending extra time in choosing a dress from the assortment delivered to her rooms the prior day. The anticipation of seeing Geta again drew her out of bed early. She took advantage of the quiet to actually eat a reasonable meal, only interrupted as she pushed the small plate away. 

“My brother dismissed all his concubines this morning. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Caracalla wasn’t really asking. He already knew she had something to do with it. Still, the news shocked her. She thought of Lyra, regretting her words. She hoped nothing awful had happened.

“I didn’t ask him to–”

“Of course you didn’t. You can’t tell us to do anything,” he sighed, pulling out his usual chair and plopping down in it. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

Letha took it for the kindness it was. “Thank you, Caracalla.”

He reached out and picked through the fruit, mischief lighting his eyes up. “So does this mean you two are fucking?”

She nearly choked. “N-No,” she responded, recovering, face on fire.

Caracalla giggled. She avoided looking over at him, instead choosing to study the elaborate craftsmanship of the table. It was a nice table, she thought, desperately trying to not think about Geta.

The chair beside Letha was pulled out and the man himself sank into it, a sly smile already on his face as he busied himself with adjusting his robes. He was all made up, ready for the day. Bright, shining, like Apollo. 

He leaned over, invading Letha’s space. “Did you get enough to eat?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she assured him. She was nervous to meet his eyes again after the way she left him. She was relieved he didn’t seem upset with her, quite the opposite. 

Protective?

“How is your shoulder?”

“Better,” she answered. 

She noticed Caracalla watching his brother intently. She followed his gaze, surprised to see the dark maroon already lining his eyes. She expected to see the tired, fresh-from-bed version of Geta. This was… It was nice. 

“You sure look pretty for the senators, brother,” Caracalla teased.

Geta looked down to Letha, his gaze soft for once. “It’s not for them.” The smile returned. Her face probably felt hot to the touch. She almost pressed her own hand to her face to check. 

“Why do I even have to go?” Caracalla whined, slumping in his chair. “Can’t you tend to them by yourself?”

Geta looked over at his brother, his smile growing. “It’s our duty.” He picked up an apple and took a bite, his pleasant mood almost infectious. 

“I’ve never seen you so eager to fulfill our duty,” Caracalla grumbled. 

“You must get ready, ‘Calla,” Geta requested, his tone gentle. “It shouldn’t be a long meeting. Then you can have your games.” Another bite of the apple.

Geta was always so sweet to his brother. Letha couldn’t come up with a better word for it. Taking the sting out of responsibilities, soothing his panic and fear, distracting him with life’s pleasures to ease his mood. He tolerated his teasing, even when his patience had run out for all others. Caracalla was exempt from Geta’s poor moods. He only ever received a tiny fraction of Geta’s ire when his mouth got away from him and he seemed on the verge of revealing something in other company that Geta wished to remain private. 

And Caracalla intuitively understood his brother’s shifting moods and their cause, not usually having to ask him what was wrong, what might be bothering him. Perhaps all that time seated beside his brother he became a good study. 

“At least Letha will keep me company,” Caracalla smiled.

“The senators might balk at her presence,” Geta admitted.

“Since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” Geta claimed, glancing down at Letha. “She can come if she wants to.”

“Is she not here for my protection?” Caracalla asked, seemingly concerned.

“I’ve arranged for Tegula’s best man to remain at your side, at all times,” Geta explained, gesturing to a lightly armored man standing in the corner of the room, tucked in among the columns as if he was trying to be inconspicuous. “This is Ancus.”

Caracalla looked over at the man. Then back to his brother, to Letha. To Geta again. “But I don’t want Ancus, I want Letha,” Caracalla complained, something in his tone veering towards true agitation.

“She’s still healing, ‘Calla,” Geta explained. “She will be near, but I would feel better if Ancus stayed with you too, at least until we figure out who’s responsible for these attacks.”

“You just want her for yourself!” Caracalla accused, standing from his chair. Geta mirrored his movement, albeit much more slowly.

“Caracalla, I—” he paused, adopting a more gentle tone before continuing, “I will not keep her from you. She can do as she pleases. I just need to know that you are safe.”

His words seemed to soothe him enough, but Letha worried that this would not be the last of this conversation. Caracalla skulked off, and Ancus followed after him silently. 

Geta sank back into his chair with a sigh, his mood no longer nearly as pleasant.

“I will spend time with him today,” Letha offered, broaching the silence. 

He leaned his head back, his head turning in her direction lazily, a smirk appearing. “Not too much, I hope.”

“As much as is necessary to preserve his good temper,” she answered, the pressure of his warm eyes on her jump-starting that heat again, as if she were back in the gardens again, frozen beneath his stare.

“Oh, but then I’d never see you, Letha,” he teased, moving closer, “and I have more to offer you.”

“More?” She couldn’t help her eyes falling to his lips.

She jumped in her seat as his fingers found the skin along the inside of her leg, just past her knee, too close for where they were, in the middle of the dining hall. She quickly pressed her hands to his, trapping it against her skin. He squeezed.

He leaned over further, his lips finding her ear. “Just something for you to consider today, when you’re… deciding how to allocate your time.” His teasing was back in full force. He drew back, taking another bite of the apple, his stare unwavering as he chewed.

Letha could only watch him right back, thoughts boiling until her legs stopped shaking and she could stand.

Letha understood Caracalla’s complaints about having to meet with the Senators almost immediately. She could feel their eyes on her as soon as she stepped into the room, following behind the twins as they made their way over to their thrones, side by side. 

“A chair,” Geta summoned, pointing to the space beside his seat.

“By me, brother,” Caracalla insisted. 

Geta frowned, but relented.

Letha was sure to reach down and brush the hand gripping the arm of his seat with her fingers as she passed around the chairs, a consolation to try to keep him jovial. She took a seat as instructed, body turned in towards Caracalla in the presence of so many strangers, with clear distaste in their expressions for her unconventional presence.

“Caesars, forgive me, but what is this woman doing here? This is hardly the place for a dalliance—”

Geta rose, the speed of it startling some, Letha included. “She is a lady, and you will address her as such,” he corrected, standing before the bravest of the Senators. A display of power, of confidence. Of ego. “That lady is the reason your Emperors still stand and breathe. I believe you owe her an apology.”

He was incensed. Part of Letha almost felt bad for the Senator cowering before Geta, all his fury and splendor making him appear very much like a god. It shouldn’t have been so thrilling to see, but Letha couldn’t help herself.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he spoke, his eyes on Geta. His fear was palpable. 

Caracalla giggled beside her. “It’s not usually this entertaining.”

A few more moments of lording over the senator and Geta stepped back, slightly more composed. “What do you need of us today?” Geta finally asked, sinking back into his seat.

An older senator stood, stepping into the middle of the room, drawing Geta’s gaze. “There was a question of increasing your personal guard’s wages, Caesars?”

“Yes,” another stood, “We do have questions as to the… necessity of this. It is a steep price.”

Geta frowned. “Is our safety not worth the extra expense? We’ve had two attacks in as many days.”

“Well, perhaps if you did not hold such lavish dinner parties every night, the costs could go towards this increase you desire.”

“Senator Gracchus,” Geta smiled, standing. “I will remind you that we have not yet found the person responsible for bribing the Praetorian. Someone wishes us dead.”

Letha froze up in her seat. Yes, someone did. But they were looking in the wrong place. 

“The sum recovered was far too large for an average citizen to come up with,” Geta explained, circling the senator. All others had backed off, allowing all of Geta’s displeasure to focus in on Gracchus. “Should I have you interrogated? Or will you pay Tegula’s men what they are owed?”

A moment longer was all it took before Gracchus wavered, relenting. “They shall have it, Emperor.” A chorus of similar responses sounded throughout the room.

“Very good,” Geta praised, moving past the senator and reclaiming his seat. “What else?”

The doors at the back of the room opened and a tall, hulking figure clad in dark armor and a red cape strode in, bowing before the emperors before rising to his full height. The garish line across the side of his head still looked like it burned, the flesh vividly red around the line. The cut ear.

Letha recognized him immediately. She shrank in her seat, drawing Caracalla’s eye. A flash of her brother’s bruised and bloody face had her squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t enough, the image wouldn’t leave.

“Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” the general greeted. “I have come to report on my men.” He did not spare a glance to Letha. Either he mistook her for another of their concubines, or did not spend enough time in the Senate chambers to know how unusual her presence was. 

“General Plautianus,” Geta greeted. His eyes raked over the violent wound. “What of them?”

“Regrettably, they cannot seem to be contained,” Thraex interjected, eyes on the General as he got to his feet. “They drink the city dry and commit acts of violence upon its citizens. A brawl in a brothel just yesterday required a hefty discretionary payment to appease the owner so he didn’t ban the entire army.”

“They need to be sent away,” Gracchus agreed. “They are bored, and their victories have given them a feeling of entitlement to the city’s offerings.”

Oh, that sounds quite familiar, Letha frowned. So as long as it isn’t taking place in Rome, that’s what matters, she thought bitterly, sinking back into her memories and tuning out the rest of the conversation. 

“Your God-Emperors are cowards,” Letha’s brother spoke, his lip split, his brow leaking blood. His eye socket looked broken, his skin beginning to darken around his eye. 

“You should hold your tongue,” General Plautianus spat, stepping past the man crumpled against the wall. Another soldier knelt beside him, gripping the cloth covering his shoulders tightly, keeping him upright.

“You Romans can’t take a joke,” he laughed. It devolved into a coughing fit not long after, his hands going to his ribs as he grimaced.

Letha looked up, worry filling her as she waited for her brother to recover, desperately trying to figure out how to help him, how to get them out of this mess.

“You should stop talking before you choke on your blood,” another soldier threatened.

“You’d have to hit me a bit harder for that,” he grunted, clearly nursing a broken rib.

“Brother, please!” Letha pleaded, begging for him to be silent. Him egging on their captors would ruin their chances of surviving this night. 

The sound of the harsh slap cut through the room, almost echoing. For a moment Letha couldn’t feel her face at all. Then it all flooded in at once, tears welling, clouding her vision.

She could hear her brother shouting, the soldiers joining in. She tried to ignore the way her cheek stung, too concerned for her brother’s welfare to care about her own. It was one blow versus the great many he’d suffered at their hands already. 

They were holding him down against the wall, it took two of them now. The General stood before her, his hand still outstretched from the slap, though his eyes were cast over his shoulder at her brother as he spouted insulting, angry words.

“You are lucky you’re considered one of Rome’s subjects now,” the General spoke, returning his attention to Letha. “Your dear father pleaded for your safety, and I can think of none better to secure it than me.”

Letha understood his intent, the implication of his words. It was nothing new. It was all men ever did. She couldn’t be dragged to Rome. She refused. As her brother drew his attention once more, his protests much more spirited, she saw only one opportunity to save herself from that future. 

She reached forward and drew the sword from its hilt on his belt, the sound of it drawing all attention to her. It was heavier than she was used to, the blade much wider. Still, she didn’t waste a moment, swinging it recklessly at the General’s head. It drew blood, but the recoil of it hitting his thick skull forced it out of her hands. He roared, his hands moving to cover the red line leaking blood down the side of his head. 

Letha felt the stabbing point of a gladius at her back, the soldier’s boot forcing her flat onto the floor. She wondered if it had drawn blood, it felt quite sharp even through the dress. Even if she had just signed her own death warrant, that would be preferable to the alternative.

Plautianus hissed as he cupped his ear, reaching down for his discarded sword. He used it to tilt her face up, forcing her to see the wound she’d created. “You’ll pay for that,” he assured her.

“Please, just leave her alone,” her brother pleaded. “It was stupid, she shouldn’t have done it, but don’t hurt her.”

His words stung. He was right, it was incredibly stupid of her, but she had to do something–

“No, no–”

The blade had left her chin without her realizing it. It was embedded in her brother’s throat. She screamed.

“Letha,” Caracalla whispered, a hand pressing against her cheek, drawing her back to the present. “Are you alright?” She jumped, crashing out of the vivid memory. He moved his hand down to squeeze hers. “Do you want something to drink?”

She shook her head, eyes landing on Plautianus. He wore the very same armor as that day. 

He is the monster.

“I will think on it,” Geta answered, dismissing the senators. “General, I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.” He wasn’t really asking.

Plautianus nodded, clasping his hands together in front of him, watching the senators as they trickled out of the room. As his eyes scanned the room, they finally landed on her. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes and he reflexively reached up for the side of his head, to the scar there. He said nothing of it, instead returning his attention to his smiling Emperor.

“Letha,” Geta called out, reaching an arm out for her to join him. Her stomach sank like a stone. “Come on,” he urged, as if he were coaxing a small child into a room full of strangers. As if it were shyness keeping her in her seat. But he didn’t know. How could he know?

She stood on shaky legs and released Caracalla’s hand to walk over, trying to keep her eyes on Geta so she didn’t fall into a state of panic. Even though months had passed, it was now so fresh in her mind, as if it had happened only days ago. She felt ill.

Geta was concerned, but he hid it well. He wrapped an arm around her waist and returned his attention to the General. 

“I’d like to introduce you to Letha,” Geta spoke, looking down at Letha with something close to love in his eyes. Perhaps she was imagining it to save herself from the reality of what was unfolding.

“I don’t believe you two have met, unless… Well, have you?” Geta prodded, all pretense falling away. 

Letha felt herself suck in a deep breath at the realization. Geta knew. How much, she couldn’t say. But he knew of their meeting, likely how she was brought to Rome. How she was purchased by Macrinus. From Macrinus himself, she thought. It would explain their new closeness. What else had Macrinus shared?

General Plautianus seemed just as caught off guard. He looked like he wasn’t sure if he ought to lie, or admit to his crime. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Geta frowned. “Ancus,” he muttered, signaling for him to approach. 

Ancus moved swiftly behind the General, pressing his boot into the back of Plautianus’s knee to force him onto the marble, his hands gripping the pauldrons to keep the General still.

“Raptio,” Geta spat, “is a crime, General. Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

The sound of a sword being drawn sent shivers of revulsion down Letha’s spine. The tremors that Geta had stilled with his hand at her lower back resumed. The General looked truly frightened. It didn’t fill Letha with any amount of satisfaction. She was just as scared as he was.

Geta raised the General’s sword high so he could inspect the edge, trying to determine its sharpness. He pressed the blade to the spot just above the chestplate, letting the tip bite through the cloth covering the base of his throat before turning to Letha, ignoring the General altogether.

“Should he be killed?”

Letha could see now the warnings she’d been given. Geta was deadly. He was clever and vengeful and violent. But he hid it well. So well. Much better than Caracalla. Seeing the senators scared to defy him, the way his General seemed scared of his whims, she should’ve been scared of him too. 

But it was never directed at her. And even now, it was being done in service of her desires, her wants. She felt… honored. He was offering her a gift. A declaration of love if looked at in the right light. 

She felt her own love for him beginning to bud, but her memories were too distracting in the moment, keeping her expression empty, her body trembling. If they were somewhere else, she might have taken the time to explain, so he’d understand she wasn’t spurning him intentionally, she just couldn’t get a handle on her own mind.

“Emperor!” Plautianus lifted his hands up from his waist, his plea desperate. “T-This is improper.” 

Geta glowered down at him, his eyes narrowed. 

“She attacked us,” he tried to explain. Ancus kept his knees pressed to the floor.

“Quiet!” Geta ordered, glaring at the General. He returned his eyes to Letha’s, his gaze softening immediately.

In that moment all Letha could do was stand there and try to keep her tears at bay. 

Was this the same sword used on her brother?

Geta was patient, reading into the way she shook slightly, a bead of sweat falling down over her temple. She was terrified. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time. He could drag him out again later on, when she felt more up to it.

“It seems Justicia has saved you today, Plautianus. Find solace in your cell.”

The sword was silently returned to Ancus and as soon as it left Geta’s hand he brought her back in close, whisking her away from the scene and over to the golden thrones. 

“Brother?” Caracalla asked, clearly confused.

“I will explain later,” Geta spoke, his eyes focused on Letha. His hands found her cheeks, attempting to soothe her. “I should not have sprung that upon you,” he realized. 

“I-I do not think–I think I should lie down,” she confessed, a tear spilling down her cheek. She could see the heartbreak plain in Geta’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can attend the games today, I don’t feel well.”

“It’s fine,” Geta assured her, smoothing her hair out of her face. “I should have warned you.”

She couldn’t say anything more, couldn’t offer some placating remark to soothe his mood. She needed calm and quiet, and she wouldn’t get that from the arena. She hoped he understood that.

[ Part IX ]

[atlasthegreatest]

Trèfle à Quatre Feuilles/ Cassandra Cain, Laura Kinney, Cindy Moon x Male Reader

Headcanons about Cassandra, Laura, and Cindy being in a relationship with the unluckiest lucky man in the world.

A/n: This was requested by @earthboundguythatlikesmother1 hope you like this. And sorry for the long wait.

Cassandra Cain



— How did they meet? —

It was one of those brutal Gotham nights where things just spiraled out of control. Cassandra had taken down a gang in a warehouse, but not without sustaining a nasty stab wound to her side. Refusing to involve Bruce or Alfred, she slipped away to avoid being tracked back to the Batcave.

Y/n was finishing up a long shift when he decided to stop by a small diner for some late-night coffee. Cassandra in her batgirl suit stumbled into the alley next to the diner, trying to catch her breath. She hadn’t expected anyone to be there, but Y/n heard the faint sound of her staggered steps and immediately rushed over to check.

Cassandra was defensive at first, wary of the man’s intentions. She didn’t want help—she was trained to take care of herself. But when Y/n introduced himself as a paramedic and calmly explained he was just there to help, she hesitated. There was something about the sincerity in his eyes that made her pause.

Without asking too many questions, Y/n quickly assessed her wound and patched her up with supplies he had on hand. Despite her stoicism, Y/n could tell she was in pain. He cracked a quiet joke about how Gotham’s nightlife wasn’t all it was hyped up to be, and Cassandra gave him the faintest hint of a smile.

Once she was stable, Cassandra thanked him quietly and disappeared before he could ask for her name. Y/n chalked it up to just another strange Gotham encounter.

A week later, Cassandra spotted Y/n again—this time in the middle of chaos. A fight between Batgirl and a villain had spilled into the streets, and Y/n was one of the unlucky bystanders caught in the fray. Except, true to his weird luck, everything that could have hurt him either missed by inches or was deflected by sheer coincidence.

After the fight, she approached the man to make sure he was okay. Y/n recognized her instantly as the woman he’d helped, even in her Batgirl suit. Y/n couldn’t help but tease her a little: “Hey, you’re a lot better at taking punches than you are at avoiding stab wounds.”

Intrigued by the man’s ability to stay alive in Gotham’s chaos and impressed by his calm demeanor, Cassandra began to keep an eye on him. At first, it was to ensure he didn’t get hurt, but over time, she found herself wanting to know more about him.

— How did their relationship develop from strangers to more? —

Whether it’s coincidence or her silently protecting him, Y/n keeps running into Cassandra during her patrols. Each time, he strike up a conversation, trying to get her to talk more. Slowly but surely, Y/n earns her trust.

Cassandra eventually starts visiting him after tough nights. Y/n offered her a place to rest, patched her up when needed, and always treated her with kindness and patience. He doesn’t push her to talk about her past or her work, but he makes it clear she’s always welcome.

It took months, but Cassandra finally felt comfortable enough to meet Y/n outside of her Batgirl persona. She showed up in civilian clothes, nervous but determined. Y/n, of course, greeted her with the same easygoing smile and suggested grabbing coffee.

— How is their dynamic as a couple? —

On paper, Y/n and Cassandra don’t make sense. Y/n’s just a normal guy in a world of capes and criminals, and Cassandra’s one of the most dangerous fighters in Gotham. But in reality? They make each other feel safe in a way that no one else can.

The protective one x The “it’s fine” one trope.

Cassandra is hyper-aware of danger. She sees threats before they happen and constantly watches Y/n’s movements, trying to anticipate where he might need protection.

Y/n, on the other hand, is the human embodiment of “Don’t worry, it’ll work out.” And annoyingly… he’s always right.

Cassandra once tried to train Y/n in basic self-defense, but halfway through, a pigeon randomly flew into the training mat, distracting her long enough for Y/n to dodge one of her attacks. “See? I’m fine,” he grinned. She just stared.

Neither of them is overly wordy when it comes to love. Cassandra struggles with verbal expression and Y/n? He believes actions speak louder than words.

Y/n’s way of saying “I love you” is patching Cassandra up after missions, making sure she eats properly, and leaving little notes in her gear with reminders like “Don’t forget you’re amazing.”

Cassandra’s way of saying “I love you” is leaning against Y/n while they watch TV, bringing him coffee during long shifts, and quietly fixing his collar before he leaves for work.

At first, Cassandra was deeply confused by how Y/n always survive situations that should at least leave him injured. Whether it’s a collapsing building, a stray bullet, or a villainous ambush—somehow, he always come out of it without a scratch.

“You should be dead,” she says blankly after Y/n walks out of a burning building holding someone’s pet cat. Y/n just shrug and say, “I guess it wasn’t my time.”

Y/n’s just a guy who loves Cassandra.

Despite the insanity of Gotham, all Y/n really wants to do is be a good paramedic and support Cassandra. Y/n knows she struggles with emotions and words sometimes, so he makes sure to show her love through actions—bringing her food, patching her up, and just sitting in comfortable silence when she needs it.

— How does everyone react to Y/n's “luck”?—

Y/n’s luck baffles the entire Bat-Family.

Bruce runs tests. Tim investigates. Barbara tries to analyze his movements. Damian assumes he’s some ancient being with hidden abilities.

But no. Y/n was just lucky.

Cassandra still instinctively tries to protect Y/n—standing between him and danger, keeping him out of crime scenes—but somehow, Y/n always end up saving someone while dodging death himself.

One time, she tries to push him out of the way of a falling streetlight, only for Y/n to trip, dodge it, and land perfectly on a mattress someone dumped on the sidewalk.

“…Did you plan that?” she asked. “Nope. But that was convenient,” Y/n replied.

Gotham’s villains thinks he’s cursed.

The Rogues Gallery is deeply unsettled by Y/n. Joker tries to throw him into a death trap? The mechanism jams. Scarecrow douses him in fear toxin? Y/n sneezes at the exact right moment and miss the full dose.

Even Ra’s al Ghul is unnerved. “This man… he cannot be just a man,” he mutters.

One time, Y/n gets knocked out during a hostage situation. Cassandra panics, thinking this is it—only for the ceiling to collapse exactly on the bad guys while leaving him completely fine.

In the end Y/n wake up dazed, looking at Cass’s worried face. “Did we win?”

“…Yes.”

Y/n had accepted that things just… work out for him. But Cassandra? She doesn’t trust luck. She trusts skill, and she worries that one day, Y/n’s luck might run out.

“You’re not invincible,” she reminds him.

“I know,” Y/n say, wrapping an arm around her.

Y/n’s luck rubs off on others (sometimes).

It’s weird. When people stick around Y/n, they also seem to avoid disaster. Cassandra finds herself dodging things she didn’t see coming, and even Jason once grumbled about how Y/n saved him from getting shot—purely because he tripped and accidentally knocked him out of the way.

“I don’t like this,” Jason mutters. “It’s unnatural.”

“Hey, I work in emergency response. I’m basically a professional at avoiding death,” Y/n jokes.

Bonus Headcanons:

Dick: “Okay, but what do you do when something bad happens?”

Y/n: “I just… move?”

Dick: *Squints*

Barbara: Low-key worried Cassandra is dating some kind of cosmic glitch but sees how happy Y/n makes her and approves.

Damian: Highly suspicious. He’s tried to throw things at Y/n to “test” his reflexes, only for a strong breeze to blow them off course.

Bruce: Ran so many background checks on Y/n. Eventually, he just had to accept he was just a normal dude with abnormal luck.

When Y/n cooks, he always guess the perfect amount of seasoning—even without measuring.

That on-time Cassandra and Y/n ran into Bruce Wayne at a restaurant? Y/n just happened to have saved the life of one of his board members earlier that day, so their meal was covered.

When Cassandra forgets to grab an umbrella? Surprise, Y/n randomly found one on the street right before it rained.

There was one time when Y/n’s luck nearly gave Cassandra a heart attack. Y/n fell off a rooftop (long story, blame Gotham), and she thought for sure this was the end—only for him to land in a pile of mattresses that had been thrown out earlier that day.

Cassandra was not amused. She didn’t let go of Y/n for a solid five minutes.

After that, she started keeping an arm around Y/n whenever they walked near ledges.

Laura Kinney

— How did they meet? —

It all started with a dog fight.

Laura had been tracking down a group running illegal underground animal fights. When she finally found their hideout, she did not hold back. By the time she was done, the whole operation was shut down, and every animal was freed.

But one dog—a battered, half-starved pit bull—refused to leave her side.

Laura didn’t know what to do with the dog. She wasn’t exactly an animal person, but something about this one made her hesitate.

She had no idea where to take it, so she just walked into the nearest veterinary clinic—which happened to be the clinic owned by Y/n.

Y/n took one look at the beaten-up dog, then at the bloodstained (but completely uninjured) woman holding it, and sighed.

“Rough night?” The man asked, already grabbing medical supplies.

“Not for me,” Laura replied, setting the dog down carefully.

Laura was fully expecting the man to be scared or suspicious. After all, most people took one look at her and knew she wasn’t normal.

But that man? He didn’t ask how the dog got hurt. He didn’t even flinch at the blood on her clothes. He just focused on helping.

When Y/n finished patching up the dog, he handed Laura a water bottle. “You okay?”

The mutant blinked, caught off guard. “I wasn’t in the fight.”

“Didn’t ask if you were,” Y/n said simply.

The dog became the first excuse Laura used to see Y/n again.

Laura didn’t plan on coming back, but the dog needed check-ups… and she didn’t trust just anyone with it.

Y/n, meanwhile, had started mentally labeling her as a mysterious badass with a soft spot for animals.

Over time, Laura started lingering a little longer after appointments. Watching Y/n work. Listening to how he talked to animals like they were people.

Y/n noticed, of course. “You’re welcome to stick around,” he told her once. “Though I’d appreciate a name to go with the brooding presence.”

“Laura.”

“Cool. I’m Y/n.” Y/n extended his hand, but Laura just stared at it. The man shrugged and went back to work.

— When did their relationship develop from strangers to more?—

One night, Laura was walking past Y/n’s clinic when she saw a robbery in progress. A guy had a gun on Y/n, demanding money.

Before Laura could even react, the guy tripped over absolutely nothing and knocked himself out on the counter.

Y/n blinked, looking down at him. “Huh.”

Laura, still hidden in the shadows, just stared.

When Y/n noticed her watching, he waved. “Hey, Laura. You’re here for a late-night check-up?”

She stepped into the light, eyes narrowing. “How did you—?”

“Oh, the robber? Bad luck, I guess.” Y/n grinned. “Or really, really good luck on my part.”

After that night, Laura started dropping by more often. Not just for the dog, but to observe Y/n.

Y/n was just… so normal. But at the same time, completely unaffected by the craziness around him.

“You live in a world of mutants, monsters, and super-soldiers,” she said one day, watching Y/n bandage a cat’s paw. “How are you still alive?”

The man shrugged. “Maybe I’m just lucky.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Tell that to the guy who tripped and knocked himself out.”

One night, Y/n found Laura waiting outside the clinic after his shift.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You should lock your doors,” the mutant said instead of answering.

“I do.”

“Not well enough.” She handed Y/n a brand-new, heavy-duty lock and security system.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Laura, are you… protecting me?”

She crossed her arms. “You’re bad at it.”

Y/n smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“It’s not.”

“It definitely is.”

(She didn’t argue, but her ears were a little red.)

— How did they start dating? —

They started going on “not-dates” (Laura’s words). Coffee after work. Walks with the dog. Laura stopped by just to “check on things.”

One day, Y/n was treating a bird with a broken wing when he muttered, “Man, I wish I had your healing factor.”

Laura, watching the man from the corner, casually said, “I’d give it to you if I could.”

Y/n paused. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

The mutant went silent for a long moment before quietly saying, “That wasn’t… a joke.”

That’s when it hit Y/n—Laura Kinney, the unstoppable X-23, actually cared about him.

Y/n just smiled. “Well, I don’t need a healing factor. I’ve got my luck.”

The mutant rolled her eyes. But she also didn’t correct him.

The X-Men didn’t get it. Logan pretended he hated it (but secretly approved). Deadpool was obsessed with Y/n’s luck.

But to Y/n? Dating Laura felt natural. Like the universe had somehow balanced things out.

Y/n wasn’t strong like her. He wasn’t a fighter. But he was steady, reliable, and unfazed by the chaos around him.

And Laura, for the first time in her life, found someone who made her feel safe. Even if she still refused to believe in luck.

— How is their dynamic as a couple? —

The protective one x The “I’ll be fine” one trope (once again).

Laura is hyper-vigilant. If someone so much as looks at Y/n wrong, she’s already sizing them up. Laura is always ready to fight for Y/n. Someone looks at him wrong? She’s already sizing them up. A villain attacks? She’s got her claws out before Y/n can blink.

The problem? Y/n literally never gets hurt. He once walked straight through a fight between two mutant mercenaries, completely unharmed.

“You can’t just walk through danger like that,” Laura grumbled afterward.

“Why not? It worked,” he said, completely serious.

Laura just stared at Y/n like he was an unsolvable puzzle.

Laura doesn't know how to handle Y/n’s luck.

She doesn’t trust luck. At all. Life has never been kind to her, so she relies on skill, instincts, and planning.

Y/n? Y/n just roll with whatever happens.

One time, a car nearly hit him, but then the tire randomly blew out at the last second.

“How,” Laura muttered under her breath.

“No idea,” the man grinned. “Kinda fun, right?” the woman just squinted at him.

Laura isn’t big on words, and Y/n’s not a dramatic romantic.

Their love is shown in small, everyday gestures.

Y/n makes sure Laura eats properly. Laura fixes Y/n’s collar before he leaves for work. Y/n patches her up after missions, even though she heals in seconds. And Laura checks his clinic’s security every single night without telling him.

Laura is used to taking lives. Y/n, on the other hand, spends every day saving them. That contrast calms her. She likes watching Y/n work and seeing his gentle approach to life.

“You could’ve been a doctor,” she comments one night.

The man shrugs. “Animals are nicer.”

Laura considers that for a second. “Yeah. They are.”

— How does everyone react to Y/n's “luck”? —

Villains have given up on using Y/n as a hostage.

Someone tried once. Big mistake.

Before Laura could even rescue Y/n, the villain slipped on a spilled drink, fell into some exposed wiring, and electrocuted themselves unconscious.

“…You did that on purpose.” “I swear, I didn’t.”

Now, criminals actively avoid kidnapping Y/n. He now has a reputation.

Logan doesn’t trust Y/n at first. “A normal guy? No powers? Dating Laura? In this world?” But when he sees how Y/n keeps dodging death like a cartoon character, he just gives up trying to understand it.

Beast has run every test possible on Y/n. “There must be some scientific explanation.” Nope. Y/n was just that lucky.

Deadpool thinks Y/n’s some kind of “cosmic joke” and fully supports it. He once followed Y/n around for a day just to watch his luck in action. “This is better than TV,” he muttered as Y/n dodged another explosion without even noticing.

Laura does not trust luck. She trusts skill, instincts, and brute force. The fact that Y/n doesn’t have any of those and still survives stresses her out.

“Luck isn’t real,” she grumbles after Y/n casually avoids a Sentinel attack because he stopped to pet a stray dog.

“Maybe not,” Y/n reply, scratching the dog’s ears. “But if it is, I think it likes me.”

Gambit is a gambler. The moment he realizes Y/n’s luck is real, he starts taking Y/n to poker games.

“Mon ami, just sit next to me. I don't even need ya to play.”

Y/n doesn’t even gamble, but somehow everyone else at the table starts losing except Gambit. (He splits the winnings with Y/n, of course.)

Bonus Headcanons:

Logan does not like most people around Laura. But Y/n? He’s not a threat, and he makes her happy.

He’ll still act gruff. “If you hurt her, bub, I’ll gut ya.”

“Fair enough,” Y/n replies cheerfully.

He once saw Y/n walk through an explosion without a scratch and just muttered, “This guy ain’t normal.”

But he’ll never admit that he likes Y/n. He just tolerates the guy very enthusiastically.

Laura doesn’t do traditional romance, but she’ll casually lean against Y/n while he works. That’s her version of cuddling.

Y/n’s fridge is always stocked with protein bars because she eats like a wild animal.

Y/n has so many animals around him, and at first, Laura acted like she didn’t care… but then Y/n caught her secretly naming the clinic’s strays.

“Laura… did you name this stray cat ‘Murderclaws’?”

Silence. Then: “…It fits.”

Y/n got caught in a building collapse once. Laura saw him go under.

For a solid minute, she thought he was actually gone. Then, Y/n casually climbed out of the rubble, completely fine.

She didn’t say a word—just walked up and hugged him tight.

“Okay,” Y/n said after a moment. “I take it that was a close one?”

“I hate you,” she muttered. But she didn’t let go.

Y/n’s luck even works on animals.

Vicious dog? Loves him.

Angry stray cat? Purring in his lap.

A literal rampaging mutant bear? Somehow, it calms down when Y/n talks to it.

Laura, covered in blood and scratches from trying to take the bear down: “What the—how did you—”

Y/n, petting the bear: “I dunno. I just have a calming presence?”

Cindy Moon

— How did they meet? —

It all started with one lucky shot.

The Daily Mail wanted exclusive photos of Silk, the new web-slinging hero in town.

Y/n’s boss— J. Jonah Jameson— sent him out to get ANY shot of her in action.

“She’s fast, hard to track, and doesn’t stick around. Just get something we can use.”

Y/n figured, why not?

Cindy was mid-fight with some low-level criminals when Y/n randomly snapped a photo.

The shot? Flawless. Perfect lighting. Dramatic action pose. Background blur just right.

Y/n wasn’t even trying that hard. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

J. Jonah Jameson went nuts over it.

“HOW DID YOU GET THIS?!”

“Uhh… just lucky, I guess?”

Cindy noticed him. And when she saw the front page article with her as Silk, she thought: “How the hell did someone get that shot??”

She started keeping an eye on Y/n, convinced he was either: A secret agent. A private investigator or some kind of meta-human.

Cindy then decided to test him.

Cindy (as Silk) set up a fake crime scene—just some staged webbing on a rooftop to see if Y/n “just happen” to be there.

Y/n was walking home from work… and somehow stumbled onto the exact rooftop she was watching.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Cindy muttered under her breath.

Meanwhile, Y/n just looked around like, “Huh, a weird place for a crime scene.”

Cindy finally dropped down in front of the man and asked straight up: “Who do you work for?”

Y/n just blinked. “Uh… the Daily Mail?”

Y/n explained that he was just a photographer, trying to get good shots.

Cindy stared at him, processing.

“So… you’re not a spy?”

“No?”

“Not secretly a mutant?”

“Nope.”

“Not working for some shady organization?”

“I mean, the Daily Mail is kinda shady sometimes, but nah.”

Cindy kept running into Y/n (completely by accident).

No matter where she was—swinging through the city, fighting crime, grabbing coffee—Y/n was always there.

Not stalking. Not searching. Just existing in the exact right place, every time.

One day, Y/n was at a coffee shop, reading his new camera manual. Cindy (out of costume) sat next to him without realizing it.

When they both noticed each other, she blurted out: “Are you a glitch in the Matrix??”

Y/n laughed and said, “I think I’m just really, really lucky.”

That was the moment Cindy realized: Oh crap. I like this guy.

— How did their relationship develop from strangers to more? —

Cindy asking Y/n out in the most awkward way possible.

She tried to be casual. She failed.

“Hey, so, like, you’re funny and stuff. And not a spy. And, um… do you like food?”

Y/n blinked. “Yeah?”

“Cool. You should eat food. With me. Sometime. Or now.”

Y/n grinned. “Are you asking me out?”

Cindy froze. Then blurted: “MAYBE.”

Y/n just chuckled. “Alright. Let’s go get some food.”

They started dating. Cindy pretended not to be into Y/n at first, but everyone could tell she was.

“I mean, he’s just some guy.”

“Cindy, you literally watch him like a hawk.”

The fact that Y/n kept surviving ridiculous situations only made her fall for him harder.

— How is their dynamic as a couple? —

Cindy acts first, thinks later.

Y/n goes with the flow but somehow always ends up in the right place at the right time.

If a fight breaks out? Cindy is already swinging into action, while Y/n just steps to the side and avoids an explosion without noticing.

Cindy: “You should be panicking right now!”

You: “Eh, I had a feeling I’d be fine.”

She’s so stressed, but she loves that Y/n is the calm to her storm.

Cindy worries about Y/n constantly.

But no matter what happens, Y/n always survive unscathed.

“Babe, stay behind me!”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

Five seconds later, a random lamppost falls and blocks an attack heading for Y/n.

Cindy: ”…I hate you.”

Y/n: “Nah, you love me.”

She has danger-sense, super agility, and reflexes—and she still takes hits sometimes.

Meanwhile, Y/n walked through crossfire, explosions, and falling debris without a scratch.

“I train every day to survive fights. What is your excuse?”

“Just vibes.”

Cindy once made Y/n wear protective gear on a date. It somehow got damaged, but he was completely fine.

“I give up,” she mutters as Y/n sips his coffee.

Cindy has major anxiety and trust issues from being locked in a bunker for years.

Y/n reminds her to breathe, take breaks, and enjoy life.

Cindy pretends she’s the cool one in the relationship.

But the moment Y/n’s not around, she’s like: “Has anyone seen my boyfriend?”

“Cindy, it’s been five minutes.”

She loves how easygoing and funny Y/n is, but she will never say it to his face. (Until she’s half-asleep and mumbles, “You’re my favorite person.”).

— How does everyone react to Y/n's “luck”? —

Cindy is incredibly protective of the people she cares about.

Y/n? He just keeps walking through life unscathed, and it drives her nuts.

“I swear if you get crushed by a collapsing building—”

“Babe, I won’t.”

The building collapses. Y/n stepped to the side at the exact right moment.

Cindy just squints at Y/n. “This is NOT NORMAL.”

“Neither is web-slinging, but here we are.”

Spider-Man thinks it’s hilarious.

“Bro, I have Spidey-Sense and I still get hit. How do you do it?”

“No clue, man. Just vibes.”

Black Cat desperately wants to steal Y/n’s luck.

“Are you sure you don’t have powers? No magical artifact? No deals with demons?”

“Nope. Just a guy with a camera and a dream.”

Someone tried taking Y/n into hostage once.

Before Cindy could even come to the rescue, the villain accidentally knocked himself out trying to tie him up.

Another time, Y/n was trapped in a burning building… but then a freak rainstorm put the fire out.

At this point, villains actively avoid Y/n because something always goes wrong for them.

J. Jonah Jameson doesn’t know how Y/n does it.

“How do you ALWAYS get the perfect shot? Do you have a sixth sense?”

“Nope. Just good timing.”

Bonus Headcanons:

Cindy forgets to eat a lot, so Y/n always make sure she has food.

“Babe, have you eaten today?”

“Uhhh—”

“That’s a no.” Y/n hands her a sandwich.

Y/n has so many photos of Cindy (both as Silk and just as herself).

She acts embarrassed but secretly loves them.

“You make me look cool.”

“You are cool.”

Cindy keeps trying to test Y/n’s luck.

She throws things at Y/n just to see if he’ll avoid them.

Y/n always accidentally dodges at the last second.

One time, she tried to catch him off guard by webbing his foot mid-walk.

Y/n tripped—but landed on a discarded mattress on the street.

Cindy just stared at him. “That. Should. Not. Have. Happened.”

Y/n shrugged. “Maybe the universe just really likes me.”

Cindy has been through so much trauma. She’s used to losing people.

But Y/n? He always comes back, no matter what happens.

And even though she teases Y/n about his luck, she’s grateful for it.

Because, for once, she doesn’t have to be afraid of losing someone she loves.

“Hey, Cindy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I might actually be the luckiest guy in the world.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up and kiss me, Lucky Boy.”

[slcmml]

tech support! charlie & reader — you turn my software into hardware.

you hate making phone calls.

absolutely despise it, actually. something about talking to a stranger, especially for customer support, makes your skin crawl. but your laptop is acting up, and after scouring the internet for a solution and coming up empty handed, you seemingly have no other choice. so, you dial the number, swallow your nerves, and wait.

“hello! this is charlie from tech co’s customer support! how can i help you today?”

you weren’t expecting the voice on the other end to sound so… cute?

it’s warm, gentle, and just a little scratchy, like he’s been talking all day but still has patience to spare. suddenly, making this phone call doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

“hi, um. yeah. my laptop isn’t working? i mean, obviously, that’s why i’m calling, but, uh, it won’t turn on, and i have no idea why.”

“gotcha! let’s see if we can get that fixed for you!”

his voice is so reassuring you almost forget you’re actually supposed to be fixing something.

he walks you through the steps, patient as ever while you fumble through them. when you press the wrong button, he gently corrects you. when you let out a frustrated groan, he laughs—not in a mean way, but like he finds you endearing. and god, it makes your stomach do a little flip.

“it’s okay, take your time! i’m here to help, promise.”

and help he does.

except at some point, your laptop starts working again, but you don’t want tell him.

“huh? still not working? that’s weird.”

you lie straight through your teeth just to keep talking to him. it’s shameless, really, but you don’t even care. he’s kind, patient, and his voice is the nicest thing you’ve heard all day. so you keep up the act just a little longer, drawing out the conversation until there’s truly nothing left to say.

“well, i’m glad i could help! and if you need anything else, you know where to call.”

oh, you do. and you’re already thinking about it.

“you’ve been super helpful, by the way,” you say, hesitating just a little before asking, “um, what’s your name? so i can leave a good review?”

“oh! yeah, of course. it’s charlie.”

charlie. yeah, that suits him.

“thanks, charlie. i really appreciate it.”

“anytime.”

—

you call back the next day.

you shouldn’t. there is no reason to. your laptop is fine, perfectly fine, but—

“hello! tech support, how can i help you?”

your heart sinks for a second before you realize it’s not charlie.

“oh, um,” you stammer, scrambling for an excuse. “i, uh, had an issue with my laptop the other day, and i wanted to follow up? i think the guy who helped me was named charlie?”

“oh, charlie! yeah, give me a sec, i’ll transfer you over.”

your stomach does a whole flip before you hear the click of the line transferring.

“hello?”

oh, thank god.

“hey, charlie,” you say, and you hope he doesn’t hear the stupid little smile in your voice. “it’s me. again.”

“oh, hey! did something go wrong with your laptop?”

“yeah, it’s, uh. still kinda acting up.”

lie.

“oh no,” he says, immediately concerned. “what’s it doing now?”

you make something up on the spot, some vague, convoluted problem that doesn’t actually exist, but he still goes along with it. walks you through another set of steps, laughs ok when you struggle, and just—keeps talking to you.

and this time, you swear he’s stalling, too.

—

it becomes a thing. you call every couple of days with some tech issue you made up, and he never questions it, just helps you like normal and talks to you like he’s actually happy to hear your voice. (spoilers: he is)

until the one time you say, “ugh, this laptop hates me,” and he hums thoughtfully before going, “you know, for a laptop that’s given you this many problems, you sure seem to like using it.”

does this mean he knows?

“what?” you say, playing dumb.

“i mean, you’ve had, what, like five different issues this week?” he teases. “i’m starting to think you just like calling tech support.”

heat rushes to your face. “okay, first of all,” you say, indignant. “it was three times.”

“mmhm.”

“second of all,” you start, then stop. because what is your second point? that he’s right? that you do like calling tech support? or, more specifically, that you like calling him?

“whatever,” you mumble instead, hoping he can’t hear how flustered you are.

but if the way he’s laughing is any indication, he totally can.

—

a week later, you take it one step further.

you don’t call this time. you show up.

you made a small google search to find the address of tech co, the store he works at, before stepping inside with a mix of excitement and nerves buzzing under your skin. you don’t even know what he looks like, but somehow, you just know when you see him.

he’s standing behind the counter, light brown hair, slightly messy, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. he’s cuter than you imagined—not just cute, but like, unfairly pretty. and when his eyes meet yours, shining with kindness, you know you made the right call.

“hi,” you say, leaning onto the counter.

“hey,” he says back, smiling. “fancy seeing you here.”

“yeah, well. my laptop broke again,” you say, suppressing a grin.

he raises an eyebrow. “oh, did it now?”

“yeah.. completely fried. tragic, really.”

“oh, so tragic,” he echoes, playing along.

you both know you’re full of shit. neither of you really care.

“so,” he leans in just a little, resting his arms on the counter, closer to you. “now that i’ve seen you in person, should i expect more tech issues? or was this a one time thing?”

you laugh, feeling a little bold. “you think i’d come to your job just to say it’s a ‘one time thing’?”

“i hope not,” he says with a slightly nervous smile.

your heart flips. he’s so cute.

“well, it’s not,” you say, mustering all your courage. “‘cause, you know, i’ve got a real issue that could use your help.”

his grin widens. “mmhm. and what would that be?”

“i need your number. y’know, in case of emergency. i mean, what if my laptop explodes?”

he blinks.

then he laughs—soft, surprised, pleased—before pulling a receipt from the register and scribbling something on it.

when he slides it over, his fingers brush yours, and you think, yeah. totally worth it.

© slcmml