#Stop Sending Your Rich Assholes Here

[lg5]

How goes the plan to destroy the social media platform most journalists use? You let all the right wing trolls back on, like we discussed?

[bet-on-me-13]

Dan is Trigon

So! The Teen Titans had been chasing down a Cult lately, and they had finally managed to track down their main bases location.

Unfortunately, they got there just a bit too late and the Summoning Ritual they had been preforming was finished. The Being they had been calling crawled up and out of the Circle drawn in Blood on the floor.

And Raven felt her heart Stop. Because that Being crawling it's way out of the Summoning Circle looked almost exactly like her Father's True Form. But also different.

Where her Father's hair was a White Flame, this one's hair looked like Freshly Fallen Snow. Instead of her Father's Blood Red Skin, this being had Icy Blue Skin. And most strikingly, In place of her Father's Piercing Red Eyes, this being had Lazarus Green Eyes.

But even with all those changes, she could still the similarities in the Bone Structure, the shape of the Jaw, and most importantly the Untold Power radiating off of them.

Before they could react, the Being turned its attention to the Cultists.

"Who Dares Summon, the Ghost King?"

"We do, Out Lord Pariah Dark! We Beseech Thee, take this unclean world and tear it down! Cleanse the World of its Filth!"

"Oh Goddammit, not again." Said the Being, "Look, Pariah hasn't been in Power for Centuries. I, am Phantom. And I don't do the whole 'Destroy all Worlds' thing, you want your own constellation? I'm your guy. Otherwise? Bite it."

"Bu-But my Lord! We summoned you to-"

"Yeah how about no." Said the unimpressed God, "Here, let me send you guys Home. I'll give you guys some riches or something as compensation, but that's it."

And with that, the God snapped its fingers and the cultists disappeared.

"Now, who are you kids?" He turned to them.

Robin stepped forward, "We are the Teen Titans, and originally we came to stop them from Summoning you. Now, I honestly don't know what to do..."

"Oh, you guys are Heroes! That's interesting, I don't come across worlds with Heroes very often." Said the Ghost King, "The last one was the one with those Revengers or whatever they called themselves. The Spider Totem was fun to talk to, and Thor is always..."

As Phantom mumbled to himself, Raven stepped up. "King Phantom, I have a Question. Why do you resemble the true form or Trigon so closely? As his Daughter, I can recognize your similarities easily, and I was curious."

The King stopped dead.

"...daughter?"

"Oh, yes. Trigon is my father, though obviously I haven't talked to him recently." She explained.

"...that asshole." He said, "How could he not tell me I had a NIECE!?"

Wait what?

[alchemistc]

He's drunk when he sends it. Pissed because Buck won't just let this die. Tired of seeing his name flash across his screen, texts full of anger and sadness and hurt.

I suspect you've already met your last and it's not me he sends, and then turns off his phone and reaches for the bottle of whiskey on his top shelf.

---

If he'd been sober he would have known better. It's not even like it's been a pervasive thought - just an inkling at the start of things that seemed to be completely off base once he got to know everyone better, but looking back... He can see it. The built in life. The steadfast support. The knowledge that they'd always, always have each other's back. The kid who hero worshipped him.

The thing is he's fielding texts from Eddie, too, checking in and then circling around to being so goddamn judgmental that it's like they've coordinated their attacks to give Tommy no room to breathe.

He ended it to save himself from slipping so far under the surface he wouldn't make it back.

The fact that he's lost them both to his own fear is icing on the cake for the demon on his shoulder that keeps trying to remind him that once upon a time he'd fully thought Eddie and Buck were amicable exes.

---

He has to blink to figure out who's standing on his doorstep. The mustache is gone.

"If you meant who I think you mean, you're dumber than you look," Eddie says, and shoulders past Tommy before Tommy can even muster an affronted expression.

Tommy wanders after Eddie into his own kitchen, immediately annoyed that he looks more at home there than Tommy has felt in weeks. He'd gotten used to the loft - the space, the echoes, the lights of the city. The smell of his own aftershave on Buck's pillow.

They never spent much time here. The loft was closer - to Harbor, to the 118, to all the things in the city that tempted them out for a night. And staying at the loft meant he wouldn't have the echoes of Buck in every room, around every corner. (The echoes are in him, instead, and he still feels the absence like a lanced wound.) Tommy has always been good at making other people think he's good at putting distance between himself and them.

Eddie digs in a drawer, pulls out the bottle opener shaped like a cow and pops two tops. Holds one out for Tommy and scowls when Tommy wrinkles his nose at the Corona.

"Absolutely screw you if you think I'm driving halfway across town for you just to get the ones you like, right now."

Tommy can't argue that. He takes a drag and swallows. Stares. Is everyone else experiencing whiplash seeing him without the mustache? It looks fine but it'd taken so much fucking work to get used to it and now it's just gone. Clean shaven, an acre of skin he hasn't seen in months.

Tommy blinked and the entire world was different. Tommy freaked and the world changed.

"What are you doing here?"

Eddie's eyebrows both lift, a frank Are You Fucking Serious look on his face that makes Tommy want to take him to the mats and have it out in the garage instead of over beers.

"Buck may be spinning his wheels trying to figure out what the fuck you meant but I know damn well what you were implying."

That seems unlikely. Eddie always seems to be the last person to have a single clue what was going on, with Buck scraping in just before him. It's a tight race.

He used to find it charming.

(He absolutely does not still find it charming, he tells his heart, and wonders if he could hire some tiny asshole gnome to go stomp around in an atrium or two and get it to stop doing what it's doing. Fucking traitor.)

"Do you actually believe that, or is it some dumb excuse because you're terrified of being happy?"

Oh, that's fucking rich.

Tommy opens his mouth to tell him exactly that but Eddie just steamrolls right by him. "You don't have to point out the hypocrisy, jackass. I'm well aware of my own issues. Thing is - you're like, almost right. Buck does make me happy. Next to Chris there's no one else in the world I'd rather have by my side, rain or shine, good or bad. I love him. He's my person."

Tommy rolls his jaw. It's not a vindication to hear it.

"Except I'm not gay, Tommy. And I don't want that. I never have. And neither does Buck, just in case that argument was about to hit the airwaves."

"How do you know?"

Something sparks in the back of Eddie's eyes. Understanding. Triumph.

"You want an itemized list or a demonstration?"

Which is when Tommy knows he's stepped into an absolute minefield. No markers. Just free balling his way through a conversation that could explode with even the slightest pressure.

Eddie's got his phone out.

None of this is ideal.

When he looks up, his eyes land squarely on Tommy, who would like in this moment to be able to curl so far in on himself he gets sucked clean through the other side. "First of all, Buck may have just been improvising his entire journey of sexuality but for once I was trying to get ahead of the curve so that whole starry-eyed newly not straight vision you have of Buck is bullshit. You let him pull you along by the shirt strings for months without pressing pause and then you freak out when he thinks his speed and your speed are the same speed?"

This is feeling a whole lot like an ambush, now.

"Did you ever even try to slow him down?"

Tommy has some choice words that aren't remotely appropriate to say to someone who is at least tangentially still his friend, so he takes another swig of shitty beer. God, this shit is awful.

"You wanna know how I know I'm not his one? How I know he's not mine?"

Tommy really, really doesn't. Honestly he'd like to kick him out.

"Because he went at our friendship at the same warp speed pace he took your relationship and it never fucking scared me."

Proof in the pudding, for Tommy. He's not the sort of jackass who actually thinks he can make a different judgement call on someone else's sexuality than the one they've made themselves, but come on.

"Shannon's been dead for half a decade," Eddie says, voice dropping so suddenly Tommy feels it like an icy draft. "And maybe one day I'll make my peace with that. Maybe one day I'll get out from under it. The point is I've lost them both and the loss wasn't the goddamn same."

"Buck came back," Tommy argues.

Eddie scoffs. Wrinkles his nose. "Jeez, he wasn't kidding about how weird that sounds." His phone buzzes on the countertop, and Tommy wonders what the hell that look on his face means. "Don't change the subject. I'm not here to talk you into anything. I'm just here to drink a beer with you and tell you how goddamn stupid it is to think that an uncertain future with Evan Buckley isn't worth every second of terror it causes you."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

Eddie tips the bottle against his lips. Swallows. God, why hadn't Tommy just pursued the self-proclaimed straight guy for a couple weeks before he scratched the itch somewhere else and kept a friend, instead?

"Maybe." Eddie tips his head. "Maybe I do, though. Maybe in the months and months you were invited to all my mopey nights in with Buck and all the crazy crap we end up involved in at the station and all the times you couldn't shut up about him when he wasn't around and all the times I got to see you falling ass over teakettle for my best friend, I learned a fucking thing or two about Tommy Kinard." He wags his head back and forth. "Maybe."

"Is there a point to this?"

Eddie tips his eyes to his phone, and it's probably too late at this point for the suspicion to begin to creep in.

"I mostly just came to confront you about your completely off base bullshit excuses, but there's actually a pretty simple solution to at least one of your multitude of issues, so. Now we're waiting."

Tommy doesn't like the sound of that at all.

"Chris is mad at you, by the way."

It's a distraction. It's fully a - "Why is he mad at me?"

"I should actually thank you, because it's the first time he's actively talked to me in months," Eddie continues, like Tommy hadn't asked a question. "He's pissed because Buck is sad and there's literally nothing in the world that gets a rise out of the Diaz boys like sad Buck."

"You can just say you're pissed at me and go, Eddie."

"Oh I'm angry. Don't think I'm not. Mostly I'm just sad for you. You had six months to get to know Buck and never thought to yourself 'hes going to love me and it's going to hurt' until he skipped too far ahead in the program."

And that's - kind of the final straw. He's let Eddie get his licks in. He deserves it, he knows he does. Honestly it's a little cathartic to hear - to know exactly what Buck has spent his time dissecting post-Tommy. "That's all I ever thought about. Do you think I didn't know going in? I tried to put a stop to it before it even started and he just doubled down! Do you think for a second I wasn't viscously aware that I was setting myself up for -."

No. He's not gonna say it. He's not giving that to Eddie when he couldn't even give it to Ev-Buck. When he couldn't give it to Buck.

Eddie looks victorious anyway.

"And for six months you thought it was worth it."

"For six months I was too much of a coward to stop thinking about it."

Eddie drains the rest of his beer. "I'm not gonna lie. You screwed up pretty bad. Like. Astronomically bad. Giving up your location in a firefight bad."

Tommy does everything he can not to wince.

"It's salvageable, though. If you want it to be. If there's anything I know about Buck it's that second chances are his bread and butter." He's been dancing around saying anything of substance about Buck's feelings, in all of this, but the hints are there. As if the bouts of angry-depressive texts from Buck weren't clue enough.

"And what if it's not what I want?"

Eddie's eyes dart to his phone one more time. "Then you can make it a clean break in about ... three and a half minutes."

Tommy nearly tosses his beer across the room.

[irndad]

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

[yuujispinkhair]

Hey Winter, babe, what are your thoughts in Dad! Sukuna? I can't stop wondering what type of dad he would be🥺

Aww hey babe 💗 I love Dad!Sukuna! It always makes me weak to think about him!! 💗💗

The first part of this post can be read for any version of Sukuna: King of Curses, Trueform, modern!Sukuna. The second part is specifically about modern CEO!Sukuna. My blog and some of the linked stories are 18+. Minors please don't interact.

Dad!Sukuna is this big, intimidating man who becomes so soft for his child. He is terrified the first time he holds his baby in his hands. It's so tiny, so fragile, so helpless. Sukuna isn't the type to make himself vulnerable, but he did so by allowing you in his heart and falling in love with you. And now you gave him a baby! You made something grow out of your shared love, and now he holds his baby, his and your baby, who has your eyes and his hair, and it makes him so scared.

Such a tiny, helpless little being, who is his responsibility, his to shelter and to protect in this big and dangerous world. This is the next level of vulnerability. Sukuna knows he will do anything to protect his child and his wife.

It gives Dad!Sukuna sleepless nights in the beginning. He gets up several times each night to sneak over to the small bed and sit next to it to make sure the little one is still breathing, and everything is alright. His large hand trembles when he caresses the soft hair on his child's tiny head.

This huge, strong man is so careful and gentle when he holds his baby in his arms. His eyes keep staring at it, disbelief in them because he still can't comprehend how this miracle happened. He never thought he would be the type to want kids, and now look at him!

Modern CEO Sukuna as a dad:

I love to imagine Sukuna as a girl dad. He is the type to raise a spoiled little brat-princess. Her wish is daddy's command. He buys her any toy she wants, and her closet is overflowing with the cutest clothes. The little princess wants to eat ice cream at eight in the morning? Ok, sure, daddy will drive to her favorite ice cream parlor with her. And if they tell him they are still closed at this time, Sukuna will convince them to open earlier just for his princess. Either with a generous amount of money or with threatening to send some food inspectors over to ruin the ice cream palor's reputation.

Sukuna is also the type of dad who is feared by every teacher because he is such an asshole at those teacher-parent meetings. He keeps calling the school and complaining and threatening them with consequences anytime his little princess has a bad grade or gets into any kind of trouble.

And he is just as bad at his daughter's sports events. Sukuna is ambitious and so proud of his little princess and super protective, so yeah, a lovely combination for any tournament ;) Catch him on the sidelines voicing his opinion to the coaches because he knows better, of course! And getting into fights with the referee, and snapping at the parents of the other kids when one of their children dares touch his princess.

Sukuna is a powerful man with endless riches, so he knows how to use his influence to make sure his little girl only gets the best.

Here are some of my other Dad!Sukuna drabbles/stories:

Dad!Sukuna when his little princess grows up and wants to date someone and get married

Dad!Sukuna vs future son in law Gojo

Trueform!Sukuna holding his newborn baby for the first time

Dilf!Sukuna

Sukuna + lactation kink

[star-suh]

Blackmail

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

cw: top mingyu, rough sex, blackmailing, mingyu is a father as if he has a kid and a wife and an asshole too, toxic masculinity(?) is just a comment mingyu says),cheating, y/n is a closeted gay, car sex, feminization, unprotected sex, tummy bulge.

an: so i finally could finish this but my perfectionism is telling that could've been better lol.

—

y/n is a teacher at the local high school and one of his students is a pain in the ass, not paying attention, throwing paper balls, bothering his classmates. one day fed up with this, y/n scolds him "hey you brat, what are you doing?. you think just because your parents have money you can do whatever you want?", "hell yeah" the bastard replied cockily. y/n just laughed and rolled his eyes "you're a typical daddy and mommy's boy hiding insecurities behind all that money… so i ask you to leave the classroom and go to the principal. oh and you can't come back to class until your parents come do you hear me?" yelling that last one part. the boy told that to his parents overexaggerating things so they can 'punish' the teacher. mingyu, the dad, decided to investigate about him and use that information as a way to blackmail him, he found out that y/n frequents a gay bar and after that he always leaves with a man to a motel.

"hello mr. kim" welcomed the teacher "i told you to come here to talk about your son's behavior. he's very disrespectful towards me and his classmates and that's not ok" mingyu was just listening to everything with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed "that's all?" he laughs "here mr. y/n" mingyu handles an envelope to y/n he opens it and it's full of pics of him with men and there's even a flash drive "your blowing skills are good mr. y/n how much do you think this would cost?" he asks tapping the object.

"please don't spread these pics anywhere.. i beg" said the teacher scared "i won't say something to your son ever again.. or… or if you want i can leave the school ye-yeah that's it i'm quitting the job here just… just destroy this pics please" y/n grabbed the man by the hands "why you're so worried about this? you could be a good star in the porn world". "no one knows about it" y/n lowered his head "please… no one needs to know this…" his hands were shaking trying to convince mingyu. "so you'll do everything i want right?" mingyu tapped his chin with his fingers "listen i will talk to my son and tell him to behave a little more but in exchange you have to met me tomorrow night, give me your number i'll send you the address later" mingyu winks and leaves…

y/n was now sitting besides mingyu in his car, "so what do you want me to do?" asked a sad y/n, mingyu passed his phone to y/n in where his video was playing "watching that video got me so fucking hard" he palmed the growing bulge on his pants he then unzipped it and pull his cock out "i want to feel that pretty mouth of yours around my cock too. suck it" he whispered guiding y/n towards his cock, "fuck so wet and warm" grunted mingyu, y/n started to feel dizzy smelling mingyu's musky cock. "such a perfect cock" muttered y/n worshiping every vein, the thick shaft, the size of it, "look at you, I thought you would put on a fight but you already gave in to me. pathetic bitch" laughed the rich man who started to mouthfuck y/n at a harsh pace.

some minutes have passed and mingyu's cock was dripping with y/n's thick saliva, mingyu stopped y/n from sucking his balls "c'mon let's go to the back seats" there mingyu discarded his pants and leaned on his back "let me taste that used pussy" y/n obeyed an accommodate himself in a 69 position so he can keep sucking mingyu while he eat his ass out. mingyu started with doing circles with his fingers on y/n's rim, then spat on it and introduced the first finger "mmh is indeed warm" then he introduces a second finger.. the third and lasty a fourth one all of them knuckles deep going in and out "i'm started to get why everyone on that bar wants this pussy is so fucking tight. more than my wife's" mentioned mingyu, "hngh" moaned y/n with his mouth full of cock. grabbing him by the waist mingyu lifted y/n and started to eat his ass enjoying how it clenchez every time he introduces his tongue "such a tasty manpussy"...

mingyu groped y/n's chest and started playing with his nipples, tweaking and pinching them to get those pretty moans out of y/n's mouth then used his mouth to lick and bite them 'he's moaning a lot… i guess this is a sensitive part for him… kinda like it' thought mingyu.

now tapping his cock's head on y/n's clenching hole mingyu was getting ready to pound him "please wait… use a condom i've never done it without one" pleaded y/n, "fuck off you're not the one in charge here i'm gonna breed your manpussy you like it or not" mingyu grunted putting the cock's tip already inside "that also means that i'm gonna mark this pussy as mine" an in one thrust he put it all at once forming a bulge on y/n's lower tummy "woah look at that" he laughed "you're took it balls deep not like my wife she can barely take half of it" he whispered that last part licking a stripe from y/n's nipple to his ear. both stayed like that for a moment until mingyu started to move every thrust being harsher than the last one "please be more gentle" squirmed y/n pressing his hand against mingyu's stomach trying to stop him but he quit it "don't be boring dude, you're a man just endure it and let me enjoy your pussy" he then pulls out and spat on his shaft and sucked y/n's hole introducing his cock right after repeating the action during some minutes.

"tell me how it feels" demanded mingyu putting his hand around y/n's neck, applying some pressure and moving his hips quite gently to make y/n feel good "it's sooo big… it feels so good how it stretches me… i like.. i like how it is throbbing inside me… can't wait to feel your cum" that's when mingyu realized y/n was already his. "so you want my cum inside you that bad huh?. what a whore. then be my side pussy and i'm gonna pump you up every day with my warm sperm" a dizzy y/n just kissed mingyu as a way to said yes, he was desperate, mingyu is making him feel things no one ever has. y/n knew what he was doing was wrong but the pleasure was immense… he just wanted more and more.

mingyu was now fucking y/n in a quite uncomfortable doggy style position pressing the bottom's head against the window with his hand, traces of saliva and sweat being smeared in the glass everytime mingyu thrusted harshly. with a loud grunt and a last hard thrust mingyu came inside y/n “don't you dare to waste any drop you whore. keep it all inside your pussy” the top rode his high with a couple of last thrusts.

he pulls out and start using his fingers to scoop the cum and put it back inside the gaping hole, savouring the delicious wet sounds “you have a taste pussy professor. glad it's all mine now… right?” mingyu licked his ear waiting for his response, “yeah�� it's the only thing that comes out of y/n's mouth, his tired self just enjoying mingyu's breath ghosting over his neck. “good boy” mi gyu added kissing his forehead and then driving towards a hotel.

the next day y/n woke up in a hotel room, his lower back in so much pain with a note on his side that reads a number that y/n calls “hello?”, “good morning slut” mingyu's sexy voice answers “i have some news for you… i won't spread these pictures of you but in exchange i want to keep fucking your pussy, my wife's it's not as thight as yours and also i can breed you as much as i want. so… deal?” y/n hesitates but eventually responds “...deal” hanging up the call while gathering his things to go home. on the other side of the call mingyu just laughs and lick his lips while driving towards his job.

[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Meeting him (part I)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

You can find the reader's origin story here.

Warnings: no proof reading, eat the rich baby kind of vibes, reader is uncomfortable at first, not impressed!reader, language, deep down Bruce is the kind of guy who likes to be bullied by a pretty girl

When your boss picked you to go to Bruce Wayne’s charity gala, your first thought had been: “Oh I’m going to be such a little nuisance!”.

It was only when you started to wonder how to dress, that you realised that the event was actually being a nuisance for you. You took so much time trying to decide what to put on, what kind of makeup and hairstyle to do. You knew appearances were important, and you didn’t want to be at your disadvantage in such a place.

And yet, even if you had put on your best dress, your best shoes and your favourite jewels that your grandma gave you right before her death, you felt… cheap.

You were clearly out of place and you knew that people were looking at you from the corner of their eyes. You were getting uncomfortable. But you went to Falcone’s events when you were a child and you knew one thing: when you are among vultures, you can show no weakness. So you tried to keep you back straight and to look like you were doing great. There was no way you would give the joy to all those rich assholes to make you run away. It was only fueling your hate against them. 

You had thought you were going to eat and drink well at this gala, but all this money disgusted you too much to actually enjoy yourself. You saw too many people dying from hunger in the streets to be able to bear any of this. 

You were looking around, taking mental notes of everything before you felt a presence behind you. You turned around and were greeted by a tall and broad man, wearing the nicest suit you ever witnessed. He gently smiled at you but you saw it didn’t fully reach his eyes. It was just a polite act. You instantly recognised the dark hair and the blue eyes. You hadn’t thought Bruce Wayne was that big though. 

It didn’t mean you were impressed. 

Not one bit. 

The man seemed to observe you with interest - probably because you weren’t all over him at the instant you saw him - before extending his hand for you to shake.

“Good evening, you must be Mrs L/N.” he kept smiling

“Indeed, Mr. Wayne. I guess it wasn’t very difficult to spot me in this crowd” you said as you shook his hand politely. 

“What do you mean?” he asked

“Oh don’t pretend, I know I’m not dressed as nicely as your usual guests.” you replied.

You perceive a little glitter of curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Bruce Wayne was probably not used to being talked to like that, especially from women. But you weren’t afraid or impressed by anyone. How could you when your past was full of dangerous people? Bruce Wayne seemed to think of a proper reply before deciding to be honest and he nodded his head.

“I’m grateful your newspaper agreed to send someone. I know you do not have a very good opinion of me, which I absolutely respect. I’ve read the paper you wrote about me last week, about the fact that my company took part in the destruction of the Amazonian forest and in child labour in poor countries. It was truly an impressive work of research and I’m thankful you saw it, wrote about it and published it. I had been too busy with different projects to realise any of this was happening. I would have appreciated it if you had let me know first hand though.” he told you to which you raised an eyebrow

“And? Did anything change?” you replied

“Indeed. I want to let you know that all of this stopped and that I’m doing everything I can do to repair the bad my company caused. It won’t happen again. I promise.” He said and you could tell he was sincere or at least trying to sound like he was.

“Good. At least you take responsibility. And if anything else happens again, I’ll be there to make sure you do know about it.” you hummed which cause the ghost of an amused smile to appear on Bruce’s face

“I don’t worry about it indeed.” he paused. “By the way, you write very well. I’m glad to be able to put a face on such… sharp and true words” he added, and you let him show how surprised you were

“People don’t usually like my sharp words” you shrugged but you were yourself getting quite curious about the man now.

“It did hurt quite a bit but… I wish that my spokesperson would write that well. Or that I would myself have such a way with words. At least it helped me to see the truth and… Well it was quite refreshing. People don’t usually talk about me that way, or just about my last nightstand.” he explained

“Oh yes, don’t worry, I really don’t care with whom you slept last night as long as you didn’t abuse or rape them” you smiled and Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened before he let out a very amused laughter.

“I didn’t think your words were also that sharp in person” he commented “Do you want us to go somewhere else a little less noisy so you could do the interview you had prepared?” he offered to which you agreed.

On one hand, you were surprised with how the evening went by.

Your first disgust for the man started to change into real curiosity. You were still unimpressed by him, but you could tell there was something more than just the rich philanthropist playboy act. Bruce Wayne had secrets. But unlike usual people, you didn’t seem to be able to find a way for him to spill them for you. Something was unsettling about him. You wanted to discover so badly what was going on; you were a curious cat.

On the other hand, Bruce Wayne quickly understood that not only were you good with words, you were also good at asking the right questions. More than once, he was about to let go of his “Brucie” persona because of how smart your interrogations about him or his enterprises were. At some point, you were even met by silence because the man had no idea how to answer your question about all the “toys” that Wayne Enterprises was producing and yet never let the army, the police or the government use. Actually, you were wondering who was buying those equipments and why it was so difficult to find who it was. Bruce asked you how you knew about this and you let him know you dug into his financial reports. 

His silence was a challenge for you. 

As the discussion kept going on, you realised you now wanted to know everything about the man, his real personality and all his secrets. The persona he was using in public was pure bullshit. You might have rolled your eyes at him once or twice.

Bruce tried his best to not react, but deep down he had no idea what to do. He had thought it was going to be an easy interview and that once he would have you sit down with him alone, he would have been able to manipulate you, so you could finally write something nice about him. He realised he had never been more wrong in his whole life. He also realised that the more he was feeding you his usual answers to journalists, the more you were pressing the subjects. He just couldn’t make you believe him and his sweet little lies. He couldn’t charm you either. Bruce could also tell that his attitude got the exact opposite reaction he wanted from you. He wanted you to relax around him, but as time passed, the more you were eyeing him as if you were certain that he was a lot darker and a lot more dangerous than he wanted everyone to believe.

Bruce hated to admit it but he found you incredibly attractive. 

Of course you were beautiful, but you were also so smart and observant. You were ruthless to him, in a polite manner which was even worse. You were merciless; you were asking the questions you had to ask, without care for his ego. He didn’t know if he should ask you out on a date or ask you to work for him. At some point, he managed to finally say something that made you laugh (it was a self derogatory comment) and he decided on the first option. 

A part of his mind knew he was playing with fire with you. Still, he asked you out. 

You thought about refusing at first, but then agreed. You needed to know what the great Bruce Wayne was hiding. For you, it wasn’t a “real” date, it was just part of your work.

At the end of the interview, you were more than happy to come back home, your head full of new theories about the man.

Alfred joined Bruce, surprised his master was still sitting down fifteen minutes after your departure.

“How did it go, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked

“Awfully” Bruce replied “Asked her out though, and she said yes” he added

“I’m not too certain if that’s a good thing or not, Master Bruce” Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow

“I don’t know either” Bruce hummed

Bruce Wayne fell asleep that night, wondering what the fuck happened tonight and wondering why he was so excited to see you again.

--

PART 2

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

Taglist for this series <3

@esposadomd

[sanguineterrain]

i'm sure you have plenty of requests, but do you write part 2's/continuations of blurbs?? bc i'm FULLY invested in the bodyguard!jason au and i need to know what else transpires in their time together. does he read to the reader?? does reader take him clubbing with him subsequently losing them in the crowd?? is he their unofficial date to the countless galas and social gatherings they're invited to?? what is their sleeping arrangement? the people demand politely request answers!

the people shall get their answers!

bodyguard!jason todd x gn!reader. pt 2 to this. tw reader punches a rich asshole, pining, tension, etc. jason is a sweetheart as always! all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

Galas suck.

You swish champagne in your glass and watch it fizz. Then you do it again. And again.

A man's loud laughter carries over the delicate string quartet. You glower in his direction for a second. Then you rest your head on the wall behind you.

"I'm bored to tears, Red," you say.

Hood is playing wallflower with you, except he actually has an excuse.

"To tears, huh?" he says. "Maybe you should try being social. I believe that's what these shindigs are for."

Your head lolls in his direction, brows rising. "That's pretty rich coming from you. You're the least social person I know."

"Well, I do shoot people for a living. Tends to put others off. Go figure."

You stop a passing waiter and pluck a vegetable croquette from tray, then pop it into your mouth. "You haven't shot anybody in months."

Hood sighs. "Yeah. Sad stuff."

"You could shoot somebody here."

"Not without good reason," he says.

"How 'bout for being an entitled, elitist prick?"

"I'm afraid I need a little more reason than that. For legal purposes. But I do love shooting entitled, elitist pricks."

"Fine. Give me the gun."

Hood hums. "I think I'm a bad influence on you, trouble."

"You're the best influence on me," you say. "Give me your gun. I can be trusted."

"That's a negative."

You finish the croquette and edge closer to him, your shoulders touching. You tap him on the shoulder. He leans in, ear near your mouth.

"Ye-es?" he asks, eyes flicking to you. Wow. You've never gotten used to Hood's laser focus on you.

"What if I said you're the wind in the trees and the music of the birds and all of my dreams come to life?" you ask, only exaggerating a little.

"I'd probably check for a concussion," says Hood. You can tell he's smiling behind his mask.

"What if I said you're too sexy for your shirt?"

"Hm. Can't disagree there. Still no gun, though."

"Bastard."

Hood bumps your shoulder and straightens. "Sorry, trouble. Looks like we'll have to soldier through without sending anyone to Emergency."

You suck your teeth. "Man. Will you dance with me, at least?"

Hood snorts.

"I'm not joking," you say. "I headcanon you to have secret waltz and tango skills."

"You headcanon me?"

"Yes. I write headcanons about you on my blog." You gulp down the rest of your champagne. "So, what do you say?"

"Dancing isn't in my job description, trouble. 'Sides, there's plenty virile, eligible bachelors here for you to rumba the night away with."

You wrinkle your nose. "Who describes people as virile? They're not lab mice."

"Sorry." Hood clears his throat, then cocks his hip. "They're hot and totally into you!" he says in a peppy voice. "Better?"

You shiver. "Don't do that again. Gave me the heebie jeebies."

"'Gives the heebie jeebies' is actually on my resume," Hood says. "Right after 'scares the shit out of people.'"

The music slows to a finish. The dancers clap. You groan, leaning against the wall.

"Maybe I can pull the fire alarm," you say.

"Excuse me!"

An old, small man in an expensive suit with white, thin hair struts over. You squint at him as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"Isn't your father that ambassador?" he asks, eyes roving over you. You know that gaze. It's the gaze that's deciding whether or not you're worth speaking to.

"Yes, he is," you say. "May I help you?"

He sniffs. "Terrible business, that. He very nearly cost that young woman her life at that banquet."

Hood brushes past you, stepping forward. "Sir, I need you to back up. Safety measures and all that."

Your jaw tightens. This is literally the last conversation you want to have, talking about your tightass, selfish father. You've done enough of that in therapy.

You hide a smile behind his back.

The man peers at Hood, mouth curling. "What business have you, bringing threatening men like him in here? This is a private event."

You step around Hood. "He's my bodyguard. He's not a threat."

"He certainly looks like one. He's dressed like a hoodlum."

"Hence the name," Hood says cheerfully.

The man sneers. "Those scars of yours are hideous, young man. I can't believe you accompany your charge in public looking like you do."

"What the hell did you say?" you ask, stepping to him. "Huh?"

"Trouble," Hood says quietly, touching your shoulder. "It's fine—"

"No, because what the fuck? Where the fuck do you get off?" you say, invading his personal space. How fucking dare he?

The asshole's bulldog eyebrows rise. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Red's being perfectly professional. Won't even eat the hors d'oeuvres. And you're commenting on his body? Are you insane? Did all that corruption eat your brain?"

His face is now a nice shade of beetroot. Hood clears his throat behind you.

"C'mon, ease up," Hood says. "Don't do this f'me."

"Yes, listen to your mutt," the man says, sneering. "Seems he's got a modicum of sense, unlike you. It looks like all of his house training has a promising future."

Your fist connects with cartilage.

It's a blur after that. Someone pulls you away—Hood—and your now-sworn enemy screams bloody murder, red dripping down his suit. Your hand kind of hurts, and your head really hurts.

Hood herds you through a set of French doors, into a garden. Cool, night air fans your face.

"Well, 'm glad I didn't give you a gun," Hood says, walking you to a bench by the fountain in the center of the garden.

Sweet scents of lilac and rose waft through the air. You look away as Hood carefully inspects your hand.

"Hm. Just a little bruised. No injury."

"I tucked my thumb like you taught me," you say.

"I see. Think you broke his nose."

Is that pride you hear in his voice?

Hood sighs, releasing your hand. "But you shouldn't have done that."

You start to shake, anger shooting through you all over. You curl into yourself.

"I'm not apologizing to that shithead. He's a gutless, no-good, gutter snipe. Nothing under that hideous toupee but air."

Hood laughs. "Easy, Sundance. Y'know guys like him are full of hot air. Surprised you let him get to you. You don't care what those rich assholes say."

You turn around to look at Hood. "Someone had to take him down a peg. What he said was horrible."

"You've heard so much worse, trouble. You take it all with a grin and then get back at 'em later. 'S how you always do it."

"Yeah, well... well, I was sick of what he was saying. He can say all he wants about me, I don't give a shit. But when I'm in the room, no one talks about my bodyguard."

Hood is quiet for a long moment. There's only the sound of the babbling fountain and crickets. You rub your sore hand and stare at a rose bush.

"Y'don't need t'defend me," he says. "People have said far worse, and I definitely don't want you puttin' your reputation on the line for me, trouble."

"Fuck my reputation!" you say, scooting closer to him. "You're important to me, Red. Everyone should know not to say a damn thing about you when I'm around."

He shakes his head. "I'm just your bodyguard."

"No, you're my friend. Right?"

Hood looks up at you. "I—yeah, of course, but—"

"Well, friends defend each other."

"So some rich guy doesn't wanna look at my ugly mug," Hood says. "Big deal."

"You aren't ugly," you say, brow furrowing. "Don't say that."

"Trouble. Sweetness. Look at me. Tyra Banks would call me a lost cause."

"Don't be a dummy, Red. You're hot and mysterious, and you have pretty eyes. You're a fantasy protagonist's wet dream."

Hood leans in. Your heart picks up. Oh, you're nervous. You're getting nervous again. A tornado siren wails in your head. Danger! Danger!

"So you're sayin' I'm too sexy for my shirt?" he asks.

"So sexy it hurts," you say, voice slightly uneven.

"Mm." He looks you over. His lashes are so long. Damn. "Y'haven't even seen my whole face."

"I don't need to," you say instantly. "I'm an excellent judge of good looks."

He laughs. You smile.

"Think you can sneak us out?" you ask. "For my safety, of course."

"Mm, of course." Hood looks over the garden. "Yeah, I think I can manage that."

"I'll get us burgers," you say. "I'm starved."

"Taking me out, huh?"

It's a joke, but God, what if? What if you could go on a date with Hood, without masks or politics? What if you could see his smile? Feel his smile?

"If I did, I'd take you someplace nice," you say. "Not just a burger joint."

Hood is quiet as you go to the edge of the garden and he prepares to get you both over the balcony. He holds out a hand and puts his other on your waist so you can climb. Your faces are close. You smile, a little nervous.

"For the record," he says, not letting go until you're safely on the grass below. "I'd be content eating anywhere with you, trouble."

Hood easily vaults over the balcony, landing on his feet. He gestures with his arm.

"You lead," he says, eyes dancing.

God, you're in so much trouble.

[rebelfell]

Currently being plagued by thoughts of an older!fem!Harrington!reader... 18+, MDNI 1.4k

index here

Like you’re Steve's aunt, late 30s/early 40s.

And you’ve always been kind of a fuck-up compared to your "perfect" older sister who got the good grades and who every guy in school had a crush on; who married the rich, handsome dude and popped out a kid; who lives in this big house in this picture-perfect suburban neighborhood.

And you tried to do all that, too—really, you did. But then your husband ex turned out to be a total asshole, and he's an asshole with a really good lawyer so he's probably gonna get the house.

So you move into your sister's for the summer because they're gonna be in Europe and they’d prefer someone be there to keep an eye on Steve, who's home from college and tends to get a little out of control when he's left unsupervised...

And one day you’re woken up from a nap by the loud, relentless grinding of a lawnmower and look out your window to see the gardener.

He's young. Maybe Steve's age if not a touch older. And he is just…stunning. So Beautiful that it’s hard to look at him, but in your current state, looking at him is about all you can do.

Alabaster skin decorated with black ink, dark curls tied up in a bun to keep them off his sticky neck. Threadbare tank top clinging to his slender frame he's so drenched with sweat from the heat. Arm and leg muscles flexing, glinting with it.

Then suddenly he stops, and his eyes drift to the upstairs window to lock onto yours. You freeze in place, wondering if he can even see you, and just when you’ve convinced yourself he can't...a smile curls across his lips and he raises his hand to wiggle his fingers at you in a wave.

Panic makes you seize and fling away from the window, knocking into your dresser and sending your make-up rolling over the top. And it only hits you now, far too late, that you were just staring at this guy wearing nothing but sleep shorts and a camisole. One that did absolutely nothing to conceal how hard your nipples were.

Jesus Christ—what were you thinking? Staring at this guy like some horned-up teenager?

What is wrong with you?

You yank the curtains closed and hide in your room until you're certain he's gone. And when Steve gets home from work, your hair is still wet from the cold shower you had to take when you couldn't stop imagining what it would be like if instead of mowing the lawn, that guy had come running upstairs to trim your hedges.

Seriously...what the fuck is wrong with you?

Then, a couple days later, the heat spikes to a truly oppressive degree. So you’ve got your suit on, and you’re dancing in the kitchen, stirring up something cool and sweet to sip by the pool, crushing fresh mint to add into the pitcher.

And you hear a splash. A big one.

Your head whips around to look out the window just in time to see that familiar head of dark curls bursting through the surface. He swings his head wildly like a dog, flipping his long hair out of his face before he dunks himself back under.

It's not panic that stops you in your tracks this time, but rage. Because what in the hell is the gardener doing swimming in your sister's pool?

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Your voice is commanding as you storm out onto the pool deck, but your cover-up isn't tied around your waist so it flies open behind you to reveal the shape of your body. And you can’t quite squash the prickle of shame you feel at the thought of this guy seeing all your cellulite up close.

He turns toward you, awfully smiley for someone who just got caught trespassing. And his eyes are bright as he looks you up and down, the rays of sun hitting them just right so his deep brown irises glow like the richest honey.

Nope, nope. You're not gonna be flustered this time. You're not, you're not, you're not—

"Just waiting for you, sweetheart,” he says.

His voice is too smooth for his own good, words dripping from his lips the way water drips from his bangs and runs down his handsome features.

You roll your eyes and feel your hands settle on cocked hips. It's a stance you often find yourself in, wishing it was more intimidating. An inherited trait, you guess, considering how your nephew would stand the exact same way sometimes.

"Since when does the gardener get swimming privileges?" you scoff, eyes narrowing.

He just glances around at the freshly mown lawn, grass looking lush despite the sweltering heat.

"Didn't I do a good job? Don't I deserve a reward?"

The sun beating down overhead would be easy to blame for the way your body gets hot all over just from the way he says it, his brow arching to drive home his meaning, as if you couldn't tell.

"Take that up with your boss when she's back on this side of the Atlantic. For now, you can take a hike before I call the cops.”

A plush pink lip juts out in an exaggerated pout, but he shrugs his shoulders in an admission of defeat. He plants his palms flat on the concrete, forgoing the ladder and the steps to lift himself out of the pool to stand directly in front of you.

Water spills off his pale shoulders, rivulets of it running down the planes of his back and body you have to purposefully tear your eyes away from. He's not even in a bathing suit, just the same pair of shredded black jeans cut off into shorts he mowed the lawn in just days prior.

He's still smirking as he takes one last, long look before he saunters away. And in spite of yourself, you glance over your shoulder to watch him as he goes, your eyes drawn to a tattoo of a broadsword that starts between his shoulders and runs down the full length of his spine, the tip of the blade ending just above the small of his back.

He pauses at the gate, smiling all sly when his eyes shoot back to you, clearly pleased to have caught you ogling him again—and fucking winks.

And he does leave, but now you’re all frustrated and flustered and too pent up to even attempt at relaxing now. So you give up on your swim and go to the store instead, the trip taking far longer than it should because you don't—or can't—stop yourself from thinking about this guy.

You’re certain he has to be messing with you. What else besides an ego boost would a young guy like him get out of flirting with someone like you? A divorcee a decade older than him? Please. He probably had his pick of the litter in a town as small as Hawkins. All dark and wild, mysterious and dangerous and…

God—why did he have to be so hot? It would be so much easier to ignore him if he weren't.

You finally get back home, cranky and tired and struggling under the weight of all your groceries. And when you push open the door and step into the foyer, you freeze in place again.

Because there he is. Splayed out on the couch, his knees spread wide, his long hair a little damp. Smiling at you all pleased with himself, like he’s been waiting for you. Cocky, even.

Like he planned it this way.

It all makes you gape, your mouth hanging open in total disbelief as you drop your bag at the door and draw your breath to snap at him.

"What are you—"

"Hey, you're home!"

Steve cuts you off as he strides into the living room, coming from the kitchen holding a couple of beers. He passes one to the guy on the couch, who's grinning like he ate a whole menagerie of canaries, and Steve nods in your direction.

"This is my aunt I was telling you about."

Those dark brown eyes rove freely over you now, no light shining in them this time as he smiles into the mouth of the bottle he's raising to his lips.

"Hey, there," he says, wiggling those long fingers at you all over again. "I'm Eddie."

index┃next

[warblogs17282]

Still thinking about the Truth Seekers line where Loona said,

"Blitzo was using a total of zero euphemisms, innuendos, or swears. That means it was serious, which means I don't open it until--"

And now, I'm thinking about all the different emotional and heavy-hitting moments from Blitz, but from the lens of that statement, and I'd like to explore that in a little more depth.

Because I feel like looking through some key moments of Blitz through the lens of that statement helps to add another layer of depth to what Blitz has been saying.

S2 E9:

Blitzo: No, I just- This was the final stop on the apology tour I've been on today.

Stolas: Oh, yes, I recall. Everyone but me is getting your cheap apologies tonight, hm? Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you.

Blitzo: Look, how I acted this morning... It was fucked, okay?

Stolas: This morning? Ugh, why did you show up there? Why'd you show up here?

Blitzo: You already asked that, but look, I-I just really need to... To talk to you, to- to explain.

Stolas: Oh?

Blitzo: I've always been real shit at sorries, 'kay? They're for pussies and no one fuckin' deserves them anyway, but I felt maybe you actually needed one.

Stolas: Ooh, lucky me!

Blitzo: Oh, shit. Okay, what I mean is, I said sorry a lot today and, honestly, didn't really mean any of it. Because the only one I wanted to say it to... Was you, Stolas. I just... This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?

Stolas: Blitzo. There is a crowd full of people here, who cared so much, they'd throw an entire fucking party about hating you, every year! Do you know how much you have to care to do something as stupid as that?

Blitzo: Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even know why you would want to be with me.

'I mean you're a fucking prince.' Blitz is technically correct here, but if we consider the Truth Seekers statement, I believe it tells us that Blitz, at least subconsciously, sees Stolas as more than just a prince during this scene, he sees Stolas the man here, not just Stolas the prince. And honestly, that probably makes it hurt more to Blitz, since he's still in disbelief/denial that Stolas has these feelings for him at this point.

Especially considering what it's followed up with, which I'd like to mention doesn't have a single swear word in it whatsoever, telling us even more just how sincere Blitz is when he said that final line.

Verosika: How do you think I felt? When the fun guy I was dating decided to just bail on me because I made the shitty mistake of saying I love... Ugh! It was the most embarrassing feeling. To be vulnerable for once and... you really just know how to send a message in the shittiest, fucking way.

Verosika: The worst part is you still make me feel like a bad person for being angry at you now.

Verosika: But, hosting this party, for everyone else you've dicked over? At least I can help others cope with the shit you did. What? No snarky comeback?

Blitzo: No. You're right. I actually am, ya' know... sorry. I-I don't want to be this way. Not forever.

Verosika: Looks like Stolas is having a good time.

Blitzo: Yeah, well. He needs it.

Again, just pay attention to the fact that Blitz didn't swear once during the part of the conversation I just showed, showing once again even more just how sincere Blitz is being here, to not be the way he is forever, to let Stolas have his good time at the party.

S2 E8:

Blitzo: What?! FUCK you, Stolas! You spring this feelings bullshit on me, are you fucking kidding? Can I get a FUCKING minute to think after everything you put me through, you pompous, rich ASSHOLE?!

Blitzo: Treat me like one of your little butler imps?! You can't just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this EVERY TIME, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as IMPORTANT! Well, I'm not letting you, BITCH! LET'S GO!

Stolas: Blitzo... I think so very highly of you... I didn't realize you think so low of me...

Blitzo: Stolas, wait! I'm s-

You know, the amount of swearing in that part of the episode tells me something, that what Blitz said during the peak of his outburst was exaggerated a little. Does Blitz make some completely valid points during that outburst? Yes. Is what Blitz said during said outburst a bit exaggerated because he was in the heat of the moment? Yes. Both of these can coexist, and I do completely understand why Blitz said what he said during that argument. (I'm not choosing a side on who was in the wrong in the full moon argument here, btw)

And, the lack of swearing when the realisation hits to Blitz of what he's just done, right as he tries to apologise to Stolas just further tells me that Blitz did genuinely mean that 'I'm sorry', he said right before Stolas teleported Blitz out.

S1 E8:

Blitzo: Fuck, Fizz was right. I'm gonna die alone, aren't I? Just a wrinkly, old, withered, waste. Will you be there, Loonie?

Loona: Be...where?

Blitzo: I dunno, jus- ...lonely... Die alone...

Loona: I'll be there, Dad.

Loona: Now go the fuck to sleep... okay?

Blitzo: Millie... Moxxie... Stolas...

Again, pay attention to the lack of swearing in that part of the conversation, minus one 'fuck' at the start of it, it just adds to showing us just how raw and genuine Blitz's emotions are during this scene, showing us that Blitz genuinely believes that he's gonna die alone, and also showing us just how much Blitz still cares about Fizzarolli, Loona, Millie, Moxxie and Syolas.

S1 E7:

Stolas: You know, I have some more wine in the house. Octavia's with her mother this weekend. So, we could--

Blitzo: I'm not fucking you tonight, okay? I'm really just I'm really not in the mood, Stolas.

Stolas: We could talk, or... watch a movie, or... maybe cuddle?

Blitzo: Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time. But, I just, I-I can't do it tonight, okay?

Blitzo: I'm sorry.

Stolas: Okay. Goodnight, Blitzo.

Blitzo: Night.

What I find interesting here is that the two times the word 'fuck' is used throughout this scene, it's used to replace the word 'sex', so thinking about this scene through the lens of that statement, it shows us even more just how much Blitz believes in what he's saying, especially when he says "Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time."

Finally, S1 E6:

Moxxie: Do you remember what you said to me after my first day with the company?

Blitzo: ...Not really.

Moxxie: I remember. You told me I did a good job and that you were proud to work with me. I feel like you wanted to say something more judgmental, but... you said that because I needed it... And it helped.

Blitzo: Look, I'm hard on you, because I know what you're capable of, Mox. You care too much about what everyone thinks except for... me, because, y'know, my opinion is correct, but just... keep doing a good job. 'Kay? You shoot 'n kill good, you escape things easy... you can be strategic and cold-blooded when you need to, aaaand don't expect any more compliments; I'm maxed out.

Moxxie: Thank you, sir.

Blitzo: You know my name... Use it.

Moxxie: Thanks, Blitzo.

No euphemisms, innuendos or swears, showing us that when Blitz was talking to Moxxie in this scene, that he was 100% being serious in what he said.

So in conclusion: I have shown multiple examples where if you think about them through the lens of the statement "Blitzo was using a total of zero euphemisms, innuendos, or swears. That means it was serious, which means I don't open it until--", you start to see more depth within those examples I have shown in this post.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 2

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 2

Word Count: 4816

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Here's chapter 2! We're still setting up the stage to more exciting events coming up! It's time for Shanks' surgery now.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555

Masterlist

|Chapter 1| | |Chapter 3|

“What do you know about Dr. Law?” Sipping your coffee you stare at Nami, trying to hide the curiosity gnawing at your brain. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about the handsome dark-haired doctor since the appointment two days ago. When you slipped him your number, you unconsciously hoped he would send you a text or give you a call, but then again, why would he? You gave him your number for professional reasons and, despite all the fun teasing when you were with him, you know he’s very professional at his job. 

Also, you knew Kaya would be able to answer any and all lingering questions you might have about him, but Kaya was too invested in trying to set you up and, as attracted as you felt to him, you didn’t really want to act on it.

It was just curiosity.

Right?

“Dr. Law? From the clinic?” Nami placed a finger on her chin as her eyes wandered to the ceiling. “Well, he’s a very good doctor but he’s not very sociable. I think Luffy knows him and they get along well. But he doesn’t party very much. He drinks a lot of coffee - I think Sanji can vouch for that - but he doesn’t hang around coffee shops. He keeps to himself, mostly.” She sighed. “Maybe you should ask Kaya? She sees him on a daily basis! Oh, Robin might answer some questions for you too, they worked together on some paper for a science magazine a while ago.”

Damn it. Not one drop of interesting information. Only that he wasn’t a social butterfly. Shrugging, you nodded and were about to change the subject when Nami’s brow rose. “Why?”

You tried to hide your blush behind the coffee mug. “Oh, no big deal! He’s my dad’s doctor and he’s going to be the one performing his back surgery, should he agree to it. I just wondered how good of a doctor he really was. He seemed professional but you never know!” She was still watching you closely. You were rambling, so you shut up with another sip of coffee. 

“Riiiight.” Her smirk grew. “I’ll pretend to believe you. But I want all the information when things progress between you two!”

-*-

Another two days go by without any exciting news and, somehow, you manage to push Law to the back of your mind, what with the constant scolding of your father’s terrible seating habits, all the helping around the property, and a part-time job Nami had recommended to you at her firm. It was basically sorting files and organising old data and, despite Nami’s assurance that it was mind-numbing, boring work, you secretly loved it.

Because, as Law perfectly diagnosed, you are a bit of a control freak. 

Now that you are back to thinking about him, you remember him telling you that he had a few tips for you to let go and relax. Was he talking about everyday tips or… intimacy tips? Because his tone of voice had suggested something else. 

You are wound up so tight that the thought of relaxing in someone’s care is-... exhilarating. 

Fortunately the buzz of your phone wakes you from your reverie and, patting the cow in front of you on the hind, you walk away from the barn while picking up the call.

“Hello?”

The deep voice calling your name on the other side brings shivers down your spine. It’s Law. “Is this a good time to speak?”

“Yes!” You shake your head and inhale deeply. “Sorry, I was doing some chores for my dad. It’s fine, I’m fine. I mean… yes, you can speak.” Fuck. Once again you wonder what is it about his voice that makes you weak in the knees and dumb in the head?

The vibrato of his chuckle doesn’t have the same effect on you over the phone, but it’s still very endearing. “I’m calling because I’ve managed to check your notebook and I would like to arrange a house call so we can surprise your father.”

Ah, the ambush! You are ready for that. Shanks isn’t.

“I think he will be working around the property all day this week. I won’t be available in the mornings, though. If you can manage a visit in the afternoon, it would work best.”

He hums on the other side and you sit down on a hay bale. Can there be a way to avoid being affected by a tone of voice? Would online research help? “I can make it tomorrow, if that works?”

“Yes! I’m open for you.” You almost bite your tongue as your hand slaps your head. “My schedule is open for you! My schedule!” You bet that if you could see his face, the man would be smirking.

There’s definitely amusement in the tone of his voice. “Tomorrow it is, then.” 

You say your goodbyes and put the phone away as you groan in frustration. How dumb can you be, really?

-*-

When you get home from your part-time job, your organisational needs fulfilled for the day, your father tells you that Ace had come by to help and all the chores were taken care of, so he’s heading out to Beckman’s for beers and to watch the football game.

“No! No, no!” You quickly grab your phone and text the number from which Law called, hoping it’s his personal, or at least professional phone and that he’s carrying it with him now. You quickly say your dad is about to leave and he needs to come ASAP.

Then you turn to Shanks with a pained smile. “Dad, the car is giving me trouble again and I need your help. Teach me how to get it to work effortlessly every time!”

Shanks sighs and looks at his watch. “Fineee. The game doesn’t start for another four hours anyway.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you scrunch your nose. “Four hours? Then why the hell are you going there so early?”

Shanks guffaws. “Pre-game drinks, bug! Why else?” Rolling your eyes to the back of your head, you make your way outside to your car. You keep pestering Shanks about different things, trying to buy your time and, slowly, pissing him off inadvertently, until you spot a fancy car coming up the driveway. 

“Oh, thank God.” You mutter, having exhausted all your car-related questions in your arsenal. 

“Thank God, what? Who’s that?” Shanks closes the door of your car and tilts his head sideways. Once he sees the driver, he groans. “An ambush?” His glare could almost burn holes into you.

“Sorry, Shanks. It’s the only way you’ll speak with Dr. Law! You will undergo that surgery. It’s for your own good!”

Your dad still tries to escape, but as soon as he witnesses the scowl on Law’s face, he stops trying to struggle and resigns himself to the situation. Law is dressed casually without his doctor’s coat on: black t-shirt and again with those cute, spotted jeans. He’s so tall and lean, with defined muscles, but nothing too big. And the tattoos… paired with the earrings and the rebel goatee, they almost make you want to squeal. This man is too damn hot to be walking around.

He says your name as he leaves the car with a sly smile and then turns to your dad. “Mr. S. Hi. So sorry for the ambush, but you wouldn’t come to me, so I had to come to you. I’m told we’re going through with the surgery and I’m here to explain everything.”

Shanks groans and you chuckle. “Let’s go inside, I’ll make coffee.” 

Law’s ears perk at that, as you knew they would, and now you’re feeling the pressure of making a good cup of coffee. Fortunately, you’ve just stocked up on some amazing roasted coffee beans that Sanji recommended, and they truly make a delicious brew. 

-*-

Two and a half hours are all it takes for Law to go over the questions in your notebook. He compliments your organisational skills with a slight smirk, and a teasing remark about you trying to control everything, but you try to ignore his tone and he continues. 

He also answers all of your father’s sillier questions, even the one where he asks if he would lose function of any necessary limbs - you know what he’s referring to and you just shake your head at him - but Law handles it very professionally.

By the end, Shanks seems to be a bit more at ease with the whole process - and frankly, so are you - so he agrees when Law says he’ll schedule all necessary pre-surgery exams and the surgery itself.

Shanks leaves in a hurry to go and meet Beckman because the game should be starting in under two hours and he’s not nearly tipsy enough to watch his team lose. Thanking Law, he leaves you two alone telling you not to wait up for him.

Sighing, you get up from your chair to collect the empty coffee mugs. “That went well!” You can’t hide a soft smile from gracing your lips. Law gets up too as he helps you by grabbing his mug and a plate with cookies you had set out, and follows you to the kitchen.

“It really did. I’ll let you both know when the exams and the surgery are scheduled. His jitters will come back, but, if we’re lucky, only on surgery day. He’s going to be fine.”

You finish placing the dirty mugs in the sink and turn to him, leaning on the counter slightly and nodding your head with a weary smile. “Yes, yes, I know. He’s in good hands.”

Law approaches and, reaching behind you, places his dirty mug in the sink, his body a breath away from yours. You can almost feel his own breath in your ear, just for a moment, before he pulls back and steps away from you.

You release the breath you barely realised had been trapped as he keeps eye contact with you. “Thank you for the coffee you made for me. It was delicious.”

“I…” The praise! The damned praise! It turns your legs into jelly and leaves your tongue tied. You have to clear your throat before you manage to utter a full sentence. “Thank you. Sanji said it was a very good quality bean and I followed his instructions.”

His smirk disarms you as much as his praise and he partners it with a slight chuckle and by crossing his arms over his chest. “And do you always follow instructions that well?”

Oh… cheeky.

“Not always. It depends on the instructions. I tend to be a bit of a brat, sometimes.” You respond in kind to his teasing and, as you notice the glint in his eyes and the slight bob of his throat, you don’t regret it one bit. 

“Interesting.”

The look you give each other feels charged with tension, electrical, almost. Again, this was supposed to be a professional visit. Why do the two of you keep playing this dangerous game of teasing each other?

Are you willing to push the game further?

You wouldn’t mind trying a few naughty things with the doctor, but then again, you came to the Calm Belt to get your mind off romantic affairs and help mend your broken heart. 

But then again… this wouldn’t be romantic… just a bit of fun. And don’t they say that rebound sex is good for broken hearts?

Your wandering thoughts are cut short by an insistent beep from Law’s pager. He grunts and grabs it, glancing at it before sighing. “It’s the hospital. I have to go. We’ll keep in touch, okay?”

Yeah you wouldn’t mind that… keeping in touch…

“Yes! We’ll wait for the exam confirmations. Thank you for all your help.” You say while accompanying him to the door. 

As he descends the steps of the porch, he glances back to give you one last smirk, the tension of your previous moment still hovering above you both. “You did very well with that notebook. It was very thorough and neatly organised.” 

Your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks flush with colour. Law opens the door to his car and gazes at you, burning you with his stare. “I can’t wait to witness how you act when you stop trying to control everything and just… surrender.”

His voice is low, teasing and commanding. Laced with a promise of something more, something else, a not so subtle invitation to a very enticing what if. As his car rides up the driveway, you’re left standing in the doorway, your pulse quickening, even though he’s long gone. 

-*-

The day of the surgery finally arrives and you’re sure that your father didn’t sleep a wink. And neither have you. You shower and get dressed and when you get downstairs, he’s sitting by the kitchen chair looking very pale and worried.

“Morning, dad.” Shanks can’t eat or drink anything pre-surgery so you fill your coffee cup and stuff an apple in your purse for later. “How are you feeling? Get any sleep?”

Shanks groans. “I’m terrible, bug. I didn’t sleep a wink.”

You smile as you reach and hug his shoulders from behind. “It’s okay, daddy. You’ll sleep under anaesthesia.” He doesn’t laugh as you hoped he would, so you try to reassure him. “Dr. Law is very good at his job, dad. You’ll be in and out in an instant. Everything will be alright! Plus, I’ll be there waiting for you, okay?”

You asked for days off work to help a family member and arranged with Ace to feed the animals on the property, so you’re covered. All you have to do is worry nonstop in a hospital waiting room while your father is being operated on. 

Nothing too serious. 

Everything passes in a blur after you both leave the house. Shanks is feeling more and more anxious and you aren’t faring much better either. By the time you reach the hospital - in the next town over, where Law performs surgeries on his days off from the clinic - you are both very pale and nauseous. 

You check him in and, as he’s being taken to a room to get prepped for surgery, Law appears and asks you to come in so he can speak with both of you. He reviews the process step by step as you nod along - having studied the procedure from front to back, as the little control freak you are - assures you both that he will be there the entire time, reassuring you that it’s a routine procedure and everything will be alright. 

Shanks feels better once the nurses start to apply drugs to the IV, but you’re still wound as tight as a rope, so Law gently grasps your arm, leading you to the room where you will be waiting for the surgery to be over. He seats you in a chair and fills a cup of water from the dispenser.

“Drink.” He uses the commanding tone you’re slowly getting used to, and you do as you’re told. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of your father. He’s a strong man and this is routine. He’s got this.” Your eyes fix somewhere in front of you, staring into a void as your heart thumps against your eardrums in a deafening rhythm. Law’s firm hand captures your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his amber gaze. “I’ve got this. I won’t let anything happen to him. Do you trust me?”

It seems like such a charged question. As if he’s asking this and meaning so much more than the hours he’ll spend operating on your dad. Yet, you have no doubt about the answer.

“I do.” You whisper softly. 

Nodding, he turns to leave. “It will pass in an instant, okay? Try not to worry.” He leaves you alone, feeling the weight of fear crushing you and pressing down on your back. You feel helpless, impotent about what you can do to help, to make sure the outcome is a happy one.

But everything feels too out of control. 

Half an hour passes. The clock ticks relentlessly, and you still haven't moved. You brought a book and your cell phone is fully charged, yet you haven’t even taken your purse off your shoulder, your fingers still clutch the plastic cup that Law filled with water for you.

Your throat is dry yet you can’t find the strength to get more water. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, and your legs are restless.

Another ten minutes pass before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you back from the stress of the unknown, the unplanned, and the endless possibilities of what can go wrong.

“Kaya?” You whisper, your voice hoarse and ragged with fear.

Your friend smiles at you as she sits down by your side. “Dr. Law called me. He said to leave the clinic to the two morons - Penguin and Shachi are some of his closest friends, did you know that? - and said that I should come to you, immediately! Leaving no chance to argue back. He said he would pay me extra, but I told him to shove the berries in his back pocket because I’d gladly help you without any coercion.”

You blink slowly, your mind still too deep in the fog of uncertainty to really focus on Kaya’s words. Besides, she just dumped a lot of information on you, though one thought lingers front and centre: Law told her to come to you.

“Wait, Law told you to come here?”

She squeals excitedly while nodding with vigour. “He did! He said you looked scared and on the verge of a panic attack and he didn’t want you to be alone in the waiting room for two to three hours. How romantic is that?”

You take a deep breath and, finally, lean back in your chair, removing the strap from your purse and drinking the rest of the water. You already feel more at ease. Kaya’s presence is already reassuring you and easing your fears. “Not as romantic as you make it seem, since I’m about to shit my pants with fear.”

Kaya chuckles and takes the empty cup from your hand, throwing it in the trash and sitting back down. She takes your hand in hers in a reassuring way. “Honey, there’s no need to fret. Dr. Law is the best. You really don’t have to worry. You have no idea how many awards he has! And he’s still so young! He’s not even thirty yet, the man is a medical genius or something!”

She chuckles again and you stare in awe. You had no idea. Kaya sees your reaction and continues. 

“He even skipped a few grades in school. He took advanced classes and entered university two years early! He managed to finish his degree in half the time. He’s really smart and diligent.”

“Wow…” You say dumbly. “I didn’t know that. He did seem very professional and young, but I had no idea he was so good.”

“Honey, he’s much better than just good! I guarantee you that!” She giggles one more time, certainly already adding another chapter to her imaginary novel of your romance. “Did you know he comes from money?”

Raising a brow you turn fully to her, waiting for her to continue.

“He’s related to the Donquixotes. They’re filthy rich.”

Oh, you know damn well who the Donquixotes are. They’re close friends of the Vinsmokes, your ex’s family. You know they have loads of money, influence, power, status… you name it. You never made official acquaintance with them, but you glimpsed the head of the family, Donquixote Doflamingo, at some important parties, and the whole demeanour of the man demands respect. 

You had no idea Law was related to them. 

“I had no idea, Kaya. I know who they are. My ex’s family was very influential and they often frequented the same social circles.”

She’s just about to retort with some more gossip - you assume - when the staff door opens and a slightly frazzled nurse comes to speak with you. Immediately standing, you hope to hear her say that the surgery’s over, but her countenance tells you otherwise, and her words confirm it.

“There was a slight complication with your father’s procedure. There’s some unexpected swelling and inflammation in the tissue surrounding the herniated disc. Dr. Law wanted me to reassure you that all is well, and the only thing this means is that the surgery will be prolonged since he needs to proceed slower and with more caution.” The nurse gives you a strained smile. “He was very adamant that I make sure you understood that he would never let anything happen to your father and to confirm you were already accompanied by Nurse Kaya.”

You nod as you slump back down in the chair, all words stripped away from you, leaving Kaya to answer instead.

“Thank you nurse. Please assure Dr. Law that I’m with her and she’s very grateful for his help.”

The nurse nods and goes back inside while you review the surgery procedure again in your head. You remember reading something in the complications section about tissue swelling. Going back and forth on your mental notes, you don’t think it's something to worry about, but that means that Shanks is going to be under anaesthesia for at least one or two hours more than originally planned and-...

“What? Sorry!” You answer, as Kaya had been repeating your name for a while, trying to ground you back in reality. 

“I said he’s going to be fine! It’s a very normal thing to happen in these procedures. Dr. Law is perfectly equipped to handle it! Remember? He’s a genius!”

You nod vigorously. You know he’s going to be fine. You just know. 

He has to.

-*-

Five hours and thirty-three minutes.

That is the total amount of time that your father stayed in the operating room. But now that a nurse has come by to tell you the surgery is over and they are moving him to the recovery room, you can finally breathe. 

Kaya has stayed by your side the whole time. You received a bunch of phone calls from your friends and neighbours and time passed. Sometimes slowly, other times in a blink. But now everything is fine.

And the man you have to thank for that, has just opened the door to speak with you. His eyes seem weary and tired, the bags under them a bit more pronounced, but he has a reassuring smile on his lips as he approaches you.

He says your name and you get up to meet him halfway. “The surgery is over, Mr. S. is fine and will recover from the anaesthesia in one or two hours. After that he’ll be transferred to a room where I specifically said that you were allowed in, at any time of the day during how long you wish to remain.”

Your eyes feel wet and prickly as the lump in your throat tightens and makes it hard to breathe. Kaya squeezes your hand and Law continues.

“Despite the unexpected complication, everything went according to plan. The hernia was removed and, after appropriate recovery time and some physical therapy, your father will recover perfectly well.”

You are so grateful that you have to fight the urge to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Law.” The sound that comes from your lips is a mere whisper. 

“I told you to trust me, didn’t I?” His smile deepens and you hear a muffled squeal coming from Kaya, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Law. “Nurse Kaya, thank you for being here.”

She nods and grins at him. “I would never leave our girl alone and afraid, Dr. Law!”

Our girl? You raise an eyebrow at her expecting Law to make some stern remark, but he just chuckles and nods. “Right.” He says. “Thank you. I will check on Mr. S. in a couple of hours.” Then he stares straight into your eyes, his amber gaze full of care and assuredness. “If you need anything at all, you have my number.”

-*-

Kaya wants to stay with you until you are allowed to see your dad, but you tell her to go home. Usopp, her fiancé, has already called her because she’s usually off work by now, and you don’t want to impose.

Besides, there’s nothing else to be scared of. The surgery is over and Shanks is fine. 

She finally relents and leaves you alone and you barely have to wait another hour before the nurse summons you and takes you to your father’s room. He’s lying in bed with a very tired look on his face.

“Dad!” You exclaim as soon as you enter.

“Bug, I thought you were home.” His voice seems very hoarse and you can see he’s making an effort, so you sit down in the chair next to the bed and take his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Don’t speak, dad. Just rest. I’m so happy you’re okay. Law said I was allowed to stay in your room for as long as I wish. I’ll stay here with you!” You eye the couch set in the corner of the room. It seems perfectly comfortable for you to sleep on. You just don’t want to leave him.

You forced him to undergo surgery, so you feel responsible for his well-being and want to be there to cater to his every need. 

He nods and closes his eyes. “Are you in pain? Just nod or shake your head, don’t try to speak.” He shakes his head and you sigh. “Okay daddy.” You lean in and place a lingering kiss on his temple. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“How are we feeling?” Law asks from near your chair and you jump. You didn’t even hear him enter the room. 

Shanks opens his eyes but doesn’t speak, instead, he raises his thumb to give Law a thumbs up, making the doctor chuckle lightly. 

“Alright, Mr. S., I’m going to do a quick check-up before leaving you to rest for the night, okay?” Shanks nods and you get up to give Law some space. After he finishes the exam, checking the drugs in the IV bag and his charts, Shanks is already snoring, so he beckons you to follow him outside the room.

“How is he?” Anxiety laces your question as you wring your fingers together. “From what I’ve read, there can be about a 10% chance of post-surgery infection, so we need to watch out for any redness or swelling, and maybe some fever. Though since he’s under a lot of drugs, we might not spot a fever right away. And, oh! There’s also a supposed 3% chance of blood clots occurring -...”

“Relax.” His hands rest against your shoulders, pressing firmly while his thumbs draw soft circles against your shirt. “I told you I’ve got this. Your father’s in good hands. You said you trusted me.”

You open your mouth to speak, clearly still meaning to add more information about post-surgical statistics you’ve been reading about since Kaya left, but one of his hands climbs up your shoulder and rests on your cheek in an affectionate gesture, much more intimate than you were expecting. 

“Relax. There’s no need to be in control now. I’m in control here. Okay? Just let go.”

All the breath leaves your lungs at once. The firmness of his touch and the assuredness of his voice make you nod and comply, your shoulders slumping forward, immediately relaxing your posture.

What the hell?

You have suffered quite a bit in the past with anxiety and stressful situations, often finding yourself spiralling because you couldn’t control a specific situation. You had never managed to calm down so easily, so effortlessly. Ichiji only made it worse, so you never really had an anchor to ground you. But Law… he did it in the blink of an eye. With a touch and a few words.

This is a first.

Surprise is still etched on your face when he steps back, leaving only a cold void within you. “His vitals are all stable and he’s not in pain. The night nurse will keep monitoring his condition. You’re welcome to stay by his side or go home and rest. He’s in good hands.” 

You nod, still too stunned to speak and exhaustion is beginning to take its toll on your body and mind. “I’ll… I’ll stay. My brain is too numb to drive home now.”

He nods in understanding. “I’ll be here around lunchtime to check on him again. Try to rest. Everything’s alright now.”

Once again, his words stir something within you, a feeling of safety, and you nod in agreement. 

It will all be fine now.

|Chapter 3|

[augusgus]

touch yourself (m.)

Being Sukuna's vessel isn't easy. Even less so if he's decided to take advantage of it - to his great pleasure and your humiliation.

pairing: ryomen sukuna x vessel fem!reader

tags: forced masturbation(?), a bit of degradation, corruption kink, sadistic sukuna (are we surprised), dacryphilia, oral sex, ruined orgasm, a tiny bit of spit play

You could hear his snicker even before you felt your cheek moving from Sukuna's sneer.

"What a lewd woman..." His voice was dripping with self-satisfaction, the kind that made you want to strangle him. Him and his damned influence over you.

Another wave of heat rushed through your body, this one stronger than the ones before, and a strangled whimper escaped your lips. Damn it, damn it, damn him. You were burning up and at this point it took everything in you to keep it together.

A knowing chuckle. "Why so shy?" There was a dark, cajoling tint to his whisper that sent involuntary shivers down your spine. "Or, perhaps, are you a filthy liar? Is that how it is? My, how scandalous!"

"T-that's rich coming from you, curse."

You were breathing heavily, fingers gripping your pillow with white knuckles. It hadn't been long since you had woken up from your body going into overdrive but it was already become too much to handle. Slowly, tantalisingly. It was mortifying to say the least, slowly losing control over yourself like that.

And Sukuna, being the source of your problem, was eating it right up.

You could feel the mouth on your cheek stretch impossibly to an even wider grin. "I would never deny myself pleasure, woman. I always take what I desire."

"Explains w-why you're such an ass," you quipped back.

You knew your response was weak. But you couldn't think clearly anymore - every drag of fabric against your skin, every shift of your fingers against the pillow was sending tingles up your neck and lighting up sparks in your brain.

His voice seemed closer to your ear now as he drawled, so sardonically, so humiliatingly smug, "you know, your perverted cunt is much more honest than you, woman. It's been dripping the whole time."

Wincing, you closed your eyes in shame as if that would make everything disappear. It wasn't for the first time that you wished to have never become a vessel for this demon, to have never given Sukuna the opportunity to touch the most vulnerable parts of your innermost and pick you apart by the seams with sadistic enjoyment. He was stripping you from your decency, dragging away layer by layer until he had you naked and cornered and cowering exactly the way he wanted you to.

You felt watched when your fingers slowly, almost involuntarily, travelled down your body - and in a sense you were indeed. Gleeful eyes, all over, drinking in this horrible humiliation that not even your lust-induced haze could block out... And that small part in yourself that actually took pleasure from this exploitation of your weakness - you started to hate that you have been made aware of its existence.

A gasp left your lips when your nails caught on one of your nipples, the slight touch alone enough to have a gush of wetness pooling between your legs. Sukuna's mouth laughed and the sheer proximity of the harsh sound made your head spin.

"Hah! Are you crying, woman?" He taunted. "D'you think that I'd take pity on you?"

"I'm n-not..." You hadn't noticed it before but tears had started to gather in your eyes. The realisation only made them well up more, salty liquid running down your cheek and landing on his tongue.

He laughed louder, a hint of madness vibrating in his sadistic excitement. "Yes, yes, this is it!! Lose yourself! Get even more desperate... You're a whore, behave like one!" You could feel his arousal brimming under your skin, dark and sticky, mixing with your own lust.

"You're such...an...asshole..." The insult lacked the usual spite. Forming words felt much too difficult all of a sudden.

If he had any regard for anyone other than himself, he would have stopped here, left you intact. He still would have had you hanging by the last threads of your pride, of your morals, but you'd be able to shrug it off as a moment of weakness. A lapse in judgment.

But Sukuna had never cared for the thing called restraint.

"Touch yourself, woman." He was playing with you, cruel in how his voice made it sound like an inevitable order. "Show me just how shameful you are, getting off on fingering your perverted cunt with a cursed spirit possessing your body. Show off how much you crave this!"

The moment the pads of your fingers pressed into the covered folds of your pussy, you couldn't breathe. The pleasure was all-consuming and the bit of relief that came with it made you momentarily forget about the guilt. "S'good..." the whine forced itself between your lips but you didn't have it in you anymore to care.

It felt so good... and yet the ache only seemed to grow stronger.

"Still not enough, huh." You could hear the grin, feel the movement right next to your ear, "what a slut."

And then white flashed before your eyes when something strong pushed against your entrance - Sukuna's mouth having opened on your palm instead, hot tongue licking a fat stripe up to your clit.

"Ah-hhhah...?!" there was no softness to his ministrations, no rhythm to make it easier for you to adjust. Whatever he decided to give to you, you had to take it. It was almost too much, balancing on the fine line between overwhelming and mind-numbing.

You had no control over the sounds you made anymore, over your muscles, and without thinking you pushed harder against your own hand, pressing the palm flat against your sticky folds to have better access to him. To have him closer, reach deeper.

Little sounds of "ah. Ah. Ah" filled the room and combined with the squelches from your dripping juices and his saliva. Sukuna laughed against your clothed core before biting along your outer lips, then slowly sliding his teeth over your clit - just gentle enough that the sensation had you squeezing your thighs even harder around your hand and trapping it effectively. With a scoff he sucked your clit into his mouth, rubbing circles into it with the tip of his tongue until you couldn't stop shaking.

Your orgasm wasn't far, the denial you've put yourself through having put your body in an even more vulnerable state. The coil was steadily tightening, growing in intensity until you could almost taste it on your tongue. A little more, just a little-

All contact vanished. Nothing, apart from your wet panties clinging to your folds. Gone was the pressure, lingering warmth all that was left. And still, in the last moment the slight shift of fabric made you tip over the edge.

You came but it didn't feel like an orgasm.

New tears welled up in your eyes as you realised, this was so unfair. So unfair. You could still feel the awaited pleasure brimming right underneath your skin, could feel it retracting without having given you any of the relief.

"Did ya really think you deserve to cum?" He was mocking you - his mouth back on your cheek letting a trail of spit run down his tongue and in between your own opened lips. It tasted like yourself.

Almost as if a dam had broken, you cried even more - desperation to cum, really cum, taking a hold of you. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou..." your pussy was pulsating around nothing, your body having been tricked into an empty orgasm, but the lust was still right there. Heat pooling in where you thought to be your womb. You needed it, needed him. So bad.

"Come on, you can do better than that," Sukuna drawled. "Beg. Say it, say my name."

"Scream who it is you're letting yourself be fucked by."

[straykidshoe]

Talk to me ?

PAIRINGS: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Mature (Smut)

MUSIC: Aquainted by The Weeknd

CONTAINS: College au, enemies to lovers

SMUT WARNINGS: Oral (f recieving), heavy groping, phone sex (she's on the phone whilst getting some.), squirting, Minho being innocent bad boy. please message me if i misseed anything.

WORD COUNT: 2,969

A/N: Numero 2! bad boy with a heart of gold lee know is a weakness of mine. Please send some love for my work <333

You always hated Lee Know, the confident asshole would always sit on your right- always on your fucking right. Be it in class, or in the library where you were trying to study-anywhere you were trying to have some peace and quiet- there he was. With his gang of troublemakers, covered in tattoos and deliciously styled in a way that made you secretly clench your thighs together.

But you could never let him know, you just had to grind your teeth and let him do what he wanted because what could you do? It was a public space, anyone could do whatever they wanted as long as they were quiet. So you opted to ignore him, trying not to let his dangerous pull ensnare you, like many of his other victims. 

That was until the day your teacher had asked you and him to stay back, it was a tuesday.. Phycology 101. And there he was- standing in front of the teacher’s desk, head turned back lazily, an expectant look in his eyes whilst you packed your bag- taking your own sweet ass time. Slowly you reached your professor, a sweet woman who would always give you a shiny A+ on every assignment, like every other course teacher you had. 

‘-I need you to tutor him.’ You had tuned out the rest of the sentence your professor was saying, mainly because you were definitely not staring at the man next to you- how does someone so annoying have such a pretty side profile..Wait what? 

‘Tutor..him?’ you pointed at Minho who was smirking at you, 

‘Yes Miss Y/N. Will it be a problem?’ Your teacher was looking at you with such kind eyes, and who were you to say no to someone, a professor no less.

‘I would be happy to Miss.’ You said through your fake smile, your teeth had begun to dry out with how long your face had been fixed in the position.

‘Lovely! I’ll let you two discuss the details-’ She clapped her hands together before shifting her gaze to Minho, ‘-And you, I want to see a real improvement. You’re doing so well in your other classes, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Especially with such a wonderful teacher.’ Your teacher grinned at you, ‘Off you go now, my next class is about to begin!’ 

As you walked down the crowded hallways of the science block, you were trying to ignore the large presence following you around, hoping that with the many twists and turns you took- he would get the picture and leave you alone.

Soon enough you had reached the girls dormitory, the old vintage architecture always made you calm and serene, imagining the fancy women with beautiful dresses roaming the sidewalks when the university didn’t exist. How badly you wanted to be like them, rich and powerful so effortlessly.. 

‘Ahem, Ahem’ The coughing noise made you stop in your tracks, you hardly noticed Minho following you, assuming he would stop tailing you like a lost dog. Groaning underneath your breath, you turned on your heel,

‘What?’ You supported your books on one hand as you flipped your hair off your shoulder,

‘Well, when are you free?’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, swaying on the sole of his shoes. God you hated the way his hair billowed out, like a fucking cotton candy- how badly you wanted to take a stick and just- 

‘Here- take my number, text me later.’ Once again his movements created an obstacle in your train of thought as he took a pen out of your open pouch and scrawled a few digits onto a scrap piece of paper sticking out from your notebook, placing the pen back in its position- he reached out and tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, ‘Don’t miss me too much sweetheart’ You flinched away from his touch, the pads of his fingers against your skin causing a spark of electricity to travel through you.

‘I won’t’, you gritted out from behind your teeth as you watched his retreating figure stop in front of the boys dormitory and begin conversation with one of his friends, ‘Asshole..’ you pushed the door open and sighed as the air conditioned foyer welcomed you in from the heat. Opening the small chit of paper he rested on top of the stack of books in your arm, you sat down on the common room couch. Quickly, you typed in the number into your phone- wanting to get any sense of him away from your person as swiftly as possible. Throwing away the chit in a nearby trash can, you started the treacherous trek of climbing around 5 flights of stairs to your dorm.

It was later the same day, and you had texted the devil himself to meet you in your dorm to begin classes. Since your last meeting with him, you had changed out of your white sweater and black skirt into some old night shorts and a spaghetti strap, along with switching out your contacts with a pair of glasses- but you kept your hair done, a long ponytail adorned with a purple bow clipped on at the rubber band. Lord knows how long that took you in the morning. 

Around 6pm, there was a knock on your door- and there he was, in all of his glorious asshole-ness. One arm leaning on the top of your doorframe, another loosely holding onto the strap of his bag- he wore a long black top with grey sweatpants…

Of course he owns grey sweatpants, would he be your most stunning nightmare if he didn’t?

‘Can I come in, or do you need more time to eye-fuck me?’ He smiled at your stunned expression, removing his hand from the doorframe to step closer to you- scanning your face with a piercing gaze.

‘Whatever..’ Clearing your throat, you took a step away from him- giving him space to enter your room. You close the door, keeping your hand on the cold metal doorknob hoping that it will cool down the heat that had swept over your body. Maybe you should open a window?

‘You can sit there for now, next time we’ll meet up in the library,’ A hum of acknowledgement came from behind you. You made your way to the man who was now making himself comfortable on your plush bed, ‘Nice room princess, very.. clean’ he drawled as you sat in front of him and the open textbook in between you both- you scoffed at his comment, ‘Thanks, I guess.’ 

You brought your own book onto your lap, starting off with the very basics, ‘The first topic in our syllabus is the problem of intuition- it's pretty simple. Look’ You took a highlighter and began to explain meticulously every word in front of him, making sure to stop and answer his questions- if he had any.

This same stop and start procedure kept going for about 1 hour, and Minho was doing surprisingly well, he was attentive, asked all the right questions and answered yours with perfection every single time. 

Though, you did catch him looking at you instead of the textbook. But that was a coincidence. That’s what you told yourself the last 4 times it happened,

‘Are you even listening to me?’ you asked him, annoyance evident in your tone, looking up at him from your hunched position over the very neon yellow highlighted text. 

‘Yes, obviously I am listening to you Y/N’ He responded, equally annoyed,

‘Well, it doesn’t look like it.’ You straightened your back- squinting your eyes at him.

‘What is your problem with me?’ he threw his hands up, before crossing them over his chest- leaning back against your headboard, ‘I don’t talk to you, and you're annoyed with me. I talk to you, somehow I'm the asshole. What have I even done to you?’ He asked, accusation dripping from his words. 

You climbed off the bed, ‘Because..’ you trailed off, for once in your life, you were at a loss for words, ‘Because you annoy me.’ 

‘Wow, and here I was thinking that you’re smart.’

‘Rude, it’s just-’ it was your turn to fling your arms in the air, ‘You’re annoying. You always pick at my hair, always make fun of my clothes. So, I just started being equally mean to you’

He gaped at you, ‘Firstly, I don’t pick at your hair- it was one time, and I was complimenting you,’ He brought one finger up, like he was checking off boxes in his mind, ‘And secondly, I have never made fun of your clothes- I think you look nice in them.’ he brought up the second finger, before looking back up at you.

‘Yeah, sure,’ you placed you hands on your hips, scrunching up the soft cotton material adorning your body, ‘Whenever you talk to me, you just use the same cheap pick-up lines that you use on all of the other girls you fuck’ 

His eyes widened in understanding, ‘You’re..jealous’ 

‘No- no I am not jealous.’ You aren't jealous, you were never that type to get jealous, especially over a guy you never had, ‘You’re just excruciatingly- Ugh’ you groaned, burying your head into your palms, ‘Forget it- where were we..’

You tried to clamber back onto the bed, but he was in your way- standing in front of you, following the steps you took trying to go around him, ‘Move, we still have another half of the-’ you stopped mid sentence when he crooked his index finger under your chin, guiding your head up to meet his eyes, ‘W-what are you doing..’

‘Just admit that you’re jealous.. And I’ll give you what you want’ he smirks, dragging his lips over your cheek- leaving a burning path in their wake. Holy shit.

Your breath hitches, ‘I will do no such thing,’ you were going for firm, but whatever just came out of your mouth was breathless, whiny. Just what he wanted.

‘Come on Princess, I know you want to..’ he had moved to your ear, nibbling on the soft cartilage. Just when you were teetering on the edge of succumbing to his mind games, your phone rang- the ringtone echoing around both of you. 

You cursed under your breath- it was 7:30, your father always calls you at 7:30. On a tuesday. And if you didn’t pick up, there would be a heap of messages for you to answer in the next 10 minutes. 

You rushed over to your phone, sliding the call button over and holding it up to your ear, ‘Hey dad…’ you looked up to Minho who was boring holes into your face, you held your finger up to your lips- narrowing your eyes at him when he approached you at your desk.

You stifle a gasp when he connects his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the skin- teasing it between his teeth, ‘Yeah, nothing- nothings wrong. How’s mum?’ you mumble into the phone, before rolling your eyes back when he drags one strap off your shoulder, planting a kiss onto the sensitive skin.

You hear him snicker against your shoulder before doing the same to the other side, you shoot daggers down at him. Trying to will him to stop before you end up giving your father a very inappropriate memory- but the man doesn’t get the message and pulls your tank top up from the hem, stopping just below your breasts.

Exposing your stomach and shoulders to the chilly air in your room, whilst keeping your breasts covered by the remaining fabric, Minho gets down on his knees in front of you- looking up into your hooded eyes, looking for any signs of inhibition- but all he can see are your cheeks flushed with colour and blown out pupils. 

Painfully slow, he brought his face closer to your stomach- leaving wet kisses everywhere. Man, he is such a fucking tease. You lean back, resting your ass on the side of your desk whilst your free hand grips the wood so hard it looks like it’s about to crack; lolling you head up, you felt your brain getting fuzzy so much so that you almost missed what your father was saying on the other end of the phone, ‘Hmm, what dad? No, no I am not distracted. No please don’t go get mum- dad!’ you groan heavily as the familiar hold music blares into your ear. 

You gaze down at Minho, snarling when he starts drag his fingers around the waistband of your shorts- cupping your hand over the microphone, you bring your head low enough so you can hiss, ‘Don’t you fucking dare..’

He shoots you a cheeky grin before roughly pulling them down your legs, he pushes you further into the desk- forcing you to sit on the smooth dark wood. Just as you were about to curse at the personified version of horny, your mother’s shrill voice screeches out of the speaker, ‘Darling, your father tells me you don’t sound well. Should we come by to visit?’ You open your mouth to answer, just as Minho leaves an open mouth kiss on your panties- just over your leaking sex.

You bite your knuckle as your parents continue to bombard you with unrecognisable words, honestly. You couldn’t care less about whatever your parents were going on about when Lee fucking Know was in between your legs kissing the sensitive part of your thighs, teasing you to the point where there was now a visible dark patch on the crotch of your underwear.

‘Mhm yea sure mum, you can come by tomorrow. No I am not trying to get rid of you- no mother I still love you-’ you hold the phone away from your ear so that you are not subjected to the shrieks of your beloved parents.

You glance back down at Minho who was now prodding the wet cotton with his finger, he curled an eyebrow up at you. And as much as you wanted to tell him, ‘No you beautiful bastard, I do not want you to finger me senseless whilst I am on the phone to my parents,’ you just whimpered and nodded you head down at him- sighing in relief when he pushed your underwear to the side and sunk his long, middle finger until the knuckle.

‘Y/N? Y/N can you hear me, see I told you- we should never have let her stay in the dorms.’ You grit your teeth as your mother threw around these accusations.

Sighing in frustration you cut the call- deciding to deal with the ramifications later, you moaned out loud when he curled his finger upward, ‘Please..’ Minho wretched his gaze away from your dripping cunt, ‘Please what sweetheart? Gotta tell me what you want..’ he smirked up at you, damn him and his smirk, sighing in frustration you gripped his soft strands and whispered out into the silence, ‘Want you to finger me senseless, then fuck me into oblivion’ you smiled down at his stunned expression, before choking on a moan when he added a second finger into you- providing you with a sinful stretch.

‘Well, well, well. All it takes is me fucking you senseless? Shoulda told me that earlier, dirty little slut..’ he breathes out a chuckle against your pubic hair as he drags himself up to your face, keeping his fingers stuffed within you. 

Slotting himself between your legs, he connects both your lips into a messy, heated kiss- you felt his tongue caress yours poisoning you with the sweetest venom. Pulling away, you groan when his fingers start moving at a brutal pace- gripping his loose shirt, you slip your hands underneath, revelling in the small divots and bumps his toned stomach contain, ‘Holy shit-’ you gasp out resting your head on Minho’s shoulder,

‘Nuh uh, want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum around my fingers..’ you loll your head up, before reaching the tight fabric around your breasts down, exposing them to his ferocious gaze- bringing one of your hands off your desk, you roll your perky nipple between the pads of your thumb and index finger, ‘Fuck Fuck- Minho please, please lemme cum. Wanna cum for you..’ you babble incoherent sentences against his lips, praying to whichever god is willing to answer you that he lets you cum, ‘Oh God..’ you bite down on his lip, revelling in his deep moan when you draw the smallest amount of blood. 

He pulls away, ‘Not God, baby- Lee Minho’ his deep growl paired with him harshly pressing the heel of his palm against your clit sends you off the edge, like a rubber band pulled to taut. You snap. It feels like you're on cloud 9, you sag against him- twitching and breathing heavily; you feel wrung out of all energy.

Until Minho uses his thumb to roll your puffy clit underneath the pad of his large finger, ‘Shit-’ you jerk up, rutting and rolling your hips into his harsh movements, ‘Ngh, No- no stop. It hurts..’ You whimper loudly, he ignores your cries when he feels your walls clamping down on his fingers; bringing his mouth up to your ear, ‘Imagine how good my cock would feel inside you..’ he pistons his fingers inside of you, curling them up- finding the spongy place inside of you that catapults you out of the heavens and straight to hell. You convulse around his fingers strongly, whining when you feel your thighs sprayed with liquid, ‘Jesus christ sweetheart.’ He trails off, you try to open your eyes but slump down onto your desk- resting your back against the cool surface, you laugh into the heavy air when he mutters, ‘Should’ve got you to talk to me sooner..’

[dannybobany]

NGEUYTBFWTWBVTBYWF absolutely

Someone give me drawing requests PLEASSEEEEEEEE I wanna draw

[kodydrs]

The Vice-Admiral’s Daughter - Portgas D. Ace ( II )

➥ the first arguement

a/n: I might have this done by next week (i’m jinxing myself rn). writing this all feels so repetitive 😭. but hope everyone is having a wonderful day, so why not reblog / leave a reply, or send in a request / ask?

warnings: ace x fem!reader, pirate!ace x marine!daughter!admiral, fxm, 17y/o!reader, 19y/o!ace, argument, tension, non-con (but not really), pet names, single used of “y/n”, not proofread (it’s never proofread), i’m bad at tagging

summary: a series of you and ace’s “first times” - you haven’t seen ace for almost 2 years, but suddenly the pirate pops up in a bar.

ib: i lied an forgot to mention it in the first post, but the pirate x marine idea came from this post by @tinfairies

request: yes / no

The next time you met Ace was almost a year and a half later at a similar bar, but this one wasn’t in Loguetown. Instead, you were partaking in a Marine Training. Night had come and training had ended, so you had all decided to get drinks at the local bar (courtesy of the Vice-Admiral, of course). It was going to be a good night until you spotted a familiar orange cowboy hat.

‘Can you guys excuse me for a minute? I’ve gotta do something quickly.’ You told the other cadets. You got a response of “Oh come on, Y/n.” and “But we’re sitting down for the first time all day”, all of which you ignored. Not drawing attention to yourself from anyone in the bar, you walked up to the counter and took a seat beside the pirate.

Ace looked at you through the side of his eye, having to do a double take before realising who you were.

‘Hey. It’s the Vice-Admiral’s daughter!’ He shouted, resulting in a merciless jab to the ribs. He doubled over, wincing as he smiled up at you. ‘Long time, no-‘

‘You need to leave.’ You hissed as you ordered yourself a drink. He just chuckled.

‘We both know that isn’t going to happen, sweetheart.’ He says, taking a small sip of his drink.

‘Ace. There are other marines here. This whole town is swarmed with marines at the moment. You will get caught.’ You whisper-yell, chugging your own drink like it was a shot of water. Ace watched in amazement, a devilish smirk crossing his face as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

‘What happened to “I don’t drink”? Last time I saw you, I had to force you into having just one and now here you are, drinking like a sailor. What did I miss?’

‘I aged.’ You reply blatantly, like it’s the most obvious answer. ‘Last time I saw you, Ace, I was 16. It’s been almost 2 years.’

He laughs, ruffling your hair playfully and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

‘Well you certainly aged well.’ You were quick to brush his hand away, grabbing him by his hat's drawstrings and dragging him from the bar once again.

‘You’re an asshole. And an idiot.’ You curse loudly, turning heads as you cart him down the main street and into an empty alley. ‘What are you even doing here?’

‘I was bored.’

If he looked close enough, Ace might have seen the vein on your forehead pulsing and your patience snap.

‘I’m sorry. You’re in a highly marine populated area, on the busiest day of Marine training, because YOU’RE BORED?!’

He looks at you nonchalantly, shrugging.

‘That is what pirates do, sweetheart.. We get bored sometimes.’

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan, enciting a smile from the older.

‘How is it that you always manage to be in the worst place at the worst time? It’s like that’s your devil fruit power instead of fire fist shit.’

His smirk widens and he leans back against the wall. ‘That’s because I'm not afraid to take risks.’ He winks mischievously, stepping forward towards you before stopping short when he notices your expression.

‘What's wrong, baby girl?’ He asks, tilting his head slightly.

‘I-uh.’ You’re struggling to find words, and you know that boosting Ace’s already large ego. ‘You’re a pervert.’

He bursts into laughter, making you flinch.

‘Oh ho! That’s quite rich coming from you, princess.’ There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Rich coming from me?’ You fight, a surge of confidence flooding you. ‘You took advantage of a 16 year old girl while she was intoxicated.’

He steps closer, towering over you and you feel all the light around you disappear. It’s scary.

‘If I remember correctly, and let us both remember I was the sober one, you said something along the lines of “I want to kiss you so bad right now” and me, not being a “pervert” , told you to try saying it while you’re sober. so no, Y/n. I took advantage of no one.’

Your face flushes red, internal regret ringing in your ear as every alarm goes off. Your flight response, your “crawl into a ball and cry” response, and your fight response.

‘You’re lying.’

‘Oh yeah?’ His voice dropped down to that octave you remembered from your first drink. That animalistic tone as he slowly runs a finger down your covered stomach before hooking onto your belt. ‘Then why are you so nervous?’

You’re doing your best to not break eye contact with the man, but your breathing becomes deep and heavy as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

‘Tell me, babygirl. What exactly did I do wrong?’ He grips tighter onto your belt, pulling your forwards until your chests are pressed together closely. ‘Just answer me, please.’

You can’t form words, and all that comes out when you try to answer is a quiet whimper, like an animal caught in the hunters trap. Ace just laughs, placing a hand on your hip.

‘Now… that isn’t very convincing, princess.’ He pulls away and you gasp for air, your body finally registering that you were breathing. You can feel how hot your face is, and it only makes you more embarrassed which adds to the heat.

‘I-‘

‘You’re trying to tell me I forced you?’ Ace says, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. ‘I did no such thing, ok? What I’m doing now? This is forcing. But on that night, I took you back to the tavern because I didn’t know where you lived and you were too drunk to give me directions. From there, the bartender should’ve taken you home. So please don’t accuse me of taking advantage of you. We had a deal, remember?’

You nod weakly, breathing normally as he releases your jaw and brings his hand to the side of your hand, caressing your cheek gently.

‘I… I’m sorry. For accusing you, and- everything else.’

He looks at you with that dark expression for another second before his signature bright smile lights up.

‘It’s alright. I don’t hold a grudge. Especially not with my friends. And you were so drunk. You wouldn’t have remembered anything from that night, anyways.’

You laugh quietly, wiping your eyes of the few tears that had threatened to spill.

‘…yeah. But I wasn’t drunk.’

‘Oh my god.’ He shouts, laughing at the fact you’re still defending your case after a year and a half. Regardless of the actions prior, he pays your head and ruffles your hair. ‘Get back to your drinks. I’ll get out of here while you distract them, ok?’

You both laugh, but nonetheless split ways. You go back to the other cadets, forgetting you’d even seen Ace by the 5th drink.

taglist: reply to be added

© kodydrs

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated.

⇦ part I

[spider-stark]

Our Girl

Harry Osborn x Reader // Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - You're forced into attending a gala with Peter and Harry, where your best friends unintentionally plant a tempting idea in your head.

Warnings - none that i know of. just banter with the boys and some pining on all ends.

// masterlist // forever indebted // send me your thoughts //

“You're late.” 

PETER'S FEET came to a grinding stop in front of you, finding himself ensnared under the weight of your glowering gaze. The pointed remark had been enough to set his senses on fire, the radioactive venom in his veins having labeled you a threat as the fine hairs coating his arms began to stand on end. 

It wasn’t often that Peter found himself on the receiving end of your current tone, rarely ever being the one to tick you off enough to draw out your more menacing side. Until now, actually, he had been fairly certain that the tone had been specially reserved for Harry. 

He recognized it as a threatening sound, a subtle warning to be used whenever the Oscorp heir would speak too freely of his perverted fantasies about you. Although, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t remember a time that it had ever worked on Harry, with little having the capability to encourage the young Osborn to restrain himself. 

Peter wondered how Harry managed to maintain his confidence when he was the target of your irritation, especially considering that Peter’s stomach already felt like it was doing cartwheels. 

“Ah, you know how it is,” a nervous chuckle as he inched closer to your side, leaning in close so you could hear him over the loud music playing overhead, “some guy with a gun wanted to try his luck at City National bank. Figured Spider-Man could handle it quicker than the NYPD.” 

You tilted your head, brows rising slightly in agreement. “Still,” you huffed out, averting your gaze to the golden-hued liquid in your glass, “you swore you’d be here. I was starting to think I was gonna have to deal with these pricks all by myself.” 

Peter chuckled, an action that earned him another icy glare. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” His teasing comment didn’t get a reply as you worked to maintain your sour mood with him. “Besides,” he tried again, lightly nudging you with his shoulder, “even if I hadn’t come you still wouldn’t be alone. Harry’s around here somewhere, yeah?” 

You snorted loudly at his question, the ill-mannered sound causing you to receive a few dirty looks from the haughty individuals within earshot. “Oh yeah, cause he’s so much help.” you droned sarcastically, throwing back what remained of your drink before continuing, “I think I’ve already got enough rich assholes trying to get me in bed when we come to these things.” 

There were many reasons you hated being forced into these flashy galas; the music was always obnoxious, often some type of mind-numbing classical, and the hors d’oeuvres were usually things you wouldn't ever consider eating, which meant you had no choice but to starve until it was over. 

But, the most notable reason for hating them, was that the Osborn name had a nasty habit of attracting New York’s most atrocious men. They were the kind of men that didn’t just think they deserved your time, but actually felt as if they were entitled to it, and it was rare that they were willing to accept rejection. 

To Harry’s credit, though, he was just as good as Peter at keeping prying eyes and unwelcome hands away from you. The only true difference between the two boys was their approach. 

Peter—ever the gentleman—typically opted for the kill ‘em with kindness route. A sweet hand hovering over the small of your back, guiding you through the crowded Osborn mansion. He would toss out an occasional pet name whenever someone overstayed their welcome in a conversation, do you need another drink baby? or I think Harry’s looking for us, sweetheart. 

His actions served as a gentle deterrent for anyone who dared to approach you, a subtle indication that you were taken. Peter fell into the role of the perfect boyfriend with such ease, so respectable and kind. 

Harry, on the other hand, never failed to take full advantage of the situation; unwilling to waste an opportunity to stake some sort of claim on you. 

He was bolder than Peter, thin fingers traipsing along your bare thigh as you sat next to him, slowly letting them dip underneath the fabric of your dress with such jealous intent. Ocean eyes would cage the man that you’d told him wouldn’t take no for an answer, forcing him to watch as his hand slipped higher and higher. 

You had grown used to Harry’s antics, and you were also aware that he’d never take it too far. He knew how far he could go before you’d tighten the leash around his neck, only occasionally pushing past the limit just enough to get on your nerves and earn a rough slap to his chest. 

For Peter—so sweet and gentle—it was a precious moment, one in which he could let himself experience what it would be like to actually call you his. For Harry—so brash, so passionate—it was a show of dominance; an act of war, even, against anyone who dared to act as if you weren’t his. 

You rarely bothered to remind him that you didn’t belong to him—either of them—often too caught up in your own imagination. You had the power to turn both boys into little more than lovesick puppies, and they held that same power over you. 

“Better to be the rich asshole you know than the one you don’t, right?” Peter contended, reaching over to take the empty glass from your hand and place it on the tray of a passing waiter. You only lifted your shoulders at the remark, muttering a small fair enough in response, scanning over the lavish room that was filled to the brim with New York’s most elite. 

“Speak of the devil.” You mused as your gaze fell upon Harry, sauntering through the crowd with ease and making a beeline for you and Peter. 

“There’s my favorite outcasts!” Harry roared as he approached, a wide grin spreading across his face as he lazily slung an arm over each of your shoulders, effectively wedging himself between you and Peter. You hadn’t noticed the way Peter stiffened at the action, the disappointment that glimmered in his dark eyes at being pushed further away from you. 

Instead, you just rolled your eyes at the label Harry had used for the two of you, jokingly shoving his touch off of you. You hardly considered yourself an outcast, though you had to admit that these parties had a tendency to turn you into a wallflower, leaving Harry to schmooze with potential investors all on his own while you and Peter drowned yourself in his finest booze. 

Harry bounced back quickly from your teasing rejection, his hand finding its way to your body once again, this time slipping around your waist and pulling you into his side. “You’re late.” He repeated the same phrase that had left your lips just moments ago. 

Your jaw fell slack immediately and Peter already struggled to stifle his laughter, having anticipated your reaction to Harry’s claim. “He’s late!” You jutted your finger across Harry’s chest, pointing it at Peter, “I have been here for almost an hour, Har.” Another huff as you retracted your hand, arms moving to cross firmly over your chest. “Maybe you would’ve noticed I was here if you weren’t so busy flirting with half of Manhattan.” 

When you had first arrived and realized Peter was nowhere to be seen, you planned on finding Harry, so used to always attaching yourself to one of their hips. But, when you finally found the boy, he was cornered by a few heiresses that were all desperately trying to sink their claws into the Osborn fortune. 

“Aw,” Harry cooed, slender fingers playfully squeezing your side as he spoke, “jealous much?” 

You glared up at him through your lashes, but didn’t make a move to pull away from his touch this time, “Not jealous-” you corrected him, “pissed off. You’re the one that forced me to come to this thing, and then you just went off to galavant with your admirers.” 

“Galavant, eh?” His eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile as he glanced at Peter. “How much has she had to drink?” 

Peter raised his palms like a white flag, relinquishing himself from any responsibility for your somewhat buzzed state. “I’m not drunk!” You swiftly declared, looking ever so slightly offended by the comment. 

Harry ignored your statement, reverting back to the previous topic, “Well don’t worry your pretty little head,” he let the arm that had been thrown over Peter’s shoulders fall, moving to lightly tap at your forehead as he spoke, finding amusement in the way your eyes narrowed at the teasing action, “you know I’ve only got eyes for you doll.” 

“God,” Peter groaned out, shaking his head at the interaction, “you’re never gonna give up, are you?” 

“And let you have her all to yourself?” Harry’s neck snapped in Peter’s direction, feigning a gasp at his best friend. “Only in your dreams, Parker.” 

“Funny you say that!” 

You lowered your head, cheeks puffing out as you exhaled loudly. “Here we go again.” You uttered to yourself, aware that neither of them would be listening to you now that they had gotten started. 

“Have you told y/n about what’s going on in your dreams lately?” Peter cocked his head to the side with a smug grin. 

It was truthfully a weak attempt to embarrass Harry, seeing as though the boy very quickly owned up to his lewd fantasies. “All the time, actually.” He hummed to himself, his tongue darting over his lips as he tried to push Peter further, “She totally gets off on it, too. Fuck, you’d love to watch the way our girl squirms when I tell her about all the nasty things I wanna do to her.” 

Our girl. 

A phrase that they both used quite often, as if they knew they’d always been forced to share you, despite the fact that each of them wanted to claim you for themselves. 

“Oh yeah.” Peter’s head bobbed alongside his words. “She’s clearly head over heels for you.” He sarcastically reassured Harry, a hand clamping against his forearm. “Not like she’s ignored all of your advances for a literal year now.” 

Of course you had. 

Ever since he returned from boarding school, Harry had tried relentlessly to win you over. While both the boys were both equally obsessed with you, Harry was always much more obvious about his affection. Of the two of them, Harry had always been the most dauntless when it came to getting what he wanted, whereas Peter tended to bottle his emotions up in fear of rejection. 

But, despite his efforts, for every advance Harry made there was a rejection waiting for him. You couldn’t pick between the two of them, couldn’t risk breaking one of their hearts by choosing one over the other. 

“I’m sorry,” a dry chuckle escaped Harry’s parted lips, the hand that wasn’t gripping your side moving to rest against his temple, “I forgot that she tells you everything that happens behind closed doors!” He quipped, smirking as he watched Peter’s brow raise at the antagonizing comment. 

“You should stop by Oscorp sometime after close,” he continued, finding far too much pleasure in the way Peter’s jaw clenched at his words, “let me know if you can hear her choking on my dick from the lobby.” 

Your hand collided with his arm, shaking your head at his perverted comment. It didn’t affect him much, though, only grinning down at you in response. 

“You’re an idiot.” Peter grumbled, shuffling his feet as he attempted to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. 

He knew that Harry was lying through his teeth, just trying to get a rise out of him. It had become a sort of game to them, both of them ruthlessly trying to get under the other's skin. Still, even knowing this, it had planted the image in his mind of you on your knees for Harry, and that was enough to make him feel sick. 

“C’mon Petey, play nice and maybe I’ll consider sharing her.” 

You stiffened at the statement, but only for a second, swiftly working to relax your muscles so Harry wouldn’t feel the way you had tensed. It still sent chills down your spine, though, evoking thoughts of your own past fantasies. 

In the past, Harry and Peter both had played a role in your dreams, their names falling from your mouth with a fervor that would make both of them weak in the knees. You loved them—both of them—and the thought of never having to pick between the boys that owned your heart left your chest feeling tight. 

“You two are being ridiculous.” You coughed out the words, shaking your head as if the action could rid your mind of thoughts coursing through it. 

Your interjection had caused Peter to back down from their little scuffle, his hands raised like a white flag to signal that he was willing to back down from the idiotic banter. He was always so quick to please you, so willing and obedient. Harry, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult, his icy gaze still fixed to Peter—as if daring him to consider the offer he made. 

So, you worked to distract him, a featherlight touch to his forearm, hoping to satisfy his constant need for your attention, your affection. But you hadn’t noticed the way Peter stiffened, unaware of the jealousy that coursed through him at the sight of you reaching for another man. 

It had worked, though, as Harry melted into your touch and let his sight shift back to you instead of his friend. “If you’re gonna force me to drown out the sound of you two being idiots then could you at least play something tolerable? What even is this shit?” You provided a change of topic, hand wildly waving towards the speaker system as you reference the pretentious classical music that blared from it. 

Harry scrunched his nose, shrugging as he spoke, “I don’t know, Beethoven?” 

“You do know that not every pianist is Beethoven, right?” Peter asked, brows raised. 

“Oh my god,” Harry threw his head back, an audible groan leaving his lips, his tone turning quiet as he gestured to the sea of people surrounding us, “who cares? Whatever it is, these old fucks eat it up, alright?” 

You let yourself laugh right alongside the two boys as the conversation shifted to something more lighthearted; your hand still resting against Harry’s arm, your gaze fixed on Peter. Still, though, the remark stuck in your head, replaying on a loop as you considered the possibility of it. 

Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t make you pick at all. 

a/n - here's the deal guys. my harry osborn piece i wrote? did trash in the tags cause apparently none of you are thirsting over dane dehaan the way i am. so now that means i'll be forcibly inserting him into all my peter fics because im in love with them both (i'm not gonna lie though i'd pick harry in a fucking HEARTBEAT) anyways hope you enjoyed this short lil best friend/love triangle/desperate pining blurb type thing