#and he's too tired to punch both of them

[floralovebot]

If you had to give Garth a new friend group who would it be?

that's rough.....

because honestly part of his charm is that he's extremely maidenless... well not maidenless he Is pulling hot babes left and right but friends?? ooh boy,,,

i wouldn't want to take away the fab five from him, despite how poorly they treat him at times. However, i do think it would've been really cool to see him with the new teen titans! i completely understand why he wasn't with them at that point, like i get it. but just from a character relations perspective, i do think this would've been a natural next step if he wasn't so self-deprecating (and busy in atlantis). dick and donna were consistently the nicest to him out of the fab five so he gets to keep some of that previous dynamic. wally is also there but,, roy isn't!!! no offense to roy i like him on his own but he was a big reason why garth left in the first place so. yknow.

but anyway, garth does have good relationships with kori, garfield, and victor. and i guess raven too but we don't really see that,, like ever. he's obviously not close to them, but they're not mean to him. which is a big thing for garth! kori seems to hold him in high regard too, at least after he becomes tempest, so it would've been nice to see their relationship actually progress to the point where she trusts him like that. like in the titans (1999) issue 19 where she says she trusts him with her life. like. what the fuck!! there are also multiple issues where garth and garfield have a little friendship going on (that one panel where garfield yells at arthur gives me so much life adghlj). and there are a few cute moments between garth and victor.

i really don't think he'd become like,, besties or family with any of them, but if i really had to give him More friends, i think they would've been the safest bet.

within the confines of underwater,,, letifos Should come back. idc if they're dating or not, but she should just always be there. for Me, personally <3 i think it'd be hilarious if tula and dolphin also came back at the same time. it'd never happen but who cares. the four of them can be in some weird polycule together aldhg

my second hot take is that garth and koryak should've become besties

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

hello hello!! your fic pez dispenser debris brings me immense joy. and i wanna know if the other nejire and tamaki will be showing up. id love to see their reactions to fucking #leku. and i’d love to hear your thoughts on them in general if you have any to spare. the big three have such a fun dynamic to me.

Tamaki will appear. I’m not fully settled on Nejire. In my mind, she moved to Kyoto not long after she graduated but keeps in very close touch (if you read the battle of Yokohama posts, she was there during that fight because she was visiting Her Boys and insisted on a Big Three Sleep Over, which is why the three of them were together when Izuku called to begin with). They have a group chat that she started blowing up when the Leku news hit. All of them are painfully, violently aware of the fact Mirio is absolutely not dating Izuku and also of the fact that Mirio’s probably close to drowning himself at the mere thought.

I do really like the idea of the Big Three having been sort of outcasts before they were the big three, and I think canon supports this reading. They were all sort of the weird kids. They were each other’s only friends. After they started rising in the ranks, they became more popular, but they all consider the others their main people.

I also like the idea that they became the Big Three because of each other.

They were friends before they were the big three. And it���s not a coincidence that the big three were all already friends. They pushed each other to grow in their skills and surpass everyone else.

The reason why they haven’t been more present in pez is actually the same reason why I didn’t have them open a hero agency together: they all need to grow separately from the others for a bit.

Like. Here’s Mirio, with two very skilled and experienced heroes at his side, waiting for Izuku to graduate so he can start his agency. Why not go into business with the friends he’s already been fighting with for years?

I see the Big Three as people who all, for one reason or another, decided that they needed to learn how to be strong on their own at the start of their career.

Take Tamaki. He’s childhood friends with Mirio. He was briefly referenced in one of the tumblr posts as one of Mirio’s staunchest advocates after he lost his Quirk. So why isn’t he heroes with Mirio?

Well, he sort of is. He’s got a mutual support agreement with him.

Time to derail into my favorite topic: the economic models underpinning fictional societies. As you can probably guess I’m great at parties.

Mutual support agreements are contractual devices that I came up with in response to the convoluted economic structure of heroics compensation I discussed a few posts ago. In that post, I discussed independent/underground v. agency models with respect to public compensation and how I think that there’s an impossibly complicated matrix that grants heroes portions of the local budget based on their statistics. Briefly, I discussed how that calculation would cause conflict with big name heroes taking credit for their sidekicks’ work because agencies would necessarily need to be counted as one entity for the purposes of public funding.

What happens when multiple agencies are involved in the same incident?

As a reminder, the reason why they need to assign credit for a bust to one individual is because agencies are funded as a whole. This is a grant system that’s meant to be more than just about paying a salary—the government is providing funds meant to go towards an office space, supplies, everything. You could not give everyone in an agency public funding separate checks under that model. Public funding is made out to the agency as a whole and it’s up to the agency as to how to use it. But if you have six people from the same agency who all register the exact same take down because they all participated—well now you’ve got the one job reported six times over for the same filing entity. That’s going to horrifically skew the funding calculation. The government’s paying for the same bust six times over and you just incentivized hero agencies to send their people all to do the same job because it pays the same to have six guys stop one criminal as it does to have six guys stop six different criminals separately.

But hey—sometimes it’s a six guy job. That would more appropriately be considered an enhancement to a job’s relative difficulty than it would be to giving credit for a takedown. After all, the same job could require “six guys” or “one All Might.” If you focus on the number of heroes an agency uses in a job than you do on how difficult that job actually is, then you’re inadvertently penalizing better heroes because Mid Tier Agency needed six guys to handle what you did on your own, but since they needed six whole guys they get paid more for the same thing that you could do solo.

But the reason for this one man credit structure is because you’re getting one check for the government per agency. But what about when heroes from different agencies team up? Big Hero is not sharing a government funding check with Even Bigger Hero, and there’s absolutely no way that every single team up is just fucking pro bono for everyone but one guy. That’d make it impossible. So the same job would have to get counted multiple times when it involved different heroic entities.

The fact that you were teamed up instead of solo would go into the relative value calculation of each independent job. You get the full pot if you’re solo, but if you’re sharing the load, you’re sharing the credit. But at the same time, how much credit you get would also have to be determined on a case by case basis. Like. A hero that evacuated three civilians contributed to a fight, but they in no way should get equal credit and compensation to All Might, who fought the entire villain team solo.

So say Big Hero Agency and Bigger Hero Agency are doing a team up for the good of Japan. Big Hero Agency initiated the investigation, did most of the legwork, and invited Bigger Hero Agency onto the job. However, when it came to actually fighting, Bigger Hero Agency absolutely carried the day. Big Hero Agency would have been dust if Bigger Hero Agency hadn’t been there.

Who deserves more credit and compensation?

There is probably some kind of governmental dispute/appeal board to settle disputes about compensation, but like. As someone who does government work. The government’s absolute favorite thing to say is “we are not babysitting you, fucking figure it out like big boys.” They’ll have a way to resolve disputes, but they will also heavily incentivize voluntary agreement amongst the parties.

Planned team ups probably have legal working shit out ahead of time. Spontaneous team ups or heroes stealing each other’s fights a la Mount Lady and Kamui Woods in the pilot are probably the biggest headaches.

But what about heroes that are always teaming up? They’re your go to. Your homeboy. The daredevil to your Spider-Man. You don’t file your paperwork together, but you’re still always fighting side by side. Are you renegotiating who gets credit for what in every single little fight?

Fuck no. That’s a huge pain in the ass. Enter the mutual support agreement. It’s a contract that has a bunch of clauses meant to help streamline deciding who gets credit for what and resolve disputes before they happen.

You wouldn’t just want this for compensation purposes. Say Big Hero commits the hero equivalent of police brutality. Now he’s being sued. He’s apparently not that big of a hero as the name implies, because he’s got no fucking money. You want more money for your client, so you need a deeper pocket to pull from. At the time of the incident, he was working with Bigger Hero Agency. They’re not the same agency, but it was Bigger Heroes bust, and they work together all the time. Big Hero is basically one of Bigger Heroes employees hidden behind a different corporate structure. Should Bigger Hero be liable for Big Hero?

That’s a big fucking court case that can be headed off at the pass by the fact that Bigger Hero put indemnification and liability clauses in its mutual support agreement. There’s a lot of issues that would arise from the practice of heroics that you’d want to govern ahead of time with a contract. So you sign a mutual support agreement.

But the silly little fake tumblr post also said they weren’t popular and mostly agencies like Idaten used them. So why is that?

Frankly, because it’s not very worth agencies while to team up with other agencies on the regular. The system doesn’t incentivize it.

If you have all of your own sidekicks on a job, you can steal credit from them. The same is not true for heroes from other agencies. You get more public funding if you staff a job with all people from your agency instead of having part of the credit go to other agencies. And you get to stand in front of the cameras and say “Big Hero Has Saved The City Again” instead of having to say “Thank You To Our Dear Friends From Bigger Hero Agency Who Carried This Team.”

Idaten is the exception because, well. It doesn’t care. Idaten’s priority is cultivating the necessary talent and teamwork needed to get the job done. It doesn’t care if it has to go outside of the agency for that. Fuck, Tensei’s canonically willing to reach out to vigilantes. Its genuine focus is saving people, so it goes against the grain of what the system incentivizes.

Mirio and Tamaki have a mutual support agreement. They’re out working together so much that Fat Gum’s agency approved an overall disliked mechanism to facilitate their team ups. They are heroes together—so why aren’t they in an agency together?

I think Tamaki wanted to spend his first year in heroics forcing himself out of his comfort zone so he’d improve. Fat Gum will force him in front of the cameras. He’s focusing on learning how to communicate effectively with the public and with the media, and Fat Gum has the sort of resources and infrastructure where Tamaki can devote the time to learning that and improving. If he was in an agency with Mirio, he’d use Mirio as a crutch to hide from something he genuinely wants to improve in. Fat Gum forces him to grow.

Mirio himself sort of had to go independent. For one, he and Izuku decided to start their agency not too long after Mirio got his license. It was before Mirio debuted. Izuku had just finished his first year. No one knew who either of them were, and they had no clue just how famous they’d both become before Izuku graduated.

They both figured they’d be a couple of nobody heroes with a dinky little agency right out the gate of Izuku’s graduation and were sort of genuinely excited at the prospect. They’d just be heroes together, which is all they wanted. They’d figured no one would give a shit about them until well after they started their agency and started working and that Izuku would have 0 offers to work elsewhere because he wasn’t even going to apply to agencies. So Mirio decided he’d stay independent until Izuku graduated so he wouldn’t be tied up in an agency contracts and they could just start fresh.

The other reason is that most agencies wouldn’t touch Mirio with a ten foot pole because he was Quirkless, and even with the ones that would, he suspected they’d sideline or coddle him because he was Quirkless. Being independent meant he could do whatever the hell he pleased. So he bought the Mirio Mom Van and, for a brief, glorious moment, convinced All Might to supervise their bullshit so he could start going on jobs with Izuku (students have to be supervised by heroes with a teaching license, which he wouldn’t be eligible for for the first three years of his career, except in exigent circumstances. He couldn’t have Izuku as an intern himself but All Might sure could). For a few beautiful weeks it was just Mirio, Izuku, and fucking All Might in the Mirio Mom Van going on stakeouts, all wearing the world’s stupidest mustaches. The UA internship program revoked permission for this arrangement not long after it started formally out of concerns for the legality of this arrangement since All Might was no longer an active duty hero, informally because All Might, Izuku, and Mirio is the stupidest and most reckless combination fucking imaginable and they are killing Aizawa from the stress they are killing him. So now Mirio works alone while he waits for Izuku to be fully licensed.

Nejire I kind of see as someone who moved away from her hometown right out of the gate of graduation but visited home very frequently, which is why she moved to Kyoto after graduation but was having a fucking sleepover at Mirio’s place when Yokohama happened. She takes the bullet train back at least once a month and spends the weekend bumming on Mirio or Tamaki’s couch. I think she wanted to see who she was away from home and there’d never be a better time to do it. I also think she’ll move back so that way she can work more fully with Her Boys one day, but wanted to push herself out of the familiar first.

All of the trio’s reasons for not working together quite yet are mutable, to be clear. Tamaki just wanted the experience early in his career or he knew he’d never learn the public relation skills he wanted to get. Nejire also just wanted the experience somewhere else before she put down real roots somewhere and is liable to move back to be with her friends and family. And Mirio’s on the verge of opening his own agency, so he doesn’t have to worry about getting sidelined by his boss anymore or getting tied up in a bad contract.

[boxwinebaddie]

uncle nina has a very long sixteen hr+ long flight ahead of her and the only thing getting me through is that i know when jerseykyle goes through tsa and has to whip his belt and his sweater off lookin like a 6ft tall gorgeous long haired ginger supermodel people almost start cryin

[mercvry-glow]

you, me, and empty space between us

parings. jack abbot x doctor!reader

warnings. widower!jack, age gap as always (jack late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), jack literally talks reader off the ledge, undefined relationship but they're clearly in love and going through something, unspecified mental health issues, panic attacks, possible suicidal ideation, talks of losing people, bittersweet ending though.

notes. ever since we learned jack was a widower i've been cursed with angsty thoughts. I think this one is really hard as we see both the reader and jack struggle with each other. I love them your honor, and I'm really in my noah kahan loneliness era for this man. as always any feedback is appreciated and I love all of you!

wc. 2700+

You don’t know when it had become so hard to breathe.

It wasn’t after the first patient death, or even the fourth or fifth. That was just life in the Pitt, and you had grown accustomed to it long ago… at least that’s what you thought.

It certainly wasn’t when he had walked in—Jack Abbot, all swagger and scruff, fresh on shift while you were finishing yours. You truly don’t know when you came to love him as more than a mentor. Maybe it was in the quiet, exhausted nights on his couch, or the rare mornings when your coffee mugs clinked in place of words.

Never open, always tucked away.

And maybe that’s why it hits you like a punch to the chest—because it’s something so small, something that you have no business caring about.

A glint of gold as he reaches for his first chart of the night.

His wedding band.

Still there. Still shining. Still hers.

And your breath just… goes. Like someone pulled the air from your lungs and replaced it with something heavy and wet and cruel.

You don’t even remember walking to the lockers. Just the click of the door behind you, the fluorescent lights buzzing too loud, and the burn behind your eyes as your hands shook, held tight against your sides. Everything became too much all at once. 

God, you're so tired.

Tired of the codes and the screaming and the silence that follows. Tired of watching children and parents die and pretending you’re not breaking a little more each time. Tired of watching your friends break each and every day more and more as this job steals their youth like it’s doing to yours. Tired of giving your heart to a man who, no matter how gently he touches you, will never touch you like you’re loved by him.

Not like he touched her.

You don't even cry. Not at first. You just run up the stairs, heart hammering like it's trying to escape, destination both known and unknown to your frazzled brain. Then you do cry—loud, ugly, shoulder-shaking sobs that don't stop. Not even when someone passes. Not even when your pager buzzes again.

You make it up to the roof before anyone sees you.

The cold Pittsburgh wind bites at your cheeks, but at least here, you can breathe again. 

Kind of.

 You wrap your arms around yourself, eyes burning as you stare out over the city like it's supposed to give you some kind of answer.

But it doesn't.

It never does.

You’re not even sure how long you’ve been up here.

The city stretches out below, distant and indifferent—cars moving like blood cells in some great, uncaring artery. You’ve spent your whole life trying to keep things alive, and now, standing here, arms wrapped around yourself in the wind, you’re not sure how to keep yourself going.

It’s not just Jack.

 It’s everything.

You’re tired in your bones. In your soul, if that’s a thing people really have.

Tired of the endless codes that ring like alarms in your dreams. Tired of holding hands that go cold while families scream down the hall. Tired of smiling when you’re empty. Laughing when your throat aches from swallowing everything you can’t say.

Tired of being second. 

To a memory. 

To a career.

 To a system that chews you up and spits you back out with new scars and fewer tears left to give.

You love your job. God, you do. But lately it feels like it’s eating you alive. And no one sees it. No one wants to see it.  Because you're the one who keeps it together. The calm in the storm. The smile at the desk. The one who always says, “I’m fine. Go. I’ve got this.”

But you don’t.

You don’t got this. Not anymore

You’re drowning.

And Jack—Jack is just the wound you thought you could bandage, only to realize it was deeper than you ever let yourself admit.

You see the way he softens when he talks about her, the few times you got to hear. 

The weight in his voice when he says her name.

And you? You’re the comfort. The quiet. The body he falls into when his ghosts get too loud, too much to handle alone.

But not the one he chooses.

Never the one he chooses.

A sob claws its way up your throat, and this time you don’t stop it. You sink, knees scraped by the roof's edge, standing past the metal railing and let it all go—the grief, the love, the years of being almost enough in every aspect of your life.

You cry until you’re raw. Until your breath hitches like a broken record.

Until you feel like there’s nothing left inside you. 

And still, the world keeps turning. The city lights don’t flicker. The wind doesn’t pause.

You are so deeply, achingly alone.

And in this moment, you don't even want to be saved. You just want to rest. 

To be done. 

“You know,” comes a familiar voice behind you, easy and low, “if you wanted to get me alone on the rooftop , all you had to do was ask. I would’ve brought you coffee.”

You flinch. Just barely. But he sees it.

Jack steps closer, hands tucked in his cargo pockets like he’s just wandered up here on a whim, not after checking every paitent room and hallway trying to find you. There’s that half-smile tugging at his mouth, the one he uses like armor—dry wit and soft hazel eyes, his whole coping mechanism wrapped in a single expression.

But the smile falters when you don’t answer.

When he really looks at you.

You’re standing with your hands pulled to your chest, fingers white-knuckled in your scrubs, eyes red and swollen. Shoulders shaking just enough to make him stop in his tracks after realizing you’re past the guard rail. 

“Hey,” he says again, quieter this time. “What happened?”

You shake your head. A tiny, useless motion. You can't even bring yourself to look at him, back still turned.

He steps toward you, trying to search your face. “Talk to me. Did something happen with a patient? Was it that kid from earlier? Or—”

“No,” you whisper, barely audible. “It’s nothing.”

“That,” he says, voice a touch sharper, “is a lie. And a bad one, kid.”

You let out a bitter little laugh that turns into another sob. “Everything’s just… too much.”

Jack doesn’t speak right away. Just watches you, the tension in his jaw building slowly. “You’re scaring me,” he admits, quietly.

“Fuck,” you snap through the tears. “Now you actually see me?.”

That stuns him. You can sense it—how his shoulders tighten, how his eyes scanning like they’ve missed something right in front of them.

You wobble, or try to move—your knees tremble under you, and Jack moves instantly, hands ready to grab you. 

You pull away.

“I’m tired, Jack,” you say, voice breaking. “So goddamn tired. Of being here. Of being overworked. Of watching people die. Of pretending I don’t care that you still wear her ring when you’re in my bed.”

Silence slams between you.

He swallows hard, words clearly stuck in his throat.

“I know she meant everything to you,” you say, softer now. “And I would never try to take her place. But it’s killing me. Being your person… Being the one you come to… but never for.”

His mouth opens, then closes again.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “And look, now I’m making my issues about you again. God, I’m tired of that too.”

Jack steps forward, hesitant, like he’s approaching something fragile. Or dangerous. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t want to make it real,” you whisper. “Because if I said it out loud, I’d have to admit that I’m not okay. That this job—this place—you—are breaking me.”

He’s quiet for a long time. The wind whistles around you both, cold and uncaring.

“I didn’t know,” he finally says. “I should’ve. But I didn’t. And I’m sorry.”

You look up at him, exhausted and open and completely undone. “I don’t want you to say sorry. I just… I wanted to matter.”

“You do,” he says, quick and firm. “You matter to me,”

You shake your head again, biting back another sob.

He doesn’t try to touch you this time. He just stands there in the silence you’ve created, eyes on yours like they’re the only thing he sees now.

And maybe—for the first time—they are.

Jack exhales slowly, like he’s trying to steady his own heart before he reaches for yours.

“You wanna know something?” he says, his voice rough but quiet. “First week I met you, I thought you weren’t cut out for this. All business, too rigid, straight spine, soft. Honestly? Scared the hell out of me, I thought you’d be gone by the end of the week.”

You huff, tired, but something like a breath of a laugh escapes you.

“But then you stayed two hours after your shift because a twelve-year-old was afraid of needles,” he continues. “And I saw it. That heart of yours—the one you hide behind clipped words and all that damn competence. You care so much it hurts you.”

He pauses, lets that sink in. You turn your face slightly toward him, just enough for him to see your profile in the wind.

“I know you think nobody sees you,” Jack says. “That you’re just some extra in other people’s stories. But I see you. I always see you.”

Your lips part, but no words come.

“You’re the one holding the line when everyone else is cracking. You’re the one who stays up on nights like this, falling apart where no one can find you. But I found you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He steps forward again, slowly, cautiously. Like he’s giving you every chance to step back under the rails and hoping you don’t choose the other way down.

“I don’t wear this ring because I’m not over her,” he says, tugging at the band absently. “I wear it because she made me better. And you… you keep me better.”

That stops your breath cold.

“I never meant to make you feel like you were just something temporary,” he says. “You’re not. Not to me.”

“Then why not just say it?” you choke, voice trembling.

He looks at you like he wants to. Like the words are right there on his tongue—but something stops him. Not fear. Not doubt. Just the weight of everything this moment holds.

“I’m saying what I can,” he says instead. “Until I can say it all.”

He steps closer, right in front of you now, eyes searching yours.

“You matter, okay? Not just as my best resident. Not just as a damn good doctor. You matter to me. You’re not alone in this. Even if you feel like you are.”

Silence again. Heavy, but different this time.

“I don’t know what happens next,” he adds, quieter now. “But I know I don’t want to face it without you.”

You feel something give inside you—something that’s been clinging to the edge for weeks, maybe months. You don’t fall apart again, not this time. But you do lean forward. Just a little. Just enough.

Jack reaches out to touch you, wanting to pull you in. Standing right there on the other side of the guard rails, steady as gravity.

 Letting you decide.

You stand there for a second, barely breathing. His words echo in your chest, ringing against all the places that have been cracked and hollowed out.

You matter to me.

It shouldn't be enough. Not after all this. But somehow, it is. Or maybe it’s just enough to stop the bleeding.

Your shoulders slump as the tension you’ve carried finally starts to unwind. You don’t fall into him, not dramatically. You just… lean. Your forehead comes to rest against his chest, tentative, uncertain. But you stay there.

And Jack? He doesn’t hesitate.

His arms move around you with a kind of quiet reverence—gentle but solid, like he’s anchoring you to the hospital roof. One hand settles between your shoulder blades, the other against the back of your head, cradling you like he’s afraid you’ll break again.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he murmurs against your hair.

“I scared myself,” you whisper back, voice hoarse.

“You could’ve told me,” he says, not accusing—just brokenhearted.

“I didn’t know how,” you admit. “I thought if I said it out loud, I’d lose everything and never come back together.”

Jack pulls back just enough to look at you. His thumb brushes gently along your wind bitten cheeks, catching a stray tear you didn’t even feel fall.

“You are coming back together,” he says, firm but soft. “Right now. Piece by piece. You’re still here. That’s what matters.”

You nod, barely, like you’re still trying to believe him.

“I don’t need you to be okay all the time,” he continues. “You don’t have to be strong for anyone. You get to fall apart. You get to feel this.”

“But what if it doesn’t stop?” you whisper, voice cracking. “What if it just keeps coming?”

“Then we’ll face it together,” he says, without missing a beat. “Shift by shift. day by day. As long as it takes.”

Your eyes search his, and for once, there’s no hiding behind sarcasm or guarded silences. Just truth. And maybe something deeper behind it—something he’s still not quite ready to name, but it’s there. Burning steady like a soft fire.

You close your eyes, letting yourself rest in the warmth of him, in the safety of this rooftop moment.

And for the first time in weeks—maybe longer—you take a full, deep breath.

You both stand like that for a long time—no words, just breath and heartbeat and wind. The hum of the city below feels miles away, like a different world. Up here, it's just the two of you.

Eventually, Jack shifts a little, his arms still around you. His voice is soft, barely above the wind.

“Hey,” he says gently. “How about we get back on the safer side of the rail, yeah?”

You realize, with a sudden twist in your stomach, that you’re still on the wrong side. Still too close to the edge, with nothing but cold air and steel keeping you tethered.

You don’t move right away. Your fingers grip the rail, not because you want to jump—God, no—but because the world still feels unsteady. Like if you let go, you might float off into something you can't control.

Jack doesn’t rush you.

He stays with you, warm and steady at your side, hands never leaving you. “One step,” he says softly. “Just one. I’ve got you.”

You look at him, and there’s nothing performative in his expression. No pity. No fear. Just calm, unwavering care.

You nod once. Then slowly, carefully, you swing your leg over the first bar. He helps you the rest of the way, hands guiding you gently, like you’re something precious. When both feet land solidly on the rooftop again, you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until it finally releases in a shaky exhale.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Safe and sound. Mostly.”

You laugh, barely. “I must look like a mess.”

“You look like someone who’s been through hell,” Jack says. “And is still standing. That’s not a mess. That’s a goddamn miracle.”

You look up at him, eyes glassy, and something flickers between you. Quiet. Heavy. Unspoken.

His hand lifts slowly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, then lingering—fingertips grazing your jaw, gentle as rain. He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize the moment.

“Can I…” he starts, then stops, catching himself. “I’m not asking to fix it. I just—”

You answer by leaning in.

It’s not rushed. Not desperate. Just soft. Slow. Like an exhale. Like the kind of kiss that says I’m still here. I still want this.

His lips meet yours, warm and steady, one hand still at your waist, the other against your cheek. There’s no fire in it—not tonight. Just light. Just steady comfort.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing a little easier now.

“You sure about this?” you whisper.

Jack doesn’t even blink. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure.”

You nod. You believe him. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe in yourself again, too.

mercvry-glow 2025

[mostly-imagines]

There’s A String Tied to My Lower Left Rib, Third From The Bottom

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka the professional boyfriend

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader wears dresses, sexual content at the end (18+)

Dick Grayson is a vigilante. He’s a master martial artist and gymnast. He’s something of a playboy and a heavy flirt. But the claim he really takes pride in is that he’s basically a professional boyfriend. That he’s your professional boyfriend.

And pride really is the right word. He’s so proud that he gets to have this pretty girl on his arm and buy her pretty things even when you insist you have enough. He loves getting to help you take your makeup off when you’re too tired and make you laugh like it’s his job. He’s absolutely gratified that he gets to be your prodigal, sweet boyfriend that, despite your protests, insisted on carrying all five of your shopping bags for you.

You step over an uneven stretch in the sidewalk and lean slightly against Dick’s shoulder. “I’m worried the navy one is too…much.” You say, thinking back to how the blue cocktail dress fit on you, how it stopped barely below your ass.

He furrows his eyebrows with a pout, “Too much?”

You look over at him, matching his expression. “It’s really short. I mean it’s cute and I like it, but…I don’t know, this is kind of a fancy event isn’t it?” 

He puckers his lips, shaking his head. “Short’s good. I like short.” Yeah, you’d noticed with the way his eyes had been glued to the hem of your dress, willing it to slip up just a little more.

You laugh, “And I’m sure you and all the old businessmen will appreciate it greatly.”

His face drops at that, not thrilled at the prospect of those, usually very sleazy, old men getting to see so much of you. “The black one’s good too.”

You peer over into one of the bags, “Or there’s the red one with the—”

Dick shakes his head quickly, “Not red.”

You snicker at that, knowing full well what his problem is with it. “Then why did I get it?”

“Just for me.” He pauses, “Or for something my brother won’t be at.” He mumbles, scanning both sides of the street. He shuffles the bags in his right hand onto his forearm so he can take your hand in his as you step into the road. “No, the black one looked great on you. And we won’t have to go searching for a matching tie.” 

Once you reach the other side he lets go of your hand and he circles behind you, nudging you over to the inside of the sidewalk.

You glance down at the row of bags littering his arms and the red indents beginning to mark his skin. “Will you please let me hold some?” You frown.

“Will you please hold my hand?” He echoes, matching your serious tone with faux urgency of his own. You deadpan him but take his hand anyway. You don’t notice it, but he’s got a dedicated gaze focused on your fingers intertwined in his.

You continue on down the street, hand in hand, the warm sun shining on your necks. You pick up the pace a bit as you approach your apartment building, aiming to get the door for your boyfriend. You reach for the handle only for Dick to call out, “Don’t touch that!” followed by him clamoring like you’re about to touch a hot coal, rushing over to beat you to the punch.

“Oh my god..” you mumble to yourself, biting back a smile. The bags haphazardly fall further down his arms, no doubt uncomfortably as he pulls the door open for you, pretending to be far more eloquent than he actually was. He gestures you in and smiles sweetly at you when you give him a flat look. 

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at him with amusement glittering across your face as you dig for your keys.

“Not a thing.” He grins, watching with adoration as you open the apartment door. Frankly, you’re surprised he didn’t attempt to juggle the bags and unlock the door himself.

He kicks the door shut behind him as you help slide the bags off of his wrists, piling them on the counter. “When do we need to leave?”

“Uh…” he glances at the wall clock, “Not till seven.” He places his hands nicely on your waist, looking down at your lips. “You wanna get something to eat before we go?”

You muse, “This is the one with those mini stakes, isn’t it?” He nods. “No, I wanna get my fill on those. Oh, and the bruschettas! I love these caterers.”

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

You break away from his gaze and turn to the counter, preparing to scoop the shopping bags up when you’re interrupted by his relentless fervor.

“Ah, ah.” He hooks a finger into the loop of your jeans, tugging you back to him. “Give me a kiss.” 

“Dick.”

“Just one.” Yeah, right. You oblige him though, pushing up on your toes to meet his lips. His thumb strokes your cheek as he kisses you deeply. You break the kiss after a moment only for him to chase your lips to follow it up with another. And then another. And another. He hums against your lips, smiling wide. “Thank you, baby.”

You pull back again and smile as you stop his chest with your hand when he follows. “Ah, I’m not new around here. I know where this’ll go if I let you.”

He nods complaisantly, “Then let me.” His eyes are focused on the small space between you, where his touch lingers along your ring finger. You lean up again and place a kiss on his forehead that has him getting hopeful, only to be met with disappointment when you back away from him, bags in hand. He throws his head back with a groan just to really hammer home the severity of his dismay.  

It doesn’t last too long though because the second you’re back in the room he’s trailing after you like a puppy, following you down to the couch. You roll your eyes at him when he opts to sit ridiculously close to you, though there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips that makes your act lose all credibility.   

He nestles his face into the crook of your neck and is clearly very pleased when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You exhale contentedly, resting your cheek against his head. You lie idle like that for a few minutes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and casting a daydreaming gaze out the window. And apparently, he was daydreaming too. 

“I wanna marry you.” He murmurs into your neck after a while. 

You laugh incredulously, “Have you been drinking when I have my back turned?”

“‘M serious.” He nudges you off him so he can look at you.

You hum, sweeping his hair back from his forehead. “You’re being very…” you scrunch up your mouth to the side, “…Ostentatious today.” 

He barks out a laugh, “Wow. Word-A-Day teach you that one?”

You shove at his forehead back with no real force, biting back a giggle. His eyes flicker back and forth between your mouth and the crinkle in your eyes as he grins. “I’m going to let that one go because you got me some really nice clothes today. As your repayment.” you say, running your finger over his lips. 

He takes your hand, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Let me marry you?” 

You sigh bashfully, “Dick—”

“Please?” He sticks his bottom lip out and gives you his puppy eyes, causing you to avert your gaze quickly. You’re not convinced he doesn’t have a superpower in that area.

You know he’s not really proposing right now, he’s too much of a romantic to do it like this. He’s just getting the idea in your head, getting you excited about it. It’s working.

“I’d be such a good husband to you.” He kisses your collarbone, “So good.” He murmurs against your skin, lips never departing. You struggle to keep your face neutral, making a point of closing your eyes in an attempt to increase your odds of success. He’s being nice though, you know. To let you play pretend right now when you know he could break your facade in a second if he really wanted to.  

“Mrs. Grayson…” he squeezes your hips, lips traveling further down. “Doesn’t that sound pretty?”

It really does. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about marrying him before. He’s nothing if not husband material and honestly you really really want to hear him call you his wife. Call him your husband.

Your hand moves to his hair, petting it softly as he goes on. “Buy you a nice ring. Pretty white dress ‘n a big party just for you.” He brushes your shirt up and trails open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your chest feels warm and you can feel your pulse thrumming all throughout your body.

He slowly guides your underwear down your thighs, his lips following the hem close behind. “Come home to you every night, kiss these pretty thighs,” He scoops both of your hands up in one of his, pinning them to your stomach. “Kiss this pretty pussy.” He places a chaste kiss on your clit and looks up at you expectantly.

You’re not nearly as hesitant on this as you’re pretending to be, and you both know it. But he’s perfectly fine with begging a little while you pretend you’re not lightheaded at the idea of marrying him. “I’ll think about it…” 

He grins at you before going in on your core without mercy.

He’s trying real hard to land that promotion.

🩵 reblogging = supporting; likes don’t do the job

[froggibus]

Dating Wade & Logan

Pairing: Wade Wilson x reader x Logan Howlett

Genre: hcs, mostly fluff, some suggestive content

Summary: how it would be in a relationship with these two

CW: poly? relationship, mentions of harassment, mentions of injury, jealousy, good luck dating these two, suggestive content, struggles with emotional intimacy, it’s been three years since ive read an xmen or deadpool comic sorry,

spoiler free!

it has been over a year since i posted anything marvel related but i saw deadpool & wolverine today (fantastic film, would recommend seeing it if you can!) and all i could think about the whole time was being in a relationship with these two ^^ if anyone has any thoughts, thirsts or requests for Wade & Logan, i will gladly take them rn!!

these motherfuckers (affectionate)

anyone who is bold enough to date one of them (let alone both) deserves a medal

however it is probably the safest you could ever be in a relationship

neither of them are that good at sharing but they are trying their best!! 

Logan can be so possessive and it does not help that Wade likes to push his buttons 

you will end up mediating a ton of fights ( & hopefully talking them out of a few) 

whenever they start yelling and getting into each other’s faces, you’re probably the only person in the world who can step in with no consequences 

most of the time it WILL end in sex and the only thing they will ever agree on is that they should fuck you right then and there

God help anybody who hurts you 

seriously both of these men are so protective and willing to throw down with a creep at ANY moment 

Wade will probably make a big joke out of whoever is bothering you and if they don’t back off, well…

rip to them 

Logan on the other hand has absolutely NO patience 

he’ll give them about 2 seconds to screw off before he’s knocking them out in one punch

neither are necessarily great with feelings so you’ll have to do a lot of the heavy lifting 

sometimes you’ll start crying and they’ll both be standing there side eyeing each other like ‘what do we do’

Logan will almost always offer you a drink the minute you seem stressed, tired etc 

meanwhile Wade tries to cut the tension and deflect with humour 

however if all you really want is a hug, all you gotta do is ask and they can never resist you 💓

you will have a lot of movie nights with them 

Wade or you will usually pick the movie  & Logan just sucks it up and watches

you’ll be snuggled up on the couch between them, your head on Logan’s chest and Wade’s head in your lap

if you fall asleep watching the movie, they’ll move heaven and hell to get you to bed 

but if either of them fall asleep? the other is shrugging it off and leaving them on the couch 

strong mfs love teasing you whenever they can too 

they’ll sandwich you between them just to watch you get flustered

both are clueless when it comes to the scale of injuries 

stab wounds are like paper cuts to them so neither really fret when you get hurt

there’s at least one incident where you get hurt pretty bad and neither of them realise it 

(it doesn’t help that you brush it off either) 

one trip to the hospital and two very stressed boyfriends later, they’re a lot more cautious afterwards 

you get to meet SO MANY cool people 

Jean and Scott especially love you, they think you settle the crazy that is Wade & Logan 

you’ve probably spent more than one drunken night on a couch at Xavier’s School 

one or both of them are also prone to disappearing randomly, sometimes for up to a week 

please call them out for it 

you’ll get so much attention you won’t know what to do with it

Logan especially can’t keep his hands off of you (even more so after a bad mission) 

he always needs to have a hand on your waist, a hand on your lower back, grabbing your thigh etc

Wade is a lot more casual and outward with his affections 

hand holding, resting his chin on your neck, standing behind you while you talk 

both LOVE holding you in their laps & have gotten into at least one (1) argument about it 

god help you if these mfs ever get jealous too 

Logan can be terrible whenever he gets jealous 

bonus points if it’s Scott that’s making him jealous too 

he’ll probably get all gruff and short with you

that or he’ll stride over to you and make a big show of shoving his tongue down your throat 

Wade will probably just make jokes when he’s jealous 

he’s not really a possessive guy so it’s pretty rare he’s genuinely jealous 

if he does get really jealous, he’ll probably make some weird threats that he passes off as ‘jokes’ (no one thinks he’s joking) 

it’s such a rare occasion that Logan probably films the whole thing cause it’s such a dumpster fire 

if they’re both jealous however?? 

you are in for a crazy night (JEALOUSY SEX JEALOUSY SEX)

masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! ^^ likes, comments & reblogs are much appreciated !!

[digitald0rk]

I WANT SOMEONE BADLY

pairing — mark grayson x gn! hero reader. [ implied childhood friends ]

synopsis — after a hard [ immature laughing ] night of fighting crime, you take mark back to yours to spend some extra time with him, one of your closest friends. he is a yearner, through and through. [ end his misery pls 🙏🏻 ]

warnings — mentions of healing from nail biting / picking, mark and you paint each other's nails, he helps with your skincare, crazy pining, like two suggestive paras nothing too freaky though!

w.c — 2.2 k.

a/n — YES IT'S A JEFF BUCKLEY REFERENCE THE TITLE I MEAN :D I WANNA WRITE SMMM BUT i have two exams back to back and then my boards after them in like two weeks 💔💔 im cooked. ALSO HAPPY EID MUBARAK TO ALL THOSE WHO CELEBRATE ^_^ we getting rich this year gang 🤑🤑🤑 ALSO TYSM FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! luv you all mwah <3

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog @hihowyoudoin00 @fairii-majii @hepdeerness [ lemme know if you wanna be added! ]

“m- invincible,” your little slip up makes him chuckle, “pretty sure no one's gonna hear you on top of the highest rooftop in the city, but okay.” he teases you so he doesn't end up staring at you like you're the only person in the world.

“you can never be too sure,” you huff, playfully shoving him a bit followed by a fond eye roll when he pretends like you've punched his guts out or something, dramatically groaning and all. 

“i was just wondering if you wanna come over? i barely have time to spend with you when i’m not being a superhero,” you start, slightly hesitant.

“ooh sleepover?”

“i mean if you want, sure.” you smile, happy to be spending time with him outside of beating people up.

stop smiling at him, please. he's already a lovesick fool, don't do this to him.

“yeah, i’m down!” he says, mentally scolding himself for sounding a little too excited, getting up he stretches a little, “let's go.”

you two fly together to your house, laughing at some stupid thing you saw, a meme or some other ridiculous thing — he wants to record your laugh and play it again and again, although his mind at night does just that so maybe there's no use of it.

he's laughing with you but his heart is beating like a drum, thank god your powers don't include super hearing or he's sure the super loud thump thump of his heart — which belongs to you and only you be concerning, 

he catches a whiff of your perfume, the one you always wear — wait your hair smells different, is that a new conditioner? or shampoo? it smells nice, awfully nice. he takes a deep breath. get it together mark.

he has to maintain a little distance before he ends up doing something stupid like burying his face in your hair and kissing your head.

soon enough he finds you two on the balcony of your house, you slide open the window to your room, leaving it open for him to follow you in.

his palms feel sweaty, he's been here countless times. you two have even slept on the same bed twice. yes, you both were like ten but still!

he takes another deep breath, he steps into your room, you're nowhere to be seen. he hesitantly sits on your bed and of course it smells like you. this isn't good, his heart is going to give out.

he's toying around with your little black cat plushie when he hears the bathroom door unlock, eyes darting to your figure coming out, you've changed into your favorite comfortable pajamas.

he's going to die.

the soft material stretches over the curves and dips of your body in a way that has him gripping the plushie a little too hard.

“you're gonna suffocate him,” you joke, your voice snaps him out of it and he relaxes his grip on the soft back plushie.

flopping down onto the bed with a tired groan you prop yourself up on your elbow to face him.

the atmosphere is unusually tense, or well at least to mark. the soft flutter of your eyelashes and the way your shirt sightly rides up, revealing a slither of your soft skin has him acting like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

“heard you actually got a good grade for once in chemistry.”

he huffs, nodding with a smile, “believe me, i’m just as surprised as you are.”

the tension breaks and you two fall into easy conversation, like always. he can't keep the smile off of his face when you pull out some seance dog issue to read together and it ends up in him explaining some villain’s origin story to you.

“yeah, so honestly it's not his fault-”

“i think his biggest crime is his new outfit” he laughs at your comment.

your body would occasionally brush against his. sometimes your knees bumping or elbow nudging him when you tease him about something, he wishes he could hold you and shower you with all the affection, give you everything he has.

“i’ve been trying to grow out my nails,” you put your palm flat against the sheets, showing him your progress so far, he knows you've been trying to break the habit of picking and biting your nails. he takes your hand in his without thinking, his thumb tracing over your long nails, “looks good,” a proud smile stretching across his lips.

“thanks, I've been meaning to paint them-”

“can i paint them?” mark blurts out, he honestly just wants to hold your hand for as long as you'll let him.

you jokingly make a show of pretending to think before nodding, “sure.”

you get out of bed, opening your closet to take out a small box of all the nail polishes and other supplies you own, he excitedly looks through the box, pulling out a pretty blue shade, giddy at the thought of his suit’s main color matching with your nails.

he helps you settle your hand on a small towel so your bed sheet doesn't get stained, he uncaps the small bottle, getting to work, he'd grumble a little when he messes up, his teeth slightly dig into his bottom lip as he focuses on painting your nails and every time his hand would make contact with yours — even the slightest bit of contact leaves him longing for more.

he listens to you speak about something that happened at school last wednesday, his heart rate would pick up everytime you'd say his name in that pretty voice of yours.

he looks so proud himself when he finishes painting all the nails on your right hand, gently blowing on them so they'd dry faster, you playfully join him, blowing on your now blue nails, your breaths mingle and oh boy he's holding himself back from kissing your knuckles and telling you how beautiful you are.

you examine his painting skills, watching him put nail polish on your left hand’s nails.

he works in comfortable silence, using the crumpled up ball of tissue to wipe off any excess blue liquid that is around your nails.

“you're actually good at this, makes me wonder if you've ever painted someone else's nails before,” you mutter, his eyes dart up to hold your gaze for a moment, he'd hold it for longer but he knows it'll unravel him, it'd just end up with him pouring out his feelings — baring his heart to you.

“nope, it's actually my first time,” he admits, putting the cap back on and once again blowing at your nails, he sneaks in a small brush of his thumb against your knuckles as he helps your hand up — which is just an excuse to touch you, he folds the small towel and puts it back in your small box of nail supplies.

“do you like them?” he asks.

“yeah, looks really pretty. thanks mark,” you flash him a happy smile and he's over the moon.

“yeah, real pretty,” he whispers, except he's not only talking about your nails, he's talking about you — all of you.

the moonlight along with the dim fairy lights of your room make you look like a literal angel, he swears he can see the wings and halo.

“let me return the favor?” you ask, if only you knew he'd give you the world if you let him, he doesn't even have to think before he's nodding, a dumb lovesick smile makes it's way onto his face as he lets you maneuver his hand around and paint his nails a pretty blue — the same shade he picked for your nails.

meaning you two are matching, he finds that adorable. he also finds you adorable and wants to just bite your cheek, just a little nibble. he shakes his head slightly as if he's shaking the thought away which works, not really.

“look we're matching!” you put your hand besides his, your long nails matching his in the same blue shade. “yeah we are,” he softly mutters, wanting to lace your fingers through his but ultimately holds himself back.

he feels sad when you pull your hands away once you're done painting his nails — he would hold your hand for eternity if you let him.

he feels the tension again, his eyes lingering a second too long on your figure as you put the supplies back in your closet, with your back turned to him he can only think about one thing, you — your waist and how he'd love to grab it while he presses needy kisses all over your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks, he wonders how you'd whisper his name when his touch gets a little rough and demanding, squeezing and groping all he can reach-

woah there, can't afford a boner here mark, calm down.

he wants to kiss every inch of your body and worship you, he wants — no, he needs to.

he shifts a bit under the sheets when a familiar feeling starts to settle in his gut, waiting for you to come back to bed. although he's almost sure it'll only increase the intensity of the heat he's feeling.

you crawl back into bed, shifting around to find a comfortable position. thankfully, your stupid jokes ease his nerves a bit. he finds himself leaning closer to you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so here you two are almost pressed against each other, lying side by side as you two watch tiktoks on your phone, wrapped in your balnket.

“why is your whole fyp brainrot?” he'd complain and then end up laughing, although he insisted it wasn't funny.

a few more giggles and shared laughter later, he realizes just how close you two are to each other, he'd barely have to move to kiss those pretty lips of yours, would you taste like that slushie you two shared earlier? he wants to find out, he really wants to.

a small yawn escapes your lips and he swears he falls in love over again.

“tired?” he asks softly, as if speaking a little too loud would ruin the tranquility of it all. 

“mhm.”

“i'm not letting you watch tiktoks till 3am, come on, let's get you to sleep hm?”

he takes your phone away, his fingers brushing against yours, the contact making his heart skip a beat.

“i still have to do,” another yawn, “my skincare,” you mutter, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

he sheepishly offers to do it for you, he quickly gets out of bed the second you tell him what you need and where your skincare products are because if he stays this close to your sleepy form a second longer he'll end up kissing your forehead and saying those eight letters he's been meaning to say for years.

he brushes your hair out of your face, helping you with your skincare. he rubs the sweet smelling moisturizer into your skin gently, first your hands, he smiles when he sees his nails matching yours, he's never going to shut up about this moment.

then he helps you apply it to your face, taking his sweet time savoring the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, his rough calloused hands working skillfully.

“mark?”

“hm?”

“thank you, seriously you're the best.” 

he's going to scream, he's glad your eyes are closed shut or otherwise he's sure you'd be able to spot the flush that adorns his cheeks.

then comes the serum, and finally the cherry flavored lip balm. you pucker your lips and glide the tube across your lips, coating them in a shiny slightly sticky layer.

great, you just made them more kissable. he's going to crash out.

you innocently offer him some, he can't say no to you, even you should know this by now.

his heart picks up again when you apply your lip balm to his slightly dry lips, going back and forth a couple times for good measure, his lips now shiny.

and then the realization hits him — he just indirectly kissed you. his heart might as well just beat out of his chest with the way it's pounding so hard against his ribs, like a drum.

his self control is hanging on by a thread, you tuck yourself and him in bed, sleepily mumbling, “goodnight mark,” you sound so sweet, his name on your tongue — sweeter than honey, it’s enough to drive him crazy.

and as your eyes close to get some much needed rest, he mumbles back, “goodnight.”

once he's sure you're fully asleep, he adds, “goodnight my angel,” stroking your head gently, reverently.

he presses a small kiss to your forehead, maybe, just maybe one day, he'll tell you how his heart aches for you, how it longs to hold you and be held in your loving arms — his love for you is consuming, his heart overflowing with it, he's sure if you cut open his chest, your name would be seen engraved on his heart and he wouldn't have it any other way, he will always love you.

even if you don't.

but he prays everyday that you do.

© digitald0rk 2025. do not repost / steal any of my work or you'll get explosive diarrhea and rexsplode! want more? click here ★

[inhogf]

childhood bully, Gong Yoo.

· contains: dead dove do not eat, unprotected sex, dub-con, dark content, manipulation, bondage, blackmail, 🍇, mentions of ab*rtion · note: first fic and im not very proud of this !! ill probs edit this later soo like stay tuned

it had been three weeks. three whole weeks since gong yoo, your biggest bully, recorded you sucking your boyfriend's dick inside the male toilet stalls. your boyfriend would pull his pants up, ditching you and running away, leaving you to be cornered by your sweet senior gong yoo— who'd threaten to post the videos up on the school public board if you don't do as he says. he'd chuckle, staring down at your glossy eyes as you hoped he'd spare you just this once; unbeknownst to the fact his boner got even harder just by seeing you cry.

up until now, you've been rotting away at your house, terrified of what gong yoo would do when you went to school the next day. so you didn't. your mom would be worried sick, wondering why her sweet innocent child was missing school for days on end. your only excuse was being sick. after all; being home was your escape. your escape from gong yoo and from all the fucked up shit he'd do to you.

little did you know, gong yoo would find your address from the school's physical database after convincing his homeroom teacher he needed it for something important. after all, his punching-bag princess was important to him. he'd time it perfectly, waiting for when your parents left for work, and show up to your house; his school backpack filled with all the things he'd need for you. your neighbours were completely oblivious to what was going on. after all, who would suspect such a pretty looking boy all dolled up in a school uniform?

he didn't dare ring the bell. why would he? he had opened up the window and climbed into your kitchen, taking a quick note of all the surroundings and potential threats (the kitchen knives ♡) before making it all the way up to your room. your door was halfway open, allowing him a perfect view of you laid up on your bed reading a book.

you were in a loose shirt, and such dangerously short pants, you're so daring. gong yoo palmed the growing tent protruding through his pants. you made him sooo hormonal, and you didn't even know.

“hello, you.” he'd walk in with stomping footsteps, letting his presence be known. he's no pussy. you jumped up from the cavern you had been rotting in for the past few weeks hiding from him. your mind racing to get the nearest weapon you could find. all you could muster up in your hands was your bedside clock, daring to throw it at him.

he lunged at you, pinning you down to the bed as he shushed you, his strong arm holding yours above your back as your face was forcefully smushed into your pillow with his other arm.

“get the fuc- agh- away from me-!!” he held you down with his bodyweight as you'd wriggle in attempts to get him off— you're so innocent, you don't even know that turns him on even further. he'd grab a rope from his backpack and tie your swollen thin wrists up first, leaving your legs free.

“be still, and we can make it easy for both of us.” he'd turn you around and spread your legs apart, your legs attempting to kick away his hands yet all attempts fall futile under him. who knew teenagers were that strong?

eventually, you got too tired for it all. your kicking had stopped yet your crying grew louder and your nose runnier. it was all such a sight to see for gong yoo and his hormonal little brain.

he fumbled with his belt and unzipped his jeans, just sooo greedy to pound your pretty pussy until it had memorized his thrusts. he hooked a finger on the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down in one swift motion prior to practically ripping your panties off. he just couldn't wait to nut in you.

“you're enjoying this? getting fucked your bully? what a fucking slut.”

your own body had betrayed you as your leaking pussy was displayed to him. you hate to admit it, but your panties got soaked right when he entered the room. maybe, just maybe, he's right about you being a slut.

he'd jerk his fat cock off for a few seconds before aligning it up with your pink, leaking, pussy. he wanted to do you raw, his precum already beading up on his thick tip already.

he let out a hearty groan as he threw his head back. it was as tight as he imagined it to be. your juices had made it so easy for him to slide in, yet so painful for you. who were you to blame? his size was simply so fucking big. he gave you zero time to adjust and started thrusting it all in like a pussy-hungry little baby. you were so tight around his girth, your pussy practically denying permission to his body. all of it was too much for your tiny head as your brains were being fucked into mush.

he was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, his balls slapping softly against your ass. he had you folded up like a book— all while you could do nothing but whimper and cry. your sweet pleas were music to his ears. you had to admit, though; his cock felt so fucking good rubbing against your walls like that. he did not give a fuck about making you cum though.. :c

“if you squeeze around me like that, i-i'm gonna fuckin’ nut..” he groaned, as his thrusts got inconsistent and sloppier indicating that he'd cum soon. your swollen red pussy was absolutely destroyed beyond repair. you were being such a little baby for him— crying while you were about to get your uterus filled, not caring about condoms or pulling out.

with one final thrust, his cum seeped into your cervix filling you up, as he rolled his stuttering hips and rode out his orgasm. he cummed so much, who knew his balls could store this much liquid? he buried his head into the crook of your neck and you could feel him breathing sososo fast, it was almost cute.

"take the pill."

cc @inhogf dont steal

[josephandrewstarkey]

beach fight - part 1

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, cussing, topper, fighting, mentions of cheating, Ruthie

disclaimer: this is so satisfying to read — requests are open!!

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

The Pogues were lounging on the beach, enjoying the rare moment of peace. Y/N tried to relax, but the air felt tense, like something was about to go down. She couldn’t help but notice the Kooks pulling up in their flashy cars, parking way too close. Rafe, Topper and the rest of their stupid crew stepped out, making sure everyone saw them.

The last thing Y/N needed was to see Rafe. After everything he did— cheating on her with Sofia. it still stung. they had a thing going on for a while, he changed when they were together— but that all went away when Sofia happened. And now, here they were, together, acting like nothing had happened

Topper and JJ had made a quick agreement not to start anything. Both knew things could get messy fast, so they decided to keep it chill for the day.

Everyone settled back into their spots, but Y/N could feel the tension in her muscles. She couldn’t help glancing over at Rafe, who looked too comfortable around Sofia, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder. Her stomach twisted with a mix of anger and hurt.

Suddenly, Kiara gasped. “Guys, look!”

The Pogues’ attention snapped to the tiny turtle hatch making its way to the ocean.

Everyone gathered around, watching as the turtle moved slowly through the sand. It was a rare moment of quiet wonder, the kind that reminded them why they loved this place.

But then the loud roar of an engine shattered the peace. Ruthie’s truck tore through the sand, heading right for the turtle, swerving dangerously close to the Pogues.

“Watch out!” JJ yelled, grabbing Kiara and pulling her out of the way.

The truck barely missed them, the tires kicking up sand. Ruthie laughed from inside, clearly amused at the chaos she was causing.

“She almost killed them!” Kiara said, horrified, looking back at the little turtles still struggling through the sand.

Y/N clenched her fists, biting her tongue. Her heart raced with anger, but she tried to hold it in. Not yet, don’t explode yet.

But Ruthie wasn’t done. She spun the truck around, her laughter echoing through the air. As she drove past them again, she leaned out the window, holding a drink. Without warning, she tossed it right on Kiara, drenching her in sticky liquid and ice.

Kiara stood there, frozen, dripping wet. “Are you kidding me?”

Y/N felt the last thread of control snap. “Don’t” John B muttered, trying to keep the peace.

But Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She stormed toward Ruthie, eyes blazing with fury, not caring what anyone said.

“Y/N, don’t!” John B called after her, but it was too late. The anger that had been building for months—Rafe’s betrayal, seeing Sofia here, Ruthie’s blatant disrespect—had reached its breaking point.

Y/N marched right up to Ruthie, who was standing by her truck now, smirking at the mess she’d caused.

“What’s your problem, you bitch?” Y/N spat, her voice shaking with rage.

Ruthie sneered, completely unfazed. “What’s yours, Pogue? Go cry about it with your dirty friends.”

That did it. Without a second thought, Y/N grabbed Ruthie by the shirt and shoved her back, hard. Ruthie stumbled, caught off guard, but before she could react, Y/N swung her fist, landing a solid punch to Ruthie’s face.

Ruthie shrieked in pain, clutching her nose as blood started to drip. “You psycho!”

The Kooks looked on in shock, unsure of what to do. Sofia’s eyes widened as she watched Y/N completely lose it. But she noticed something else—Rafe wasn’t running to Ruthie’s defense. Instead, his eyes were glued to Y/N, a mix of anger and concern flashing across his face.

Ruthie tried to fight back, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She grabbed Ruthie’s hair, yanking her down toward the sand as Ruthie let out another scream. Y/N’s fists flew, fueled by months of pent-up rage.

“Y/N!” Rafe’s voice finally broke through, but she didn’t stop. He rushed over and grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her off Ruthie. “That’s enough!”

Y/N struggled against his grip, still fuming. “Let go of me!”

Ruthie lay on the ground, crying and holding her bloody nose. Y/N had done enough damage, but the fire inside her wasn’t out.

Rafe held her tight, his breath warm against her neck as he tried to calm her down. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Get your hands off me, Rafe,” Y/N snapped, finally breaking free of his grip. She spun around to face him, her chest heaving. “What am I doing? I’m doing what you should’ve done—keeping your bitchass friends in check.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes, but Y/N didn’t give him a chance to respond. “You’ve been running around with these Kooks, pretending like nothing matters, while you’re just as bad as them. You cheated on me with her!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she pointed at Sofia, who was standing frozen, watching the whole scene unfold.

Rafe clenched his jaw, but there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “That’s not—”

“Don’t even try to defend yourself,” Y/N cut him off. “You lost that right the second you chose Sofia.”

Sofia, who had been silent this whole time, shifted uncomfortably as Rafe’s attention stayed focused on Y/N. She could see how much Y/N still affected him, how his whole demeanor changed around her. His concern, his frustration—it was all for Y/N, and that realization stung.

Y/N turned her back on Rafe and marched back toward Ruthie, who was still sitting in the sand, clutching her bleeding nose. Before anyone could stop her, Y/N grabbed Sofia’s drink from the hood of the truck and dumped it right over Ruthie’s head.

Ruthie gasped, soaked and defeated, blood and soda dripping down her face.

“Don’t ever mess with my friends again,” Y/N hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Rafe watched in shock, still standing frozen in place, as Y/N walked back toward the Pogues. He barely noticed Sofia next to him, her face twisted in jealousy and confusion as she realized how much control Y/N still had over him.

The Pogues erupted in cheers as Y/N rejoined them. JJ slapped her on the back, laughing. “Hell yeah, Y/N! That was awesome!”

Kiara, still wiping the drink off her, grinned. “You really know how to handle things.”

But as the Pogues celebrated, Rafe stayed behind, his eyes locked on Y/N, conflicted emotions swirling inside him. Sofia glanced between them, noticing the way Rafe’s attention was fixed on Y/N, and it was clear: no matter what had happened between him and Sofia, Y/N still had a hold on him that Sofia could never break.

part 2 here

[nochepsicodelica]

. ๋࣭݁ ｡˚ The Drunken Collection

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone vibrating and sluggishly reach to grab it from where it rests on Toji's nightstand. You squint at the blinding brightness of your screen and answer the phone.

-Hello?- You say, your voice quiet from being abruptly woken up. You get a deep laugh on the other end as an immediate response.

-Who's this?- Toji gasps after checking his phone and seeing your contact name and picture on the screen. -It's my babyyyy. My baby baby.-

-Toji...- you start, unable to get through the sentence without letting out a tired laugh. He sounds drunk. -You okay?-

-No, I don't know where you are. I checked every room in this stupid house. It's like a fuckin' maze and I can't find you. Are you actually hiding from me, doll?-

You hear him open another door, followed by an almost inaudible "hello" away from his phone, and then a few seconds of silence, before he slams the door shut again. You figure you should let him know where you are before he breaks one of the doors from the force he's using to shut them.

-Baby?- you call, hoping he's listening.

-Not in that one either. Damn it, ma. You're scaring the hell out of me. Just... just tell me where you are. Gonna fuckin' throw up... Where are you?-

-Toji, go have some water and relax. I'm not there. I'm home, in bed.-

-Really? Why the hell am I even here, then?-

-You're out with friends, baby. Don't worry too much about me. I was sleeping just a couple minutes ago.-

-Sleeping? Without me?- He scoffs, a sudden mild sting in his chest taking main priority over his nausea. -You don't miss me, do you?-

-I do, baby. I miss you lots, but...-

-Then, i'm coming home. Easy. Byeee, love you.-

Before you can get another word in, you hear the dial tone. You sigh and click your phone off, before rolling off of Toji's side of the bed and transporting to the living room to sleep a little longer on the couch, since you have a delivery coming soon.

Forty minutes later, you wake up to the sound of knocking. You spring off the couch and make your way to the door. Looking through the peephole, you see Toji and Shiu, a notable contrast in their demeanors. Shiu looks composed, as usual, and Toji... not so much. You open the door, greeting both of them with a smile.

"Hey, Shiu. Thanks for bringing him home," you say, opening the door a little more for them.

"Ah, it's not a problem. He threatened to punch a hole in the wall if I didn't drive him home, immediately. Kept whining and crying about how you went to sleep without him." The brunette chuckles.

"Hiii, pretty baby," Toji coos at you, cheesing so hard that his cheeks go red. The smile drops when he turns to the man behind him. "Shiu, go 'way. Gonna treat my girl real fuckin' good." Toji turns to look at you again with a devilish smirk on his face, before waddling over and shrinking you in his embrace.

"Toji." You manage to peek at the spiky-haired man behind your giant, offering him a polite smile through the squishing you endure from Toji.

"Nah, he's right. The wife's waiting for me, so I do gotta scram."

"Thank you, Shiu. I really, really appreciate you bringing him back. Say hi to your lady for me--" You cut yourself off with a sound that resembles the squeak of a dog toy when Toji squeezes you tighter in his arms.

Shiu laughs, nodding in response to your extended greetings. "Will do. Goodnight."

The door shuts and it's just you and Toji. Certain parts of his shirt reek of alcohol, like he spilled some of it on himself and it dried up.

"Baby, that was rude," you say, lifting your head off of him.

"Mm," Toji grunts, dismissively, his arms keeping your body firm against his. "Not my fault he wouldn't leave. Rushed him for a reason, too. Wanted to see my baby, already." He smirks at your perplexed expression, before leaning in and stealing a kiss from you. Yep, you can still taste what he drank.

He groans, like he just took a big sip of cold water on a scorching hot summer day. "Been wanting to do that for hours. More, more," he says, leaning in again. You give him a couple more kisses before pulling away. "Gimme a kiss, yeah, baby?" he requests instantly after. You try not to laugh at how he sounds like the birds in those funny videos, where they talk and make the obnoxious kissy noises.

"Last one, Toji. We have to--" he cuts you off by putting his lips on yours. Not exactly a kiss, but your lips are right up against each other, and you can hear him humming out giddy little laughs. When he pulls away, he makes a popping sound with his mouth—his rendition of the obnoxious kissing noise—and smiles like an idiot. This manages to break your composed bearing, easily luring out the laughter you tried so hard to stifle. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing," he says, with a dumb grin. "One more, one more."

You want to see if he does it again, so you regress what you said about that last one being the last one, and let him kiss you. Lo and behold, he makes the popping sound, again, right after separating from you, following it with a chuckle.

"Again?" He asks, not waiting for you to answer before he steals another kiss and does the pop! again.

"That's how you kiss?" You ask him, unable to contain the smile on your face.

"Mhm. You like it, huh? You want more, but you just don't wanna admit it." He gives you a teasing grin. "Don't even-- don't even worry, doll. I see you. You're all I see," he says, guiding your head back to rest on him. He smiles with his eyes shut, something that could easily lead to him tipping both of you over if he falls asleep. "Missed you lots, bug. Bug... mmm..." He sighs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Got myself a little lovebug," he murmurs, a small laugh following.

"Yeah, I missed you, too. Don't you want to go to bed?" You ask, not moving in his sturdy hold.

"Are you going, too? I'm not gonna go if you're not going, so don't even try to send me off alone."

"Toji." You giggle, shifting to look at him, again. "Why wouldn't I go with you? We always sleep together."

"I don't know, maybe sleeping without me, earlier, made you realize you like sleeping without me, better."

"You're still on that?" You ask, only getting an affirmative hum in response from him. "I slept on your side of the bed, if that makes you feel better," you say, attempting to reason with him. Again, he simply hums. "I even hugged your pillow, and used your nightstand. The whole time, I was hoping you were having a good time with your friends, and then, I fell asleep. I fell asleep thinking of you, baby."

A smile forms on Toji's lips, his scar lifting, like the rest of his features upon taking in this new piece of information.

"Yeah? You thought about me? You missed me?" There's a gleam in his tired, fern-colored eyes, as he looks at you, awaiting your response.

"Of course, I did. We weren't in bed together, so of course I was going to miss you and wonder about you."

He laughs, the sound coming off as something of relief and release of what gnawed at him for way too long. "Okay," he chuckles. "Yeah-- yeah, I forgive you, mama," he says, pulling you into a bear hug that is so tight, that it lures strained groans and squeaks from you, due to the pressure on your body. "Love you," he murmurs, pressing multiple quick kisses to the top of your head. "Fucking love you, gorgeous. Love you."

"Love--" you snicker. "Love you, too, Toji. Let's go to bed, alright?"

"Mhm. Take me with you," he says, releasing you from his hold and giving you his hand, entrusting you to guide him to the room, while he trails behind you, slowly, like a shadow.

[acid-ixx]

no pain, no gain, right?

"is this all a game, or are they all secretly masochists?!"

nah, imaging being kidnapped by the batfam, neglected or not, romantic or platonic, and being expected to treat your abduction as merely normal, to love them like you've known them for your entire life rather than strangers who randomly decided that you're the object of affection they'd focus on their attention on one day—

do they honestly think you'd fall for their honeyed words? of course not! you're fucking trapped with both men and women alike with physical capabilities enough to trap you in a headlock or in a bear hug. they could kill you with a damn finger jabbed into your neck. is that not a valid enough reason for you to try and constantly fight them?

if you're a person bound on the feistier side, the first course of action you'd commit on, say, dick who's known to be the most physically affectionate, the neediest of them all - who's constantly kissing you, playing with your hair and laying his head on your chest - would be your nails digging deep into his skin and dragging it along his back, or trying to throw a punch into tim's face when you feel he's been staring into you rather than at you far too deeply for your liking, watching the blood drip down his nose like a faucet right after, as long as it means his eyes would leave your body for just a damn second.

whatever they're doing, even if they're always assuring you that they're doing this out of love, out of protection, out of their deep-seated paranoia that out there, you're not safe, you won't survive; their actions are all done for you — yet they'll always be met with you threatening to bite or chew their faces off. they're not your damn family, or lovers, or whatever fantasies they think they could reenact with you, and they know damn well that you won't be giving up soon, not at all—!

yet you don't know that behind your fiery side are those willing to let the fire burn much longer, those who throw more logs and gasoline into the ever-burning pit of rage and spite that crackles at your heart.

jason trying to trap you into his muscly arms only warrants your fight-or-flight instincts, akin to a gothamite walking past the crime alley, kicking and scratching at the man just wishing for a day of comfort as he sighs and nuzzles his head into the crown of your hair, breathing deeply to take in your scent, as if you're not currently pulling his hair out. he'll let you bite on his hard neck, or kick at the fat of thighs or even his crotch with no reaction other than tightening his already caged grip on your body.

a body much frailer compared to everybody else's. a mere gazelle to a lion ready to be chased anytime soon.

bruce placing a hand behind your back will only result in you digging deeply into his forearms, wide eyes and heaving breaths that reflects not only utter fear but a thinly-veiled threat of another session of attempting to uppercut him, like you're some wild prey ready to make a run if he dares push the boundaries you settled for. yet all he does is try his best to warmly smile at you without any weariness, not even any vigilance of your future actions, and most especially not fear.

how long are you going to fight them? why are even you doing this? to soften the blow? to make them wish they regret even taking you away from the first place? or do you wish for them to feel a semblance of fear you felt whenever their toned arms surprised you from when they appeared before a shadow? do they not know just how deeply terrified you are of them, that you're doing all this because you're afraid of their strength?

except, what you expected never came. you would've been fine with them punishing you, slowly losing their inhibitions, snarling at you every damn time you snap, becoming tired of your antics and threatening to throw you out, even mocking you for your weakness; anything...!

but not whatever this is.

not the stupidly gentle smiles, or the droopy eyes that look as if they've fallen in love even more at just how much droplets of blood you were able to procure with another set of scratches against jason's forearms. not the astounded whistles at another bruise you managed to punch into steph's shoulders after a momentary lapse of shock from another one of her back hugs— as of this were some all sick form of therapy. you know they're taking your daily fights seriously, you know it because they always take note of it by staring at each other every time you manage to injure them! but fuck, why are they just letting you do as you will?

since when have your nails been longer, sharper even?

why is jason just... staring at you, his gaze proud and mighty, not out of his attempts at mocking you but looking genuinely so gratified. there's rivulets of crimson dripping down his neck all the way to the clavicle until it reaches his upper pecs, multiple indents of scars already faded, now overlayed with fresher, even deeper ones; displayed like a museum artifact by his loose tee. his fingers, shaky and equally scarred, moved to run over the inflicted injuries, touching and pressing deep, as it just as quickly finds its way to his mouth, lapping at the blood, his eyes never leaving your equally shivering form; dread and disgust curling into your very being.

he takes deep breaths after lapping his fingers clean, his fists are curled together like yours; except your nails are stained with blood, jason's, a stench that curdles deep into your nostrils. and for a second you feel something scarier than fear, an immeasurable pit of doom that looms over your back. for a second, you thought this would be the last time you'll ever see the light again. just as quickly as you scratched him, you try to retort with an excuse.

"jason, i'm- i'm so sorry i didn't mean to—!"

"we get it now, angel...

this is your way of coping, right? it's all good, do as much damage as you could 's long as you get it all out of your system, 'kay?

and thanks, by the way. this one's even better than the one you gave me just earlier."

what does he mean? what's even better...? you just- you just gave it your all trying to engrave your sharp nails into already scarred skin; why is he talking to you as if he's congratulating you rather than scolding you?

no, no, no... he shouldn't be all like this... why is everybody staying silent all throughout? why do your ears wring, every sound mapped around the house turned into one singular sound? this shouldn't be happening, no! he should be mad, should be punching you, bruce should've broken you both up the moment he noticed your hands make a way for jason's neck— yet since when did anybody try to interrupt?! the only damn time, god... the only time they ever do is when you try to inflict injuries on yourself, but never on others... just why?

there's sudden clapping that distracts you from your thoughts, from dick's or duke, you don't know? one of them is saying something and you can't comprehend it other than one-liners and muffled, incomprehensible words.

"—'m jealous of you," that's duke's voice! what else is he saying? why is he envious? of what exactly? the fear doesn't settle down unlike all the other times, there's tears that began brimming on your eyes and you still stand in the middle of the living room, the chandelier's light basking you in its ethereal glow, yet you feel the opposite. you're no angel as what's jason called you, and the people surrounding you are more like demons than anything else; witnessing your fall from grace, taking you away from your home whilst having the audacity applauding your presence as if you've fucking graced them.

and then steph coos, your head snaps to the direction of her grating "awe's!". you're convinced she's looking at jason like he's been vindicated for some crime, eyes you never knew could hold so much anger and spite. you don't know why she does, you don't understand the hidden implications of her next words, you can only watch from a distance.

"that should've been me, y'know! that's so unfair of you!" her seething voice and hardened glare at the man subsided into your thoughts; who wishes to be hurt? who even wants to be the victim of your feisty glares and venomous insults? you know they don't like it when you stare at them with burning hatred— but why do they enjoy it when you physically scar them instead? when you punch at their noses and watch as the blood stains their clothes evidently?

and yet it only registered within your mind just now: how they never seem to patch up any of the marks you imprint on their body. it's only now that you realize that they always bare it right in front of everybody, some even wearing looser clothes that give others a peek of their skin in the more intimate places you've marked. there's bandages from when they go home after every patrol, there's casts that they wear after suffering through broken bones and dislocated limbs from the criminals they fight every night— but never with you, not even a gauze from when you've cut all too keenly into damian's cheeks, a deep gash that he's sported proudly throughout the following months with everyone else seething, even bruce seems envious of his own son.

"well, it's not my fault you didn't try hard enough, blondie. right, angel? guess they love me even more than you," his sultry words pierced through your mind, and for just a second, he was already at your side, hands weighing on your shoulder whilst his head makes its way to the crown of your head, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on your forehead. he releases an airy laugh at the complaints that come after. and for a second, your claws were ready to retaliate from mere instinct, at how he dares treat the entire situation like a bragging right; but unlike last time, you try to hold back, shoulders sagging as you try to blink out the tears running down your eyes; all right after discovering their... sick fetishes.

fetishes you didn't know run deeper than just that. you don't even know of the competition they hold every night right after they put you to sleep, counting each and every scar, every pull of the hair, every bloodied nose, bruised eyes, scratched skin, cuts inflicted from knives and other sharp objects laying around, your very own murder attempts at your abductors; all tallied and inputted into barbara's coded system that tracks and points each and every injury. you don't know just how much they cherish these marks you left in their body, like medals dangling off their parts that showcase their dedication, their patience never dwindling at achieving your trust— bruce once said it was an unhealthy habit of yours, but dick retaliates, saying it's the only way they could get closer to you.

it's the only time that you willingly touch them, even if it's with animosity, with passion and hope that someday you'd maim them just hard enough to escape.

"don't even think tonight's over yet, todd. you all simply haven't seen what they've done to me just yet," now it's damian who butts in, with emerald eyes gleaming with emotions you're still unable to detangle. yet now there's hints of rage, a face that says he's ready to compete with what jason has to offer now, hands caressing the cloth he wears that hides an injury enough to compete with the pain you've inflicted upon jason, an injury you're far too familiar with.

he's the youngest, and sometimes, you feel the most fear trying to discern why he's too possessive of your time, of your space and your presence, all whilst sporting a glare that never seems to lighten. but nothing ever changed the fact that he's the one who pushes all your buttons the most, he's the one with the cruelest words and sickening intentions, enough for you to treat him the foulest you ever could; with murder the only product in your mind every time he tries to even come closer to you.

and his words right now made you realize just how deeply you fucked up, and just how equally as fucked up your abductors truly are...

after all, you did just bite him earlier, in the space between his neck and shoulders from when he attempted to lick at your neck, making sure your teeth grates at his skin and nearly rips at flesh; to the point where the taste of blood that filled your mouth still lingers even until now.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: art by yuto sano. written in 30 minutes sheesh. you know what's scarier than your kidnappers retaliating against you whenever you try to attack them? them taking it all in stride instead. the delusional belief that it's your own expressive way of getting used to their presence— even going as far as turning it into some sort of competition on who gets to have the most scars by the end of the day. i think that's absolutely more insane than just punishing you, and please tell me i was at least able to portray the feeling of doom well with this. i also hope this isn't too ooc. guys, pls pls pls tell me what you think of this, did this cook or what? interaction's been low lately and i've been feeling demotivated to write so uhm... also, if anyone wants me to write the difference between the romantic or platonic implications of masochist/sub batfam, just tell me and i will!

this is inspired by @on-leatheredwings post about masochist tim drake. she's literally the reason why i read the entire red robin comic run and was obsessed with him for like a long period of time because of her banger portrayal of him. and it's also inspired by @sleepingdiaryzzz's recent post, her writing is really immaculate and well thought out unlike mine LMAO and she's a tad bit underrated so you guys definitely should check her out! this post is also dedicated to @neerathebrightstar, thank u for being my coolest supporter ever.

[sugusatosluut]

She needs to slow down.

Synopsis: You push yourself to the limit after being knocked out for weeks after the fight with conquest, Mark himself, is at his limit with your antics when you both get shocked with a surprise.

Warnings: smut, a cute surprise at the end..

A/N: Requests are open, this post is unedited and is going to recieve a part 2. 💕

You’d been knocked out for weeks, your body taking time to heal while you were asleep for so long. Mark sat by your bed everyday, they even brought a Cot into the room for him. His family would come, your friends would come, and sometimes your family would visit but they couldn’t bare to see you this way. Mark spoke to you every single day and every single night hoping that while you were asleep that you could hear his voice telling you to fight, to rest and get better but not to be gone too long. He misses you, your family misses you. He’s been brushing your hair for you, cleaning your face off with the towelettes provided by the staff at the hospital based for supers. You felt his soft lips touch your cheek and sometimes connect with your lips. His hands were caressing your own, then would make their way up to your face.

“Mark you can’t stay here, she’ll be pissed that you chose not to come help people who really need you.” Cecil sighed.

“Yeah.. Mark, Oliver’s even helping and he’s only been up a couple days. We could really use the help.” Eve said.

“I said no. If something happens and I’m not here— I don’t know what I’ll do.” He cinched his brows together, fighting the urge to cry.

“Mark I’d be happy to report her vitals to you. I prepared comms for you to see her vitals and for me to communicate them to you. The world needs Invincible, y/n is down for now but not for good. She’s strong.” Rudy protested.

Mark could have said no, but the world needed him now more than ever. After suiting up, Mark left to go search and rescue citizens with the rest of the heroes. Rudy would tell him what the spikes were in your vitals and what they meant. Suddenly he felt as if he could relax a little, knowing that he could still watch over you and know that you were safe as long as he was there. For a week, Mark continued to help with the search and rescue, he didn’t sleep, he hardly ate or drank, and at the end of the day he would always be right next to you.

One night while Mark’s hand was resting atop your own, your fingers started to move. You were waking up. Your eyes opened, looking over at Mark who was dead asleep on your lap. Your fingers touched his smooth fluffy hair as you explored your surroundings with your eyes. Cecil and Rudy walked in, the news on the TV was replaying video footage of you and Mark’s fight with conquest. You watched as it seemed you had the upper hand, knocking conquest down ten feet into the ground, then he shot back up quicker than you expected, headbutting you and punching you into the ground, throwing your bloodied body into the beach. Your jaw was reconstructed, your head was sore and your leg was broken. Now? You were mostly healed but the shock of watching it all really did you in.

“You fought hard. He was proud. We all were. He hasn’t left your side since we brought you in. He insisted his bed stayed next to yours after every surgery and when he got better he stayed here for weeks. He’s been helping with the search and rescue but he’s tired. This is the first time he’s slept in a week.” Cecil stated.

“Mark needs his rest.” You said looking up at them.

“Can I help with the search and rescue?” You asked.

“You just got up kid.” Cecil sighed.

“I feel fine. I heal fast. Mark needs to rest.” You argued.

Cecil couldn’t win an argument with you. You had always made compelling arguments but Cecil could use the extra hand now more than ever. So you left to help. You helped rescue people all night and when you finally made it back to your room, Mark was worried yet relieved to see you.

“Y/n please don’t leave without seeing me first, you scared me.” He sighed with relief as he squeezed you tightly. He kissed your face as he held both your hands in his own. His hands caressed your waist as you both sat down.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“I’m a little tired but I’ll keep doing search and rescue tomorrow.” You yawned.

“Get your rest while you can. Tomorrow is an early day.” Cecil said by the doorway.

“Y/n you might want to take it easy.” Mark said.

“I agree with Mark. You need to take it easy.” Robot said.

You sighed rolling your eyes.

You and Mark spent weeks along with the other supers doing search and rescue ops, fighting off villains of the week and helping to rebuild the city. You always felt winded which was unusual for you. But you were always doing way more than you should be and that made Mark a little irritated with you. Cecil opted to put you on special training nights, you would over exert yourself constantly and train the newer supers to push their strength past their limits. One night you went a little too far while reaching the new supers and got injured. The newbies felt bad. Cecil took you to the hospital and let you be. Donald called Mark and Mark was there in an instant. He looked mad.

Not only was Mark mad, he was fuming. He stormed into your hospital room, closing the door behind him. He took a sharp breath in.

“Why do you keep pushing yourself? You just recovered from something life changing.” Mark sighed.

“I need to be stronger—to get better Mark what’s your problem?” You argued

“What’s my problem?! I almost lost you and here you are again making dumb decisions and being careless! Stop doing it. I cant lose you again.” He yelled at you.

You looked at him sympathetically and grabbed his hand. Mark caressed your hand and started pecking your lips with his own, the small kisses eventually turning into wet ones. Mark locked the door, pushing you against it as he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he held you up against the door. Mark’s lips traveled all over, one hand on your back and the other holding up your hips against his own. You took your shirt off and he moved his arm up to unclasp your bra. He watched as your tits bounced and couldn’t help but catch the closest nipple between his lips and suck. Your moans were a symphony to him. He moved you both to the bed, taking off every article of clothing you had on. He reached to take his suit off but you stopped him.

“Keep it on, let me just slide the bottoms down.” You smirked at him.

He groaned. How could he be so lucky?

You were already so wet, you decided to hover over his tip with your entrance, sliding it and hearing the wet sounds and Mark’s moans as he gasped at the feeling.

“Haven’t done this in quite some time.” He smirked.

He grabbed your ass and let you stay in the spot you were in. You sank down slowly on his length as you felt him take up all the space you had in you. Mark kissed your nose as you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. Then, without warning, Mark slammed into you at a quick and steady pace. He was drilling into you, your sharp gasps and light pornographic moans filled the air. You were enjoying every bit of this. Mark was being rough but gentle at the same time. He grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you close.

“You’ve just been wanting me to punish you like this the whole time hmm? Is this what you want?” He groaned.

“Yes—yes, yes!” You moaned.

“Fuck— I’m close y/n.” He moaned.

You couldn’t let out anymore noise. Marks thrusts slowed down as he was getting closer, you’d already came and he was right there, he just needed something to send him over the edge and you knew just how to do it. You put your mouth over Mark’s own, tongue kissing him, letting him shove his tongue down your throat as one of his hands were now squishing your face and the other was wrapped around your waist.

“Stand up.” He commanded you. So you stood up, jumping up and wrapping your legs back around his waist. You let him press you against the door as he lined himself back up with your entrance, fucking you while he was standing up. He pounded into you while keeping a hand over your mouth as you moaned. His thrusts were getting sloppier.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum, I’m so deep inside you already I don’t think I can pull out now baby.” He groaned.

He came, he filled you up so intense that you both had to lie down for a moment to recover. Your legs were numb and he was finally speechless as he usually was after sex.

“Slow down. You’re gonna get hurt.” He sighed as he lied down to wrap his arms around you.

“I know.. I’m sorry.” You poked your bottom lip out and he kissed you.

You both got dressed and unlocked the door, Cecil barging in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, you both need to come with me.” Cecil said. He looked very angry yet concerned. He walked you both to a room with a monitor, seeing that robot was also watching the screen.

“Cecil what is all this?” Mark asked.

“A child.” Robot said.

“Who’s child?” You asked.

“Yours to be precise. You’re eight weeks pregnant y/n, with a half viltrimite baby. I’d say congratulations are in order but seeing as you both are just as shocked as Robot and myself, we’ll leave you guys to figure it out.” Cecil said as he and robot left the room.

You both stared at the monitor as a small fetus appeared on screen.

“oh—wow..” you said. Your eyes burnt into the picture on the monitor. It was engraved in your brain.

“Y/n”

“ can get rid of it—“

“I want a family with you..”

You both spoke at the same time.

This was awkward.

“You don’t want to keep it?” He asked.

“Yes— I do I just thought ..” you sighed placing a hand on your head.

“You thought I wouldn’t want to have this baby with you y/n? We’ve been together for years, you should have a ring but we’re having a baby. I mean I still have time to get you a ring I just— I want this with you.” He pleaded.

“Mark.. I do too. I want to have this baby with you.” Your eyes were welling with tears.

Mark pulled you in for a hug. It was longer than your usualy hugs and he was much softer with the strength at which he hugged you. Then he dropped to his knees, pulling his mask off to look at you and kiss your stomach.

“He’s pretty little now, give him some time and he’ll take up all that space.” You smiled.

“He? She’s definitely going to be a girl.” Mark jokingly argued with you.

“We have to tell my mom..” he realized.

“Let’s do it in a cute way. First let’s go deal with Cecil.” You said patting his back.

[invincibledc]

⋆˙⟡INVINCIBLE/MARK GRAYSON X PANTY ANARCHY!READER⋆˙⟡

summary: new addition to the teen team is a sex addict and a bitch. But oh, but they aren’t much of a bitch to of course mark grayson

genre: whatever this shit is cause idgaf I love panty AND THE NEW SEASON IS COMINGGGGG!!

info: slight(?) yandere mark, idk… I like munch!mark so much. POV switch accidentally at the end but I’m too tired to fix it so whatever. Also sorry if it’s ass, like I said i was tired and too tired to try and explain the dynamics. this is gender neutral for the ftm/male reader who loved panty and stocking. That’s why there’s a male reader and female reader tags, cause this is a character!reader so reader just has the personality and abilities of panty anarchy.

word count: 2,015

"Motherfucker needs to motherfucking chillax before she has a motherfucking stroke!" was the first sentence that came out your mouth seeing monstergirl fuck up Rex when invincible aka Mark Grayson punched her into her senses. You wore a classic bougie red outfit with shades on your head, and golden bracelets around your wrists as you leaned against the broken glass.

You were sure the person made a huge impression on the others when you got accepted onto this hero team. You and Rex weren't on a good start when you out-sassed him.

“You’re such a whore.” Rex says to you, narrowing his eyes while leaning his face towards you. You covered your nose, leaning back before sticking your tongue out.

“Says the manwhore who HAD a hot ass girlfriend before fucking multiple clones of ONE girl!” you stepped back fully as Mark was ready to get in between you and Rex, already seeing the tension getting thicker.

“I mean, monster girl was right when she said you have a small dick, Captain Peter wacker.” as you said this, you indicated him having a small dick by using your pointer finger and thumb, almost squeezing each other—but leaving space for in-between them to show how “small” he is.

“Oh, you bitch!”

“Rex, if you're gonna act like a baby, you might as well crawl back up your giant vagina where you belong.”

Before Rex could try and pounce on you, Mark got in between you and him, Rex was trying to get over the half viltrumite and human male. You just smirked and gave him double middle fingers and stuck out your tongue. “Suck it!”

“Y/n, stop!” Mark says, oddly—you obeyed, rolling your eyes and walking off.

“Whatever..”

✞

Every time you tried to have fun, Mark the fun police was always there, watching your every move. It was getting annoying so bad!

You were at the club, flirting with some guy, moving your body close to the buff man. Dragging a finger against his chest before suddenly Mark is there, pulling you from the club as you couldn't see a dark expression on his face.

“Hey! Dickhead! Are you following me or something?!” you scowled at the dark-haired male who seemed to almost try and intimidate you with his height.

“If you call watching out for you stalking, then yes!” he yells at you, but then he groans in annoyance. He doesn't even know why he cares for you, why he is getting so protective of you. What's the point of even trying to be like some overprotective boyfriend when you’re so independent?

You looked weirded out as he seemed to have an internal conflict going on. “Jeez.. Listen, man, if you want to sleep with me you could—” Mark interrupts you, grabbing your shoulders with a firm grip, not too firm to try and break anything. But still, you looked more confused at him.

“I don't want to sleep with you. I want to know the real you, you. You can't just be some sex-addicted person all your life! This... This can't be you!” he says, trying to get his words through you before you narrow your eyes.

“Ouu who are you? I don't need some asshole tryna tell me how the fuck I should live my life! This is my life, if you don't like it, then suck it up buttercup!” you pushed him back. It happened so quickly that you you both arguing, Mark trying to talk you out of whatever you were doing, not caring if he seemed crazy. Crazy for you whilst you trying to ignore the aching feeling.

“Can you shut the fuck up!” you yelled, fully losing your cool as Mark stopped, freezing as he stared at you.

Glossy eyes stared into shocked ones, you've never lost your cool before like this when you fell from heaven.

Mark couldn't help, but notice how astonishing you looked. The moon hitting your face right. You realized that you blew up, you exploded. You immediately turned from the male, wiping your eyes as you sighed.

“Listen, I'm doing this 'cause it is me. You can't just change me, Mark. This is already me.”

After that, you practically sprouted your angels wings and flew off quickly. Leaving Mark to sadly look into the sky, hitting himself mentally as he should have just not acted so impulsive. But he couldn't help it… he just couldn't.

✞

After the whole “altercation”, you and Mark have been kinda in a rocky relationship. But when you hold a grudge, you hold one. It's been so long since you noticed Mark. Not knowing that he now has fully changed after his father left. But Mark always noticed you. Always noticed how you seemed more closed off between you and him.

Mark would subtly be a lap dog for you, bringing you stuff like; red nail polish, and cool snacks he found across the world you mentioned you wanted to try months ago. He was being such a sucker, and you lived for this.

Finally, you had enough.

Knocking on his door, Debbie opened the door to see a flashy young adult who seemed to reek of a careless person.

“Is Mark here?” you ask, as much of a crazy bastard you are, you can't just burst into his place. So here you are now, in his comic geek abode.

“I wanna say, I'm sorry,” you said simply, knitted brows as Mark looked surprised. “I acted like a major bitch when you were trying to look after me. But listen here,” your voice lowered as your eyes narrowed.

“Next time I find out you are stalking me,” you balled up your fist, making a clean popping sound. “I'm ripping your balls off and making you swallow them.” and with that, you gave him a wink and left his place. Leaving him shocked as he clearly cannot believe that you apologized to him, threatened him, or found out where he lived.

But either way, the relationship was restored between you two. Strangely enough.

✞

Things have been smooth, and you both started to hang out more. Mark still acts oddly possessive if other guys are too close to you. He hates hearing how you fucked some guy during the morning or night. He had to ignore the feeling to show you true love within lust, but you were just too stubborn and uncaring to care. Although, you both are quite the duo! You and Eve are best pals due to some circumstances, she’s still a badass like you said before.

✞

Rolling your eyes, you took off your underwear from your angel clothing, not caring how the others were now focused on you. Shocked at how you are practically stripping.

“Angel! What are you doing?!” Mark yells, speeding over you as your underwear turns into a gun. Placing a hand on the half-alien boy’s chest—you pushed him back surprisingly harshly.

“I'm doin' my shit you dipstick. This isn't some ordinary monster, it's a goddamn ghost demon,” with a crazed smirk you rushed toward the shitty-looking monster. Rex gripped his head, even at first stayed in place before flying after you with Mark who still was oddly protective of you.

“Y/n! You’re crazy!” “Bitch, I'm always crazy!” you said loudly, jumping onto Eve’s and Mark's back, having your feet onto each of their backs before jumping into the air with a flip. Aiming the gun flawlessly at the ghost’s head you started to chant.

"O pitiful shadow lost in the darkness, O evil spirit born of those drifting between Heaven and Earth. May the thunderous power from the garments of these holy delicate maidens strike down upon you with great vengeance and furious anger, shattering your loathsome impurity and returning you from whence you came! REPENT, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

You pulled your finger onto the trigger as your halo glowed bright, the blue bullet phases through the ghost demon, showing a blasted huge hole before it was blown up into pieces.

Smirking, not caring how you were falling, you were suddenly caught by Mark who was gonna get heart problems because of this fallen angel.

Smirking with a smug look, you tapped his cheek. “Now you see what I have to deal with on my own time.” Mark gave you a stare that couldn't hold all the emotions he felt as of now, feeling you tap his cheek as you jumped out his arms.

You’re crazy… but oddly… attractive.

✞

"Well after we eat, let’s go hit the club and have ourselves a little fuckfest! Fuck that guy! Fuck this guy! Fuck those guys! We'll find everything that has a dick and FUCK IT! I'M TOTALLY FUCKING STOKED!" You said, kicking your feet that were covered with your red high-top sneakers. You and Mark needed to celebrate after a successful mission, it made you gleeful. Mark was slightly embarrassed with how loud you were—people started to stare.

Mark pulled you out of the establishment, whispering severely into your ear. “Calm down! Y-you can't just yell something like that to the whole world!” he says, face flushed as you push his face from your ear.

“Jeez, alright alright.” you started to pick at your ear with a noncaring expression. “I’ll be more 'civil',” you said with an air quote gesture with your one free hand. You pulled your finger out of your ear, looking at the finger and wiping it on Mark’s shirt.

“I'm bored. Let's go fuck some shit to fuck up.” You walked ahead of the male, having your arms behind your head as mark strutted close behind. Having a feeling he is practically your lap dog, which wasn’t wrong—but still it was clearly established without words.

✞

When the invincible war happened, y/n didn't think this was gonna be easy, hell! Multiple versions of the hot comic geek, jeez, if they weren't so evil. Y/n would've slept with all of them to achieve the goal of 1,000 guys!

But of course, they just had to face one of them.

The [blank] one.

The variant threw y/n across multiple buildings, and y/n got up momentary despite the burning feeling in their legs and body. “You can’t keep running from me angel face. You’ll die anyways, just like how I killed you!” He yelled when destroying a pillar y/n hide behind.

You barrel rolled from the punch, scoffing as you shot at him, he dodged quickly from the bullets. “You’re being such a little bitch.” the variant then says, zooming onto, gripping their throat as the angel then starts to punch his face.

Wincing a bit at the feeling of punching this variant, glaring at how this one seemed to smile like a smug bastard.

"You're right, I'm just a little bitch and I'm proud of it. But guess what, douchebag? That's not the point. News flash, I don't need special fucking powers to beat the shit out of you. You know why? Because I'm a bitch who doesn't give a fuck. You and your shit face can preach about death and me and other weird words that supposedly mean shit, but that doesn't change the fact that if any of you fuckers get in my way, I'm gonna kick some twisted-ass ass. You hear me dick? I'm a hot bitch angel named Y/N. And no matter what anyone says, I DO WHAT I FUCKING WANT!" Y/n before blasting a hole into Mark’s chest. Ending one of the variant's life, they felt tired as their whole body was littered with bruises, blood, and scratches. Clucthcing their gun, they fell to the ground, ignoring how their halo was slightly fading before Mainstream Mark immediately flew over.

Mark felt his heart drop, their small wings fluttering slowly, their halo looking titled. Mark flew to where the angel could get some help. He never thought he could have fallen in love with a foul-mouthed angel.

And here he is now, it's over, the battle of his life is over as he stared at the enchanting fallen angel beside him. He wrapped his arms around your nude body, figuring quickly you liked to sleep bare. He had no issues of course, but damn.

You were insane for being who you are.

[cameronsbabydoll]

hiiii, for sugar coated chains could u write something about how their oldest son once he’s older, like high school or college age, gets in a fight with rafe because he’s tired of seeing how he treats his mom and says something along the lines of “you don’t deserve her, she deserves so much better than you”

it’s late.

later than it should be for voices to still be raised in this house — his house — and especially not those voices.

your heart sinks the second you step into the hallway and hear them — rafe’s voice low, sharp like a blade being honed, and your son’s, rough with anger in a way he never used to sound. not your sweet boy. not the same little boy who used to trail after rafe on chubby toddler legs, desperate for his attention.

but he’s not a boy anymore.

you think you can talk to me like that, huh? under my roof?” rafe’s growl cuts through the tense quiet like it always does — but for once, it doesn’t land the way it used to.

for once, your son doesn’t back down.

“yeah, i do.”

silence.

and then—he laughs. bitter, disbelieving. his laugh, rafe’s laugh, inherited like every sharp-featured thing about him — only this time, it doesn’t sound a thing like his father.

“you don’t deserve her.” he spits it like venom, like it’s been sitting on his tongue for years. “mom deserves so much better than you.”

it punches the air from your lungs.

not because it’s untrue.

but because it’s the first time someone’s said it out loud in this house.

“she’s—god, she’s been nothing but good to you. sweet to you. stupidly loyal.” his voice cracks, breaks in that way that only happens when anger curls into hurt. “and all you do is treat her like a possession. like something you can control. she deserves—”

“enough.” rafe’s voice is a warning, low and dark.

but your son doesn’t flinch.

“you’re just pissed ‘cause you know i’m right.”

and it’s quiet after that.

so quiet you almost forget how to breathe.

until rafe’s footsteps stalk away — leaving your son standing there, fists clenched, chest heaving — and for the first time in a long time, he looks over and sees you.

soft-eyed. heartbreaking.

“mom…”

he sounds younger all of a sudden. like your little boy again. like he didn’t just stand there, taller than you now, shoulders tense with fury and hurt, defending you like no one’s ever dared to do before.

you don’t even think about it. your arms are around him before either of you can say anything else — pulling him in, holding him so tight it nearly knocks the breath from him.

and maybe that’s what does it.

maybe it’s the way your hands shake against his back, or how your voice wobbles when you whisper, “oh, baby…” — that cracks whatever wall he was holding himself up with.

because suddenly his arms are winding around you too, strong like his father’s but gentler — so gentle — like he’s scared to break you.

“shouldn’t have to be like that,” he mumbles into your shoulder, raw and low. “you shouldn’t have to… put up with him like that.”

and god — if your heart doesn’t just break right there in the hallway.

because he means it. so fiercely. so protectively.

your sweet, angry, stubborn son — standing there like your greatest defender.

you pull back just enough to cup his face in both hands, tearful but smiling anyway — motherly to your core, the only way you know how to love.

“hey,” you whisper, brushing his hair back like you used to when he was small. “you let me worry about me, alright? all you have to do is be good. be kind. be better.”

his jaw tightens, the fight still lingering in his eyes.

“i learned that from you.”

and oh — if that doesn’t just undo you completely.

because for everything rafe ever tried to control, ever tried to mold and own and shape in this house — he couldn’t take that from you.

your heart. your softness.

passed down exactly how it was meant to be.

unbreakable.

[ettawrites]

Could you make genin Naruto, Sasuke, Gaara, Rock Lee and Neji x reader who is their crush and they end up having to fight reader in the chunin exam?

Yessss, yes I will 😊

Fighting Them During The Chunin Exam

A/N: half of this was written with writers blocks the other half was written when I was high, so don’t judge the quality okay 😊

Naruto

- One by one you both watched as everyone was drawn. When it was just down to four of you, Naruto prayed he would get Kiba

- You both gave a side eye when you were the last opponents

- Oh fucking shit

- He was actually a bit (really) mad, protesting that he could not fight you because you were a friend but when the only response was fight or surrender he bit the inside of his cheek

- “Friend”… yuh uh, he means totally smitten to the point he feels like a dog

- But he couldn’t surrender, not when he was this close to getting his chunin but he didn’t know where you guys would stand after it

- When you reassured him this is just how it was supposed to be and said you’d be honoured to fight him, he only frowned and scratched his head.

There he stood, across from you on this dirty cement floor and he was mesmerized on how you could just smile.

“This gotta be a joke, can you just redraw?” He asked the , displeased evident.

“There’s nobody to draw from, you both are the last opponents,” he irked, finding Naruto’s stupidly uncharming.

“Naruto it’s fine, let’s just do this, I’m hungry,” You slumpt, anxious to get this over with.

- he went easy at the start, only throwing kunais and he played defence

- When he realized you weren’t going easy, he was caught off guard as you punched him right in the face

- He stumbled, looking at you with somehow even more admiration

- Then he got serious and the fight really started

- You lost, but some part of you kind of anticipated it

- You were sprawled out on the floor, head pounding from the attack and you were honestly just so tired from the forest

- When you surrendered he felt relieved, he didn’t know how much longer he could take fighting you

- He ran over to you, he wasn’t happy with the win

- He apologized over and over, helping you up and taking you to the infirmary

- He was so glad you guys were still friends, you meant so much to him

- Totally just friends

- He takes you out for ramen after

- He still is on edge for quite some time, he makes excuses why he can’t train with you and he definitely won’t rough house like you guys use too

——

Sasuke

- king of looking like he doesn’t give a shit

- He does

- He’s literally panicking internally and in private probably bites his nails from anxiety

- He thinks he’s anxious to fight you, that has to be it? Out of everyone you are most worthy to him potential wise

- He’s lying to himself, he doesn’t wanna believe that he’s scared to fight you because you mean a lot to him

- He’ll avoid you for the month of training and when you come to confront him about it he’s eerily upset

“We’re not friends, I am getting my chunen license even if it means hurting you,” he says, stopped inside his door frame as he watches you fold your arms over your chest.

“So that’s it, friendship over because of a silly competition?” You respond, you knew sasuke was aloof and stubborn, but really?

“We never were friends,” he replied, as casual as one could and he hated the way your eyes got glossy. He watched you leave, regretting it but he won’t take it back.

- you were nervous, standing in the podium as the crowd was watching you

- Sasuke wasn’t here yet, which you’d hope he wouldn’t show up at all

- You were a bit annoyed as he spawned in with kakashi, trying to be ‘cool’

- He was surprised when you actually put up a fight, a good one too

- But also kind of proud

- He did not go easy on you, at all and was definitely being yelled at by Naruto on the stands

- he won, by default as you had passed out and could not continue to fight

- He wanted to check on you, instead lurking outside your door and kinda of just shuffling around

- He’ll ask the nurses if you’re okay, but he won’t dare go in already knowing he’s fucked up your guys friendship

——

Gaara

- low key you were shitting your pants cause WHATT???

- You saw what that boy did to Rock Lee, and now you have to fight him?

- He on the other hand doesn’t care, but the more it gets closer to the fight he starts feeling uneasy

- He’s… what they refer to as a monster? So why is he kind of concerned for this nobody wannabe?

- He had sat beside you during the first test, intrigued by you

- Your the first person that has ever smiled at him so.. genuinely

- And now he has to fight you? A big part of him was set on absolutely destroying you to stop this uneasiness in his chest

- I mean, he didn’t even know if he had a gentle bone in his body, all he knows how to do is ruin things

“You…” his cold voice came, you were walking home in the dusk from the ramen shop after hanging out with Naruto.

“Uh.. yeah? Hey?” You responded, confused and a bit anxious as you stuffed your hands in your pockets. He came closer, a blank look on his face.

“Forfeit,”

“Huh?”

“Forfeit the fight, I will kill you,” He explained, blinking so casually as he watched your complexed reaction.

- he, in his own scary way, was trying to warn you that he could not control himself

- He was kind of happy when you got his underlying message.. you really were different

- You forfeited privately, to your sensei who completely understood

- Gaara was grateful when the next night Baki had told him his opponent had changed

——

Rock Lee

- When you were paired with him for the semi finals he had frowned

- He apologized to Neji and his sensei

- Both were very confused

- He had that cute little ‘hmpf’ look on his face with an even cuter pout as he walked down the steps

- When he came face to face to you you saw this look in his eyes

- Both of you didn’t say anything when the ref asked if anyone wanted to forfeit before he called fight

You braced, drawing your Kunai when the fight began. Rock Lee raised his hand, looking like his traditional taijustu pose.

“I cannot fight you (y/n)! Please forgive me I forfeit,” he yelled, clasping his hands together and falling to his knees before you in a bow.

“…wha…?” You deadpanned, uneased by how loud he had just shouted that. He looked up, seriousness written all over him.

- You guys didn’t talk until after everyone had battled, finding him hiding from you behind the tree outside

- He slumped as you yelled at him

- He let you rant before he started his own ramble, explaining how he couldn’t fight you

- He would never lay a hand on you, it was against his ninja way

- His eyes started to water and his top lip twitched, clearly upset

- You rolled your eyes and went to go get ice cream with him

——

Neji

- you guys were paired to fight for the finals

- He was stubborn and if you’re a girl.. low key sexist about it

- He thinks he’s being a gentlemen but absolutely obliterating you with ‘facts’

- King of backhanded compliments

- But what he doesn’t know is you started to train with a really powerful sensei who was travelling through the village and offered to help you

- Throughout the whole month training time he was focusing on his fighting, but you were on the back of his mind

- He knew he wanted to win, but he also knew he didn’t want to hurt you either nor ruin your relationship

- So he spent a lot of late nights trying to figure out ways he could knock you out as quick and painless as possible

- This was all internally and completely private to him, he never expressed any weakness on the outside

- He was pretty confident in himself

- When the fight began and he realized.. you were actually catching him off guard he was perplexed

“I don’t-… how?” He coughed up blood, knees weak as he swayed to try and stay up right. You frowned, he hated that.

“I’m not weak Neji, don’t underestimate your opponent. You don’t know me,” Those words were said in order to hurt him, he had ruined your patience with his opinion of you.

“I.. thought I did,” he pondered, eyes lost.

- you gave the final blow to him and he was carried away to infirmary

- When he awoke he stared up at the ceiling for a long time after, feeling his wounds and thinking he deserved the pain for how much he took your abilities unseriously

- He vowed to never make you feel inferior to him and started to rekindle your friendship in hopes he didn’t ruin his chance

——

[verstappenverse]

Lost in the Spin - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max refuses to let rumors rewrite your love story.

3.1k words / Part 1 / Masterlist

Max was on his jet within the hour. He hadn’t even hesitated, instructing his pilot to prepare for takeoff while he threw whatever he needed into his bag and put on the first hoodie he could find. The flight felt endless, his knee bouncing the entire time, fingers tapping against his leg as he tried not to let the worst thoughts consume him. Every second was another second you could change your mind, another moment for doubt to creep in, another moment he might be losing you, another chance slipping away to make things right.

Would you actually believe him? Would this be enough?

He didn’t know, but he had to try.

He barely touched his phone, fearing he’d see more headlines, more assumptions, more comments dissecting your relationship as if it was entertainment for the world to judge. He couldn’t let this be the end. Not over something that wasn’t real. His fingers tapped anxiously against his thigh, finally he unlocked his phone just to see your last message again.

Okay.

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t reassurance. But it was something.

As soon as the plane landed he was moving, his cap pulled low, hood up to avoid attention. The car ride to your apartment was silent save for the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. As he climbed the stairs to your floor, the reality of the situation hit him all over again. He had almost lost you. He still might.

Max hated not knowing. He hated not having control over this.

But most of all, he hated that he had hurt you.

Standing outside your door, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before knocking. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he waited, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. A long pause. Then footsteps.

Then you.

There you were, standing in front of him, you looked tired, eyes slightly puffy like you’d spent hours crying, arms wrapped around yourself as though you were holding yourself together. Seeing you like this, seeing the hurt he had caused felt like a punch to the gut. It twisted something deep inside of him. He had never wanted to be the reason for your tears.

You heard the knock, your heart jumping into your throat. You had been staring at your phone for hours rereading Max’s messages, scrolling through the photos again and again, trying to find some kind of clarity. But now he was here.

You swallowed, wiping your damp cheeks before slowly making your way to the door. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked it and pulled it open.

Max stood there looking exhausted and disheveled. He was in a hoodie and sweatpants, dark circles under his eyes. The moment his gaze met yours, the raw emotion in them almost made your knees buckle.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice hoarse, eyes searching yours for any sign of hope.

You hesitated before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Max walked inside, the space feeling different than usual. Colder. Like a part of it had already started to pull away from him. The door clicked shut behind you, the silence stretching heavy between you both. He turned to face you, his hands flexing at his sides like he was trying to stop himself from reaching out to you.

You sat down on the couch and he followed, careful not to sit too close. He knew you needed space, but all he wanted to do was reach for you, hold you.

You were the first to break the silence. "Max…I…I don’t even know where to start.”

“Baby…” His voice cracked, and that was all it took for your resolve to splinter. He turned to you, his face filled with quiet desperation. “I know I already said it a million times, but I swear nothing happened. I wouldn’t do that to you. Not ever.”

“I need you to tell me the truth Max,” you said. “No sugarcoating. Just… the truth.”

His throat tightened. "I swear to you, I didn’t cheat. I didn’t even know that girl. I was drinking, celebrating with the team and people were taking photos everywhere. I swear I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much I missed you. And then suddenly everyone was pulling me into pictures, and she—whoever she was I didn’t realise how close she was. I don’t even remember half of the night, but I know I would never do something like that to you. You have to believe me."

Your fingers twisted in your lap. “But… how can you be so sure?” you asked, voice small. “If you don’t even remember half the night, how do you know you didn’t do something?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Because I know myself,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Because even drunk out of my mind, there’s no part of me that would ever want anyone else. Because you are the first and only thing on my mind always.” He swallowed hard. “Being drunk doesn’t erase that. It doesn’t change who I am. And who I am is a man who loves you too much to ever risk losing you.”

Your fingers twisted in your lap. "Max it wasn’t just one picture. It was several."

"I know." His voice cracked slightly. "And I hate that it looks so bad, that it hurt you. It was just strangers at a bar, a bunch of misleading angles. If I could go back I’d do it all differently, I’d go straight to my room I’d facetime you instead of letting myself get caught up in the night." He exhaled shakily. "But I can’t change that. All I can do is promise you that nothing happened and that I love you more than anything."

Your throat tightened. He looked so raw, so heartbroken, and it made your chest ache. “Max…”

He inhaled sharply and then he pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it without hesitation and handing it to you.

“This is everything from that night,” he said, voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “My texts, my photos, everything. I want you to see it all. I have nothing to hide.”

You stared at the device in your hands, your chest tightening. The openness, the willingness to be completely vulnerable, to let you see it all, this wasn’t the move of a man with something to cover up.

Slowly you scrolled. The messages were nothing but casual conversations with his team and a few with you. The photos he had taken himself were just of the guys, drinks, blurry selfies. And then there were the images online, the ones that had torn a hole in your chest, the original ones that had been sent to him not cropped and edited but the full group shots.

Your hands shook as you looked at them again, this time in the context of what you knew now. The girl was just there, a fan, maybe an acquaintance. The angles, the closeness, it all looked damning. But there was no direct proof of anything intimate.

He moved closer tentatively reaching for your hands. His touch was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, but when you didn’t pull away he held them tightly in his own. “I love you. More than anything. Please don’t let this be what breaks us.” His thumbs brushed over the back of your hands.

You let out a shaky breath. “I just…Max, I was so scared.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it, hated how exposed you felt, but you couldn’t stop now. “I saw those pictures, and all I could think was, what if I was wrong about you? What if I was just another idiot who trusted someone too much…again?” You let out a broken laugh, shaking your head. “I swore I’d never let myself go through that again. I swore I’d never be that girl who ignored the warning signs.”

Max's hands tightened around yours, his touch warm and certain. His eyes were shining, his expression open, desperate for you to believe him. “You were never wrong about me,” he said, his voice fierce, unwavering. “Never.”

He leaned in, his grip firm as if he could hold you together by touch alone. “I love you,” he said, the words so sure, so steady, it made your heart ache. “I love you more than I can even explain. You’re it for me.”

“I just… I don’t know how to stop thinking about it,” you admitted.

Max exhaled slowly, his thumbs tracing soft, reassuring circles against your skin. “Then don’t,” he said. “Don’t force yourself to push it away. Talk to me. Ask me anything, yell at me if you have to. Just don’t pull away from me, please.” His voice broke slightly. “I will never hurt you like that. I swear to you.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling slightly around his. “I don’t want us to be one of those couples Max. The ones who have to go through each other’s phones or can’t go on a night out without the other. I just want to trust you, to know that we’re solid without needing proof all the time.”

Max nodded. “And you can. I don’t want that kind of relationship either. I want us to be secure, to trust each other without second-guessing. If you ever need reassurance I’ll give it to you, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to doubt me.” He lifted your hands, pressing them against his chest, right over his heart. “You have me. Always.”

You searched his face looking for any sign of dishonesty, any flicker of guilt or hesitation that would suggest he wasn’t telling the full truth. But there was nothing. Just Max. The man who had always been yours, who had never given you a reason to doubt him before this.

"I don’t care what they say. I only care about what you believe. Do you really think I would do that to you?" He asked quietly.

You hesitated. And in that hesitation, Max felt like he might break.

Then, softly, you whispered, "No."

His breath left him in a rush.

"I don’t think you cheated," you admitted, looking down at your joined hands. "I know you Max. I know your heart. And deep down I don’t believe you’d do something like that. But… I’m still hurt. Seeing those pictures, seeing the way people talked about us like they knew everything, like they knew you better than I do…it just made me feel so small. Like it didn’t matter how things would look, because it wouldn’t matter if I got hurt in the process."

Max shook his head immediately. "You are everything to me. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. I didn’t think, it was so stupid and I should’ve been more aware. But I promise you, I would never risk what we have."

A deep, exhausted sigh left your lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Max’s face crumpled with relief, his arms wrapping around you before he could stop himself. “You won’t. Never.”

You looked up at him then, and for the first time in days, you really looked at him. He looked like he had been through hell, and you hated that it was because of this.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Max didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one, but this time they weren’t from pain they were from relief, from the deep, aching love you had for him that refused to be erased by a few blurry images and cruel words from strangers.

You let him pull you into his arms, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him. His embrace was warm, steady, everything you had missed these past few days. His lips pressed against the top of your head, lingering there as if he could physically will away any remaining pain.

Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt as a twinge of guilt twisted inside you. “I’m sorry too,” you mumbled against him, voice barely above a whisper. “For overreacting. For being dramatic. I just—I got so in my own head, and I let it spiral, and—”

“Hey.” Max cut you off gently, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, his touch steady. “You don’t have to apologise for feeling hurt. You’re allowed to be upset. I never want you to bottle things up just because you’re scared of how I’ll react.”

You nodded, the weight of his reassurance settling over you like a blanket. “I just don’t want to be that kind of person. I don’t want to jump to conclusions or let my insecurities ruin us.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “We talk. We work through it. That’s what matters.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I never want you to feel like you can’t come to me. No matter what, I’d rather you tell me everything you’re feeling even if it hurts than keep it to yourself.”

You let out a shaky breath, "Okay."

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you murmured, pressing your face deeper into the warmth of him.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was slow and deliberate, like he was grounding himself in you, reminding himself of what mattered.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, because despite everything, Max was your home.

The paddock was buzzing the moment you and Max arrived. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved forward, and the murmur of reporters and journalists grew into a full-blown storm as soon as they caught sight of the two of you walking in together. But you held your head high, your hand clasped tightly in Max’s, refusing to let the noise shake you.

You could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their assumptions, their speculations. Just days ago headlines had painted you as the betrayed girlfriend, the one left humiliated in the wake of scandal. But Max hadn’t let the narrative stay that way. He hadn’t let you drown in the noise.

He walked beside you now, strong and unwavering, his grip on your hand firm. He had promised you that he would handle this, that he wouldn’t let you fight alone. And Max Verstappen never broke a promise.

A swarm of reporters gathered the second you both reached the entrance.

“Max! What do you have to say about the scandal?”

“Do you have anything to say about the rumors?”

Instinctively you tightened your grip on Max’s hand. He didn’t hesitate to squeeze back, a silent reassurance as you both pushed forward.

“Keep walking,” he murmured, voice low but firm. “Don’t give them what they want.”

You nodded, ignoring the tightness in your throat. But the reporters weren’t giving up that easily.

“Is your relationship still intact after everything that’s come out?”

His jaw tightened, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he fixed his eyes on the reporter who had spoken first. The cold, unimpressed stare that had shaken rivals on the racetrack was now turned on the media.

“Max do you have any comments about the pictures that surfaced last week?”

“No,” he said bluntly, his voice carrying over the crowd with effortless authority. “Because there’s nothing to comment on.”

The air shifted. Some reporters hesitated, others pressed forward, but Max’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t here to play into their games. He wasn’t here to give them the reaction they wanted.

Another journalist tried again. “But Max, surely you understand why people are talking. The pictures suggest—”

“Suggest what?” Max cut in sharply, his jaw tightening. “That I can’t even exist in the same space as another woman without ridiculous rumors starting? That a couple of out-of-context images are enough to turn my relationship into a circus? No, I don’t understand.” His voice was firm, authoritative, leaving no room for argument. “What I do understand is that I love my girlfriend and she doesn’t deserve to be dragged through this just because people are desperate for a scandal.”

You squeezed his hand, warmth flooding your chest at his unwavering defense. He wasn’t just standing up for you, he was shutting them down completely.

The reporters didn’t relent. “But the pictures Max—”

“I was out with my team, celebrating,” he said, voice steady but laced with irritation. “Nothing happened. And frankly, I’m done explaining myself to people who don’t even know me.”

The crowd went silent for a moment, stunned by his bluntness. But Max wasn’t done. He turned his gaze directly to the cameras.

“I love her,” he said simply, but with so much weight behind the words that it felt as though your heart had stopped. “And nothing is going to change that.”

The murmurs picked up again, but this time there was a shift in the air. Max had said what needed to be said. There was no room for further questioning.

In the chaos, notifications buzzed endlessly on people’s phones all over again, tweets flying out in real-time as the internet erupted over his words.

@F1Fanatic: Max Verstappen just SHUT DOWN the media with the most protective boyfriend energy I’ve ever seen. “I love her and nothing is going to change that”??? I AM UNWELL.

@RacingInsider: Max Verstappen publicly defending his girlfriend, refusing to play into the media’s nonsense, and making it clear where he stands? Respect.

@SportsBuzz: Verstappen to the press: “I love her and nothing is going to change that.” The man said what he said. Case closed.

@GossipGrid: Max Verstappen and his girlfriend arrived at the paddock hand-in-hand, completely unfazed by the drama. Looks like the couple is stronger than ever.

The headlines followed within minutes, flooding every sports and gossip site imaginable.

Max Verstappen Breaks Silence: “I Love Her and Nothing is Going to Change That”

Verstappen Defends Girlfriend Amidst Media Scrutiny “I’m Done Explaining Myself”

Stronger Than Ever? Verstappen and [Y/N] Arrive Together at the Paddock

Max Verstappen Crushes Cheating Rumours with Fiery Response to Reporters

But none of it mattered. Not the reporters still murmuring, not the cameras still flashing, not the internet analysing every second of the moment.

As you both moved past the crowd, the noise faded into the background. You glanced up at Max, his grip on your hand relaxing slightly as you walked further into the paddock.

“Thank you,” you whispered, just for him.

He looked down at you, eyes softening in contrast to the sharpness he had shown the media just moments ago. “I meant every word.”

And with that, you both moved forward together, leaving the noise behind.