#i still dunno how to make gifs man... but it's getting better. (But the gif makes Drakken look more purple ish)

[flowery-laser-blasts]

Realistic hovercraft ride.

They forgot to buy milk and now need to get back to the store before closing time...

Thanks @theatticdemon and @miss-doodle-jester for suggesting Shego's look

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I loved your last hobie fic btw it was really good!!

Imagine that in hobies universe you died but when he travels to miles universe he sees you alive 😭 and then the reader introduces themselves to him the same way they did in his universe

Keep feeding us with these ATSV fics 😈😈

Have a great day!!!

Thank you for enjoying my Hobie Brown stuff anon cuz he’s been invading my mind recently. I hope to god this is okay for ya. 🦦

Hobie remembered first meeting you as though it were yesterday, you were within an alleyway vandalising the walls with your spray paint, he happened to be passing by when one of your masterpieces caught his eye; it was of him…well him as Spider-Man clocking a cartoonish Osborne -appropriately adorned with devil horns and a tail- in the head with his eyes crossed out in red spray paint as though he were dead.

It got a good chuckle out of him that was for sure and from that alone he knew he had to know you more on a personal level. ‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ He asked aloud, making you jolt, you were pretty sure you had chosen a spot where you weren’t going to get caught by the authorities or those that’d grass you up for expressing how you truly felt about Osborne and all those just like him. You shrugged, looking up at your finished product before looking back over at Hobie, ‘dunno yet,’ you told him truthfully, ‘my working titles are either anarchy incarnate or death to capitalism.’

Hobie hummed in approval, but he thought you could do better, ‘how about anarchy is the death of capitalism?’ He suggested and he couldn’t never forget the light in your eyes upon hearing his working title, that in the midst of your excitement you had grabbed him by the arm, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it, you’re a genius man!’ You cried before realising what you did and immediately removed your hand from his arm, ‘sorry about that.’ Hobie dismissed your apology by slinging an arm over your shoulder. ‘Nah, don’t give me that shit, you shouldn’t have to apologise for being yourself for that’s what they want you to do.’

‘I don’t think I ever got your name.’ You said. ‘Hobie. Hobie brown and may I get to know the name of the amazing artist behind this.’ Hobie gestured to the spray painting. ‘Y/n l/n.’ You replied. ‘Well y/n, I think we’re going to get along quite well.’ And you did.

So when your untimely death happened, Hobie felt as though he were Achilles having lost his Patroclus. He cradled your body into his arms even long after you had said your final words, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’ and much longer after it had already gone cold. You had told him that you were heading out to go spray paint with some people you’ve met and the worst soon came when despite knowing that you didn’t have to, you still went out of your way to act as a distraction so that the rest may escape; which resulted in the way that it did.He knew he should’ve gone with you that day because then maybe you would still be alive and taking the piss out of him for worrying about you but he didn’t, so you weren’t.

Ever since then Hobie had made it his goal to keep fighting for not only his chase but yours as well in your memory. He made you a memorial in the exact same place where you first met, always paying it a visit whenever he felt as though he needed you with him, which has lead him to start talking to your spray pairings as though they were actually you. There was without a shadow of a doubt that you were quite possibly one of the greatest artists to have ever lived, alongside with being an avid inspiration to many to the youths who felt as though they had no way of expressing themselves when feeling slighted by the society they were born in. Hell you even inspired him! So much so that there were a multitude of songs he would perform that depicted a individual with stardust in their eyes, a rebellious fire in their heart and a insatiably need to insight the themes of anarchy within anything they touched.

After your death Hobie kept a good portion of your things; such as your spray cans that would never get used, your clothes that still clung onto the very last essence of you much like he did and even kept the picture you took together after helping you finish a project you had been wanting to pursue for a long while; and who would’ve thought that it would be him, not as Spider-Man, just good old Hobie Brown with the message, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’

So when he caught himself walking down a alleyway much like he did long ago but this time in a completely new place, he felt as though he was being hit with a wave of de ja vu when his ears picked up on the familiar hissing sound of a spray can. It was like he was back there again and if his memory serves him right, he knew what was to come next the moment he, Gwen and Miles made it into a clearing where they were greeted with the sight of someone’s back as they were deeply engrossed with their own handy work. ‘You’re going to love them Hobie, they’re like super cool and awesome.’ Gwen told him but her words went in one ear and out the next as he stared up at the spray painting of Miles as Spider-Man mid swing; it was beautiful without a doubt but they style in which it was drawn was all too familiar.

‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ Hobie had said without realising it until you jolted before turning to look directly at him, regaining your composure, ‘dunno yet.’ You shrugged and your voice sounded like an echo to the past for Hobie who so desperately wanted to pinch himself in that moment. ‘my working titles are either a bright new era or rising above all expectations.’ Hobie didn’t say anything for he knew he was going to say something that would only scare you away, just because you were another version of his y/n didn’t mean you shared the same memories; to you, he was just another spider-man from another reality, he wasn’t your Hobie despite how he wish he was but he knew he couldn’t put that on you.

He also couldn’t blame you for being alive while his version of you was dead. It wouldn’t be fair on you for being blamed for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with and it wouldn’t be fair on him either, as despite how many times he made himself believe that he has accepted your death, his heart would remind him that he truly hadn’t. You were such a pivotal part of his life that he couldn’t seem to let go of. ‘Hmm, both titles sound cool but I think we can do better.’ Miles pipped up, breaking Hobie out of his headspace that was running rampant with all the best memories you shared together. ‘How about…the bright new era of rising above all expectations?’ Hobie interjected.

You made a face at the suggestion before a wide smile spread across your face as you lost yourself in your excitement and grabbed ahold of his arm like you did when your first met, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it! You’re a genius dude, thank you.’ But before you could remove your hand from his arm, Hobie grasped your hand and held it firmly. ‘I don’t believe I told you my name, it’s Hobie by the way.’ Your excused his actions as an exchange of formal greeting and grasped onto his hand with the same about of force. ‘Nice to meet you Hobie, I’m y/n.’

‘I know’ is what Hobie desperately wanted to say but kept it all contained under a strained smile.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Baby Face - A John Shelby/Reader One Short Story.

Words - 2,742

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You and your girlfriends, you have names for each of them. Names the don’t know about. Tommy is razor cheeks, because of course. Those cheekbones. Arthur is angry fella, again, self-explanatory, and John is... 

“Look, girls,” you chime, sipping upon your gin while discreetly nodding in the direction of the Garrison’s entrance. “Baby face just walked in.”  

“He’s so adorable,” your friend Marjie sighs, turning to you with a look of pure adoration upon her face. “I don’t know what I’d like to do more, mother him or get on him!” 

“Oh,” you snort, shaking your head, “it’s the latter for me. I would ride that man all the way to town and back!”  

Your girls all cackle, huddling close, Joan the next to speak. “Would you, though? I mean, he’s a bit too sweet looking for me! Dunno if he’d have it in him, to be as much man as I’d need!” 

You turn to view him again, catching his eye. He gives you an appreciative sweep with his eyes, winking. Turning back to your friends, you beam widely. “He’s got it in him. I know we call him baby face, but there’s a demon lurking beneath. I know there is.” 

“A shilling says you’re wrong.” Reaching into her purse, Winnie pulls out the very coin itself, slapping it down on the table. Joan and Marjie follow suit. “Are you prepared to put your money where your mouth is?” 

Rifling in your bag, you remove your dainty little purse, taking out the coin and placing it with theirs. “I’ll put my money there. My mouth has other plans.” 

“Oooh, you dirty cat!” Winnie shrieks, her brother, the man you needed to accompany you to the pub in order to be served in the first place turning, tutting and shaking his head.  

“All alley cats, the lot of ya!” 

“Oh, pipe down, our Wilf,” she orders lightly, giving him a nudge where he’s turned in his seat at the next table over with his lad friends. “We’re only having a bit of fun!” 

A bit of fun. You can guess with almost certainty you’d receive exactly that from John Shelby. Turning again, you see he’s still at the bar, drinking with a couple of the lesser famed Blinders, once again catching your eye. He lifts his chin, holding your gaze fast while sipping his whiskey, placing his glass down and making a motion with his fingers for you to go over. Smiling, you remain in your seat. 

He can work a little harder than that.  

The excited squeaks of your friends – who of course witnessed it – tinkle through the air, Joan holding out a cigarette, lighting it for you, her eyes suddenly widening.  

“Baby face on his way over! This is not a bloody drill!” 

Your heart somersaults, but you remain calm, feeling him arrive at your side. “Evening, ladies. Having a good time, are ya?” 

Looking up at him, you’re near intoxicated out of your mind by his scent, his eyes so much more beautiful close up. God, he’s simply divine. “I could be having a better one.” 

“Oh, ar?” he chimes, raising an eyebrow as he idly chews upon his toothpick. “Anything I can help with?”  

Your girlfriends snort with giggles, John giving them a fleeting look of curiosity before his eyes fall back upon you. He doesn’t wait for you to reply. “How about I get another gin in that glass for ya, and we go from there?” 

You stand, licking your lips, watching his eyes flit down, his pupils inking a little. You have to stop yourself from diving on him right there and then. “Lead the way.” He offers his arm, and you take it to a little “ooooh!” chorus from your friends, turning to give them a scolding look. After being escorted from the bar and furnished with another drink, one drink leads to two, two to three, the evening flying by as you get to know the third Shelby brother a little better.  

You find him to be sweet and charming beneath the veil of hardened gangster, and, well, cheeky as hell.  

“I gotta hand it to ya, bab. Those are some cracking legs you’ve got,” he compliments with a wink, looking down and back up again, his cocky smile broadening.  

You lean in close to him, gliding a fingernail over his defined jaw. “Why thank you.” 

His intense gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, turning to press a little kiss to your fingertip. “Yeah, your legs look amazing, but they’d look even better wrapped around me.”  

The signals you’ve been giving to one another have all led to this point, your smile broadening in an instant. “I have lodgings above the shoe shop on Bennett Street. Want to come and see for yourself how good they’ll look around you?” 

You’ve never seen a man see off a fresh whiskey quite so fast before. “Lead the way, love.” You know the Shelby abode is closer than your little room above Mr. Smedley’s Shoes and Leather goods, but you’d prefer to be in your own space with a man you truly don’t know well at all. Outside, you fall into step at his side, taking his arm again, thinking how gentlemanly he is, right up until he suddenly pushes you into an alleyway.  

You feel a little anxious at first, but the way he looks at you. Oh, look. There’s the demon you knew was lurking beneath the surface, spitting out his toothpick before his mouth lands upon yours. His kisses are whiskey tinged and lust dripping, all sweet heat and need as he pushes himself against you. It’s imposing, but not intimidating, his want for you melding with yours as the sparks begin to crackle further into illumination.  

“Come on, mister. You’re not shagging me in an alleyway.” Grabbing his hand, you lead him back out to the street again, John releasing it to wrap an arm around your shoulders instead, your own extending around his waist. The balmy summer evening still warms the pale, inky violet of night, the air pleasant, the birds still twittering as they sit on the viaducts above, turning three corners before you end up on Bennett Street.  

John Shelby has never been so pleased to see a shoe shop in all of his life, and the spring in his step confirms it. If not, the way he begins to lay hot kisses upon your neck as you jiggle the key in the side door lock tells you plenty. The entrance to the two lodging rooms above the is separate from the shop itself, a narrow staircase taking you up a flight, turning right into an equally narrow passageway.  

“Bathroom is at the end there.” you point, unlocking the door to the left and opening it to reveal your modest dwelling.  

“It’s your bed I wanna know the way to more right now,” he breathes, shrugging his jacket off, his hands impatiently moving to you, smoothing over your body, mouth still furiously heated at your neck. God, the raw passion in him. It’s almost enough to make your knees buckle, feeling your dress come loose in his hands as you step out of your shoes, turning to kiss him.  

He backs you against the door, hands pawing at you urgently, kisses full-bodied and blistering with heat. Your hands begin the desperate devouring of clothes, having his shirt unfastened in haste to feel his skin against yours, your body smoothed and squeezed in a touch that leaves you breathless. Your fingers rain trails of exploration over his chest, and the noise he makes as his tongue swirls with yours is pure sin, his touch slipping to your undergarments.  

He fights against the lace, a hand slipping within, pulling a gasp from you when his fingers brush against the petals of your sex. You whine at the tease, and he smiles against your lips, pulling from the kiss to look at you through a heavy-lidded gaze, watching the need dance in your eyes. He relents his tease, his fingertips gently stroking the slick of your anticipation, your head thudding back against the door.  

The wood feels cool and steadying against your body, skin heating up rapidly, a summer tempest beginning to swell as the stroking of your bundle has you purring softly, John’s lips returning to yours. His body melds into your curves, his cock hard at your hip, his touch rousing the little bolts that spark up your spine. He draws all manner of sweet noises from you, and he swallows back every one of them in each kiss, his free arm locking around your waist.  

Lifting you, he carries your barely dressed form to the bed, throwing you down, removing the rest of his clothes as you impatiently pull yourself out of your undies, your stockings shimmied down, receiving his pale skinned, freckle flecked, gorgeous body between your legs. His kisses trail your eager flesh, shifting, hands wandering along the path his lips map, settling at your apex and delving within your folds with a keen, firm drag.  

The wet of each lick has little pin pricks skittering over your nerves, the warmth of it catching quickly, your edges caught in the heat of his flame. The roll of his tongue over your clit is slow and full of heat, hands kneading in soft clench upon your thighs, the outline of him through the dimness of your room gilded in the last of the summer light still reasonably visible.  

He is a feast for your eyes, his wide back and well-bounded bum so peachy, it invites you to sink your teeth into it, if you weren’t so lost in the delirium of his mouth pressed so keenly against your sex. The heat he evokes burns you to your marrow, the scald of your arousal growing as every flicker of his tongue sends flames skittering through you. The addition of his fingers pushing into your cunt has a sweltering flush of pleasure twining through you, your hands reaching to rest either side of his head. 

Neatly shorn stubble prickles at your fingertips, your back arching as he works you with hunger, your dew sparkling upon his fingers. He twists them in a way that has your mouth dropping open, a sound you scarcely believe came from you filling the air, John’s lips wrapping your clit in a suck that is a gentle crush of pillowy heat to begin with, the pull intensifying, little glimmers rushing through you until... 

“Oh!” It tears through you, sudden and overbearing, leaving you trembling, your release still rolling through you as his tongue slows, your fluttering walls pulsing around his fingers, withdrawing them as he sits up, inspecting his sodden hand. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” he rumbles, shaking the trails of slick from them, chuckling to himself. “Proper enjoyed that, didn’t ya?” He brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean before grasping your thighs and yanking you closer to where he kneels, a predatory look glinting the blue of his eyes. “Think you’re ready to get fucked now, ain’t ya?” 

“You bloody better,” you mewl, hands trawling his arms as he lowers to you, placing kisses at your sternum. You can feel the head of his cock pressing for entrance, the tip breeching you, but all he gives is a mere inch before pulling back. His mouth closes over your nipple in a warm suck, pushing again, opening you around him, slipping back once more. Oh... you certainly were right. He’s a demon.  

“John, please,” you complain, and he has the gall to give you his most innocent, unassuming look. Damn that baby face.  

“Please what, bab?” 

You chuckle, but it’s pained, hissing a breath when his teeth close upon your nipple. “Please fuck me.”  

“I will, love,” he murmurs, mouth moving to your neck, tongue pressing against where your pulse flickers madly. “Eventually.” His teeth lock in another bite, cock breeching you again, a couple of inches parting your needy, soaking walls this time, twitching before abandoning you again. “Gonna make you desperate for it before I do, though.” 

“And to think, my friend thought you were so adorable,” you quip, body juddering beneath him, John laughing as his tongue swipes over the crescent of each breast, hands smoothing down your back.  

“Your friend don’t fucking know shit.” Indeed, she doesn’t. Your bet? Won already... and he’s barely been inside you.  

His merciless tease continues, and every second of it is agonising to your overstimulated body, your cunt streaming needily, yearning for him to simply fill you. When he finally does, you have to hope that Mr. Taggart, the other lodger there above the shoe shop is out for the night from the cadence of your wail, spread wide around the girth of the gangster who offers kisses steeped in sugared embers, fingers trawling through your hair.  

No matter how dangerous he is, you desire nothing more than to slap him when he retreats once more, chuckling at your pain. “Alright, fine,” he begins, turning you onto your side, moving to lie behind you. “I suppose I’d better play fair, save spitting me teeth.”  

He hauls your leg up so it rests in the cradle of his elbow, hand reaching to grasp his cock. He purposefully rubs himself along your slit, the gloss of your cunt smearing over his thick, veiny shaft, your whimpers reaching crescendo. You need him so badly, you are not above begging, but finally, he plunges into you fully, sating you beautifully. And oh, he feels sublime.  

His other hand reaches beneath your neck, turning your head to meet your lips in kisses that scald you, like a summer heatwave cutting through an arctic chill, moaning against your tongue as he arrows you so deeply, you see stars. The rhythm of his fuck is contained to begin with, each daggering into your soft, dripping warmth allowing you to feel every ridge of his cock, falling then into a tempo that has you gasping against his lips. 

The snap of his hips has your tits heaving, kissing back every little cry, telling you how good you feel around him, how beautiful you look while you’re getting fucked, moaning into your mouth as his hand slides down to begin stroking your clit in time with every deep thrust. You’re adrift from yourself, cast out onto the vast sea that begins to whirl, the storm that is John leaving you feeling unmoored entirely as he splits you deep and fucks you hard.  

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t be shy,” he encourages you, mouth moving to suck a purple welt upon your neck with a deep groan full of smoke and salt. “Let me hear you scream for me.”  

You feel the shiver in your muscles spread as he rails you relentlessly, his sweat slicked chest rubbing against your back as your voice breaks on the scream he fucks out of you, your waves flooding his shore as you come hard for him, every fibre of your being alight, twitching and beaming. He slows, giving you time to recover, sliding from you and turning you over, pulling your hips up before re-entering your molten core from behind.  

Your pleasure is still warming your bones as he begins to fuck you in all out, brutal carnal fury, groaning deep as he splits you around him, hands clasped at your hips, eyes fixed upon the sight of his cock rapidly assailing your soaking little hole. He pants hard, each twitch of his cock tightened upon by the clutch of your walls as he rapidly has you ascending again, coming with him as he paints your insides white, growling cusses as his release blinds him completely.  

You don’t even care about the three shillings you just won; all the prize you need is being turned and pulled into a set of strong arms, sharing kisses with your baby-faced demon as every drop of pleasure he so expertly bestowed upon you ebbs away.  

“Fancy letting me do that to you again sometime?” he asks, and you smirk immediately, turning him onto his back and seating yourself astride him. 

“You aren’t leaving here until you do it to me at least another three times,” you demand, leaning to kiss the centre of his chest, the vibrations from his chuckle tickling your lips.  

“Oh ar, bab. You can count on that.”  

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

HIS GIRL - PART 1

Summary: You were always Topper’s girl—until Rafe decided you were no longer his.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Rafe/Reader, Topper/Reader, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Fingering, Oral (w receiving) Drinking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.  

Author's Note: Hi my loves. I'm alive!! Trying to survive. The year has been a tough one but wanted to tell you all I love you. Wasn't feeling motivated and then suddenly inspiration struck and I've been writing this dark/rafe fic on and off for months but then when it came time to post it was too long to do as a one shot so I'll release it slowly over the next couple of days as short parts. Part 2 will hopefully be up tomorrow. Love you guys and I hope everyone is well ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

“You wouldn't believe how happy she makes me,” Topper says, leaning back against the porch railing overlooking Tannyhill. His voice is thick with that syrupy sweetness that makes Rafe want to shove him clean off it.

Rafe leans against the opposite post, staring into the darkness. The summer air is suffocating, clinging to him, weighing him down, but not half as much as Topper’s words. He can’t stand the way Topper talks about you. His girl. Always his girl. Like he owns you, like he can hold your happiness in the palm of his hand and keep it there.

“She’s different, you know?” Topper keeps going, like he’s trying to sell you to him, as if Rafe hasn’t already memorized every detail, every curve of your lips, the way your eyes light up when you laugh or the soft timbre of your voice.

“She’s perfect, always so positive.. Like she literally sees the brighter side of life and the good in everyone. Sometimes... sometimes I feel like I don't deserve her, ya know? Like she can do so much better and yet somehow- she's picked me... I dunno it makes me want to do better. She makes me wanna be a better guy for her...”

Rafe's mouth curls into something that could be a smile but feels more like a scowl. He scratches his forehead.

“A better guy, huh? Jesus—Top, do you even hear yourself? You haven't even fucked her yet, and you're already actin' like a sap.”

It’s easier to mock, easier to keep up the front than to let anyone see how it really feels. How every time you laugh at one of Topper’s stupid jokes, it feels like a punch to Rafe's gut, a reminder that you’re still not his.

Topper doesn’t notice. He never does. Just keeps grinning like an idiot, like he’s won the fucking lottery.

“Can you just shut-up and be happy for me, man? Just this once? Look, it doesn't matter anyway. Cause it's time. Me and her are going to take our relationship to the next level.”

The words hit Rafe harder than they should, his fingers flexing, gripping the edge of the porch railing until his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t say anything at first, just feels his chest tighten, feels the familiar burn of jealousy flare up like a live wire. Because all he can think about is you, Topper’s hands on you, Topper fucking you, and it makes him want to break something, anything.

He forces himself to speak, keeping his voice steady, casual, like he’s just shooting the shit.

“The next level, huh? With little Miss Sunshine?” His smile is a thin, cruel line. “Thought you said you two were taking it slow, isn't she the type to wait for marriage or some shit."

Topper laughs, an easy sound that grates against Rafe’s nerves. “She’s not a virgin Rafe, she’s been with other guys before.  We’re just you know, trying to get to know each other first.  That's what I love about her. She wasn't going to just sleep with me after a couple of dates.  I had to prove myself to her and now it feels… it feels right. It’s the next logical step and I know she feels the same….” He says it like it’s so obvious, like he’s stating a fact, and Rafe’s skin prickles with a heat that has nothing to do with the summer night.

And there it is. The image that really makes Rafe's blood run cold: you, too sweet and naive, believing in something as stupid as love, and Topper, ready to ruin it with his clumsy hands and superficial feelings. This is the same guy who was pining after Rafe’s sister claiming to be in love with her only to have suddenly found you “the one” and had fallen head over heels in the span of a a few weeks.

No. That can't happen. Not like that. Not with you. Not when Rafe is the one who really cares about you. Had feelings for you longer than he’d dared to admit. Way longer before Topper swooped in and put a claim to you.

Rafe swallows hard as a new plan slowly takes shape in the dark recesses of his mind. If Topper wants to take things to the next level, fine. But it won't be with you. Not if Rafe has anything to say about it. He’ll get to you first. He’ll be the one you remember, the one who shows you something real, something raw. Because you deserve better than Topper. Or maybe, you deserve someone who isn't afraid to give you everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly. Someone like him.

Rafe smirks, letting his eyes slide over to Topper, keeping his tone light, almost teasing. “Yeah, well, good luck with that. You're gonna need it...”

Because he’s already decided. This isn’t over. Far from it. He’s going to make sure you know exactly what you’re missing before you ever let Topper Thornton fuck you. He’ll find a way. He always does.

The music pulses through the house like a living thing, the bass vibrating in Rafe’s bones as he moves through the crowd. Bodies sway, drunk on cheap beer and the promise of a good time. Laughter spills into the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and weed, but Rafe has only one thing on his mind tonight: you.

He spots you almost immediately. You’re standing in the kitchen, a red Solo cup in your hand, laughing at something Topper is saying. Topper’s arm is draped around your waist, and Rafe feels a familiar flicker of irritation—a heat that curls in his chest like a slow-burning fire.

He watches the way you tilt your head back, your eyes bright with amusement, looking at the blond idiot like he'd hung the moon and it takes everything in Rafe not to walk over and tear Topper’s hands off you.

Instead, he waits, watching, calculating.

Topper leans in close, murmuring something in your ear, and you giggle, playfully swatting at his arms, your fingers drawing circles on Toppers' wrist. Rafe’s jaw tightens. He needs an opening, a chance to get you alone, and then he sees it—a flash of movement as Topper's phone buzzes in his pocket. Topper pulls it out, glances at the screen, and Rafe catches the brief look of annoyance that flits across his face. Perfect.

Topper leans down to you, his voice barely audible over the music. “Hey, babe, I’ve got to take this. It’s my dad. I’ll be back in a few, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, and you nod, giving him that same sweet, innocent smile that makes Rafe’s stomach twist in knots.

As Topper slips away into the crowd, Rafe moves. He slides up next to you, a casual, easy grin on his lips, as if he just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“Hey,” he says, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Topper leave you all alone?”

You look up, surprised but not unhappy to see him. That’s good—he can work with that. He's worked with less.

“Yeah, he had to take a phone call,” you said with a small smile. That smile. It's cute. You're cute. So fucking cute that Rafe’s mind spirals into the gutter. He wonders what you’d look like if he wiped that smile right off your face, watch your face contort with ecstasy—what sounds you’d make if he were to shove his cock down your throat. He 's sure you'd look just as cute all teary eyed and drooling.

Rafe leans against the counter, close enough that his arm brushes yours, but he doesn’t miss the way you pull back slightly. It’s subtle, not rude, but clearly setting boundaries. That’s fine. He'll enjoy tearing those boundaries down.

“He always gets those calls at the worst times, doesn’t he?” he says, keeping his tone light, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. Planting the seed. Making you think.

“I guess.” You laugh, a little uncertain, and Rafe knows he’s got you hooked, just a little. “But to be honest, I don’t mind. His dad’s helping him prep for an interview he has next week..”

“Oh—is that who he said was on the phone? His dad?” He lets the words hang in the air, just enough to make you wonder, to make you question.

You frown, just a flicker, but he sees it. “Well, yeah... who else would it be?”

Rafe shrugs, as if he hadn’t meant to say anything at all. “Oh, nothing. It’s just... Topper talks a lot. To a lot of people. Friends... Other girls... It's probably harmless, but, you know... people talk...” He flashes you a quick smile, a little sheepish, like he’s just looking out for you. "People talk..."

Your brow furrows, confusion and a hint of worry crossing your face. “What other girls?”

He waves a hand dismissively, playing it off. “It’s probably nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. Just... you know how it is around here. People love to gossip; it’s mostly hearsay anyway.” But he knows he’s hit a nerve. He sees the doubt flickering in your eyes, the way you bite your lower lip as if you're turning over his words in your mind.

Before you can ask anything else, he changes the subject, shifting the focus.

“Hey, forget about it. Let me get you a drink. You look like you could use something stronger.” He reaches for a bottle on the counter, pouring two shots of something clear and potent, handing one to you with a grin. “Topper will just have to catch up when he gets back.”

You hesitate, just for a moment, but then you take the glass, smiling back at him. “Okay, okay” you say, clinking your glass against his.

The first shot goes down easy, the warmth spreading through your chest, and Rafe watches you closely, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Another?” he asks, already reaching for the bottle, not giving you time to think or say no. You nod, a little more eagerly this time, and he pours again, his movements smooth, practiced.

One drink becomes two, then three. Rafe keeps them coming, always ready with another pour, keeping your glass filled, keeping the conversation light and funny, distracting you from the fact that he'd only had one to your three. Distracting you from the way your head begins to feel pleasantly fuzzy. He’s careful, calculating, making sure you don’t notice how he’s watching you, gauging just how tipsy you’re getting.

By the time the fourth shot is gone, you’re giggling, swaying just slightly where you stand. A fucking lightweight if he’d ever seen one. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes a little glassy, and Rafe knows he’s got you right where he wants you. He moves closer, his shoulder pressing lightly against yours, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone.

“Hey, let’s get out of here for a bit. It’s too crowded, and you look like you could use some fresh air. What do you think?” He says it so smoothly, so surely, that you don’t realize the kitchen is already empty.

You blink, a little slow, unsure, but then you nod, laughing softly. “Yeah… maybe… for a few minutes...” Your words slur just a bit, but you don’t notice, don’t seem to care. You’re too wrapped up in the haze and the banter you're sharing.

He reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, a touch that lingers, and this time, you don’t pull away. “Come on,” he urges, his voice low and coaxing. “Just for a bit. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You nod again, and he leads you outside, into the cool night air, away from the party. He knows he's in dangerous territory, anyone can see you leaving with him but he doesn’t care. He’s too far gone. Drunk on the idea of having you all to himself, away from the lights, away from Topper, where it’s just you and him and the night.

And as he guides you down the porch steps, he knows he’s one step closer to what he wants. One step closer to having you, in whatever way he can. One step closer to making sure you’d never look at Topper the same way again.

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

PART 2 / STORY MASTERLIST

Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like / reblog / comment as I would love to know what you think. Part 2 will be up tomorrow but in the meantime lots of love ❤️

[forever-rogue]

I don’t know if your still taking request about Miguel but im going to shoot my shot 🕷️🕸️

What about a request where after arguing with the reader (hater to lovers) and he falls into a small crack of the universe and gets a glimpses of married life with her and them having kids. Then he realizes he doesn’t hate her🥲

Totally okay if you don’t want to write it 😊😊

AN | Miguel really is just a big old softie at heart! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Yeah?” you tried to glare at Miguel with as much venom as possible. Judging from the unimpressed look on his face you realized your words probably didn’t land how you wanted them to, “well…well you’re big and stupid! And ugly.”

You heard a snicker from behind you and quickly turned to glare at Peter. He straightened up and cleared his throat immediately. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk as you sighed internally, “that’s the best you could do?”

“I, I…umm…”

“No matter how convincing your words or points are, I’m not changing my mind,” he pushed past you, not even bothering to look you in the face. The rest of the spiders all parted for him, already whispering among themselves, “you’re off any missions from here on out.”

“I hate you!” you shouted at his retreating back, trying to swallow down the tears that threatened to well up and pour down your cheeks.

“I know you do,” of course he heard. Curse the super hearing, “I hate you too.”

You scoffed and turned on your heel, storming off to go anywhere but here. You hated Miguel, you hated his stupid face and his stupid rules and everything about. 

Well, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of anyway. But you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t true. You didn’t truly hate him. You didn’t think you were capable of doing that. 

“Do none of you have anything better to do?!” you shouted loudly, waving your hand around as you stormed out to go…anywhere but there. You just knew that Peter and Miles were following after you, accompanied by some small coos from Mayday. 

Only once you were back out in the fresh air, which currently did little to help your nerves, did you turn around to face your friends. You held up with your hands and shrugged at them, “well? Say what’s on your mind then.”

“That was…a lot,” Miles scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked at Peter, “what happened?”

“Is this about what happened in-”

“Yes,” you hung your head with a heavy groan, “this is about Shanghai. Somehow it is all my fault and that means I cannot ever do anything again.”

“But it was…everyone’s fault,” the boys exchanged a look as Mayday made a small sound of confusion, “not just yours.”

“I’m well aware of that…I thought everyone was aware of that, but for some reason Miguel is not,” you scoffed at the sheer thought of him, “he has this like personal vendetta against me and I have no clue why. But I am so tired of it. Maybe he’s right though, maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“You’re not seriously considering leaving?” Miles’ entire face dropped as you shrugged, “I’m sure he’ll be over it soon.”

“Even so…maybe it’s time I don’t do this anymore,” you waved your hand around, “maybe it’s time I’m not some sort of fool with a weird radioactive spider bit doing vigilante shit.”

“But…but-” Peter had no clue how to follow that up - he’s been through those exact thoughts several times before, “you can’t just leave.”

“I dunno Peter,” you whispered, “it’s a lot to think about. But for now I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

“Promise you won’t leave leave without saying goodbye?” you’d miss these two most of all if you did leave. But you had your own decisions to make.

“Swear on it,” that much at least was a promise. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Miguel stopped dead in his tracks as he looked across the park. Part of him was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no - this was a reality that was simply different from his own. Anything could happen…and apparently anything did happen. 

Because there you were, crouched down and talking to a small boy that was staring back excitedly with a big smile on face. You reached out and ruffled his dark hair before he ran off again, running towards the jungle gym. You straightened back up and shook your head fondly. But then - then - the real surprise came…in the form of himself. 

Alternate universe Miguel walked up to you and threw an arm around your shoulders as you shook on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. No fucking way. His breath hitched in his throat as he continued to watch the two of you, attempting to process what in the actual hell was happening. That’s when he noticed the bands on both of your fingers and the fact that the small boy you had been talking to looked suspiciously like a combination of both of you.

“No way,” the actual Miguel ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, “there’s no way.”

But…this was a different reality and he knew, maybe better than anybody, that anything was possible. He hung his head and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; he was here for a reason, for a job, and he couldn’t let himself get distracted, and potentially ruin any canon events. He could feel the pull of curiosity getting the better of him; this was definitely not a reality that was any of his bingo cards. 

Really though, it should have been. Just because you believed he was an asshole, and let’s be honest he was, didn’t mean that he didn’t care about you. He probably cared too much  if he was being honest, which had led to him being overprotective of you and then…led to the current situation at hand. But you had fallen into the belief that he hated you and then you started to hate him and…yeah. Things were a mess essentially, but he could at least rest easier knowing that you were safe. 

He was going to turn around and complete what he was supposed to, really he was, but Miguel also knew that if you fell out of his view he’d probably never mind you again. And he had to know the current state of affairs between the two of you was. 

With a heavy huff, he camouflaged himself and hopped into a tree closer to the two of you. It wasn’t spying or anything…it was just gathering some intel. Sure, yeah, that’s what he was going to go with.

“Did you get everything for dinner, amor?” you raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously (he’d been on the receiving end of that look so many times), “and don’t even bother lying to me.”

“Of course I did,” Miguel knew that he was lying. He knew himself well enough.

“Miguel,” you huffed and he groaned lightly, “you didn’t get anything yet, did you?”

“I haven’t gotten anything,” he admitted and Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at himself, “I’m sorry, amor! I got so busy and I had Diego and…yeah.”

“Yeah?” your hands settled on your waist as you sighed heavily, but with nothing short of fondness. You reached over and patted his cheek gently, “how about I take Diego and then you can go to the store? The big dinner is tomorrow and we need to get started on everything tonight. Think you can handle that, big guy?”

Actual Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at this version; he was whipped for you. The real, or whatever you wanted to call him, wasn’t quite ready to fully admit that just yet. But deep down inside he knew it was true. 

“Okay,” he leaned over and kissed you softly, “whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Smart man,” you beamed at him and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder.

Miguel was watching with wide, curious eyes as the whole thing unwrapped. Eventually the two of you left, the small boy - who he assumed was named Diego - in tow. He wanted to keep following you but he knew that wouldn’t be productive in any sense. Instead he was just feeling all sorts of things.

He was so intent on wanting to learn every little bit of your life in the short time he had; he didn’t even hear Miles pop up behind him. 

“What are you doing?” Miguel startled so harshly that he almost fell out of the tree. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the young spider, “everything alright here?”

“What are you…why - nevermind,” Miguel knew better than to question what Miles was doing there, “don’t sneak up on people like that, Miles.”

“Sorry,” the boy didn’t sound sorry at all, “you’ve been gone for a while and this seemed pretty simple so I wanted to make sure that nothing had gone wrong.”

“It’s fine,” Miguel hissed and looked around surreptitiously to make sure you and this Miguel had disappeared from view, “I just got a little…distracted.”

“Distracted?” Miles repeated. That was odd…Miguel was always all business and no play. Something was definitely going on, “are you sure you’re alright?”

When Miguel didn’t respond Miles looked around to see what could have gotten the man so distracted. He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and wasn’t able to draw any meaningful conclusions. Miguel turned to the younger boy with reddened cheeks and wild eyes, “yes. Now go back and focus on your jobs. I’ll be back soon.”

“If you’re-”

“Positive,” Miguel narrowed his eyes in a glare, “just let me do my work.”

“Okay…” Miles didn’t want to go, but Miguel already seemed annoyed and he wasn’t going to push the issue, “see you later.”

“Goodbye Miles,” he watched him pointedly until Miles left again. Once the boy was gone, he groaned loudly and smacked his head against the tree. 

The worst part of all was that Miguel had now lost track of you. He huffed heavily…it looked like his personal espionage quest was finished for now. 

Even if he never saw you again, at least he would always have this memory of you. 

He just hoped that the you back in your world was willing to talk to him, despite how awful he had been. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What are you doing here?” your entire face fell as you looked at Miguel standing on your doorstep. You sighed heavily, and without waiting for an answer, started to close the door, but Miguel stopped you by lodging his foot in the door, “Miguel.”

“Don’t go,” he barked out, surprising both of you. His face warmed up as you opened and closed your mouth a few times. Your frown quickly returned and you crossed your arms over his chest, “I mean don’t…please don’t leave the team.”

“Give me one good reason,” you waited for an answer, but instead you were met with silence. You could tell that he was struggling with trying to say something but still you didn’t receive an answer. Scoffing, you tried to push him, “exactly. You don’t need me. Goodbye.”

“I don’t want you to go!” that caused you to stop in your tracks as your mouth dropped open. Miguel groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face at the sudden and seemingly unexpected confession. He waited for you to yell at him or something - anything. But instead you studied him intently. 

“Say it again,” your voice was less confident than you’d intended. You cringed internally but the expression on Miguel’s face made you feel slightly less awkward, “please?”

“I don’t want you to go,” he repeated softly, a small little half smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a nervous laugh, “you are Miguel.”

“And I’m sorry,” you hadn’t been expecting his first confession, and you definitely hadn’t been expecting an apology. Maybe you’d fallen into the wrong universe without knowing it, “so…yeah.”

“Are you going to kiss me or…?” you knew there was still a lot to go over but right now you really wanted this. You’d both been dancing around this for far too long. 

His hands found your face and he kissed you without hesitation. Apparently that was all he needed in order to finally make his move. It was almost embarrassing how often he thought about and wanted this. You hesitated for a moment before kissing him back and jumping into his arms, eager to have him all over you. 

He kissed like he did everything else - with purpose and his whole heart in it. It didn’t even phase you that you were making out in the middle of the hallway of your apartment building. Neither of you pulled apart until you were desperate for a breath of air. 

Miguel set you back down and the two of you exchanged shy, but happy smiles. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what exactly to say. He hadn’t thought this far - he definitely hadn’t thought he’d get to this point. 

“What changed your mind?” you asked quietly and his eyes widened in surprise at your question. Not that it was a weird question. 

“I’m not sure you’d believe it,” you couldn’t help but laugh at that before gesturing around and between yourselves.

“Miguel,” you dropped your voice so only the two of you could hear, “we have spider abilities and can travel between different universes. What could possibly that’s so crazy and I wouldn’t believe it?”

“You sure you want to hear it?”

“Duh.”

“That job I went on,” you huffed slightly because it was that very job that he’d forbidden you from going on, “I saw something.”

“Let me guess,” you had to hold back your giggles as you figured out exactly where this was going, “you found us and we happened to be married. Maybe with a kid?”

“H-how did you know?!”

“Because,” you opened the door and gestured for him to follow you inside, “in almost every universe I’ve gone to where we’re there we’ve been…together.”

“Oh,” his cheeks turned red as closed the door and leaned against it, “oh.”

“Oh,” you teased in return, “I wondered if you’d ever notice. You know what that means, right?”

“What does it mean?”

“I think it means you should kiss me,” there was a coquettish look on your face as he swallowed thickly, “unless you don’t want to?”

“I want to,” he stepped closer to you as you smiled up at him, “I really want to.”

“So do it.”

[wlntrsldler]

Hiiiiii!!!! I love Apple Pie by Lizzy McAlpine!! Can I get Jamie Tartt to apple pie?

apple pie | jamie tartt

based on the song apple pie by lizzy mcalpine

description: jamie gets insecure sometimes, but having you with him helps.

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (f!reader she/her)

warnings: lots of kissing, self-doubt, insecurities, mention of jamie's dad

word count: 2631

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

When Jamie first got into a relationship with you, he knew that both of your busy schedules would pose a problem down the road. With his football career seemingly reaching new peaks every season and your acting career taking off after being cast in what is being called “the film that revived the dying genre of romantic comedies,” the amount of time you get to spend with each other decreased significantly since the start of your relationship. 

You first met Jamie halfway through his returning season at AFC Richmond. You met him at a birthday dinner party for a friend of a friend where you relentlessly teased him for his ridiculous, but outstanding performance, on Lust Conquers All. You had originally praised him for it when you were fully under the impression that he was putting on an act. You didn’t find out that he was just being his prick-ish self, albeit his younger prick-ish self, until about four months into your relationship when he embarrassedly admitted it to you. That’s how you found yourself rewatching the entire season together on his couch until 2 hours before Roy knocked on his door for his training session. 

At first, Jamie thought you were making fun of him. His insecurities would still peek in here and there and sometimes he couldn’t help but worry that you’d see him as nothing more than a dumb footballer like everyone else does. He quickly realized, though, that while you were losing your mind laughing at how he acted in the show, making fun of him was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“Why’d ya wanna watch this shit anyways?” he grumbled, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. “It’s just poopy. ‘M not even like that anymore.” 

“I know,” you sat up, pausing the show when you heard his voice crack. You knew the tone of Jamie’s voice when he was cracking jokes and when he was happy, and this voice wasn’t one or the other. You turned your body to face him, “I know you aren’t like this anymore, I just thought it would be funny.” 

“I dunno, I suppose it doesn’t make much sense to me.” 

“What doesn’t?” you questioned. “Why I want to watch it?” 

“Yeah,” Jamie replied. His eyes were looking at everything but at you. He was playing with the threads of the blanket loosely draped over his legs. He rubbed his nose with his balled-up fist. “Why does it matter how I was before you? I’m better now, yeah? Unless you don’t think so...” 

“Oh, love,” you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. You were so engrossed in the episode on the TV that you didn’t realize how uncomfortable Jamie was feeling about the whole situation. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention to how you were feeling about this. We can stop watching it.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He hummed, tugging on your hoodie to pull you closer to him. “I just don’t want you to see how I used to be and realize you don’t want to be with a prick like that, even if I have changed, you know? I don’t know… I just thought that with ya, I’d have a fresh start.” 

“Jamie Tartt, enough of that now,” You took over being the big spoon, which made Jamie nuzzle into your neck contently, “You have changed. You’re an amazing man and the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. I only wanted to watch this show because it’s such a shitty show that it’s nice to just unwind. When I watch this Jamie on the screen, my brain can’t even comprehend that it’s you.” 

“You don’t think I’m a prick anymore, yeah?” Jamie asked again, hoping that he’d get a confirmation, “Like you wouldn’t leave me over that?”

You’ve learned over the past few months things about Jamie– one of which is that he needs to be told positive things or else he’d spiral. The thing is, if you could go into his mind and turn off that control box that spews self-doubt and insecurities to him, you would do it in a heartbeat. But since you can’t, you were more than happy to shower him with love and adoration in hopes that your voice can drown the rest of them out. 

“Never,” you placed your lips on his in a soft kiss. “You’d have to work a hell of a lot harder to get rid of me.” 

“I’m working double overtime just so you’d keep me, love,” he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. His hand reached for the remote to turn the TV off to leave you both in the glow of the floor lamp in his living room. 

“You don’t have to work hard for that.” 

Jamie had gotten used to having you around his flat. He would leave for 4 AM training with Roy with you on his bed, often naked, then return at around 6:30 AM to shower and join you back in bed for another hour before you woke up. He’d wake up for the second time that day with you drawing patterns on his chest and a soft smile on your face. He’d lean over and place a loving kiss on your lips and he’d feel prepared to start the day. 

You were filming a show in London for three months, which meant that for three months, this was Jamie’s life. In between projects, you stayed at his place. For two weeks after the wrap party, you came home to him, visited him at the facility, and went to all the team outings, home games, and away games with him. He was with you 24/7 and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn’t realize how he took it for granted until filming ended.

Three weeks ago, you flew to New York City to begin filming another movie. With training and games, Jamie hasn’t been able to take time off to visit you, and with filming just starting, you couldn’t fly back to Richmond either. 

Jamie was doing fine– as fine as someone can be when their daily routine was abruptly disrupted. He was proud of you. The premise of the movie seemed perfect for you and was a seamless continuation of the romantic comedy trend you were on. People were buzzing for your next project, especially after your last one was so well received. He was so proud of you…. But he also missed you. 

During the three weeks that you were gone, you and Jamie still texted each other constantly and FaceTimed everyday, despite the crazy time difference. He wanted to make it work, and so did you, so you did what you could to stay in touch. While not being able to hold you and kiss you for three weeks was killing Jamie, he was glad he was still able to spend time with you. Things didn’t get to Jamie until Jan Maas made an off-handed comment about it.

All of them were packing up after training, feeling extremely antsy with the Man City match on the horizon, Jamie especially. There were a lot of things on his mind, including the possibility of seeing his father, who he hadn’t seen since Wembley, and playing against his old team was always a trip. In short, he wasn’t feeling his best and the fact that you weren’t nearby made it worse. 

“Jamie, we have not seen Y/N in a while,” Sam noted, “Is everything okay with you two?” 

“She’s filming a movie in New York, bruv,” Isaac replied before Jamie could speak, “Right, Tartt?” 

Jamie nodded, putting his shirt over his head, “Yeah. She’ll be gone for a few months, at least.” 

“I do not know how you’re gonna survive, Jamie,” Jan Maas said. “You are so clingy when it comes to her. I don’t think you can make it all those months.” 

The rest of the team chuckled at Jan’s teasing tone, but Jamie furrowed his eyebrows in thought. Was he clingy? He frowned as he continued to put his things away. He picked up his phone from his cubby, smiling when he received a few messages from you while he was at training. As he was about to respond, Jan’s comment made him stop in his tracks. 

Maybe it would be best to let you have a night to yourself. You had a life outside of him and you deserve to be able to live it without having him cling to you all the time. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, slipping his phone in his back pocket, before walking out of the locker room to head to his place. 

When you woke up to no text from Jamie, you assumed that he was just worn out from training and didn’t have the energy to reply. You’ve seen the intense training he went through, so you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. But as the day went on and there was still no word from Jamie– you’d even checked the timezone clock on your phone to make sure you weren’t being unreasonable– you began to worry. FaceTime calls went unanswered and instead, you were met with the Apple automated response, “Sorry, can’t talk right now.” 

To: lover boy <3

“Hi, love. Got some exciting news, you free to chat? Xx” 

By the time you were boarding the plane to Manchester, Jamie still hadn’t texted you back. After begging the producers to give you a week off filming, they finally agreed. You asked for this week in particular, knowing that you wanted to be there for Jamie for the Man City match. There was a lot on the line for Jamie and you wanted to be there for him no matter what happened. 

The entire plane ride back to England was filled with dread and anxiety. It wasn’t like Jamie to not respond. Unless he was at a game, training, or sleeping, but even then he had a special ringtone for you that wakes him up whenever you called, he always replied to your messages as soon as possible. When you landed, everything that could go wrong went wrong. Your plane was stuck on the tarmac for an hour because there were problems with the gate. Your luggage got delayed which left you sitting at baggage claim for another 45 minutes. When you finally arrived at the hotel the team was staying at– shoutout to Ted for being yours and Jamie’s number one supporter and telling you where they were staying– Jamie was nowhere to be found. 

You dragged your luggage to Jamie’s room, plopping on the bed tiredly. You glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 9:28 PM. Ted mentioned that there was a 10 PM curfew so you hoped that tonight was not one of the nights where Jamie decided to break the rules. Ted also mentioned that Jamie has not been himself lately, which did nothing to soothe your panic. You hopped in the shower to rinse yourself from the long day you’ve had. You did your night routine and dug into Jamie’s bag to retrieve his AFC Richmond hoodie. Before putting it on, you held it up to your nose, sighing as your senses were filled with Jamie. You missed him. 

It was 9:57 PM when you heard the door unlock. You were on his bed, scrolling aimlessly on social media, when you saw him. You sat up, shutting your phone off. He walked in with his head low. His shoulders were hunched over a bit, but he looked okay. He looked better than how Ted described him. 

He kicked off his shoes, before looking at you on his bed, startled. His eyes widened, first in fear that there was someone in his room, then in surprise that it was you in his room. His lips curved down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in sadness. 

“Baby,” you whispered, moving to the side of the bed to make room for him. 

Jamie knew that he needed to not be clingy. He didn’t want to bother you too much. He was trying to be cool. But when you called him “baby,” with that voice, in his hoodie on his bed, his resolve crumbled to pieces.

He ran to you, nearly tackling you off the bed when he engulfed you in his arms. He buried his face in your neck, a mix of your lotion and the cologne he sprays on his clothes surrounding him. You cradled the back of his head, mumbling how much you missed him into his shoulder. Jamie could cry. He hasn’t seen you in so long, but here you are now. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked when he finally pulled away from you. He couldn’t stray too far though. His arm was still wrapped around you while you cuddled into his side. “I thought you were in New York.” 

“Well, if you bothered to answer my texts,” you trailed off, faking a voice of sadness. You poked his side, “You would’ve seen that I had exciting news. The producers gave me a week off after begging them since I first got to New York and this week is perfect because I know tomorrow’s match is gonna be a lot for you. I wanted to be here for you, whatever the outcome is.” 

“Oh.” Jamie was speechless. Here he was ignoring you like a prick while you were planning to come back just to be here for him. He didn’t deserve you. 

“Yeah,” you continued, “If tomorrow we celebrate, I’ll be here making sure that you drink enough water so that your hangover the next day won’t be too much. If tomorrow we try to never think about it again, I’ll sit next to you on the bus in silence holding your hand and when we get home we can do the same thing.” 

Home. You were here and he felt like he was home. 

“I missed you so much,” Jamie sighed. He kissed you all over your face, giving your lips extra attention. “‘M sorry if I was bothering you by texting and calling so much over the last few weeks… I just missed you loads and I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Baby, you didn’t text and call me enough,” you played with his hair, running your fingers through the strands. “If it was possible, I would stay on a call with you all day, everyday. Can’t get enough of ya.” 

He smiled, his worries disappearing with every word you said, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, I love you, Jamie Tartt.” You kissed him deeply. “Couldn’t get tired of you even after a million years. Now, catch me up! Tell me everything.” 

Jamie, feeling like himself again, began to tell you everything you missed over the last few weeks– meeting Sam’s father, meeting Ted’s mum, Roy and Keeley, and seeing his mum earlier that night, which is why he came home late. He talked about how a visit to Georgie and Simon helped lift his spirits, and how Georgie was gushing about you and asking him when you’ll come to visit again. 

Then he talked about his fears for tomorrow and everything that’s been piling up on him ever since you left. As he spoke, you rubbed his back comfortingly, a small reminder that you’ll always be here no matter what. 

Jamie knew that he still had a lot of work to do. He knew that his insecurities could get the best of him sometimes and it can cause him to push back on people who love and care about him, but he was trying. You believed in him and that’s all he needed.

[justevelynnnn]

Nsfw alphabet Wolverine💛💙

Notes: Hellloooooo Everyone… Ok so I did see the wonderful Wolverine and Deadpool movie and now I’m obsessed with this man and this character. Like specifically this Hugh jackman wolverine. I’m gonna admit right now…I never cared about Wolverine until seeing that movie. I never saw any of the other movies either😭 I barely even know what the “X-men” are. My dad is the marvel fan so he kinda just puts me on and is the only reason I care about these hero movies to begin with… Soooo I’m sorry to any long time fans… but anyways because I just cannot stop thinking about this movie and this guy I’m doing my first ever nsfw alphabet thingy! ✨🎉🎊 Yippie!!

I mighttt do a sfw version. But I dunno, I’ve only ever seen this one movie so I might miss important little pieces of his character but I really just wanna do this so yeah😞. Sorry for rambling, I hope everyone enjoysss 👍🏾👍🏾

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Don’t let that grump personality fool you, Logan is honestly really sweet after everything is all over. He has some towels nearby to help clean you off and he’ll even offer you water. He’s experienced so he knows what he’s doing. Sometimes if he feels like he was too rough with you he’ll even try to massage your sore muscles.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of he had to pick would be his arms. He spends a lot of time keeping up his fit and strong appearance. Especially his biceps, and they’re honestly your favorite part of him too.

His favorite part of you is your hips. He loves squeezing them even when he’s not in bed. He loves watching them sway as you walk. How they look in skirts and nice dresses… It’s the first thing he noticed about you and they kinda drive him crazy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Logan doesn’t jack off a lot (he’d rather drink tbh) and with the constant missions he’s too busy to really… “relieve himself” so whenever he did get with someone he’d cum alot.

He did a lot of one night stands before you. Just meaningless sex to get off. But you changed everything. Cumming was so much better with someone he actually cared about. He loved it.

He still came quite a bit. It had no real taste or anything either.

He doesn’t care where either but he likes watching you swallow it or just watching it disappear in you in general.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really wants to fuck you somewhere public. Even better if there’s a huge risk of being caught. He never will ask but he really hopes one day you’ll try and initiate it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Given that he’s almost 200, he has…quite a bit. Like said before he did a lot of one night stands between missions so he eventually picked up on a lot. He knows what makes people tick.

So of course when you came along he could tell what you’d like just by how you’d walk. And of course he’s very attentive so any squirming or noise you made he’d pay attention to it all and remember for the future.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything he can see your face in. He doesn’t care. He’s honestly not a big fan of doggy either but if you like it he’ll do it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a bit serious but not super serious. He’ll laugh at a few things but he won’t be telling too many jokes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He actually keeps himself pretty neat down there. He likes to keep things shaven enough so the people that do go down on him don’t get mouthfuls of hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Let’s just say the better he knows you, the more intimate he is. Oh course with his one night stands he didn’t care if people finished or not and that’s just how it was. Kinda cold tbh.

With you he’s pretty intimate especially the closer y’all are. He likes to hold you close to him and sometimes if he’s feeling really sweet and sappy he’ll stare into your eyes more…

He’s not too too sweet but he’s sweet enough for being Logan.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He never really used to jack off. Didn’t feel the appeal. Before he really got into sleeping around he’d just drink. Somehow it helped curve his lust. Then when he started sleeping with a bunch of others he jerked off even less. And when you came into his life..even less. If you two didn’t have sex for a while and he was super desperate and missing you he’d rub a quick one out. Desperate times, desperate measures!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than exhibitionism and sometimes just plain dirty talking,……primal play. He’s always been a feral guy so it makes sense. He never considered it before you but you really changed him. He wasn’t into it at first though because he was scared he’d hurt you but once you said it was ok and taught him what a safe word was he tried it and it changed his life. Deep down he really loved being a bit more primal in bed with you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t care or have a favorite place. Most of the time y’all end up in his bed or wherever y’all are sleeping for the night but he doesn’t care where in the end.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Before you, nothing… he didn’t care much as long as the person has a fuckable hole. He preferred women but if it was a guy he wouldn’t mind.

When you came into his life, it was everything. The way you’d talk, move, dress even sometimes. He has a lot of self control though so you weren’t aware of how crazy you drove him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t wanna hurt you. He doesn’t wanna yell hurtful things at you either. You once brought up him using his claws and jut flat out declined. How would he even incorporate them? Just no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Before you, he’d rather receive. That was kinda the whole point of sleeping around the way he would, to get off.

After he met you he became obsessed with getting you off. And he was really good at it too of course with all his experience. He loved fingering and using his tongue at the same time but if you had a preference he’d obey immediately. He just loved getting you off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Logan was normally just lazy and sensual. He didn’t care about being a top or bottom but he’d normally default to bottom. He was never too crazy with his one night stands. He’d only be fast and rough if he was mad enough which was rare. He didn’t like hurting people during sex.

When you came along he kinda stayed the same but if you’d ask him to be a certain way he would. He didn’t like being rough with you either too much honestly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s ok with them. Of course with you he’d rather spend more time making love to you but if time didn’t allow it he’d totally be down for a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d experiment with the primal play thing but other than that ehhh… once Deadpool suggested a threesome, and though Logan considered it for a second he said no. Maybe if he was drunk enough…

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Being the way he is, he can go all night. This man had a lot of stamina it was actually kinda insane. Of course he’d be more tired after a mission but at minimum he could go for maybe 5, 6 rounds if that was the case?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn’t really care for toys honestly. He didn’t hate them he’d just rather not. He always was like that too even before you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes if he was a bit drunk he’ll tease but he doesn’t really do it much. It’s rare..

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Logan’s never been too loud. He definitely grunts and groans and when he gets with you he moans a bit too. But other than that he’s quiet.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There’s different things saying different things about his sexuality but I saw something about him behind bi and I agree

Did he or did he not fuck Deadpool in that Honda odyssey😭

I just don’t think he cared who he ended up sleeping with as long as he got off

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s girthy. I firmly belief it idc. I forgot the average length but I think he’d be like 6 and a halfish. Oh and he knows how to use it too of course

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Like said he never cared to jack off but sometimes he did get a bit needy from time to time so that’s what lead to the in between mission fucks. With you he’d be good if y’all did it at least a few times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

With the random people he’d sleep with, immediately. He didn’t care as long as he got off, came and the other person was done.

With you though he couldn’t until he knew you were good. Sometimes he would lay still for a bit to catch his breath but after a bit he would do his usual aftercare with you and sometimes he would wait until you feel asleep first.

[jayke0]

Do You Feel... Weird?

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

Summary: kinktober day 4, Sex Pollen 

Rating: 18+

Warnings/content: sex pollen, chubby reader, yearning finally comes to fruition, friends to lovers, grinding, lots of swearing, protected sex (the pill), p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, fucking everywhere, lmk if there's anything else i should add :).

Word count: 1,532 (yes they're getting longer)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

"What the fuck was that?" You ask, choking on the fine dust that'd just been blasted in your face.

Marc looks at you with concern and shakes his head. "Shit, I don't know, just stay there ok? Sit down." You feel his large hands push you down till you're sat on the cold stone and you roll your eyes; what's the point of him asking if he's just going to do it anyway?

You shouldn't be mad at him actually, you love how concerned he gets for you when you're on a mission together.

You watch him slink off, which is shortly followed by grunting and crashing and a whole lot of yelling, most of which is Marc's, but eventually he comes back, seemingly choking on the same stuff you'd been at the mercy of.

"Got you too huh?" You chuckle a little, since he always has a bit of a god complex about being able to fight anything and anyone.

"Yeah—" he rubs his throat with a wheeze, "c'mon, lets get the fuck outta here."

The drive home is quiet, but you keep glancing over at the man; is he getting hotter by the second? The way his curls are still sticking to his forehead is something you'd usually fix for him by pushing them out of his face, but right now it's just making you bite your lip. You notice how the veins and muscles in his arms are more prominent.. are they always like that? It's as if his blood is coursing through his body faster and harder than usual. His T-shirt is sticking to his body, exposing his toned chest and arms—

Good God, you wanna fuck him.

You're too busy eyeing him to notice the way that he's glancing at you himself, his eyes quickly switching between the road and your thighs, the way they're squished against the car seat makes his cock twitch in his jeans, and he has to rest his hand on his crotch just to hide his growing bulge.

"Marc, do you feel any... different?" You ask tentatively as you approach your front door. Usually this is when you'd say bye to him, but you just wanna drag him inside and make him fuck you over and over till you can't walk anymore, it's…

"Weird, yeah." He answers, and it's only when your eyes curiously drop to his crotch that you notice he must be feeling the same as you. "Oh, thank fuck." You chuckle; certainly the first time you've been relieved by an unwarranted boner.

"Sorry, I dunno what's wrong with me. Imma go home now, lets just pretend this never happened." He waves his hands wildly, which gives you the opportunity to grab his wrists.

"Please don't go... I—I want you." You mumble to him before slamming your lips into his.

Marc lets out a reassured sigh against your lips as he kisses you back with the same furiosity, his hands cupping your face to keep you there so he can lick into your mouth and taste you better.

Somehow, you make it all the way to your couch without tripping backwards, though maybe Marc's strong grip is enough to keep you from falling, instead pulling you towards himself as he scrambles to sit down and have you on his lap. You pull from his lips just to latch on to his neck and graze your teeth across his tanned skin. "What... was that stuff?" You ask as you lick at the salty skin.

"Dunno... some kinda aphrodisiac I guess." He responds while helping you pull your jacket off and rolling his hips against yours, which in turn makes his cock grind perfectly against your clit even through both of your jeans.

"Fucking hell, Marc," is all you can reply, your nerves feeling like they're on overtime as his tip butts that bundle of nerves. Honestly, you could just grind on him till you cum, but the isatiable feeling to have him inside you seems to be growing stronger by the fucking second.

"Shit, you're fucking hot like this, grinding against my cock, does it make you feel good?" You nod and Marc's hands roam underneath your shirt before pulling it off, exposing your chest spilling out of your bra due to not having readjusted it since the mission. "Oh fuck, your tits are just—" he doesn't get to finish his sentence before he's burying his face between them, biting and sucking whatever flesh he can get his mouth on while his other hand his occupied with groping your hips and tummy.

You groan softly and tug at his shirt to finally take it off as well and reveal his toned body. "Hooooly shit, Marc," you chuckle a little. "God damn, you're beautiful..." Your fingers run up and down his chest before your hands come to rest on his shoulders.

"Fuck me Marc, I need you inside me, like right fucking now."

Marc doesn't waste another second before he's tossing you back on the couch and practically ripping his jeans off. You can see how his cock is throbbing in his boxers and leaving a wet patch of precum, the sight makes your mouth water; if you didn't need him inside you so bad you'd offer to suck him dry instead… maybe later.

He's seemingly resorted to making animalistic grunts and growls as he hungrily scans your body and pulls your jeans down, just with a little more care than he did with his own, but your underwear doesn't get the same treatment. He literally tears them from your body which makes you gasp in surprise, and then whimper, fuck he's so hot like this. 

Somehow, he also manages to wiggle his boxers off during that, exposing his length to you, and fuck is he big. Usually you'd find a man with that size intimidating, but Marc has never looked more attractive to you, and the way his tip weeps for you only makes you squirm more and pull him down into a heated kiss.

"Wait wait..." he pants against the heat of your mouth, "are you on anything?"

You groan, but you know that future you will appreciate the fact he asked. "Yes, so just put it in already." You tug his hips and his cock notches against your clit, making you jolt and whimper and resulting in a moan from the man.

'Finally, fucking finally', you think to yourself as his fat cock slides inside you, stretching you out to the point it makes you tense up.

"I know, I know, just relax. I know it's a stretch... but fuck you're squeezing me so good." Marc moans, sliding deeper inside you until he eventually bottoms out.

You already feel fucked out just from the size of him, but as he draws his hips back and the blunt tip drags along your g-spot, you grip his shoulders to ask him for more; and he obliges.

Marc's pace is relentless, his hips working to fuck you open and practically impale you, and you love every second of it, your cunt twitching and throbbing around him. Your throat feels like it's throbbing as well, what with how loud you're moaning, each time his hips collide with yours it sends sparks through your entire body and yanks a strangled noise out of you.

It's barely been a couple of minutes before you're cumming hard on his cock, clenching around him and causing him to come undone too, filling you with more cum than you've ever felt spill from a guy. You don't feel him go soft though, instead it feels like he gets impossibly harder, and he gives you pleading eyes.

"Please baby, fuck it feels so good, lemme fill you up again." He says breathlessly.

"Ok, give it to me Marc, over and over." You reply, and he draws another orgasm out of you in just a matter of minutes.

You continue like that for the rest of the evening, you're bodies slapping together and filling your apartment with filthy noises while you use almost every surface available to you.

You fuck over the arm of the couch, Marc groping and marking the flesh on your ass and thighs as he ruins you from behind and makes you grip the couch pillows so hard it could tear the material. Even the floor isn't safe; you'd migrated to it after your legs gave out and couldn't hold you up any longer, so he simply laid you down with your ass in his lap and fucked you like that.

After hours, the effects finally start to wear off and you both end up collapsing on the couch again, this time to sleep. When you wake up you're greeted with a now fully dressed Marc cleaning you up gently. 

"Don't move, don't want you straining yourself, just stay there, ok?" He pats your thigh and helps you pull a new shirt on "I'll look after you, it's the least I can do."

'Maybe I should go on more missions with him', you think to yourself as you close your eyes again, a big smile spreading across your face.

…………………………………………….......................

Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @saevenswelt @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra @queerponcho

[martialartslover7]

Headcanon time: Am I the only one who feels like, Jiraiya should have left this little compensation gift for Tsunade, before heading off to fight Pain? Dying in the process, while still leaving a remainder of his legacy behind? Making up for lost time, and allowing the two to heal together, after years of fearful denial and trauma?

I get that the Naruto series is practically infamous for how poorly the female characters were handled, but honestly, this one time, where one woman in the series would end up pregnant, where I would wholeheartedly SUPPORT it, would be Tsunade. Think about it, after the war, after fighting Madara, she practically returned to the same solitude lifestyle she had, before encountering Naruto. She didn't change for the better, in fact, she regressed completely. She returned to living without any purpose, going back to gambling and getting senselessly drunk, practically every day.

Look, I get it, by the time Kakashi becomes Hokage, she might have just retired and wanted to be left alone, but is this really all there is to it? Just regressing back to negative habits, because, screw you? I dunno, man, this is that one time where, if she DID end up having a child to take care of, it might have elevated her character, instead of "putting her down", because it would mean: She has a purpose for living. And it would mean, her love for Jiraiya wasn't a "curse", like how it was with her previous lover, Dan. Jiraiya's love for her, saved her life, in the end. He turned out to be that one guy, that, even post-mortum, still managed to have a positive influence on her. And the child is a daily reminder, of how closely intertwined the two were, in spite of the trauma. That just sounds so beautiful, and far more conclusive to Tsunade as a character, than what happened in the actual story. Plus, she and Kurenai could have become besties and connect over the difficulties with pregnancy.

And yeah, I hear you calling: BuT tSuNaDe Is ToO oLd To GeT pReGgErS! Listen, the Strength of a Hundred Seal kept her entire appearance and body about twenty years younger, if that also applies to her organs and her uterus, that isn't a dead topic. Plus, we all know how much of a horny perv Jiraiya is, he couldn't have just left it at just one time, and then never again. Especially since, this is Tsunade we are talking about here, the one woman, he had always held so dear. And I can only imagine, the moment the dam breaks between the two, it would get... SPICY.

It wouldn't even come close to all these sex worker ladies that Jiraiya had probably slept with, while thinking about Tsunade, since he would always go for those, who KIND OF resemble her. But I will bet, in spite of his attitude, I doubt he would have even minded to see Tsunade all wrinkly and old. His love for her was genuine and deep-rooted, I doubt he would have had any problems with her getting "saggy". She would have been THE golden exception, to most of his "rules" on what he finds attractive, because to him, everything about her, is attractive, not just the looks.

But another point to consider, just imagine, IMAGINE, the look on Naruto's face, the moment he learns that part of his father figure will continue to live on, inside Tsunade. That all his sacrifices were never in vain, and he finally got over himself to tell her the truth, resulting in the birth of their child, the one to carry on both of their legacies. Naruto would have cherished this baby, just imagine him tearfully cradling it in his arms, swearing to protect it, the same way his mom swore to him, when he was still a newborn. Oh god, my heart...

...it would also be a nice callback to how Kushina held Naruto, right after birth.

Plus, it would have given Naruto, much like when Shikamaru revealed to him, how Kurenai bore the child of her and Asuma before he died, a much bigger motivation to fight Madara, Obito, and later, Sasuke. The stakes would have become way higher then, if that were the case, since, this isn't anyone's child, it's Jiraiya's and Tsunade's child. Two people, who have played major roles in Naruto's life, being his foster parents, if you will. And he would have fought way harder to defend the past, the present and the future, while facing Sasuke. I mean, sure, it's doubtful if Sasuke would have ever had the guts to truly go through with this, since he couldn't even bring himself to kill either Naruto or Sakura, no matter how hard he tried, so, if he couldn't do that, then everything would be out of the question. But you get the point.

And for NaruHina and SasuSaku fans: Yup. Both Naruto and Sakura would have probably had to take care of Tsunade's baby, since they were the closest to her, and it could have been an ideal training method for either of them, to grasp all about the stressful nature of raising a child, while still working as shinobi and in their respective fields of work. It would have mentally prepared either of them, for when Hinata and Sasuke finally decide to tie the knot with them, and build their own families. And to add another layer of pure sweetness: Kakashi and Anko would have gotten announced as the child's godparents, should something happen to Tsunade. Nuff' said.

I am sorry, despite Kakashi and Anko not looking like it, I think, both of them would be AWESOME godparents, or hell, even uncle and aunt. Both saw the worst of what life had to offer. Raising a child would be... child's play, by contrast. Just imagine Anko adorably doting on the baby in her crazy, unhinged, but very endearing way.

There you go, another headcanon of mine, spilled. What do you guys think? Lemme know. Peace.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

one more cup of coffee

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 850

a/n: pure, falling in love fluff based on the 8bitfiction quote "your color is everywhere"

You never noticed it before today, but now it’s everywhere. It’s in the coffee he drinks in the mornings, sewn into his fall jacket and winter coat, and stained onto his guitars and wood carvings. You can even see its richness in his hair and eyes. 

The color brown is everywhere. It’s his color. You’re constantly surrounded by him whether he’s with you or not, and the thought is so comforting. 

Joel doesn’t have a favorite color—you’ve asked him before and the answer is always the same—but if he did, you think it would be brown. It has the potential to be so many things: warm and deep, yet dark, and so full of life. Just like him.

They say when you fall in love, it’s something you just know in your heart is true, but they never say when you know. If it’s sudden or something that builds over time until you can’t ignore it anymore. 

Maybe it’s different for everyone, but you’re discovering that it’s possible to wake up on an unassuming Monday and realize how much you love the color brown. And the man it reminds you of. 

You always thought it would be some big revelation that changes everything, but here you are sitting at the kitchen table, sipping your coffee out of Joel’s favorite owl mug, feeling exactly the same. It’s how every morning goes and how they’ve gone every day for years. It’s your routine.

You hear floorboards creaking above you, and then there he is: right on cue. Walking down your brown, carpeted stairs in his brown suede coat, looking at you sleepily with the fondest look in his brown eyes. You watch him over the rim of his mug and he chuckles, shaking his head as he makes his way into the kitchen.

“There’s about a dozen mugs in this house and that’s the one ya chose, huh?” he says, voice still thick with sleep, as if that’s anything new. Your next sip is an extra loud slurp, and you let out a satisfied haah for good measure.

“I dunno what to tell you. Coffee just tastes better out of this one,” you shrug, and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, opening the cabinet to find something else to drink out of. “You drink yours too fast, anyway. It’d be wasted on you.”

Scoffing, he picks one with the phases of the moon printed on it that you’re pretty sure he found in a museum nearby. It’s Ellie’s favorite, but you both know she never eats breakfast and hates coffee, so he can get away with using it. 

“Not my fault I got places to be,” he looks at you pointedly. The moka pot on the stove starts to boil, and he waits for it to fill up before pouring himself a cup and sitting at the table across from you. “Still don’t know why ya got up so damn early when your shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

“Maybe I just like seeing you off in the morning. Ever thought of that?” He eyes you skeptically. You lean forward in your chair, resting your arms on the table with a grin. “Or maybe I just wanted the mug.”

Obviously, it’s not just the mug and Joel’s well aware of that. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you right now with adoration and a hint of wonder in his eyes. It must be mirrored in your own, and now you’re wondering if he notices anything different about you today. If he realizes what you suddenly woke up knowing with absolute clarity.

“Well, you’re gettin’ both this mornin’. Lucky you,” he says, giving you a small smile. And he’s right, you are so, so lucky. 

“Yeah, lucky me,” you nod, disappointment blooming in your chest as he takes the final sip of his coffee and gets up to put his cup in the sink. He returns to where you’re sitting to press a soft kiss against your forehead.

“Gotta go, sweetheart. I’ll see ya for dinner,” he murmurs into your hair before turning to leave. You reach out to grab the sleeve of his coat before he can get too far.

“Hey,” you start, heart beating a little faster in your chest, and he looks down at you curiously. You know you’ll see him again later, but you need him to hear it before he goes. It’s not that you’re expecting him to say it back or suddenly feel the same way you do, but you just…you want him to know. 

“You know I love you, right?”

His gaze softens and, this time, he leans down to kiss your lips. You close your eyes and sigh into him, tasting coffee and toothpaste as his tongue brushes fleetingly against yours, and when you open them, all you can see is brown.

He pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on yours, those warm brown eyes looking at you as if for the first time and, yet, the same way they always have.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

[jweekgoji]

yandere five with a reader who's just as smart as him, but is still really sweet. however, she won't take any of his shit and gets past all of his shenanigans, escaping every he drags her back.

Yandere!Five x Reader

warnings: yandere behaviour, dark themes (obviously), yandere Five, kidnapping, mentions of breaking bones.

a/n: I'm sorry if that's not...what you expected? i dunno why I'm saying this, it's just every time I'm doing requests I have a feeling I didn't do it perfectly? and you probably expected more-

For a man like Number Five, having a potential competitor around is kinda a great danger. For him? Haha! Definitely not, more for you. You see, since childhood, Five has been a pretty...competitive guy. He's faster, smarter, stronger than the ones he grew up with at the Academy when he was much younger.

In fact, meeting the same person who can make Five sweat so well would be very interesting to him. If Five were younger, his reaction would be simple. He wants to be the best, as well as get his dose of praise from Reginald, will simply start spending a day to get ahead of you. He'll work out, he'll solve more math equations, he'll read every book in the house day and night, he'll do anything to say, in the end, “I'll always be better.”

Five, who survived several apocalypses, life in the Commission and other things, will be a little...calmer. Yes, he has a younger body, which means he must have strength. But. Five was tired mentally and physically. His body may allow him to do a few runs around the academy if he really wants to, but the other question is, will he compete with you? No.

I understand that you are probably a little disappointed with this answer, yes? Sorry, but Five is not 13 years old! There may be a part of him that wants to get some praise from Reggie, but for the most part, he just doesn't care. He is an old man. He's 58 years old guys, all he wants to do is drink coffee and read some newspaper while enjoying a legal retirement. Your games do not impress him, play such games with Diego or Ben from Sparrow, and please do not bother him.

And so, we approach the other side, by some miracle Five liked you so much that he now loves you, congratulations! I think some of your sarcasm plus sweet and intelligent behaviour will annoy him a little, but for the most part it will amuse him. You, compared to him, are so inexperienced and cute, you are probably trying to copy him, right? He will rather laugh at your behavior.

But if you really are really incredibly smart, then congratulations, you can even shut him up for a while. Remember how Viktor reminded him of the events of season 2?

You stand next to Five, silently looking at him, then at his older doppelgänger lying on the cold metal surface of the table. A moment, and you noticeably shift your gaze first to the younger, then to the old man, and so on several times. This obviously does not go unnoticed by Five and he, already on the verge of breakdown, turns to you.

„What?” he practically grinds his teeth, trying to keep from sounding rougher.

“Nothing,” you shrug, chuckling softly. “It’s just that if he is you, and you are the creator of the Commission, then it’s a little funny.”

He raises one eyebrow at your words and, moving away from his counterpart, now seems a little interested in your point of view.

“What the hell is funny about that? Can you try to explain yourself, missy?”

“You complained that the suitcases are not bulletproof, but it turns out that this is like your mistake?” you are still smiling. “It's not that I blame you...”

For a moment there is only awkward silence between the two of you. You look at him, he looks at you, only making this conversation more awkward now. He seemed to think about your words and the realization really hit him hard, and his face turns red, more likely from anger, and possibly embarrassment.

“You brat really think it's a good idea to say it right now-”

I think if you have yandere Number Five behind you, who, if you remember, is one of the most dangerous people in the world, then you must be pretty damn smart. You must be much smarter than him, considering the fact that you are a simple person with no abilities. It will be incredibly difficult for you to avoid problems if he wants to have you with him 24/7, since he can literally appear at any moment and move you anywhere and you won’t even have time to blink.

Dealing with a person with teleportation is a 50/50 situation where you may or may not get lucky. Your reaction should be quick and immediate, being able to analyze your situation in a stressful situation, because then the right to make a mistake is a luxury that you cannot afford.

Right now, one of your many attempts to escape from Five, and you can tell exactly how he is not happy about this fact. How many times have you already done this? Five times? Ten? Twenty?! He is tired of constantly pulling you away from leaving the house, you damn annoying him at such moments, and after each such attempt, he often has to change the doors and locks on the windows, because you, by some fucking miracle, manage to break them.

“Can you stop this for one freaking day?” he hisses angrily, wrapping one arm around your neck, pressing you closer to him.

His other hand is on top of your mouth, thereby shutting you up. Just from looking at Five's face, you can see how tired he is. Sweat runs down his forehead and his chest rises up and down incredibly fast.

There is a slight smile on your face and for a moment you froze, looking up at him.

“Oh, I'm really sorry for all the trouble I'm causing you,” you say in your real, sad voice. “And sorry about that too.”

Without giving your kidnapper time to react, you strike him hard in the side with your elbow, causing him to groan in pain and let go of you for a moment. Enough for you to be able to escape from it.

If you are smart and have abilities that can help you, then it will be a little easier for you. Because you can at least protect yourself a little if something happens. But in the end, Five is an experienced killer who has a lot of experience and a mountain of corpses behind his back, so at some point the cat and mouse games will end and you can hardly escape your fate.

“You really made me all so worked up over this little games of yous ,” he admits, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But in the end, you can’t run away from fate, right, angel?”

“My dear, it's only a matter of time before I can get away from you again,” you chirp happily, your wrists a little sore from how tight the ropes are pressing against your skin, but your whole appearance doesn't show it.

“Then I need to try to take this opportunity away from you forever,” his hand rests on your knee, squeezing lightly. Your breath is held for a moment and you look down, your heart beats stronger in your chest and it seemed that it was about to jump out.

He won't dare to break your legs, will he?

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I am so happy you're back and seem to be doing even a little bit better! We missed you!

I wanted to send a little message, so you can ignore it if it sours your mood or you don't feel like dealing with it, feel no pressure at all! It's just this blog has been a safe space and the community has been so welcoming that I figured I could vent really quick

You know when sometimes the brain just has a really shitty day, like when you draw something and it screams at you that it's trash even though there's nothing wrong with it? I've been having a rough time with it deciding to scream that comfort characters would cheat, probably as an 'You are so unlovable not even fictional characters would be loyal' bullshit. Now, logically, I know this makes -67 sense. But, I was wondering if you could just reassure that like, Sanji, Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Crocodile, Blablablablabla long list of One Piece characters you write for, would not cheat? I'm sorry, this sounds lame to even write out but I'm trying to get my brain to stop thinking that asking for help is 'pathetic' because it is not and it only applies that logic to me, never to anyone else.

I dunno man. Brains and bring human ate both though af.

I missed all of you as well. Really and sincerely. I have a tendency to go radio silent when I'm going through a difficult time and I hate it immensely, but hearing that I was missed to makes me all

And yes, oh gods, I know. My brain is frequently my worst enemy. Especially when I'm not writing. My anxiety starts working overtime and my creative drive becomes dedicated to coming up with problems that could potentially happen for me to worry about even more and it's an absolute bitch; or even when I am actively creating and a little voice insists that everything I make is stupid garbage.

This is still very much and always will be a safe space. It definitely is awful to feel that unworthy of love. Full disclosure, I've mentioned in passing before that I've been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder depressive type. My main issue is auditory hallucinations that like to insist that everyone I love and care about only tolerate me out of pity and secretly would rather I not be around, which leads to me isolating myself from people. Huge part of the reason I go silent when life decides to be a bitch. I know it's just as bad feeling that way about comfort characters, if not even worse, when we're supposed to have them to help us get through that kind of bullshit.

So let me provide a little drabble for the one comfort character I’m certain wouldn’t ever allow us to continue being so silly about our worthiness of love and affection, because we’re all worthy of such a basic human need. I may do more later, but one in particular jumped at the opportunity to provide this comfort, and I fear he may counter me with his dreaded puppy-dog-eyes should I even dare attempt to wait.

Good Enough

OPLA!Sanji x AFAB!Reader

Lil drabble thingy

SFW, Hurt/Comfort

Possible TRIGGER WARNINGS for depression, insecurity, self-worth

♫♬ Moonshine ♬♫ — The Fratellis (yes I’m STILL on my Fratellis BS leave me be)

"Never knowing is the most evil feeling, when every answer here is none too appealing"

Sanji had always been a flirt. You knew that from the moment you started working on the wait staff at Baratie. Your trust issues had made it a little difficult for you to open up around the young sous chef (and occasional waiter on the frequent occasion that Zeff kicked him out of the kitchen for insubordination), but it was his outgoing nature and perseverance that had ultimately won you over. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only girl in the world when you were together, doting upon you, all but worshipping the ground you walked on.

But when he was sent out to work the dining area, it always made you nervous. His innate charm, his handsome features—he was nearly always a hit with female customers. No matter how much you told yourself that he was only doing his job, there was always a nagging feeling that maybe there was more to it than that. Watching him interact with a table of pretty young women, who by their clothing and demeanor were obviously far more affluent and sophisticated than you, left you distracted in your own work.

Seeing how they giggled at everything he said, how they fluttered their eyelashes when he brought them their drinks.

How the pretty blonde at the table leaned so close to him while he pointed to something on the menu, close enough to brush her hand across his.

You managed to spill a tray of drinks all over yourself while you were watching, leading to a scolding from the front of house manager. You saw the table of girls from the corner of your eye, giggling at your clumsiness before you were sent off to clean yourself up and change your uniform.

No matter how much you told yourself you were being silly, there was nothing you could do to shake it. The doubts, the thoughts of how easily he could find someone better than you. You had your jaw clenched the entire time you were changing your shirt in the staff restroom, tossing the soiled one aside as you leaned against the sink in front of the mirror and forced yourself to take slow, level breaths.

You were still on the clock. You couldn’t break down. You had to get changed, had to get back to work, had to pretend everything was fine, if he found out you were being so stupid about this then he would definitely drop you like a bad habit, you had to compose yourself or—

Knock knock.

Your eyes darted to the bathroom door, your breath catching in your throat at the sound of the light knock.

“J—just a minute,” you forced out, flinching at the sound of your own voice breaking a little.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, stop it stop it stop it—

A brief silence followed your answer, a silence that seemed to stretch on for miles despite lasting only a few seconds. The familiar, gentle voice that answered after a moment made your hands clench around the porcelain of the sink.

“You alright, love?” You drew in a sharp breath, swallowing, clenching your eyes shut. Of course it was Sanji. You had almost hoped that the manager had come scold you for taking too long. That would have been easier to deal with right now. Your eyes darted to the locked doorknob as it rattled a little. “I heard—”

“I’m fine,” you said immediately, the strained quality of your own words as they met your ears making your hands tighten a little more on the edge of the sink. “I—I just tripped and spilled a few drinks, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You gritted your teeth, laying your head back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course he wouldn’t let it go that easily. The doorknob rattled a little again, and you glanced at it as if it were a viper poised to strike out at you at any second.

Stupid, you’re being stupid, don’t—

“You sound—”

You reached out and turned the lock on the doorknob, and turned away from the door, crossing your arms over your half-buttoned shirt and stared down at your feet. After a long moment, you heard the door open behind you.

Evidently you didn’t look any less distressed than you felt. His quiet sigh met your ear as the door shut lightly and the lock turned. “Oh, love, it’s fine,” he said gently, his footfalls echoing quietly in the small bathroom, closing the short distance across the tile floor between the two of you. Your whole body tensed as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his forehead over the crown of your hair with a quiet chuckle. “It’s only a few drinks, it could happen to anyone.”

You shook your head, your shoulders shaking a little. Stupid, it was so stupid, but the words were already leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “Oh, yeah, anyone.” You couldn’t stop. You couldn’t. He had a way of pulling all your insecurities to the surface that no one else did. You pulled your crossed arms tighter, staring down at the white floor tiles for a moment before shutting your eyes tightly, your voice shaking a little. “Especially a dumb screw-up like me—”

“Don’t do that.” His tone came out a little sharper with this, and your breath hitched audibly in your throat this time, your shoulders hunching as you clenched your eyes shut tighter, swallowing back the lump in your throat. As if to counter your stiff posture, he pulled his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb rubbing lightly against your waist in a comforting manner. “Don’t, sweetheart. Please.”

The warmth of his embrace already had you relaxing a little. Your shoulders slumped, your body leaning back against him, but your eyes were still burning when you opened them to stare down at the toes of your shoes.

“Was it the manager?” he asked gently, shifting behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “If he was being an ass I’ll gladly kick his ass off the docks.” Your breath left your lungs in a slow, trembling sigh as you shook your head no, your gaze drifting down to his hand at your hip, still rubbing lightly against you, your lips curling into a fleeting smile at his offer. You knew you were being stupid, but… “Then what’s wrong, love?” he asked, his voice a soft, comforting murmur in your ear.

“I…” You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes as he tilted his head so his cheek lay against your shoulder. “Y—you—“

You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat, drawing in a deep breath, trying and failing to steady the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through your mind, thoughts of how maybe this was all a lie, of how you weren’t anything more than a silly little fling to him, how you weren’t good enough, how easily you could be replaced.

You bit your lip, glancing down as his hand found yours, watching his fingers lace between your own…and the breath left you in a slow, resigned sigh.

“It’s stupid,” you said quietly.

“If it’s got you this upset, then it’s anything but stupid,” he countered, and you had to purse your lips tightly to keep them from curving into a small smile as you felt his press briefly against your cheek in a soft kiss. “And if it’s something I’ve done—”

“N—no, you haven’t—” But how quickly you shook your head, how your shoulders tensed, betrayed your worries. “I…I just…” You slowly relaxed once more as he squeezed you against him, his cheek nuzzling against your shoulder, his soft blonde hair tickling against your neck. Still unable to turn your head to meet his eyes, you bit the bullet and forced yourself to voice your worries. “You have beautiful women making goo-goo eyes at you all day,” you said, keeping your voice low in an attempt to keep it steady. “I—I don’t—I’m not—” You bit your lip, your heart racing as you clenched your eyes shut, cursing yourself internally as you felt the tickle of a tear leaving your eye to trail down one of your cheeks. “Y-you could have any girl you wanted. L—like that blonde that was hanging all over you while you were showing her the menu, or—or—”

“Oh, sweetheart…” You weren’t quite able to mask the small sob that hitched in your chest as Sanji loosened his embrace—only to gently place a hand on your hip, guiding you to turn around and face him, to pull you against his chest as you tried and failed to fight back tears. He gently shushed your quiet sobs and stammered apologies as he wrapped his arms around you fully, combing his fingers through your hair as he laid his head over yours. Your eyes remained clenched shut as you fought to control your breathing , as he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.

Sanji lowered his head and nuzzled into your hair, holding you flush against him.

“I already have the girl I want. The perfect girl.” He pressed another tender kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “I have her right here in my arms. And I hope,” he said, his tone turning a little playful as he shifted to rest his forehead against yours, “that I’ll still have her tonight after dinner shift is over.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling as he tilted his head to meet your gaze, puling a small smile to your lips as your cheeks grew a little warmer. “So we can cuddle up together on the balcony…watch the stars…laugh at all the drunk idiots stumbling back to their boats…”

You could practically hear him smiling as a few soft giggles escaped you, as you finally leaned fully against him and returned his embrace, your arms wrapping around his torso as you buried your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, relaxing against him. “I…I’m just…”

“I know, love.” The way he called you ‘love’ all but melted your heart now that you were calmed down, pulling a faint smile to your lips. “I know. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. And if it’s any consolation, I was in the middle of telling that self-righteous blonde bimbo how my sweet, adorable, beautiful girlfriend would wring her neck if she kept putting her hands on me—“ He chuckled as you whined in protest of his praise, tugging you closer and grinning, meeting your eyes without hesitation.

He lifted his hand to your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek, the warmth of his gaze holding yours.

“I—“

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

You both jolted in alarm, your heads turning in unison toward the sound of the pounding on the bathroom door. Before you could so much as glance at each other, a gruff voice spoke up from behind the door.

“We’re in the weeds, Eggplant!” Zeff called . “Get your scrawny ass to the kitchen! And bring your damned girlfriend, we need all the help we can get.”

A long moment of silence stretched between the two of you as you both stared at the closed bathroom door, before your gazes drifted slowly toward each other.

Before you were both giggling under your breath, as you buried your forehead against his chest, a broad smile spreading across your lips as you clung to him.

“I suppose we’ve been summoned,” said Sanji, pulling back from you only enough to gaze down at you, still smiling. “Shall we, then?”

[those-late-night-feels]

Take Care of You

Summary: Steve Rogers seems to take care of everyone. But who takes care of him?

Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader; a little Loki x reader (because I can’t help it)

Warnings: smut; angst; drinking

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Actually, it's interesting…"

In all honesty, the contents of your wine glass was the most interesting thing at the table. Between the appetizer and main course, it has become apparent that this date had been a mistake. The downtown restaurant was quite popular and loud, easy to drown out the one-sided conversation from across the table about whatever was incredibly interesting. Had he even asked a question all night?

Smiling your way through dinner and dessert, he rambled on until the bill was paid and you could finally slip on your coat to leave.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," you said at the main entrance of the restaurant.

"Let me take you home." It was a statement more than a suggestion. Protesting was futile as his car pulled up from the valet and, with a sigh, you gave in.

"Thank you, again," you said as he parked his car and started to walk you towards the Towers, not taking the hint.

"Let me get you safe inside," he offered, placing a hand on the small of your back. Cringing, you gently guided his hand away and turned to face him.

"Thank you," you said all the more sternly. "I can take it from here."

He frowned, as if he had something to say, and then his eyes darted behind you for a split second before saying a quick good night and leaving. You spun on your heel to find a shadowed figure emerging, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. Steve.

You let out a breath, a little thankful, a little frustrated. Of course, one of the most emotionally unavailable bachelors in America would be your knight in shining armor. He walked up, looking between you and the man bee-lining it to his getaway vehicle. "Don't start, Rogers." You didn't need a lecture after the night you had.

His hands shot up in animated defense. "Only here if you need me."

He held the door open, waiting patiently as you strutted toward the entrance. Maybe he was emotionally unavailable, but he was still Captain America, and you'd be damned if the little dress you wore went to waste. You passed by him, imagining how confident and sexy you must appear when your heel caught on the door frame, tripping you forward. On instinct, Steve grabbed your hand and waist before you landed on your face. Adrenaline rushed through your veins for a moment, and when you turned your head, he was closer than expected. "You okay?"

"Guess I needed you after all," you laughed a little breathy, attempting to lighten the mood amidst him everywhere on you–his hands hovered on your hip and back, his chest pressed against yours, his face only inches away.

He smiled warmly, helping you upright. "Let's get you upstairs."

The glass elevator held a perfect view of the skyline, and you watched the planes above while waiting to reach the main loft. Leaning against the railing, you slipped off your heels, your feet finally rejoicing.

"Bad date?" he asked, trying to make small talk.

"I don't think he even remembered my name." He chuckled quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets. The elevator doors opened and he walked in stride with you down the hall while you gave him the play-by-play highlights of your disaster of a date. He paused when you reached the front of your bedroom door.

“I dunno,” you said with a sigh. “Somehow I just continue to attract the self-absorbed assholes. Maybe that's just the type I'm meant to be with.”

He shook his head. “Don't think that. You deserve better.”

“You really think so?”

He gave you a look like it was obvious. “Come on, you're too good of a girl to end up with someone like that.” His words made you smile, and they lingered in your mind long after you had said good night, making you wonder if anyone took care of the captain the way he took care of you.

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Pancakes and coffee. That was all you could think about in the morning, and the aromas wafting from the kitchen brought some of the team to slowly trickle out.

"So, how was the date?" Natasha asked, pouring a large cup of coffee and settling in a seat near the kitchen island. You gave her a look. "That bad?"

You turned to flip pancakes and pour more batter on the skillet. "Let's just say I'm glad Steve was there to send him on his way without a word."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Steve, who shook his head like it was nothing, but she gave him an amused look.

When you turned back around with a fresh stack of pancakes, you were faced with hungry eyes. "Alright, you guys have to share!"

Taking your share of the prepared breakfast, you settled into a chair at the island.

"So, is that a no to any future blind dates?" Natasha asked.

"That's a definite no. But I will absolutely say yes to a date with you at that new club downtown."

"Alright, alright, we'll go. Steve, what do ya' say? Wanna join us and make it a threesome?" she asked, leaning up against him.

Flustered and choking on his coffee, he turned three shades of red and shook his head. "No no, you ladies have fun."

You and Natasha sighed in unison. "Suit yourself."

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Your night out with Natasha was magical. The club was classy and modern, the kind where you'd find paparazzi hiding out. Both men and women lined up to buy you and Natasha drinks, join the VIP lounge, and dance the night away.

By the early morning hours, you had stumbled back into the loft with Natasha, giggling and shushing one another way too loudly. Natasha went to the kitchen, making a racket of noise with glasses and cupboards while you laid down on the couch, feet aching from hours of dancing. A glass shattered on the floor, followed by Natasha cursing and a very tired and irritated Captain storming out of his room.

"Seriously Nat?"

"Sorry dad," she said, attempting to pick up bits of glass from the floor. Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"Just stop, your gonna cut yourself. Go to bed, I'll take care of it."

She was stubborn, but he was firm, and soon she was scampering out of the kitchen and down the hall to her room. Steve sighed and you heard the sweeping of the broom, the metal grating of the dustpan.

When he shut off the kitchen light, you sat up from the couch. "You're good at that."

Steve turned and practically jumped, placing a hand on his heart. "Jeez, you scared me half to death!"

"Sorry," you said meekly.

"Have you been drinking too?" He didn't sound upset or accusational. More amused.

Putting your index finger and thumb close together, you scrunched up your face in guilt, making him laugh. "Alright, come on."

He offered his hand out and you took it, faltering when you stood. "I see Nat forgot how much of a lightweight you are," he joked.

"Hey," you said and smacked him on the chest. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, looking down and holding you in his arms for a moment. You felt so small in his arms and swallowed the lump in your throat before breaking the silence. "You take care of everyone."

"Is that what I'm good at?"

You nodded.

"I guess I do," he said, and in one swift movement hooked his arm under your legs, causing you to squeal while he carried you down the hall.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint light of the moon. He laid you down on the bed and sat next to you. "Need anything before I go?"

You took hold of his hand and he looked down at the touch. "Steve… Does anyone ever take care of you?"

He considered the question. "The team takes care of me when it's needed."

You shook your head. "No." And then, heart pounding in your boldness, you sat up and climbed over to straddle him. Arms wrapped around his neck and his breath grew heavy. "Does anyone take care of you…like this?"

You leaned in slowly, in case he was uncomfortable, in case you were reading it wrong, but he allowed you to kiss him, and after a moment, his lips responded, his hands slow and steady guiding up your legs, your hips, your back. He whispered your name, a question, a desire, a need.

He pulled back to look at you, a little in shock, a little in lust. Like he wanted to be good, but he also wanted you. "You're… you've been drinking."

Your head tilted to the side. Should have known–always the chivalrous one. "Steve, I want you."

Kisses trailed down his neck and across his jaw line as you spoke.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered, pulling up the end of his T-shirt until he allowed you to pull it over his head. He was torn, hesitant. He didn't allow his desires to normally take precedence over honor. But, this time, he did. Hands ran over his thick chest, his hardened abs, to play with the little grooves on his hip bones. "Sit back," you ordered, and he obediently listened, watching with want and desire while your fingers hooked into his shorts and underwear, sliding them down in one go.

His cock sprang forth from its confines, already hard and pulsing and wet from precum, and your eyes went wide at how incredibly well-endowed he was. The ladies had all speculated at how big the super soldier actually was, but you'd never imagined…

You knew then how you wanted to take care of him. With a devilish smirk you crawled up, your tongue running along the underside of his cock, never breaking eye contact. A little moan escaped him, making you want to hear the range of all his noises. Your fingers stroked at his balls as you slowly guided your tongue along his shaft, causing his breath to shutter.

His fingers ran through your hair and when you lifted your head he brushed your cheek with his thumb.

"God, you are gorgeous," he whispered. You closed your eyes and then took him full in your mouth and down your throat. The response he gave was guttural, claiming your name when you took a breath, only to go down again. In that moment, you were in control and he was yours. His breaths became faster, his moans more frequent, and you knew he wouldn't last much longer. But that was perfectly fine; you were here to take care of him.

Your mouth became hot and full of him and was swallowed down like it was nothing. It took a moment for him to catch his breath and come back down from his high and he started to ramble, from embarrassment or being unsure of what to do. You shushed him gently, curled up next to him, and grabbed his hand to wrap his arm around you.

He laid there quietly, kissed your shoulder and fell asleep in your bed. But in the morning, he was gone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You weren't surprised. Disappointed, sure. But not surprised. More than a dozen times you had reminded yourself that Steve Rogers was emotionally unavailable. But that didn't stop your drunk ass from what you did last night.

In the light of the morning, you were determined to not walk out of your room looking like some drunken whore. You'd be damned if you were someone he regretted. Extra time was taken to scrub yourself clean, brush your teeth twice, and make yourself not only presentable, but gorgeous.

Taking a breath, you walked out to the foyer. Natasha looked up from her cup of coffee, a tired smile on her face. "Sorry I bailed on you last night. I don't even remember what happened. Where did you go?"

You shook your head at her apology. "No, it's fine. I just passed out."

Natasha raised a curious eyebrow at you. "No midnight romping?"

You laughed, maybe a little too loudly. "Nothing of the sort, I can assure you."

She hummed in response. "Morning Captain."

Your eyes went big for a slight moment as he passed behind, a scent of evergreen lingering behind. "Morning," he acknowledged evenly.

Pulse starting to race, you slipped into the kitchen before Natasha could question you further. Pouring a cup of coffee (the larger, the better after the night you had), Steve walked in casually.

"Morning agent," he said, grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge.

"Hi," you said, stirring your coffee as if it was the most fascinating cup of coffee you'd ever laid eyes on.

"Sleep well?"

You raised your eyes up to meet his, a small smirk on your face. "Yes…" you said slowly. Was he playing a game with you?

Steve waited until he was sure Natasha was gone and out of earshot. Then, crossing his arms and studying the floor, he said, "Listen, I need to apologize for last night."

You blinked but kept silent, stirring your coffee and watching him. He was infuriating! Just wouldn't let you have that moment with him.

"I took advantage of the situation and should have stopped it before it went that far," he continued.

Your breaths were even through your nose, but internally you were screaming. As frustrated as you were, you knew there was no point in arguing. Once he had gotten something in his mind as fact, there was no convincing him otherwise.

Sighing, you made to leave the room. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Steve."

He grabbed your bicep as you passed by, making you pause in your tracks. "It can't happen again."

You looked from his grip on your arm to his piercing stare and bit to your lip to refrain from screaming at him.

"Got it," you choked out, and pulled away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was easier to just avoid him in the following weeks. If he hadn't made a thing of it, you could have gone back to being friendly and flirty. But he didn't make things easy

You chose the missions he wasn't on and made excuses for the ones he joined. But it was hard; you missed him, his kindness, his stories, his listening ear. He was your leader and you just felt…lost.

There was no use in regrets, but sometimes you'd wonder if you'd make a mistake and lost a friend.

It was a strangely quiet Saturday night for most of the team. After a few weeks of intense missions and undercover work, it was nice to finally have a break. The last thing you wanted was to go out to a bar or club and Natasha agreed. Giving you a look like she was up to no good, she pulled out a deck of cards and a bottle with a language you couldn't translate.

"What are you doing, Nat?" you asked with a warning tone.

"Making our own fun. We aren't a couple of spinsters. If we don't want to go out, doesn't mean we can't still have a little fun," she said with a wink.

You smiled while shaking your head. "You're the worst influence."

"No, I'm the best. Now round up whatever boys are still around."

You trailed down the hall and paused at Steve's door. Knocking, you prayed that he wouldn't answer, but the door opened before you could slip away.

"Hi," he said, crossing his arms. He appeared standoffish, but there was a kindness in his eyes.

"Hey, um, Nat is setting something up out there. Wanted everyone to join."

He raised an eyebrow. "What did she pull out from her bag of tricks this time?"

"Box of cards and a bottle of something."

"Blue label? Foreign writing?"

"Yeah." As silly as it was, you missed this–the normalcy, the casual chat, feeling comfortable with him again. There was a beat where you two locked eyes, getting lost for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something, a sorry, an I miss you, anything, but he beat you to the punch.

"I think I'm gonna stay in tonight, but… you should be careful with that bottle. Asgardian firewater isn't for the faint of heart."

He started to close the door. "Steve?"

He paused, but the words caught in your throat and you just stood there like an idiot.

"Have fun," he said, and hearing your name on his lips brought it all back. You wondered if he thought about it as much as you did.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He was right about the firewater. Natasha had poured you a shot and it burned like kerosene going down. You shuttered, turning the bottle to study its label. A hand reached out, clasping the shot glass and pulling it to the side. Your eyes followed the hand to the dark haired Asgardian prince who leaned toward you.

"Please do not tell me you drank this in a shot glass."

You smirked at him. "Blame Nat. I just do as I'm told."

Shaking his head at your naivety, Loki refrained from engaging on your comment further and slid the used shot glass to the sink, pulling a clean large glass from the cabinet.

"If you're going to drink this, you're at least going to learn how to make a proper Asgardian beverage out of it." He rolled up his sleeves, rummaging through the bar and pulling out an assortment of bottles and citrus fruit.

"You making me a drink or breakfast, Loki?"

He stood, pointing a paring knife at you. "Hush. Now come around here, you're making it yourself."

He taught you how to skin the rind off an orange without the pith, instructed you to juice a lime, showed you the measurements for the other spirits to add before pouring it over the liquor. He didn't touch you, but his close proximity somehow still made you feel warm.

"Stir it, slowly” he drawled. “The point of this isn't to rush and hit your high as fast as possible. Savor it, enjoy yourself."

He slid the glass toward you and watched as you took a sip, an eyebrow raised in a question. Your eyes widened as that first sip went down, not burning like fire, but sweet like honey. "It's good. Thank you Loki."

Satisfied, he leaned forward, palm landing on the back of your arm to whisper in your ear. "Now don't let me catch you with that shot glass again. You deserve more than just a quick fix."

You took a short breath in as you laughed nervously, something twisting deep inside. Was he…flirting with you? Your eyes darted to the side to see Steve talking to Tony, but watching you. He turned, patting Tony on the back before walking straight out the door, his jaw firmly set.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The night had been fun, playing an assortment of card games. Loki and Thor attempted to teach everyone a complicated version of Asgardian poker, which turned into peals of laughter. You wiped your eyes, both from laughing so hard and feeling exhausted, when Loki stood. "Thank you for a pleasant evening, but it is time for me to retire for the night."

You nodded and yawned on cue. "Me too. Goodnight guys."

Natasha shuffled the cards and dealt out a hand to the rest of the night owls, saying a quick good night.

You followed Loki the short distance down the hall to your separate bedrooms. "Sorry Loki, I think we're a little hopeless at learning your game."

"If my brother can master it, there is hope for you all yet. Plus," he paused, turning to you in front of your door, "it seemed like a welcome distraction for you."

You looked up at him, a little alarmed at his observation. Hadn't you been more discreet watching the front door for Steve? Apparently not.

"Oh, I…" you stuttered, but he shook his head and put a hand on your arm to reassure you.

"No need to be embarrassed, little one. I wasn't trying to pry. It was just nice to see you carefree and smiling again."

He was right, it was a nice change. You were tired of walking on eggshells and needed an attitude shift.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You couldn't sleep that night though, as tired as you were. Between Loki's flirty antics and Steve's frustrating behavior, your mind was swimming and needed to be cleared. After tossing and turning, the blankets were finally ripped off and gym clothes slipped on, deciding a quick workout would help.

Earpods turned on, you entered the gym and started up the treadmill. A mile in and sweat starting to drip, a resounding boom caused you to pull out your earbuds. Pausing on the edge of the treadmill, you pulled out an earbud to listen, a rhythmic pattern of beats down the hall. That was odd, you thought you'd be alone at this hour.

"Hello?" you called out, wiping the sweat from your forehead and chest and following the sound. You opened the door to an open studio used for combat practice and paused in the doorway. On the opposite side of the room, Steve focused on a punching bag, his back muscles rippling and contracting within a tight T-shirt. Standing mesmerized, you watched as he worked the bag until one final blow busted it off the hook and he went to grab a new one.

His eyes turned up and locked on yours, startling you out of your trance. "Sorry. I…" you fumbled at your words.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

You shook your head. "Came down here to clear my head."

"Yeah," he said, hooking the bag on with one arm. "I've been trying to do that for a while now."

"Well, I'll let you get back to it." You made your way toward the door. Halfway through the door frame, he said your name, staring at the bag, making you pause. "I haven't… I haven't been able to sleep for a while. I can't stop thinking about that night."

You almost didn't hear him, almost asked him to repeat himself. When he turned to look at you, you were like a deer caught in headlights. Too afraid to move or look away.

"I know that I shouldn't. And I tried to stop myself, tried to push you away and ignore you. My focus should be on the team and our missions. That's why I told you it couldn't happen again."

He unwrapped the boxing tape from his hands, walking toward you.

"But I can't get you out of my head. You're all I can think about."

You ignored the pounding of your heart and the tingling in your core. He was so close to you now, and you were furious. How dare he say all this after how he treated you! You wanted to slap him, yell at him, anything to show him how much pain and frustration he had caused you. But then, his next words cut to your core: "I'm so sorry. I miss you."

His blue eyes searched your own, no doubt looking for a sign that you would forgive him. He hesitantly raised a hand slowly up to your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, melting your resolve and angry exterior with the swipe of his hand. Who were you kidding? You missed him too.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sun was creeping up along the horizon when your eyes opened. Your bed was warm and cozy and your arm clutched onto the arm wrapped around your body.

You turned slightly, Steve still asleep and breathing steadily. The man was probably exhausted from his lack of sleep the last few weeks. It didn't help that you both stayed up late the night before as well.

He had walked you back to your room after your encounter in the gym, stood outside your door to wish you good night like the gentleman he was trying to be. No, he was a gentleman, he reminded himself; only you had ignited something inside him that he was fighting hard to resist. You gripped onto the edge of his T-shirt and pulled him into the room with a coy smile that he reciprocated.

Neither knew what to do, and you didn't want him to feel like you were expecting him to reciprocate for the prior night together. After keeping your distance from him for weeks, you just knew that you wanted to be near him again.

"For the record, I missed you too Steve." You grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one across the room to him.

He downed half the bottle before recapping it. "I'm not very good at this. I've spent too long focused only on whatever the mission is and not anything else."

"This," you said, gesturing between the two of you, "can be whatever we want it to be. I just know that I want you back in my life. However you want that to be."

He nodded, taking in your words. Then stood and walked over to you leaning against the dresser. His blue eyes looked down to yours and you could feel your heart instantly picking up pace. He could probably hear what he was doing to you by the uptick of your pulse, but didn't let on. "However I want?"

You nodded, words lost to you. Even though you had had him once before, he still made your nerves twist. He leaned down and kissed you then, and it felt like you both let go of a breath that was held for far too long.

When he pulled away, you almost whined, wanting more.

"Let's start by taking care of you," he said, and gripped your ass to sit you on the dresser.

With easier access, he trailed kisses down your neck, body shivering in response. He pulled you into him and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Lifting you up, he carried you easily to your bed and gently set you down, hovering over you.

“What do you want?” he asked, and you knew that his question was meant for more than just pleasure.

You hooked your finger into the hem of his t-shirt, bringing his lips to yours. A girl could get used to those soft lip caresses. The warmth of his hand traveled underneath your shirt, up your ribcage to the curve of your breast, and you gasped as his fingertips circled your nipple. He pulled his lips back from yours to watch the expression on your face, and with a little hesitancy, you told him, “I want to be yours.”

It was like you had lighted a fire within him with your words, and he engulfed you in flames. Your leggings were removed, his lips trailing kisses lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, finding solace in your warm folds. His tongue was like a flint, unyielding until sparks flew. Without mercy, he gripped onto your thighs, making you rise higher and higher. You gripped onto his hair, moaning his name at a higher octave until you fell into bliss, and were cradled in his arms.

There was no telling what would become of you and him, but for the moment, you would take care of each other.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

I'm Always Funny. You're Just Not Smart Enough To Keep Up. (Teaser!)

Max Verstappen X reader

Danny Ricciardo X reader platonic.

Not sure if anyone here is an F1 fan but I've recently gotten into F1 and I've started writing a small fanfiction of Max Verstappen Fake relationship Au! Please tell me if you like this and want the rest of it! Enjoy~

Max had just broken up with his long time girlfriend Kelly Piquet. 

They had disagreed on their future plans and had decided it would be better to part ways. It was an amicable split and Max still visited Penelope. However, the media wasn’t kind to him, not that it usually was.

Fans were in a roar over the split calling him all sorts of names for the past seven months.

It wasn’t too bad until the sponsors started to look a bit concerned over the state of the media.

Y/N, being a small town girl from Perth Australia, knew Daniel Ricciardo from when she was younger. His sister Michelle would babysit Y/N from time to time and that's how she came to meet the ever enthusiastic personality that was Daniel.

Daniel, alongside Michelle, had been like an older sibling to Y/N. He would always visit her or text her to catch her up on his state of affairs. 

After his ill-fated departure from Mclaren, to which Y/N was still fuming over. He had spent two months back in Australia, lounging around before Y/N and Michelle told him to get back into what he really loved.

Sure enough, Daniel returned to RedBull as a reserve driver alongside his old teammate Max Verstappeh and Sergio “Checo” Perez.

It was at this point Max had been receiving scalding comments and the Public Relations (PR) Manager had decided it would be a good idea for Max to date someone new with good media presence. Someone who the fans were bound to like.

That is exactly where Y/N came in. She had been featured on Daniel's social media before and made small cameo’s on RedBull and Mclaren videos, wishing Danny luck in his races or even supporting him in person.  

~~~~~~

Max walked alongside Y/N at a brisk pace. They were wading through the crowd of press just before the paddock and after the car park. Y/N was slightly uncomfortable with the firm grip that Max had on her hand but refrained from speaking up. He, after all, was paying her salary, so to speak. 

“Smile,” Max grunted out. Nodding at the press and giving half smiles in a seemingly out of character style. 

Y/N, who was already smiling hissed through her teeth.

“The hell you think I'm doin’ mate?” She then turned slightly away to wave at the photographers,

“Morning! Hope you’re all well rested! Make sure to drink enough water too!” She called out to the mass of people. Y/N understood that these people had to make a living and if you were nicer to them, they were bound to return the favour, although that was easier said than done.

Verstappen kept a pleasant expression as he continued to walk past people, signing hats along the way. 

“When can we stop this damn circus act?” He hissed into her ear, his voice sounding like the grind of gravel. 

“Whenever your PR Manager lets us.” She replied, her smile unfaltering as she kept walking beside him.

“This is all a stupid waste of money and time.” He grumbled under his breath. “This whole relationship thing and the sponsors.” Y/N cocked her head knowingly and replied,

"You need those sponsors and so does RedBull. Anyways, don’t give me a hard time because of it, yeah? I’m just doing my job to the best of my ability.” It wasn't as if she didn't want the money, however she also did it to help out Danny. Apparently the situation had made Max a little crabby.

Max sighed, “You have no idea who many different people we have to play happy couple for to satisfy the sponsors.” to which Y/N smirked and retorted with.

“I dunno, maybe the whole world, Mr Formula 1 World Champion?” Max rolled his eyes dismissively, effectively losing his facade.

“Do you know how much the sponsors pay me to keep you around? Don’t smart mouth me man.” He spat out, scowling and crossing his arms defensively. He pointed at the camera’s who had now turned back to you at the suddenly escalating conversation as moths were drawn to light.

Luckily they hadn’t heard the conversation, only seen the wild gestures that Max had thrown out in exasperation. 

Y/N, being the quick thinker she was, gently patted his shoulder and stepped closer to him,

“Calm down mate, they’re looking at us. Let’s just get inside the paddock yeah? Then we can argue when we get to the motor home.” She whispered slowly, hoping to ease his stress.

“Whatever, " Verstappen muttered, his voice ever harsh and monotonous.

He led her by the small of her back past the photographers and past the gates and into the paddock. He kept you firmly by his side while remaining silent. It seemed like he wasn’t going to talk until they were both tucked into a private building. Or as private as it would get.

As they briskly walked by, they passed some children who were staring in awe at Max. Y/N smiled at the children and tugged on his short sleeve gently.

“Max, give them an autograph! Look, they're so cute. This one’s wearing a mini version of your race suit!” She exclaimed, clearly taken by the children who were bubbling with energy.

Max, as a result of Y/N’s excitement, stopped walking and looked over at her with his signature grim expression before seeing the children. His eyes shifted and his expression became light hearted and almost charming.

“Yeah, alright I’ll sign a few things for you guys.” He grinned at the kids that had gathered around began thanking him incredulously in adoration as their favourite Formula one driver signed their shirts and caps.

Max suddenly turned to Y/N with a small smile,

“Here,” he said, handing her a sharpie, “You should sign one too. They’ll like it.” Y/N shook her head, shy from the sudden attention. 

“But I’m not famous like you. They don’t know me.” She turned to the children, sheepish, waiting for them to collectively agree. Yet, to her surprise one of the younger girls reached out to hug her and exclaimed,

“I know you! You’re Max’s girlfriend! My older brother says you’re pretty!” The little girl beamed up at her and pointed at an older male of similar facial structure who was blushing.

Y/N laughed in surprise and smiled brightly at the young girl.

“Hey love! Would you like me to sign your shirt?” She kneeled down to face the girl and all the younger kids. The children that were now surrounding you went crazy, screaming “Yes!” and “Please!”

They held out their belongings for her to sign, clearly overjoyed. She laughed in delight while Max looked on, while chatting to other young fans.

Y/N gave each of them a hug before signing their shirts.

“Oh and here!” She took out a large ziplock bag that was filled to the brim with friendship bracelets she had made for the fans.

“Take these! There’s enough for all of you.” She ruffled the closest childs hair. Max watched in amusement as the children who were absolutely beside themselves, trying on their new bracelets.

“You’re good with the fans,” he said, actually sounding genuine and kind for once. Y/N shook her head, smiling and waving at the children still as they walked away.

“Nah, I just love the kids. I want them to have good memories that build into hope and motivation.” She looked at Max and gave him a small smile.

“That’s very kind of you.” Verstappen replied, sounding surprisingly sincere. They both walked towards the motorhouse and as they reached the entrance Max opened the door for Y/N and signalled for her to enter.

Y/N walked through, thanking him on the way and waved hello while passing all the staff and volunteers of the Red Bull team.

The pair made their way, through all the greetings and then into Max’s room where Max closed the door behind them both and then turned to face Y/N.

“Alright, no more fake smiles or pleasantries. He sighed, “Do you know how long we’re stuck with this whole fake relationship thing?” He asked while plopping down onto his bed, unceremoniously to which Y/N shook her head. She herself was unsure.

“Nope. I was hired for a year-long contract but it wasn’t definitive,” She sighed and sat down on his chair and spun to face him.

“I think it wouldn’t be too bad for us to be friends Max.” She sat forward with her elbows on her knees.

“It’s not like we’re attracted to each other. It would make life easier if we got along, no?" Max stared at her, inquisitive.

“Friends.” He said slowly, almost as if tasting the word before he tilted his head to say,

“Friends don't usually get paid to be with one another.” Max raised his eyebrows.

“But, I guess being friends wouldn't be too bad. It’s not like anything would happen between us anyways.” Y/N nodded and chuckled, 

“I mean, I get paid to pretend to be your girlfriend. We could totally do it from afar y’know?” she shrugged, smiling.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Max said sarcastically. 

“I’ll just yell ‘I love you’ through a megaphone at you from a distance and we’ll keep it going that way.” He smirked mischievously, crossing his arms to which Y/N burst into laughter in sheer surprise. 

“Right! That would get all the fans roaring.” She chuckled loudly, enjoying his dry humour.  She gave him a genuine smile before asking, 

“You’re really funny when you want to be huh?”

Verstappen rolled his eyes with a subtle upturn in lips at your amusement. Y/N had an instinct that he was proud of the reaction he got out of her.

“I’m funny all the time.” He retorted, “You’re just not smart enough to pick up on it.” He said with a cocky smile.

 

~~

AND THATS THE TEASER! please comment if you'd like the rest!? Thank You for reading!

[lexsssu]

Soft (Vergil)

TAGS: Vergil/Dragoness!reader, smut, breeding, pregnancy, heats/ruts, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Moooooommm, my hair’s already okay as it is. You don’t have to keep grooming it!”

��Hush, darling. Mother knows best and if I say that your hair needs to be groomed then it means that it needs to be groomed. Now, stay still and let Mama fix you up~”

Nero grumbled and pouted, but simply allowed himself to become limp in your grasp as you combed his snowy locks for him, a bright red blush lighting up his cheeks that were yet another feature he’d inherited from his father. To be honest, Nero took mostly after Vergil in terms of looks, but he was definitely more expressive than your mate.

“...’m not a lil kid anymore…”

“Regardless of how old you are, you will always be a child in my eyes, Nero. I bore you into this world with my body and nothing can ever change the bond between a mother and her child” You smile and nuzzle the top of the young man’s head, inhaling his scent while bathing him in your own, draconic instincts, particularly your maternal ones, overflowing as you carried another babe within your belly. 

“...Just let your mother be, Nero. Once your new sibling is born she won’t be babying you anymore,” said Vergil eloquently as he sat on his favorite armchair, reading through a well-worn poetry book and looking like painting straight out of a Victorian-era portrait.

“Your father is just teasing you. You’ll always be Mama’s darling boy~” You giggle and place a kiss on your son’s forehead, watching gleefully as his cheeks turn an even deeper red from your affections.

Though seemingly minding his own business, Vergil always had his eye on you both even as he read the ever so familiar words upon the inked pages. There is a softness in the blue of his eyes that is hidden from the world outside of your cozy little home. 

A softness that is reserved only for you, his mate, and all your offspring...and maybe Dante when the devil hunter wasn’t being an absolute insufferable moron.

It’s amazing how meeting you had allowed him to see the world in a different light. To rediscover parts of himself that he’d long thought to have died off on the night his entire life had changed forever and molded him into a man fraught with only the ambition for power.

He could still remember that moment so clearly, as if it happened just yesterday...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you need some help? You looked like you had quite the fall from so high up…”

The eldest son of Sparda blinked, a rare look of incredulity on his normally impassive face as he stared at the small hand being held out to him and the young woman who owned it. 

Mundus’ grotesque form lay upon the blood red ground, a mass of flesh with hundreds of hands sticking out of him that would have struck fear in the hearts of most living and undead creatures. However, the Prince of Darkness was obviously deceased as he lay immobile, gaping wounds and terrible gashes littering his foul body as if his opponent had just tore through him without mercy.

“...Do you know that thing? It kept yapping ever since I dropped in here kinda like how you did and well...I just wasn’t really in the mood to deal with the monologues so I took him out of his misery,” you chuckle at the young man’s astonished expression, quite liking how expressive his reactions were despite having only just met him.

“So ummm...do you wanna go to the throne room with me? That thing’s lackeys said that I should sit on the throne to make my rule as their new boss ‘official’ and well, I dunno about you but any place is better than kneeling on the wet ground”

Still flustered with the turn of events, Vergil could only wordlessly nod and before he could get up on his own, you grasp his free hand and pull him up with surprising strength.

“Great! Since you’re new here too, we both can get a tour of the place!”

The katana-wielder would have normally pulled his hand back by now in disgust and or disdain, but strangely enough he didn’t mind how your utterly warm and soft hand clutched his own. Your hand is so small that he could easily cover it if he took the initiative to do so, but he found himself both reluctant to move and content with...whatever this was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, please...fuck me open. Mate me. Breed me…!” You whine and whimper as you sway your hips tantalizingly, looking back at Vergil who’d activated his Sin Devil Trigger form with complete want and adoration. Everything about his current form aroused your most primal side, wanting nothing more than to have him fuck you until were bow-legged and undeniably swollen with his potent seed.

Though he couldn’t speak up in this form, the low grunts and the way his scaled hands took handfuls of your backside as he pressed his equally demonic-looking cock into your weeping slit had you keening and sighing as he sunk its entire length in one thrust. 

As Vergil had his way with your equally enthusiastic self, you couldn’t help but smile stupidly as thoughts of the future filled your mind. Specifically, the pitter-patter of little feet that would undeniably become an absolute reality soon enough, especially as you feel the base of your mate’s cock inflating in order to lock himself inside your willing cunt.

You always did like the name Nero...