#kidnap Kingpin

[notherpuppet]

Hmm what if a moonlighting hitman 🦌 kidnapped a baby-faced kingpin 🍎 ??

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight pound baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of royalty that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[nelo0wesker]

Who is she?

Relationship: Armando Aretas X Reader

Tagging: @nobodygetsza

——————

Dorn is tirelessly working on tracking down the elusive drug kingpin, who has managed to stay one step ahead at every turn. The breakthrough comes when the kingpin makes a critical error kidnapping a girl Dorn had been keeping track of because the kingpin's underlings seemed to always be around her area.

“Hey guys I got a hit!” Dorn yells out to the others. The others go to the computer. Dorn plays the video of the women being kidnapped and put in a car. License plate being showed in the video. “Dorn track those plates” Mike says watching the video ends with the car driving away. Dorn nods and goes to track the car plates looking to where it goes in security cameras that are on the streets.

Armando watches Dorn work on the computer as he turns his head seeing his girlfriend being kidnapped in the video. He knows she’s alright. That girl was tough and knew how to defend herself. He remembers how she beat his ass once. They were on enemy sides at the time but in the end he won her heart and she betrayed her family to date him.

—-

“Got it” Dorn says, showing everyone the warehouse they took the women too. “We have to get there fast. Who knows what those men have done to that girl” Marcus says with disgust thinking of all the horrible outcomes that could happen if they don’t get there fast enough.

Mike nodded at what Marcus said looking at Armando for a quick second. He noticed how his son couldn’t seem to stop looking at the women that were kidnapped. He has a suspicion he knows her but Mike didn’t question his son about it. He’ll question him when they get the girl out of there and home.

“Alright lady and gentlemen there’s a girl that needs saving. We have to do this fast and quickly” Mike tells out and everyone nods their heads as Armando smirks thinking how you didn't really need saving. If anyone needs saving it’s that kingpin and his underlings.

Everyone grabs their vest and weapons and goes into the car driving to the warehouse

—-

Outside of the warehouse team AMMO could hear multiple gunshots, yelling, and fighting. Marcus and Mike look at eachother confused. Actually everyone was confused about what was going on. Armando just smirks as he goes to the warehouse with the rest of team AMMO behind him and goes into the warehouse just to witness you beating the shit out of some of the kingpin underlings.

Marcus and Mike gave a shock look watching how you effortlessly took out 6 of the kingpins underlings with just hands. You swiftly grab a gun from the enemies belt and shoot the others with persistent aim.

“Who the hell is this girl?!” Marcus says shocked watching you specifically take out everyone. Everyone else was questioning the same thing as Marcus except Armando.

You sigh as you drop the last enemy thinking how it wasn’t really a fight. You turn and smiles brightly seeing Armando and goes to him and hugs him tightly. “Armand!” She yells out and kisses him on the lips.

Mike looks at his son confused and shocked just like everyone else. Armando smiles and turns to his father and team AMMO. “Oh her. This is Y/N. My girlfriend” he says casually

“You're what!?” Everyone yells in shock. “Where the hell did you find her?” Marcus asked him. Armando thinks on what he’s going to say as he looks down at you seeing the smirk you had. “That’s a long story” he tells him. “Tell me I got time!” Marcus says following Armando as he walks out with you. “Armando tell us you got some explaining to do!” Mike yells chasing his son and you wonder how the hell yall met.

Kelly, Rita, and Dorn watch the four walk ahead still in shock. “Anyone know he had a girlfriend?” Dorn asks the two women next to him watching how Marcus and Mike chase you and Armando. Rita shakes her head no. “Nope,” Kelly says, popping the p. “Any guesses how he met her?” Rita asks the two. Dorn and Kelly look at each other then Rita. “Have no idea. But Armando has the story” Dorn says and goes to follow the four ahead of them. Hearing the yelling of Mike and Marcus demanding an explanation and watching how you and Armando ignoring the two talking to each other.

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 5

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warnings: canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: lol i updated this. it’s a little bit of a date and a—oh, what’s this—new conflict? hehe. (is this enemies to lovers? it’s a little enemies to lovers.)

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

part 4

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

You take a few steps past Bucky, turn around, and walk back to the table. You stop right beside Bucky and hold out your hand. Bucky looks at your hand outstretched to him and trails his eyes up to you, and you watch as he carefully searches your face.

“Hi,” you say, smiling. “I’m Y/N. Mind if I join you for dinner?”

Bucky’s face breaks out into a grin as he takes your hand, grasping it firmly as he shakes it. “Bucky,” he greets, playing along. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

—

“So, yeah. Maybe it was mean, but she deserved it,” you say, finishing a story about Ellie stealing your toys and you locking her in your closet for an hour as children. You take a sip of your wine as Bucky lets out a mirthful laugh.

“That’s brutal, Doll,” he teases you with a grin. You shrug.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Mob Boss,” you tease him back. A thoughtful look crosses your face. “By the way, how did you become this kingpin of Brooklyn anyhow?”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Firstly, let’s avoid the term “kingpin.” Wilson Fisk has taken to the name, and I have no intention of taking that from him. His title and Hell’s Kitchen is his.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, but you nod slowly in understanding. There is, you realize, more politics to the mafia than you’d previously considered.

“But, to answer your question, I was born into it. My father was head of our family and in this business for years, his father years before that. It was always their intention for me to take over when I was old enough, and they, ah, groomed me for the job.”

You frown. “That’s terribly sad.”

Bucky shrugs.

“Did you ever want to be anything different? Like, when you were a kid?”

“No, I never really thought about it.”

“Really?” You challenge. “You never wanted to be an astronaut, or a firefighter, or president? Oh! Or a police officer? That would’ve been ironic!”

Bucky offers you a sad smile but shakes his head. “No, I always wanted to take over for my father. It’s what he wanted, so it’s what I wanted.”

You frown. “You don’t see how sad that is?”

“I do.”

“If you had a child, would you bring them up the same way?” You purse your lips and feel your heart rate quicken. His potential answer scares you (like you might see a future with him? Wait! Stop it!).

“No. Of course not. All of this,” he gestures vaguely, “would be unfair to push onto a child. If I have children, I will make sure they have every opportunity to be whatever they want.”

“Even if it’s a police officer hellbent on taking down the mafia?”

“Even a police officer hellbent on taking down the mafia,” he agrees with a smirk. You giggle.

“What about you?” He asks. “What did you want to be when you were little?”

You feel your cheeks heat up as a blush takes over your face.

“Um,” you stutter. “Promise not to laugh?”

Bucky pulls a face. “Why? Is it embarrassing? Did you want to be a nun? Or did you want to be a super spy who kidnapped the head of the Brooklyn mob?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Okay, fine,” he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. I promise.”

“I wanted to be…” you trail off, mumbling the end. Bucky leans forward, holding his hand up to his ear.

“What was that? I missed the end there.”

“I wanted to be a princessastronautpresident,” you say quickly this time, letting your words blend together.

“What?” Bucky asks again, but he’s smirking now and you suspect he heard you.

“I wanted to be a princess astronaut president, okay? Happy now?” You ask, reaching for your wine only to find you’d already drank it all. You frown. Bucky laughs.

“That career covers two different forms of government… in space?” He half states, half questions. You simply nod.

“And what about it? At least it’s legal,” you challenge. Again, Bucky’s hands go up next to his head in surrender.

“Well?” He asks.

“‘Well’ what?”

“Did you become a princess astronaut president?”

“No,” you say, dead serious. “I lost the election on Mars. I’m going to try Jupiter next time, though.”

Bucky laughs once more: you note he’s been laughing a lot throughout your date.

“So what do you do?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know everything about you.”

“I thought you would have looked me up.”

“Maybe you intrigue me enough I want to learn about you naturally.”

“I’m an investigative journalist.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks genuinely surprised.

“Really? That’s all?”

You quirk your head. “Yes?”

“Sorry. I just thought with your… erm—skill set—you were a Green Beret, or something.”

“You flatter me, Barnes, but all I did was hit you really hard in the head with a gun I bought scarily easily at a department store I buy my groceries and drag you to a building that’s been on the market for years. Nothing about that was exactly special ops.”

He hums and finishes his own wine.

“Doesn’t explain your interrogation skills.”

“I’m a journalist. I interview people for a living—particularly people who don’t necessarily want to be interviewed.”

“How’d you know where to find me?”

“I didn’t. You were an accident, remember?”

“You wound me,” he says. You shrug.

“Even so,” he continues, “you knew about my bar. You knew it was connected to the mafia—your sister’s disappearance. How?”

“Is this a date or an interrogation, James?”

“Professional curiosity.”

Irritated, you respond. “Still, I am a journalist. I knew about the connection because I had a good hunch. I’d been working on a piece that led me to the bar; I smelt a connection. Or, I hoped there was one.”

Bucky leans back in his seat, his blue eyes piercing your person. You shift uncomfortably. He seems to accept your response, though, but the subject is far from dropped.

“What’s your piece about?”

“Nothing.”

“Clearly it’s something.”

“You can read all about it when it’s published.”

“Why so defensive? Is it about me?”

“You flatter yourself, Barnes.”

He shrugs. You sigh.

“I received an anonymous tip not too long ago that the mafia was picking up promising prodigy students. 4 or 5 have gone missing in the last 6 months, and my tip told me they may be hanging around your bar.”

Bucky’s face is stoic, and you feel yourself become suspicious of the well dressed, charming criminal in front of you.

“I connected the dots between the situation and the location: the mafia. When Ellie went missing, too? Well, she didn’t quite meet the M.O., sure, but it was all I had to go off of.” You shrug.

“You think I’m kidnapping university students?”

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you… uh. Made them an offer they couldn’t refuse?”

“The Godfather? Really? A little on the nose, no?”

“Look, James. I was doing my job.”

“Where did the tip come from?”

“I don’t know. It was anonymous. Are you done interrogating me now?” Your tone becomes irritable, and you cringe slightly at the bite behind your words.

Bucky sighs, “Yes. Sorry. This evening has been lovely; I’m sorry for ruining it. I’ll take you home?”

You purse your lips and nod.

The two of you stand and gather your belongings before walking back through security where your weapons are returned to you. Bucky then escorts you to the car and drives you home.

After he walks you to the door, Bucky stops and looks at you, hands gently falling to your shoulders.

“Y/N, look. I’m sorry for the first degree; I really did have a good time tonight. I hope you’ll consider doing this again.” Bucky’s voice leaks sincerity, his eyes promise it.

You smile somewhat sadly and it doesn’t reach your eyes. “We’ll see, James.”

He nods. “I understand.” He pulls out a business card with nothing but a phone number on it and hands it to you. “My personal cell,” he explains. “If you reach out, we’ll do this again. If not, I’ll take the hint.”

You nod slightly as he leans forward and pecks your cheek. It’s soft, barely a whisper of a kiss. Then, he turns and returns to his car, driving off. You watch until you can’t see his car anymore. Finally, you turn to your door and fumble around with the key.

You turn the lock and hear your deadbolt unlock right as you hear a whoosh next to your ear, your eyes drift to the side where, stuck in the wood of your doorframe, is an arrow with a note tied to it. Carefully, anxiously, you pull the arrow out and unroll the note. You nearly choke on air when you read it:

I left the tip because Barnes messed with what was mine. Best not get cozy with the beast, sweetheart. I’d hate to think I mistrusted you—underestimated your usefulness.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis @onceithough @thedonswife13 @kaithesimps-blog @buckitostan @julvrs @unaxv @searchn0tfound @10ava01 @ordelixx @pinkpantheris @hi-im-fan-trash @bubblegumbeautyqueen

[thejollywriter]

IT'S TIME TO LAUNCH THE BOOK

WELCOME FRIENDS, TO THE BEGINNING OF AN ADVENTURE! Allow me to introduce to you, DELILAH JONES; free-lance Robin Hood and bad-ass extraordinaire.

In the cyberpunk future of The Redwood Files, Delilah Jones is half film-noire private detective, and half western-gunslinger, who rides into a lawless town and fights the bullies and the bastards that hurt innocent folks.

This anthology contains SIX, count 'em SIX short stories and novellas detailing Delilah's Adventures.

Through a Dream, Lethally; When tech CEO Michael Lense decides to hijack the soft-RAM in his employees heads in order to make people do his bidding, things can get awful, FAST. Being forced, without your consent, to be an assassin or a thief or a sex worker, and more. But Lense also has the city under-thumb. Only Delilah's got the brute force to break Lense's control, and free the city from his cruel influence.

Happy Endings, Guaranteed; Delilah has a partner, and after a long day of nonsense, is looking forward to visiting them at work to unwind. Only to get to the club where her partner works, and discover that they've been KIDNAPPED! Delilah races around the city, squaring up with every underworld hard-ass she comes across following every lead to find her partner. Except nothing is what it seems, and a simple (but tragic) kidnapping turns out to be way more nefarious than Delilah expected. . .

Delilah's Heart; recovering from the last adventure weeks later, Delilah meets a handsome butch at a dive bar. Things between the two show promise, but the butch gets called back to work by an abusive bastard who violates and exploits his employees. The butch asks Delilah for help, and as she digs into it, discovers a deeply connected mafia bookmaker who uses that underground protection to kill and exploit people without fear of consequences. Delilah's the only one who can bring justice down on this bastard, but it threatens a gang war if she does. . .

Gutter Medicine; a gang of outta-town skinheads robs an impoverished clinic in a rough neighborhood. Delilah digs into the theft, and promises to recover the medicine, only to discover that the outta-towners are stirring up trouble to pave the way for an invasion from the South. A Kingpin from Los Angeles is hungry for expansion, and Redwood is fertile ground. Unless Delilah can stop the gang, and convince the Kingpin it'd be too expensive to expand beyond the safe borders of LA.

Restitution; Delilah's robbing a rich billionaire's museum-like mansion one night when she's caught by an unlikely sentry, a very old man who'd had plans of trying to embarrass the billionaire for reneging on a deal, and leaving the old man destitute. Delilah invites him to tell his story, and she volunteers to see justice done, according to Delilah's exacting standards.

In a Name?; every trans person's name comes from a personal place and an intimate choice. This story is about a young thief, with big dreams and a hard head, how she picked her name, and the day she was reborn into Delilah-fucking-Jones.

These stories have literally been years in the making. Some of them are personal, all of them are personal favorites, and this anthology is a collection I've worked very hard on.

Genre fiction is deeply important to me, and I love bringing queer characters to this space. Every story published in this book appeared first, both as ideas and in rough-and-final drafts on my patreon.

HERE'S HOW TO BUY AND SUPPORT THE QUEER NOVELIST IN QUESTION!

my ko-fi store: this is the most direct way to support me (a disabled queer novelist) and I get the biggest cut if you buy the e-book from this source

AMAZON! you want a paperback, YOU GOT A PAPERBACK

and lastly, if you want to see my writing in advance, get your name in the credits, or get special copies in advance, my patreon

thank you for your support, and happy reading <3

[softsan]

˚ 🥀⊹ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄. (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)

✉️ ・ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

✉️ ・ ── 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

✉️ ・ ── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Taeyong, Queenpin!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Childhood friends, Betrayal, Enemies to lovers, Eventual Smut. ✉️ ・ ── 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:  You were the only surviving heir of the old-time Mafia kingpin that had ruled the four territories. You were long thought to be dead, living the normal life you had always wanted...Until you run into a Taeyong, a formidable ghost from your past. You are then thrown back into the Mafia underbelly, reuniting with enemies you had hoped had forgotten you. Will you run away? Will you stand beside Taeyong, kingpin of the North, and be his queen? Or will you take your rightful revenge.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Possessive Themes, Future Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Kidnapping, Strangulation, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

Past. 

You felt all the air leave your lungs, your chest constricting as you tried to gasp for just one more breath. You heard the patter of your blood as it hit the hardwood floors.

“Y/N,” His desperate eyes plead. 

“What did you do to her?!” Your brother demanded, yanking against the chains that were secured around his wrists. 

“Good catch Taeyong!” One of your captors clapped his hand on Taeyong’s back.

You tried to lift your shoulders, but they refused to support the weight of your head. You were but a lifeless heap, carelessly discarded and left to slowly bleed out on the ground. The man’s sickening laughter echoed throughout the room, filling what was left of your heart with dread.  

“Do it,” His voice urged, “Kill her now.”

Present.

“Today will be different,” You stared at yourself in the mirror, “Today I will smile, and I’ll mean it.” Your eyes circled down to your neck, your confidence waning. 

“Come on!” Your roommate urged, “You can say it better than that.” 

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, “You make me say the same thing at the start of every semester.”

Your roommate clicked her tongue, looking up from her phone. “And I believe this semester is going to be fucking fantastic.” She pointed at your white dress that cut just above the knees. “Look, we’re both looking cuter than ever. We have a new apartment,” She pointed to the living room’s ceiling to exaggerate her point. “This is our second year at college, and you, my friend, are going to put yourself out there.”

You shook your head in dread. “I thought we agreed that in this household, you can be the party fiend, and I’ll be the one that spends her nights binging TV shows on Netflix.”

Your roommate Jen threw you a dirty look.

“Hey! Who else is going to keep the universe in balance.”

Your roommate rolled her eyes. “The world is not going to stop spinning on its axis if you go out once in a while.”

“I highly doubt that.” You mutter to yourself, earning a playful hit from your dear roommate.

You and your roommate Jennifer had been cohabitating with one another since you were both seventeen. Back then, it had been a struggle to find someone willing to share a space with a teenager. That coupled with the awful reputation your foster father and sister had garner for themselves, you weren’t exactly considered an ideal house mate. However, to your pleasant surprise Jen was equally in need of someone to cover half of her rent. 

You had somewhat known about Jen prior to living with her. She had been quite popular at your school, the social butterfly. Admittedly, you were a little suprised to hear she like you, had moved out on her own, yet you never pried. 

Despite, her cheerful demeanor, you sensed a sadness akin to your own. You were both content pretending the other didn’t have secrets they’d buried deep inside their pasts. 

The day had been too long, and the sight of a setting sun was a welcome one. A picturesque scene of pink and oranges painted the skies which backdropped Taeyong’s beloved city. 

“Let’s get a drink to cool down,” Johnny piped, securing his gun back in his trousers.

Mark looked over disapprovingly, “You know you should really invest in a holster.”

“Not a chance!” Johnny grinned, “Taeil will flip if I make another extravagant purchase this month.” 

Taeyong slightly shook his head, half-heartedly smiling. Taeil, his consigliere had only gotten on Johnny’s case after he bought two restaurants and three record stores on a whim. Johnny simply was dead set on never purchasing himself a holster.  

Mark discerning Johnny’s lame excuse, decided to play along, “If you’re tight on money, why don’t we drink at the crappy-looking place.” He pointed to a shabby, bar with rusted molding at the end of the street. 

Taeyong grimaced, he didn’t like spending too much time in disputed territory. The street they were standing on fell in a grey area, both claimed by him, the King of the North, and the terrible Black Crow of the West. 

“We should head back closer to base,” Renjun cut in, noticing Taeyong’s hesitancy.  

Taeyong had his own bars and hotels where he could drink and dine with complete ease. He saw no need to do so here. 

“Let’s do it,” Johnny exclaimed, pulling a protesting Renjun into a friendly headlock.

“It’ll be fine,” Mark reassured, nudging Taeyong’s shoulder. “Nobody’s that stupid to take on all four of us.”

“I’m here! I’m here!” You breathlessly apologized to your manager, reaching for a bar apron.

“It’s fine,” He assured, handing you a docket, “First day back?” 

You nodded, trying to catch your breath “It’s the first day, and I feel like I’m already behind on all of my classes.” 

“Well, tonight should be pretty standard for a weekday.” He commented, his eyes scanning the empty tables, “I’ll be up upstairs talking to a supplier but, give me a wave if you need me.” 

“Will do.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to be working the bar alone.

The 'Old Sand Bucket' where you worked was certainly past its prime. Its interior was outdated, half of the bar stools wobbled, and even the bar counter was unleveled. It just wasn’t a place that attracted a surplus of people. 

You pulled your first load of wine glasses from the dishwasher, lifting them into the bar to be polished.

The door to the bar chimed, “Welcome to the Old Sand Bucket.” You said, without looking upward. “What can I get you?”

Taeyong gave the bar a lengthy overview. It didn’t appear to be suspicious, just the opposite. The dated bar was completely unoccupied beside the humming bartender who was mindlessly polishing wine glasses.

He examined you like the rest, evaluating the level of threat you were. Your head stayed down, occupied with your task. You barely spared a glance at his boys, who began ordering drinks.

You wore a simple black shirt underneath a bar apron with the ‘Old Sand Bucket’ labeled on its front. Your hair was tied in a low ponytail, revealing the curvature of your neck. At its base was a silky black ribbon knotted in a neat bow. Other than being pretty, you didn’t appear to stand out. 

Taeyong hummed, satisfied the bar his boys wanted to drink at was nothing more than a dinky, uninspired establishment.

You heard another person pull out a wonky barstool, which made four people in your bar. Not bad, as you usually didn’t have customers come in until half past nine. 

You placed down a bourbon and coke to your left—a man’s voice offering you a quick thanks.

“What can I get you?” You asked, finally looking up at the last man.

“Whatever’s good.”

Your eyes widened, blinking repeatedly, willing the ghost of your past to disappear back to your nightmares.

This can’t be real. This can’t be him. Please. No.

But he didn’t. He sat in front of you. His bored expression faded as he caught you staring. You immediately dropped your face, your face burning.

Taeyong furrowed his brows, confused. The way you looked at him just then… It was as if you knew him. He wasn’t mistaken. He couldn’t be. The way you were mumbling your answers, your arms shaking as you reached to pour a shot of vodka.

You did the best you could to keep a low profile, keeping your face down, and distracting yourself with work around the bar. You wanted nothing more than to abandon your shift— your heart furiously pounding every time you heard one of their four voices address you. However, at around eleven there was an unusual influx of people (what you believed to be a bachelor’s night out), therefore you needed to power through your discomfort. 

You wavered for your manager to join you downstairs, while you stepped out of the bar and started clearing tables. 

Taeyong kept you in the corner of his eye, unable to shake the curiosity that brewed in his stomach.

“Give us a smile, love,” Slurred one of the drunken bachelors, who had stripped off his shoes and was now wearing one on his head. 

You complied, in order not to make a scene. You reached over his table to pick up one of the empty pints. You felt the irksome feeling of fingers brushing against your neck. You jumped back, dropping your tray. Your hands immediately shot to your neck, clasping where your black ribbon ought to be. 

The shattering of glass made Taeyong stand, interrupting Renjun mid-sentence. Your eyes were aflame with anger, your mouth parting in horror. You were trying desperately to conceal the base of your neck.

Without a second thought, Taeyong approached, pulling the drunken patron up by his wrinkled collar. The man began sloppily flailing, trying to make his pathetic getaway. 

Taeyong snatched the black ribbon out of his hand, before not so gently throwing him to the ground.

“I believe this belongs to you.” Taeyong stepped forward, extending his arm in your direction. 

You instinctively stepped back, your eyes narrowing on the black ribbon between his fingers. There was no way for you to reach for your ribbon without exposing your neck.

“You keep it.” You said as firmly as you could, turning your back to him.

He watched as you retreated to one of the back rooms, his interest in you only spiking.

You hid yourself in one of the alcohol storerooms, searching for something to cover up your neck. You resorted to some paper towels stained with raspberry syrup. It wasn’t one of your greatest ideas, but it seemed to work when your manager came bursting in.

“Where’d you go?” Your manager pressed, “You left broken glass for me to clean up by table fourteen.” 

"It accidently lock myself in the storage rooms again.” You lied.

Your manager sighed, ushering you out.

You did a quick scan of the bar, noticing the four men had since left. 

“What happened to you?” Your manager pointed to the paper towels and raspberry syrup. 

“Ah,” You pressed the wet paper harder against your neck, “A customer spilled a drink all over me.” 

Your manager shook his head, “Go home and clean up,” He signaled you to grab your things, “I’ll close up,”

Scattered, you thanked him and reached for your rucksack.

“Wait,” Your manager handed you an envelope, “Some guy left you a tip.” 

Who gives a tip in an envelope? You eyed it cautiously. 

You waited until you had turned a corner before you used your fingernail to pry apart the sealed envelope.

Inside was a one-hundred-dollar bill, your black ribbon, and a napkin that read 'Thanks for your service’. 

Taeyong kept his distance, hiding in the shadows. He watched you leave the bar, with your hand holding some paper towels to your neck. You use the other hand to tear open the envelope he’d left for you.

To his surprise, you barely acknowledged the bill—you were more interested in the black ribbon and the napkin. You stared at the napkin for a couple of minutes, your teeth grinding. You then scrunched it into a ball, throwing it onto the sidewalk with the envelope containing the hundred. You, however, kept the black ribbon.

Taeyong observed you as you slowly pulled the paper towels away, revealing a dark scar that wrapped around your neck... It was as if someone had strangled you with barbed wire. 

A flood of emotions went through him, sympathy, guilt, and finally, coldness. He couldn’t help but remember a young girl who had experienced a similar fate.

You had died many years ago. Or at least he thought so…

NETWORKS: -​

MONI’S NOTE: Woah! I cannot express how excited I am to dive back into this world. For those who don't know, this is an old fic of mine that I wrote like 5 years?! ago. I've decided to rework it and improve the story (also finally give it an ending). I would much appreciate your thoughts, comments, reblogs and likes are extremely valued.

TAGLIST: Let me know if you'd like to be added to this taglist!

© softsan - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[novamariestark]

Something to Live For

Summary: You get kidnapped by Derek Keyes.

Warnings: torture (not too descriptive), death (of course), use of (y/n), i'm not sure what else 🤣

Word count: 3386

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

Erin was your best friend, to see her spiralling like this… it hurt you. It made you feel weak and powerless. It was like she didn’t care anymore. Like she’d do anything to numb the pain. She was slipping further out of reach, and you’d tried everything—talks, interventions, late-night phone calls that ended in empty promises. But now, it was different. This time, her pain had built walls so high you couldn’t climb them.

You were losing her in the worst way possible. She was physically alive, but it was as though everything that made her who she was had died. Ever since she turned in her badge, you had been partnered with Jay. You loved Jay, he was like a brother to you. A really annoying one. But the both of you had lost the same person. The only person who was as heartbroken as you two was Hank. Everyone in intelligence missed Erin, but it hit you three the most.

Your boss.

In a way, it was like he lost a daughter. A daughter who decided that she wanted to let herself fall into the hole rather than accept the help to climb out.

You’re supposed to leave your outside life at the door when you come in, but it’s hard when her empty desk is literally staring you in the face. Nevertheless, you tried. As hard as you could. You had to. Your mind had to be 100% on the case. If you didn’t then someone could get hurt.

 You had to be fully focused if you were going to take down Derek Keyes. A ruthless drug kingpin that you want to take down. That objective gets set into motion when his little brother, Benji, agrees to take you to him. You.

He would only go with you. Despite everyone else’s protests, you agreed.

“Come on, guys, you don’t trust me?” you asked, moving your eyes across each face of the team. Your eyes lingering a little longer on one face in particular. One that ushered you into his office moments after.

“You sure you wanna be the one going in?” Hank asked, his eyes looked straight into yours, as though he was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

You scoffed, looking away from him, “How long is it going to take for you guys to trust me?” Sure, you’d only been there for seven months, but surely, you’ve proven yourself enough times now.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,”

“Then what is it?”

It was on the tip of his tongue. Why couldn’t he say it? Did he not want to? Yes, he wanted to, but you might not want him. You would leave, he’d never see you again. All these things and more swirled through his head, reasons why he hasn’t told you how he feels for you.

He soon comes to regret not telling you when he sees Derek raise his gun at you and his brother.

“Whoa, so what man, you gonna shoot me?” you asked, looking between the gun and him. Before you could even process what happened, a body dropped to the floor beside you. You looked down, it was Benji. You internally started to panic. If this asshole shot his brother without blinking an eye, he’d have no problem disposing of you.

Technically, you had no backup. You were further from them than you’d thought you’d be. You were alone. But you were stubborn as hell, so you weren’t going to go down without a fight. Without thinking twice, you shifted, letting your elbow fly back and connect sharply with the nose of the nearest guy, making him stumble back and bring a hand to his nose.

Your fist connects with the guy to your left, and you land a few quick, brutal punches to his ribs. You thought maybe, just maybe, you could fight your way out, but what you didn’t know was that one of them had pulled out a stick taser. You soon found out when it was rammed between your ribs.

But then, a sharp, searing pain explodes in your side. One of them had pulled out a stick taser, and you feel the shock slam into your ribs, sending jolts through every nerve in your body. Just like that, your legs buckle beneath you as you fall hard to the ground. It's like thousands of needles piercing your skin all at once. All muscles are stuck together. Dancing against your will.

As you lay there, you hoped they’d get to you but as they grabbed you from the floor and dragged you towards the car, you knew that there was little chance they would. But what also alarmed you is why they hadn’t just shot you on the spot. It’s what you’d prefer if you were being honest.

-

As you predicted, you were long gone by the time the team arrived in the hanger. As you struggle to stay awake, one thing kept clutching to your mind. Well someone…

You realize now that you may not get the chance to tell him what you truly feel. you’ve wanted to tell him for so long, but there was always this voice in my mind that stopped me.

‘he doesn’t like you’

‘how could he?’

‘You’d have to leave’

‘You’d have to leave your friends… your family’

Those were just a few things that voice told you. You believed every single one of them. Of course you did. Hank Voight was quite possibly the sexiest guy you’d ever met, and you were supposed to believe you stood a chance? You? The rookie of Intelligence? Yeah right.

But you didn’t see him. You didn’t see the panic in his eyes when he got there and saw you weren’t there. The frustrated yell that came from him. The pacing back and forth. You weren’t there to see how much you meant to him.

-

The team were frantic, doing anything and everything to find you. Hank still hadn’t stopped pacing. He still was when Trudy come up to tell him that he had a visitor who insisted he talk to him. It was just a kid. A kid Derek had used as a courier to deliver something to Hank. What? A DVD of you… being tortured.

When the image first appeared, they couldn’t believe what they saw. They saw you. Dangling from the ceiling, your wrists bound. Your feet had long given up, both were now folded at your ankles. The only thing keeping you up was your wrists. Your shirt unbuttoned so the team could see exactly what they had done to you. A wound on your stomach that had formed due to the repeated trauma caused by the taser. Subtle bruises beginning to form from where they had hit you. Sometimes with their hands, others with wrench or some other tool.

They had repeatedly asked you for something. You had no idea what it was, you were in too much pain to process any words. But what you did know, was that no matter the question, you were going to answer with something random. Something completely bullshit.

At the beginning of the video, they asked the question again, to which you replied, “Pineapple doesn’t belong on a pizza” that earned a few more punches and another jab of the taser. They asked again but they are met with yet another random answer, "Why do we park in driveways and drive on parkways?"

And so the torture continues. Kevin and Adam pull their gazes away from the screen, not being able to you like that. Kevin sneaks little peeks, to see if you were still breathing. Antonio’s head drops toward the desk, he too not being able to see you in pain. Hank and Alvin’s eyes never left the screen. The pain in Hank’s eyes grew more and more obvious, but for now it went unnoticed.

The phone that accompanied the disc started to ring. Hank picked it up, staring at it in his hand for a moment before he answers.

“Voight”

"I’m pretty sure my toaster is plotting against me." He heard you say in the background, followed by a few more punches.

“You’re girl is tough,” the voice on the other side spoke, “She won't talk. Nothing of use to me anyway. You should be proud,”

“What do you want?”

“I want all of Intelligence's CI files in exchange for your detective. Bring the CI files to the corner of 39th and California. Send a lone female officer. No cameras, no wires, no weapons. Just a girl with a file box. You'll make this drop tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. in the morning, or Detective (y/l/n) winds up fertilizer in some cornfield in Indiana. We understand each other, Sergeant?”

Hank didn’t sleep that night, he sat in his office all night after a visit to the prison. He sat there, staring at your desk which he had the perfect view to. Remembering all the times he’d looked at you whilst you were working. Remembering how you bit your lip when you were in deep concentration. Whenever you do that, it pushes away any other thought in his mind, leaving only the thought of how he wanted to be the one who bites that lip. He didn’t know that you’d gladly let him.

The next morning, the fake files were ready. Now all they needed was a female officer just like Derek had requested.

“Okay, call Burgess. Tell her to come in,” Hank said, turning to look at Adam.

Adam’s eyebrows scrunched up slightly, “What for?”

“Keyes requested a female officer deliver the files,” Hank replied simply.

Adam looked around him, then shook his head, “No, you find somebody else.”

Hank stepped forward, closing the distance, “You got a funny way of saying, ‘Yes, sir,’” he shot back.

Adam stood his ground, no matter how close Voight got to him, “There is no way I'm losing a partner and my fiancée on the same day...”

“I said, get Burgess.” Hank repeated, getting dangerously close to him.

Antonio rounded the desk and stood between the two men, “Hey, I'll pull up Rivera from patrol.”

“I'll do it.” Erin’s voice cut through the three of them.

Hank looked at her and then Antonio, “Get her out of here,” he ordered before he walked away.

She followed after him, “Hank...”

“You gave your star back,” he reminded her, stopping to look at her just outside his open office door, “Or don't you remember?”

“Can we talk?” she asked,

Hank walked up to her, “You know, you made it clear which direction you want to go in, which is down. I've accepted that. Now get out,” he said gesturing towards the exit.

“This isn't about me. This is about getting (Y/N) back,” she stated “This guy wants a female courier. You and I both know it should be me,”

“I keep thinking... I mean, I keep... I keep thinking... This never would have happened if I had another pair of eyes at Midway, your eyes. Then I'm not watching (Y/N) being tortured like an animal,” that’s when the team finally see it. The pain and the worry in his eyes. The aura around him that told the others to tread carefully around him or he might fly off the handle. It was you. He’d called you by your first name. Something he was very careful not to do, at least in front of the others.

“I'm asking you. Let me make this right. I will do the drop.”

--

You’re startled awake by the sudden opening of the door and footsteps. You looked up to see one of them coming towards you, “Ugh what do you want now?”

“Get up,” he barked, yanking you up by your forearm.

“What a gentleman,” you remarked with a roll of your eyes.

The walk felt long, even though it was probably only about 30 seconds, but your legs felt like you’d been walking for days. Before you can focus too much on the pain, you’re thrown onto a couch, with a woman sitting beside you. You look up, trying to focus your eyes. It wasn’t until she spoke that you knew who it was.

“My god, (y/n),” she said, brushing the hair away from your eyes.

Your eyebrows screw up, it can’t be, “Erin?” you asked, you must be dreaming, or hallucinating. It wasn’t really her.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she replied. You smiled at her, but still you weren’t too convinced. Is she real?, “come on,” she said as she went to pick you up.

“Sit down,” a voice from behind her said. You heard the click of a gun, “You ain’t going nowhere until these files check out,” He left and you turned your head to look at Erin.

“How are you here?” you asked through gritted teeth as a jolt of pain went through you. You could feel tears pricking at your eyes but you didn’t want to cry but pretty soon you weren’t going to have any control over it.

“Alvin called me,” she replied, pulling you into her side, her hand gently caressing the sweat stained skin of your arm, “Said you were in trouble,”

“you...” you paused, words getting trapped inside your throat, “you came back for me?”

“of course I did,” she said, pressing a kiss to your hair, “you’re my best friend,”

You smiled at her, a smile that didn’t last long because the guy came back saying the files were fake and before you knew it you and Erin were fighting. Fighting for your life. Its hard. You barely have any strength. You were in immense pain but you weren’t about to let her be alone like you were. You punch and punch and punch until the guy below you doesn’t fight back any more. You look up to see Derek has a gun pointed at Erin. She has her hands up in surrender.

Hell no were you going to allow this. You reached down, grabbing the gun from the man you had taken out.

“Good night” he said as his finger touched the trigger.

The sound of a gunshot echoes around the room. Erin screw her waiting for the bullet that never came. One by one, she opened her eyes to find Derek on the floor with a wound on his head. She looked down at you. The gun was still in your shaking hands. She knelt down beside you, unwrapping your hands from the gun and gently placed it on the floor.

It was then the dam finally broke and the tears you had kept pent up for however long you were here. You had no idea how long it had been. You cry and cry until eventually your eyelids grow so heavy, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

Erin holds you, her arms wrapped around you, your head resting on her shoulder. All up until she heard it. The gravelly voice yelling CHICAGO PD

She got up and headed towards the door. She opened it and is met with the sight of the team. They all looked at her, fearing the worst when they see her covered in blood.

“She needs an ambulance”

Hank shoots past her and into the room. His eyes darting everywhere until he saw you, on the floor. He decided that he didn’t want to wait for the ambulance. He picked you up and rushed out the room.

“Come on, we got to get her to hospital,” he said charging past the team, both Erin and Alvin follow closely behind, whilst the others clean up and take the other minions to the station.

-

Beep… beep…beep

What the fuck is that?

Beep… beep…beep

Will you cut that shit out?

Beep… beep…beep

Stop it!

The noise continued and it was starting to drive you insane, that was until you felt a hand sneak underneath yours, gently clasping around it. Who is that?

“She gonna be alright?” a voice from beside you asked. Where the hand was.

Wait… you know that voice. You should, you think about it all the time.

Hank?

“She’s going to pull through,” another voice replied.

You try to look around but all you can see is darkness. Where am I? Were you not still in the Kingpin’s hideout? No stupid, Erin was there. But was that real or a dream? Is this real or just a dream. Were you just so much in pain that your mind had totally checked out of reality?

You feel the thumb caress the back of your hand. You knew that voice but seriously… was this actually happening?

“I’ll be back to check on her in a little while,” Will said as he left you and Hank alone.

Another set of footsteps came towards you. Your immediate thought was to panic. But you didn’t when you heard another familiar voice.

“You really care about her, don’t you?”

Alvin

Hank didn’t answer. He just continued his gentle movements of his thumb.

“Well good for you,” Alvin replied to his silent answer with a little laugh, “You going to tell her?”

“No”

A look of confusion crossed his face, “What? Why?”

“Maybe because she’s 20 years younger than me, because there’s no way in hell she’d feel the same way for me,” Hank listed, the pain, hurt of him knowing he could never have what he wanted, who he loved evident in his voice.

“Do you love her?”

Hank kept opening and closing his mouth, he wanted to straight up deny that he loved you. But he couldn’t. His heart wouldn’t let him.

“You do,” Alvin admitted for him.

That was enough to wake you up, “You do?” both heads snap towards you, surprise on both their faces.

“Do what?” Hank asked, a little forced laugh escaping his lips.

“Love me?”

Again, Hank wanted to deny it, but you looking at him, awaiting his answer, he just couldn't.

“yes”

Alvin quietly slipped out of the room, a small knowing smirk on his lips.

“really?”

“yeah, really,”

You smile, turning slightly on your side, wincing at the pain that shot through your body but you continued anyway, despite Hank’s protests.

“How long?” you asked, Hank shook his head. He was unable to know exactly when he fell for you, having told himself that he wasn’t in love with you so many times. But also, a part of him still wanted to back away. To protect himself from hurt, “First time we did an interrogation together,” you added.

Hank’s eyebrows shot up, a silent question of “huh?”

“When I fell for you, was the first time I saw you in interrogation,” you replied, contradicting everything that was swimming around in Hank’s mind.

“Y-you? You love me?” he asked, you nodded shyly, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink, “But I’m-“

“-Incredibly hot and sexy?” you cut him off, “Yes I know,” you added, bringing your hand up to stroke his cheek.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“That makes two of us.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “When I saw you weren’t there, everything else just...stopped.” There was a vulnerability in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, as if he were afraid to let you know how much he’d cared. “I kept thinking about...all the things I never told you,” he murmured, He gave a half-smile, watching his thumb dance across your skin, “I’m not exactly the easiest guy to get close to, huh?”

You managed a small laugh, feeling your eyes sting with tears. “Guess that makes two of us,” you whispered back.

His hand tightened over yours, “Then let’s change that,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “No more waiting. No more ifs or buts,”

He leaned in, slowly, giving you enough time to react, to say no. But like hell you would. You moved in as close as your body would let you. After what felt like forever, your lips finally meet in the softest, sweetest kiss, something you wouldn’t have expected from him.

But of course, that was only the beginning. He has more in store for you when you are back to 100%

@unhappy-hannah I hope it's not too bad 🤣😱

[fairlyang]

Kitty 🕷️

you've never had anyone able to stop you when doing crime, until now

w/c: 5K

pairing: miguel o’hara x blackcat!reader

tags: 18+ smut. stealing, getting caught, chasing, flirting, teasing, falling into temptation, exhibitionism, making out, fingering, blowjob, back blown out, choking, unprotected sex

notes: my fav fics bc I LOVE black cat she’s so hot and I learned sm about her when I was researching

The notorious Black Cat of New York, loved all things shiny, kicking ass, and using her seducing skills to the best of her ability when needed. Never exactly aiming to have turned out like her father but what can one do when kidnapped by Kingpin and are forcibly meant to be his Guinea pig?

Getting created to be a super soldier that was also a seductress? What else would this have led to?

On the bright side who else was able to rob banks and also be able to stop other criminals from doing so before she gets to hit them herself? None other than yourself, of course.

Obviously no one was able to stop the infamous Black Cat or retrieve all the things she'd steal. The cops were completely and utterly useless, slow and dumb. So you always got away and were able to profit off all the high end jewelry you'd steal.

You were going to hit up a jewelry store, to steal a few brand new diamonds for yourself. In your oh so casual Black Cat attire that consisted of a black spandex suit with the matching mask covering your eyes, along with the realistic long silver wig.

You were somewhat unrecognizable, but it wasn't like anyone from your personal life was gonna be robbing banks or jewelry stores. There'd be no reason for anyone in your life to see you when you were doing Black Cat activities.

And with no one to stop you, you were golden. Or were you?

I quickly turned off the security system in the jewelry store from the alley right next to it, I grabbed my bag of goodies and I hid my special tablet behind some trash before quickly going inside by the side door. It was vacant, as expected.

I went to the back of the store and look at the cases with the newest necklaces and rings embedded with shiny diamonds. I trail a finger along the glass and look down at the casing filled with only diamond rings.

I walked along the back of the store, looking at everything, the shiniest of rings and earrings until I spotted the most gorgeous necklace.

Filled with diamonds shaped like flower petals all along the neckline with a leaf shape hanging down with more diamonds around the shape, with a red ruby sitting perfectly right in the middle of it. My eyes flicker with admiration and want, I needed it.

I take my bag off from my shoulder and place it on the floor quickly opening it to grab something to open it. Then I stop and stand up walking to the back of the case and scoff. The key.

What kind of dumbasses leave the fucking key out?

I shrug and roll my eyes unlocking the little door and take the necklace out carefully. No alarm.

Odd but I'm not gonna question it.

I close the case and walk back to my bag and stuff it in one of its pockets then zip it up. I pick it up putting the strap back on my shoulder and walk around the store, stopping when something caught my eye.

I walk over to it and chuckle. How ironic... a gold necklace with a cat hanging out and yet another red ruby being held by it's little collar.

How could I not?

I grab a small tool with a pointy end and walk to the back of the counter. I kneel down and quickly unlock the little door and in just a few seconds it clicks open. I slide the door open and grab the necklace admiring the pretty ruby.

I stand up and grab a few other pieces then walk around the counter and back to my bag. I put them all in another pocket carefully then close it shut.

I wrap my bag around my shoulders and head towards the side door, not really wanting anything else. I open the door and close it quietly before making my way to pick up my tablet from where I left it.

Sure enough it was there and I quickly turned the security system back on before climbing on top of the roof.

I walk along the edge of the roof looking at the view, admiring all the buildings and the glowing moon right above them. I jumped off roof to roof for about half an hour, staring out, as I make my way home.

I was hopping off rooftops while admiring the moonlight and feeling the nice cold breeze. I was one block away from my apartment building when I heard a loud thump behind me. I quickly withdraw my claws and turn around, ready to pounce but I look up and see a huge man in front of me, in some kind of superhero suit? "And who might you be?" I ask, looking at the mysterious man up and down. Damn....

"That doesn't concern you." He snarls and I lift my hands up in fake defense.

"Okay sensitive-" I say and snicker.

"Shut up-"

"Okay well if it doesn't concern me then I'll just be on my way." I say and turn to walk away but his hand quickly grips my shoulder and turns me back around.

His hand then went to my back and some talons appeared out of his arms and he brought one up to my neck. I raised an eyebrow and chuckle, "ah so that's how this is gonna be...."

He's about to say something when I quickly shove him off me and lift my knee up to his crotch, hitting him hard, he groans and his grip on me loosened giving me a chance to quickly escape. I push him off me and make a run for it, jumping onto the next roof while he curses under his breath before I soon heard him land on the same rooftop, but I was about to jump to the next one already.

"Shit-" I curse under my breath and run as fast as I could and jump on the absolute last bit of every rooftop.

Suddenly I feel something wrap around my body, I look down, widening my eyes looking at some kind of red rope and the stranger pulling it making me step towards him. I groan and roll my eyes, "this isn't very nice y'know..."

"Good, it's not meant to be." He mutters walking to me and quickly grabs the straps of my bag, slipping it off my shoulders making me growl.

"Don't-"

"Cute, you think you can tell me what to do." He says, his tone cocky. The nerve.

I shut my eyes and slowly cut through a piece of the rope with my claws, I did it as slowly as I can to not alert him in anyway, let him have his little victory before I snatch my things back and go home. "So who are you?" I ask, annoyed and wanting to fill the silence.

He unzips my bag in front of me and takes out the flower petal diamond necklace first, I bite my lip and roll my eyes. Oh how badly I wanted to just claw my way out of this-

But no, not yet..

"Ah so the little cat likes diamonds huh?" He tuts making me smirk.

"Only girl's best friend." I say and pout, "and you're still gonna take 'em away from me?"

"'Course," he starts then grins, "don't think you can play me with your little games and antics, kitty I'm not gonna fall for it." He says looking at me sternly.

I smirk and shrug, "Every man has his own weak point."

He scoffs and shakes his head, "You're unbelievable."

"Unbelievably irresistible?" I say in a soft voice making him chuckle.

"You just don't stop do you?" He mutters and looks at what else is in my bag.

He pulls out my tablet and I bite my lip, cutting through another piece of rope. He holds it up to me and I just smile, "find anything you like?"

He shakes his head in disbelief and mutters something unintelligible and I just flutter my lashes at him, just gotta keep him distracted for as long as I can.

He's definitely not a cop, some kind of superhero? Like those corny movies? I shake my thoughts away and cut through another piece.

Just a few more and I'll be able to wiggle out...

"So stranger you're not gonna introduce yourself? Don't you have any manners?" I tease and smirk when he rolls his eyes.

He sighs and puts everything back where he found it, zipping every pocket and swings the straps over his shoulder. My eyes make their way to my bag but then land on his body. Jesus his biceps- broad shoulders- holy fuck the way he'd look so good on top-

"Spiderman." He says abruptly interrupting my thoughts.

"What?" I say and blink, confused.

"Names Spiderman." He says and I chuckle.

"I'm sorry-" I say and laugh, "like a tarantula spider?" I ask and he nods.

"What were you bit by a spider?" I joke and laugh.

He shakes his head and smirks through his mask. Hmm wonder what he looks like-

"I wasn't but others were." He says nonchalantly and I just raise an eyebrow.

"Okay... well that's... something." I say still confused and shrug.

My claws cut through another two pieces and I sigh, "well Spiderman, it was nice meeting you but I really gotta head home."

He raises an eyebrow at me and with a singular pull on the ropes they all fell to the floor, he looked at me mouth agape and shocked. "Would really love to stay and chat but I'm not really in the mood to seduce my way out tonight." I say casually and shrug.

I withdraw my own talons pointing it to his chest only lightly grazing his suit, and quickly take my bag off him and wrap it across my shoulder. I trace along his collarbone slowly while staring at his masked eyes, "but maybe we can do that in the future." I whisper giving him a wink, before quickly running to the edge and jump off the roof.

I landed on a set of stairs of the random apartment building we were on top of, I quickly hop off the side of them and slide down a pipe before sprinting down the alley and running towards my apartment.

I somehow made it without being followed, I made it to side of the building since it was on a corner. I unzipped my bag and took out a jacket before quickly putting it on and zipping it up. I take off my mask and stuff it in my pocket then grab my keys and go through the front door.

I walk towards the elevator and press the button and it immediately opens up. I walk in and press the button to my floor and it moves up. I sigh and lean against the wall, and not a single scratch on me.

It dinged and I quickly walk out and turn to the right, walking towards my apartment. I unlock the door, walking in and place the bag on the floor carefully before closing the door and putting the two locks on them. Another successful robbery.

And thus the Black Cat finally had someone worthy of being able to capture her. Sure it wasn't completely successful on Spiderman's behalf but it was the closest anyone has even gotten.

That robbery wasn't your first of almost getting caught, if anything it was the start of a long lasting game of cat and mouse.

Sometimes he'd go easy on you. Sometimes you wouldn't try so hard to escape. But every time, both of you would keep your interactions going for as long as you could, not getting enough of each other.

Both feeling the upmost attraction to one another but Spiderman doesn't want to fall into temptation while Black Cat continues to press on.

The thrill of it all being almost too much for both parties, but neither could help but want to continue this back and forth game.

Will Black Cat continue to press on or give up?

Will Spiderman stay strong or fall into his deepest desires?

"Spider! So glad you could make it tonight!" I say enthusiastically looking up at my new favorite person to stumble upon when I'm out stealing.

"Well I can't just let you steal more now can I, kitty?" He says looking down at me.

I bite my lip and can't help but admire his body again, like I do every time. just completely ignoring what he said. "You look good Spidey, have you been working out recently?" I ask as I place my bag down on the floor of the roof we were on.

"Maybe a bit." He says and gets off the edge of the roof and steps in front of me, still holding my gaze.

"Getting prettier kitty?" He says taking another step closer to me as I smile.

"Just for you." I whisper and quickly wrapping my arms behind his neck and lean up.

I felt his breath on my lips as I looked into his masked eyes, curiosity getting the best of me as I bring a hand to his neck and grabbing on the end of his mask slowly bringing it up. He instantly brings a hand up to stop me but I swat him away and only bring the mask above his lips.

Such pretty pink plump lips.

I let my thumb lightly graze his bottom lip, I feel it shake a little making me grin. "You could just give in y'know." I whisper and move my hand to go down and trail along his shoulder.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "you know I can't."

"But we both know you want to." I murmur and move my head to look at his neck.

I leave the smallest of soft and open-mouthed kisses I can give as I feel his breathing speed up and his hands going back to grip my waist. I go up and lightly nibble on his earlobe making him moan and tilt his head back. I pull away and go back down to his neck, leaving wet kisses along his warm skin before I find the perfect spot to suck on.

I suck gently on his skin then let my tongue graze against his skin then leave a kiss on the new bruise. He lets out a moan and I feel him grip my waist a bit harder making me giggle. "Can't even deny it, can you Spidey?" I tease and he shakes his head no.

I leave kisses all along his neck then up his throat and against his Adam's apple, I felt the vibration of a groan against my mouth making me shiver with pure excitement as I squeezed my thighs together. "You know I can't kitty." He purrs making me bite my lip.

I pull away from him and he brings a hand up from my waist and takes off the rest of his mask. I widen my eyes but before I could properly admire him, he smashed our lips together in a very hungry kiss.

I kiss him back with the same intensity, my hands going up to his hair as his went down to my waist, bringing me as close to him as possible. I tug on his hair making him groan so I slide my tongue in ready to explore every inch but I soon felt his tongue on mine.

I felt my breathing getting unsteady quickly and felt butterflies all over my skin as the kiss was growing more passionate. I let him slide his tongue into my mouth when I felt a hard smack against my ass making me moan. His movements become more frantic and fast, I felt both of his hands squeezing and spanking my ass making me whimper against his mouth.

He pulls away since we were both starting to lose our breath, I try to calm myself down as he continued smacking my ass, surely making it red under my spandex. "You're so pretty." He murmurs and moves his head down to kiss my neck gently.

I let out a shaky breath and feel my eyes flutter as I tilt my head back to give him more access. "So pretty." He murmurs against my skin making me moan and squeeze my thighs.

"I need you-" he purrs, moving his hand to my inner thigh.

"Then have me." I breathe out and he groans.

He reached for the zipper by my neck and slowly brings it down. It goes down my chest as he continues dragging it down and stops at my stomach. He looks up and moans as I take my arms out of the suit, revealing my bare tits to him. His hands immediately went to squeeze them not having a care in the world that we were out in public on a random roof of a building.

He squeezed them both at the same time then started pinching both nipples making me yelp because he did it too hard so fast, he muttered a quick apology before he goes down and takes turns sucking on each sensitive nub. My hands went up to his hair as his were pulling the rest of my suit down, "eager are we?" I tease before letting out a moan as he reached down to rub to my covered pussy.

"You can't blame me," he mutters then pulls away and going down to his knees, "it's not my fault you look this fucking good." He says leaving the smallest of kisses on my inner thighs.

I let out a shaky breath and move back to lean against a pole, he scoots forward and leaves a kiss right over my clothed clit. "Spider-"

He hums as his hands slide up and quickly brings my panties down. He gets them off my legs and spreads my legs, gently blowing air along my now exposed pussy. He moans as he brings two fingers and gently rubs along my folds, my slickness enveloping them. "God you're so fucking wet for me baby." He mutters under his breath and I feel my legs shake.

I nod and bite my lip, taking the sight below me in awe. He looked so fucking good.

"Might just have to take you like this baby..." he murmurs before his mouth finally makes contact with my pussy.

"Oh fuck-" I moan and bring my hand down to grip his curls.

He starts devouring it as if it were his last meal and with one finger teasing my entrance making me buck my hips around his face. "Please-" I whimper and slowly move my hips.

He moans against me making me let out a whine because of how delicious the vibration felt and I feel his finger slip in, and slowly make its way inside. My walls clenching against his finger as he quickly shoved it then back out and back in again.

He repeated this a few times and right when I was going to complain when he slowed down, he added another finger and actually started fucking me right.

The only thing being heard on the rooftop being my moans and the sounds that were coming from between my legs, everything else was silent. And thank god for that.

He pumps them inside at a faster pace and curls his fingers up making sure to hit that spot oh so perfectly. "Fuck- just like that Spider-" I moan out, leaning my head back.

"So fucking dirty-" he mumbles not stopping his pace.

"Huh letting me do this to you out in public kitty? Don't even care if we get caught? You like this don't you?" He murmurs and I bite my lip, nodding as he looks up at me.

"Look at me and tell me how much you love it." He demands, going deeper making me a moaning mess above him.

I look down and lock my gaze to his eyes, "I love it so much- fuck! F-feels so good." I whimper and lean back on to the pole.

"That's a good girl." He purrs and I feel myself clench against him, holy fuck- 

He then leans in and starts sucking on my clit hungrily as he continues fucking me. I move my hips against his face and clasp my hand over my mouth feeling my orgasm quickly approaching. "S-Spider-"

Instead of responding he adds a third finger, fucking me deeper as all my arousal spills out. My legs began shaking and I tried to pull away but he quickly wrapped his other arm around me making me stay still. I move my hand away from my mouth and just let out bundles of cries as my orgasm hits.

He slowed down and kept fucking me letting me ride out my high while leaving me absolutely breathless. My heart was beating fast and my breathing was hard, I was trying my hardest to calm myself down but it just felt so good.

He finally stopped moving his fingers and just let them deep inside me, only slowly pulling them out. He pulls away from my soaked clit and looks up at me with a smile, my juices glistening on his lips and dribbling down his chin.

I chuckle and give him a lazy smile as he finally pulls his fingers out, I instantly feel more of my juices come out and I squeeze my thighs together. Can't just leak all over this roof....

I finally feel my breathing being steady and widen at the sight of him sucking on his fingers, having a taste of me. I roll my eyes back and moan, he looked so fucking good.

He slips his fingers out and gets up from his knees, standing up in front of me, "You taste fucking amazing kitty." He groans and I immediately pull him in for a kiss.

He moans against my mouth as I get a taste of myself as well, surprisingly sweet. I let him slide his tongue into my mouth as I have a hand travel down to his hard bulge.

I lightly rub it as I kiss him back hungrily and only start stroking it when he moans in my mouth. I pull away and grin, lips trailing down his mouth, to his chin, jaw, then neck. I kiss around his neck then suck on the soft skin before licking it gently.

I continue stroking him through his suit and the moans escaping his lips were just so delicious to my ears while I kept leaving marks on his neck. "You gotta get rid of this suit Spider." I murmur and he moans in agreement.

He pulls away from me and taps the back of his neck and suddenly the bottom half of his suit disintegrated revealing his thick and long cock spring up against his stomach. I bite my lip and without a second thought drop down to my knees.

I immediately take hold of it and start licking the precum off the tip, making sure to get every last drop. I don't waste anymore time and take him into my mouth, trying to take as much of him as I can. Only able to take half at first and already gagging had me thinking of how this would be a tight fit.

He was going to make me feel so tight as if it were the first time all over again but maybe he'd fit to perfect and fuck me so good. I felt drool drip down my chin and I realized I was taking more of him now.

I pulled out and look up at him with innocent eyes before sticking my tongue out and slap the tip on it. He groans and takes hold of my ponytail, leading me back to taking him.

I moan as he takes control and slowly thrusts his hips into my face, making me more and more wet. I closed my eyes and moved my head as well now taking him all the way that his trimmed hairs lightly tickled my nose. "Just like that- fuck just like kitty." He moans out and thrusts again making me gag.

He pulled on my hair and made me go back to his tip then thrusted his hips forward, then back until he decided to just start fucking my face. I let it happen and just look up at him all teary eyed as my throat was getting fucked.

Suddenly he pulls away and grabs my arm making me stand up with him. He wipes the drool off the side of my cheeks and then flips me over and bends me making me take hold of the pole.

He makes me arch my back and stick my ass out when I feel him position himself to my entrance. He moved his tip up and down my folds even to my clit then down to my aching hole then needed to be filled up again.

As if hearing my thoughts he slowly pushed himself inside making me immediately clench against his tip and having us both moan. He already felt so big and he was only barely inside...

I took a deep breath in then let it out and he takes hold of my hips as I grip on to the pole tightly. He pushes himself in and I could only guess it was about halfway before he slammed the rest in. "Fuck!!!" I cry out and move my ass against him earning myself a hard smack.

"You're so fucking tight." He groans and rubs my skin as he pulls back then slams himself into me again.

I moan and lean my head against the pole as he slowly starts to fuck me. After a few slow thrusts and he notices I've gotten comfortable and use to his size he finally starts going faster.

I bit my lip hard really trying to stay as quiet as I can, almost feeling bad if we wake anyone up but also the thought going away immediately when I feel a hand against my throat. I breathe in and quickly regret it for obvious reasons even though his grip wasn't too tight.

He then forces my throat back, making me stand up straight as he fucks me harder. I roll my eyes back and against his hard chest, his hand still wrapped around my throat as I forcibly hold back moans as he pounds into me. "God this pussy feels so good." He moans making me breathe out and hold on to his arm wanting a release.

He groans and fucks me even harder, his grip on my throat now being slightly tighter. A combination of a mewl and a cry escape my lips making him chuckle as he brings his lips to my ear, gently nibbling on it.

His lips then went down to the side of my neck and his other hand around my waist. His hand then trailed down to my stomach and he pressed it above my belly button making me clench.

He lets out of my throat and I let out cries as he continues pressing on my stomach, it feeling unbearably strange but good. "Fuck!! Spider- fuck- feels s-so- g-good." I choke out and he grunts.

"You're taking me so well baby- fuck- feel that? Mmm feel how much you're taking right now?" He moans into my ear running a shiver down my spine.

He brings his hand down to my waist while the other stayed where he was buried deep inside me. I'd never felt this before and it just felt so good. Also had me noticing how I was able to take all of him at once.

"Please- fuck me harder- deeper please." I moan out and he groans.

He does just that and slams his hips into mine making me cry out and hold on to his arms. "Fuck-"

I felt the all too familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach as he continued ramming into me earning all kinds of noises leaving my mouth. "I'm so close-"

He holds onto me tighter and just this size difference alone might've thrown me over the edge if I really thought about it considering how huge he was compared to me.  "Let go baby. I wanna feel you cum around me." He murmurs and I nod.

With one final deep thrust my orgasm hit hard and i felt my legs almost give up but I was held tightly and didn't worry about falling. I felt my body shake as he shot his cum deep inside me and I could hear his moans in my ear.

I leaned my head against his chest and I felt his chin on top of my head, and I think he kissed it? I wasn't sure if I felt that right but I was too fucked out to question it.

He slowly pulls out and I could have swore I felt him twitch inside me as he was pulling out. Finally I felt his tip pop out and I instantly feel my pussy gush out all his cum. I chuckle and look down as it spills to the floor, guess it was gonna leak anyway...

"You took me so well kitty." He purrs into my ear and I grin turning my head to look at him.

"You fucked me so well spider," I murmur looking deeply into his eyes, "even better than I'd have ever imagined." I whisper and he crashes his lips onto mine.

I kiss back and turn my body to face him as his hands explore my body while mine go behind his neck. "We've gotten so this more often." I murmur against his mouth and he just nods.

"Absolutely." He mutters and smacks my ass.

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

NO, but I don't think people understand. Can you imagine that first game after the news breaks about The Butcher of Baltimore and Jean's parents' arrest? Murder? Disappearance? (I don't know how the Yakuza plans to handle it)?!?!

Like people are gonna realise that the Raven turned Trojan backliner they cheered for was the son of some French criminal dons and the unhinged Fox striker that they watched all last year play with Kevin Day and have a public feud with Riko and who was insane on Kathy Ferdinands show was actually the son of a notorious killer/criminal kingpin who kidnapped him after a game and tortured him and then he went on to beat Riko, upsetting the Ravens winning streak, helping to make Exy history and then Riko tried to kill him on live TV?

Add Rikos' death, Kevins cryptic comments, and the Ravens' concerning and troubling behavior post TKM.

Like the sports fans and the true crime fans are gonna be fed for years on this. The Foxes and the Trojans will be inundated with press requests and the sales for tickets will sell out in seconds (great for the charities that the percentage of tickets sales go to thanks to Dan and Renee).

Also, how desperate do you think Kathy is to get Neil back on her show knowing what she knows now? The clips of the initial interview would go viral after the news broke, and it was probably already viral to start, given the drama between Riko, Kevin, and Neil.

Like the public would only know half of the true story and its still memeable, social media phenomenon levels of insanity.

Thank goodness Jean and Neil are equipped with emotional support blondes. Also Kevin.

[hanibalistic]

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 8175

warning | briefe violence / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie / this part deviates from the movie 

parts | one, two, three, four

There were four things you learned from what happened at the bank. 

One, Gwen's finishing touches to your glitch-prevention bracelet saved the essential parts of your body—neck down and hip up—from getting injured. Upon detecting the incoming air pressure released from the explosions, which the bracelet mistook as the effect of a glitch, it surrounded your torso with a protective shield that would have covered you fully if the blasts did not cause it to malfunction.

Two, the loyalty Rio has for her son was extraordinary. After Miles called her out to the back alley of the hospital building, she did not hesitate a second to sneak you into a vacant room and take from the hospital the medical supplies needed to treat you as best as she could. She did not ask any questions. It was one look on Miles’s anxious face, and she was on her feet, taking charge. Because of the safety measures Gwen placed in your bracelet, you did not sustain any fatal wounds, making it much easier for Rio to help you. The only problem you encountered was pain, a lot of it.

Three, Miles has done terrible things. He was the prowler, whatever that meant. The explosions were one of the significant steps in a bank heist that he, Uncle Aaron, and Gwen took up as a side project. Most of the time, they work on lucrative commissions offered by the likes of Kingpin, whoever that was. Kidnapping, assault, and even murder were not irregular to him. He confessed that he had killed someone before, and you asked him to stop it at that.

Four, after shutting yourself out from everyone, except for letting Rio bring you food occasionally, you realized you couldn’t care less about what Miles has done.

The thought haunted you, leaving you in an endless debate with yourself. How dare you let go of your conscience? How dare you treat a criminal with kindness? How dare you look a killer in the eyes and see someone different than their dirty past? To say you were distraught would be an understatement, as the accusations your mind kept throwing at yourself were the least troublesome hurdle to jump through. The most teeth-rotting matter was that you were guilty. You avoided seeing Miles because you knew once you did, the outrageous truth would hit you harder than the bomb blasts did. The fact that you still looked at him with love.

“Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah–yeah. For sure.” 

You climbed on his bed and sat cross-legged next to him. Miles sucked in a breath when you touched knees, and suddenly, all his senses were focused on that particular contact spot. You picked at your fingers sheepishly, feeling rather silly about your week-long silent treatment. But you needed it for self-reflection and to come to terms with your conclusion. Miles waited for you to speak. He didn’t know if this was only a spur of the moment, and he wasn’t willing to take any risks that might chase you out of his room. 

“I thought about what you told me at the hospital,” you started, rubbing your hands. 

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he said, turning his head ever-so-slightly to gauge your reaction. “I would never hurt you on purpose, [Name]. I really had no idea you were there.”

“I know,” you nodded with a faint smile, “I forgave you the night it happened.”

You felt he didn’t accept your forgiveness and supposed that was only natural. If you were in his shoes, the mental gymnastics you would do to keep yourself occupied with blam could rival his. The only thing that could get him to treat himself kinder would be time, specifically having you pass through it with him. Licking your lower lip, you rubbed your nose and hummed a soft, audible grin. He turned fully to you then, feeling less anxious.

“Miles, I don’t judge you for what you did or what you plan to do,” you said, your head mildly gesturing in emphasis. Concentrating in deep thoughts, you rubbed your eyes, sniffed comfortably, and faced him with a knowing upside-down smile. “Be it you have a reason or not, I don’t think I will ever–how do I say this? I don’t think I will distance myself from you, ever.”

He felt breathless, but it came from the incongruence between his mind and heart rather than the supposed relief that you accepted him. He was too accustomed to anticipating horrific reactions that he forgot people could be open-minded. You were not supposed to be okay with what he did. You couldn’t be okay with what he did!

“[Name],” he heaved out with an uncontrollable shake of his head, “my hands are bloody.”

You looked down at where he rested them on his lap. Were they? Miles’s hands may be bloody, but they were also a multitude of other things. They are a mother’s secret financial support; they peel the skin off fruits, stroke your hair when you cry to sleep and dance across your love handles in a ticklish haze. You reached out tentatively to hold them, finally realizing he was trembling. Was he scared? You didn’t react to it. His hands fit cozily in yours, as they always have, and suddenly, Miles didn’t fear the atrocity they were capable of. You broke him down, mellowed him out, rinsed him off all he’s ashamed of, and he—

“Mine will cover the stains for you.” You held up your interwind hands with a tight-lipped smile. “See? Can’t even see your palms anymore.”

—loves you, in a frightening way that it seemed like you felt the same way too. 

“[Name],” he hushed, his head dipping in exhaustion. “I’m not gonna stop berating myself.”

He wouldn’t, and it would hurt you less than it would hurt him.

You let go of his hands and watched him desperately scramble for you. It was a heartbreaking sight, even for a split second, to see his longing ragged out like an unwatered plant reaching for the faintest taste of rain. Getting your arms out and open, you refolded your legs into kneeling to pull him into a proper hug. Miles gritted his teeth to silence the screeching voices as he returned the hug immediately. When he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the usual crank of it because your neck was sensitive and ticklish, he began to calm down.

Feeling you pat his back, he supposed this was all anything should feel like. Love—a word capable of expressing an emotion of its terrifying caliber. What else could it be? True love is the inability to abandon, in the same way Miles waited for you even after you died, and you refused to let go of his cold-blooded hands made warm by holding yours. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” You nodded with a sudden thoughtful hum. “Hey, you know what you can do to make it up to me?”

Miles perked up slightly and pulled away. He raised a brow when he saw the bashful smile on your face. You’ve got an idea, and he might not like it.

The pressure in your stomach dropped whenever Miles was pulled back to the ground by gravity. Not a second after reaching the floor, he was up in the air again, his boots allowing him to reach a much greater height and distance when he jumped. As the chilling air hit your face and hair, you realized Miles was right to bundle you up after he finally agreed to take you on a stroll high up in the air. 

When you raised the idea to him, his reaction was as he suspected: he did not like it. Or, well, he did not understand it.

You had told him about the faint memory of a floaty feeling the day of the bank accident, which, after he told you about him being the prowler, you could deduce had come from him taking an unconventional shortcut to the hospital. He made the mistake of admitting that he was hopping from roof to roof to get you there because the next thing you asked was for him to do it again, but this time you would be conscious of experiencing it. 

Perhaps he has possessed the convenience his prowler suit gave him for too long. He couldn’t understand being fascinated with the ability to be in the air. You briefly mentioned Spiderman and his interesting web-shooting function as an argument to get Miles to understand you, but how could he? He wasn’t even sure if Spiderman was real! Still, he caved into your wish, grabbed the boots he kept hidden in his closet because he refused to go anywhere with the risk of bumping into him for now, and brought you on a rooftop stroll. 

What was originally a safety hazard forcing his claws to wrap steel tight around your body soon shifted into something of ease. His heart grew in size at how much fun you were having, and for once, he reverted to the boy he was the first time he experienced the thrill this well-made suit gave him. He kept his eyes forward to map a path across the buildings, his claws helping him move closer to the sky. He heard your uncontrollable laughter, he wished he could see your eyes light up brighter than the moon above, and he envied the wind that brushed your face and hair. 

This was a good idea. This may be the single best thing he has done.

“Where are we going?” you whispered, tightening your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Hold on tight.”

Miles kicked his feet against the brick wall to hoist himself a good distance upward before forcing his claws through the concrete. He pressed the hand on the low of your back into his body, keeping you steady in one arm. You couldn’t bear to look around at the height you were stuck in, but the arm strength Miles has to support two weights while climbing up a tall building with one arm was surprising and, dare you say, attractive. 

The skyscraper was a place Miles hadn’t visited since ‘your’ death. Being here with you now did not make him feel better. He was careful where he stood on the edge of the highest point of the building; he wanted you to look over the bright borough.  

“Oh, no way! You brought me to the skyscraper?” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “You always said no when I wanted to come here.”

“I got reasons,” he huffed out quietly. Upon your silence, he peered down from the night view and saw you staring at him expectantly. He barely rolled his eyes in defeat. “You died here. You fell.”

The high-pitched hum you let out was comedically timed. Rigidly turning your head to face out, you could only imagine the exact height of this skyscraper as you could not see below the horizon. No wonder he didn’t let you on the ground—this would be one hell of a fall if history repeats itself. Miles chuckled lowly when you curled your arms tighter around his neck and slumped your weight further into him. You echoed his chuckle.

“Well,” you muttered, “definitely not letting go of you anytime sooner.”

“I’m not gonna either,” he said.

A sudden gust of wind blew at your face. You leaned closer to his neck for warmth, your eyes squinting at the building lights. It was too late into the night for the borough to remain bustling as in the morning, but the illumination from apartments, stores, and other high buildings made an equally homey view. The silence was enjoyable, too; just the open air and the inner sound of you counting your breath. 

“Was it embarrassing?” you asked suddenly, your voice hoarse.

“What is?”

“Me falling? I don’t know–“ your body shifted upward, forcing Miles to adjust to your new position–“did I look weird when falling? Did you see me fall? Did anyone see me fall–oh my god, were the police here?”

“I’m sorry. Where is this coming from?” he asked with a confused deadpan. “What are you even saying? None of that matters?”

“It actually does matter because I feel–“ you sucked in a deep breath dramatically–“I don’t like having too much attention on me, and if the police came, I feel that would be very awkward.”

“You trippin’.” He rolled his eyes.  

“What? That’s very valid!” You knocked your fist on the back of his shoulder. “Did I look weird when I landed? Did you see it? Did my brain splatter–“ You quieted down with an opened mouth when he flashed you a pointed look, but several suppressed giggles periodically left your lips as you moved your hands from his neck to cup his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put that thought in your head! Don’t think about that!”

Miles’s eyes softened. He wanted to kiss the laugh lines around your mouth. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”

You breathed out the last of your giggles and then stared at him. He was thinking about you even with you here—you knew, you knew very well. Your fingers grew timid at his stare, but they refused to leave the curve of his face. They could only ghost across his skin in freckled spots, treating him with the care he has given you. Miles barely leaned into your touch. He tested the water first, afraid that you would pull away at his immediate engagement, and he fully pressed his palm to your hand when you kept it where it was. 

You brought his face to yours. “Hey!” you whispered with a soft grin when your nose touched. 

“Hey,” he returned. He was soft. You’ve made him soft, made him a messenger of affection. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know.”

You pursed your lips at the feeling of his nose scraping past the bridge of yours. He was leaning closer, inviting you to something more intimidating than standing on the edge of a skyscraper. 

“Miles.” your voice was hushed. “Miles, I’m shy. Can you kiss me first?”

He leaned forward to kiss you after dropping a relieved sigh. You closed your eyes at the sheer force of his desperation, your hands mustering up the courage to grip his face tighter and bring him to you. The taste of your lips cascaded over his conscience. You hit him, like a ton of bricks, like the feeling of flesh wrapped around a blade, like being in the center of a firework explosion. It was a feeling he would trade anything for; one could ask him for a lifetime in return for a second of your lips on his. 

“Woah! Did you forget you’re on the run, Miles?”

“Oh, jeez! Mayday, don’t look!”

You two broke away immediately at the uninvited voices. Miles puffed air into his cheeks with an eye roll, not even attempting to hide how irritated he was at the interruption. Still heaving from the kiss, your brows furrowed when you came face to face with four outrageously different-sized figures, all dressed in a variation of a Spider suit, with a literal toddler wearing a Spiderman mask too small for her head. 

“Who…?” you started slowly. “Spidermen…? Spiderman’s sidekicks?”

“Now that’s just disrespectful,” the one with spikes on his head commented.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you muttered in response.  

“Who are you guys?” Miles asked defensively as he took a few steps back. He held you closer to him, his knees barely buckling in preparation to run. 

“How could you forget your mentor, Miles?” The man took off his mask and opened his arms as an introduction. “It’s me! Peter!”

“Oh my god, it’s Spiderman.” You slapped Miles’s chest to be let down on the ground, but he refused. Although his hair color changed, and he looked relatively scruffier than you remembered on the news, those features could not be mistaken. That was the face of the superhero you grew up seeing. “I thought you died. It was all over the news!”

“How could I be standing here if I died?”

“You know him?” Miles questioned. “I don’t know him.”

“Apparently not?” you mumbled. “Maybe he faked his death somehow?”

“Wait, what about me? You remember me! It’s Pavitr? We fought together! You saved my girlfriend’s dad, Inspector Singh?” He pointed over to his friends, his hair bouncing lusciously. “With Gwen and Hobie?”

“Gwen?” you and Mils exclaimed in unison. Her eyes widened at the sudden collective attention.

“Dude, what are you wearing?”

“Gwen, you’re a Spiderman–err, woman?”

“Okay, you’re seriously playing up the Spiderman jokes?” Miles deadpanned as he arched his neck to look at you.

You pulled a face before swinging your arms to gesture at five newcomers. “They’re literally here. Spiders, all of them!”

“I’ve never seen spiders stand on two feet.”

“Clearly, you haven’t seen a lot.” 

Miles sniffed with distaste. “Right. I’m gonna listen to someone with spikes on their head.”

“Miles!” you exclaimed with a harsh pinch to his cheek, then you turned to apologize. “I’m sorry. I think they look super cool.”

Taking a step forward, Gwen promptly eliminated the ongoing conversation by taking off her mask to reveal herself to you both. You tilted your head. She looked nothing like the Gwen you knew, and from her furrowed brows and darting eyes, she knew too. After a prolonged stare between you and Miles, the puzzles in her head piecing together, her relieved sigh was barely noticeable as realization hit her. She turned to her team with a shake of her head.

“This isn’t the Miles we’re looking for,” she said. “This is Miles from this Earth.”

“I knew that already,” Hobie smirked, hands in his pockets. “With the braids and all.”

Pavitr gasped with widening eyes. He pressed a hand to his chin and nodded. “Oh wow, I didn’t even register that. You look good, Miles!”

You punched Miles’s chest when he kept a brooding silence. He scoffed, smacked his teeth in dismay, then slurred out, “Thanks.”

“Okay, wait! Hold on, hold on!” Peter yelled without having gathered his thoughts. He shifted the weight of his legs, leaning on one hip, and pinched the bridge of his nose as a monotonous thinking noise churched out of his throat in a flat line. “But how? Our watch told us he was here. It gave us the signal that someone from Earth-1610 is here.”

“Someone is,” Gwen said. She turned around slowly, a look of uncertainty, then she pointed at you. “It’s them.”

None of them explicitly explained what they were talking about, but using your experiences and the confusing context clues, you could easily decipher the problem's gist. Something was happening on a multi-universal level. You didn’t know what exactly, but this felt to be a problem regarding that.  

“Gwen, I know you thought you explained the issue but you didn’t,” Peter muttered. He whipped his body around to you and held both hands in the air in a chopping motion. “Are you a Spiderman?”

“No.”

“Not you, big guy. You!”

“Oh, me?” You pointed at yourself for clarification and shook your head. “No, but there is one where I came from. Technically there are two, but the original one died, and he looked almost exactly like you! Just different hair color and… ski–never mind.”

“First of all, I had a feeling you were gonna call me fat. I’m not. I just look like a dad now, which I am. I have to clarify, okay? This is all dad weight, and this cutie-pie is my daughter, Mayday!” Peter said as he gestured toward himself and at Mayday. Then, he burst into a fit of confused noises. “Second, where you came from?” he repeated after you incredulously, paused for a brief moment, and then turned to Gwen, his eyes rolling. “Okay, yeah. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Psst… what are they talking about?” Pavitr whispered from the side, unknowingly having inched closer toward Hobie, who leaned down to his height for an explanation.

“That lad is Miles’s lookalike from this Earth. The one he’s clutching to him like a madman is from our Miles’s Earth, which is bonkers 'cause how did they even get here?”

“They’re not from here?” Pavitr widened his eyes. “That’s not good!”

“How so?” Hobie stood up straight.

“Oh, you know, with Miguel and everything,” Pavitr said as he twiddled his thumbs. “Actually, maybe not! I’m sure Miguel isn’t that obsessed about all of this.”

Just after his voice dropped, a portal emerged from behind where Miles stood. The second he noticed the faint glow flashing over his shadow, he jumped away to stand with the newcomers he was still wrecking his brain to familiarize himself with. You stared at the portal with wide eyes. Not once in your life have you seen technology like this, and when you glanced over at the others, you could see a certain dread on their face that peaked your heart rate. What got a bunch of Spider-people so agitated? It must be a real threat.

“Won’t you look at that,” Miguel appeared from the portal, his eyes looking as dead as usual. Following behind him were Jessica and Ben. “The whole gang is here.”

"How did you even find us?" Peter exclaimed in annoyance.

"Your watch, obviously." Miguel pointed at Peter's chest. "Your daughter took it.”

Peter gasped as he looked down at Mayday. He didn't notice it before, but sitting loosely around her wrist was the watch Miguel gave him that he took off before Gwen came to find him. He squeezed his eyes shut—shame on him for letting the same thing happen twice, even though neither was technically his fault.

Hobie breathed out a chuckle at Mayday before he elbowed Pavitr. “Do whatever you want, but I’m telling ya, you got to watch out for the things you say. You’re gonna jinx up the whole place like this.” Bringing his leg up so he could march over to Miles and stand behind him, he bent forward until his face was within Miles's earshot. "I suggest you run home now."

"What? Why?" Miles whispered, stepping away from the proximity. His attention shifted when Peter's obnoxious voice rang through the air.

"Jesus, Miguel! What do you want now?"

"The same thing you all want," Miguel said as he rubbed his wrist. He snapped his head over at Miles, who gulped when his gaze averted to look at you. He stared for a bit too long. "People who are not supposed to be here."

You. That man was talking about you. Miles didn't know what business he had. If anything, he thought himself a much bigger threat. But Miguel was looking at you when he spoke, so it must be.

He bolted the second he made that conclusion. He would deal with it if he later discovered he had come to the wrong one. For now, with the warning from a man whose words he could barely understand and a bunch of context clues he haphazardly strung together on the fly, he was unwilling to take any risk that would make him lose you. Wrapping his arms around your body to hold you into a hug rather than a carry, he instructed you to hang tight and took a few bold steps backward to the skyscraper edge so he could drop off its height.

"Wait, hold on, Miguel!" Peter shot his arm out to squeeze Miguel's shoulder when he saw that Miles would be followed. "You're after the wr–"

"Peter!" Gwen shot out a web aimed at Peter's back and immediately pulled him away from Miguel, preventing the man from telling the truth. Taking the slipping chance, the three slipped past in pursuit of you and Miles.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked incredulously, his eyes following the fading backs of his once colleagues.

Pavitr and Hobie approached them to catch up on their conversation. 

"Let Miguel chase him," she said sternly, her eyes fixated on Peter. "It works in our favor that he is occupied with the wrong Miles. It buys us some time to find our Miles."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no thoughts leaked out. Gwen's logic was sweet and sound. It would make everything so much easier for them if Miguel was temporarily out of the picture. But there was a pierce he felt, through his supposed moral compass, not at the blatant lie of omission he has to tell but at the fact that he would willingly send a grown man after two children, one of whom was just an ordinary civilian.

"Gwen, I don't feel like that's the right thing to do," he sighed.

"Maybe we can try to help both of them?" Pavitr suggested. "We can find Miles as fast as we can and then help the other Miles."

"They won't last," Peter said. "I don't know if that Miles has superpowers, but he's definitely not like us. I don't think their friend is capable of anything, either. Miguel will get to them before we can be done."

"You're saying if we want to help, we ought to do it now," Hobie sniffed.

"That's what I just said."

"I know. I was just repeatin' it."

"We can't afford to be distracted!" Gwen argued, her tone releasing from being firm to a pathetic, exasperated plead. "Don't forget, you're the one who exposed Miles's location in the first place. And now you've exposed ours!"

"Woah–Gwendy, calm down," Hobie said with a light pat on her shoulder. He spun to face Peter, humming at his distraught expression, then turned to meet in a general direction. "We're wasting an awful lotta time arguing about nothing. How about we get a move on, yeah? Pavitr's plan might work if we go now.”

"Yeah! I agree!" Pavitr clapped in agreement. “We just need to go in quick and come out even quicker!" 

“That made no sense,” Peter mumbled. 

“Maybe not to you.” Hobie shrugged.

“Focus, you guys!” Gwen hollered over the wind, catching everyone’s attention. She pursed her lips, her mind filled with a singular goal: save Miles Morales. “I’m going regardless of what you say," she said as she stepped to the edge of the skyscraper. Before she tipped over, she added, "I'm gonna save my Miles."

"Dramatic," Hobie chuckled with big strides forward, seemingly to follow after Gwen. "Better catch up, lads." He clicked his tongue confidently and mocked a salute as he fell off the edge. 

Miles was on the run. You already knew, but that fact punched you in the guts with even more velocity when you realized how quickly your surroundings were passing through. He was no longer holding you in an embrace-like position. After he made it down the skyscraper, Miles hoisted your upper body over his shoulder with his arms circled around your waist so he could better run at his regular speed, which you learned was abnormally fast, much different than the speed he picked when he was strolling around the area. 

Closing up behind you was a man in a Spider suit furiously galloping on all fours. You didn't even know they ran like that. You thought all Spider-people swung with their webs. Running like this may be faster than swinging around. Or perhaps the man's sheer will to catch the two of you amped up his speed. The only reason why Miles was able to periodically distance from Miguel was that he knew this Brooklyn like the back of his palm; all the detours and shortcuts were mapped in his brain, and he knew how to properly mix and match their usage. 

"Miles, he's crazy," you whispered, clutching his shoulders. "He's running like a wolf."

"Tu puta madre–" he spared a glance back and widened his eyes–"why is he chasing us? What did we even do?" 

Hopping off a building and into an alleyway, Miles slipped to the side and hid behind a wall. He pressed his back against the concrete wall to hide behind the shadow. 

The more he ran, the more he saw how it only delayed the consequence of getting caught. He could run home as suggested, but bringing trouble directly to his mother wasn’t ideal. On top of that, it may expose his prowler identity, which was the last thing he wanted. He could keep running, but eventually, he would get tired. He wouldn’t overestimate his ability to escape; a man that size running on all fours has the kind of stamina he could not rival. He had to fight with gimmicks to win, and his first option was to hide.

Taking the time to reposition you on his shoulder, apologizing with amusement when you shivered at his hands gliding past your hips to your waist, Miles carefully placed you back on the ground. When your feet hit the ground, he reached for the crown of your head, squeezing your head and trailing both hands down to your face. He pushed your face together, forcing you to pucker your lips. This was supposed to be a fun night. He felt terrible that this was how things led to. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

For the time being, you felt like you could be. His hands were warm, and his touch even warmer. 

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” You smiled bitterly once he let go of your face. “He’s here for me, but I don’t know why.”

You haven’t done anything. Even arriving on this Earth was not a purposeful doing. You made no significant changes to this Brooklyn; even if you tried to, you would not have succeeded. You regularly lived as you would have in the universe you came from; staying at home, doing house chores, learning how to cook, getting groceries, watching movies, maintaining a good friendship, and falling in love. None of those were criminal activities! You have done nothing remarkable for a random Spiderman to get so upset with you!

“Be honest, [Name],” Miles started, touching your shoulders. He took a deep breath before squinting. “Are you secretly a world-class criminal?”

“If jumping universes is a crime, then–“ You hummed thoughtfully before shaking your head in disagreement. “Yeah, no. I’d just be a regular criminal because I only jumped once, and it’s by accident, too.”

“Actually, I never asked, but how did you get here?”

You suppressed a burst of laughter. “Are we seriously gonna talk about this now?”

“My bad,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “is now a bad time?”

“A super bad–“ You screamed when a figure abruptly slid upside down beside you. Instinctively, the hand initially reaching for Miles’s face deflected from its path to punch the intruder in the face.

Ben swung slightly on his web, a curse pushed out of his mouth at the impact of your fist. He hadn’t registered you to be a big enough threat that he failed to block your sudden attack. If it had been Miles’s gloved claws swinging at him, he likely would have reacted. Miles smirked, almost feeling a sense of pride at the sheer strength of your punch. While you profusely apologized for doing something you didn’t mean to do, he grabbed your hand and ran down the alleyway. Mid-way through, he tugged harshly at your arm to bring you in front of him so he could scoop you up as he picked up his speed.

“I can actually run pretty fast,” you complained lightheartedly.

“For sure, baby,” he mused, his feet screeching for an abrupt right turn when he heard Ben’s voice calling after you both. 

However, just as he turned a corner, he was met with the wheel end of a motorcycle. Miles raised a hand up to grip the spinning tire. Before he could dig his claws through the material and pop it, he felt himself being pushed back by the heavy force, so he, tensing his arm muscles, attempted to deter the bike's path before the millisecond of him getting thrown back. His back hit a brick wall, knocking his senses everywhere for a brief moment as he haphazardly reached to cover your head. When he looked up, he was only met with the yellow shades of a woman in red. He huffed; if there was any indication that these people were getting fed up, it would be hitting him with a motorcycle.

“Jessica. You caught them!” Ben exclaimed as he emerged from the shadow, a hand massaging his chin that was pulled into a sneer. His voice was weirdly raspy as if he was playing up a character. “That stupid kid punched me. How dare they.”

“You showed up out of nowhere!” you retorted with an accusing finger pointed at him. “Also, shouldn’t you be able to block my punch? You’re Spiderman! You can’t block a punch from a teenager?”

“This kid is talking back to me. I feel a little distraught. I don’t know how to talk to children.”

“Shut up, Ben.” Jessica waved her hand before she turned to you both. She observed as Miles hopped back to his feet and glared at her. You looked less menacing, but your furrowed brows spoke caution and ready disobedience. She sighed. Another pair of moody teenagers. Miguel would not be happy about this. “Look, we don’t have time for this. You need to go back to where you belong.”

You pursed your lips in dismay and shook your head. Miles pushed you toward him when you circled your arms around his neck, and you slightly averted your gaze from the woman to avoid confrontation. Jessica squinted her eyes at the way you two held each other, a sudden inkling developing that she desperately wished to be wrong—you fell in love with someone from a different universe. She already felt bad enough about what had to be done to Gwen. There was no wrong in sticking to what she believed in. It was just unfortunate that she had to treat teenagers mercilessly to do so.

“You two can write letters to each other,” she said after gathering her thoughts and reverting to professionalism. Her job was to return all anomalies to their world, not limited to villains. Getting off her motorcycle, she slowly walked over to Miles, who didn’t get the sense of running away because of her regular speed. When she was within an arm’s length, she grabbed your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“No!” you refused and tried to shove her off, but she was persistent. 

“Dude, stop!” Miles attempted to step out of reach.

“Dude?” Jessica repeated with wide eyes. “Your mama taught you no manners?”

“His mom is great!” you exclaimed as you snatched your arm away from her grip. Your irritated eyes turned into a glare.

Miles nodded. “Yeah, she doesn’t throw a motorcycle at people’s faces.”

“Okay, I’ve had it.” Jessica laughed in disbelief. “I was trying to be nice, but that’s out the window now.”

Deciding to ignore her harsh tugs at your arm, you resorted to making sure you never let go of Miles instead. You intertwined your fingers that met at a point of his neck and buried your face to his shoulders, tuning out the world. Fear lingered in your chest like a haunting ghost, and it dimmed somewhat when you zeroed in on the feeling of Miles’s grip on your body. You were still here. He was still with you, holding onto you with a death grip. And you thought this might resolve itself eventually. Maybe these people would let you go if you two struggled enough together. Or perhaps it wouldn’t end well, but at least you held on as best as possible. At least you tried.

“Miles Morales.” Everyone paused to look behind Jessica’s shoulder. Miguel stood tall and alarmingly brutal just a few feet away. His dead eyes shifted from the boy to you, and he tipped his head into a brief greeting. “And you.”

Jessica took a deep breath; the real threat finally showed up. She released her hand from your arm and turned to face Miguel. There was something she wanted to say, not to deter Miguel from his plan to take you back to your Earth, but rather a few trying words to prevent him from executing any more brutality, especially when you were as harmless as a dove. The last thing Miguel should have on his conscience was inflicting injuries on a regular civilian. It would be good for him in the long run. Before she could open her mouth to speak, though, Miles buckled his knees and jumped up high. He was making a run for it again, but before his feet even touched the top of the wall separating the streets, his body barely turning away from anyone, a red string caught onto your wrist and snapped you out of his arms.

“¡Mierda!” 

He caught onto your ankles, engaging in a tug-of-war with Miguel that did nothing but put a strain on your limbs. Clicking his tongue, he gave one final hard tug at your feet before letting you go. You screamed, your body swinging toward Miguel at full speed while Miles, fully utilizing his boots, ran to sneak up behind the man and shoved him forward so Miguel would collide with your flinging body. Letting Miguel stumble in confusion and, out of instinct, reaching his arms out to catch you from a hard fall, Miles jumped forward and did the job for him. He secured you in his arms, wasting no time to bolt away. But Miguel was phenomenally quick to regain his senses, and his eyes glowed a bright red once he realized how difficult Miles was being.

He leaped forward, fangs and claws out to grab Miles by the back of his neck. As he swung the boy around, you dropped to the floor and knocked your forehead against the dirt. Miguel slammed Miles into the closest wall, denting the red bricks. He squeezes the poor boy's neck, not entirely cutting the air out of his system but suffocating just enough to make Miles feel outrageously uncomfortable.

"Ay, would you stop that, big man? You're gonna kill the kid!"

White webs shot out and attached to each of Miguel's wrists. He could recognize that godforsaken voice anywhere—Hobie Brown. Noticing the webs on his wrists, he groaned lowly in irritation. He might just snap (if he hasn't already, this madman) if he has to come across one more obstacle. Not allowing Hobie a second to pull him away, Miguel squeezed Miles's neck tighter to pull him out of the dented wall and threw him across the alleyway to the other side. The collision collapsed a hole through the bricks, creating an unnecessary ruckus.

"Now you've gone and done it," Hobie muttered, looking at the destruction. 

Your jaw dropped anxiously. You could faintly see Miles under the debris, showing no signs of getting up. He couldn't have died. Not only would that become a personal problem, you simply refused to believe a childhood superhero figure would kill someone you know and love. Scrambling to your feet with quickened breath, you took a weak step forward, his name hanging quietly at the tip of your tongue. When he didn't respond still, you tried to run towards him only to be pulled back at your wrist.

You looked behind your shoulder to find Miguel facing away from you. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost bone-breaking, to serve a warning. The same portal you saw him arrive in opened up, creating a gust of unnatural wind, and he was pulling you toward it. You attempted to break away, but he was much stronger. Nobody around seemed to be able to help you, not even Punk-looking Spiderman, so the only thing left to do was to hyperventilate for sympathy. This felt like an impending doom, where doom was actually just a few steps away on the other side of a portal. 

"Wait, please don't do this. I don't want to go home. I want to stay here!" you cried, a migraine developing from how you kept turning back and forth to look at Miguel and Miles. "Why are you doing this to me? Please stop, please!"

Sympathy rested in the hands of those who couldn't help. Miguel was as stoic as a rock to your pleads, and you somehow expected him to be. It was just heartbreaking to be proven right how difficult things could get. You kept sucking in deep breaths and forgetting to release them, causing your chest to expand awkwardly. You didn't know what to do, but you've got to try something! Anything! 

"Wait–I haven't said it! I haven't–" a deep breath–"I haven't said goodbye! I haven't said I love you! Let me say goodbye, and I promise–" another deep breath–"I promise I'll leave with you. Please. I promise, I cross my heart."

Miguel paused, and that mere action took everyone aback. He pursed his lips, a flicker of remorseful nostalgia showing in his eyes as he recalled the sudden death of his daughter. You didn't remind him of himself, but your wish was similar to what he would have asked for if he ever could re-experience the tragedy—he would want to say goodbye. He would like to tell his daughter he loved her. Heaving a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. At least you were cooperative; he felt he could be kinder in this case.

"Do not try anything stupid."

Once Miguel released your hand, you ran and fell on your knees next to Miles. Pushing the debris off his body, you scooped him onto your lap and caressed his face. Sniffing away a tearful voice, your voice ended croaking anyway when you called his name, "Miles?"

He opened his eyes meekly to see doubles. It took him a good minute to concentrate on your face, and he smirked when he did. The first instinct to take you and run away was defeated by a pained back and exhausted legs. He would not overestimate his ability, even through immense desperation. He wouldn’t get both of you far enough to not get served something worse. This appeared to be it.

”Mi cariño. Hey."

You laughed; you still had no idea what that meant. Miles refused to tell you, and he also got his mom in on it. But you figured it was a term of endearment. Miles took off his gloves to hold your hand, pressing your palm to his face as he stared at you. Somehow, he couldn't muster up the courage to cry despite the continuous drops in his chest. It could be a pride issue, or he didn't want you to see him suffer in your last minute together. Last for now, at least.

"You're going to leave me," he acknowledged.

"Not on purpose," you replied.

“I know,” he hummed. “You love me too much to do that.”

He had thought about it before. There must be people you were dying to go back to in your world. Not a classmate, no. Not even a friend. But a parent, perhaps? Family members? A pet, certainly? There has to be something waiting for you back in your home. There was no method for you to jump universes yet, but Miles figured if you were raging to go home, it would show. The fact that you blended into his life so casually and permanently, to a point where you memorized his schedules and knew where little trinkets were located in his apartment, told him you chose him over the life you used to have. Every day you woke up, you preferred a life with him in it rather than what you had before.

“You do love me, right?” Miles asked for assurance, his brows furrowing. “I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You squeezed his cheeks—gentle palms over bloodied skin, gentle palms over gentle skin. No more violence, not more crimes. He was but a boy you loved. He doubts your affection, and you would go home with him burned in the back of your head, finding his touch trapped beneath your flesh once stripped naked. From a universe away, Miles was all you would remember. Smiling, you peppered kisses over his brows, his eyes, his nose, and finally his mouth. When you pressed your forehead against his, you scrunched your nose and nodded. 

“I do love you, Miles.”

“Yay, score.” He chuckled, then his voice quieted down to a low hum only meant for you to hear. “I love you too, okay? Aqui y allá, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Time to go, kid!”

You smacked your lips and puffed an exhale. Running your knuckles down the side of Miles’s face, you nodded to yourself as an encouragement to get on your feet. Your feet budged, then your knees, but instead of standing up, you only shrunk your body closer toward Miles. You willed your voice to say a farewell, but it couldn’t under the threat that this goodbye would be your absolute last one, so you cried instead. Fat tears silently rolled down your chin, caught on your tongue, and forced you to choke on them.

Jessica rubbed her eyes as soon as her voice dropped. She shouldn’t have let Miguel talk her into breaking the moment. Instead of moving, you only leaned your body down and pressed Miles to your chest, hugging him. A passive protest, perhaps. You were not directly struggling but weren’t listening to them, either. She eyed Miguel when he sighed in defeat. He wondered which one was worse—chasing a rebellious kid with Spiderman powers or this. This one sure made him feel like the bad guy if anything. 

He reached for a portable trap box and threw it toward you without hesitation. Before it could reach you, though, a web shot out and pulled it backward, causing the gadget hit Miguel in the face.

“You need to reconsider your morals,” Hobie said in a scolding tone as he walked up from behind everyone. “Trapping a kid in a box. Are you mental?”

He has been watching everything unfold from the shadows, and clearly, he realized the differences in how he saw you and how the other three saw you. Your lack of cooperation was a sign of rebellion, which could be considered so to a certain degree. But Hobie knew to consider other factors; he looked at the bigger picture. There was nothing you could do here, literally. One web shoot and you’d be caught, and you probably already knew that. Your so-called sign of rebellion was less chosen and more forced by the hands of emotional turmoil. You were about to be separated from the boy you were in love with. It would make sense that you were physically unable to be the person to walk away.  

If you were going to leave Miles Morales, you must be taken and nothing else. You stood by not leaving him intentionally. Miguel was going to do that for you, but Hobie decided to take a much gentler approach. Trapping you in a box when you’ve done nothing wrong was, as he said, fucking mental. 

“Don’t struggle, yeah? It makes me uncomfortable,” Hobie muttered as he reached for your waist and pulled you up. He slapped his hands on your shoulders dramatically and turned you around. “The portal is gonna feel doozy. You might vomit. If you feel like you’ll vomit, do it when we arrive at HQ. Preferably all over the floor. Just splatter it around like a sprinkler.”

“Huh…?” You did a double-take at what he said. “That’s disgusting.”

“Vomiting? Yeah. Vomiting on an establishment?” He hummed and tilted his head. “Debatable.”

“I’m sorry, but I really am having a hard time understanding you, Spiderman,” you said, your sobs increasing because you thought Hobie might take it as an insult. 

“Why are you apologizing? You haven’t said anything you shouldn’t,” he said, the panic in his voice unnoticeable. “Also, call me Hobie, not Spiderman.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed your eyes as if to produce more tears, “I know that’s your name. I just didn’t use it because we’re not close.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hobie mused, a hand slipping from the top of your head as a makeshift pat. “I’m more friends with you than those three over there.”

You let the faintest giggle of disbelief escape your lips and turned back to Miles. Hobie continued to pull you away from the floor and toward the portal, not taking a moment’s rest. You didn’t struggle against him; eventually, your hand slipped from Miles’s.

[moonchild1]

AO3 List PT.2

here's part 2 of my favourite bts fics on ao3 ♡ if you have any of your own recommendations feel free to tell me I would love to hear them ♡ some contain smut so no minors do not interact find pt. 1 here...

s- smut a- angst f- fluff

all of btssmutgalore’s work (sadly they aren’t on tumblr anymore)

all of univsa work

all of personasintro's work

roommates with benefits by joonswhistle f s a

↬ You and Namjoon are roommates. You're both really horny one morning. So you come to an understanding:

1. It's not a regular thing.

2. It happens on the couch.

3. Kissing is allowed.

4. Condoms, always.And just like that, you're roommates with benefits

seoul underground by hunniejimins s a ft. jungkook

↬ You're a crime & corruption journalist for one of the most esteemed newspapers in Seoul currently investigating drug trafficking in Hong Kong. A hit is taken out on you and as a twisted stroke of luck, a member of a rival gang inadvertently saves you - Jeon Jungkook. He kidnaps you and brings you to the gang's kingpin, Kim Namjoon, who initially had plans to kill you, but a certain bracelet ends up buying you time. Things only get further complicated when they realize who you are and what you can offer them.

OR

Namjoon and Jungkook both fall in love with you and it's a mess, but monogamy is overrated anyway, right?

Covenant by fringesofsanity f s a

↬ You are betrothed to Kim Namjoon, the heir of a real estate mogul. To say that it was a fairytale romance would be erroneous. You’re instead loped in the sad tale of the rich and melancholy.

Faith by AndrastesChosen f s a

↬ It's time to let yourself believe in someone. You're probably an idiot for it, but you're going to put your faith in this man named Namjoon. (AKA You fall in love with underground rapper Namjoon and make a difficult choice so he can follow his dreams)

Partners by btssmutgalore f s a

↬ As a part of a literature assignment, you get paired up with Kim Namjoon, a guy you’ve never even heard of.

the wedding arrangement by sugalights f s a

↬ You are in love with your best friend, the only man who matters, Kim Seokjin. Unfortunately, he's just gotten engaged to someone who isn’t you. Even more unfortunately, he expects you to help plan the wedding alongside Kim Namjoon, his other best friend and, based on your first meeting, just another judgemental jerk. Putting aside your distaste for the sake of your friend’s happiness, you both set about giving Seokjin the wedding of his dreams. Following a rough and satisfying affair at the caterer’s, you strike an unusual deal: you and Namjoon will be enemies with benefits until the wedding is over. And after six months of wedding planning, you both just might learn that weddings aren’t usually the end, but a brand new beginning.

formula for love by bluesxde f s a

↬ newly single and in the midst of a bitter divorce, with a custody battle thrown in, chemistry professor kim seokjin tries not to fall in love with the new library assistant. and fails, horribly

The Stranger by btssmutgalore f s a

↬ When your plane hits turbulence, you start panicking and tell some of your biggest secrets to the attractive stranger sitting next to you.

Before Your Very Eyes by vyduan f s a ft. myg poly au

↬ After decades of being friends, Y/N finally realizes just how attractive Yoongi and Seokjin are and wonders why she never noticed. Except, Seokjin might be getting back with an ex and Yoongi is a permanent fuckboy. Is Y/N just desperate to get laid or does she love them? (And if she loves them, is she too late?) Oh, and also, THEY WERE ROOMMATES (but there are three beds)

Amalthea by Daechwitatamic s a

↬ You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Paris For A Day by automnesleaves f a

↬ On his last stop of his European tour to spread Korean culture, Kim Seokjin, the South Korean president's son, plans to escape his duties for a day to enjoy the sights of Paris with your help.

In other words: a slight adaptation of Roman Holiday, one of my favorite romantic films.

arranged by obiwrites f s a

↬ If you thought entering an arranged marriage with the person you love would be a dream, you were in for a rude awakening. Jung Hoseok was far from the doting husband you’d dreamed of and most of it could be chalked up to the fact that he was in love with his best friend. And you are without a shadow of a doubt, not her. But what happens when Hoseok starts to realize he doesn’t want you to be her? That there might be more than meets the eye with you?

piece by piece by underthejoon f s a ft seokjin

↬ a collection of drabbles where your love life is muddied up by two men – the one you love and the one that loves you.

tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love) by minlouvre f s

↬ Even though he is everything you find attractive in a man, your friend and co-worker Jung Hoseok is just exactly that - a friend and co-worker. For some reason, you have never found yourself attracted to him even though all the girls and guys around you go absolutely crazy for him. But that all changes for you one night while scrolling through Heart2Heart, a sex live cam website...

the december of our adulthood by vyduan a

↬ Jimin collapsed all over you and the middle console from his seat in a fit of giggles and did his best to tease a smile back onto your face. “Thanks for picking me up so early on a Saturday morning, Y/N. You’re the best friend a guy could ever have.” Even after all these years, you couldn’t control the dip of disappointment at his words. It wasn’t that you didn’t love being Jimin’s best friend. It was more that you knew you would never be anything more. You grunted in acknowledgment and pushed the sadness down, burying it under years of practice and half truths. You would be content with what you had. You would be satisfied with the love Jimin was willing and able to give. You were not entitled to anything more. It was enough. It was enough. It was never enough.

[cherrybomb107]

Okay, so, y’all already know I’m one of “those” Jinx stans(I don’t think she did anything truly monstrous and would defend her with my life). I feel this way for two main reasons: I see myself in her, and my personal biases kick in when it comes to my girl.

Now, I don’t consume fiction to make moralistic judgments of the characters; I’m here to have fun and be entertained. But, because stan culture has affected us all and made fandom discussions so personal and emotionally charged, I’ll bite. There are ppl in this fandom who won’t even call Silco a proper villain because of how nuanced he is. As if two things can’t be true; it is perfectly possible to be both nuanced AND a villain. Yet this same sympathy is not always expressed when talking about Jinx. Why is that?

Answer: misogyny and the demonizing of ppl with mental illness imo. Cause that’s the only plausible explanation I’m willing to accept why so many think of Jinx as a monster for killing cops, gang members, and asshole politicians, yet give all the grace in the world to Silco, who flooded the Lanes with Shimmer, had children working in his factories, was ready and willing to kill Powder before she hugged him, and waxed poetic about revolution when he never had any real plans of helping Zaun. He just wanted to be in charge. Like I said, I don’t consume fiction to make moralist judgments of the characters. But Silco’s actions are WAYYYY worse than Jinx’s, by a long shot.

And to my second point: my personal feelings. Disclaimer: ofc I don’t think killing ppl is right, nor am I an advocate for mindless slaughter. However, that is not what Jinx does. Her views on violence are incredibly warped due to the environment she grew up in. But even still, she NEVER harms innocent, non-combatants, much as some parts of this fandom likes to act like she does. I love the Firelights! I sympathize with their plight! But, they are literally a gang. And the ones that Ekko rolls with(Scar and the others) have inserted themselves into armed conflicts with Jinx before. They have been shown to be willing to use lethal force.

Silco is a drug kingpin. Jinx is his daughter. So no, I don’t think the daughter of a drug lord engaging in armed conflict with gang members makes her “monstrous”. It’s a street fight. Anything goes. If you pull up with bats and fists, and somebody else pull up guns ablazing, I do think that they’re responsible for escalating the conflict. I also think that in a street fight, you can’t pull up on someone and expect them to abide by the rules you set for yourself, yk? To continue this, as I said, the Firelights were willing to use lethal force. In episode six, when they interrupted Vi and Jinx’s reuinion, Scar knocked Vi out cold. He then raised his spear and was about to stab her in the back before Ekko stopped him. They then proceeded to kidnap Vi and Caitlyn. All of this because they followed Vi and THOUGHT that she was working for Silco! Is assaulting, almost killing, and kidnapping someone just because of your suspicions not “monstrous”? Or is it different because the Firelights are the “good guys”?

Now onto the Enforcers. Jinx sees the Enforcers as monsters who killed her parents right in front of her, and brutalized Zaunites all throughout her childhood. I know the show is fictional, but it touches on real life political themes. And our real life experiences inform how we consume fiction. I’m Black, female, queer, and from the US. The Enforcers are incredibly reminiscent of cops in my country. And if you know anything about the history of policing in this country, then you’d understand why I don’t give nary a fuck, nor a shit, nor a damn that Jinx kills Enforcers. Same sentiment applies to the Council. Fuck em🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

Tldr: I don’t think killing someone is the worst thing you can do to them. It’s about who you kill and how you do it. Jinx quickly kills cops, gang members, and politicians. I never have, nor will I ever, consider her doing so “monstrous”

[6rookie-writer0110]

Dating Tara Carpenter as Spider-Woman would include…

•At the beginning of the relationship, you didn't know Tara was Spider-Woman.

•She didn't like that she was lying to you.

•But Tara did notice the action figures you have of Spider-Woman etc.

•Tara would lie about why she has to leave and you would believe her.

• Most of the time, Tara would spend time at your place.

•Tara is always affectionate with you.

•You and Tara are always kissing each other.

•You and Tara have a lot of inside jokes.

•When you are staying at her apartment, she would hide anything Spider-Woman-related.

• One-time fighting criminals, Tara got a scar on her hand. She lied to you about how she got it.

•Tara has saved you twice as Spider-Woman

•Kingpin threatened her to hurt you.

•Tara broke up with you and lied that she wasn't in love with you.

•That broke your heart and you didn't want anything to do with her.

•You blocked her phone number and on social media.

•She felt horrible that she lied to you. She is still in love with you.

•You avoided everyone and just stayed in your bedroom.

•She tried to call and text but she figured out that you blocked her phone number.

•Two months you haven't spoken to Tara.

•Kingpin kidnapped you.

•Tara teamed up with Peter Parker & Yelena Belova.

•Kingpin told you that your ex-girlfriend is Spider-Woman and you didn't believe him.

•But she told you and you are speechless.

•Tara hopes that you don't hate her.

•After saving you. You and Tara did have a serious conversation.

•But you are still feeling hurt by what she said when she broke up with you.

•She understood and she gave you space.

•But you did unblock her phone number and social media.

•There were times, you and Tara would hesitate to contact each other but it didn't happen.

[darkenamour]

Platonic Daddy! Yandere! Wilson Fisk x Little! Willing! Reader x Reluctant! Platonic Mommy! Vanessa Fisk

This was messily written. I wrote as it came to me. I will edit this.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Gun Violence, Violence, Human Trafficking, Yandere Behavior, Forced Relationships, Forced Breastfeeding.

KingPin (DareDevil series/comics) inspired.

Summary: You started working in a shady restaurant and met a scary regular. Somehow you ended up kidnapped and with a new set of "parents"

You were just a waiter at a restaurant, nobody really. All you did was wait tables all day at some restaurant that never had a full house since you've worked there. One man was a regular, he would come in four times a week for dinner. He wasn't the only regular, but he was the most memorable regular. With his enormous height, heavyset body, complete bald head, stark white suit, and bright blue eyes, he was utterly noticeable.

The only other waiter, the first time he came, was intimidated by his physique so you had to be the one to take his order. The man looked so tired, as if he just woken up, and it compelled you to give him a cup of coffee on the house. He ordered two different plates and a fountain drink, of which he had three refills. You waited on him like any other person, cracked a few jokes, and wished him a good day. Before he left, his plates and cup empty, he personally gave you a tip and thanked you for the coffee. The tip was a fifty dollar bill.

It wasn't completely unknown to you that more unsavory people would come into the restaurant. Ranging from small-time thugs to ring leaders of criminal organizations. It was a blessing and a curse for the restaurant and its employees. Everyone actually paid for their meals, some would leave big tips like the man, and it kept the business going. There would be times someone would get too much and create a ruckus, once there was a shoot out once, which you thankfully didn't witness. Because of the danger you were able to easily get a job, a job you desperately needed.

Ever since you graduated, you haven't been able to land a job due to inexperience. As the years went by you were desperate to find a way to no longer be a burden on your family. So you decided to walk around the more dangerous parts of the city and found a help wanted sign in the window. Your coworkers were great, the chefs were friendly enough, and your boss, the owner, gave you a decent wage. It was truly a blessing even if the environment was dangerous.

It had been six months of working, two months of knowing your memorable regular ("Call me Wilson."), when you witnessed your first shooting. A customer was complaining about their food, a street thug, and gave your coworker a hard time. Your regular, the large man, was just about to tell you his order when a shot rang out. The thug had just shot your coworker, your friend, and your fight or flight response came in. You were in fight mode.

Grabbing the first empty chair in arms reach, you slammed the chair on the back of the fleeing thug's head. They went down hard, dropping their gun, and cursing you. Their two friends got out their own guns and pointed at you, before they could shoot, a large shadow towered over you.

"Now, that's no way to treat a lovely lady." Wilson, your regular, said in a gravelly voice. The others paled and lowered their guns.

"Lovely lady my ass, she busted my skull open." The thug on the ground shouted, still turning around holding his head. "I'm gonna fucking kill the bitch." As he turned around and saw Wilson, he also paled. "Mr. Fisk, sir, I didn't see you there." He stammered.

Your friend groaned, holding their side, you dropped the chair and went to their side. It looked like they were shot in the leg, you took off your apron and put pressure on the wound.

"Look, I didn't know you came to this joint." The thug continued to stammer. Ambulance and police sirens could be heard outside. "Listen, I'll never come back to this place, I promise."

"That's a promise you can keep behind bars." You heard the guy scramble, a loud wet crunch, and a scream. You looked up to see Wilson stepping the thug's hand, that was reaching for his gun. His friends ran out in a panic, the police came in to take the thug and question everyone. Your friend was taken to the hospital.

When your family heard what happened, they begged you to quit, find another job. You compromised with them, sending your resume to different job openings, only quitting when somewhere else hires you. Wilson still stayed a regular, still giving you large tips, and your coworker came back a month later. Everything went back to normal, but you never received a call back from the places you applied.

When it was your anniversary of working at the restaurant, your coworkers set up a small party after closing. It was dark when everyone started to go home. As you approached your car someone behind you covered your face with a cloth and your world went dark.

Voices shouted around you as you woke up.

"I'm just saying this is a bad idea."

"Please, that Chinese bitch asked for girls, she didn't say from where."

"But, the Kingpin's rules."

"I don't give a shit about his rules. He broke my fucking hand and almost sent me to prison. All over some fat bitch in a shitty joint."

You noticed you were tied up and your mouth was taped shut. You were in the back of a van with two other girls in the same position. One girl started to panic and screamed behind her closed mouth.

"Shut them the fuck up." You look up and notice the thug that shot your coworker and his friends.

The one sitting in the back took out a needle syringe and injected the screaming girl with it. After a while the girl went limp.

"Shot them all up, we're almost there and I don't want any of them struggling." After a sharp pinch the world was no more.

The next time you woke up, you were naked and in a room with other girls. They were either naked like you, or wore plain lingerie that barely covered anything. After a while someone threw a bag filled with plain lingerie, and you noticed you, and other bigger girls, were the only one left without clothes. Later water bottles were thrown in, only enough for half of the girls. Some girls were selfish and hogged a whole bottle, others shared. What felt like a whole day, a few buffer men came in and took a few girls by force. The next day more men came in to take more girls. It kept repeating, after the fifth time you and the other bigger girls got lingerie. More girls were brought in.

After what felt like two weeks, you were nibbling on some stale bread when they took all the bigger girls. You were terrified, wondering what will happen to you. You and girls were lined up in front of a group of people, a girl squeezed your hand and you squeezed back. When you looked around, you were surprised to see Wilson in the group. He also seemed surprised when his eyes landed on you.

"As you can see Mr. Fisk, we in fact respect your wishes." An Asian man in front of an elderly woman said. She was sitting in a chair and said something in her native tongue. "I always make sure to leave your territory alone, never picking from your fields."

"Is that so?" Wilson said. He stepped forward and took out his hand. "Come here, y/n." He called out. You clutched onto the other girl. "It's all right, sweetheart, I'm here to take you home."

The old woman shouted. "I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaking the merchandise for someone else." The man then tried soothing the old woman in their native tongue.

You felt your eyes water at being called merchandise, you were a human, not a thing. Wilson called out your name again. You let go of the girl. He said he would take you home and you wanted to go home.

When you reached him, you threw your arms around his middle and cried into his chest. He patted your head and rubbed your back. "It's alright, it's alright. Now tell me, who brought you here?"

"The guy that shot my friend and his friends." You said between sobs.

"My poor little sunshine, you must have been so scared." He kissed the top of your hair. "Don't worry, everything will be alright now." He used his strength to leave you in his arms. You buried your face in his shoulder, clutching the front of his suit. "You broke our deal."

The woman shouted. "We had no idea she was one of yours. Whoever brought her to us is at fault." The man translated.

"Whoever brought her here was under your orders. " He started to walk away. "I expect compensation for the kidnapping of my daughter." There was a sharp inhale. Daughter, why did he call you his daughter?

He brought you to his limo and settled you in his lap, covering you with his jacket. "It's alright, princess. Once we get home you'll have a nice bath, a warm meal, and I'll tuck you in bed. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your body felt numb, but nodded. Finally getting clean, real food, and a bed sounded like a dream. You pressed close to him to get warm.

When he carried you out of the limo, you didn't recognize your surroundings. He took you to what looked like a luxury apartment complex. Taking the elevator, he pressed the top floor button. It looked like his private condo took up the whole floor.

He finally sat you down in a chair in the bathroom. He filled the overly large tub with warm water and bubbles. When the tub was full you expected him to leave, but instead he started to take off the lingerie you wore. You shrieked and scooted away from him.

"It's alright, sweetie. I know you're scared, but you should let daddy take care of you." He said.

"I can wash myself." You stammered back.

"I know you're my big girl, but daddy hasn't seen you in days." He grabbed your arm, preventing you from moving away. Taking off the last bit of article that covered you, he picked you up and placed you in the tub. Grabbing a washcloth he started to scrub your body. You jumped at that.

"Please, I can wash myself." You cried.

"No, no," he shook his head, "I said I was going to take care of you. Daddy will make everything better and you'll get to see your friends tomorrow. Doesn't that sound fun?"

It scared you, having a large man handle you. You had no idea why he kept calling himself "daddy", or why he was insistent on treating you like a child. He was just a regular at the restaurant you work at. You decided to comply. If a man could easily carry someone like you around, who knows what else he could do.

When he finished giving you a bath he picked you up from the tub, wrapped in a large towel, and carried you to a bedroom. He placed you on a bed and dressed you in childish looking underwear and soft pajamas with your favorite childhood characters. Not only was it embarrassing, but it had you questioning why the man had such clothing in your exact size. He picked you back up and sat you at a dining table.

"You sit there while daddy gets you your favorite soup." When he left for the kitchen, you debated on whether or not to try to leave. You decided against it, you had no clue where you were and he did say you were going to see your friends tomorrow. Maybe he wasn't that bad of a man, maybe this was his strange way comforting you.

As promised, he came back with a bowl of your favorite soup and a juice box. Before you could grab the spoon yourself, he lifted the spoon to your face. "Open wide." He looked at you expectantly.

"I can feed myself." You stuttered, feeling your cheeks blush. You looked at the ground embarrassed at the situation even more.

He placed a hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him. Looking up, you felt smaller than you ever had, especially with his large stature. "Just let daddy spoil you, ok?" Once again, you wordlessly nodded, afraid of what might happen if you said no.

He fed you like a baby, wiping your face after each spoonful, and occasionally held up the juice box for you to drink from. When the bowl was completely empty, he picked you up again. "It's time for bed."

He took you to the same bedroom as before. You finally looked around and saw what looked like a child's bedroom. Your favorite color painted the walls, shelves filled with children's books, a desk covered in coloring books and crayons, a toy box, childish furniture, and a bed with sheets covered in your favorite childhood characters. It made you bewildered why the man had such a room in the first place.

As he tucked you in bed, he gave your forehead a kiss. "Sleep tight my little princess. Daddy has to take care of business, but if you need anything the nanny will be just outside, ok?"

"Ok." You said automatically.Nanny? So he's keeping a guard on you? There goes your ability to escape and go back home to your family.

Finally laying on a soft bed after days of barely sleeping on the floor, you eventually feel asleep. By morning Wilson was waking you up. He took you to the bathroom to do your business, without leaving, and gave you a brightly colored toothbrush. Today's saving grace was that he allowed you to walk, but held onto your hand. He still changed your clothes, putting on something that you would normally wear. You ate breakfast without help and he took you to work via a chauffeur.

Before you could jump out of the car, Wilson asked for a kiss. So close to freedom, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. He finally let you go after he gave his own kiss and wished you a good day.

When you walked into the restaurant, you were ambushed by your coworkers once they saw you. Apparently Wilson told them he would bring you back, but they didn't believe it. The owner asked if you actually wanted to work today. You told them that you wanted to go home, since you hadn't seen your family yet. They took you home.

Your family was overwhelmed when they saw you, you all cried. They called the police to inform them you returned and they came to question you. You gave them the descriptions of the three men that took you and two people that were behind it. You didn't mention Wilson picking you up, only saying you managed to escape and run into someone who helped you.

After winding down, you had a celebratory lunch with your family for your safe return. No one went to work that day and held onto you tight. When it was a little past your working shift, a knock came from the door. When a knock came from the door, you were surprised to see Wilson at the door when a family member opened it. When he asked for you, your family was suspicious of him. You blurted out that he was the one that helped you, that made the family welcome him in open arms. They insisted he stay for dinner, to show their appreciation.

The women, and few of the men, were in the kitchen preparing traditional dishes for an army. Wilson sat with you on the couch, your family treated him like he was a part of the family. When he placed an arm over your shoulder, some of your family members gave a teasing glance. They were the ones insistenting you should have been married already. If only they knew he didn't see you as a lover, but as a daughter.

You couldn't help but cuddle into his side, enjoying the feeling of being small. You haven't felt small in years, you usually were the biggest person in the room. When dinner was ready, you began insisting that your favorite food was the best. You plated most of the food for Wilson, almost forgetting his strange nature from yesterday. When the day winded down, only your closest family members stayed over. Wilson left as well, you gave him a hug goodbye.

It took two days for you to return to work, you were grateful that you even still had a job. Wilson came in that day for lunch. When no one was looking, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. He seemed surprised by that. When he finished, he gave you your usual tip and a note that asked you to come home with him during the weekend.

You felt nervous and questioned your sanity for actually going to his place. He babies you the whole weekend, treating you like a toddler. You enjoyed cuddling with him on the couch while watching children's movies and shows, when he fed you, when he changed you, when he carried you around, and when he would call you nicknames. Your "nanny" was someone called Hildy, a no nonsense woman that treated you like a child without asking questions. It made you feel carefree, like you had nothing to worry about for about two and a half days.

It was a routine for about a year, your family thought you were dating, your coworkers never questioned Wilson's behavior towards you. You never once imagined that you would be in the situation you found yourself in. One morning, when Wilson left for "business," you groggily got out of bed to ask Hildy for a glass of water. A woman was in the living room with her, demanding where Wilson was. When she looked at you, with your bed hair, she assumed you were sleeping with him. You made a face at that. "Gross, he's my daddy." You told her. Later you were properly introduced to Vanessa.

Vanessa did not accept the type of relationship you had with her boyfriend. Well, not at first. After your third week, she saw everything that Wilson did with you. She was still hesitant, but you guess Wilson told her something because she started to join him for lunch at your workplace. You treated them like normal customers and she seemed nervous the whole time. The next weekend, Wilson had her feed you and read you a bedtime story. The next week he had her change your clothes and cuddle you while watching tv. Then it escalated to her bathing you. She tried to touch you in a sexual manner while bathing you, you screeched and cried like a child. Wilson was angry at her and kicked her out. You didn't see her for two weeks.

The next time you saw her, she apologized and promised to never do that again, you were weary of her. You clung to Wilson whenever she was around, hiding behind him, hiding behind daddy. He kept you safe. But he wanted Vanessa to be your mommy. When it seemed like you weren't getting used to her, something happened.

When you entered the condo after being picked up from work, you noticed Vanessa waiting on the couch. She was wearing a loose button up, and gestured you to her lap. Daddy didn't let you hide behind him, he picked you up and sat you on her lap. You started to cry, wondering what was happening. "She's just being fussy, aren't you princess?" Daddy cooed. "Our poor baby must be hungry. Don't you think so, honey?"

"Yes." Vanessa stammered.

"Well, aren't you going to feed her?" Vanessa started to clumsy unbutton her shirt. You wanted to panic, to pull away from her, but daddy kept you in place. Vanessa exposed one of her breasts.

"Here, eat." She tried to push her breast into your force. Daddy stopped her and scowled.

"Don't force it, let her latch naturally." He patted your head and adjusted you so your head was next to her breast. "Come on sweetheart, aren't you hungry?" He encouraged. "Has daddy ever let you astray?" No, daddy has never let anything, or anyone, hurt you.

Shyly, you latched onto her nipple, she gasped and daddy praised you. As you sucked, you tasted something sweet and warm. You sucked harder and more of the sweet nectar came rushing into your mouth. Vanessa was lactating! "That's a good girl, eating without a fuss." Daddy praised. "And mommy is being so good at feeding our precious baby."

You could hear Vanessa cry, but you didn't let it bother you. You were hungry and she was feeding you yummy milk. When her breast was empty, you whined for more. Daddy took out her other breast since Vanessa was still crying. You drank until you sucked her dry. Happily humming with a full stomach, you nuzzled into your new mommy. She gave you nice warm milk and daddy said she was mommy. Your weekends now included drinking milk from mommy, who cried from happiness at being able to feed her baby.

[softsan]

˚ 🥀⊹ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄. (𝐩𝐭.𝟒)

✉️ ・ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

✉️ ・ ── 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

✉️ ・ ── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Taeyong, Queenpin!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Childhood friends, Betrayal, Enemies to lovers, Eventual Smut. ✉️ ・ ── 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:  You were the only surviving heir of the old-time Mafia kingpin that had ruled the four territories. You were long thought to be dead, living the normal life you had always wanted...Until you run into a Taeyong, a formidable ghost from your past. You are then thrown back into the Mafia underbelly, reuniting with enemies you had hoped had forgotten you. Will you run away? Will you stand beside Taeyong, kingpin of the North, and be his queen? Or will you take your rightful revenge.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Possessive Themes, Future Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Kidnapping, Strangulation, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

Past.

A dream. This must all be a dream.

An older man sporting a beard took a seat beside your hospital bed. His forehead was creased, his knuckles white from holding onto the chair’s arms too tightly.

You let out a sudden gasp, your eyes bursting open. Your pupils beaded around the room in an attempt to establish your surroundings.

Where am I? Your cracked lips, slightly parting.

“Don’t try to speak,” The bearded man stood up immediately, “You're okay,” He reached for your bruised hand to offer you some comfort.  

You flinched, your face twisting with fright.

The bearded man hastily retracted his hand, the creases on his forehead increasing, “Please don’t be startled. We won’t hurt you.” He pointed to himself, and the young girl seated across from you, “I promise.”

You didn’t believe in promises. Not anymore. Nonetheless, you studied the young girl who was sitting cross-legged. She appeared to be a couple of years younger than you. She was softly humming, preoccupied with what looked like a miniature electrical motor. She had disassembled the metal parts and was bending and shaping the wires with a pair of eyebrow tweezers. The lack of attention she heeded towards you, made you feel a little better.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, honey,” The bearded man told his daughter, noting your interest.

“Yebin,” She mumbled, sparing you a short glance.

“We were the ones that found you,” The bearded man continued, “We were the ones to bring you to the hospital," He gave a short pause, "Do you remember?”

You didn’t. You tried to shake your head from side to side, however, you were prevented by a searing pain that ran down your neck.

The barbed wire. Your weak wrist lifted your trembling hand, to the base of your neck. It was wrapped in bandages and supported by a brace.

“This isn’t a dream,” Your voice came out dry and coarse.

The man’s eyes lowered, and his brow knitted together.

“No this isn’t a dream, dear.” He eventually replied.

Your home. Your family.

Your eyes began to water, you closed them to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks.

Everything you had ever loved was now gone. 

Present.

His arm loosely rested over yours. He slept soundlessly beside you, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. You banished the urge to stroke down his nose.

His features were sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced than you remembered.

Taeyong’s phone vibrated from his shirt pocket. He grumbled, vexed to be awoken from his peaceful slumber. He yawned, slowly opening his eyes.

Your eyes locked onto his, his gaze softening at the sight of you.  

He bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. He never imagined he would one day wake up to such a cherished sight.

“Your phone is ringing.” You finally commented, breaking the silence.

Taeyong sighed, digging for his phone, and placing it against his ear.

You watched his expression change. Something had gone very wrong.

“I’ll be there.” He gritted through his teeth.

Never in a million years would he foresee something like this occurring. He hung up the phone, gently untangling his limbs from yours.

“I have to go.” He said regrettably.

You had watched how Taeyong’s face had darkened, you were almost compelled to ask him what had happened. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait too long to find out.  

“There’s an incident on the grounds, an intruder…” He mumbled, sitting upright, “I should be back soon.” He looked for his shoes.

What he had left out was that the intruder had been shot and was now bleeding out. Mark was now at the scene trying to calm a hysterical Haechan who had tried to shield the intruder from the firing guards.

He’s leaving? Your mind was spinning, it would be the first time in days since he’d left you alone. If you had any chance at an escape, it had to be now.

“Can I take a shower?” You quickly pipped, noticing how he had picked up the restraints he’d previously used to tie you up.

Taeyong paused, a hint of suspicion behind his gaze.

“Please,” You sat up, “I’ll just use your bathroom.” You pointed to the connecting ensuite.

“You won’t try anything stupid?”

“I won’t.” You battered your eyelashes.

“There are guards just outside your door.” He warned, “I’ve also installed bars on the windows and barricaded the balcony.”

You didn’t respond.  

He finally nodded, “There are some towels in the cupboard. I’ll be only gone for a little bit.”

He hesitantly left you, his face trained on you as he closed the door behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief, hopping off the bed immediately.

You cast around Taeyong’s room, double-checking the windows. Alas, Taeyong was right, he had indeed blocked off any possible exit. You began foraging on shelves and looking through drawers. You were searching for anything that could aid you, something that could at least offer you some kind of leverage.

You entered Taeyong's bathroom. It was spotless, from the polished marble tiles to the neatly organized toiletries. If you could perhaps get your hands on a weapon? Could you possibly get Taeyong in a vulnerable position and negotiate your freedom?

In desperation, your eyes circled the mirror. You inwardly groaned, disliking the idea that came to mind.

Nonetheless, you decided to follow through. You turned on the knob for the shower. Steam gushed into the air, as water droplets sprayed onto your arms. You hoped the running water would drown out the sound of what you planned to do next.  

You reached for a relatively full bottle of shampoo and a hand towel, wrapping the towel around your knuckles.

As hard as you can. You demanded yourself, smashing the shampoo bottle in the bottom corner of the bathroom’s mirror. Your hand protested, a striking hot jolt running down your wrists. Your hands were still in bad shape from your last failed getaway.

After some hard jabs, a crack lacerated up the mirror’s surface. You continued until you were able to snap off a jagged piece.

“I’ve done it.” You commented in disbelief, “I’ve actually done it.”

You looked back at the cracked mirror. A pair of dreadful eyes leering from behind you. Your blood ran cold.  

“Y/N” The stranger almost sang your name.

Past.

“What’s this old thing?” Johnny twirled around a raggedy handbook.

Johnny let out a squawk. Taeyong had not so graciously pushed Johnny off his stool, snatching back his book.

Johnny scrambled back to his feet, exchanging bewildered looks with their retrieval specialist Jaehyun.

“What’s inside?”

“None of your business.” Taeyong dusted the cover, carefully tucking it inside his suit jacket.

“Now I’m even more curious,” Johnny whined. “Let us have a look!”

Taeyong waved a hand to dismiss them both.

“Let’s go, he’s clearly not in the mood,” Jaehyun clapped his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, directing a protesting Johnny towards the door.  

Taeyong waited for the both of them to be out of sight before carefully bringing out the handbook again.

Y/N. Sadness reflected in his eyes as he traced where you had etched your name. This raggedy handbook had once belonged to you. You had used it almost as a scrapbook during the last summer of your life.

He flipped the first page, his lips curving into a crestfallen smile. It was all he had left of you. The years after your passing had been long and tiresome. He could feel the only good memories he possessed begin to fade with time and he feared he’d one day come to forget you.  

On the first page was a polaroid of you with a stray cat. One that had snuck over the back wall and into the gardens. You held the cat with a childlike delight as it nestled closer to your chest. You had named it Tyong—after him.

The next page was cut-outs from magazines, a bucket list of things you wanted to do, and places you wanted to go. He chuckled at the roughly cut image of a famous beach. You had always wanted to see that sea and sand. You had even made him promise that he’d one day take you to one and the two of you would build a sandcastle together.

Taeyong halted on the third page. His lip quivered.

It contained three polaroids of you and him.

The first one was of you poking his cheeks and encouraging him to smile for the camera. The second one was of his half-attempt at a smile, while you laughed at the awkwardness of his expression. The last one was of you and him, your arm around his shoulder and a grin on your face that reached your eyes.  

He brushed his finger over the final photograph of you.

He’d never admit how much he missed you.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

Everything about you...

There just wasn’t anyone else in this world that could be compared to you in his eyes.

Present.

“It’s really you.” The stranger grasped onto your arm. You tried to shake him off, but his birdlike grip only tightened, his fingernails digging into your skin.

“Who are you?” You desperately squirmed.

You felt the mirror burrow into your palm. You winced as the bandages began to stain red.

“You can call me Nait Sabes.” He crudely smirked, “I’m here to help you.”

“Help?” You questioned his absurdity, you didn’t believe it for a second.

The unfamiliar man was dressed in a wrinkled guard’s uniform. He sported a black, leather holster and set of keys which jangled when he moved.

Regardless of the uniform, he certainly wasn’t a guard. You had subtly observed Taeyong’s other guards over time. They were obedient. They were silent figures that lurked in the background. The man before you, however, projected prowess. He stood with confidence, one which was vain and self-assured.

“The precious daughter of the kingpin of the old, the true heir to the four territories.” You disliked the sing-song way he spoke.

“For a dead princess you’re not quite dead, are you?”

You caught the sadist glint behind his stare.

“You must be terribly disappointed,” You were surprised by your own boldness.

“Oh no,” The man tilted his head, smiling, “Things have finally gotten interesting.” He cruelly twisted your hand.

You held back a cry. The shade of mirror embedded deeper into your bandages.

“I see we want to escape.” He nudged his chin towards your hand, “But running from someone like Taeyong, now that would end horribly for you.”

“Let me go.” You helplessly ground your teeth.

“You know, you only really have two options.” His smile grew, exposing his yellow teeth. “Taeyong has hundreds of men at his disposal, do you really think he couldn’t overpower you?”

“What do you suggest then?” You barely managed to murmur.

“Forgive him for all he’s done and live happily ever after,” He gleamed, softening the hold on your hands “Well, at least for a while…”

“A while?”

He laughed, “He’ll grow tired of you and discard you like the rest.”

You lowered your gaze.

“Or you could make your late father proud.” He sang, “You could take your revenge. You can steal all of his riches and obtain all of his power. You could even break his heart as he did yours.”

You shook Nait’s hand off again, this time he let you go.

“I don’t want revenge,” You stated earnestly, “I just want my past to be my past.”

“Naïve, little Y/N.” Nait shook his head, “There’s no letting go of one's past.” He echoed. 

Taeyong hurriedly jogged up the staircase, taking the first left towards his bedroom at the end of the hall. An anxiousness was bubbling, a sickening sensation swirling in his stomach something must have gone horribly wrong. 

I shouldn’t have left her here alone. 

As he approached, he noticed the mutilated bodies of two guards. Their limbs were crushed by the blow of bullets, their wounds leaking a stream of scarlet over the Persian rug. One of the guards had been stripped of his uniform, and his holstered weapon was also stolen. Taeyong’s eyes bulged, sprinting. He furiously punched in the keycode from his bedroom, slamming open the door. 

His head moved frantically, side to side. You were nowhere to be seen. He went deeper noticing the bathroom door closed halfway. The color drained from his face, his chest pounding harder. 

He pushed back the door to be greeted by a scene of red. Blood stained the porcelain tiles, blood painted the basin, and splattered upward towards the cracked mirror.  You lay in the fetal position, your chest heaving for breath. 

Taeyong fell to the ground, scooping you up into his arms. Your skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Blood had mattered your hair, and the lesion from your temple continued to bleed profusely. 

“Y/N?” He called. “Y/N?” He cried, his voice breaking, his body rocking you back and forth.

His shaking hand reached for a towel, pressing it against your wound. He tried to apply pressure, but the towel quickly soaked up the gushing blood. His head rested by yours, whispering reassuring words against your chin. 

You’re going to be all right Y/N. You're going to be all right.

"Stay with me Y/N." He helplessly pled.

NETWORKS: -​

MONI’S NOTE: Here comes part 4 hehe from here on there will be more and more changes from my previous story. I hope you enjoy this new part. Please remember to reblog, like, & comment!

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