#like it’s always felt like something I never would’ve signed up for had i had the chance to choose

[navybrat817]

Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?🤭🤭

Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.

Word Count: Over 2.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.

His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didn’t care if they’d call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.

But checking the time, he grumbled. “We were supposed to leave five minutes ago,” he said.

He would’ve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, he’d never know.

You hummed. “We still have a few minutes to spare,” you said, which he wasn’t sure how you knew since you hadn’t looked at the time. “And you are not dressed yet, so it’s not like we can head out the door.”

He paused to stare at you. “Neither are you,” he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. “I’m bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.”

Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didn’t know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didn’t want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.

“You just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says I’m yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,” you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. “But I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I do like my clothes draped over you,” he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. “But you know what I don’t like? Steve and Sam bitching if we’re late. It’ll spoil my appetite.”

“Aww, my poor super soldier,” you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. “If we’re late, you can just blame me. I won’t let them give you a hard time, okay?”

Bucky couldn’t blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didn’t seem to mind though.

“They won’t believe me,” he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. “And baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.”

Ever since you moved in, you’d been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that he’d pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.

“Me? Distracting you?” You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. “I'm not doing anything.”

Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldn’t mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.

“Not doing anything? Look at you,” he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He should’ve been holding your breasts. “Why aren't you wearing a robe?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know you’d rather I be naked.”

If Bucky had his way, you’d be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldn’t have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. “For such a rush you seem to be taking your time.”

“I'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,” you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. “Like it?” you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.

He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. “You look beautiful,” he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. “Now get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.”

“Show me off?” You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. “You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. “I think you’re the one flattering me, Mrs.-” he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.

“What was that?” you asked breathily.

He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you weren’t his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.

“I didn’t say…” He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didn’t know how you’d react. “Anything.”

Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you could’ve commanded him to do anything. It didn’t frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.

Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, “Were you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you weren’t ready when he popped the question? “I was,” he whispered back.

You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say “I love you” first. “I think that has a really nice ring to it,” you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.

“You think so?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. “You like the idea of being my wife?”

Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband who’d brag about you. He’d find ways to insert “my wife” in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that he’d find reasons every day to be proud of you.

“I love it,” you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. “Makes my heart race,” you admitted. He could hear it. “Makes me wet.”

Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. “We need to-”

“Oh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,” you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. “He figured he’d message me since I’m better about checking my phone, and-”

Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. “No wonder you took your time and teased me,” he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. “My future wife.”

“My future husband,” you moaned, bucking your hips up. “Need you in me. We can be quick.”

You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.

“Say it again,” he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.

And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, “Fuck me, my future husband.”

He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought he’d whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, easing his hips back. “Just hold on while I fuck you.”

Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didn’t have to smother any noises, didn’t have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.

Being inside you all he got out was, “You feel so fucking good.”

And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. “I love you, too.”

He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. “Gonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,” he groaned. “Can imagine it's part of our honeymoon.”

“Please!’ you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.

Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didn’t get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and he’d do all those things and more. “Then come for me,” he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, “Future. Mrs.. Barnes.”

You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.

The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t want to let you go either. “Holy… shit…” you panted.

He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. “Holy shit,” he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. “Is this a new kink?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, touching his cheek. “New kink unlocked.”

Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. “You ruined my pants,” he teased. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. “Good thing I have a few minutes to change.”

He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. “Yeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.”

“I did,” he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They weren’t just words, but a declaration, a promise.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.

His lips brushed your forehead. He’d never get tired of hearing you say that. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?”

He wouldn’t propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that you’d say yes.

You giggled, your eyes full of love. “I would say yes in a heartbeat,” you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. “And I’d marry you anytime, anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?” he asked, sensing a “but” in there.

“But don’t ask me right now, okay?” you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. “I mean, I’d like to think my pussy would make you propose now-”

“And it would,” he smirked.

You giggled again. “But ask me when I’m not expecting it… Whenever it feels right to you.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.” You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. “Hold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?”

As if he could ever deny you. “I’ll hold you as long as you want,” he whispered.

He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, he’d do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, he’d make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.

AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pzos-amiserableidiot]

was watching tiktok and a video had the song michael in the bathroom playing and I was vicerally reminded of being in middle and high school and mom always mentioning how much I looked like my dad (his name is michael) and how I slowly was able to start noticing it too and whenever I sang the song it reminded me of him and I felt like we were overlapping too often felt like id never be anyone but a shadow or his mirror and then i began learning i was trans and now the song makes me think of him even more (he’s not a bad dad he tells me he’s proud of me and stuff there’s just two really big moments he unknowingly failed and one long continuous one but he loves me and he’s proud and he supports me and he didn’t mean it and ive learned to make that enough) and the weird flashback I got when I heard that song and overlapping with his face and how if I transitioned I almost fear I’d be his clone and yeah Anywyas banger song

[yoojinluv]

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ finding you again

x FEM!POGUE!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request

WORD COUNT: +2.8k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: /

the boarding process was chaotic, as it always was. you adjusted the strap of your backpack and shuffled into the cramped airplane aisle, eyes scanning for your seat. 14B. a window seat would’ve been nice, but you weren’t complaining—after all, this trip had been a splurge, something you worked overtime for over the past few months.

you reached your row, stowing your bag beneath the seat and tucking yourself into place. as you fastened your seatbelt, you glanced at the other seat, wondering who your seatmate for the next several hours would be.

a moment later, someone bumped into your row, muttering an absentminded “excuse me.” you looked up, and your breath got caught in your throat. he was tall, with tousled dirty-blonde hair, a strong jawline, and piercing blue eyes that momentarily made you forget how to speak. he wore a fitted polo and expensive sneakers that looked like they’d never touched dirt.

“i’m in seat 14A,” he said, glancing at his boarding pass and then back at you.

you slid out to let him in, offering a polite smile.

“guess we’re seatmates,” he smiled back at you for a split second, trying to move smoothly into his seat.

“looks like it,” you replied, sliding back into your seat.

he barely spared you another glance as he stashed his carry-on and pulled out a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

charming, you thought wryly, sitting back down. the plane filled up quickly, and soon the flight attendants were going through safety protocols. you fiddled with your seatbelt nervously as the plane began to move.

you’d flown a handful of times before, but the thought of being 30,000 feet in the air still made you jittery. as the plane picked up speed and lifted off, you gripped the armrest tightly, staring straight ahead.

“not a fan of flying?” a voice drawled beside you.

you turned, surprised to see your seatmate watching you. his headphones were draped around his neck now, and the amused tilt of his lips made you feel both annoyed and flustered.

“not really,” you admitted, forcing a shaky laugh. “it’s the turbulence. feels like the plane’s going to fall out of the sky.”

“it’s not,” he said with a shrug. “just air pockets. completely normal.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you sound awfully confident.”

“i fly a lot,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “you get used to it.”

“well, lucky you,” you muttered, clutching the armrest harder as the plane jostled again.

he chuckled. “relax. i’ll tell you if you need to worry.”

“oh, thanks,” you said sarcastically, but his teasing smile made your nerves ease—just a little.

“i’m rafe, by the way. rafe cameron” he offered after a moment, holding out his hand.

“y/n, y/n l/n,” you replied, shaking it. his hand was warm, his grip firm but not overpowering.

“well, y/n, if it helps, i’ve flown through way worse. one time, i swear the plane dropped a hundred feet out of nowhere. people were screaming and everything.”

“wow, that’s so comforting,” you deadpanned, glaring at him, letting go of his hand.

he grinned, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “hey, you’re not screaming yet, so i think we’re doing okay.”

despite yourself, you felt your lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “you’re the worst.”

“so i’ve been told.”

“you heading home?” he added.

“yeah,” you said, nodding. “you?”

“same.”

that was the extent of the small talk for a while. but as the plane leveled out and the seatbelt sign dinged off, rafe turned to you again.

“vacation or work?” he asked, nodding toward your book, which you hadn’t yet opened.

“vacation,” you said, brightening at the topic. “i saved up for months. it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was nice to get away. what about you?”

“vacation or work?” he asked, nodding toward your book, which you hadn’t yet opened.

“vacation,” you said, brightening at the topic. “i saved up for months. it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was nice to get away. what about you?”

“bit of both,” he said vaguely. “you were saying something about working hard for your vacation?”

you blinked, surprised he was picking up the conversation. “yeah,” you said with a small smile. “it’s not easy juggling two jobs, but it’s worth it. i needed the break.”

“two jobs?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “what, are you some kind of workaholic?”

you laughed. “not by choice. life’s expensive, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“can’t relate,” he quipped, a lopsided grin forming.

you snorted. “gee, must be nice.”

he chuckled, leaning a little closer. “so, where’d you go on vacation? Somewhere fancy?”

“not exactly,” you said. “it was just a little beach town. quiet mornings, lots of reading. nothing fancy, but it was perfect.”

“sounds nice,” he admitted. “i could use a quiet beach day.”

“yeah? you don’t strike me as the ‘quiet’ type,” you teased.

rafe smirked, his eyes narrowing playfully. “what type do i strike you as?”

you paused, tapping your chin dramatically. “hmm… definitely a bit of a troublemaker.”

he laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made your stomach flutter. “fair enough. but you don’t seem like the type to mind a little trouble.”

your cheeks warmed, and you turned back to your menu to hide your grin. “anyway,” you said, clearing your throat. “i’m starving. what’s good on here?”

when the flight attendants began serving meals, you opted for a sandwich and a soda, while rafe got some kind of pasta dish. you were mid-bite, listening to him tell an exaggerated story about a “friend”—who you strongly suspected was actually him—accidentally starting a fire while trying to cook.

“i’m telling you, the pan just caught on fire out of nowhere,” he insisted, grinning.

“uh-huh,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “and the fire department just happened to show up because they missed you?”

“exactly,” he said with mock seriousness. “small-town charm.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “remind me never to let you near my kitchen.”

as you spoke, you reached for your soda but accidentally knocked it over, sending the can tumbling onto rafe’s tray. a stream of cola splashed across his shirt and onto the seat between you.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” you gasped, grabbing a handful of napkins from your tray.

rafe looked down at his soaked shirt, then back at you, an amused glint in his eyes. “well, there goes my clean look.”

“i’ll fix it!” you said, hurriedly dabbing at the fabric, your face burning.

he laughed, holding up his hands. “relax, it’s just a shirt. don’t have a heart attack.”

but you were already in damage control mode, muttering apologies as you tried to blot out the stain. rafe leaned back, smirking. “if i didn’t know better, i’d think you planned this. just wanted an excuse to get your hands on me, huh?”

you froze, wide-eyed, before realizing he was joking. “oh, please,” you shot back, swatting his arm. “if i wanted to touch you, i’d at least come up with a better excuse.”

“fair point,” he said, laughing as he grabbed some napkins to help.

for the next few minutes, the two of you worked together to clean up the mess, your hands occasionally brushing as you both reached for the same spot. each accidental touch sent a little jolt through you, but you tried to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.

when the seat was finally cola-free, you sighed in relief, sitting back. “crisis averted.”

“barely,” rafe said, grinning as he peeled off his damp hoodie to reveal a fitted white t-shirt underneath. “guess this’ll have to do.”

you tried not to stare at how well the shirt fit him, opting instead to focus on your tray. “i owe you a soda,” you mumbled, still embarrassed.

“nah,” he said, waving it off. “you can pay me back by telling me more about your vacation. sounds like you had a better time than i did.”

as the flight continued, you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks. he had a knack for making even mundane stories sound exciting, and his occasional self-deprecating humor made him surprisingly endearing.

“so, let me get this straight,” you said at one point, barely containing your laughter. “you jumped into a fountain because you thought someone threw your wallet in there?”

“it looked like my wallet!” he said defensively, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “how was i supposed to know it was a dead fish?”

you doubled over, tears forming in your eyes. “i can’t believe you—wait, no, i totally can.”

“careful,” he teased. “you’re starting to sound like you like me.”

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his words. “you’d wish that.”

“maybe,” he said, his voice low and playful.

the banter flowed easily, the hours slipping by without you noticing. by the time the plane began its descent, you were half-convinced this was the most fun you’d ever had on a flight.

that was, until he asked the question that ruined it all.

“so,” he asked casually, leaning back in his seat. “what do you do for work again?”

you hesitated for a moment, unsure if he’d be impressed or dismissive. but there was something about his casual curiosity that made you answer honestly.

“i work at the library part-time, and i help out at the wreck during the evenings. It’s busy, but I don’t mind.”

“the wreck?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly.

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “best fish tacos on the island.”

“you live near the wreck?” he asked, though his tone had lost its earlier playfulness.

“yeah,” you said, still smiling. “over in the cut.”

rafe leaned back, his expression unreadable now. something in his demeanor shifted, like a door quietly closing.

“you live near the wreck?” he asked, his tone suddenly more clipped.

“over in the cut,” you said, still unaware of the change. “why?”

and just like that, the bubble burst.

there it was—the flash of recognition in his eyes. the name of the cut was like a cold bucket of water thrown over whatever budding warmth had been building between you.

“you’re a pogue,” he said, his voice low.

the word hit you square in the chest. it wasn’t a question; it was a fact, said with a mix of disbelief and something else—something bitter.

“is that… a problem?” you asked cautiously, your smile faltering.

rafe shook his head, but the tension in his jaw told a different story. “no,” he said flatly, turning his attention to the window. “no problem at all.”

the conversation died a swift, painful death. every time you glanced at him, he was staring straight ahead or out the window, his body angled slightly away from you. the easy banter and gentle teasing were gone, replaced by an invisible wall that felt insurmountable.

you tried once or twice to reignite the conversation, asking about his vacation or his favorite spots back in kildare. but his answers were curt, bordering on dismissive. eventually, you gave up, sinking into your seat with a knot in your chest.

when the plane landed, rafe was up and out of his seat before you could say goodbye. he muttered something that might’ve been “see you around,” but it was drowned out by the noise of disembarking passengers.

as you watched him walk away, a bitter pang of embarrassment settled in your stomach. you’d thought, just for a moment, that you’d made a connection with him. but apparently, the line between kook and pogue was still as unyielding as ever.

the wreck was in full swing, the clatter of plates and hum of conversations filling the air. you had just clocked out for a break, grabbing your sandwich and heading to your second-hand car parked at the edge of the lot. it wasn’t much—a little beat-up around the edges and prone to overheating—but it was your sanctuary.

sliding into the driver’s seat, you let out a long sigh. the noise of the restaurant faded as you closed the door, leaving only the quiet hum of the parking lot. you unwrapped your sandwich and sank into the seat, scrolling idly through your phone as you ate.

for a brief moment, the world felt peaceful.

back inside, rafe cameron walked through the door, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room. dressed casually but still managing to draw attention, he hesitated by the counter before making his way to kiara, who was wiping down the counter.

“where is she? where’s y/n?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

kiara froze, looking up at him with a glare that could cut steel. “why do you care?”

“i just need to talk to her,” rafe said, running a hand through his hair.

“talk?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “like how you talked to her on the plane? because that worked out great, ” she crossed her arms, her expression hardening.

“so, no. you’re not talking to her.”

“come on, kie,” rafe said, exasperated. “i just want to apologize.”

“you want to apologize?” kie scoffed. “what’s the catch, rafe? did your dad send you to buy her silence or something?”

“you don’t get to ignore her and then show up like it’s no big deal. you kooks are all the same—thinking you can just waltz in and fix everything with some half-assed apology.”

“it’s not like that,” rafe said, his voice softening. “i know i screwed up. i just—i panicked, okay? i wasn’t sure how my dad would react if i told him i wanted to take a pogue on a date.”

kie’s eyes narrowed. “so instead, you made her feel like crap? real smooth, cameron.”

“i know,” rafe admitted, his tone filled with frustration. “i messed up, but i want to make it right. please, kie. where is she?”

kie hesitated, her glare softening slightly before she sighed and gestured toward the parking lot. “she’s on break. but if you hurt her again, i’ll make sure you regret it.”

rafe nodded, already heading toward the door.

you were halfway through your sandwich when you heard footsteps on the gravel. looking up, you saw rafe approaching, his hands shoved into his pockets.

you groaned internally, setting your food aside. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone sharper than intended.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, stopping just outside your car.

“i’m on break,” you said flatly. “this better be good.”

“what do you want?”

he took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. “i’m sorry.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “for what?”

“for being an idiot,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “on the plane, after i realized you were a... pogue… i panicked. it wasn’t fair to you, and i hate that i made you feel like you weren’t worth my time. you are.”

you stared at him, your heart warring with your anger. “you panicked?”

“you panicked? that’s your excuse for acting like a total jerk?”

rafe nodded, his expression earnest. “i wasn’t sure how my dad would react if i… he’s… not exactly open-minded, and i wasn’t... sure—”

you raised an eyebrow, your voice edged with disbelief. “so instead of handling it, you decided to shut me out and act like i didn’t matter?”

“i know,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “i know i messed up. i just—i’m not used to this.”

“this?” you repeated, your frustration bubbling over. “what, treating people like equals?”

rafe flinched, shaking his head. “that’s not what i meant. i mean… ”

“i’ve never felt like this before.”

the quiet sincerity in his voice gave you pause. you studied him, your anger softening just a fraction.

“we were having a good time, and then you just… shut me out. like i wasn’t good enough for you.”

“i know,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “and i hate that i made you feel like that. you are good enough—better than i deserve, probably. i just… i didn’t know how to deal with it.”

you looked away, unsure of what to say. part of you wanted to yell at him, to tell him he didn’t deserve another chance. but another part of you—the part that remembered the easy laughter and connection you’d shared—wanted to believe he meant it.

“i don’t know if i can believe you,” you said finally, your voice steady but soft.

“i get that,” he said, his tone steady. “but let me prove it. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

you hesitated, the silence stretching between you. finally, you sighed. “you’ve got a lot to prove, cameron.”

a small smile tugged at his lips. “i will. i promise.”

“good,” you said, brushing past him. “now go. my break’s over.”

as you walked back toward the wreck, you glanced over your shoulder. rafe was still standing by your car, watching you with a look that made your chest ache.

maybe, just maybe, he meant what he said.

[miirohs]

sugarcoated

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[yoitsjay]

This is more cause the Epic musical ended, but can you do like Jason x Reader based on the final song “Would you fall in love with me again” like Jason returns to reader after Jokers gone, he’s fought to return to her while feeling like he’s no longer human, reader arguing how long shes missed him and he obviously still cares. You can add smut if you want but i feel like Jason needs an Odysseus ending.

EPIC THE MUSCICAL MENTION?

Your Still Human

Summary: throughout everything she waited. He fought for her, she waited for the moment he returned to her side. Now he was home, and he didn't believe that she still loved him, despite all he's done. But she can make him believe.

Warnings: slight angst, Jason todd backstory shit, arguing, reader slaps him into reality (literally), light smut, not really descriptive.

Word Count: 1931

A/n: I feel like whenever anyone says "you can write smut if you want" is a very passive aggressive way to say they want to fuck the character they requested. LMAO, if u want smut, ASK FOR IT, and be specific if u want smth special. 😃

Gotham City never sleeps, not even under the weight of snowflakes that dust the cracked pavement and the jagged rooftops. The air was sharp tonight, biting against your cheeks as you tightened your scarf, shivering in the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. Winter in Gotham had always felt heavy, oppressive even, but this one weighed on you differently.

Two years. Two years since the night Jason died.

The thought lingered, as unwelcome as the gusts of wind that snuck through the gaps in your coat. The Joker had taken him—your best friend, your love, your anchor. And while the world had kept turning, the city humming along with its chaos and crime, your own clock had stopped that night.

You stood at the edge of the East End, the skyline swallowed by a curtain of falling snow. Somewhere out there, Bruce was probably brooding in the shadows, and Dick might be chasing down a lead. But you? You couldn’t bring yourself to move. This corner of the city felt quieter, like even Gotham’s perpetual noise knew better than to intrude on your grief.

In your pocket, your gloved fingers curled around a worn photograph. The edges were frayed from how many times you’d unfolded it, staring at Jason’s crooked grin, the light in his eyes that had always seemed so unshakable. You could almost hear his voice in the silence, teasing you for standing out in the cold without gloves—though, this time, you were wearing them.

A crack in the snow behind you startled you from your thoughts. You turned sharply, heart thudding, but it was only the wind sweeping an empty soda can across the ground. Still, the moment reminded you of where you were—Gotham wasn’t safe, not even for someone who had loved a Robin.

You sighed and tucked the photo back into your pocket, pulling your hood up against the cold. Jason would’ve told you to keep moving, to stay sharp. And though your grief threatened to anchor you in place, you took a step forward.

The city was still alive, and so were you. For now, that would have to be enough.

you made your way from the side of the building and back to the door that leads to the staircase. You took your time walking down, keeping one earbud in, one out so that you could still listen to the music you enjoyed, while staying vigilant to the dangers.

The Wayne’s were your family, through and through, especially after that night, you knew they would always have some form of eye on you, whether it was Oracle through city surveillance cameras, or one of Bruce's adopted menagerie of children making sure you got home safe in the evening.

You finally arrived at your apartment building, though as you approached your door, you quickly realized something was off. The door was ajar, but there was no sign of forced entry, no cracked, splintered or broken door frame or handle, no scratches.

Tentatively, you pulled out the pocket knife that alwaysat heavy in your left pocket. It was a silvered blade, short but deadly sharp, and the handle was red, polished wood and resin. A goft from Jason, before he had died. he made you promise to use it if your life was ever in danger, to fuck bruces no killing rule if it meant you stayed alive.

you promised you would.

You approached the apartment, knife gripped tightly in your dominant hand as you slowly pushed open the door, glancing around the darkness of your loft. It was a very open concept, but you loved it. You could easily see up the stairs to where your bedroom was, and from the loft you could see below to the living room and kitchen.

The large windows provided bright moonlight, which illuminated the apartment. At least it wasnt pitch black.

Cautiously, you moved further into the appartment, checking the corners, sticking close to the wall as you studyied the living area, seeing nothing out of place, nothing turned over or destroyed. Alright, not a robbery. But that didnt mean it was any less dangerous.

You heard some shuffling, coming from above, on the lofted area where your bedroom was. You narrowed your eyes. You should be smart, and leave the appartment and call Dick, Tim or Bruce to come investigate, and make sure it was safe…

but then an oddly familiar scent hit your nose as you crept up the staircase, keeping the knife firmly gripped as you slowly poked your head over the last step on the staircase, keeping low as you spotted a shadowed figure seated on your bed, looking through an album.

your private album with polaroid pictures you took of \jason, and yourself, when you were both kids and he was alive.

Slowly you rose up, and you flicked on the bedroom light.

then your knife clattered to the ground.

Familiar eyes stared up at you, though once a deep blue, they now shone almost tealish green in color, though, perhaps that suited him more.

“Jason”.

Your voice flooded the area first, breath stolen away as a diffrent, but familiar man slowly rosr to his feet, already towering over you, even from a few feet away.

“You didnt move out.”

he voiced observantly, glancing around the loft apartment. “new furniture though, i like it.” He added, his gaze falling back to you, and your dumbfound expression.

“Your dead.”

“Lazerus pit.”

“ah…”

Silence once more, until he took a step forward, you flinched, but didnt moce back as he slowly, cautiously approached, before crouching down and grabbing the knife that had fallen from your hands.

“Have you used it?”

He asked, and you shook your head.

“Only to peel an apple. don’t think that counts.” you muttered softly, eyes following his movements as he stood back up, closing the knife before handing it back to you… tentitively you reached out, though rather than grabbing the knife, you grased his hand.

He was real, here, standing right in front of you.

You let out a sob, and your knees began to buckle, but his arms were quickly wrapped around you, and he was holding you close, his face, scarred, older, buried into your hair, the scent not changed since he saw you last.

“Y/n…” He trailed off, his voice cracking as he squeezed you gently in his arms. “i tried to come sooner, you were the only thing on my mind- im so sorry.” Jason whispered, feeling you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, hands sliding into his soft, black, and now white streaked hair.

“is it really you?” You asked, voice cracking as you pilled back, looking into his teal green eyes, moving your hand down to his chee, thumb brushing over the J shaped scar in his cheek, causing you to from as he flinched slightly, though didnt pull back.

“You look diffrent, older… broken”

Jason frowned, his eyes searching yours before he removed his arms from around you and he pulled back, looking out of the large windows, the moonlight illuninating the haunted look in his eyes.

“Ill be honest Princess… im not the man you fell in love with.”

He breathed out in a chuckle, slipping his hands into his pockets as his eyebrows furrowed.

“im not kind, gentle or- any of that bullshit you knew…”

He trailed off, trying not to notice the way your frown deepend, and how tears glistened your cheeks.

“Ive done so many bad things… trying to get back to you, to my world… things i- i cant take back…”

His worlds trailed off, and he glanced in your direction as you approached, sliding your hand up his arm, to his bicep.

“what have you done?”

you asked, voice soft, quiet. you were afraid it would break if you spoke up any louder.

“i-”

Jason paused, frowning as he looked away, balling his hands into fists within his pockets.

“I’ve killed people darlin’- a lot of people. i was so angry, i left a trail of blood everywhere i went… but my goal was always you, princess.” He replied, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at you.

“If that's true.” you spoke up tentatively, “Then take your knife back, and slit my throat.”

you demanded it so sternly, and his eyes flew wide open as he took a step back.

“What?” he barked out, glaring down at you. “Why the fuck would you say something like that Y/n? i would never hurt you, i love-”

His words were cut off as your hands grabbed his face, and you pulled him down, smashing your lips against his.

Jason quickly melted into it, his muscular arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly against him as he relished in the feeling of your lips against his.

Fuck, he whined when you pulled away.

“Only the Jason Todd I knew would say that, would love me so unconditionally that he killed anyone in his path just to get back to me.”

You breathed out brushing some white strands of hair from his eyes, so you could take in all the trauma, the sadness locked away behind them.

“I love you, i missed you- and don’t you dare call yourself a monster, Jason Todd, i'm not Bruce, i don't care how many you’ve killed, it just means there's one less criminal in the world. I know damn well you still care about me.” you stated sternly.

he was silent for a little, holding you, taking your words in, before he chuckled, and his eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to yours. Muttering an ‘im sorry’

“Theres nothing to be sorry about.”

You replied, smiling when he simply snorted, and said nothing else… until he did.

“I need you.”

He whispered, and you raised an eyebrow, studying his facial features, the way his bottom lip quivered slightly.

“You have me me Jas-”

“No Y/n- i need you.”

He whimpered.

he fucking whimpered.

Your face heated up significantly, though he made no sudden movements as you continued running your fingers through his soft black locks.

“Oka-”

You couldn't even finish your sentence because his lips were already locked against yours, his arms under your ass as he hoisted you up with ease and spun you around before placing you on the bed, stealing your breath away with every kiss he stole from you, his own soft, needy grunts already filling the room as you felt him grind his massive bulge into the plushness of your thigh, one arm wrapped around said thigh to keep it secured as he rutted against you.

“Jason-” You managed to grunt out between every kiss, letting out a soft moan as he nipped at the skin of your neck.

“You're mine.” He growled out, like he was fucking feral.

“m’ never gunna leave you again princess, never- fuck- will you let me use that pretty pussy? yeah? Let me claim you?” he grunted with each particularly rough grind against your thigh.

Words and sounds mingled into one as the night progressed, the open apartment door left forgotten as he all but consumed you.

In the end you laid in his arms, letting him hold you as tightly as he needed to as cum leaked from between your legs, bruises littered all across your skin. But Jason was back, your prince of gotham was home. safe in your arms.

if it were you who died, and crawled back to life…

you would have destroyed the whole world just to see him again.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi

Batfam tag:

Jason Todd tag:

Jason todd smut tag:

[limethefirst]

Guard Dogs

pairings: Deadpool x reader x Wolverine

warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, creepy guy in a bar, crude humor

summary: you never have to worry when you go out, your guard dogs are always there to protect you

a/n: can be perceived as romantic or platonic, it’s not specified! Also I want to thank everyone who’s been supporting my stories and all the kind words I’ve received!

Going out alone wasn’t something you liked to do, but unfortunately there were a lot of instances in which you had to. The world itself wasn’t a safe place, both Wade and Logan knew that, in fact it was one of the few things they could always agree on.

Today was no different, do your usual chores, relax, eat, work, but there was something else you wanted to do, a little treat for all your hard work, “Let’s go drinking tonight!”

Wade and Logan looked up from whatever they were doing. You had bursted into their apartment without a notice.

It was normal for all three of you to hang out, but it was unusual for you guys to all go to a bar together. Logan was the heaviest drinker of the group, he knew where to go, Wade would go with his friends mostly, and you didn’t treat yourself to this as much.

“Alright,” Logan mumbled, his eyes on whatever stories the local news channel had on, controller in one hand his head in the other.

“Woah the big bad wolf wants to be seen out with us?!” Wade exclaimed, referring to Logan, “Sign me up!” Logan rolled his eyes at the comment his ‘friend’ made, not in the mood to argue with him.

“Okay I’ll be back at 7,” You told the men, closing the door heading back to your own apartment.

“I need to go put on my good toupee!” Wade claps his hands together, heading towards his bathroom, grabbing the staplers on his way.

Logan’s eyes still glued to the television yells over to him, “They’re all ugly don’t worry.” Wade flips him off, closing the door.

Getting ready was something that made time fly by, because before anyone knew it 7 was already here. The three musketeers were ready for their adventure.

Logan led the way, knowing the best places in the city despite being here for the shortest amount of time. Wade was on your right fixing his “hair system” as he made some snarky remarks at Logan.

You walked close to Wade unaware of what was going on.

The bar was nice, it had some stools, a few benches and normal tables for bigger groups. Logan sat himself on the stools by the bartender knowing he’d get liquor much faster this way. Wade sat a seat away from Logan leaving you space in the middle of the two, which you didn’t mind at all.

“Give me another drink,” Logan called to the bar keep.

“There you go just fucking up that liver again,” Wade smirked at him, just trying to get under his skin.

“Shut the fuck up before I rip off that toupee and shove it right up your-”

Before Logan could finish Wade quickly put his finger up to his mouth, “Woah there peanut, I don’t do pegging on the first date,”

“If this wasn’t a public bar I’d cut that oversized head of yours off,”

You laughed as Logan and Wades bickering continued. Suddenly you noticed as the music seemed to turn off, normally you wouldn’t mind but tonight a nice song would’ve been good so you quietly excuse yourself from the situation.

You found yourself walking over to the jukebox; your eyes examining the song selections before picking ‘Million Dollar Man’ by Lana Del Rey (Ldr mentioned).

Having put on your song you found yourself walking back to the stool seat before a man walked in front of you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing by herself?” His tone was slurred, obviously from drinking too much. He wasn’t tall and he looked like he’d just woken up.

You gave a quiet sigh, “Oh I’m not alone,” You gave him a slight smile hoping he’d get the memo.

The man looked around and smiled creepily at you, “I don’t see anyone” He slowly took some more steps closer to you.

“How ��bout now Bub,” Logan’s voice boomed from behind you, you felt his hand on your shoulder.

The creep gave an annoyed eye roll. Logan was taller than the man by a lot, and was definitely more intimidating.

“We were just talking, why don’t you leave us alone?” He began to mock Logan, this only riled him up some more.

“I’ll give you three seconds to walk away before I get serious,” Logan’s eyes were trained on the man, his arms were now crossed over his chest, visibly annoyed.

The man let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah okay what are you gonna do buddy?”

“We’re gonna fuck you in the ass,” Wade said as he showed up behind the man and grabbed his head, smashing it into the bar. Logan then brought the man back up just to knee him in the stomach before throwing him on the ground.

Everyone else started to get up after seeing the commotion, obviously itching for a fight, but you didn’t waste anytime for that grabbing both men and running out of the bar.

“Jesus Wade did you have to say that?” You asked him, wondering why he thought ass play was a threat.

“Do not use my name in vein,” he responded, clearly unbothered by his remark.

Logan gruffed at the evening you guys had, visibly tired from all that went on.

“We need to stop going out together,” you said looking at the street light.

“Let’s watch a movie at my place next time!” Wade offered, a cheery expression on his face.

“Yea whatever but you better not pick a fucking porno again,” Logan glared at him remembering the last time Wade picked a movie for the three of you to watch.

“I think it makes for good team bonding!”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

to many more | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“what’s your favorite book?”

spencer looked away from his open files to turn in his chair to see you standing behind him, a couple of manila folders held close to your baby blue long sleeve dress shirt. he had to keep his eyes from dropping lower to get a glance at the curves that hugged to your black pants.

he coughed as he blinked a few times behind his glasses, “uh, well there’s- there’s too many to choose from. if you’re asking about general literature i’d probably say-“

you held a hand out with a shaky smile, “sorry. don’t mean to interrupt. but um, i’m asking if there’s a book or story that’s very meaningful full for you.”

spencer straightened his mouth, feeling it form into that usual line. he let his mind scour for a moment, “uh maybe… alice in wonderland. my mom used to read it as a bed time story from time to time in between narnia and fifteenth century literature. she used to read me valentines poems.”

he saw your brows raise for a moment, “that’s sweet. which did she recite the most?” you readjusted the files.

spencer tapped his fingers over his thighs, “mostly chaucer’s parlement of foules. The poem, which is in the form of a dream vision in rhyme royal stanza, contains one of the earliest references to the idea that St. Valentine's Day is a special day for lovers…” he stopped short when he saw a bored expression draping your face. “sorry, rambling.”

your eyes widen and you took a step closer, “no, no. you’re fine. your voice soothes me, probably looked a bit drowsy.”

spencer scrunched his face, “most people would look tired cause i’m boring them to sleep.” he saw your face fall at his words, he didn’t like the sight.

“well i like hearing your information. i find what you know quite fascinating, like last week you told me that flamingos feathers are actually white or pale gray, but appear pink cause of algae and shrimp. i would’ve never know that.” your smile pushed your cheeks, pupils beaming alight as he felt them ghostly tracing his face.

bashful your eyes directed to your feet, “i enjoyed our date last week.” moving some fingers to run behind your ear, “i’ve always wanted to visit the planetarium, but never found the time.”

spencer smiled fondly, “i’m glad i was able to get you the chance. sometimes they do thirty minute segments on each zodiac sign, it’s when i see a lot of ‘psychics’.”

you chuckled lightly, spencer’s grin widened. “i should take you to one for fun. just to test how real they are.”

he couldn’t help rolling his eyes, “don’t waste your money.” you shrugged simply, “could be a fun third date. she can verify that we’re a match.” giving your upper body a slight twisting at the waist.

before spencer could say anything in reply, you both turned to see hotch calling you from his upper office. “shit, forgot i had to drop these off. i’ll see you later.” and you stepped into his space to lean in an leave a kiss to his forehead. he could feel the residue of your fading gloss. he was happy there wasn’t many people in the bullpen, he didn’t want to deal with morgan’s teasing right now.

the only possible person to have witnessed that display would be hotch. “reid, a word,” his stern voice causing him to flinch in his seat. he quickly made his way up the steps and into the office, closing the door behind him and standing beside you with his hands behind his back. he wasn’t planning to have this conversation a month early.

“is there something you both would like to inform me on?” hotch letting either of you confirm your new relationship instead of assuming.

“uh,” you started to say before spencer interrupted more confidently, “y/n and i are currently seeing each other. it’s only been about two months.” he turned to you, eyes locking and both of you smiled at each other, “but i’d like to believe this will last awhile.”

“well,” hotch cleared his throat, “since you’ve probably read through the handbook spencer, there isn’t anything wrong with fraternization between employees. i would just need both of you to fill out some paperwork.”

you both nodded in agreement. “and please, try not to let this distract you in the field. otherwise you’ll have to be in separate rooms, hotel and assignments.”

“yes sir,” giving a playful salute as he dismissed you both. you decided to pull spencer by his hand in the direction of your, shared office, already knowing jj was busy elsewhere.

“i hope that was-“ you spun into spencer, palms on his cheeks as your lips pressed onto his. he went still for a moment, but you knew he just needed a second to process. his fingers curled along your hips, his warmth seeping through your fabric and onto your skin.

you sighed into his mouth as he worked your lips apart, taking the lead he moved both of you further into the office. your thighs hit the edge, a small gasping allowing for spencer to boldly slip his tongue into your mouth, your heart was pumping in your ears.

if you weren’t in the office you’d let your greedy fingers start to work at unbuttoning his shirt, but instead you were stopped short when someone groaned out, “holy shit!”

spencer was the first to jump away and you saw that penelope and jj were at the threshold with jaws dropped and bugged eyes. “you freaky love birds!” penelope screeched.

“i need to burn this room,” jj groaned as she turned on her heels.

[rninies]

✮ so you do like me - gojo satoru

synopsis: you and gojo confess in an unexpected situation.

warnings: fluff, chaotic reader and gojo, gn!reader, gojo is tiny bit oblivious — wc: 746

notes: i love oblivious gojo i think hes so stupid (affectionate)

gojo satoru is annoying.

you’re saying this as his best friend who’s been with him for years, and even though you’ve been friends for that long, he’s never failed to annoy the shit out of you. there’s never a day where he doesn’t bother you about the stupidest stuff ever — you remember getting a call from him at three in the morning asking if you had any spare hand soap at your place (you got mad at him for a day for that).

hearing satoru sigh for the tenth time today, you turned to look at him. “what is it? why are you so… gloomy today?”

“nothing,” he repeats the same answer he gave you two minutes ago which makes you sigh as well, giving up on asking any more questions. when he sees your uninterested eyes, he sits up straight. “okay, well, i have this problem and you’re my closest friend but-” satoru groans, leaning back against the chair and placing a hand over his face.

that piqued your interest. “but?”

“it’s hard.” satoru shakes his head in distress. “it’s so annoying i can’t talk about it.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “what do you mean you can’t talk about it? you can always talk about anything with me.”

“no, see! that’s the problem here.” satoru stands up and walks towards you. “do you know how goddamn hard it is having a crush on someone and not being able to talk about it with the only person you want to talk to it about because it’s about them?” he exclaims, frustrated at himself.

you paused. “yes, i do. i absolutely do and it’s horrible. trust me, satoru, i know.”

“how do you know? i’ve never seen you look at anyone with hearts in your eyes.” satoru narrows his eyes. “i’ve never even heard you talk about crushes ever since we became friends!”

“you’re so dense.” you sighed, finally mustering up the courage to say it. “it’s you, dumbass. i’ve had a crush on you like two weeks after we became friends. i’ve never talked about crushes with you because it’s you i have a crush on. how am i supposed to talk about being in love with you to you?”

“huh?” satoru freezes in his place, brain malfunctioning with the information you just gave him. “wait- huh?”

“take all the time you need, toru.” you crossed your arms, patiently waiting for satoru to say something coherent.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING TO ME?” satoru bursts, arms flailing around. “we- why didn’t you say anything about having a crush on me? wasn’t i obvious with my feelings for you?! i thought you would’ve known about what i felt when i-”

“when you what?”

“when i gave you my last piece of chicken nugget!” he exclaims.

you paused. “seriously? you giving me your last chicken nugget is a sign of love?”

“have you never read or watched anything romantic? people would usually give up their last piece of their favorite food to their lover!” satoru asks, and you shake your head making satoru gasp. “you’re so uncultured.”

“um? i meant that i had never seen anyone do that. ever.” you replied. “you’re the one who’s watching weird “romance” movies!”

“don’t you dare call my romance movies weird! you just have to watch it with me and you’ll be in love immediately.” satoru huffs, walking closer to you so that you can smell his cologne. “so? what do we do now?”

“are you just going to stand in front of me and not ask me out on a date?” you asked, and satoru laughed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“so,” satoru says as soon as he removes his arms form you. “you had a crush on me, hm?”

you scoff. “as if you didn’t.”

“it is because i’m absolutely irresistible?” satoru gives you a smug smile.

“as if.” you reply. “no, it’s because you’re an idiot, and-” you paused, taking in a deep breath, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “and i can’t imagine life without you.”

“oh my god.” satoru gasps. “you’re such a romantic! aw, y/n!” he embraces you once more, but this time, you tripped and ended up falling on the bed, his figure crushing you.

“satoru-” you wheeze, slapping his back. “can’t breathe. let. go.”

“no way. i’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” satoru smiles down at you. “i love you.”

your ears turn red and you immediately look away. “...i love you too.”

taglist: @planetnini @xintre @kyoghurts (send an ask to be added!) <3

[cinnbar-bun]

Affinity (Various OP Characters x Reader)

Characters: Brook, Buggy, Beckman, Crocodile, Zoro, Mihawk, Corazon, Shanks, Law

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~4k

A/n: Reader is GN! I kinda made this after hearing about a special thing in my religion, and decided I wanted to do this. I of course made it more romantic in nature than the original idea goes, but hey, romance! I had my followers choose 7 originally but it went to 9, which is a very lucky number in my religion so maybe it was a sign? Who knows! Please enjoy <3

Tagging: @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 @undeadeurydice @i-am-vita @kiribuchi @therosietoesy (sorry, I forgot who asked for Law my bad)

———————————————————————

There is a belief that before you are born, you were once a soul that had existed with other souls. Souls who had an affinity for each other would find that affinity carried in their time as a human. Souls who repelled each other would find that distaste carried over as well. Perhaps it was preordained, fate, destiny- whatever you’d call it. Regardless, it seems your soul has met with someone who once had an affinity for you…

Brook

Being an undead figure unable to pass on was not what Brook had in mind. In some ways, he was grateful for another chance at life, another chance to do what he previously was too dead to finish. Albeit, being a pile of bones did have its drawbacks.

While he could still function and do things many humans did, fact was, he was anything but. One look at him would easily make him stand out as something like a freak of nature.

Skeletons cannot love and be loved like a human. He could hold, but could not be held like a human. Admittedly, it had bothered him on occasion, but he always tried to brush it off with a simple hum or shrug. After all, he had his friends and crewmates- and he had a promise to continue fighting for. That should be enough.

But he couldn’t stop his eyes (if he had any) from wandering… couldn’t stop the way his mind wondered…

Just what could it be like if I too could fall in love?

Ah, but that’s such a silly thing for a skeleton to consider. Who could ever love the undead remains of someone long forgotten?

He’d practically given up on such silly notions like love or a relationship- it didn’t fit his current predicament.

So Brook focused on his music and his performances instead. He held up his violin and decided to waste some time on this sunny day playing for his audience of a few blue birds chirping at this green park. It was beautiful and reminded him of his day with the Rumbar Pirates- agh, nostalgia was always his weakest attribute, he thinks.

His fingers drift along the strings of the instrument, peacefully playing his weary heart away. He doesn’t recognize he has another guest until he hears slow clapping.

“What?” He turns his head, surprised to see you on the bench, smiling and clapping.

“That was lovely,” you comment. Time slows still and your eyes meet, shining (e/c) eyes with hollow black sockets.

If he had skin, perhaps he would’ve been red or sweating buckets. As a skeleton, he was not able to do things. But Brook was still a man through and through, and he couldn’t help but freeze at seeing the way your eyes were soft and full of admiration.

“I’m glad you thought so. Music is my pride and joy.”

“I can tell,” you reply. “I felt like I forgot to breathe for a moment when I heard that. I’m sorry for watching, though, if you weren’t looking for an audience.”

“N-no, actually it was…” he was too caught up in the way his soul was resonating and burning within him. “I appreciate it actually. Would you like me to play a song for you?”

“Would you? I’d love to hear more!”

Buggy

Buggy never believed in things like soulmates or fairy tales or blah blah blah- it was all junk! The only thing he ever could trust was treasure- shiny, bright, treasure! What else did a pirate need or want?

Is what he would say out loud- Buggy, even at a young age, was secretly a romantic who refused to let himself be swept up in the sentiment. When him and Shanks would sail together on Roger’s ship, Shanks would often ask what he thought about love.

Unlike Buggy, Shanks was pretty honest and confident about his assertions. Buggy would stumble and try to keep the bravado up, pretending as if he didn’t secretly yearn for a person who could look past his red nose and maybe possibly sorta kinda like him? Was that too much to ask? If you were Buggy, the answer was yes, because he would never allow himself the chance to be soft or vulnerable with someone. Especially not when he was already so sensitive about his looks and attitude. The thought of letting his guard down to be loved terrified him- what if they left? What if they made fun of him, too?

It was just too much for his fragile ego, so he brushed it aside and continued his hunt for treasure.

“Now where the hell am I?” He yelled, tilting the map in his hand left and right, as if that would somehow make his destination clearer. “Kinda crappy treasure map is this?”

He glared and shoved the map back in his pocket as he stomped around this town. He hadn’t ever bothered to come to this place before, so everything was new for him. He glared at the kids who were pointing at his nose to scare them off (mission accomplished), but his foul attitude still didn’t lessen.

As Buggy turned a corner, he accidentally rammed into someone. They shrieked, and his hat fell off his face and covered his eyes.

“Watch it, will ya? I’m walkin’ he…” he pushed his hat back up and came face to face with perhaps the most gorgeous person he’s ever met. His mouth was wide open, gawking at you as you gave an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” you said sheepishly.

“Y-yeah it’s… it’s cool. No biggie,” he mumbled in a daze.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he returned to normal. “I mean, yeah, totally.”

You chuckle at his behavior, and something within Buggy’s chest makes it feel like there’s a million butterflies flapping inside his ribcage. He can’t help the dumb grin on his face as he laughs along.

“Sorry again, sir. I’ll keep an eye out for you next time,” you wink and begin walking away, making Buggy flabbergasted. N-next time? Was that a promise? He didn’t even realize what he was thinking before he turned around and tried to jog back to you.

“H-hey, wait up-!”

Beckman

Beckman was fairly ambivalent to the idea of a “soulmate” or “affinity”. Sure, he humored his often childish captain with those notions, but the fact was, Beckman was simply a sailor at heart. He didn’t think being “stuck” to someone was the life he wanted, and he was fairly sure a sane, rational person would not want to be the lover of a first mate to perhaps one of the most infamous pirate crews on the sea.

Now, this would imply you were sane and rational, and this would also imply that he was also not a sucker for you. Perhaps that was what made him attracted to you in the first place, or maybe it was something that gave him the idea that his captain wasn’t so off base.

When it came to you, Beckman was eager, a bit too eager, the others would joke. Whenever you called, he came running and answering like a loyal servant. Whenever you wrote, his lips would form a large smile while he refused to let the others look at the letter you sent. Whenever he was away from you for long periods of time, he drank a bit too much.

It was common place enough for the others to notice and tease him about, even if Beckman was adamant there was nothing there. You guys were just… friends, or something ambiguous like that. You didn’t need a label for your relationship. This was completely normal, you were normal, he was normal- nothing was out of the ordinary, so if they would please stop asking and make him confront those pesky feelings he-

Maybe he had a problem. He never felt this way for anyone else he encountered. You knew of his philandering, not seeming to care all that much, but damn it, even he couldn’t continue that streak because his mind would get occupied with you, you, you. Love was too complicated. Maybe this was the alcohol talking. Or Shanks getting in his head about “souls being attuned” or whatever spiritual jazz the red-haired captain would spout.

No, it really made sense, all things considered. There was no one else but you to make him quit fooling around with others on the islands he stopped at. There was no one else but you who invaded his thoughts, who plagued him day and night with those eyes, that smile, the way you hated that red cologne he once bought and-

Oh dear god, he was deep into this, wasn’t he?

Crocodile

Love? Spirits? Souls? Soulmates?

Yeah right, add that to the list of stupid things weak poets say to make their miserable lives have some meaning. You could jump through a million hoops to try and blame encounters and relationships on things like “destiny” or “fate”. To a man like Crocodile, however, “destiny” was just something he could control. Whether through bribes of money or through making them submit with his fearsome powers, “destiny” was nothing but another means of his affluence.

Only those who were weak and had nothing could not control their lives.

Something like love was a crutch used by those who had nothing to pretend they did. What was love to power? What was love to wealth? To fame? To greatness?

Love was the longest-running scam that Crocodile almost could be impressed with, if not for the fact that the sentiment around love made him want to gag.

Except, now he was actively looking for jewelry to buy you, flowers to deliver to your doorstep, and outfits to clothe you in for when you visited him.

It was almost disgusting how Crocodile was eagerly awaiting for your next arrival, for when he could be able to see you on the street or at his casino so he could see that face he adored so much. Those eyes that made him want to melt, that voice that echoed in his head, that smile that made him want to have an image of you adorned on his wall so he could always see it.

Something, he could never place what it was, drew him to you. Something made you seem to stand out to him in ways that no other could. He was Crocodile- world famous business man and pirate- he had no shortage of people throwing themselves at him or fearing him. Only to you was he trying his luck attempting to woo you to give him that look he loved. Only for you was he making excuse after excuse to continue seeing you, lying over and over that he had a reason to use you, that it was just a part of some master plan.

He exhaled another puff of his cigar and rubbed his temples.

Gods, why was he acting this way? He was Crocodile. Not a lovesick teenage boy, not some lonely man, not some simpering-

“Sir, (Y/n) has arrived.” His ears perked up as he quickly slicked back his hair.

“Is that so? Send them up,” he orders, grabbing his expensive cologne to spray onto him again.

Zoro

Zoro had never heard of the idea of soulmates or anything like that. When one lives, breathes, and dies by the sword, something like “soulmates” is just comical. He doesn’t need love to become the best swordsman. He didn’t need love to teach him how to pick up a sword and kill another with it. That was, in fact, the complete opposite of love.

Survival of the fittest, he thought. Nothing more, nothing less. You kill for bounties, bounties that pay, pay that gives you a chance to eat food. Nothing more to it. He never did more than he needed to, never worked harder for anything outside of his sword training and hunting. What else did a swordsman need to live?

He was currently drinking his fill at a local tavern of some random village he washed out upon. He didn’t care to get names, not when he was always moving, always killing, always leaving. “Zoro” was a passing chance encounter few got to ever meet or understand. He was fine with that. A bounty hunter didn’t need attachments. A bounty hunter definitely didn’t need someone weighing him down.

At the tavern, a few rowdy pirates were acting up. Yelling obscenities, throwing food and liquor at one another, making rude gestures- nothing out of the ordinary for drunk pirates. Zoro had no business with them, so he ignored them, continuing to order pint after pint.

It wasn’t until he heard a crash that he looked up. You were angrily yelling at one of the pirates who threw a drink at you, and his mates were drawing their weapons. It was clear you were outnumbered, so you looked around the bar for anyone that would help.

Normally, Zoro wouldn’t bother, figuring you dug your own grave by messing with pirates like that. However, when he glanced to your eyes, he found himself… staring. Lost. Entranced?

He didn’t know why he felt like he should protect you, but he always had a good intuition when it came to these sorts of things. He sighed, placed his mug down, then stood up, drawing his swords from their sheathes.

“Zoro,” he stated. A rare thing for him to admit so casually to a normal person. The pirates heard his name and shriveled up in fear. Zoro didn’t pay them any mind, instead tapping his sword against his shoulder impatiently. “Need me to shut these guys up?”

Mihawk

If you had asked a young Mihawk about love, he would have most certainly called you a fool for daring to think of such illogical things instead of focusing on one’s own strength and potential. While he had heard of the sentiments about love and soulmates before, he didn’t place much value into it. Love was a distraction from the training he could have done. Love was a waste of time. Love was just for weak-minded people who let themselves be vulnerable or gentle with another. Love wasn’t for people like him.

Which was why he was now trying to instill the opposite into his foolhardy protege, Zoro. Yes, yes, unfortunately, Mihawk was proven wrong from his earlier ways of thinking, and ever since then, he’s been doing his best to be a good man for you.

“I didn’t think a guy like you would have a partner…” Zoro would mumble.

“Of course I would. Do I not look like a suitable husband?” Mihawk replied as he was sipping his wine. “A marriage is only an aspect of your training and power.”

“How does cooking dinner help you train?” Zoro raised a brow, not believing a word.

“If you cannot handle a routine for even the most mundane and domestic of tasks, you cannot expect to be disciplined enough to train. If you think something like making your love a cup of tea or folding laundry is too hard or not worthy enough, you are not worthy enough to hold a sword.”

Zoro nodded, impressed by Mihawk’s reasoning (or maybe impressed at how you somehow made the world’s greatest swordsman so whipped and happy to make you dinner).

“Well, when you put it like that,” Zoro scratched his cheek, looking back at his mentor to see him staring at you longingly from the window. You and Perona were outside picking some of the vegetables at the garden, an activity you insisted upon doing despite Mihawk’s protests. You and the young lady were joking and laughing about something Perona said, and Mihawk sighed.

“Something wrong?” Zoro asked, unsure what Mihawk was thinking with his stoic appearance.

“No, not at all,” Mihawk shook his head, taking another sip.

“Then why did you sigh like that?” Zoro questioned. A smirk grew on Mihawk’s lips as he chuckled, continuing to look at you. You… you who were so special, who had become the apple of his eye, his strength, his joy, his passion.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand it right now, my student,” Mihawk closed his eyes. “Fate is… it’s simply a humorous thing.”

Corazon

He always was a sensitive soul, despite his outer appearance and harsh exterior. But even as a child, Law could tell something was up with Corazon.

“Why are you always looking at them?” Law grumpily asked, folding his arms and raising a brow at his benefactor.

“Hm? At who?” Corazon dumbly responded, cigarette in his lips.

“You know who I mean! Don’t act stupid!” Law shouted. Corazon chuckled and exhaled the smoke.

“Sorry, gotta be more specific.”

Of course, Corazon knew who Law was referring to. It wasn’t like Corazon had hidden his affection for you, but that was for another time. You were something special, something that Corazon yearned for but could never have. Not when Doflamingo’s influence was so large and looming over his life. But even if Corazon himself could not love you so freely, he always did like to tell the young boy stories. Of course, Law, being a jaded little boy, had never really given thought to such things like “soulmates” or “souls knowing each other”. That was stupid and impossible.

Corazon liked to believe, though. It comforted him. It made him feel happy that, hey, even if this life perhaps didn’t work out for him and you, at least he had known you before. At least he was able to see you again. At least he got you in his life for a moment, even if it would end in nothing but heartache and pain. At he least, for just a bit, he got to see that smile, those eyes, and feel your hands over his.

It made his life a little less hard, a little less dull. The romanticism that despite Doffy meddling in his life, Corazon still had a chance with you, was meant to know and be with you… well, that was plenty enough for him. It made him happier, too, knowing Law was perhaps a soul he was acquainted with before. It made him feel like he was always going to be guaranteed love and kindness with you and Law, even if the world was unkind to him.

Yes, this new family he had found was perhaps where he belonged the most. With you and Law by his side, there was nothing more he could ask for.

Shanks

“You’re obsessed.”

“Am not!” Shanks yelled childishly at Beckman, before turning back to face the island they were planning on docking at soon. The wide smile on his face made it clear he was beyond excited to be there, and the other men chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on running off to see em?” Yassop asked, knowing the answer.

“Oh, stop bugging about it! It’s just a little reunion with (Y/n), not anything crazy,” Shanks waved off. He breathed into his palm and winced at the smell of his breath. “Crap, does anyone have any mouthwash?”

“I don’t think anything can get that stench out. If they hadn’t run away cuz of your smell before, I think you’re good now!”

“Haha, very funny guys. Besides, it’s just between friends. Nothing weird.”

Of course, that was a bit of a fib, but who doesn’t tell little white lies? Surely he’d be forgiven for saying that by whomever was possibly in charge of making this happen?

Shanks, even with his overwhelming power and influence, did believe in superstition. It would be foolish not to, especially in such a dangerous world that a pirate inhabits. Sure, some of them were old wive’s tales from scared-straight sailors, but he did find them having some merit. He didn’t like to discount the seemingly impossible, not when it made even the most outlandish things possible.

He believed it was fate he got to meet Buggy and be a part of Roger’s crew. He believed it fate he met little Luffy in Foosha Village. He also believed it was fate he saved you that day. Some things just “made sense” like that to Shanks. It certainly made his life more interesting while also giving him a chance to bother you as always.

“Oh, come on, you can’t really kick out your soulmate, can you?” Shanks would tease.

“Soulmate?” You laugh. “Is this your attempt at proposing to me?”

“Hey, if you’d like it to be, I can absolutely make it happen,” Shanks replied, an earnest look in his eyes. You smile at him- crap, how do you always manage to make him ache and miss you? It’s gotta be fate, because no way could anyone have his heart in tight vice like this.

“Well… if you’re insisting, Captain,” you begin, smirking at him. “Why not take me with you? As your soulmate.”

Shanks’s eyes widened and the look on his face was a mixture of bewilderment and excitement.

“You know I can always make room for you,” he answered, trying to steady himself.

“Good. Although, we could share a room.”

“You drive a hard bargain, dear,” he chugs his rum. “Cheers to us!”

Law

Since he was a young boy, Law always tried to remain by himself. You couldn’t really trust anyone in a world of piracy and violence like that. Corazon, of course, always recommended otherwise. He even shared stories about a place where souls all were together.

It didn’t sound plausible or even remotely make sense. How would you even know if your soul was supposedly affiliated with someone?

It had been years since those days and the loss of Corazon, and even though he tried his hardest not to, Law still kept those stories in his mind. They were pointless and silly, but they were something Corazon believed wholeheartedly, even saying it was a miracle he got to meet a young Law. In some ways, Law felt somewhat similarly.

Love wasn’t for someone like Law. Too damaged, too cold, too logical, too afraid to ever let that feeling grow. It was how he stayed and remained for his life, and how he was planning on operating for the rest of time.

Until you, quite literally, crashed into him.

Jeez, you had to be a pest. Or a virus. Or a parasite. Something like that, but gosh, you were contagious. When you smiled, he found himself wanting to smile back. When you talked, he found himself thinking over every word you spoke in great detail. Maybe he was overthinking things, maybe when you said you were happy to have met him that was just you being friendly. Or something.

Almost always his mind drifted to you, feeling a certain way for you that he didn’t feel with the others in his crew or from the Straw Hats. You were different.

Perfect? Maybe. Definitely too good for someone like him, he’d think. But even with that self-loathing and apprehension, he found himself being drawn to you like a magnet.

Cora, if this is what you meant before…

Damn it, now he was letting things like soulmates and affinity cloud his judgment. He was a grown man, not a young boy, he didn’t need those silly delusions and ideas growing in his head and making him think he had a chance with you.

“Tora-o!” Luffy called. “Come here!!”

“No,” Law grumbled.

“Law,” you asked right after. “Do you mind helping me with this?”

“...yes,” he replied, stoically walking up to you to see what your problem was. Luffy gawked and pouted from the side, while a few of the others chuckled at Law.

[wisecura]

My Leader

Cult Leader Suguru x f!Reader 4k

an: did anyone ask for this? oh yeah! I did. enjoy my unrequested fantasy. this might be bad but oh well haha

summary: suguru geto was all for the betterment of the world—eradicating the non-sorcerers in society, and collecting people to stand in the new world with him. it's no different when he finds you—an untrained sorcerer, so eager and desperate for validation—a hint at sanity when no one else could see the monsters around you. but what happens if he takes you in only to find himself changing his mind.

warnings: pwp, voyeurism, gore, blood, murder, dark undertones, size kink, smut, you aren't in your right mind either, fingering, marking, manipulation, belittling and teasing, minors DNI

The last thing on your bucket list in life would’ve been joining a cult. 

Seriously, cult life was definitely not where you saw yourself in your early twenties—with all the time in the world still ahead of you. But, well, here you were.

That priest you'd met earlier? He'd been nothing short of a lighthouse for you—a beacon of hope during those endless, stressful days. You know, the ones haunted by those demon-looking creatures lurking just out of sight. And the craziest part? Nobody else seemed to see them. Yeah, you were pretty much alone in this freaky ghost-seeing club.

So, imagine the relief when the fifth priest you consulted turned out to be pure gold—a genuine miracle worker. Not only did he validate your sanity, but he also managed to kick that pesky little demon parasite on your shoulder to the curb. And suddenly, the world felt lighter. Easier.

And when he offered you a spot by his side, it didn't take much to convince you. Especially after he mentioned that those 'curses' were likely to make a comeback. Joining him seemed like a no-brainer.

But six months in with this man, and there was no ignoring the raw sex appeal he radiated. Standing several inches above you, he was large and imposing—hitting all your size-kink checkboxes. His features were sharply handsome, with plush lips that sparked envy and hair that never seemed out of place. His eyes? Absolutely captivating. Really, what did this man not have that wouldn't cause any sane woman to go feral? 

No wife, not even a girlfriend in sight, but he had two adoptive daughters whom he treated with the utmost care. A family man, right?

You hadn't fully realized what you were getting into when you'd first signed on—then again, you hadn't exactly been in your right mind. How else would you find the nerve to talk to such a handsome man without immediately dropping to your knees? 

And you were pretty sure Suguru wasn't all there either. He'd woven tales about jujutsu sorcerers, depicted them as the apex of evolution, even hinting that you had the potential to be one of them.

Something about ‘cursed energy’ or another. But he didn’t seem all that interested in filling you in on the rest. And you didn’t ask. Why bother when he was providing you a cushy life at the temple?

He treated you differently from the other cult members, always keeping you close. You never missed a service, always stationed right beside him. Silently, you'd watched as he delivered his visions of a new world. You tried to be the attentive follower you were supposed to be, but damn, he looked so good when he monologued. You practically swooned.

And he kept you around his girls, a privilege most other members couldn't even fathom—many didn’t even know they existed. You found yourself cooking for them, gradually forging your own little bond. They warmed up to you quickly, and it didn’t exactly come as a shock when they started seeing you as a mother figure.

This setup couldn’t have been better for Suguru, whose plans for you seemed singularly focused—your confinement.

You appeared so willing, so easygoing, so content under his care. 'Confinement' might sound a bit severe—maybe 'ensured stay' fits better? Whatever you chose to call it, Suguru wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

Just as you saw him as a shining beacon, he saw you as a diamond in the rough—a pretty little thing that happened to stumble into his temple. Desperate for answers, you had long since lost faith in any conventional sanctuary.

So, you found a cult.

A notorious one at that.

He wasn’t sure if you were aware of their more nefarious misdeeds—he was skilled at keeping things under wraps. The money he brought in always came from questionable sources, but you never pried. So he never told.

You meshed nicely with his chosen family, fitting in with everyone and proving quite useful. It felt out of character for him, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of your sweet, motherly image being tainted by the torturous grip of sorcerer politics just didn’t sit right with him.

No—you belonged in his temple. Guided cage ‘n all, well-supported, well-supplied, and nicely kept.

And maybe, when the time was right, he’d formally place his mark on you—maybe with a ring? Or perhaps a few choice bite marks? You always did wear those low-cut pajamas during breakfast, the expanse of your neck tantalizingly on display. You were definitely taunting him, that was for sure. He had plenty of ideas about what to do with you.

“Suguru?” 

Your voice, melodic even this early in the morning, managed to grab his attention—even before the coffee had kicked in. His name coming off your lips was sinful.

"Suguru?" You try again. His expression is dazed, distracted. The girls had already left for their tutoring sessions, leaving you alone with the enigmatic man.

Sometimes, you couldn’t quite figure him out. His moods swung wildly—from passive-aggressive and temperamental to overly dramatic. Charming, sure, but definitely a handful. Then there were moments like now, where he sat at the table, calm and stoic, clearly preoccupied with something on his mind.

“Mhm?” He hummed in response, as you set down another serving of eggs and rice. You didn’t know how to phrase the question, and you didn’t know what made you so nervous about asking. You were a human being, so this shouldn’t be an issue, free will ‘n all. “I was thinking of going out today. Did you...did you need me to pick anything up.” 

He paused at this, his brow raising inquisitively. "...What would you need to go out for?"

"Ah, well, a bit of this and that," you trailed off, looking away shyly. Truthfully, you wanted to pick up something for him as a way to say thanks, and maybe something for the girls too. Your money had been sitting idle, practically rotting in the bank—and you felt an urge to spoil the only people who seemed to care for you in your life. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Mmm, this and that?” He contemplated, his hand trailing back through his hair. “...Are you....that fed up with us?” You glanced over, hoping to find a teasing smile on his lips—only to meet his eyes downcast, locked onto the table. Melancholic.

You felt your heart ache at his words, you hadn’t meant to upset him. "Ah, no! I, uh—actually just wanted to pick up a few things. Why do you think I'd want away from you guys?" Your voice trailed off, a small laugh attempting to lighten the mood, as you made your own plate. "You’re my family now, after all."

His eyes raked down your back, unbeknownst to you. The situation was far from ideal, but he was determined to keep you content enough not to leave. Perhaps he could even scare you into staying? Your name slipped effortlessly from his lips, a breathy utterance that gripped his chest—selling his concern perfectly.

“I’m worried about you, y'know?”

“Worried? Why?” You continued your setup, your back unsuspectingly facing him.

“If anyone outside of here spots you...well, I’m not exactly a celebrated man in the sorcerer community. They could easily take you the second you step out of this temple. And you’re practically a magnet for those curses—that energy you put off is something else.” His voice trailed off as his mind seemed to drift away, even as you peeked over your shoulder at him.

You weren't completely in the dark about his reputation in the community-the fearful stares from one or two of the followers told you that. You weren't even surprised about his growing concern for you. It was nice, in a way, having someone like him show this level of concern for you.

"Really, it means a lot that you're looking out for me, Suguru. I love that you keep me safe—I do, but I also don't want to just take from you all the time," you say, turning fully to face him, the concern evident in your eyes.

He flashes you a reassuring, warming smile, that makes your chest stutter. "I understand, but you're not just taking. You're a part of this family, a crucial part. It's my responsibility to keep you safe, and I take that seriously," he explains, his tone gentle yet firm. "Maybe, for now, online shopping could be a better option. It'll keep you out of sight from those who might not understand our...situation here. You can still have some independence without the risk. How does that sound?"

It wasn't exaclty a questions and more like a rule he's already set in place. His words hang in the air, wrapped in the guise of caring, yet subtly steering you to remain within the confines of the temple, minimizing your contact with the outside world.

Those next few months settled into a routine, and you never left the temple as per Suguru's 'request'. But during his sermons, you couldn't help but notice a strange man in the congregation—an older dude who couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. It was unsettling, creepy even, and every time you caught his gaze, it made you want to leave the room immediately.

And when you were handing out the pamphlets for the evening, his hand managed to pass along your hand just a little too sensually, causing you to jerk back, as if burned. Your polite smile still remained but you couldn't stop the uneasy turning of your stomach.

You tried your best to ignore it, concentrating instead on the magnetic presence of Suguru, the leader whose charisma had always managed to overshadow any discomfort. Focusing on him, with his intense gaze and compelling sermons, you hoped the creepy feelings triggered by that strange man's stares would simply melt away.

For a time, it seemed to work. The incident faded to the back of your mind, barely a blip on your radar—that is, until Suguru himself brought it up.

It was after dinner, during your usual walk back to your room, a routine that had become a comforting part of your daily life under his watch. As you strolled down the quiet corridor, his voice broke the silence, casual yet probing. “Did you know that man?”

His gaze was stern, pinning you under a scrutiny that seemed to see right through you. You could have played dumb, feigned ignorance, and questioned which man he was referring to. Maybe then he would've let it go, attributing it to his own overprotectiveness. Maybe.

But you didn't like the way that man's eyes had roamed over you, as if he was trying to claim you or imagining what lay beneath your clean robes. Maybe Suguru would do something about it? After all, he often dismissively called his followers 'monkeys,' a clear sign he didn't hold them in high regard. “No, I don’t know him,” you responded, a shiver running through you that Suguru didn't miss. “He’s a bit weird, right? I didn’t think you had followers like that.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, pausing you both in the hall. The dim moonlight streaming through a nearby window could have given the scene a nearly romantic quality if not for the concern etched deep within his furrowed brow. “Alright,” he finally said, the word hanging in the air before he turned to continue guiding you back to your room.

That was it. No further questions, no reassurances—just a simple acknowledgment and then moving on. It felt anticlimactic, almost dismissive, and a part of you felt almost offended.

But then again, what had you really expected?

That was what you thought before you saw red. 

But it wasn't just the red. It was the heavy, metallic, coppery smell that suddenly choked the air, thick and invasive. The way the splatter violently stained your white robes, soaking into the fabric, marring them beyond recognition. The congealed remnants of what once was a person spread grotesquely across the cold floor, as his lifeless eyes stared back at you. His mouth hung open in a final, silent scream of horror as if he could still hear the words spewing from the priest's mouth. 

“Does anyone else have any issues with this?” The question sliced through the tense silence of what seemed like a routine board meeting, discussing the mundane affairs of the company. Suguru's tone was far too light, disturbingly cavalier, given the blood soaking his front, nonchalantly wiping off a stray drop that had dared to mar his gorgeous face. To your surprise, no one objected, their eyes locked on the decapitated head lying before you. You had seen the curse—the one that had been produced and sent by Suguru. And maybe you were the crazy one for feeling a little flustered by his actions—heart fluttering.

Or should they be called reactions? The so-called necessary consequences he deemed necessary for your safety.

“Suguru.” His eyes shifted back to you, almost expecting to find fear. The sight of blood wasn’t for everyone, and he was fully prepared to sic a curse on you should you attempt to flee. But what he was met with was so unexpected—your flushed face, your grip tight on his sleeve, almost like clinging to your own lifeline. That oh-so-adorable look in your eyes, innocently seeking his attention.

This had been a bit of a test, an evaluation to see how you would respond to his more...abrasive nature. And he just couldn't stand the way that 'monkey' had his eyes locked on you, the way his fingers had dared to trail over your sleeve—as if he had the right to touch.

As you reached over to wipe a lingering trace of blood from his cheek, his reaction was swift, instantly, his hand snaps around your wrist. His eyes rake over you, and the disapproval in his gaze makes you feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over you.

"That filthy monkey blood is all over you now," he remarks, his tone dripping with disdain. After a moment's pause, a small smile curls the corners of his mouth. His grip remains firm on your wrist as he guides you over to his seat at the front of the congregation, giving you a thorough once-over before finally releasing you. 

Nonchalantly, he shrugs the top of his robes down his shoulders, revealing a chest and abs that are absolutely sculpted to impossible perfection.

You'd always known he was handsome, but this? This was something else. He was not just attractive- he was, without a doubt, ripped. Settling down, he effortlessly pulls you into his lap, facing him. You're up close now, close enough to see the way he gazed so affectionately down at you—your heart racing and skipping several beats in response.

If you were blushing before, now you were certain you must look as bright as a tomato. You avert your gaze, only to find yourself face-to-face with his impeccably sculpted chest. Your hands, you realize, are already on him—likely from when he first pulled you onto his lap.

A smug smirk plays across his lips as he scans the crowd, his gaze predatory and possessive. It's a clear message to everyone present: you were off-limits to anyone but him. Held in his strong arms, you feel almost too soft, so compliant and utterly his, as if you belonged nowhere else but here.

His whisper is just for you, a soft murmur that tickles your ear, “Do you like what you see?” His eyes remain fixed on the crowd behind you, and thank god for that—you're practically melting in his lap. You're at a loss for words, and though under different circumstances you might have shot back a flirty retort, the intensity of the moment leaves you speechless.

His gaze locks with yours again, piercing and intense. He scrutinizes your form once again—flushed and trembling, the ugly stains of blood soaked into your clothes. Your clothes.

His hands begin to undo the lace at the front of your robes. In a panic, you reach up to stop him, embarrassed—not necessarily by his attention, but overwhelmingly by the many eyes watching from behind. "Suguru," you hiss, your voice a whisper thick with embarrassment and a plea for some semblance of privacy or restraint.

But his gaze halts you. It's firm, stern—like a mother scolding her child. Overwhelmed by his intense stare, your resistance melts away. You find yourself clinging to his arms, resting your head against his chest as he peels away the robes stained by the blood, liberating your skin from the filth. 

“Did I say you could leave?”

At his words, the shuffling of footsteps behind you to come to an abrupt halt. You can almost sense the veiled fear and shock painting the faces of those behind you, the tension in the air so thick it’s suffocating, uncuttable even with the sharpest blade. As you squirm uncomfortably in his lap, you feel the unmistakable shift of the large bulge beneath you. This fucker was actually turned on by this? 

But were you any better? You buried your face even deeper into his chest, inadvertently drawing his smug attention. "What's wrong, princess? You feelin’ shy?" His tone was taunting, so uncharacteristic of him. You'd never heard anything like that from those lips in all the time you'd known him, and that thought alone made you want to bury your face in a pillow and scream. 

You nod, barely managing to keep your composure, only to feel his hands, which had been supporting his weight behind him, shift up to your thighs, drawing you even closer. The movement causes your panty-clad pussy to rub against the large snake you were saddled on. You hadn't intended to let out that needy whimper, but the accidental friction against your clit had you digging your nails in tighter. 

"Is my sweet girl actually wet?" His tone is laced with mock disbelief. You don’t respond, but that doesn’t deter him, his fingers reaching between your legs, seeking confirmation for himself. You feel this thumb graze that oh so exquisitely sensitive spot, leaving you jolting in his lap, his fat fingers grazing past your clit over to your slick drippy folds.

“Tsk tsk tsk, sweet girl, you’re practically dripping. Are you alright?” His voice drips with obvious mock concern, and the distraction of his thumb pressing back against your button, drawing circles–makes it impossible to form a coherent response.

"You're all worked up—so red. You must've been so upset when that bastard put his hands on you," he murmurs, and your back arches as he picks up the pace, his hand circling your waist to hold you flush against him. His touch is assertive, almost commanding, drawing reactions from you that you'd never gotten from a toy.

"Uh uh, look here," his voice suddenly goes cold, detached. Your eyes snap up to his face, only to find his gaze directed over your shoulder, at the long since forgotten crowd behind you. Oh shit. What were you doing? His next words slice through the thick air, his tone sharp as a knife.

"You monkeys seem to forget your place." The room holds it's breath, and suddenly, you're painfully aware of the many eyes on you, the precarious position you're in—a spectacle for the small crowd. A shudder travels down your spine as his fingers relentlessly continue their exploration. You can't stop the slick trail trailing from you, soaking your underwear further. Your hips buck involuntarily towards his hand, even as his words echo hollowly through the room. "Should I just remind you? None of you should be touching what isn’t yours…"

The word "yours" spins your head, and you shamelessly whimper out. "My naughty girl, do you really enjoy this that much?" His tone is teasing, yet there's an edge of possession that sends another shiver through you. His touch intensifies again, and you tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by his presence.

Pulling away, he finally gives your chest some much-needed attention, slipping the cup of your bra below your rounded tits. His gaze is appreciative as he kneads one into his mouth, sucking greedily. And in an instant you're pinned to the floor beneath him, flat on your back, his bulge still pressing insistently against you. 

The shift is swift, his body covering yours, providing the room an unobstructed view of him devouring you. Yet, your focus remains solely on him—his broad shoulders, the smooth expanse of his chest, and the stiff muscles that hint at hours spent perfecting them. Your eyes finally settle on the large bulge that he keeps grinding into you.

And grind he does, his clothed cock taking over the work of his fingers, each motion stripping your throat of the whimpers and whines that spill forth—sounds that surely only spur him on further.

Caught in this intense, consuming moment, you're hyper-aware of every contact, every movement, and every gaze set on you, heightening every sensation as you lose yourself to the rhythm he dictates. He’s a greedy lover, taking every inch he can get before finally pulling himself free from his robes, his cock springing forth—thick and demanding.

His gaze is hungry as he eyes you, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers darkly, "You like putting on a show, don't you? Just look at you, so desperate and dripping for me while they all watch. You’re nothing but a little exhibitionist, aren’t you?"

His words are taunting, debauched, as your pussy clenches, a flush of shame and excitement as he pulls your panties down teasingly slow. Straightening to his full height, he sighs at the sight of your pretty pink folds, completely on display for him. He’d be the one to ruin you, of course. No one else was allowed to touch what was his.

He spits on his length, a heavy sheen as he strokes in long and slow passes over his bulbous head. Your eyes are fixated on the curve, every inch of him on display. His eyes remain fixed on the heave of your chest, his words only for you, "You're completely mine, aren't you? Every shiver, every sigh... I want them all." Before you can answer, he has himself positioned at your entrance, sheathing himself completely inside you, filling your clingy pussy entirely in one fluid motion. 

The guttural moan he shares with you is nothing short of primal, as he pulls back and then hammers back into you with a quick, forceful thrusts, your honeyed slickness making it all too easy. The furrow in his brow is ever-present, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that's damn near animalistic. You don't recognize the man filling you so completely.

You reach up to touch him, but one of his meaty hands pins both of yours above your head in a swift, assertive move, his strength incomparable. "Feels so good, princess, so fucking good, aah," his words stutter out, breathlessly, as his hips meet yours again in a relentless, brutal pace.

His cock stretches you perfectly, hitting that sweet spot that always seemed to elude the ex-boyfriends you'd dated. The slaps of his hips meeting your dripping pussy were echoing the room, as your head lolled back you managed to catch sight of a few of the faces of the men watching, and you had half a mind to be embarrassed. You whimpered, trying to hit your face into the crook of your shoulder, only to have his other hand snap onto your chin, his dick continuing the abuse your cervix.

Leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers huskily, "C'mon now, don’t play shy." You could hear the grin in his voice, "You aren’t fooling anyone, not with the way this cunt is clenching me—ngh—so fucking—good." His words punctuated by each powerful thrust into your sopping hole, his breathing growing heavier as his fat balls slapped against you. You've never come without your clit being teased before, but you were sure you could squirt all over him from those words and his stretch alone.

"Such a pretty little slut for me," he growled as he drove into you, "lettin’ me stuff you so full." His words came out in low purrs, his hand still firmly clamped on your wrists and chin, ensuring you couldn’t see anyone else but him. "Gonna let me breed you in front of all these pathetic bastards? Show everyone who owns this cunt?" You felt your pussy clamp down tightly on him—earning a sharp hiss from him as he tightened his grip around your neck. You could barely breathe, your vision narrowing as you came hard around his cock, your body stiffening, unable to think straight. 

He continued to fuck you stupid, relentless, "You love being my filthy little fuck toy, don't you?" his breath, hot against your ear. "Just a wet hole for me to use, right in front of everyone." You couldn't even make a sound, your head fuzzy and body already sore. "fucking—ngh—gonna breed this pussy full, baby—gonna—mmgh," His voice was ragged as your walls spasmed around him, his hold on your neck like a predator with limp prey, as he let out the loudest moan yet, "gonna cum, gonna—" and with that, he spilled himself deep inside you, his hot seed mixing with your release.

You felt his hips continue to rut against you, his gaze fierce and possessive—a rabid dog with his treat, heaving, refusing to pull out. He unclenched your neck as you gasped in a deep, burning breath of air, lungs finally refilling. The onlookers were the furthest thing from your mind, until you were abruptly brought back to reality by his commanding voice–leaving no room for argument,

"Now get the fuck out of here." 

As the command left his lips, the onlookers, still frozen from the raw display they had witnessed, hesitated for a moment before scrambling away. All you heard were retreating footsteps. The room quickly emptied, leaving just the echo of their footsteps and the heavy breathing that filled the space between you and him.

Still inside you, he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes still burning with that possessive intensity. "Look at what you do to me," he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers trailed lazily over your skin, marking paths where his earlier grip had been.

He pushed back into you slowly, coaxing a whimper from your oversensitive body, "Just look at you, all flushed and beautifully wrecked for me. You took me so well," he praised, his tone heavy with satisfaction. His fingers delicately traced the marks his grip had left on your neck, his mark now visibly etched onto your skin.

"You're mine, remember that. Every inch of you, every gasp, everything—it all belongs to me."

come home

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

Safe Haven Hangman

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: cheating; unplanned pregnancy; swearing; smut; angst

.

.

I’m laying on the couch and stupid romcoms blare from the TV. For some reason, my eyes glance down to the coffee table. They land on our wedding photo. Bradley is cupping my face with his hands, about to kiss me as I beam up at him. “AGHH!” I throw the remote at the frame and watch it fall to the ground, shattering. Tears fall down my cheeks as I think about the events of the past few weeks. Our 4th wedding anniversary. How he was so happy, showering me with presents and affection. After the months of emotional distance, I couldn’t believe it. The next day was when my world came crashing down. A letter in the mailbox that was addressed “Mrs. Bradshaw”. A long, handwritten confession from a young woman. Tear stains marked the page. She said she never knew about me. She said Bradley told her he would leave me when they found out she was pregnant. That was 4 weeks ago. I haven’t spoken to Bradley yet, but the front door lock has been changed. He hasn’t tried to come home. He has tried to call a few times and has left hundreds of texts. I texted him this morning to come over to grab his things, but he hasn’t answered. I have felt angry, sad, vengeful.. every damn emotion under the sun. There’s a knock at the door and I yell, “Not right now, Bradley!!” There’s a soft voice on the other side of the door, “Y/n, it’s me. Please let me in.” I wipe my cheek and walk to the door. “Jake, I am fine.” “No you aren’t.” I open the door and he throws his arms around me. I breathe in his scent, cedar wood and jet fuel. Jake and I met a decade ago, the same night I met Bradley. I was the new tech guru at Top Gun. Phoenix had invited me out to the Hard Deck with the squad. Jake caught my eye, but Bradley made the first move. Before I knew it we were dating. Then engaged. Then married with a house not too far from base. Jake was there for everything. He wasn’t just Bradley’s friend, he was mine too. He was the first one I’d call if something happened when Bradley was deployed. He’d drop whatever, or whoever he was doing to come help. He has been trying to get a hold of me for weeks, but I have shut myself in the house since the letter. Maverick approved my last minute leave, no questions asked. Jake pulls back and scans my face, “Y/n, talk to me.” I walk to the office and hand him the letter. He reads slowly, like he can’t believe what he sees. After a few minutes he sets it down, “Has he been here?” I shake my head and I see a muscle in his jaw twitch, “What do you need me to do?” I shrug, “I put everything of his in boxes. My attorney already sent over paperwork. I just need to have him come over and sign it. Can I ask you something?” Jake nods and I look down at my hands, “Did you ever see him with her?” Jake puts his hand on my shoulder, “No. I noticed he was acting strangely, but if I saw anything I would’ve told you.” Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into him. His scent calms me down. I hear keys try the lock and then the doorbell rings. I look at my phone. Bradley had responded.

B: Anything you want. On my way.

Jake grabs my hand as I walk towards the door, “Do you want me to be here for this?” “Please. Just stay in the office for right now. I’ll let you know if I need you.” He nods, turning back into the office.

.

.

I open the door and Bradley is staring at his feet. I motion for him to come in and he follows me to the kitchen. He looks over to the pile of his things in boxes. I sigh, “It’s all there.” His glassy eyes meet mine, “You changed the locks.” I scoff, “You got another woman pregnant.” “Y/n, I never meant for any of this to happen. You know how much I love you. How much I always will.” I slide the folder filled with paperwork towards him, “If you love me so much you can sign these, take your things, and leave.” He opens the folder and tears spill down his cheeks. Bradley reads through it all and I hand him a pen, “Once you sign this, everything is done. No court, no drama. You owe me this, B.” He takes the pen and signs, “Are you gonna sell the house? I see here that’s all you want. You can have whatever, Y/n. I mean it.” I shake my head, “I just want the house. I don’t need your money. I’ll be just fine.” “I’d be okay to pay spousal support. Or give you half of my retirement? After everything it would make me feel-“ I laugh, “B, I don’t care what will make you feel better. Your money means nothing to me. Your money won’t help me. You broke my heart. You are building the life I wanted with someone else. I want you to be as far away from me as possible.” He nods and silently walks boxes to the Bronco. When he grabs the last one he turns back, “So this is it?” I nod and grab my rings out of my pocket, handing them to him. “You can keep those. Really I don’t mind.” Tears sting my eyes, “B, I don’t want them. Please take them back.” Bradley slides them into his pocket and gives me a weak smile, “I’m sorry, Y/n. Take care of yourself, okay?” I nod, “You too.” I shut the door and slide down until I am sitting on the floor with my head in my hands. Jake walks over slowly and sits beside me, “You okay?” I can’t even look up, “10 years. 10 years went down the drain in what, a few weeks? And he is the one crying? He started a whole new life with her! And then he asks me if this is it? Who does he think he is?!” Jake pulls me into his chest and holds me tight while I sob. My body is shaking and it feels like I can’t breathe. I’m not sure how long I cry for, but it feels like forever. Once I calm down, we stand up and Jake wipes a tear off of my cheek, “Hey, how about I order your favorite take out and put on a movie? Just like we would during deployments?” I smile and nod my head, reminiscing on all the times Jake was there for me. How kind he always was. How he always noticed the little things. Bradley meant well, at least at first he did. He was always wrapped up in the next mission or training. Part of me always hoped he would retire young and we could actually live. Travel. Enjoy each other. But now I know how our story ends, and it is far from anything I imagined.

.

.

When I get out of the shower, Jake is on the couch with our takeout on the coffee table. He chuckles, “I kind of ordered too much because I didn’t know what you wanted.” “Thank you, Jake. You really don’t have to do this for me.” “Yes I do. You have been one of my closest friends for a decade, Y/n. I hate seeing you like this.” I nudge him with my elbow, “I’ll be okay. I’m thinking about going somewhere far away, rural. Maybe getting some cattle. And a couple of dogs.” “Okay while that does sound great, you don’t have to leave. You know how much Top Gun relies on you.” My eyes get watery all over again, “I know. I don’t want to leave y’all. Y’all are my family. I’ll think about it.” He turns on a comedy and I try to turn my brain off. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I wake up to the sun shining and I am in my bedroom. There’s a note on my nightstand,

Y/n,

Didn’t want to wake you. Have an early morning, but call if you need anything. Hydrate.

Jake

There’s a glass of water beside the note. I smile and put the note in my top drawer. Jake may be known as the jerk of the squad, but he has always treated me so gently. My mind starts to wander. What would have happened if Jake made the first move? Does he ever think about when we first met? He had been flirty and sweet, but Bradley was bold. He swept me off my feet. But what if it had been Jake? I shake the thought out of my head and log onto my computer to start chipping away at all of the paperwork that has piled up in my absence.

.

.

Friday morning rolls around and I throw on my uniform. I have to go back at some point, so I might as well get it over with. The engine of my truck purrs as I make my way to base. Once I park, I walk quickly to my office. There were some hello���s from the squad. I smile and wave. After a few minutes, there’s a knock on my door. “Hey Mav, come in.” He sits down on my couch, “Was wondering when I’d see you again! How are you, kid?” “As good as you’d guess.” He shakes his head, “Hangman talked to me. And Bradshaw. I want you to be the first to know, Bradshaw will be PCSing to Norfolk. He’s reporting Monday.” I feel a pit in my stomach. Tears sting my eyes, “Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know.” Mav stands up and puts his arms out, “Come here.” I hug him tight and he pats my back before going to the hangar. I look out my window to see a banner that says, “Bon Voyage, Rooster!” Rolling my eyes, I sit back down and keep working. A few hours later, Jake walks in. “Ever heard of knocking?” “I thought friends didn’t have to knock?” “How was the going away party?” He shrugs, “Stupid. Everyone knows what he did. Doesn’t feel like we should be celebrating him.” I laugh, “Let me guess, The Hard Deck tonight?” He walks over and leans on my desk, “Bingo. I’m not really in the mood for that though.” “When are you not in the mood to go drink and pick up women?” He fiddles with my cup of pens, “You know, Y/n, maybe I am finally growing up.” Jake hits me with his shiny white smile and I laugh, “Well I’m going to go by the water to look at the stars tonight, if you wanna join?” “I’ll look for your lantern?” I smile and nod, remembering the first time he found me on the beach. Jake bought a house a few down from ours and Bradley was gone on a very dangerous mission. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go listen to the waves. I had taken my lantern with me and Jake saw it from his back porch. When he came down to check on me, he found me crying and curled up in a blanket. Jake sat there with me until the sun came up. Back then, I wrote it off as him being a good friend. As I sit here with him leaning on my desk, I wonder if that’s all it was. His fingers brush mine, “See you later.” I gulp, “See ya, Jake.”

.

.

When I get home, I take a long shower to wash off the day. Thankfully Bradley stayed far away from me. I go through my closet, wondering what to wear. I settle on a cute little matching set. I make sure to spray my favorite perfume, it smells sweet and floral. I fix my hair in the mirror and then it hits me, what am I doing? Trying to look cute for Jake? A wave of guilt washes over me and I wonder if Bradley felt it when he was with that woman. The sun finally sets, so I grab my blanket and lantern. I head out to my favorite spot right past the dunes. When we bought the house, I was so excited to have the beach as my backyard. It quickly became my getaway. I lay down and gaze up at the stars. The sound of the waves soothes my soul. It isn’t too long before I hear someone walking my way. Jake’s deep voice and southern drawl brings me back down to Earth, “Hey there, Y/n.” He sits beside me and his hand rests on mine, “Hey, Jake.” “See any constellations tonight?” “Ursa Major is right over there.” I stare off at the stars and when I turn back Jake is staring at me. I giggle, “What?” He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “Right now you look like.. you. You haven’t looked like yourself in a while.” I raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” Obviously I know what he means. I knew something was wrong in our marriage. It weighed on me for months. Jake takes a deep breath, “You stopped laughing. And smiling. You stopped being you. I love when you are you.” His eyes meet mine, green and sincere. I smile, “You do?” “Always have, Y/n.” Jake moves closer, just enough to make my heart jump into my throat. I try to collect myself, “You have?” I feel his breath as he responds, “Yes ma’am. Remember that night? At the Hard Deck? Bradshaw got to you first. I have been kicking myself for the last decade.” His eyes are locked in to mine and my heart is pounding out of my chest. Jake’s lips are less than an inch from mine. I thought this would feel wrong, but every part of me wants him. My head is telling me to stop but my heart wins the argument. I lean in just a touch, our lips brushing. Jake’s green eyes turn dark and he whispers, “Are you sure?” I whimper, “Please, Jake.” Our lips meet. He starts off gentle, sliding a hand into my hair. Then his kiss grows hungry, greedy even. It is like he can’t get enough. His hands explore my waist and the curve of my hips. I nibble on his bottom lip and he smirks. His lips move down my neck and he decorates my collarbone with sloppy kisses. I moan, “Mmmm, Jake.” He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, “I have wanted this for so long.” I smile and push him back into the sand, kissing him in a way I never have before. It’s every ounce of tension that has been bottled up between us. It’s an amount of passion that I have never known. We roll around in the sand and I feel like a teenager again. His hands explore under my sweater and he grins, “A lacy bra? For me?” Heat spreads to my cheeks, “Maybe.” He kisses my neck, “Lacy bra. Perfume. You’re really spoiling me, aren’t you darling?” The pet name makes me crazy. I grab the back of his neck and pull him down to me, kissing him like it is my source of oxygen. The creak of my back gate makes us jump apart, fixing ourselves quickly and turning to see who it is.

.

.

An all too familiar voice calls out, “Y/n! Baby! You out here? The front door is locked!” I stand up with the lantern, “Bradley? You don’t live here anymore.” He walks closer and notices Jake, “Hey! Hangman! What’s up dude?” He is obviously hammered. Someone from work must’ve dropped him off, not knowing he’s moved out. Bradley starts wobbling and I go to his side, steadying him. “Thanks baby. What are you up to? You look so pretty.” I sigh, “B, you need to go back to wherever you’ve been staying. Can I call you an uber?” He shakes his head, “Nooo. I want to sleep at home tonight. I miss home. I miss you.” “Bradley, you can’t sleep here. Where have you been staying?” Bradley looks between Jake and I, his drunk brain trying to process what he sees. He finally asks, “Hangman, why are you with my wife? It’s late. You should be out drinking. Lots of ladies at the bar tonight.” Jake shakes his head, “I’m good. Let’s get you back to Bob’s so you can go to bed.” Bradley shakes his head, “No no no. I don’t wanna go. Tell me why you’re with my wife!” I put my hand on Bradley’s chest, “You need to leave, okay?” I order an Uber to Bob’s and we walk him to the sidewalk. He turns to me, “Have you been sleeping with Jake?” I shake my head, “No, B. The only one that cheated in our marriage was you.” He hangs his head and the Uber arrives. We load him in, then head back to the water. Silence surrounds us. Jake finally clears his throat, “I understand if you want me to go.” I shake my head, “Please don’t.” He kisses the top of my head. I take his hand and lead him inside my house.

.

.

This past week I decided to redecorate. Jake looks around, “I like it. Very you. Very Texas.” He motions to my Longhorn memorabilia and I chuckle, “You know, if you weren’t so damn old we could’ve met in college.” Jake rolls his eyes, “I’m only 8 years older than you. We could always take a little trip and go to a football game.. if you wanted to.” I smirk. Jake Seresin. Hangman. Talking about a trip. The man who I have watched avoid relationships like the plague for the last decade. “I’d like that. You know how much I love football.” We sit on the couch and have a couple of beers. Our conversations switch from work, to our friend group, to our families. I’m starting to yawn and Jake stands up, “I can head home.” I stand up and take his hand, “Or you could stay? If you wanted to.” He tilts my chin up and kisses me deeply, “Of course I do.” As he follows me to the bedroom, I realize how nervous I am. We lay beside each other on the bed and watch a lighthearted romcom. I play with his hair, “Can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “I am so nervous. The way you touch me.. and look at me.. I..” “You haven’t felt this before?” I shake my head, “Not even close.” He smiles and kisses me gently, “Me either.” Jake continues kissing me, his hands roaming my body slowly and deliberately. He nibbles on my ear and whispers, “You are breathtaking.” My breath hitches and I run my hands over his abs, “Did you mean what you said? About the first night we met?” He nods, “Every word. Have you thought about it, too?” I blush, “I shouldn’t have, but I did.” Jake kisses my neck sloppily, “When would you think about it?” I moan, “On the nights he wouldn’t touch me.” Jake’s eyes grow darker like before, “Oh really? Did you think about me any other times?” “Way more than I’d like to admit.” I smirk and bat my eyelashes. Jake’s voice is almost a growl, “Fuck, Y/n.” I kiss his jawline and down his neck. We finally take a breath, and he pulls me in close to his chest. I look up at him, “Didn’t think you’d be the cuddling type.” He chuckles, “Usually I am not.” He plays with my hair and I could get used to this. The affection. The spark. It could be the newness. It could be the guilt. But, I am going to savor every moment of this feeling.

[miioouu]

Ghost's tattoos

This was supposed to be a sweet, wholesome little idea, but like…it’s me, what else did we expect? Also, I’m trying to fight my months long writer’s block so I'm sorry if this sucks, let me get some practice in before I tackle the Mean dbf ghost series.

Warning: suggestive, genre of reader not mentioned, lowkey condescending

Wc: 963

Everyone around the base has had a glance of the Lieutenant’s tattooed sleeve. He usually prefers to keep it covered, although most of his tattoos don't have a deep meaning behind them, or at least that’s what he says; it still felt too personal, too vulnerable to show around.

But you, you were the only person who had seen it all. Not just the tattoos, but the scars, the wounds, the scratches that all decorated his arms; and no matter how many hours you spent tracing every line on his body, you could never get enough of it, it's just so fascinating.

So surely it's no surprise to either of you (or anyone, it's not like you kept your relationship hidden), when some sergeant loses you, only to find you in Simon's office, sitting by his side as he signs whatever paperworks that have occupied his whole attention for the past couple of hours, your eyes trained on his hand, watching as the veins twist, disappear and appear again with each movement, tracing up to his wrist, a little up to the sliver of skin showing; a beauty mark here, a small raised white line of a scar there, dark ink…everywhere. The beginning of a skull tattoo peeking out his sleeve, some roman numbers that you never bothered to question its symbolism, knowing he'll say something along the lines of ‘nothing important’ or ‘don't worry about it, sweets’. You two were close, yes, but Simon and his secrets were closer, he loves to keep his privacy, his walls built strong and high, and although you managed to slither through some bricks, it wasn’t enough.

But you’re not one to dwell on this, not when people leave you alone with him, not when he groans as he stretches; his fitted black tee lifting up and exposing a glimpse of his happy trail. Your eyes would’ve strayed further south, remembering what he has hidden under those army pants, if it weren’t for his fingers grabbing your chin, making you hold his gaze for a moment before he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart?”

Simon was sweet to you, always, no matter what, and you loved that, you really did, but not when you’re so obviously desperate for him. Not when your thighs are rubbing together, not when your lashes are batting at him, not when you’re pouting, too frustrated to word your needs out. And he knows it. He knows you don’t want him to dote on you right now; it’s all his fault, he assumes, not having given you the attention you deserve lately.

So he did what he always does, what he knows will get the tender smile back on your face; he leaned back against his chair, it squeaked under his weight, he spread his legs, enough for you to sink to your knees between them. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, feeling the slightly chapped skin under his finger, chuckling “Sweets, you need to stop biting those precious lips of yours, hmm?” but he doesn’t mean it, of course he doesn’t. There’s nothing hotter in his mind than your pearly whites digging in your pinkish plumpness, especially when you’re looking up at him with those fake innocent eyes, like you were doing right now.

His thumb pushed past your lips, feeling the edges of your front teeth before rubbing against the tip of your tongue. The action itself was lewd, but something about Simon’s softness made it so much more wholesome; like a kiss to the cheek, like the rubbing of noses against each other, like a caress of a hand against an arm… How does a man so big, so full of violence and tragedies be so…kind?

And you need to appreciate him, right? That’s the right thing to do; wrap your lips around his digit, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste of his skin, and you suck, softly, sweetly, as if you’re savouring the last bite of your favourite dessert; the only difference is that Simon would never deprive you have him. You pull out slowly, a pop echoing in the room, his finger glistening under the white light of his office, but you’re not done coating him with your spit, far from it. Your tongue darts out, licking a strip all the way to his wrist only to later on, then press kisses to his palm and then back up. Your eyes zero on the black ink; a thick line that slowly thins out as it curves, depicting a skull, you follow it with your hot muscle, retracing every line etched on his flesh, and you feel him stiffen under your touch, his breath hitching and he mumbles out a curse “Bloody hell, sweetheart… you’re being so good.” This man has the audacity to smile, a warm one that has your heart skip a beat, that has the knot in your stomach tighten even more, and it makes you want to slap it off his face; why is he acting like an angel when you feel your blood hotter than the flames of hell?!

You scoff, pulling away, and you know you should ask permission before guiding your hands to his belt, but come on, he can’t expect you to be proper now. Although it's your fault for taking advantage of his kindness, in a swift motion he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks together to stop you; he knows you, you’re predictable, he slips his fingers, two this time inside your mouth again “Ah, ah, lovie. I still got so many papers to read…be a good one and suck on my fingers for now, can’t let you distract me too much…”

[cheriecoke]

hi rylie!! thank you sm for the recs! and since you said your inbox is open …

could i maybe request a fic where nanami proposes to you? like a spur of the moment thing where it’s not really the “right time” but he just springs out the question bc he wants you forever 🥹😮‍💨

thank you a bajillion! <3

my everything

FEATURING: nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: after nanami remembers how short life can be, he realizes he wants to spend the rest of his with you.

CONTENTS: takes place during jjk 0, slight angst per usual, marriage proposals, sorcerer!reader, nanami's pov, happy ending

note: thank you for this sweet request!! i kind of took it and ran w it, but this was so much fun to write :) i hope you enjoy lovely!! <;33

Kento couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so afraid.

The gnawing feeling of dread was as heavy as the ring in his pocket, the one that he now regretted hanging onto for so long. Shinjuku streets were drenched in the blood of so many curses, humans, and sorcerers and it sickened him, reminded him that life could be cut short at any moment. There was a reason that he’d quit Jujutsu so many years ago, and he started to wonder if he’d made the right decision in coming back.

Kento sorted through the bodies, scanned the mangled corpses for any sign of your familiar face. He never spotted you, but he wasn’t certain if it was a relief that you were nowhere to be found.

Satoru stood at the edge of the street, his forehead lined with sweat, the pale bandages falling away from his icy eyes. Briefly, he dropped the façade that always lingered, and it was obvious how tired he was. How much everything had beaten him down in the last decade and refused to let up.

In that moment, Kento felt sorry for him. Then, Satoru resumed his usual air of arrogance, straightened his back, and the natural balance fell between them once more.

In just a few strides, Kento was upon him, his hair unruly, shirt wrinkled as the tie remained still crumpled around his hand. His muscles ached and he longed for a shower—though any of those trivial thoughts were outweighed by his incessant need to find you.

“Where is she?” The words hung in the air before Kento realized they’d left his lips at all.

Satoru hesitated, almost unwilling to hand over his confession so easily. “I sent her back to the school.”

Kento clenched his fists, but Satoru was defending himself before any irrational actions could be taken.

“She insisted, Nanami.”

Still, he couldn’t help but wish that Satoru had ignored your pleas, even if Kento was unsurprised that you’d volunteered to stand by the students’ side. You weren’t the type of person to let a few first and second years go up against a special grade on their own, no matter how strong they were.

Satoru was squeezing Kento’s shoulder before he had even noticed the movement. Something in his expression had darkened, and though Kento normally would’ve shoved him off, put some distance between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he could remember a time when Satoru Gojo looked so somber. “I wouldn’t have sent them there if I wasn’t certain they’d be alright. I’m not as cruel as you might think.”

Kento knew that he had never behaved warmly towards his ex-classmate, but his opinion of the man was not as low as Satoru believed. For better or worse, Satoru loved his students, and though he pushed them, Kento knew he would never put them into an undefeatable danger.

He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest as Satoru’s hand fell away from his shoulder. “Just take me to her, Gojo.”

Satoru nodded, his lips curling down into a frown before he was teleporting them both back to the high school. There, the sight was even more dismal than Kento had expected. Many of the buildings had been destroyed and there were clear residuals from many sorcerers and curses. It was chaos, a grim sight to behold, and they weren’t even past the gate.

The anxiety twisted up in his chest, and inwardly, he prayed, hopeful that you were as fine as Satoru believed. That Geto, in every inch of his darkened heart, would hesitate when it came to killing an old friend.

“Hey,” Satoru said, tying up the blindfold once more, tightening it across his snowy hair. “She’s fine. This, I’m certain of.”

Kento’s lips were too dry to even offer a thank you, even though Satoru probably deserved it, for all the sacrifices he made, all the time. Instead, he nodded, and turned away from the tall man, haunted by a memory of him once as young as the students that had been left behind to protect humanity.

The leaves and gravel crunched under Kento’s feet as he ran up to the school, taking in the sheer destruction that had befallen the place he’d once called home. It made him ache with a longing for a simpler time, even though he could never go back, and the boy he’d been was long gone.

It was a brisk night—the kind of night that you normally would’ve spent bundled up inside, a bowl of hot soup between you, a movie running while you rested your head against Kento’s shoulder, dozing off before the credits rolled.

That’s how his night should’ve gone. Instead, he was searching every crushed piece of building, every pile of rubble in case your body had been caught between it.

Kento knew that the life of a sorcerer was a miserable one, that it was easy to lose the people you cared about, but he wasn’t certain he’d be able to go on for much longer if he lost you.

The ring was even heavier in his pocket, weighing him down, making it near impossible to move. If you hadn’t survived, Kento would never forgive himself for waiting so long to propose.

He called your name, ripping off his glasses in any attempt to see you better, wondering where you could’ve disappeared to, hoping that you hadn’t died alone.

The grounds, it seemed, had been hollowed out completely, and for the first time, Kento wondered if Gojo was wrong about his old friend.

Panic clawed up his chest, scratching at his throat, sending him into an illogical spiral before a small, shaky voice from behind him brought him back to reality, a light that parted through the black night, so sweet and heavenly to his ears.

“Kento?”

He turned, blinked as you swayed on your feet, making your way slowly down the steps of the main building. You walked awkwardly on your ankle, though you pushed on, heading towards him despite the pain.

For a moment, he watched, and then he was upon you without even acknowledging his movements, two long strides that brought him back to his salvation.

Kento pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the undeniable truth that you were still alive, even as you winced from his stronghold, your arms limp at your sides.

“Fuck,” Kento said, kissing you on the top of the head, your hairline, forehead. His eyes were glossy with tears that had been held back by his remaining shreds of hope. “You scared me there for a second, sweetheart.”

Your hands were on his chest, tracing his bicep before you curled your fingers around his jaw, bringing his gaze to your own. The touch was light, searching for any wounds that hid under his stained button-up. “I’m okay,” you said, softly, even though your face was bruised, your ankle twisted, and you were bleeding from more places than one. “Are you?”

Kento nearly laughed, wondering how you could even think to ask that question when he was untouched compared to you. Though, the amusement died immediately when you looked at him with so much concern that he melted, and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “I’m okay.”

You nodded, expression serious as you attempted to ingrain the words into your mind, convince yourself that everything would be alright, even though things hadn’t been that way in nearly a decade. You kept your hands on him, as if waiting for some wounds to appear, for him to start bleeding into your palm, even though his injuries went no further than some sore muscles.

“And everyone else?”

Kento pulled you into his chest, running a hand up and down your back, wishing that he could heal you as easily as Shoko could, that a gentle touch could fix everything that had ever soiled your life. “Everyone’s fine,” he said, and as far as he knew, that was true. “A little beat up, but they’re alive.”

You exhaled, nodding into his chest as you rested your weight on him.

Kento would gladly bear it, would carry you all the way home if need be.

Briefly, you were silent, before you squeezed your eyes shut painfully and grimaced. “I got the students to Shoko, but they were all so hurt, so badly,” you swallowed, digging your fingers into his shirt, and Kento suddenly hated that Satoru hadn’t sent him with you, even if he was needed in the city. “Geto—”

You stopped yourself, and said nothing more, heartbroken by a boy you had too many fond memories of to ever see in a malicious light. It was difficult for everyone who’d ever known him back then, even if he hadn’t been that way in a decade.

Kento swallowed and you pushed away your tears, buried whatever conversation had transpired earlier between you and the dark-haired sorcerer.

Though, you’d resolved to be everything that Geto was not. That, at least, had been one positive outcome of his betrayal. “It’s not your fault, love.”

“I should’ve been more prepared to kill him, Kento. I’m not as strong as him, but I should’ve been able to hold him off until Gojo—” You choked back a cry before standing straight, shaking your head. “I tried too hard to reason with him. I left it to a student, and—”

“Hey,” Kento held your cheeks tight in his palms, forcing you to gain a better perspective of the situation. You looked up at him with soft, lost eyes, and Kento was filled with a swell of adoration for you, for the strength that came with the vastness of your heart.

Despite all you’d suffered, you’d managed a smile, been the light in Kento’s life, even when he’d wanted to do nothing but wallow in his own misery. If not for you, he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve come back to being a sorcerer at all. If not for you, Kento would’ve been lost, without an ounce of meaning in his life.

You were so foolish for thinking you hadn’t done enough, when you’d done more for him than he could put into words. Kento’s love for you was enormous, and in that moment, he would’ve let the rest of the world collapse in on itself if it meant you’d be safe and happy.

“Any of us would’ve done the same. Do you really believe that Gojo would’ve so easily killed Geto without speaking to him first? Would I have?”

The look didn’t dissipate from your irises, but you didn’t disagree with him, and that was enough. Kento kissed you, deeply, putting every ounce of affection into that single touch. Everyone had made it out of the night alive, and you’d been there for the students when it mattered the most. That was more than he could say, at least.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else, Kento,” you said, blinking at him once more with those sad eyes, ones that he never wanted to see on your normally bright expression. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, even though he knew that there was no way he could keep it, an oath that was almost destined to be broken. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You and I both know that you can’t be sure of that,” you said, backing out of his embrace to wrap a protective arm around yourself. The smile that graced your lips was sad, defeated. “Our world is not merciful enough.”

Kento knew that better than anyone, and he’d been reminded of it that evening. Reminded of the loss that befell those who wanted to fight for a better world, and even those who didn’t. Death didn’t give any warning, didn’t choose based off anything more than a random draw. “Then I’ll promise to love you until the day I die. That, at least, is a vow I won’t ever break.”

The ring in his pocket was practically vibrating now, reminding him how little the non-necessities of life mattered to him. All this time, he been waiting for the perfect moment, to plan everything down to the very last detail.

It seemed meaningless now.

You squeezed his hand, your face brightening despite your sorrow, lips tugging up sideways. “I can promise the same.” Kento’s heart swelled, and you kissed his cheek before dragging him a few steps forward so the two of you were walking in time together. “We should go check on the students. I want Shoko to check my ankle too. I’ve suffered worse, but it’s starting to swell pretty badly.”

Kento nodded, though his mind was too busy whirling with fears of a wedding that might never happen, that you might never know he was going to propose if he didn’t do it soon. You could be snatched away from him at any moment, or perhaps, he could leave this world with the ring still in his pocket, and you’d only know once you found it on his corpse.

Kento wouldn’t forgive himself, even in death, if he didn’t do what he’d been wanting to do for months.

With one arm around your shoulder, he reached the other into his pocket, twirling the box. He wasn’t even sure why he carried it with him that night when he could’ve so easily lost it in the middle of battle.

Yet, there it was, lingering, the constant weight in his pocket that rested against his hip. He swallowed, and you looked up at him, your lips falling back once more into a frown.

“Hey,” you said, slowing your pace, concern evident in your expression. “Is something wrong? Did something happen in Shinjuku, Kento? I didn’t mean to just brush off—”

Kento shook his head, shushing you quickly. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind, and he wrapped the tiny box up in his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head again before holding the box out, presenting it to you calmly, without any spike in his normal tone. “I just was thinking about how I was going to ask you to marry me.”

You stopped completely, your pupils blown wide as you took the box from him with shaky hands, blinking back down at it before meeting his tender brown eyes. “Kento?” you said again, calmly, as if waiting for him to explain.

A beat of silence passed between you. Kento, suddenly, felt nervous around you for the first time in a long while.

“Truthfully, I was going to prepare a long-winded speech and buy you some flowers and take you out for dinner. But,” he cleared his throat, regaining his composure as he flipped the lid of the velvety box, revealing the sparkling ring he’d spend hours searching for. “I love you too much to waste any more time. Somehow, until tonight, I’d forgotten how short life can be. I just want to spend every moment I can as your husband.”

Your eyes became glossy as you stared down at the beautiful gem, lifting the ring out of the box to slide onto your finger. As expected, it fit you perfectly, shimmering in the pale light, the perfect complement to your skin. Kento gently took your hand, kissing the knuckle right below the jewelry.

“I’ll propose again to you properly,” he said, laughing quietly, though if it was because of your silence or the joy lodged within him, he couldn’t be certain. “Without all the blood and the—"

“Kento.” Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence, harsh and passionate despite your injuries. Fingers curled around his chin, holding him into place, making him forget all the horrors that had occurred that evening. “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a grandiose display to know I want to be with you forever. I love you too much.”

Kento’s chest warmed, that bundle of affection within him bursting, making its way through every ounce of his being. There, you seemed to glow brighter, every day making you more beautiful than before, and he wondered how it could be possible that he could feel so much for one person.

He relaxed, unknowingly tense, and kissed you again on the forehead, his arms around your shoulder once more. “I should’ve done it sooner.”

You smiled and caressed the harsh bones of his cheeks, shaking your head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” You laughed, pulling him down by the tie, pressing a kiss between his brows to ease the wrinkle there. “Besides, now you’ve turned this awful night into something special. I don’t have to remember this day with a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Kento returned your smile, but it was still weak, even with all of the adoration he felt for you.

Though, when you beamed at the ring, your eyes soft, all of the previous despair gone, he knew that everything would be alright. Perhaps his timing had been less than ideal, but he would do it over and over again if only to ease away the misery from your face.

“So, then you will marry me?” he said again, wanting to hear the words from your lips, even though there was no doubt in his mind.

You rolled your eyes playfully, noticing his teasing smile and indulged him. “Yes, Kento.” You kissed his cheek, letting out a sharp exhale. “I’ll marry you. I would’ve always said yes, even back when we were silly, lovesick teenagers.” You sighed theatrically, adjusting his tie. “Who knows why. You had such a ridiculous haircut back then.”

Kento’s cheeks grew warm, splitting with the force of his smile, one that only seemed to appear with you at his side. Despite all of the horrible things that had happened in all of your lives, he was grateful that there were good moments too.

“Well, I still managed to win over the prettiest girl in the world, didn’t I?” he said, ghosting the words as he laced his fingers with your own, squeezing tight. “Now I get to call her my fiancée.”

You mumbled something less than kind under your breath, but Kento could feel the warmth on your cheeks, the flush the began from your neck.

He laughed, continuing his path back to the infirmary, where the students were likely waiting for you to return safe and sound. “Come on, I’m taking you to see Shoko. I wouldn’t want my future wife’s injuries to get any worse, would I?”

And though the both of you knew your injuries were minimal, your eyes brightened as the skin around them wrinkled, and Kento knew that whatever happened after this, he would live and die a happy man.

[targaryenluvs]

if you’re still taking requests, what about a dark fic for coryo who takes advantage of a reader with one sided love for him, expecting her to be there for him and love him no matter what. so when he comes back to the capitol after all the district 12 drama expecting her to be his one consistency in life, he can’t take it when he sees she’s moved on

LATE TO THE PARTY!

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: after corio was sent away to district 12, you managed to come to terms with the fact that he did not love you by any means. but what happens when he realises he liked that affection? and what happens when you’re already in a relationship?

warnings: dark!corio, possessiveness, unrequited love (both sides at different times), pining, stalkingish, home wrecker corio, nc kiss, paparazzi, power dynamics/abuse of power for selfish reasons and intimidation

a/n: let’s let corio chase our ass for once 🙄🙄 shorter than i expected but i just wrote it all so here you go!!!

his hair was different.

you didn’t mind it but it’d been a while since you’d seen coriolanus, in all his glory, family name restored, fortune acquired and highway to power paved out. old you, in-love-with-coriolanus you would’ve fainted.

but you had moved on from him.

you had charles now and you could not have asked for anyone better. he was always there for you, actually payed attention to you and was literally everything a girl dreamed for. and you are content. but at times you felt as if it was just that. content. he didn’t challenge you, and your thoughts. he didn’t ignite passion and fire within you, every time he looked at you it was, meh. the sex was vanilla and cute but you always were left frustrated. you were being treated as if you were fragile whilst you wanted roughness.

coriolanus could tell. ever since he came back and saw you with him, you never looked your best as you usually did. whether it was snappiness at interns or fiddling with your nails, something was up. and he took it as a sign, you needed saving. so he did exactly that.

charles had been away on business in district one for a month now. as if him being present and not doing the most when you were together wasn’t enough, now you had nothing. no one. and god were you pent up and frustrated. half of your interns were always stumbling over each other and the rest were too confident in themselves. you needed a vacation. even if for a night only. that came in the form of a party invitation.

if you’d known who’s party invitation then you would have been sure to decline.

the dress you wore wasn’t yours. your maid had delivered it to you whilst you were in your study working. she said it was left on the doorstep, no claim of responsibility but a letter.

I hope you choose to wear it, the dress is almost as gorgeous as you are, Y/n.

- C.S

and for the life of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of who it came from. but it truly was breathtaking there was no doubt about it. off the shoulders and red, it complimented you well.

you took note of the amount of reporters which was odd. but you were here to have a good time, best to not focus on them and ruin your day. you were so ready to stuff your face after barely having time for it through the day.

the party was surprisingly tame, there seemed to be a lot of whispering and stares pointed your way but you tried not to let it affect you. perhaps they were surprised by you attending alone? you and charles had decided not to rush your relationship so you’d kept it secret to the larger part of the captiol. only your family and friends knew. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of them knowing something you didn’t.

“everyone please gather for coriolanus outside.” you may have given yourself whiplash at the announcement. this was coriolanus’s party? you never expected him to be the type to hold one in all honestly, let alone dish out speeches. but there he stood tall and towering over. his eyes zeroed in on you the second you joined the moving crowd, it was unnerving to say the least.

the faces in the crowd were largely people you didn’t know personally, first names and last rung through your head as you smiled at some and walked past, trying to make your way to the front. but the crowd seemed to huddle, not letting you through for some reason. a hand on your wrist dragged you away, which had you pulling to have it let go of you. the swarms of heads and bodies obscured your vision and the person was unseen by you.

it wasn’t long before you were being pushed up steps and standing to the side of coriolanus. why the hell did they place you up here?

“the lovely y/n l/n-“ coriolanus stretched his open palm, inviting you to take it. the fuck is going on? your eyes were looking into his for an answer and his were looking at you, secretive. “has been the object of my desire, and after chasing her down, she’s agreed to marry me.” flashes went off every which way as you stood still. there’s no way i heard that right. right?

but him pressing his lips to yours and a hand to your back shook you out of your daydream as you pushed him away. not that anyone noticed. “what are you doing?” you scolded him, your back to the crowd as he smiled, his hand stroking your cheek before leaning down and whispering, “taking what’s mine.”

you couldn’t sleep that night, or in the morning. it was your day off from work yet no one was letting you rest. letters, videos, flowers and more sent to your apartment, all congratulating yourself and your fiancée coriolanus. bleh.

you didn’t even know how you were going to tell charles all that happened. would he believe you? would he hate you? how are you supposed to be with him whilst coriolanus announced your marriage. not engagement, marriage. as in this is happening, and we’re already engaged. you’d be breaking of a marriage that hadn’t been planned nor known, by you at least.

your answer came in the form of charles’s letter, wish you and coriolanus well.

My Dear Sweetheart,

I’d hoped to hear of your time away from me in a good way. That you’d made progress with the interns or been promoted.

But it seems in my time away I’ve left you alone, too alone, for you’ve found comfort in the arms of your past. I wish no ill towards you, nor your soon to be husband Coriolanus. The two of you are a fine match, made for eachother.

I only wish you had told me before I left, for I was planning on surprising you with a ring of my own. I guess it’ll have to wait for another. I know it is selfish of me to say so, but I cannot deny the feelings I still harbour for you.

You’re as kind as a mother, as gorgeous as ever, you remind me of the night stars, I know you will shine bright in the capitol. Your smile brings me to remember all the things I love about you. Your soft skin reminds of silk,and your gentle eyes bring me to sleep, I do hope Coriolanus appreciates you as much as I do. I am always here for you yet I will have to settle for the memories and another woman.

I love you my dear, and I wish you the best.

Yours Only,

Charles

it felt as if your heart had been ripped out, you’d lost the love of your life because of coriolanus’s selfishness. and you couldn’t ever escape from him now.

your love for him was for everyone to see, yet he dismissed it when he had it. but his love for you was a secret, kept close to his heart. he only noticed you once you’d moved on from him, and to coriolanus? you couldn’t move on. too bad you didn’t see it till now.

you were late to the party.

[webslingingslasher]

hi babeeee!!! idk if this is how requests work bc i never request fics but i was wondering if u could do something super duper angsty, like really angsty, and then hurt comfort with a fluffy end? it can be anything you want, but like that sort of timeline would be so so so good, if u could and if requests r open,, xoxoxox

it may have taken me 12 years but i did it bestie.

Peter Parker wasn’t the type of boyfriend to have rules. 

You were your own person, and should live as one. However, there were some things he was a bit more passionate about. 

Like: texting him when you get home (and he wasn’t around), calling him if you feel unsafe or nervous, keep him informed of your whereabouts so he could try and track you down if he needed to, and always, always, call him back. 

Peter had one rule, let him know you're safe. Always. Even when you’re mad at eachother, even at your most ugly, you’d let him know you’re okay. It was Peter’s one true rule, the other things he liked and he preferred you’d do, but this was his number one thing. 

And you’re not following it. 

The third time you ignored his call he felt frustration brew so deeply he almost slammed his phone to the ground, it would’ve done nothing to fix anything, and would’ve made a bigger problem, but the satisfaction of watching something break apart into a million pieces would’ve made him feel better. Even if just for a moment. 

It’s almost like you knew it’s pissing him off, you’ve never dug this deeply into a wound. You knew it would get under his skin in the right places, it was something that either of you didn’t play with. It was too serious for Peter, and knowing you were most likely safe and just doing this to try and get even with him made him furious. Because he can’t prove it. And because he can’t all he could think about how not okay you might be. 

Peter hates leaving angry voicemails but he can’t stop himself this time. 

‘This is the fourth fucking call you’ve ignored, I think you proved your point. I know you’re mad at me but this is just childish, you made this night go from a small hiccup to a massive fight because you won’t answer your phone. Just call me back, goddamn it.’ 

Peter’s never once gotten loud with you, he’s never once felt enough rage towards you he could ever buck up enough energy to yell at you. But all he wanted to do was scream about how inconsiderate you were. He understands he may have started it, he even tried to apologize but you must’ve had this in your heart for a minute because you couldn’t wait to bulldoze him. 

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I got caught up in the low-’ 

‘Whatever, I don’t care. I’m going home.’ 

‘Hey, no, no, no! We can still hang out! I haven’t ate-’ 

‘I did. I waited over an hour, Peter. I’m going home.’ 

‘I’m sorry, I really am, baby. I know tonight was important to you.’ 

And that’s when the night switched. 

‘No, Peter, this wasn’t important to me. This was important for us, this was about you trying to prove you still care about us.’ 

‘Woah, hold on, don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t care about you or us, that’s unfair and you know it.’ 

‘You know what, Peter? I didn’t sign up to date two guys. I was willing to accept the other because it was a package deal, but I’m tired of being picked last. You know I’ll always be waiting around and it’s so fucking tiresome just waiting around.’ 

‘Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were signing up for, you don’t get to act like this is new news.’ 

‘I’m always picked last! I understand who you are, Peter, who you share a life with, trust me, if anyone here knows best about understanding, it’s fucking me, but that doesn’t mean I’m always the last priority. I know sometimes I have to be on the backburner, and guess what, Peter? I fucking understand. But, tonight? What stopped you? Because it’s not like there’s a domestic attack on the city, so tell me, what was so fucking important tonight I was shot to the bottom of the list for it?’ 

‘Okay, I get it. I know you’re mad, but I think we both need to take a breath and talk about this at home.’ 

‘No! I want you to look at me and tell me what was so important NYPD’s finest couldn’t handle it for an evening.’ 

‘Baby, I really don’t-’ 

‘Fucking tell me! I want you to admit right now it was nothing important. Look me in the eye and admit you didn’t care about my feelings.’ 

‘It was a robbery. I have a responsibility to keep the city safe, a city you very much live in, by the way.’ 

‘Ah, the classic, ‘if you really think about it, I’m doing this for you’ line. Real original.’ 

‘Can we please just go home? If you’re going to be pissed at me anyways I’d rather it be in the comfort of our home.’

‘You can go wherever you want, but I’m not going anywhere with you.’ 

‘I’m gonna get a cab, hold on.’ 

‘No, I’m not going anywhere with you and I mean it.’ 

‘You can hate me at home, let’s go.’ 

‘No! I’m leaving, you can sit around waiting on me for once.’ 

‘Why are you doing this now? You’ve never been this persistent before, I moved in with you and you still don’t think it’s enough. What else do you want from me? I’m giving you all I can, fuck.’ 

‘You know what? I hope someone fucking kidnaps me, maybe then I’d be your first choice.’ 

‘Don’t, don’t you even dare go there. You know that’s a low blow.’

‘I do. I hope I’m fucking tortured with you on the line, too.’ 

Peter tried calling out for you, screamed your name even, but you walked across the street and were swallowed into the crowd. He tugged at his hair a few times before looking around, he wasn’t sure what to do. Get a cab, bus, train? Does he walk in the direction you went? It’s a start. 

Pulling out his phone he tried calling, you sent him to voicemail on the second ring. You’re pissed, that’s fine, he just needs you mad and safe. Peter dodged bodies on his left and right, checking each alleyway for you, assuming you’d stop to collect yourself and call him when you had a breather. 

No sight of you. He doesn’t know where you went from here, it splits two ways. He tries using his boyfriend intuition and attempts to channel you, he’s left hopeless. Like a hail mary he remembers you share locations, Peter’s hands shake when he reaches for the app, your name loading until a small circle appears in his. 

You’re close. He follows the road forward, he knows you took this way and his heart squeezes. You deliberately took the sketchy route, the one you told Peter you wouldn’t dare walk without him. It looks like he’s getting closer, but it’s impossible to tell when he has to wait for it to constantly reload. 

Peter swears he can see your jacket ahead, he calls your phone, picking up the pace and trying his best to catch up. You blocked his call again, but he saw you do it.

He knows you heard your name get called, because you started to walk faster, it’s useless, Peter’s quicker. The only option you had was to hide in the crowd, squeezing yourself in the middle and out through the front. Sighing heavy at your escape, and a bit unamused by the childish behavior. Peter looked down at his phone refreshing your name ‘find friends.’ 

His face crumbled into a thousand pieces when the notification appeared, ‘- stopped sharing their location with you.’ His response was to call you, this time you let it ring out, and he left a nasty voicemail. It was like he snapped, he pulled at his curls and exhaled a loud ‘fuck!’ before gripping his phone so tight he thought it’d snap, and that's why he put it away. 

If you wanted to play dirty so could he, you’re hard to find from the street but when he’s swinging from building to building you’d be out of luck. He was tired and hungry, he wanted this to be over. Fight about it like grown adults, at home, while he’s making a grilled cheese or something. 

Peter ran down a back alleyway, ripping his clothes from his body and pulling his mask from his pocket. The suit came in handy tonight after all. Taking a sharp inhale, he took a leap, screaming out when he took flight. 

‘Not you, not you, not you, not…. You? No, not you.’ 

‘Where the fuck did you go?’ 

You were nowhere to be found, still no answer on his calls or texts. He knows it’s irrational, but he’s terrified you’ve jinxed yourself and really are in trouble. He’s taken the route on a spin three times and he still hasn’t seen you, there’s three options, you either went into a gay nightclub, were kidnapped, or somehow snuck your way across the road and into… central park. 

Of course you did, Peter should’ve known that. He told you one time it was a weak vantage point, he couldn’t see through the treelines all that well, and didn’t have much to swing from. At least he has a general idea of where you are, he just has to do it on foot. 

Maybe you were right, maybe he just sucked at prioritizing you now. He doesn’t know when he became this way. He just feels so responsible, he got a great gift and it’s only right he shares it. He just hasn’t figured out how to share Peter with you and Spider-Man with the world yet. Both people need him at the same time. 

At last, sitting on the edge of the fountain, is the love of his life. Just looking terribly sad, he hates to know he caused it. He may have started the fight, but you said some terrible things, things that were only said to jab at the most vulnerable spots. 

Taking a seat next to you he sighs, his entire body deflating in one breath. You mimic the sigh. 

“Rough night?” 

You hum, “my boyfriend and I got in a fight. Maybe we still are, I don’t know. What about you?” 

Peter stretches his legs, red feet scrape the brick. “My girlfriend went nuclear, kinda deserved. But, she also really hurt my feelings.” 

“Did you hurt her feelings too?” 

“Does that make it deserved?” 

Silence. It didn’t. 

Peter watches you twiddle your thumbs, chewing on your bottom lip and sniffing. 

“I’m sure she’s really sorry, and she knows whatever she said hit a soft spot. It seems like your job comes with some downsides, and maybe she kept it all bottled up until she couldn’t anymore, because how do you tell a superhero you want their attention more than a city needs protection?” 

He knows what you mean, he knows how selfish it could sound, but it’s not. You’re allowed to want him around every second, because he does too. 

“You don’t.” 

Peter can feel your eyes, “you don’t tell the superhero, you tell your boyfriend.” 

Your throat clears, “what if he’s both? What if he’s already spread too thin and his whining girlfriend is his last straw?” 

“No. He’s not spread too thin. He was unaware of how you felt, he didn’t know how much it bothered you. He didn’t know how far he pushed you away.” 

“So what changes now he knows?” 

Peter breaks character, this is about real solutions. 

“We figure it out. We’ll go home and look at our schedules and work around it, and have a set day where it’s only us. Twice a month we’ll have a standing date, attendance mandatory. The police scanner gets turned off unless it’s a slow night, and from now on, unless it’s a domestic attack, nothing comes before you.”