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wwinterwitch · 10 months

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cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away.

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do?

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive.

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes

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yelenasdiary · 4 months

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Hii, can I request something like Reader is friends with Florence or Yelena (you can choose) and they were traveling for work and had to spend like a week in Las Vegas, and one night they got super drunk and got married to each other. Like, how they would react to waking up the next morning with a ring on their finger (bonus points if they're naked lol).

I just love your writing so much 💙 but don't feel pressured to write it if you don't want to ~ 🐳

Waking Up In Vegas

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Reader

Summary: When Kate throws a party for an undercover mission, it opens the door to you and Yelena to have a little fun, maybe a little too much fun…

Fluff? Idk, maybe more comfort?

Warnings: Enemies to loves kind of vibe?, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of gambling, language warning, suggestive themes, Mentions of being sick & hung over | 1.9K

AC: I love this idea; I am also a little biased because I enjoyed the movie lmao, but I hope you enjoy this & thank you for sending it! x

"Remember, don't blow this!" Kate's voice came through to your earpiece. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at your friend's reminder, "focus on your mission, bishop" you replied before taking a sip of your drink. Kate's plan was to lure her target by throwing a small party at a casino and to your surprise she was able to get Yelena to help her out, considering that Yelena hated the idea of being an Avenger of any kind. The blonde took a seat next to you at the bar, sighing when you looked over to her.

"I'm surprised to see you here" you said under your breath just so she could hear.

"It seems that Kate Bishop needed some real help" she replied, downing a shot of vodka the minute the bartender walked away. You chuckled, "it's always a pleasure to see you, Belova" you replied. You could say that you and Yelena were never really the best of friends, she hated everything you stood for almost and you didn't understand why she didn't want to put her widow skills into helping the world. Although she always told you that she was helping the world another way, you just assumed she hated working in a team.

"I could say the same about you, but it never is a pleasure" Yelena replied, reaching over the bar and grabbing an entire bottle of vodka. "Hey!" The bartender called out, rushing over to the blonde. "Calm down, I was going to pay" Yelena said, her thick accent making it clear to the man behind the bar that she was probably somebody not to mess with. She placed some money on the bar which he took with an eye roll and watched as Yelena popped the lid off and poured herself another drink.

"Isn't that a waste of money for you? I mean, does the vodka even affect you at all?" you asked. Yelena looked up at you and chuckled, "it does, eventually. It just means I get to drink more than you can before making a fool of myself"

You rolled your eyes at her sarcasm before you pulled out a small bottle and placed it on the bar, "maybe you should try this" you said.

"What would that be?" Yelena asked.

"Asgardian Ale" you replied confidently. Yelena raised a brow, "you mean what the gods drink?" She questioned. You nodded as you downed what was left of your drink and began to pour some Ale into your glass. With a quick flick of her wrist, Yelena's shot glass slid down to you.

"You're not one for manners, are you?" You cocked a brow.

"You offered me a drink, I'll thank you when that glass is back in my hand"

This was what it was always like for you two, bickering with one another. "Guys your earpieces are still on" Kate's voice rang through the small device in your right ear, "do you both still have eyes on the target?" She asked. You poured Yelena a shot of the strong ale and slid it back down to you, "he hasn't moved an inch" you informed Kate.

"Still gambling away those stolen millions" Yelena added.

"Just, stay focused!" Kate said.

"Looks like we're in for a long night, Belova" you turned slightly to face Yelena, drink in hand as you slightly raised it up. Yelena sighed in agreement before clinking her glass with yours. She threw the drink down the back of her throat like it was nothing, you couldn't help but chuckle before taking a mouthful of your drink.

——

The loud banging on the hotel door woke Yelena, she groaned to herself as she slowly sat up. Her eyes barely staying awake, her head throbbing with a headache, the consistent knocking wasn't helping. She looked to her left and suddenly her eyes stopped fighting the need to be closed. There you lay, naked with the bed sheet barely covering you, peacefully sleeping. Yelena's eyes dropped to her own body before her mind went wild trying to remember the events of last night.

"Yelena! Open the door!" She heard Kate's call bringing her thoughts back. Yelena stumbled out of bed, grabbing the first two pieces of clothing she saw as she dressed herself as she made her way to the door.

"Kate Bishop, do you know how to be quiet when somebody is hung over?" Yelena groaned. Kate cocked a brow, "hung over? You? Really?" She questioned.

"What do you want Kate Bishop?" Yelena asked sternly.

"Come on, it's been like what? 5 years and you're still calling me by my full name?"

"It's been 3 and yes" Yelena replied.

"Right. Well, I just wanted to come by and thank you for the help last night, I know you hate all this Avenger business but it was much appreciated" Kate smiled. Yelena frowned, wondering how somebody could be so cheerful and happy so early in the morning. "You should probably have a shower, might help with the hang over" the archer added.

"You're welcome, I'm going to take that shower now" Yelena replied, "I'll see you later Kate Bishop" she added before closing the door.

Her head was pounding more than before, she'd never felt such a strong hangover before she thought as she made her way back to the bedroom. You hadn't moved a muscle which amazed Yelena considering she believed that Kate had probably woken up a few guests on the floor. Before Yelena knew it, she was back in bed and everything was black once more, peace and quiet to sleep off her headache.

By the time you slowly began to wake up it was already a little after midday, you didn't drink near as much as Yelena, but you drank enough to feel your stomach turning as you slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It took a second for you to notice the blonde sleeping beside you, your eyes widened when you noticed it was Yelena.

"Oh fuck!" You mumbled to yourself as you pulled the bed sheet over your naked body, "Yelena!" You nudged her. "Wake up!" You said, nudging her a little harder.

"Mmm" she mumbled as she stirred. Annoyed with her lack of concern, you kicked her out of bed.

"What was that for?!" Yelena spat as she picked herself up off the floor, "oh I don't know, maybe because I'm naked in your bed in your hotel room?" You snapped, "what the hell happened last night?" You asked, running one hand through your hair only for it to get caught in your locks.

"All I remember is drinking a shot of that Asgardian Ale and the next thing I know; I'm waking up to Kate Bishop banging on the door and you kicking me out of bed!" Yelena explained.

"Oh no" you mumbled after finally untangling your hand from your hair. A small silver band on your ring finger only added to the list of worries, you looked up at Yelena who was also looking at a similar ring on her ring finger. "Please tell me we didn't get married" you said.

"Don't be stupid, we weren't that drunk" Yelena replied, "right?" She added unsurely when she noticed the ring on her finger. You rolled your eyes as you threw your head back onto the pillow, "this cannot be happening right now" you sighed as you covered your face with your hands. The room became silent, you tried your best to rack your brain for any memories of last night but like Yelena you couldn't remember anything after the two of you shared a couple of Thor's drink.

Yelena wandered into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to keep her from needing extra sleep. "I will never trust you with alcohol again" you heard her say as she made her way back to the bedroom. Slowly, you sat back up and placed your feet on the floor. The bed sheet still wrapped around you as you scanned the room to find your clothing only to find it scattered from the living room to the bedroom. "I can't believe you did trust me" you muttered in reply, walking by her and locking yourself in the bathroom. "Look where that got me" Yelena replied.

----

The evaluator dinged as the doors began to slide open, both you and Yelena were greeted with a very happy, to happy, Kate Bishop with a smile from ear to ear she couldn't help hiding the chuckle that she let out as the two of you walked towards her.

"What's so funny?" You asked with a cocked brow. After having a shower and returning to your own room to change into fresh clothes, you felt a little better, but a good meal was going to make you feel much better. Kate invited you both to the buffet for lunch in the lobby, Yelena's head still throbbing, not as much as earlier but enough for her to keep her shades on.

"Just the two of you and the fun you both hide" Kate replied cheekily.

"Fun?" Yelena questioned. Kate nodded, "you both have no idea what happened last night, do you?" She asked. You looked to Yelena who let out a sigh, "what do you know Kate Bishop?" The Russian asked. You looked back at Kate waiting for her to answer.

"Well, after the team and I got out target, mind you, neither of you were around so thanks so much for the help" Kate started in a sarcastic tone, "I found the two of you drunk as balls in the VIP bar. Y/n, you were dancing on the bar while Yelena threw money at you, from what I heard you both shouted every bodies drinks. So I thought I would leave you both to it, which I did" Kate went on, a cheeky smile on her lips told you she knew more than she was telling.

"Go on" you said.

"It was around 4am when you both came banging on my door, stumbling over each other's feet, not making any sense of words but Yelena confidently announced that you both had just got hitched"

"Oh god" Yelena mumbled under her breath.

"So, it's true, it really happened" you said, running your left hand through your hair in distress.

"I honestly couldn't be happier my two closet friends are married!" Kate replied happily causing both you and Yelena to give her an unimpressed look. "Wait, so when you came to my room early this morning, yo-"

"I just wanted to see how you pulled up" Kate interrupted, "and before you ask, no, you both didn't sleep together as far as I know anyway. I tried to get you both to go to bed in your own rooms but you insisted that we go to the rooftop hot tub where you both striped and I had to drag you both back to your room where Y/n passed out in the bed and it took you a another 20 minutes before you too were passed out" the brunette added, looking at Yelena.

A moment of silence was shared, you couldn't believe the information Kate just had just shared and you made a promise to yourself that you would never drink that much Asgardian Ale ever again. "So, lunch, anybody hungry?" Kate asked with yet another cheeky smile. Yelena turned to you, "divorce after lunch my sweetheart?" She asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Let's make it quick" you replied.

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#yelenasdiary asks #🐳 anon #fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #Yelena Belova x reader #Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader

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devilfic · 4 months

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Prob, wayyyy too damn specific but I saw posts of Matt and I just rewatched The Batman (2022) and like I had this prompt of:

Reader is pushed away by Matt and decides to not fall with more vigilantes but runs in with Bruce and marries him? Maybe and it becomes some love triangle plot or idk

Idk what you could do with this, pls feel free to ignore it or modify. It’s just a weird ass crossovers of my two husbands.

at first I meant to humor you a bit with my thoughts on bruce and matt as very similar lovers but then it just turned into a throuple. walk with me:

it’s funny because matt and bruce have very similar self-destructive behaviors when it comes to relationships, but I think bruce is a bit more indulgent (whether he’d admit to that or not is another story entirely).

where matt is clearly insecure about if he can protect you—certainly he will fight until his last dying breath to do so but would rather you never be in danger to begin with—bruce is (and I'm especially thinking of an older, more experienced bruce), I think, unwilling to let you know that he’s just as insecure. mainly because failure cannot be an option. bruce also has much more at his disposal to protect you (cough cough money cough) and has backup plans for days. at this point in time, bruce would be more willing to let others in and have a healthier (?) way of maintaining relationships.

matt is, to the best of his ability, an ordinary man who strikes suddenly, sometimes recklessly, and thinks better within the throes of action. matt strikes me as someone who carries too many burdens to ever think a relationship with a civillian would work. he is a martyr like bruce, but I think where matt is in daredevil and where bruce is in my mind (years later, a little less cynical) are different enough to make them stand out.

that being said, I think matt would be hella suspicious of bruce because let’s be honest…. everything about him is a red flag LMAO. I can imagine matt playing mind games with bruce if they ever met, perhaps matt is representing a client who is suing wayne enterprises and oh, look, there’s you and bruce all cuddled up in the courtroom. matt listens for bruce’s heartbeat whenever he asks a particularly pointed question about his life but bruce has trained his heartbeat to be steady, his reactions natural. he gets one past matt.

and you think this man has some NERVE interrogating your new boyfriend when he’s the one who put you out. you almost let him have a piece of your mind but think better of it.

matt wonders if you like being bruce wayne’s. are you even able to still be you? the you that he truly knows?

needless to say, if they cross each other in cowls, matt will know it’s him instantly. I think it would sting matt to know that not only had you moved on to a man of much higher class, you’d also moved onto another nocturnal vigilante. one who, apparently, had no hangups about having you.

bruce also isn’t stupid. he’d done his research into the masked vigilante running around the neighboring borough of hell’s kitchen. it wasn’t apparent to him when he’d first met matt, but a little stalking research down the line and he’d put it together. they don’t reveal this to each other at first.

but later that night, bruce is holding you and wondering… is that your type? if it was by the simple hilarity of the universe that you ended up falling for him, right after leaving a man not too different from himself.

anon, I have a feeling that when you said love triangle, you really meant a love v as in bruce likes reader, matt likes reader, and reader likes both. but if I may talk my shit, I think these two might have a lot to like about each other. two vigilantes who operate by night and shadow, who have similar dedications to justice (matt’s being the idea of righteous and fair law, bruce’s being protecting the weak and innocent and rehabilitating or stopping the corrupt), two men leading double lives, two men as equally charming, and two men in love with you. bruce and matt find it hard not to see what you like in the other.

bruce befriends him. it’s kind of an accident the way he finds a kindred spirit in him, and at first it’s purely to keep an eye on this guy, perhaps to put together a contingency plan just in case. he starts sending nelson, murdock, and page cases in gotham that could use their legal advice, sending business partners and citizens alike to their door for referrals. matt isn’t sure what to do when they start getting a wave of new clients, all suspiciously right up their alley, but foggy and karen don’t mind the extra cash flow and matt struggles to find a way to not be okay with helping those in need.

matt returns the favor and starts training bruce on how to hone his other senses in combat. the two of them will spar for hours, only stopping if alfred were to come yank them apart or, god forbid, you come home early to find your boyfriend pinning your ex to the mat.

and you’re both horrified and fascinated to find that they get along really well. but you can’t just let matt back into your life after he’d all but slammed the door in your face. he’d given up on you. now he was weaseling his way back into your life with bruce—a happy life, might I add, although no less stressful—hanging around you like a dark shadow.

bruce isn’t sure how to feel about it either. he knows how much you loved matt, how much you still love matt, and he can tell matt is not over you no matter how much he waxes poetic about the greater good and why you two couldn’t really work out. bruce gets it, worries that maybe he should get it more and cut you loose too before something happens to you. it had always been their worry: that while they were off protecting the city, there’d be no one there to watch over you. and there was no one there to watch over you. once upon a time.

there is no organized discussion about it. bruce is less hung up about it than matt. it does feel odd, imagining him around you and it being… normal. inviting matt over for dinner with your permission, and sharing wine and heavy goodbyes as bruce pays a taxi to see him home safe. he considers the way you squirm at the table, trying to keep it friendly between you and matt but there is that ache in your chest that remembers this man differently. it feels disrespectful and rude to be friends with him now, having him around gotham. eventually bruce asks you as you wind down for the night, his rings clattering onto the dresser tray as you pull back the sheets, “you love him still.” well, he doesn’t ask.

you freeze, halfway into the sheets, unsure if you’d even heard him right, “I’m sorry?”

“matthew,” he casts a glance over his shoulder, “it didn’t really end between you. not on your end.”

“if you’re trying to accuse me of something-“

“I’m not. I can see it on you.” but bruce’s voice isn’t angry or mocking or blaming. it’s… oddly resolute. thoughtful, even. “I like him.”

“I… what are you saying, bruce?”

he crawls under the sheets, nonchalant, but he finds himself just a little (just a little) unsure. “I’m saying that… maybe the reason why he pushed you away isn’t a problem anymore,” he stares ahead, focused on the fireplace that burns low, “if you wanted him still. I wouldn’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind him.”

you almost can’t believe your ears. “and you like him.”

bruce takes a minute to shrug, as if he needed to roll it around in his mind one more time.

“do you… want us to be together? all of us?” you watch the reflection of the fire in his eyes, waiting with bated breath.

he turns his head to you, “if we can get the usher boy to agree.”

you have to have a long, long talk with matt. there’s tears and a little anger and a whole lot of uncertainty as you talk out your tumultuous parting but then, as matt’s guilt starts slipping in and he says he’ll stay out of gotham so that he doesn’t cause you more pain, you blurt it out. matt isn’t sure he’s heard you right. you have to repeat yourself, a bit more eloquently, “I said… do you want to be with me and bruce?”

he doesn’t immediately say yes. in fact, he takes a day or two to himself to think about it. he’s staunchly sure in the beginning that he will turn you down but the words do not form, the hesitance keeps him from calling. when he gets advice from foggy (who is twice as bewildered but all too excited by the prospect) about how to say he’s not interested, he writes it down and it just. doesn’t feel right. he finds himself rearranging the words in his mind to be softer, more… flexible. less “hard and fast no” and more “I just don’t know”. the more he thinks about it the less inclined he is to even SAY the word no. is it because it’d really, finally cut you out of his life? would he only be saying yes to have you again?

bruce would be there too, that’s the key thing. maybe it could start out as just him being with you and bruce being with you at the same time, but maybe that was too weird for him to think about. sharing you with someone else. he wouldn’t want to. but what would the alternative be?

he calls bruce to meet in hell’s kitchen where he feels safer. bruce is calm, not imposing in the least. he lets matt rant it all out and get his feelings in check. when he’s blown off all the steam, bruce just says, “if it comes down to it, there’ll be no hard feelings if it ends.”

“this is crazy.”

“you can say no.”

“yeah. I know.”

some time passes. bruce comes to stand beside matt sitting on the ledge of the rooftop, keeping his heavy gaze fixed on him. “they still love you.”

“I know.”

the two of them say nothing for a while. matt tries to focus on the city, as loud as it always is, but keeps zeroing in on the steady earnest thumping of the man’s heart right next to him. he is being honest with what remains unsaid, what you’d told matt days ago that he still struggled to believe. he tilts his head so, and bruce has known him long enough now to know that he’s thinking hard about what to say next, “I suppose you’ll have to take me on a date first. just so we’re all even.”

“is pinning you to the mat not courting enough for you?”

#usually in the dc trinity headcanons bruce is like the last one to agree to the throuple so him bringing up the throuple first tickles me #bruce wayne x reader #matt murdock x reader #bruce wayne x matt murdock #??? I guess???#dc #marvel #mjwrites #mjanswers

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virginburial · 1 year

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hi! could i request something with ethan x fem!reader (or gn, whichever makes you the most comfortable :)) where reader is this really like, wealthy kid at blackmore who’s part of the core four (but since she’s in it… maybe fab five? idk 😭 i suck at this) and she’s dating ethan and just loves to spoil him? i’m assuming he’s like a broke college student, and the whole group kinda jokes that’s she’s his sugar mommy lmao. if you’re not up for it, feel free to ignore this request! i love your work <3 can’t wait to read more of your writing, thank you so so much for sharing it with us!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I so clearly saw Gossip Girl in my head I'm dead x-x but let me break down why this would absolutely work on Ethan

Ethan Landry CD mix! .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

especially since I'm getting an old money-great Gatsby feel out of it, your family probably owns a company that's been around for generations, one of those Rockefeller/Vanderbilt types. the kind of family HBO writes hit dramas about. You weren't snobby about it but still carried yourself differently than all your peers (you knew you were hot shit). So when regular-schmegular middle-class suburban boy next door Ethan catches your eye, it is a shock to everyone, especially him.

Ethan barely had a job and was living off of loans, like everyone else. you noticed this when he nervously asked you out to Olive Garden and ate nothing but the free breadsticks and some soda. you felt bad; you could tell he wanted to impress you.

so you started bringing him coffee every time you walk to class together; "I can't hold your books and the coffee y/n-" "-just take the fucking latte, Ethan!" he was too humble to take your offerings, but soon, as your romantic relationship with him evolved, so did his acceptingness and gratitude. You two would go to the mall and whatever Ethan stared at for more than five seconds would be coming home with you. other times, you'd door-dash him food whenever he studied for hours on end, because you knew Ethan had the habit of focusing too much on his studies and forgetting to eat.

"dude! she's totally your sugar mommy." Chad would tease, or Mindy and Anika would comment about asking you for permission before he does anything; "Don't you need your momma's blessing before you do that?" It's a little annoying, but Ethan knows the truth; you loved to spoil him, and he loved being spoiled by you. you loved seeing how excited he gets over a pair of sneakers or some dinner, and he loved knowing that the person he loves thinks about him and what he liked. you're abundant, and you felt it was important to share that abundance with the ones you loved. speaking of, your relationship with Ethan reached a point where he was offered an internship within your family's business; which lead to the both of you heading back to the mall, helping Ethan pick which suit he should wear to the interview.

and, of course, Ethan is on his knees, eating you out in the dressing room because he is just so grateful. getting stains all over his button-up as your juices drip down his chin and run down his neck. whatever, you were going to buy it for him anyways.

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

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amadeoapologist · 3 months

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i also think armand fundamentally does not know how to make people happy because he himself is unhappy. i was talking with my friend about louis and how louis still uses human markers of wealth and success that lestat and claudia and armand don't understand. louis wants to own things, he wants to invest in profitable endeavors. i don't think he wants to laze about in his wealth, but he wants to work hard and have it pay off and he wants to see the tangible products of his efforts.

and i'm bringing this up in relation to armand because i think this mindset explains some of the disconnect in dubai, beyond just the circumstances with lestat that got them there. because louis feels lobotomized to me in his cold modern penthouse where he's disconnected from his food, he's disconnected from other vampires, he doesn't work. he buys and sells artwork he appears to have only a passing interest in, he's tempered his accent. he sleeps in a bed and not a coffin, he eats at the table.

and i've been trying to wrap my head around that and how he ended up there, but i'm starting to think a lot of that is armand trying to give louis what he thinks louis wants to feel satiated. louis wants independence and nice things and obvious markers of wealth. so. have this penthouse with the most coldly, impersonally stylish decor. acquire this expensive artwork and then sell it so you can buy something more expensive. if you won't hunt, then here--dine on fine china.

i'm not saying armand holds all the money or anything, we don't know their finances. but i could see him continuously providing louis with expensive things in the hopes that will satisfy louis' desire to feel successful (and also because he has a metric fuckton to make up for and this is one way he tries), but it doesn't because what is louis doing to earn it? money makes money and it seems like louis doesn't have to do anything any more but coast, which is, as armand fears, boring. but idk if he knows how to address that because armand doesn't understand louis' perspective in the first place.

i think i love and empathize with armand so much because he's the one character on the show who feels, at his core, like he isn't good enough. i don't think this is as much a struggle for louis or lestat or claudia, but i think it is for armand. armand is pathetic. he's morally void, and he's too damn weak to grow a fucking backbone and stand by his choices without couching them in lies, because he can't accept being perceived as someone who would make those decisions. he wants affection. he craves approval.

(lmao old school a/n here--i wrote most of this before the finale and damn......i was spot on re: armand couching choices in lies lolololol)

people keep making posts about how armand seems a bit too invested in daniel's opinion of him. and obviously there's an armandiel bent to those, but i also think it's because daniel is the most objective person in the room. he isn't objective because he's tangled up in their story, too, but he's outside of the partnership. he's a journalist. he's an archivist of some version of the truth. and i think he wants daniel to see him how he wants to be seen. he didn't want daniel to think he was boring in san francisco, and he doesn't want daniel to think he's boring now decades later. he wants the external validation from someone outside of his unit to tell him he did the best he could. which obviously daniel won't do, which makes armand want it more.

there's a very good chance i'm completely wrong and talking out my ass and just a pathetic armand apologist myself, but idk. every episode makes me more curious about him. i started season 2 really disinterested in armand and lowkey put off by his presence. but the season has shifted things for me slowly but surely, and now i think armand is one of the most interesting characters on the show. and that makes me love him even more.

#amc iwtv #the vampire armand #armandiel #interview with the vampire amc #daniel molloy #mine

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i-like-anything-water · 1 year

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Chlonette Angkas AU:

Chloe is still attention deprived from her parents despite doing everything she can think of to gain their approval (especially her mother's). One day Adrien takes her to a motorcycle road racing event and she fell in love.

Her parents didn't notice the sudden purchase since they were used to their daughters sudden shopping sprees.

She becomes a pro at age 20 and has been competing since she was 18 (idk shit about motorcycle racing lmao) with Adrien and Kagami accompanying her.

She almost gets into an accident, a month before her 21st birthday. Her parents finally notice.

She's scolded and grounded.

She tries to get her way, explaining how it was her passion and she hasn't felt alive in such a long time. She's even threatened to leave and disown herself (can she do that though??? Lol xD)

Her father hesitates. He loves her daughter and he feels guilty that he's taken up too much time with their business and upcoming campaign to spend time with her. Her mother still hasn't budged.

It was when Andre realized he was losing to the public's votes did he realize that he and Chloe could strike a...deal.

"Honey, I agree on you going back to your...erm, game. But you must accomplish an errand first." "Oh, yes! Anything, Daddy. I am your daughter after all. What errand is it?"

Chloe is grumbling and complaining on the first day of being an Angkas driver. As per her father's request, it would look good for him and their family if they helped out in the community especially the laborers.

"I don't wanna get near those commoners! What if they attack me?!" "Darling, they're nice people. Er, I didn't think you would have opted to be in the cleaning department...and you do love racing..." A sigh.

She's not accustomed to driving for other people so she gets complaints on her first day. "Are you crazy?! I almost died!" "God I thought I saw you for a second." "I'm gonna tell my family I love them every day if you're my driver." "Your hair looks ugly in that helmet." The last one she may have purposely suddenly stopped the bike and well...

It was on her second week did she get a customer that was her age, maybe younger. She didn't say anything. Chloe wasn't surprised, she looked like shit. Ew, seriously were all people not taking an effort in their looks?

"How fast do you want me to be?" If there was sarcasm, the customer didn't notice. She merely shrugged and said, "Depends on you."

Well, okay then.

It's only when they got to their destination did her customer looked both shocked, thrilled, and fear.

"holy shit I'm not late! Holy shit, I'm not late! How fast did you go?"

Chloe shrugs, "Not fast enough to break the law."

She learns her customer's name is Marinette. How? Because she was a customer and they used an app, obviously.

She was actually...happy. it's been a long time (it's been a week) since she ran that fast (there was numerous tickets already) and she kinda wished she'd book her again (Marinette doesn't look too concerned for herself which was both worrying and 'it's not my business but still').

She gets Chloe again and this time she recognizes the familiar helmet and jacket. Marinette offers her a smile to which Chloe rolled her eyes at. Affectionately. Not! God damn it she was not that gay.

It's only when she wasn't cursing at the world or busy thinking how ugly her customers are did she notice Marinette's arms around her and oh.

Oh they almost ran a red light. Oops.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this?" "Good at what?! Driving?!" "Making sure your customers don't die or end up in jail!"

They bicker along the way which earns them curious looks.

It becomes a routine and Chloe definitely did not harass inform the other drivers that Marinette was hers. To drive!

They once stopped at McDonald's because Marinette forgot to eat. "Don't you have your maid to prepare your meals?" The drive thru cashier and Marinette could only stare at each other, silently exchanging the money and food.

During their journey to Marinette's apartment (she mentioned it during the third ride) to her school, they talked. Well, screamed because traffic is shitty. But it's fine, it keeps Chloe entertained for the time being. Only one more month and Daddy's campaign is over.

Marinette's is...okay. Fine, maybe she was fun to talk to. And maybe she did give Chloe a cupcake or whatever new recipe she had on before they went to school. And maybe she was sometimes, on the rarity, like very rare times! She looked...nice.

She thinks the pollution has finally gotten to her. Being exposed to this much pollution and people is making her sick because.... because Marinette keeps getting prettier everytime she picks her up and this is not fucking fair.

"I think I like her." Her coworker, a father of two kids only looked at her, mid chew on his bread. Chloe realized what she said and panicked, but before she could scream and curse, he smiled and swallowed. "I think you do, Miss."

It was during the first week of the next month did Adrien visit her. He was also busy with class and modeling. Once the day of them hanging out was over, he gave her a hug and said, "It's okay. She seems like a nice girl. Try to ask her out, yeah?"

Asking out girls without your fancy pictures or perfectly (elaborate) planned speech was harder. Marinette walked out the door with her hair in a bun, some strays of hair making it look like bean sprouts and she looked halfway to passing out. Chloe thought she looked beautiful.

"Shit."

It ends with them pinning for almost two months and then the confession and their cute dates. If I have time I'll continue this but viola, them...just, them.

#chloenette #chlonette #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupen chang #angkas au #chlonette fic idea #i wanna flesh this out some more but idk anything about motorcycles or angkas except for the basics #i walk to my destinations so...#anyways them #more characters should be appearing

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candyunicornsateme · 1 year

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(for that tweet) I think it would be cool to see your interpretation of them when they're older (like 20s to 30s)

Admittedly they are generally young adult/early 20's in a majority of my work of them, but I know it's something to work on a bit, and along with my own soft inclination, I'm sure they look a bit more youthful than I intend sometimes hahaha.

BUT. I do definitely have some late 20's into 30's ideas:

In particular for Kenny I always imagine his hair is a bit longer and he lets himself get really scruffy on the chin, layers hoodies with one those collared brown jackets because idk it just screams the right vibes for him: more mature but still just that grungy guy from a trashy, fucked up home.

For Kyle, he starts wearing glasses, or needing to wear them more, and I like to think he puts on a little weight through college. Stuff like that.

Now if you're really talking older shit, I tend to think now that Kenny would have some particular strong feelings when they're considering buying a house or something like that... because like... he probably never really imagined that happening for himself. Any major milestones or things like that would be a lot on him.

Also I almost always imagine that Kenny would work too much or overwork himself. Like he'll come home, or come hang out with the guys, and just crashes after sitting down for 10 minutes. Especially because I've always loved the idea of him doing jobs with physical labor. Sometimes imagine it as a pretty serious issue or hurtle for him because it's tied to money. (This is a whole other ramble honestly lmao...)

I usually think Kyle has a million existential crises trying to figure himself out and what he wants to pursue career wise and with life in general. Maybe he's a bit rigid and anxious during that transitioning period.

For some reason I sorta picture Stan mellowing out and not caring so much, but still kinda struggles with being torn between his mind and his heart.

Sometimes I've imagined Stan and Kenny would be casual drinking buddies. Like yeah they'd have some complex feelings about drinking for obvious reasons and that does generally overrule this thought, but I can definitely picture it for them, in a lighthearted way especially!!

I'm not sure how many characters to include here or if you meant more visually or character and personality wise, but those are the first ideas that come to mind. But of course these are things I always play around with for different ideas, or just for different vibes, so most of this isn't like set in stone for me lol.

Anyways I gave drawing it my best shot lmao

#south park #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #stenny #sp stenny #my art #my headcanons #sorry for the delay. it took some time to get a drawing going #I drafted half my thoughts immediately tho lol #been in a talking mood #I rambled a lot but like i love kenny being like a car mechanic n shit <3 #I need to try this more but I just forget about beards lol...

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strawhatsoraya · 1 year

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hi sunshine! how are you? hope everything’s good and you’re doing fine! sorry if I might sound too cheesy but I absolutely adore the way you write, everything you post I eat it up immediately and the fact that you do this for free? you’re a gift, so I was wondering if you’d like to write this scenario (exclusively if you’re comfortable and interested in doing so) it’s NSFW for shanks with a F!reader (there is just something about him that is so damn attractive) and it’s about her being maybe part of the crew or another pirate (your choice), we know his crew and him are not particularly interested in treasures and money, and I would think the one they have are obtained similarly to what the strawhats do and not by raiding cities, and I would imagine shanks to not be interested in jewelry so he lets his crew take what they want for themselves with the only exception that he always calls dibs on the most gorgeous necklace he can find, the crew knows this and it’s cause he absolutely LOVES to adorn her simply cause he adores her and gift giving is one of his love languages, what they don’t know it’s that what he loves even more is fucking her while she’s wearing nothing but that necklace. that’s it, oh bonus point if you make him like madly, deeply viscerally in love cause I think that man would be the kindest of partners.

Have a wonderful day and do not feel pressured to write this if you simply don’t enjoy it <3

I'm not even going to attempt an apology because there is no apology that could justify me letting this be in my inbox for 7 months. LMAO. I simply just have not been writing as much as I was. I'm hoping to correct that. Please know that it wasn't that I didn't like this idea. I was and am obsessed with it. I'm just mentally unwell~~ lmao.

ANYWAY. HERE IT IS. idk if you're still on tumblr, or long gone, but either way I had fun writing this. Thank you for sending this great idea months and months ago.

SHANKS X FEM READER / NSFW word count: 6.5k (i know i know, but what can I say, it's shanks) content warnings: nudity (duh lol), vaginal penetration, biting, scratching, there's some shower shenanigans, unprotected sex (they are pirates and live dangerously), pretty straightforward, have at it. A SUMMARY: nope.

The truth was, he should have let you go a long time ago. Let you fall to the bottom of the ocean along with all the ships he had sunk, with all the drowned men he had no sympathy for. He should let you go, but you are like the ghost of his arm. On hot humid nights, he wakes up with an itch on a forearm he can’t scratch so he tosses in bed, dreams of you–of the hand he can’t touch you with.

Shanks never cared about treasure, not even in his early youth. He was happier watching his men divvy the spoils among themselves. He’d take their laughter as reward, watch the joy in their faces and know that he had conquered more than just another pirate, more than just another adventure. He had conquered life itself.

Yet, he thought derisively, he could not conquer you.

But he knew what swayed you. He knew the light in your eyes that’d shine like beacons at the sight of jewels. How broadly you smiled while counting gold coins. He adored that undeniable air of superiority that’d keep your shoulders high when he’d slip ornate gaudy rings over each of your long tapered fingers. Shanks loved the sight of your delicate neck draped in gold chains, although he thought nothing beat the sight of his own fingers wrapped around it.

He hid his obsessions behind his smile. Some that he wasn’t proud of, but then, there was you, sitting on the edge of your bed, smooth legs crossed neatly over each other; his pride hanging by a thread on the curve of your cheek.

Not that he’d ever tell you.

The din outside the bedroom is loud, as it’s bound to be. Two pirate crews getting together, one being mostly composed of men while the other women, was surely to have interesting results. You ignore the shouting, and the cussing, the laughter and the start of badly played music accompanied by badly sung party songs. After all, it wasn’t often you were honored by Shank’s presence. You needed to make sure to take it all in.

Your dark eyes size him up, from the top of his flaming red hair, to the bottom of his feet–sandal clad and characteristic of his blase persona. His size alone was enough to intimidate most but you had him moaning in your ear too many times to count to let the broadness of his shoulders deter you.

“Fancy seeing you in these waters,” you find the words to speak. They are heavy on your tongue, and sound annoyingly childish to your ears. You hide the urge to grimace by widening your smile. Shanks had the power to make you feel like a schoolgirl; unsure, and giggly and absolutely stir crazy about him. You shake your leg repeatedly, as you toss your hair over your shoulder, your curls suddenly feel suffocating around your heated neck.

“Did you miss me so much you had to go out of your way?” Your voice is strained and high pitched. You hate it. You want to claw your throat out, but he smiles at you knowingly–as if he could read every stupid thought in your head and suddenly, you want to claw his face out instead. “You shouldn’t have.”

You try to sound light and airy, teasing–maybe even condescending, but your voice is still off. It brings heat to your face. You try to hide your embarrassment by laughing, and turning your head. You cover the lower half of your mouth, and glare at the nearest clothing rack. On it are the latest additions to your wardrobe, expensive silks and slinky low cut attire; everything you could think of that he’d like and never seen on you.

“Is it so hard to believe?” he asks you, his tone friendly and warm. You swallow thickly, unspoken confessions sticking dangerously to the walls of your throat. You think you’re choking. You think you’ll die then, and he stabs the wooden stake right through your heart when he speaks next: “We’re friends after all. Of course I’d miss you.”

That word bleeds into you. It spreads like ice, like venom throughout your being. Friends, because that was the only option among pirates. Friends, because the other choice was enemies–and could two enemies ever fuck like you and him? You suck your teeth and cross and uncross your legs. You adjust your seated position on the bed, while the crowd outside your bedroom continues to get louder. Although you’re avoiding his gaze, you feel it skim over your skin. You feel fire over the slope of your exposed shoulders, feel it over the swell of your breasts.

Friends did not look at each other the way he did.

“Well,” you interrupt his thoughts. Shanks blinks as he watches you uncross your legs again. He is mesmerized by the size of your plush thighs. His fingers twitch as he reigns in the impulse to reach out, to grasp one of them tightly. You stand up abruptly. “You have shitty timing, as usual.”

Shanks blinks, before he laughs with a soft shake of his head. “Really?” he asks and points his thumb behind him at the door. “With the party going outside I thought this was as good a time as ever.”

He approaches you, and you immediately stiffen. Shanks tries not to laugh. In place, he snorts quietly through his nose. His hand reaches for one of your hips. His strong fingers dig into flesh as he brings you flush against him.

“Come on, Doll,” he murmurs against your cheek. His breath is scalding against your brown skin. It’s like being kissed by the sun. You smell sake in his breath, almost taste the sweetness of it. “I sailed a long way to see you. Don’t you think our reunion should be a little sweeter?”

The slap against his chest is enough to stagger him backwards. You slip out of his space, trying to find your dignity along with your breath. Inside your chest, your heart runs at a neck-breaking pace.

“Estúpido,” you hiss at him, hands immediately going to your heated cheeks. “I’m not candy. You expect too much,” you tell him, turning your face to raise a brow. You try to read his expression over your shoulder. His hand slips into the pocket of his trousers. “Especially when you come back empty handed.”

“You think so lowly of me,” he complains although he smiles. His hand rummages in his pockets. You hear the clinking of a metal, and your body turns around completely before you can help it. “When have I ever come back empty handed?” As his last words reach you, he pulls out a gold necklace from his pocket. You immediately count eight amethysts beads in various sizes. Wrapped around the necklace is a fine woven chain with gold spears that dangle from the base.

You approach him, and reach gently with one hand. As you hold a golden spear on your fingers you see the sconce light of your bedroom catch on the tiny little diamonds embedded within. Shanks grins down at you. He sees that light in your eyes and feels a fire in his belly. It breathes life into him.

“You should have started with that,” you quip, your plush lips pursed together. He is sorely tempted to grab your face and kiss you. He almost puts up a fight. His hand grips your cheeks together, and he lands a noisy peck on your mouth. You resist, so he comes back for seconds and thirds.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughs as you slip away from his grasp, taking the necklace with you. You make a big show of wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Oh, see?” he gestures at you, with his brows scrunched up together. “Now you’re just trying to hurt me.”

“You’re a brute,” you snap, tossing your head again, finding your frizzed out curls currently insufferable. It was hair wash day, and Shanks was getting in the way. “Have you even showered?”

At the interrogation, Shank’s gaze shifts from your face to your body. It lingers momentarily on your breasts, before he drags them slowly back up, leaving you breathless. You hiccup.

“I–” you start, and your bottom lip quivers. Heat pushes you down to the ground, tethering you to the fire in Shanks’ eyes–one that is threatening to quickly consume you. “I was going to shower when you got here. That’s what I meant–”

Shanks steals your thoughts, and your common sense. He invades your space, his hand easily finding the comfort of the small of your back. He rests it there on the top of your ample backside. Sneakily, or at least he thinks so, he squeezes the top of one ass cheek.

“Is this your way of asking me for help?” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours. “Let me help you. I’m very good at it.” You think, it should humble you, the way he’s lowered himself enough to reach your height. You think, surely, this should be enough, mean enough. That you should not crave what he cannot give; false forevers and promises written in fool’s gold.

But you’d be a shit pirate if you didn’t dream at least every now and then.

You turn away wordlessly, and he follows quietly behind you. Inside the bathroom, he shadows your movements, his hand placed lightly over yours as you remove your clothing, and you drop the necklace over the pile of clothes. There’s a feral hunger lurking inside you, wanting you to tear his clothes off but you push past it and into the shower. You can’t see him, but you feel him grinning behind you, feel his predatory gaze sizing up your naked body. You close your eyes under the warm water coming out of the shower head, letting it soak your hair and body while you hear Shank’s clothing drop to the floor behind you.

Cleansing your body becomes a complicated task when Shanks is involved. He swears he’s helping as he slips a soapy hand between your legs. You bite your lip as his callouses brush against the sensitive skin of one inner thigh.

“I have two hands,” you hiss as you swat his hand away. You hear a sharp inhale behind you, and his breathy laughter hot against the back of your neck.

“All you do is try to hurt me,” he murmurs dramatically. His mouth grazes against your skin, the prickle of his facial hair against the sensitive spot behind one ear is enough to elicit goosebumps all over your body. “Are you showing off that you have two and I only have one?”

You stammer despite yourself. If you could take it all back you could. You hope the steam rising in the shower is enough to hide the color blooming on your cheeks. You turn around and fall into his embrace. Water ripples down the grooves of his chest muscles. They skimper along every ridge of his abdomen. Your hands slither smoothly over them, taking in every inch, and memorizing them until you could see it clearly behind your eyelids.

“No,” you admit at last. Your hands are on his neck, as you pull him down gently towards your face. “I know you do enough damage with one hand as it is.”

You press your lips against his hoping this would be enough to shut him up. His hand feels like fire on your lower back. He brings you closer to him, pressing you against his pelvis. You feel his cock stir and grow harder against the softness of your lower belly. If there is any doubt left in you, Shanks takes care of it by slipping his tongue inside your mouth. The kiss is feverish, and messy. A slippery sense that is only heightened by the hot water sliding down your face and his. You bury your fingers in his flame colored hair, pulling him even closer against you.

Kissing you like this was clouding his senses. Being a captain of his own crew, placed him in the position of making most of the decisions. Something about the way you touched him, kissed him, looked at him–always made him want to relinquish control. Still, he preferred to have you in bed, where he could have you at his mercy. Your mouth was hot against his neck, as you lowered your hands over his body. Shanks bites down on his lower lip, as your fingers wrap themselves around the girth of his cock.

His hand shoots out to grab a handful of your wet curls.

“Now who’s the one doing damage?” he asks in a whispered growl.

You look up as he tugs on your hair, and almost wish you hadn't. His swollen lips, the ones you had passionately kissed as if you’d never get to taste him again, made him look disheveled and broken. That paired with the clouded look in his eyes, the heaviness on his eyelids, the slight flush on his cheeks was making your heart ache.

You press your lips together tightly, seeking control.

Your stroke is treacherously slow. You squeeze tightly, enjoying the feel of his thickness inside your hands. His lashes flutter close, and you watch him tilt his face up, watch the water drops slide down the expanse of his thick neck. You continue to stroke the thickness of his shaft, every now and then twisting your hand around the tip of his flushed cock just to hear his breathing hitch–to pretend you have some semblance of control.

“Feels so good,” a mumbled confession tumbles off his lips. You feel it swim around your head, blurring your vision. It slithers around you, touches you where no man has touched you before. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

The heat between your legs becomes increasingly hard to ignore. You feel your heart pulsing at the center of you, as an undeniable wetness covers your folds. You reach out with one hand to cup his balls gently. When he murmurs your name, lips parted in silent ecstasy, you know you have to walk away first.

You remove your hands, but not before dropping a kiss on the middle of his hard and muscular chest.

“Wait–” he protests, trying to catch you. His large hand touches your cheek but you still turn away.

Water drips to the floor as you leave the shower. You ignore the towels nearby. Instead, you bend over well aware that Shanks was watching your every move. He watches the roundness of your ass intently as you bend over, and he gets a peek of that luscious center of you–that pussy he just can’t get enough of. When you stand up, the necklace is dangling from your slender fingers. He moves towards you, water dripping from his hair and his body to the floor. He reaches out for the necklace but you move quickly away from him.

“You’re being so difficult today,” he observes with amusement. “Not that you’ve ever been easy.”

He has to admit, you were very skilled at putting on jewelry all on your own. Still, he wished he had the privilege this time. Shanks would just have to get his reward in another form. Your naked silhouette walking away from him was surely close to divinity, in his opinion. The way your hips swayed with each step towards the bed was making him dizzy. He watches you even as you climb on the bed, slowly, naked ass in the air drawing him closer.

He gives in to temptation. As he is prone to do with your companionship. When you turn around, dropping on the bed on your back, you inhale sharply at the look in his eyes; two burning fires determined to consume you.

Shanks moves with purpose. You had always admired the way he’d move so quickly in such a large body, barely making a sound before he would strike. There’s a sense of urgency that touches you gingerly at the base of your neck. Once again, you feel goosebumps scatter across your body.

“I think I’m very easy to deal with, actually,” you counter belatedly. “The picture of angelic behavior. How dare you.” He was making you nervous as he just waited there–kneeling at the edge of the bed. You tried to regulate your breathing as you laid your head on the ample amount of pillows you insisted on having on your bed. Shanks taught it a nuisance so you continued. You’d do anything to get under his skin–and stay there.

Shanks laughs at you as he starts to move. He slithers towards you like a large predatory feline, dark eyes and flaming mane of hair. The muscles of his shoulders ripple with his movements, and you feel your mouth water at the sight. You lick your lips, and swallow loudly. He must have heard you, you think with embarrassment, as a smirk stretches his lips.

“I dare,” he drawls, dragging out his syllables. He slides next to you, sliding his hand over the softness of your belly. “Because I’m the only one who would. You should be grateful,” he continues. You bite down on your lip, careful not to make a sound but your body is a traitor and shivers under the roughness of his hand. “That I’m such a devoted friend.”

There was that damn word again. There is a lump in your throat, bitter, and difficult to swallow. It almost chokes you to death as you push it down.

“Go to hell, Shanks. I don’t need friends like you.”

His laughter wounds you more than it should. You should expect this behavior from him. It was always the same. You parried his honeyed words with sharp remarks. A frail attempt at defending yourself and pretending you had no feelings for this Emperor of the Sea. He acted as if nothing you could say could hurt him, stop him, change his mind.

“Is that right?” he murmurs, his hand drawing slow large circles over your belly. Your legs move on their own. Your brows draw together as they slide apart, knees bending as you wiggle on the silk of your bedsheets.

“Mmhmm,” you reply. Your response is weak, you know, but your breathing was becoming more ragged the more he touched you. Your heart speeds up when he leans over to drag his mouth against the skin under your belly. You grit your teeth when he bites that same space of flesh gently. “That’s right. I don’t need you, Red-Haired Shanks,” you hiss through clenched teeth. Your hand is in his hair, fingers tangling in crimson locks. “I don’t–” You gasp, thoughts interrupted as Shanks journey moves lower to your pelvis. He kisses one hip, and then the other.

“You were saying?” he asks, a low chuckle dying on the crook of your inner thigh. You close your eyes tightly as the feeling of his hot tongue dips closer towards the center of you.

He pulls away, grabbing your wrist to untangle your fingers from his hair, as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed. This position makes you feel vulnerable–naked and laying on your back, as he sits up, looking down on you with your wrist still in his hand, both his feet on the floor; grounded.

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop floating up in the sky. The sight of him above you, smirking down at you victorious made you crave him all the more.

“I don’t need you to need me either,” Shanks says as he brings your wrist to his lips. He kisses the inside of your wrist gently; once, twice. “As long as you want me. That’s good enough for me.” He pauses to drag his tongue over the inside of your palm. Shanks eyes look down at you, away from where he is pressing your fingers against his mouth. They linger momentarily on your neck, and on the necklace, on your exposed breasts. “The way I want you,” he confesses in a low voice, before dragging his wide tongue up your index finger and plopping it into his mouth.

He sucks on it noisily, and slowly, holding eye contact. You feel close to combusting. Fury, or lust, you’re not sure. All you know is heat, all consuming, scorching, blinding heat. You force your hand out of his grasp, and use it to squeeze his face between your fingers.

“Shanks!” you hiss, breathing barely regulated. He watches you quietly, eyes dipping occasionally to your heaving chest. He loved the way the necklace looked over your breasts, the way the gold caught the light; how beautiful your skin shone underneath. A smirk begins to form, so you tighten your grip. “How much longer are you going to drag this out?”

There’s a touch of remorse in the back of his mouth; barely sour enough to make him grimace. He looks away from your pleading eyes to your neck, adorned lavishly in the necklace he had brought you. You looked so beautiful and vulnerable. He supposed it was time he did something about that.

“I thought you liked this game,” he mumbles with squished cheeks. Shanks holds your wrist again and pulls until you let him go. His fingers tangle with yours, and he lowers it against the bed by your head. Your fingers twitch, unfamiliar with this form of intimacy from him. Shanks' face draws closer to yours. You smell his sweet breath, and try not to count every freckle and sun spot on his cheeks like some kind of sentimental idiot.

“Enough,” you say. Your voice is whiny. You loathe it. “I’ve had enough. You brute. You insensitive–” Shanks cuts you off with a searing kiss. His mouth is forceful against yours. You mumble protests, unwilling to give up control entirely. His hand squeezes yours tighter as he pushes back, nipping at your bottom lip.

His tongue runs along your bottom lip, your back arches and you finally give in. You wrap your free arm around his shoulders to hold him close to you, savoring in the feel of his tongue inside your mouth. He brushes his tongue against yours, saliva coating both your lips until shiny. He moves to drop light kisses along the shape of your jaw. His next route of conquest is your neck, and you wince at his greediness–the way he’s sucking without a care in the world, as if he wants nothing more than to mar your skin for everyone to see what he has done.

He moves quickly, releasing your hand. You gasp when Shanks adjusts himself behind you in bed, face immediately burying itself on the side of your neck.

“Stay still, Doll,” he mumbles against your ear. Another shiver takes over your body when he takes your earlobe in his mouth. “I’m just trying to get a good feel for you. It’s been so long, after all.” He murmurs all of this against your ear, his breath hot and moist making you hyper aware of all his movements; the way his chest pushes against your back, how he lets go of the breast he was kneading to allow his thick fingers to traverse lightly over the side of your torso.

He continues until he is over your hip. He moves against your ass, pressing his erection against you. You hum lightly, enjoying the feeling of him–how thick and large he seems. There’s a ridiculous sense of pride swelling inside you for being the reason for his arousal; you, of all the seas he has traveled and conquered, it is you at this moment and no one else. His hand hovers over one ass cheek before he’s gripping it, gently massaging and spreading you open.

A brow rises high on your forehead. Before you can question him, Shanks makes a decisive move. He slides his cock between your ass cheeks, thrusting his hips gently to stroke himself between them. His breath comes out in puffs against the back of your neck with every slow thrust. You feel his precum smearing itself on your crack. It is a strange sensation, and you are ashamed to acknowledge how aroused you are at feeling him in a place he’s never explored before.

“Shanks,” you breathe out shakily. “Is this enough for you?”

He doesn’t answer you immediately, caught up in the lewd sight of his cock sandwiched in your voluminous and juicy ass. His breathing is ragged, chest burning from repressed lust. Seeing you–being with you–was not a common occurrence. The last thing he wanted to do was rush through this and forget to touch you, kiss you, in a spot he had planned–in a way he had fantasized about over and over.

“For now,” he grunts against your shoulder, biting and licking soon after. “Just give me a moment. I’ll take care of you too.”

You press your head back against him, exposing your neck to him. Shanks takes the invitation wordlessly, kissing and biting up your neck as he continues to slide his cock between your cheeks. His moans are soft, barely audible, but you feel the rumbling in his chest against your back every time he does. It makes you hotter, wetter. You sigh, desperate to feel him towards the center of you. You bring his hand around to your waist, slowly sliding his hand up your belly until it reaches the bottom of one breast.

Shanks smiles against your shoulder, where he bites down once more, eliciting a moan from you. “I know, Doll,” he mumbles, reaching for your breast as you had wordlessly requested. “You need more, don’t you? Always so needy. Always needing more,” his breath is hotter than your skin at the moment. It bounces off of it, as he twists your nipple between calloused fingers. You bite back another moan. “You’re never satisfied, but what can I say?” He pulls at your nipple harshly, making you cry out. “That’s what I like about you.”

He slips out from between your cheeks. You start to protest when he releases your breast. Shanks sucks his teeth, trying to silence you.

“I said I’d take care of you, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your ear, using his hand to lift one of your thick thighs. “You need to trust me more.” You help him without thinking, keeping your legs open while he slips his cock between them. His hardness is pressed against your soaking pussy. Your folds are slippery against his length. You hear him grunt softly against your ear, his breathing irregular as he stays very still. You chuckle, aware that he’s stalling–buying himself time.

Shanks loved a long game. He hated to cut things short.

Yet, like you, sometimes he was impatient. He moves shortly after, thrusting between your legs. It starts slow enough, his breath coming in short puffs hot against your ear. You reach behind you to grasp his hip. He rocks into you as you gasp, enjoying how thick he felt against your pussy, how the tip of his cock–mushroom tipped and meaty–would rub against your clit just right at certain angles. You reach further back, twisting your body, to grab a handful of his hard ass.

“Come on,” you goad him, finding it hard to think much less speak. “Touch me where it feels good.” Shanks laughs against your shoulder, and bites down over a blooming bruise. Your moan is high pitched as you try to reign it back. Although the party seems to continue outside the room, you don’t want to run the risk of your own crew hearing you moan.

“Don’t hold back,” he tells you, licking the teeth marks he left behind on your brown skin. “I’ve come a long way, you know. The least you can do is let me hear you fall apart.”

You grit your teeth, as heat wraps itself around your head. Your eyes sting from embarrassment, and what’s worse, is that you feel yourself dripping all over his cock, coating it in your arousal. You’re well aware he feels it too. It can be the only reason he picks up the speed, a throaty laugh echoing in the room.

In an effort to even out the playing field, you reach between your legs and grab the tip of his cock. You hear him gasp next to your ear as you guide his tip to your clit.

“I said here,” you repeat, rocking your hips so you can rub your clit against the tip of his cock. “This is where I want to feel you.” Your toes curl at the sensation, at how pleasure seeps deep into you, tightening with intensity at every rock of your hips. Shanks stills his movements, and presses his pelvis tightly against your ass. Your whines drive him to the brink of madness. He feels them inside him, tightening around him, pulling at his navel filling him with pleasure. His eyes shut close as he lets you take control–or lose it, he’s not sure. You seem delirious as you chase your orgasm, rocking on his cock as if your life depended on it.

Your juices coat his shaft, and he feels them slip lower, trickling down his balls. He pulls you even closer with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Go on, Doll,” he encourages you, his voice low and seductive as it breaks through your higher pitched moans. “Take it if you think it belongs to you. Take what you think is yours.”

You gasp as your ecstasy builds, your back arching as your hips stutter. You lose rhythm but it doesn’t matter, your orgasm swallows you whole. You reach out behind you blindly, your nails digging into his hair, scratching his scalp. You hear Shanks hiss as you cry out. He bites the top of your ear, and follows it down to your earlobe, to lose himself inside the crook of your neck, nuzzling your skin past the necklace. There’s plenty of reminders there–ones he had carefully left behind, but he figures a few more could never hurt. After all, you’re apart so often, he fears you’d soon forget how it feels to be desired and consumed by his affections.

You’re panting, barely coming down from your orgasm when you feel Shanks moving between your legs. His fingers rifle through your folds, enjoying the silky sensation of your cum around his fingers. You mumble something he can’t quite grasp as he tentatively inserts a finger inside you.

“Shanks!” you cry out, panting, eyes barely focused. “Hang on. Gimme a second.” He chuckles next to your ear, curving his finger slightly; searching. You bite your lip to keep from whimpering.

“I gave you plenty of seconds,” he says softly, playfully–as if he was singing. “You had your fun. I want to have some too.” You tremble in his embrace as he inserts another finger, and starts scissoring them inside you. You know he’d be annoyed, as you stay as quiet as possible, but you want to hear the way his fingers squelch when they go in and out of you. You want to hear him panting, the little soft moans that puff past his swollen lips. You want to feel him digging into your ass with his hips, feel his leaky cock on your skin.

“You’re doing it again,” he chastises as he pulls his fingers out. You gasp at the empty feeling, immediately craving him as soon as he’s gone. “I guess my fingers aren’t enough, huh?”

You swallow thickly, and move your hips testily, wiggling your ass against his erection. The look you give him over your shoulder is seductive enough to threaten to blow his head wide open.

“If you know that then why don’t you hurry up and put it in?” you mumble breathlessly. You’re breathing so loudly, Shanks swears he can hear you panting inside his head; over and over. “Or do I need to help you with that too?”

Shanks resists the urge to laugh. He scoffs instead, a tinge of embarrassment weighing heavily on his face. He didn’t need your help period when it came down to pleasing you. Your assumption was daring, and insulting. Perhaps he should teach you a lesson–a good one–before he leaves again. Shanks uses his free hand to guide his cock towards your entrance. He swirls the tip around your opening, watching gleefully as you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to slip inside you.

“Impatient as usual,” he remarks, a broad grin as he avoids your entrance again, choosing to slide his tip up and down between your folds instead. “Good things come to those who wait. Ever heard of it?”

“Your English sayings mean nothing to me,” you mumble, despite understanding fully well what he was saying. You turn your head, trying to glare at him over your shoulder as best as you could while he was still busy teasing you with his cock. You shiver as you speak: “What about ‘el que tiene tienda que la atienda’? Ever heard of that one?”

Shanks chuckles again, kissing your ear, and your temple. He lets his mouth linger there as he presses his tip against your entrance. You breathe in a gasp, full to the brim with expectation.

“You’re right, never heard of it,” he mumbles against your skin as he pushes forward, sinking into you slowly. You moan softly, it rumbles at the bottom of your throat, and drops into the pit of your belly where it starts a fire. “You should teach me more. What does it mean?”

Your brain can barely comprehend his words. All you can think of, all you feel, is Shanks cock moving inside you, you feel his body behind yours, his strong arm wrapping around your waist. All you can smell is his breath on your skin, all you can feel is the heat his kisses leave behind.

“So?” he asks you again, moving his hips slowly as he lets you adjust around his girth. “You won’t tell me?” Your gasp is ragged, little jitters shaking your body with pleasure. Shanks was no small man, and this was not even close to your first time with him, but he always took you by surprise. Not that you’d ever back down and admit defeat.

“Gimme a sec,” you spit through clenched teeth. He begins thrusting into you, picking up the pace without another word. His pelvis slaps into your ass, making a loud sound as skin hits skin. His balls feel heavy against your swollen pussy. “I said–gimme a damn…” You moan loudly, and press your head against his chest. Shanks smiles and cranes his neck to kiss your cheek.

“Take your time,” he grunts in between thrusts. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to keep from crying out but as usual, he reaches deep inside you, to the spongy spot that makes you fall apart. You gasp loudly, pants becoming closer and closer together. Shanks slides his hand from your belly to your breast. He grips it tightly, kneading, as he sucks on your neck, his fingers expertly finding your perky nipples.

They were already sore and sensitive from his earlier teasing, now, you could barely resist him.

You cry out, feeling control slip right past your fingers.

“W-wait!” you beg, kicking your legs impulsively. Shanks lets go of your breast to pin it down, as he continues fucking you from behind. He squeezes your legs together, creating an even tighter sensation as he thrusts in and out of you. You whimper, and shake, eyes unfocused as pleasure pools at the center of you. Your pussy throbs and aches. Shanks can’t help but grin at the way your pussy squelches every time he moves. You’re dripping so much he feels your sweet juices down to his balls.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says through gritted teeth but you don’t respond. He looks over at your face quickly, and realizes with glee that you won’t be telling him anything soon. Your hair still wet, is disheveled and tangled, partially sticking to your flushed face. Your cheeks glow under the scone lights, brown and warm and enticing. Your eyes are blown wide, lips glossy and swollen from all the kissing. On your neck and chest he can see bruises blooming already, only made all the prettier by the necklace hanging from your neck and over your breasts.

You look devoured, glorified and an absolute mess. Just the way he likes you.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he asks you, his breath scalding against your cheek. His hand is clamped tightly on your thigh, keeping your legs tightly together. “You’ll cum for me, right, Doll? After all, I came all the way here to see your pretty face. To give you one of the necklaces you love so much. To give you all of this,” he says with a violent thrust. “Because I know how much you love it.”

You reach behind you blindly, savagely, your arm grasping his upper arm. You scratch his skin with your nails as you continuously cry out, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix almost painfully. You reach out again, his hip, his ass, a part of his shoulder. You know you’re not being kind, your nails digging deep to leave your mark, but you have lost your grip on reason.

You cry out his name when you cum, twisting, and shivering under his embrace. Shanks holds you tightly, not stopping his hips. He continues to fuck into you, grunting louder and louder. He moans your name against your neck, as you feel him stiffen. His hips stutter, as he spills into you, losing sense of rhythm. Your body is too sore, and your mind too fuzzy for you to care about him cumming inside you.

Normally, you’d chew him out for it, but you had lost your fight the moment he shoved his cock in your pussy.

“Hey,” he drawls, licking the shell of your ear. You shudder, eyes fluttering close as your body feels heavier and heavier. You could fall asleep right there, if you really wanted to, covered in his scent, full of his cum and so spent. “You haven’t told me yet what it means.”

You somehow find the strength to laugh lightly.

“It means if you’re not here to fuck me, somebody else will be,” you reply, looking up over your shoulder at him with heavy lidded eyes. Shanks gasps dramatically and drops a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

“See? All you try to do is hurt me,” he whispers with a crooked smile. You reach up with one hand to cup his cheek and bring him closer to your mouth. You rest your lips just over his.

“And you like it too,” you tell him before kissing him once more.

#shanks x you #shanks x y/n #shanks x reader #shanks smut #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece imagines #one piece smut #for the cummunity!

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