#will try to a few more done before the end of the month

[bunnys-kisses]

you had how many kids? (141 + more)

lost post - sorry!

captain john price -

the first time price sank his cock into you. it was game over. you are probably going to end up with at least six kids running around a big piece of land in the center of the british isle. equal split between three girls and three boys. the price genes must be strong because they all look like spitting images of their father.

price loves his wife though, he just thinks you're the sweetest thing since honey. after you put the kids to bed and you're in your bedroom, your darling husband can't help but hold onto you by the hips and maybe rub up against you. your softness, so motherly. it almost makes his mouth water. he tries to convince you for baby number seven but you just tell him that there's no way that's happening. but price is a cunning man and maybe a few mind blowing orgasms will change your mind.

simon 'ghost' riley -

your daughter was an accident. it was simon's last night at home before he got deployed again. and he spent that entire night sunk into your sweet cunt. you'd find out a month into his deployment that you were pregnant. worried about telling him, you kept it to yourself. you were anxious about the news throwing him off his game and him getting hurt. he needed to come home alive.

when he came home, he made sure he treated his missus right. while the pregnancy was a bit of a shock, he made sure he made up for lost time. and while that often had you on your back. it almost meant being spoiled by your husband. your daughter was close to being the biggest the hospital had delivered. you two would be content with your daughter, who took mostly after you. but within five years she would be going around proclaiming that she was going to be a big sister!

john 'soap' mactavish -

oh johnny was a smart man. he knew what he wanted and he got it with ease. he wanted to take you back home, settle you down in a night place in edinburgh. he was thinking in the stockbridge neighbourhood, where you and him could raise your kids in peace. the first time he held you in a mating press he knew that he wanted to be the father to your (many) children. he'd take care of ya, never let the mother of his children be without. he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, a seal of his promise. you end up with two boys, only eleven months apart (the look you got from your doctor when she found out you were pregnant so soon). they were mactavish boys that was for sure. their father's dark hair and he winning smile.

johnny does want a daughter however, he imagined she'd be a spitting image of you. while he loved his boys, there was no question about that, he thought a daughter would complete your little family. curious eyes like yours, that beautiful smile. as he kissed your neck and dug his fingers into your soft hips. maybe he could convince you in a few years to try for one.

kyle 'gaz' garrick -

kyle never thought that he would've ever been a father. when he signed up for service, he didn't expect to be done with that role well beyond when it would be suitable to be a father. so your son was an accident. he could almost pinpoint the night of his conception. he was home from abroad and the two of you spent the entire night (and the following morning) becoming requited with your bodies. you giggled when he showed off his more toned muscles and his fingers got tangled in your hair. his dark eyes felt familiar, like home, under the soft light of your bedroom. The resulting time together produced his son.

you don't end up with a big family, while you two live in a decently sized home just outside the city he is content with it just being the three of you. he'd rather be the best parent to one then worse off to more. he was a good father to his son, proud of the little baby. even when he woke you both up at all hours of the night. it was life and kyle was happy. but when your son turned five, you had something to share with kyle. you were pregnant again. he had to admit, after that, the idea of having a few more kids wasn't a bad idea.

bonus! bonus! bonus!

phillip graves -

oh phillip wants a full house. he didn't buy that nice piece of land outside of houston for show. big yard, white picket fence, in a safe neighourhood (can't have you getting hurt!). he'd be living out his all american dream. so when you ended up pregnant five months after marriage with twins, he was beyond happy. he thought your pregnant body was beautiful, even well into your second trimester he was fucking that sweet cunt of yours. telling you how good of a mama you were.

phillip thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. even when the aches and pains of pregnancy come and go, he'd making sure that his wife is good. if he can't be around, he sends his shadows to make sure that you and the kiddos are alright. so expect a big, loving all american family. you'd never thought you'd be spending your twenties caring for almost five kids!

col. alejandro vargas -

alejandro wants you safe. and you being pregnant can cause some issues. it makes you a target, so you packed up your life and headed somewhere more quiet. most information about you was redacted from public and private records. he even went as far as to change your name and identification. it was for you, for him and for the daughter you eventually had. but despite that, when alejandro returned home. he was the shadow to your daughter. she knew who her daddy was. eventually when he can get out of the snare of the military, he was home. your little place in the middle of nowhere, he promised to protect you and your little bundle.

the times he visited while you were pregnant though. he loved to run his hands up and down your swollen middle. he smiled at you, almost proud of what he did to you. while you'd in the end have only your daughter, it was a complete home. and don't worry, after your daughter's birth he is more than willing to show how much he loved his sweet wife.

rodolfo "rudy" parra -

oh rudy, sweet rudy. he couldn't help himself. the first time you fucked, or rather made love, he knew he wanted to breed that pussy of yours. he was using a condom, but he could picture himself doing it bare backed. the feeling of your slippery cunt tight around him. nothing protecting you from accidents. he'd often daydream on his off time about the three kids you had. he had even picked names out for them, but he'd get your input on it as well. after all you were the beautiful woman who was carrying them. such a good wife to him.

he left the military when you got pregnant, as did you. life became less about the violent conflicts and more about raising your son. he was a quiet baby, and rudy adored him. he also adored his beautiful wife who worked so hard to give him his son. he reminded you of that often. you do end up with those three kids within a five year gap and rudy couldn't be happier.

könig-

oh, könig. he knew that you'd be carrying a big baby. like look at him, he towered over you and could easily bench you in your third trimester. so he wasn't expecting a whole army of children. one very large boy was enough for him. the 99th percentile. but he was there the entire time, he made sure that you were taken care of. he felt safe having his larger body up against yours, protecting it. he'd rub your belly with his large hand. even if you were very pregnant, you still were small compared to him.

he loves his son, obviously. the first time he held him, he almost cried. he was a father now. he had a wife and a child, a home to call his home and a place to feel safe. he was an attentive father, he was used to being up early. so you got to sleep in while he checked in on your son. he made sure to teach him german, english and a few of the other languages he had picked up. he was going to make sure his son knew all about the world. he was a proud father!

[uyuuma]

“ MATTE BLACK ”

satoru gojo x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. your boyfriend, satoru gojo, is driving you home from a long day out. you decide to repay him for the fun date, while he's fuckin' driving. (damn girl, can't wait till you get home first?)

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, praise kink, using pet names, oral (male receiving), deepthroating, hairpulling, this is all while he drives btw, etc.

❥ a/n. mb guys ik it's been a few months but i'm having horrible writers block. i have a bunch of drafts atm. wrote this cos i may or may not have done this irl >:) also this is bc im still coping with ch 261 in jjk

❥ wc. 3k

"Are you sleepy, baby?" A voice asked softly, ripping you from the dream-like state you were under. You blinked rapidly, little droplets forming on the corners of your sleepy eyes. A quiet yawn escaped your lips as you stretched in your plush seat. You turn your head to look over at Gojo, as he lovingly glances at your sleepy form in his passenger seat. Your lashes drooped as your mind slowly regained consciousness, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up from your groggy condition. Gojo let out a chuckle as his eyes stayed glued to the road ahead. "Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you from your precious slumber." he apologized, his faint smile being illuminated from the bright red lights on the dashboard. "S'okay baby, didn't mean to fall asleep anyway." you muttered, another yawn threatening to escape your throat. You looked ahead at the road, it was a straight freeway that stretched out for miles on end. It was already dark out, hardly any lighting besides the bright headlights of his car. It was slightly mesmerizing to you, seeing the surrounding environment race by in a blur. You could tell you were still quite a ways from home, you were in a very rural area. No cars, buildings, or signs of civilization have passed by since you woke up. "Poor baby, we had such a long day together. You should nap some more, it'll be a while till we get home, 'kay?" Gojo rested his large hand on your thigh, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. He moved his hand so that he could cup your cheek, trying to further coax you into going back to sleep. You giggled, shrugging your left shoulder so that you could lean into his palm. "I'm fine, Satoru... I'm not that sleepy." You kissed his hand and leaned back into the chair, peering out the windshield to see the sparkling stars in the night sky. As he withdrew his hand to change gears, you moved yours to fiddle with the radio. Gojo always gives you aux because you are his pretty princess that he loves to spoil. He didn't mind whatever songs you chose to play, even if your playlists were an incoherent mess. You tapped on the screen, skipping a couple of songs before landing on the one you wanted.

You grinned, satisfied with the choice. Gojo also seemed pleased by your choice as he gently bobbed his head to the beat. He shifted gears again then rested his hand on your thigh once more. A gesture which was normally so innocent and comforting had your head spinning. You weren't sure what had suddenly caused you to feel so worked up, but it certainly caused you to become more alert. You bounced your other leg in anticipation, sorting through your options. You want Gojo now. In fact, you were down bad for him all day, but since you two were enjoying the day together you brushed it off. But now it's different, now you have privacy. Now you were cooped up in his Dodge Challenger, home still miles away. Come to think of it, his car was definitely one of his prized possessions as he always took amazing care of it. The interior was always so clean, the matte black seats and dashboard almost disappeared into the night. It smelled faintly of his cologne and the 'black ice' tree car freshener that hung from his rearview mirror. The masculine blend of scents added to the growing arousal pooling in your tummy, as if his car was full of pheromones. But even if it wasn't the way he cared for his car or the hypnotic aroma that danced around your senses, just the way he drove enchanted you. He drove with such confidence, only needing one hand on the wheel. The way his veins would pop out of his pale hand when he would switch gears. His long legs shifted somewhat to hit the gas or clutch. It was as if your boyfriend mastered the art of driving. It was the true reason you made him drive most of the time, Gojo believing it to be because you weren't as confident in driving. Nope, the true reason was that you were too enamored with being his little passenger princess to ever dare getting into the driver's seat again. Realizing that you were full on ogling Gojo as he drove, you shifted your observant eyes to take in his handsome face. He was focused on the road, his right hand now holding the wheel. His left arm rested against the car door, propping up his tired head on his fist. His body language was fatigued and you understood that he too, was drowsy. Your lips tugged into a frown, growing empathy and guilt in your body. You wanted to find a way to keep your boyfriend awake, while also repaying him for spoiling you all day.

That was when your gaze settled on his crotch, a little idea popping into your head. You knew exactly how to spoil him back and you weren't waiting till you guys got home to do it.

"Satoru..." you muttered, a lilt to your soft voice. You rest your hand on his thigh this time, fingers stroking the rough wrinkles in his dark jeans.

"Yes, princess?" He asked curiously, his thigh twitching from your little touches.

"Want to repay you for today." you hummed, your head leaning onto the edge of your seat. You batted your lashes at him innocently, not sure if he could see from the dark interior.

Per his immaculate eyesight however, he saw how you put on an innocent act. He cocked his head in confusion, a small laugh leaving his lips. "Baby, you don't owe me anything. Don't be silly." he assured you.

You pout, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. Of course he wouldn't let you pay back monetarily... however that's not what you meant.

"Not like that..." you mewled. You guided your hand down to his crotch, fingers caressing the fabric that separated you from his cock. You smirked, feeling how his dick stirred underneath his jeans. Seems like he wanted you too.

He sucked air in through his teeth, a sharp hiss escaping his lips. "Naughty girl..." he muttered, his gaze remained fixed to the freeway.

"I'll happily take you as payment then." He chuckled, moving his left hand to grip onto the steering wheel. His now free hand met yours as he pressed your palm harder against his length. He groaned, letting himself enjoy your touch for a little longer. Once he grew impatient he began to unbuckle his belt with right hand, left hand still steering the wheel. He undid his belt and moved the strap of his seatbelt so that it was resting against his abs. He followed suit with unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. The sounds of the clanking belt buckle and zipper sent shivers down your spine and a familiar warmth to your cunt.

He skillfully hooked his thumb into the waistband and bucked his hips up to lower his jeans. He pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It was half hard but even in its softer state it was big.

In an instant your hand gathered his length, giving it a few pumps to get him to 100%. He let out a low groan, his grip tightening on the steering wheel's leather.

You lazily slid your palm along his cock, enjoying the feeling of him growing inside of your grip. You knew you were efficient at your job when his cock became too much for just one hand to hold. His blushing tip started to gush with precum. He twitched in your grasp as you wiped the sticky fluid with your thumb.

Your mind became so dizzy and cloudy, watching how his abs flexed and body shuddered from any small movement you made. You admired the fluffy white happy trail that lead down his pelvis. It all was too much for you to handle any longer.

You could feel your slutty little mouth salivate, hungry to finally shove him into any hole you could fit him into.

To be completely fair, it was a difficult task to fit him anywhere. His dick was just so long. You always bruised the back of your throat whenever you sucked him off, but it's so worth it.

You finally shuffled in your chair, moving your hips so that the seatbelt that constricted your lap was now beneath your shins. You sat up, the only thing keeping you safely tied to your seat was the chest strap.

Gojo's ears perked, hearing how your movements caused the belt to zip in extension to your body. The chest strap slid down your upper body and nestled itself between your stomach and pelvis.

You were lucky that the center console was low, it gave you perfect access to his lap. You leaned over it, your head lowering over his throbbing cockhead. He let out a sigh in relief as your lips finally touched his aching cock. You teased him a bit, giving his leaky tip a few kisses before sticking your tongue out. Your tongue licked a fat strip up his warm shaft, earning you a muffled groan from Gojo. You grinned, looking down at how your spit glistened on his skin as if admiring your work.

Gojo grunted, feeling how the cold air pricked at the saliva you left behind. He felt himself lose his patience, his grip on the wheel tightening. His right hand felt around, trying to keep his gaze attached to the street. Once he felt your hair, he lovingly stroked your head, a small chuckle leaving his throat.

"Princess... you're testing my patience." He croons in a gentle, yet warning manner. His fingers intertwined with your hair so that he could give it a tug.

You gasped, feeling the slight sting in your scalp from his commanding yank on your locks. Averting your gaze from his lap to look up at him, you could make out his strong features even in the darkness. His sharp jawline and the way his mouth contorted in a cocky grin made your mind run wild. You decide to comply with his warning, knowing your delicate throat wasn't prepared to take his relentless pace yet.

You roll out your tongue and open wide, slowly taking his length into your mouth. His breath hitched feeling how your tongue glided against his skin, how you hollowed out your cheeks and clenched around him so heavenly.

"Good fucking girl..." he sighed, dragging out the syllables in bliss. His fingers slipped from your hair, so that he could gently rest it atop your crown. His hand only ever left your head when he had to switch gears.

You immersed yourself into the act, bobbing your head up and down to build a delicious rhythm that you knew Gojo couldn't resist. You could hear his breathing became labored, even with your eyes closed you could imagine how his built chest heaved underneath that tight black shirt.

Gojo's attempts to concentrate on his driving and the road ahead became extremely challenging as he felt his girlfriend's throat swallow him up so well. He desperately wanted to throw his head back, for his long white lashes to flutter shut as he let you take over. However, it wasn't exactly an option at this point in time so he controlled his urges for the time being.

You were fully occupied with dragging your tongue tantalizingly against his length, not caring about how much saliva had started to pool on his pelvis. It felt so lewd to swallow him up while he drove you home, knowing how much restraint he had to use to make sure he didn't run the car off the road. The thrill and danger of it all made you moan messily into his slick skin, inhibitions already out the window.

Feeling your mouth reverberate as you moaned, sent his eyes to dart to the back of his head. Although, it was momentary as he remembered he was supposed to be driving. He forced his body to keep the involuntary movements to a minimum, trying to hone all of his energy into heavy breathing and moans.

Gojo was normally never this vocal, but right now he was pouring all of his bliss into sounds. His grunts only fueled your resolve to take him deeper and deeper... until...

'GLUK!' You choked as his tip prodded past the back of your tongue. Your lungs burned as you held back a cough, mentally cursing yourself for forgetting how lengthy your boyfriend is. You went to remove him from your mouth to gasp for air when your neck felt resistance, stopping you in your tracks. "Mmph!" A muffled cry escaped your mouth as Gojo held your head in place.

"Shhhshhh... doin' so well for me baby. C'mon, practice breathing through your nose like I showed you." Your white-haired boyfriend preened, his hand unwavering as he held down your head.

You were definitely going to give him shit for this when you got home, but in this instance you were cock drunk enough to let this slide. In fact, your body gave into his touch almost immediately, your neck no longer fought against his push. You could feel his cock reach the deepest parts of your throat, a place that you had always struggled to let him into.

Your lungs ached and burned from a lack of oxygen, so you took note of his words as started to breathe through your nose. As you blew air out your nose, it tickled the white hairs that decorated Gojo's pelvis.

Gojo was so proud of how well you were taking his dick down your throat, he could feel his orgasm building quickly. His knuckles were turning white from the incredible grip that he held on the steering wheel. If you could see it, you would undoubtedly drool from the sight of his veins popping out along his knuckles.

He could no longer help how his hips thrusted lightly into your face or how his foot dangerously pushed down on the gas pedal harder and harder. Just the way you were struggling to take him made his head spin in ecstasy. His eyes darted between the road and your pretty little head going down on him, biting down on his lip as he felt himself near the edge.

Before he knew it, he checked the speedometer and his eyes widened in shock.

"Oh shit!" He whisper-shouted, his hand flying out of your hair and onto the shifter. He let off the gas, hit the clutch, and switched gears as he slowed down the car in a huff.

"Fuck princess... makin' me go a hundred here." He chuckled, slight panic still left in his voice. The panic very soon melted away as you sucked in your cheeks and moved your head at a mind-numbing pace.

"Christ..." He huffed as your throat molded to the slight curve of his cock, your muffled moans and hums made him swear he could see god at this very moment. You became so absorbed in his praises that you didn't feel at all panicked that he almost went 120 mph while your face was nestled in his lap. In fact, that only excited you further.

"Fuck baby... m'almost there!" He whimpered, not daring to change the pressure on the gas pedal any further. He held down your head, cock twitching as he prepared to fill you with his load.

You groaned, feeling how he definitely bruised the back of your throat with that last push, your nose pressing into his skin as he gave one last buck.

"Fuck, m'cumming so hard!" Gojo grunted as his muscles tensed up. You suddenly felt the warm sensation of his hot seed spurting down your throat. You swallowed to the best of your ability, the thick fluid causing your esophagus to feel dry. Gojo let out a few more groans and grunts, before his hand let go of your head.

Your head shot up, gasping for air as you recovered from the brutal throat-fucking you just received. Your hands gently held your neck as you came down from your own high.

Gojo's breathing was still heavy as he composed himself behind the wheel. He chuckled, pulling his pants back up since the warmth of your mouth was lost. He glanced down at you every-so-often to make sure you were recovering okay.

"You did such a good job, baby." Gojo praised, his hand coming down to stroke your hair again.

"Throat is sore 'cause of you." You rasped, a slight scowl on your face as you came to your senses. Although you were pouting, you still made sure to help him zip up his pants and buckle his belt.

"I know, I know... I may have gone overboard a bit." He nervously laughed, his fingers pinching your cheek to tease you.

You sat up, hissing from the pain in your ribs from bending over the center console for so long. You must've been too wrapped up in the act to realize how uncomfortable the position was.

You readjusted yourself in his matte black seat, properly buckling yourself to the chair as to not violate the law (as if you weren't doing so a few minutes ago). You fixed up your hair and swallowed thickly, your throat definitely needed some water eventually.

"You were such a good girl f'me though. How about we get you an ice cold slushy and some cough drops to soothe your hard-working throat?" Gojo recommended, his hand resting on your thigh once more.

Your face instantly went from a pout to an excited grin. "Yes, please! Can I pick which gas station, though?" You asked, fingers already tapping the gps to find the closest preferred rest stop.

"Of course, anything for my princess." Gojo responded, being unable to hide the sappy tone in his voice.

Gojo did however hide a smirk though, knowing he was definitely inspired to do more lewd activities in his car again.

This was only the beginning for him and his beloved passenger princess.

[enhaheeseung]

At your service l. Heeseung

Pairing: live in maid heeseung x rich fem reader

Warnings: age gap, crying, angst, heartbreak, I think I’ll post like three more chaps before the end I hope you all enjoy

• Masterlist

• WC: 2,127k

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Finally, it was your birthday today, and heeseung had almost everything prepared.

The gifts he had gotten you still needed to be wrapped. He bought a book with writing prompts in it since you were still struggling with the continuation of your book.

He also got you something really really special and really really expensive so expensive that he’d be even more late paying off his student loans but for you it was worth it without a doubt.

He made a strawberry cake from scratch, remembering that you loved anything that included strawberries.

He smiled to himself while he worked on the final touches of your surprise in the kitchen.

It’s crazy cause just a couple months ago he didn’t know how to cook and he barely had a penny to his name and now he’s baking you cakes from start to finish and buying you luxurious jewelry.

He decided to forego the candles on the cake since you were always so conscious about your age for reasons he did not understand.

He didn’t mind the age gap, truthfully; he kind of actually liked it at first. Yeah, he was just interested in having sex with an older woman, and that’s very douchey, he’ll admit that, but now there's so much more to you than sex.

Don’t get him wrong, sex with you is amazing, perfect, absolutely marvelous, but now that he’s grown to learn more about you, everything with you is amazing, perfect, and marvelous, even the little things.

Chatting with you is fun, cuddling with you is fun, going out with you is fun, and watching you concentrate and write your book is fun. Things he never even liked doing before are now some of his favorite things to do. He loves reading books to you, and he used to hate reading. He’s usually an outdoor person, but he loves staying indoors with you. Cooking was the last thing on his list of things to do, and now he wakes up early in the morning to happily prepare breakfast for you just so he can see your eyes light up with joy.

He’s so in love that he’s doing things he would have never even dreamed of just to make you happy and give you what you deserve.

He put his whole heart into decorating the cake and the kitchen where he’d be throwing your little party later on. “You think mommy’s gonna love the surprise?” He bent down, patting Bruno on his little head.

Heeseung had dressed him up for the occasion, a blue bow tie around his neck identical to the one he was wearing.

Meanwhile, Bruno was busy trying to lick the frosting off the tip of the frosting bag. “Bad puppy,” Heeseung sighed and stood up so he could put the finishing touches on everything and make it perfect for you.

About 30 minutes later he was done everything was set up nicely and he snapped a few pictures before he gave you your gifts.

“Hee can I come down now?” You asked anxiously half nervous half excited you’d be stuck in your bed all day since morning.

Your mind drifts back to earlier when you both woke up in the morning and the soft loving touches he left on your body.

You cupped your flushed cheeks you could still feel his hands on your skin you could still remember the way felt inside you and you could still hear the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear.

That was the perfect way to start your birthday morning, and it was even more perfect when he brought you breakfast in bed.

Hints why you’ve been in bed all day he treated you like a princess and wouldn’t let you lift a single finger today.

He smiles looking in the direction of your voice. “Wait one more minute darling!” he picked up Bruno and set him on the kitchen counter making sure their bow ties were neat. “Okay you can come down!” He called to you his phone in hand so he could record your reaction and it didn’t disappoint.

You took one last step down the stairs and walked to the kitchen, turning the corner to see your whole entire dining space completely decorated with all your favorite colors there were balloons a banner that said happy birthday and then there were your two boys looking at you. “Surprise!” Heeseung said with a bright smile on his face.

“Oh my gosh,” you cupped your hands over your mouth in awe of what he had prepared just for you.

“Happy birthday, baby. I hope you love it,” he said shyly, and you ran over to him with your arms spread.

“Thank you I do love it hee so much” you kissed his cheek and looked at Bruno. “My boys are so handsome” you patted his head. “But I love you more” you said wrapping your hands around his neck kissing him properly this time.

“Hmm” he grins gripping your waist. “I’m glad baby now are you ready for the presents?” He asked rubbing your lower back softly as he ended the recording and set his phone on the counter top.

You nodded, smiling excitedly with anticipation.

“Wait here love I’m gonna go grab them from upstairs” he jogged upstairs he was so excited for you to see what he got you.

“Daddy the best, isn’t h-?” Your words were cut through when a ding on heeseung’s phone went off.

The phone lit up for a few seconds with a message and dimmed a few moments later.

Heeseung was rummaging through his drawer in search of your presents he opened the box with the piece of jewelry and when the light hit it just right it was mesmerizing.

He wanted to buy a promise ring for you, but he also didn’t want to rush into things so quickly and risk making you uncomfortable or feel pressured into anything, so he opted for something that you could still wear every day, just without the heavy commitment.

It was a custom piece a half heart made out of white gold and tiny little diamond’s with his initial on it the other half identical except it was made out of onyx and it completed the heart when put together.

He though it was a perfect idea cause now that way you both could always have a piece of each other close to your hearts.

The notifications on heeseung’s phone were nonstop, so you decided to look at them. He kept his phone unlocked, so you doubted he’d care. Plus, with as many texts coming in, it sounded urgent. You called for him upstairs, but he just responded with. “I’ll be down soon, baby,” as he was wrapping the last of your presents.

You shrugged and took a peak just to make sure everything was fine, and you wished you hadn’t.

“Bro, you’re never going to believe this.”

“Hello?”

“Answer me!”

“Or can you not because you’re fucking your boss again?”

“When are you going to stop stringing that poor girl along just make the money and leave like you said she probably thinks you love her.”

Your hand instantly cupped your mouth and your heart was racing as you read the texts over and over again.

Your body moved in its own and you charged upstairs to confront him. “Y/n? What are you doing up here you’re gonna ruin the surprise” he chuckles turning his back so you can’t see anything just yet.

“You mean this surprise?” You hold up his phone, walking over to him, and shoving it in his face so he can read the messages and his face drops. “What the fuck is this heeseung?!” You shout on the verge of tears.

“Baby…” he looked over at you, his eyes filled with fear.

“Don’t fucking baby me. Just what is this heeseung?” He flinched from your yelling, his expression softening as he tried to think of what he should say.

“T-that’s not true, y/n. I do love you; I jus-”

“Then why is your friend talking to you about this?” Your voice gave out while you searched his eyes, hoping to find some type of answers.

“I-I,” he sighs, stumbling over his words before he decides to just tell you the truth. “In the beginning, it was true, and I know I’m wrong for that baby. I’m so-“

“Don’t” you stopped him right there that’s all you needed to hear. “And don’t call me that anymore.”

“Y/n, please just let me expl-“

“There’s no explanation, heeseung, just go,” you told him weekly and tossed the phone on his bed in disappointment. You really thought he was different turns out he’s just like the rest, but with him, it hurt just a little more than all the others.

“Y/n…” he tried to reach for you before you left.

“I said go!” His mouth was parted open for a moment and it closed as you were walking away he reached for you again but you shook his hand off and this time you turned around smacking him right across his face the loud slap echoing in the silent room.

He gasped at the sting of the slap, his eyes getting teary.

Bruno was upstairs now, barking loudly at heeseung as you both stared at each other with hurt in both of your teary eyes.

He cupped his cheek, his heart breaking in his chest as he tried to register what was even happening. This couldn’t be true. This all had to be some type of cruel, sick joke.

In the morning, you both made love and now you’re fighting.

For the first time in a long time, he was finally happy, and now this happens.

“Just get your shit and go” You left the room, Bruno walking on your trail as you went into your bedroom to try and make sense of what just happened.

Heeseung stood there speechless, swallowing the lump in his throat as hot tears trickled down his cheek.

He sat on the bed holding your necklace in his hand, clutching it tightly.

“They’re all the same, aren’t they, buddy? But you would never do that to me, huh?” You grabbed his small body, sitting him on your chest, and you didn’t even cry. You’ve been hurt too many times for that. You just stared lifelessly at the ceiling, and you knew only time would make this pain and disappointment go away.

Heeseung had slowly packed all of his things his limbs feeling heavy with every move and within an hour the room looked like how it did when he first got there.

He couldn’t believe he was actually leaving. It just didn’t feel real.

But the heavy suitcase in his left hand was enough of a sign that this was indeed real.

He knew you probably didn’t want to talk or even see his face right now, but he can’t give up on you like this.

He had to at least try.

“Y/n?” He knocks on your door softly, and you don’t respond. Resting his forehead against the wooden door, he tries to twist the knob, and he’s not surprised that it’s locked. “Please, baby, open up. I love you I love you so much. Everything you saw is true, but then I got to know you, and I just couldn’t help but fall for you. In the beginning, I was just young and dumb. I wasn’t taking life seriously, but when I met you, you were just so open and mature. You told me about your past, and I felt for you. I could see how hurt you were, and I knew you couldn’t trust people, so I wanted to take that all away. I wanted to show you what trust and love could really be like. I grew into a man you could love and be loved by, and you’re just so perfect I can’t lose you now, darling.” he waits a solid five minutes, and it’s nothing but silence other than his cries by the tenth minute with no answer he gets up off the floor grabbing his luggage and wiping his tears. “I love you, y/n,” he says one last time before walking down the staircase.

He looks back at your mansion a sad smile on his face when he saw your birthday decorations still up how could such a special day end up like this.

He leaves his spare key on the lampstand and walks out, locking the door behind him.

He walked the path downstairs a frown on his face when he saw the sunflowers that you both planted together starting to bud.

He wouldn’t be around to see them bloom or your guy's relationship.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

[jasntodds]

Penance [1]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,340

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, a little blood, a little bit of violence

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: It's finally the last book!! I'm honestly so excited lol You don't have to read the previous books to read this one but if you want context, feel free to ask!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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Everything is different. Somehow, everything has changed so much over the last month and a half everything that happened before almost feels like some sort of sick fever dream. It's all very real and all of it happened but everything is different today. At least, to Jason it feels different.

Gotham itself is pretty much the same. Bruce has been back and doing his whole Batman thing. The only difference is he doesn't have a Robin now but his methods remain the same, it's the same routine for him, same big bads. It's the same for him. The businesses that were boarded up during Crane's reign are up and running, everything looking to be the same just as it was before. The air around the city is still smoggy and the rain is still cold and wet. The streets sound the same just as they always did and the gargoyle keeps Jason company just as it did before. So much is the same but he feels like everything is different.

Instead of him and Bruce butting heads over him being Robin, they're butting heads over his methods. Bruce has no issue with Red Hood but he does have a problem with the killing part of it. And Jason won't budge. He swears he's not bitter about what happened but he is firm in his belief that change needs to happen. It stops with him and Bruce can either fight him or get on board. They are trying to come to some sort of agreement which is significantly better than how it would have went before. Bruce keeps the Robin suit in the case. He won't tell Jason why.

Their relationship is different now. Jason thinks it might be for the better.

He hopes it's for the better.

His living situation is different than it was before. He has his own place, the main safe house he used while Crane ran the city. It's not anything too special yet and Jason doesn't have too many things that are his but it's coming along. And that is his. It almost feels like it did when he was on the streets but this time, it is his choice. It is his choice to be alone here. And he owns it. No one can come and kick him out, no one can come and arrest him for trespassing and breaking and entering, it is his. It might feel lonely sometimes after living with Bruce and the Titans for so long but it is his and it brings him some sort of pride in a way.

He works with Barbara mostly now. Whenever something a bit more dicey pops up or Bruce is busy, she calls Jason. It's his literal job now and he would be lying if he said he didn't like it. Him and Babs get along better now. Actually, him and the Titans get along better now. There's still plenty of work to be done but his relationship with them has been on the mend, something he is eternally grateful for. He still owes them.

Then there's you.

Things are different with you.

"I will be back as soon as the threat is taken care of." Bruce states as he grabs a few things from the Batcave. "Are you sure you can handle this?" Bruce asks, not because of his lack of confidence in Jason's abilities but rather his general mental health.

"I got it, man." Jason brushes him off. "Nothing I haven't done before. You've gone with the Justice League plenty of times." Jason holds back his snippy attitude, trying his best to level with Bruce and not let his anger get the best of him.

"Before you were..." Bruce trails off in a way that makes Jason shift his weight off his bad leg. "Robin." He nods once, sternly and hard. "That was before."

"I'm fine." Jason nearly whines, desperate to not get into that. They don't talk about it. "I got it." He gestures his arms out casually.

"Okay." Bruce states with a sigh. "Do not blow anything or anyone up again." Bruce warns.

The touch of a smirk pulls at his lips. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

There may have been an explosion near Harbor last week with some gun runners inside. Jason may or may not have been in the area patrolling. And that group may or may not have been the group Jason had been tracking over the last few days. Jason does think the explosion really helped though. They got all the guns and all the people involved in one sweep. Seemed efficient.

"I know it was you." Bruce states easily.

"Nope." Jason shakes his head but the grin is tugging at his lips, knowing damn well he's guilty.

Bruce lets out a sigh, not bothering to argue with him over it. "Just...keep it down, Jason." Bruce states and he's gone out of town a hundred times but something about this being the first time since Jason died and has been brought back almost makes him nervous.

Jason can handle himself. He's been doing it. This is only his second time in the Batcave over the last month and a half and only his third time back at the manor. He's doing well on his own, all things considered, but he is Bruce's son and Bruce does worry even if he doesn't show it.

"It'll be fine, just go. I got it all handled. Pick up your job you're working, almost got the one from Babs and..." Jason pauses feeling his mouth run dry. "Molly said y/n's got a few she's working."

Bruce eyes him, knowing very little but knowing enough about the situation between the two of you. "You should call her." Bruce tries to say it casually.

"No." Jason states simply. "And you're not allowed to give me advice here. The one that got away? Seriously, man?" Jason lets out a scoff.

Of all people, Jason does not want relationship advice from Bruce. Bruce had a solid chance with Selina and apparently, he's still hung up on her and is doing nothing about it. He could have had something great with Talia, too but that didn't end well. Jason is not looking to take advice from Bruce and he's thinking he shouldn't be taking much relationship advice from anyone he knows. No one seems to be getting that department together anytime soon. The way he sees it, this is fine.

It's fine.

"How did Tim know that?" Bruce questions Jason plainly.

"He stalks us." Jason nearly chortles.

"Well, that is all my advice. Call her, Jason." Bruce nods once at him.

"I'm good." Jason shakes his head. "Now go before Clark shows up and drags you back with him."

Bruce lets out a sigh, making his way through the living room. Bruce offered to let him stay at the manor which Jason declined. He's on his own. He can't come back here. If he's even being honest, he's only thinking Bruce called him to "look out over his jurisdictions" just to check up on him, make sure he feels useful as if Jason doesn't have his own work he's doing. Somewhere in his chest he wants to be mad and fight back over it, swear it's because Bruce doesn't think he can handle it so he's setting him up to prove a point to get him back. But Jason bites it all back, deciding to tell his mind to shut up for fucking once and let this just play out.

He sees Leslie once a week and that helps. He thinks he'll just tell her about it.

Jason finds himself back at the place he's calling home, enabling the alarms once he's safe inside. It's messy and somewhere in the back of his head, he can hear the echo of your voice telling him he should clean because he's not busy now. And he looks at the stuff on the floor, almost willing himself to listen, and then he heads upstairs anyway.

If Jason Todd is good at anything, it's being alone. He's been alone almost his whole life. Even when his dad was around, he was drunk or mean...so he was alone. Even when his mom was alive, she was usually high. She wasn't really with him very much. He adapted to what it's like to be alone. To fend for himself always and somewhere deep in his broken heart, he wishes it weren't this way but he's good at it. He has always pushed until he was alone. He is a natural disaster ripping through the hearts of people who love him so maybe being alone has always been better for him. At least the only thing left to destroy is himself.

Even if being lonely is some of the worst kind of hurt. But this is his penance.

One day, he swears, it won't be like this. That's the point of talking to Leslie and getting along with Bruce and being himself today. One day it won't be like this. A day will come when he won't have to punish himself for all the hurt he's caused. He won't have to punish himself for all the scars he bears at the hands of others and himself. One day he won't have to punish himself for the person he could have been. It just has to be like this today. So, Jason goes up to his room where he keeps his training equipment and monitors and he starts to work on the cipher until it's time for patrol.

The city is warm tonight. Cars are crowding the streets while people walk home from their Saturday night out and a smile pulls at your lips from under your mask as you watch the people below you. Patrol has just started and you're mostly waiting and listening, knowing something is going to happen because it always does on Saturday nights. But, you'd be lying if you said you don't like the view from where you are. Something about Gotham always being pretty at night.

The smog isn't visible, it doesn't look dreary as it usually does during the day. It's just street lights and busy people walking about. A part of you can't believe just a few months ago you were terrified of heights and now you actually enjoy the view.

Things have changed a lot since then.

You live with Molly now, probably how it always should have been. You share a small apartment, this one has better locks on the doors and windows. And every night you teach Molly some self-defense, just in case. If you've learned one thing, it's that you cannot save everyone but you can help them. At least if Molly is somewhat prepared, she has a chance though you could tell by how she moved and certain things she already knew that Jason had taught her a few things before San Francisco. Living with her is nice though. She understands you and there is no judgment. You aren't alone.

Gar and Tim talk to you every single day, updating you with whatever is going on. At first, it was fun stuff on the road trip like sightseeing and museums and bowling. Now, it's the hell Metropolis is currently under. You've never been so happy you stayed behind. You do not want to fight a demon. You'll never admit it, but you wouldn't stand a single chance against Rachel let alone Mother Mayhem and Brother Blood. Though, you are disappointed you missed the whole zombie situation. You're just glad the boys keep you up to date with everything and you talk to Dick and Kory all the time, too. That doesn't feel too different. It feels almost like it did when you first came back to Gotham and you like it this way.

And then there's Jason.

Things are different with Jason.

"Robbery in progress in the East End, convenience store." Molly says through the comms.

"Got it, send the address." You grin wildly behind your mask before you use your grappling hook to lower yourself down the backside of the building.

Molly helping out has been new. You aren't too happy about that part but...Molly was insistent and to tell her no would make you a hypocrite. Molly stays back and is youe eyes in the skies kind of deal which has been very helpful when it comes to patrol. At least that's nice.

You take the bike and head to the address Molly sent you. Patrolling is different now, too. You've always patrolled with Bruce or Jason or the Titans. Even when Jason died, you weren't patrolling. You had set targets and that's who you went out to grab. This is patrol. This is different. You're alone with Molly in your ear. You thought maybe you wouldn't like it, Iike maybe you'd actually be really bad at it being alone. But, if you were being honest, you're really enjoying it this way. You're good at it. And it's fun and you don't have to worry about anyone else. It's just you. Your life. That's it. And you like the thrill a little bit.

Jason shoves the last of four men to the ground, his hands zip-tied behind his back and the man lets out a groan. He glares up at Jason with blood streaming down his nose, his friends all a bit battered but have learned to keep quiet. This one is annoying.

"You broke my fucking nose!" He screams up at Jason.

Jason never quite understood why people committing crimes who get caught, like in this instance for example, are confused by their injuries. They showed up to rob a local small business and expected to get away with it. They're here to possibly ruin something that someone has earned and worked very hard for just because they can. A broken nose seems to be a pretty good deal.

He's not even a stranger to robbery but these guys walked in there armed and prepared to shoot anyone who wanted to get in the way. Jason was also a teenager and desperate. These four men don't seem to be in the same boat and the way Jason sees it, there was no reason to hold a gun to someone's face for a hundred dollars in a cash register. These are not master criminals.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood or your nose would be the last of your worries." Jason says casually through the modulator.

"Good mood?!" The man yells back as if he's the real victim in this situation.

"Yeah, good mood." Jason echoes back about to make another smart comment until he hears the sound of a motorcycle pulling up.

Jason turns around just in time to see it stop and he'd recognize the bike anywhere because it's the same one as his. He'd recognize the blue and black suit anywhere because it's yours.

You pop the helmet off and Jason swears his very heart just burst into flames into his chest and it might just burn through his ribcage. The corner of his lips starts to tug into a shielded smile at the sight of you and his only thought is that he misses you. He asks about you to your friends, not too often but...often enough for them to know. All of them say the same things, you're doing okay but they're worried. You're working with Barbara, too, running different jobs for the PD and you check in on Tim's parents every single day.

Molly always says the least about you.

Every single bone in his body feels hollowed seeing you. But when you lock eyes with him and you don't look happy, the guilt comes back baring its teeth and digging them right into his jugular.

It has been a month and a half and he is trying his best. It hasn't been easy and some days he doesn't try but generally, he's trying. It's hard whenever every breath he takes is haunted by the day he took his last. It's hard trying to figure out his footing. Jason Todd is Red Hood. He knows that. He is Red Hood. Red Hood protects innocent people and uses any means necessary to make sure they stay safe. But he is not a hero. He is doing what must be done and that is all. Jason Todd is Red Hood but outside of that, he doesn't know yet. Instead, he wraps himself in a straightjacket of guilt and remorse and agony and hopes that'll be enough to repay his debts to misery and happiness.

You eye him and it's like you're being exposed to the entire city in an instant. It's as if your suit and mask have been ripped from your body and every scar and insecurity and vulnerability is being displayed in some sort of sick museum as you see him. You have separate sections of the city. You, him, and Bruce. This is Bruce's section but he's out of town with the Justice League. It would have been Jason's to pick up but you didn't even question it when Molly mentioned it.

You wish you would have questioned it.

It is almost a relief he wears a full-face helmet because you aren't entirely sure what you would do if you saw his face, saw his expression. Would he be happy to see you? Disappointed? Mad? Would there be anything left at all or would he just look at you like he would any other vigilante showing up a little too late to help? You aren't sure which of those would be easier to swallow.

Something builds in the space between you, something hard and damaged, sucking the air out from between you. It snarls back at you both almost daring you to go ahead and try to move. Try to make the space less and see just how badly the teeth of grief will hurt this time. Go ahead and tempt death for old time's sake and guilt. Go ahead and try to mend this and pretend it's some sort of coincidence, as if fate has any hand in this. It bites and gnaws at you both as water brims in your eyes, every emotion bubbling over to the surface and grief screams out to you both.

Go ahead and try again, see just how badly this will all end again. It will only end in bloody hands and shredded agony. Guilt laughs in your faces, a devious crackle as if you are not worth the other. The both of you do not deserve forgiveness for the torture you've caused the other. Walk away. You both can hear it over and over again, guilt and grief and resentment and loneliness, walk away.

So, you do.

You pop the helmet back on your head just as Jason turns back to the robbers.

"Where are you going?" Molly asks through the comms as she watches the tracker on her screen start moving.

"You can see him here." You seethe. "I know you can see him, too."

Molly has all of your locations. She shares them with Bruce. It was part of an agreement with her doing this eyes in the skies thing and you being able to keep patrolling. It's how you all keep your sections of the city. Molly knows Jason is here.

"He wasn't when I sent you, I swear." Molly defends softly. It's not a lie, she just didn't mention when Jason happened to be moving towards the robbery. "He showed up but you were already on your way—"

"So you didn't tell me?!" You yell. "Seriously?"

Somewhere in the last month and a half, grief has metastasized into something resembling resentment. It's not him. You know that. But, seeing him just now brings back too many feelings you've yet to deal with properly, you're trying but you haven't gotten that far yet.

Grief bubbles back and transforms into something like resentment because you should be together. You should fucking happy and you aren't. You are, generally, but there is this void echoing in your chest. A burning pain right on your heart where his name was stitched. It sucks to be blind-sided into seeing him even if the resentment is towards yourself. You just would have liked some fucking warning about it.

You need to be prepared if you're going to see him and you aren't entirely sure you're ready. There's still a lot of shame even if missing him makes you feel like Atlas. Half the damn time it takes everything in you not to call him. Something will happen and he is still the first person you want to tell. But, you're not talking. Instead, you get updates about him through Molly and Gar and Tim. All of them have said he seems okay while sounding worried about him. It's hard not to worry about him. He's Jason. You think that's your only relief, knowing he's at least doing okay.

You just wish you had it in yourself to check in but he said space and you said space. You agreed and guilt and shame suck the very air out of your lungs to the point where you think this is your way of punishing yourself for everything you've done to him. Forcing yourself to not contact him first and check-in. You're punishing yourself but keeping to what you know and staying away from him. Maybe it was him who was always better off.

Molly sighs. "You have to talk to him eventually." Molly rolls her eyes on the other end and decides to drop it. She can hear the engine of the bike roaring louder than usual. This conversation is not one to have at the moment. "Mugging two blocks from you, take a right."

She is thankful the two of you have not put her in the middle. The most that happens is you both asking about each other. Other than that, you don't ask. You don't mention each other. It's as if you only know of each other through your mutual friends. Molly thinks that might actually be worse sometimes.

Jason gets back to his safe house and strips from the Red Hood gear. He heads right for the shower. Seeing you tonight, it feels like a lot. He never tried to kill you but somehow, you're the person he betrayed the most and dealing with that has been a lot harder than most of the rest of it. Your dedication and loyalty to him he thinks has made it so hard. To have someone so loyal and love him the way you did, sends his head fuzzy with regret knowing the pain he caused you.

At first, Jason thought it'd be a week or two. You'd both cave and talk again and then one thing would lead to another. Maybe it wouldn't be the healthiest way to deal with your shit, but you'd be together and you'd figure it out. But then a week or two turned into three and then four and then six. The more time that passes, the harder it gets to pick up the phone. Maybe that's why he asks Gar and Tim and Molly about you. They all say you're good but they're worried about you. They're always worried about you. But at least you've been good and Jason is grateful for that. He just wishes he had it in himself to suck it up and just call you. But, he doesn't so he showers away the thoughts of you and drowns himself in his guilt and regret.

By the time he's out of the shower, his phone is ringing and he's drying his hair with a towel, the white streak staring back at him in the mirror and he's still mad Dick didn't get the same thing he did.

"Yeah?" Jason answers the phone.

"I need your help." Dick states on the other end.

Jason pulls the phone from his head, looking at the caller ID before he puts the phone back to his ear. "With?"

"Training Tim." Dick states.

Jason almost laughs at the very statement. It's not that Dick is asking for help in the training department, he has before. That's fine. It's that Tim is supposed to be Robin out there and Jason knows they are actively fighting demons and zombies. Tim should absolutely be getting trained in between all of that.

"You haven't trained him yet?" Jason scoffs in surprise before he walks out of the en suite and into his bedroom.

"We've been busy." Dick scoffs back knowing damn well Jason knows what's been happening. Dick has mentioned it and Gar gives Dick updates about Jason meaning Gar talks to him plenty. "Between everything that's been going on since we got to Metropolis, we haven't had time."

Jason chuckles softly on the other end. "Yeah, uh, Gar was telling about me about the zombie shit. Fucking Deathstroke? Glad I wasn't there." Jason laughs softly and he can't see it but there might even be a faint smile on Dick's lips. He sounds good.

"Yeah," Dick huffs, running a hand through his hair. "You gonna be able to help?" Dick asks.

"Yeah, I owe you anyway." Jason agrees. "Not gonna go easy on him though. I'm gonna make sure he's ready when he comes back."

It doesn't take Jason long to have his decision. There's something...weird with someone replacing him in a way, as Robin. But, if someone is going to be Robin, they have to be prepared, more prepared than he was. Jason doesn't want someone else to end up like him and he knows Tim, kind of. He owes Dick for everything Jason has put him through and Jason did always like helping with the training. It's not a difficult decision.

"Good, that's what I expect." Dick nearly chuckles. "If he's going to be Robin, he needs a good teacher."

"Wouldn't go that far, man." Jason shakes his head, still getting used to Dick being nice.

"You trained y/n and look at what she can do. That is mostly on you. Do the same for Tim. I'll have him in Gotham tomorrow."

"You just gonna send him to me?" Jason's brows pull together as he puts a hand on his hip.

"No, I'm going to send him on a mission that is all just a ruse to get him there. You'll find him and go from there. Don't tell him." Dick explains simply as if Jason should have known Dick would have a...ruse?

"So, you're gonna send him here on a fake mission with no training as Robin?" Jason lets out a laugh. That's ridiculous and somehow Jason finds himself not entirely surprised. "Why not just fucking tell him, man?"

"I want to instill confidence in him." Dick states, almost defensively. He's trying his best and he also knows that Tim is very confident and maybe he needs to see he needs the help. "Should have done it with you guys. Not making the mistake again."

Jason clears his through. "Yeah, okay, deserved that." Jason shakes his head. "Alright, just let me know when he's on his way and where I need to be. I'll get him ready to actually be Robin."

"Thanks, Jason." Dick's voice is sincere.

"Yeah, don't mention it." Jason lets out a sigh before he hangs up.

He plops onto his bed, his eyes falling onto the helmet resting on the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Right after leaving the manor from talking to Bruce, this is not where he saw Red Hood being. Being a vigilante is now something Jason feels like he has to do, he likes it but he is trained to do it. He's trained to help people and if no one else is going to help them, Jason might as well. It's taken a little getting used to, rebranding Red Hood in a way. Red Hood is not a murderer. He kills really horrible people for the greater good. He targets people like Black Mask and Penguin by working his own circle to steal their business. He sabotages their work and steals their shipments. That part is always a bit fun. Red Hood patrols Crime Alley. He helps them. He is not a murderer.

He's still getting used to it but it's better than it was. Even if the blood on his hands burns from time to time.

This is kind of nice though, the ability to train Tim. He does miss that part a bit, training with someone. Training alone only does so much sometimes. Jason liked helping train the other younger Titans. It made him feel important and now he gets to train Tim. He'll never tell Dick, but it means a lot for him to ask for help here even if it's just because the Titans have been busy.

This is the last one for the night. You've been tracking this group of people who work for a pretty bad pimp in the city. You've gotten a couple of the women to turn and Barbara has put them into protective custody, immunity from any and all charges. It's not them they want anyway. It's the pimp and his right hand but when women stopped showing up, he got wind and went into hiding. So, did most of his men and women. Until tonight when Molly grabbed one of them on a camera in Gotham Heights. You wasted no time in trailing him.

The second this guy sees you, he takes off like a bat out of hell and the only thing you can do is roll your eyes and go after him. They always run. It's like they really think running is going to work for them. Between the cardio and the grappling hook and the bike, why do they think they'll actually get away? They always run.

The guy thinks he's smarter and quicker. Well, maybe he's quicker but he is not smarter. Molly is tracking him through every traffic camera he hits while you stay a good distance behind him until the opportunity comes for you to get onto a rooftop and continue the chase that way. He's heading somwhere, it won't be toward his boss. There's no way he's that stupid but he is heading into the perfect spot for you to grab him.

You turn off and then jump a few more buildings before ducking down into an alley. You walk to the very end and then wait a few seconds for the running footsteps to come closer. You grab a knife from your belt and then just as he goes to run past, you grab him, spinning him and pinning him against the alley wall.

You hold the knife to his neck and press it into his skin, not enough to cause serious damage, just enough to let him bleed. Blood gets people talking quicker and you're tired and hungry.

"Where is he?" You demand.

The man gulps and the blade presses into his neck further, his breathing heavy and shallow. "I don't know who you're—"

"Your boss. Yes, you do. You're all in hiding but you came out and for what? Where he is?" You question again, not in the mood to even let him think for a second he's smarter than you.

He looks at you with terror. Somehow, he wishes it were The Bat that grabbed him and yet he finds himself thankful it's not The Red Hood. The Bat won't kill him but Red Hood would make sure his death was painful if he really wanted to. You're not one to be messed with either. But his boss? That's just signing his death certificate.

You pull the knife away, kneeing him in the stomach before you land a punch to his face. You don't want to kill him. You read his record. Wrong crowd at sixteen. He was probably manipulated into this, too. He's a victim, too. But, he needs to give up his boss.

The man groans, sliding down the wall as he holds his jaw. "Fuck!"

"Tell me." You grit your teeth.

"He'll fucking kill me! I'd rather you just send me to Arkham or Blackgate! I'm not a fuckin' rat." The guy seethes but there's a quiver in his voice.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I'm aware he'll kill you."

"What the fu—"

"So tell me and give me a reason to make sure he doesn't." You offer. "You think I'm here to kill you? If I wanted you dead, I'd kill you myself. Tell me and we'll protect you." The offer is genuine even if it comes out snippy.

"I don't believe a damn thing you say." The man gives you a weak scoff and diverts his eyes to the street.

"That's a you problem then. I'm trying to help you while you help me." You offer. "It's a real offer."

"Immunity then." The man fires back without even thinking.

You scoff. Does he not realize that the whole vigilante thing is still a crime? You can't promise that. "No. And I don't have the ability to promise that anyway. Work out with the DA. I can get you into protective custody though if you give him up."

Barbara has you working this case involving some sort of ring with sex workers. It's definitely more than just some guy calling the shots and dividing up money. Missing women, bodies turning up, drugs, it all seems to lead back to him. Your argument was that half the people working under this guy are victims, too. Some of those people are given the opportunity to flip and if they do, they're given protection. Barbara said the DA isn't too happy about it and some of the civilians will probably be pissed but you don't care. Not all of them have to go down with the ship.

"Look, he's going to find out you were with me and he's going to think you flipped or you're thinking about it. You're a dead man the second you walk out of this alley if you don't help me and we both know it."

The man lets out a sigh. "Crime Alley." He finally caves. "I don't know exactly where. I heard there are only a few women who know and then his right hand, that's it."

You nod accepting the response. It's way better than nothing. "Thank you."

"You're really gonna help?"

"Yeah, of course." You get to your feet.

"Why?"

You shrug. "You're not the big problem here." You answer casually. "My advice though, take whatever punishment is dealt to you and serve it and then get out. There's a program. The commissioner will give you information about it if they decide to try you."

"Thank you." The guy nods.

"Mhm." You hum, pulling out your own zip ties before you zip tie his hands together but before you get Molly to call Barbara, Molly comes in through the comms.

"Hey, I've got Dick on the other line, you wanna take it?" Molly asks.

"Yeah, actually, I'm done here. Let the commissioner know he flipped and I got info on him so he's good." You answer.

"Got it." Molly answers before she patches Dick in.

"I need your help with something." Dick starts without wasting a single second.

Your brows pull together. "Uh, hello to you, too?" You question as you get back to your feet. "The fuck do you need my help with? I do not want to go to Metropolis." You let out a chuckle before you look out onto the street and then back back into the alley.

"Superman?!" The guy on the ground yells.

"No, Nightwing." You scoff. "Shut up. You're done talking."

"Are you on a job right now?" Dick almost yells and at this point, he expects nothing less.

"Oh, yeah, just wrapping up." Your voice is almost cheery on the other end.

"Okay..." Dick holds the bridge of his nose, not even wanting to unpack that. "I need you to help train Tim."

You cackle on the other end. "Okay, hold on, let me wrap this up. This shit needs my attention." You laugh looking back to the guy. "Alright they'll be here in a few to arrest you but I gotta head out so...sorry about this." You pull your fist back, punching the guy and knocking him unconscious. "Anyway," You start before you shoot your grappling hook at the roof and start your jumping and walking to your bike. "You need me to do what now?"

"I need you to help train Tim to be Robin." Dick repeats.

"Is that not your job?" You quip back with a laugh.

Dick sighs, seeing as he is clearly going to have the same conversation twice. "We've been busy."

"Yeah, Gar and Tim said something about Zombie Deathstroke. Sounds fucking insane. Glad I'm not there." You laugh before jumping onto a neighboring rooftop. "Wait, okay hold on." You shake your head. "You're gonna send Tim here?"

"Yes. On a fake mission to build confidence." Since he's already had this conversation, Dick knows exactly what to cut out and include in his response to get this conversation over quickly.

"Uh-huh." You nod, getting the feeling there's a bit more to this than Dick is leading on. "Right, yeah, got it. Fair enough, I guess. And why are you asking me?" You ask knowing Jason is right there in Gotham City as well.

"You're good at this, you're the newest member besides Conner but well..."

"Superboy." You finish. "Unfair fight."

"Exactly. You also have your combat clairvoyance. Jason always said you were a good sparring partner because you fit." Dick's voice is casual and simple, you know there's something he is not telling you. He's nicer than he was before. The stick is no longer up his ass, but he's being too nice.

"Yeah, he did." You roll your shoulders before jumping to the next rooftop. "And uh, why are you not asking Jason?" You ask before it goes completely silent. And you know immediately. "Oh, you did." You state.

"I did." Dick answers simply.

Of course, Dick asked Jason first. You aren't offended or hurt by it. Asking Jason to train Tim is smart. But, not immediately telling you means one of two things. Either Jason said yes and Dick is setting you both up which makes you want to jump off this rooftop or Jason said no and Dick just wasn't going to tell you. Unfortunately, you're betting on the first option just because you know Jason wouldn't send Tim to the wolves.

"And he said yes, didn't he?" Your voice is a little snippy this time.

"He did." Dick keeps his voice level, unsure if you're going to start yelling or not.

"Okay so you're asking me to help Jason train Tim but Jason doesn't know you're asking me and you weren't going to tell me but because I asked you were obligated not to lie to me in fear I'd be pissed off enough to walk out and so would Jason?"

"When you put it that way." Dick states. "Look, I know it's complicated right now." Dick tries to reason with you.

"We're not fucking talking, Dick like..." You let out a breath. "He probably doesn't want to see me, ya know?" You nearly whine at the thought because you really believe it.

You hurt him.

"I know but this is for Tim." Dick urges.

You might be giving Dick a hard time but you both know you'll agree. Not only is Dick asking for a favor but it's also Tim. You would never not help Tim especially with everything that's happened. You owe Dick and Tim for everything. But, that doesn't make the situation any easier for you.

"Jason is gonna be pissed if he finds out, ya know?" You ask.

"Yeah." Dick answers. "Tim will get the best training from the both of you though."

"Yeah." You roll your eyes. "Fine. Yeah, I'll help and I won't tell Jason. Just when and where?"

"Tomorrow, I'll text you the rest." Dick answers. "Thank you."

"Mhm." You hum.

Dick feels bad for you and Jason. You've both been through a lot individually and together. It's two of the things that brought you together in the first place. You two always seemed to make each other happy and you actually seemed really good for each other. Dick knows first hand it's not easy and it is always complicated. It's always going to be painful trying to work out the romance department while being a vigilante. It's why it didn't work with him and Barbara. It's why it didn't work with him and Dawn. It's not easy. But, he feels bad for you both. It feels like you weren't given a chance.

"Talk to him." Dick states carefully.

You groan as you look to the sky. "You're not giving me a fucking choice are you, Dickolas?"

"You know what I mean." Dick says right back.

While you appreciate the sentiment, you are not taking dating advice from Dick Grayson. As far as you know, Dick's been in love with Kory for almost a year, at least and he has not said a single word to her about it. At least you told Jason. The way you see it, Dick should be taking dating advice from you.

"You tell Kory how you feel about her and I'll have a conversation with Jason." You offer in a higher-pitched voice, offering a bit of bite in your words.

"Okay no—"

"Yes." You quip back. "Don't give me advice if you're not going to take the same advice." You jump to the last rooftop. "She feels the same way anyway." You mutter softly.

"Alright, thank you." Dick cuts you off. "Talk to him. Tim won't know you're helping him."

"Gathered. Just let me know. I know to keep my mouth shut. I got it." You assure him.

"Thank you."

"You owe me." You laugh softly on the other end before ending the call.

After the run-in earlier tonight, you weren't sure when you'd want to see Jason again. At first, you thought about it all the time. Maybe you'd run into each other just as you did earlier and he'd make some quip about you being in his territory and you'd make fun of him for needing your help. Something would click and you'd be back to normal and it would feel good. The void in your chest will fill again and it would be normal. But that's not what happened because more time passed and you think about how maybe he's mad at you. He should be mad at you still. The more time that passed, the more you convinced yourself it was what you deserved. So, you keep your distance on purpose from him. Maybe that's your penance.

But now, you have to face him.

So, you head back to the apartment to mentally prepare. Jason Todd is still the Jason you always loved and you have to act like you're fine. You have to act like it is not eating you away inside to think about him. Everything has been going okay and you're finding yourself in this city. You think your feet are starting to land on solid ground for once. But, the thought of seeing Jason makes you feel like the earth is being pulled from under your feet. It's the one thing you have deliberately not dealt with. So, you know you have to act like it's all normal. If you're going to be able to do this with him, it has to feel normal. You have to feel normal otherwise it'll be sad and awkward and painful. Maybe he won't want your help anyway.

In no way did you expect your first time speaking to Jason again would be because Dick asked for help. But, it looks like that's exactly what's going to happen. And maybe your bones are starting to vibrate with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You might feel guilty and you might be worried but you miss seeing him. You miss the way his voice sounds. You miss him more than words could ever describe.

Maybe you hope he misses you, too even if you don't deserve it.

Maybe as the night goes on and you get ready for bed and tell Molly about it, maybe you can't wait to see him.

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[sunnified]

AND I'LL BREAK FOR YOU, BABY.

synopsis. teetering on the line between "friends" and "more", you're content with the small moments.

pairing. pdh!gene x gn!reader

content. fluff, pre-established relationship, mentions of an (unlit) cigarette, skipping school (?), a few pet names from gene's side, teasing.

word count. 0.9k

a/n. woo june first, which means pride month!! happy pride month, everyone!! this lil piece is for this requester <3

“we really need to stop meeting like this.”

from where he stands under a nearby tree, an unlit cigarette slotted between his lips, gene smirks at your approaching figure. his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his rolled-up school blazer, back resting against scratchy bark, and you know he’s purposefully stood himself like that to look cool.

“thought you liked meeting me out here, doll.” he replies, pushing off of the tree and taking long strides towards you.

your shoulders lift in a careless shrug, and your gaze fleetingly looks back at the double doors of the school, “i almost got caught trying to meet you here—” your confession is followed by a curious raise of his brow, prompting you to elaborate, “—by that sophomore girl, what was her name again. . . tony?”

gene barks out a laugh, slipping the cigarette from his mouth and into the back pocket of his uniform pants; he’s already tugging you along before you can question why that was funny.

instead, as the two of you begin the walk away from school, your attention drifts to the lack of posse following gene around, “no sasha or zenix today?”

“nah.” he doesn’t explain why, until your elbow pokes the side of his stomach. gene rolls his eyes, taking on a bored tone, “sasha stayed home today and zenix has detention.”

soles move upon solid ground, hitting the concrete pavement. it’s weird, and your mouth echoes your thoughts, “a detention has never stopped zenix from skipping before, though?”

at that, gene groans loudly and his arm is thrown over your shoulders like deadweight, “you’re killin’ me here.” he sighs exasperately, “it’s like you don’t want to spend time alone with me.”

“hey! that’s not what i—“

“seriously,” there’s that faux pout, the one that looks so out of place against gene’s usually menacing features — the one he loves to use against you, if nothing but to get a reaction from you, “you sayin’ you like sasha and zenix more than me?”

your feet kick the pavement, stray rocks tumbling into the gutter, and your arms fold across your chest. gene is peering at you, bright eyes examining your face as though it was his last chance to do so. it’s embarrassing, and it causes heat to rise to your cheeks.

“shut up.” the palm of your hand meets his cheek, pushing his head away and stopping the dark haired boy’s analystic gaze.

he laughs like a hyena, but you don’t seem to mind. this scene, despite how you’re both skipping fourth period biology, is oddly domestic. it’s becoming more frequent that the pair of you end up hanging out alone, and you can’t decide if it’s because of graduation looming in the distant future or something more.

his arm has settled comfortably across your shoulders, and you wonder if it’s intentional how gene keeps you pressed close to his side.

the gas station comes into view, “you think we’ve reached ‘regulars’ status yet?” you hum thoughtfully, to break the comfortable silence that had settled between the pair of you.

“maybe.” there’s a little bit of thinking done on his end before he answers you confidently, “guess we’ll just have to keep buying slushies from here, huh?”

the breeze is light as you step into the park, a blue slush in hand, and gene by your side sipping on his own, red, slush. as usual, the pair of you take a breezy stroll to your favourite spot in the gated area. there’s not many people mulling about, aside from those who found time between their schedules, and you take note of the lack of noise.

gene’s hand slips into yours, fingers interlacing, and he’s leading you in the direction of the riverbank. your steps fall into tandem with his, neither of you talking, neither of you mentioning that you’re holding hands. there’s an unspoken mutual understanding, that when later comes, you won’t talk about this.

that’s how it always is.

you find sanctuary at your designated hang-out spot, and it’s your turn to settle against a tree. your back hits the jagged bark, but you don’t care, enjoying the beverage in your hand. gene puts his mostly empty slush beside your outstretched legs, ducking under the bridge for a moment before reappearing with a spray can you know he got from a stored away backpack.

“up for a bit of painting?” he asks, tilting his head. his dark hair falls over his eyes, and your resist laughing at how he’s quick to push it back into place.

in response, you shake your head. at his disappointment, you offer, “maybe later?” to drive the point to home, you rattle the icy drink in your hand, “but have fun with that.”

he hums, uncapping the can of paint and experimentally spraying it against the linen stone. there’s traces of a past tagging on the light colour, and you’re reminded of earlier in the year when your friends had attempted to recruit a jittery freshman.

that thought is quick to dissipate from your mind when gene begins his artwork. he uses practiced movements, tracing the familiar logo as though it’s mere muscle memory. it’s silly, how such a simple sketch created during the middle of a particularly boring math lesson could lead to this. it’s on every surface you, gene, sasha, and zenix can find — all over the places the four of you enjoy visiting the most.

as he rounds off the tag with a flick of the ‘k’ for shadow knights, you find yourself staring up at the tree you’re resting against. it’s true, the shadow knights label is defaced on every other wall the four of you can find. in fact, it’s rare that you don’t see the tag when on an outing.

it’s a common occurrence.

your initials paired with gene’s carved into this tree feels a lot more secretive.

[aurasplanet]

SAFETY

warnings :: nothing, besides my terrible endings and a mention of reader having bangs

ron anderson x reader

aaron found you three months ago. hiding in a run-down house near the walls of alexandria. far enough to not notice the place, or maybe you didn’t want to. maybe you didn’t want to go to the safe-seeming community awaiting you mere yards away.

you were frail, dirty, stricken with fear in constant survival mode. when you were brought back, ron thought you were like a cat. they can lash out when frightened, or close off. you do both.

your added adorableness only proved this theory.

you fascinated him. any time he would try and reach out, be friendly; he’d get shut down. but the lack of cruelness in your voice and abundance of fright left him undiscouraged.

he would use his mom to his advantage. she was sweet to everyone, and while you didn’t become buddy buddy with her, you tolerated her enough to cut your severely grown out bangs. this meant you had to sit in the anderson’s kitchen while she worked. right next to the island where ron sat, talking your ear off.

you would huff and give clear signs of disinterest, merely there for a trim. but he wouldn’t let up. and eventually his annoying, broken record voice turned melodic. when you started realizing how hard he had been trying, it made you feel odd.

no one had cared for you since your mother died, your father long gone before the apocalypse ever even broke out. ron’s restless attempts at befriending you made your socially unaware brain go haywire.

so, you did the logical thing any emotionally stunted teen girl with a tiny crush would do. cut random chunks of hair off to have the excuse of going back to their house as much as you could.

it took the fourth time before ron’s twenty questions paused, and then he was looking over you quizzically. you side glance at him, not wanting to butcher your hair further. you catch a glimpse of his smile and feel your cheeks heat up.

“i’m just saying…” he taps his fingers against the countertop as he speaks. “you don’t have to get a haircut to come here.” your brows furrow in confusion, honestly you hadn’t a clue on how to go about seeing ron often. you just knew that your hair getting cut was a way.

ron watches you sit in silence for a few minutes before the towel over your shoulders is lifted. with a sweet smile jessie tells you she’s done, but you remain sat in the chair.

he notices your lack of comprehension and comes over to stand in front of you, holding his hand out for you to grab. “we can go play video games, i have comics, or we could talk more. whatever you want.” he smiles softly, and you feel your face becoming hotter. at the kind gesture, and the fact he still wants to talk. despite the lack of response on your part.

you nod and grab his hand, muttering a tiny thank you towards his mom. oh how you loathe seeming like some dumb kid who can’t handle herself, what wonders trauma can do. but you could get used to ron’s gentle behavior.

[simcardiac-arrested]

everyday i wake up and it’s 2021

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[aidyhdee]

artfight revenge on @iconsumethesoulsofthedamned

[too-deviant]

strategic manoeuvre.

— WITH…ART DONALDSON!

contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios

You had never been interested in tennis before Art. 

You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else. 

But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway. 

You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire. 

Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis. 

It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks. 

You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa. 

“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for. 

Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning. 

(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).

It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits. 

“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”

We she’d said. As in her and Art. 

You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel. 

From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation. 

The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in. 

It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out. 

You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready. 

You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together. 

He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her. 

But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left. 

But.

But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back. 

You were evil. Truly. The guy was married. 

But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave. 

The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.

(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).

But tonight was different. In more ways than one. 

In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned. 

You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night. 

Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”

He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”

“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble. 

He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”

You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”

“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.” 

Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.  

The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out. 

Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing. 

“Lily likes you.”

You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.” 

“Tashi likes you.” 

You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths. 

“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”

“What?”

“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?” 

“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.” 

“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.” 

“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.” 

He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it. 

The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car. 

But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal. 

“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”

Out of all the things… 

“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards. 

“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”

“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now. 

He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face. 

“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”

“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth. 

He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you. 

You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes. 

“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning. 

Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”

He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far. 

You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own. 

His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair. 

When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches. 

You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it. 

Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared. 

You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up. 

Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours. 

“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.” 

(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).

divider by @cafekitsune !!

[loveluvrs]

the slip up l lando norris x reader

request/summary – lando and reader are in a secret established relationship, until lando accidentally slips up on stream

author's notes – first piece of writing, feedback appreciated!!! this is just my thoughts written down honestly, i didn’t have much idea where i was going with it so enjoy.

Max was streaming with Lando at his place. Lando drags his feet over to the stream room, sitting on a chair next to Max. He was scrolling on his phone, trying to pass the time. 

“Mate, I’m gonna leave, you’re being so boring,” Lando joked under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’ll make things more interesting then. Chat, wanna know something really interesting about Lando?” Max asked with a mischievous smile as he looked back at Lando. Lando watched with suspicion of what max could say next. 

“Lando’s got a secret girlfriend,” Max sings to annoy Lando. Lando’s eyes shot up, his heart pounding as he turned off his phone, the same phone he was using to text you, his girlfriend. “I don’t, chat, don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to piss me off,” Lando says as he shoots Max a glare. 

—————

A few months later, everyone has chalked up that interaction to Max simply trying to annoy and rile up Lando, and no one thought much of it. On a miracle of a night in spring, Lando was in Monaco and decided to stream. He had a hoodie on, his hair all messy, but a smile on his face. About an hour into the stream, I knock on the door of his stream room quietly. Lando immediately turned off his video and mic, telling chat to give him a minute. 

I walk in, a black slip dress on with a cropped white cardigan, my hair and makeup done all fancy. “Hi, baby,” Lando says as he pulls me in by the waist, onto his lap. “Girls night tonight, right?” He says with a soft smile. He always makes sure to pay attention to anything I’ve mentioned to him, including my plans to hang out with Lily and Carmen tonight, Alex and George’s girlfriends. 

I hum in response. “Yeah, we’re gonna get dinner and then take some Instagram photos,” I say as I stand up from his lap, “you like the dress? It’s new.” I give him a little twirl to show off the dress. 

Lando smiles brightly. “I love it, baby, you look gorgeous. Like always,” he says as he leans in for a kiss. “Text me when you’re done and need me to pick you up, yeah?” I nod and smile. 

Once I leave, Lando puts his headset back on, turning his mic and camera back on. He scrunches up his face as he’s met by shouting from Max into his headset. “What’s your problem, man?” Lando asks with confusion. Max sighs. “Lando, you had your mic on the whole time. People heard that whole conversation and I was trying to tell you but as always, you ignored me,” Max says with some frustration in his voice, but mostly amusement. 

“Oh,” Lando says as he realizes what has happened. Not knowing what to do, Lando panics and ends stream. 

When my friends and I reach the restaurant, we find it pouring rain, which was the most of our worries since the restaurant was outdoor. With frowns, we all pile back into the car and drive ourselves home. I arrive home only twenty minutes after I left, my dress soaked. My brows furrow in confusion to see Lando on the couch on his phone when i come back, and not on stream. 

I slip off my shoes. “I thought you were streaming?” I ask softly as I make my way over to him. “What happened to you? You’re all soaked! Here, let me get you a towel and you can get dressed into some of my hoodie and sweats to get comfy,” Lando says, trying to avoid the fact that he had just live streamed his whole conversation with his girlfriend. 

I saw the panic in Lando’s eyes. “Stop,” I say as I stood in front of him, “what did you do?” Lando shoots me a bright grin. “I love you, babe. So so much. And you know I’d do anything for you.” This made me even more suspicious. “Lan,” I say as my eyes narrowed.

“Okay, okay. I might have forgotten to mute my mic when we were talking right before you left. I swear I thought I had turned it off!” He says as he panics before beginning to ramble. “And I called you baby, and gorgeous, and your voice was heard too. And Max was telling me the whole time through my headset, but it was off and even if it were on, you know I don’t think about anything else when I’m with you. And there were thousands of people on the stream and you specifically told me you wanted to keep it private because you didn’t want to get hate crimed by the fans and you wouldn’t be able to handle it and I mean, I wanted to but it just slipped and im so so sorry but-“ He stops in confusion when a giggle escapes my lips. “Why aren’t you upset?” He asks slowly.

I smile as I slip my arms around his neck, his hands instinctively wrapping around my waist. “Well. Number one, you’re cute when you panic. Number two, no one saw me, so it’s okay. I mean, considering how in love you are with me, they were bound to find out at some point that you had a girlfriend,” I tease with a smile tugging at my lips. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully at me. “Okay, yeah. I am absolutely in love with you. Still, you’re not bothered by this?” he asks slowly, hesitation lacing his voice.

“I promise I’m not. It was a mistake. Plus, that just means it’s gonna be all the more fun trying to watch them figure out who it is you’re dating,” I say playfully with a giggle. 

“That’s true,” Lando says softly with a hum, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Although, don’t make me have to have you on adult supervision every time you stream now to make sure nothing else slips out of your mouth,” I tease as I playfully poke his side. 

“Ah! Okay okay, promise,” he says with a giggle as he leans in for a gentle and loving kiss.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Ghost, Simon & You [SMUT]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Stomach Bulging, Possessive! Ghost, Kinda Evil! Ghost, Simon and Ghost are Separate People in the Same Body, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Backed up! Simon who uses you as his personal cum dump whenever he returns from deployment. You know you’re in for an absolute pounding when you hear him banging on your front door, only to see him standing there, tall and dark as a shadow, looking down at you with an almost manic gaze.

He hasn't even been home to change first, still clad in his balaclava, eye paint and the under-layers of his tactical attire. He pushes his way in, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot and pressing his lips to yours. It doesn’t matter that you can’t feel his skin, that he’s almost crushing your skull as he grips your cheeks and brings you as close as physically possible, that you can taste gunpowder, dust and death on his mask. That this isn’t Simon at all, but the unholy spirit that possesses him. 

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.

It also doesn’t matter that he literally tears your shirt from your body, a rumble reverberating through his chest when he sees you without underwear. You were expecting him. Good.

Simon – Ghost – is never gentle when it comes to the first round. He never strips all the way down, either, always leaving his mask on, too. He just yanks his pants down as far as necessary before pressing the hard, aching, weeping tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in with neither care, nor restraint.

He sees the way you fist the sheets, face down against the mattress but your cries still managing to reach him. He just doesn’t care. Especially when your familiar warmth encompasses him, pulls him into the here and now.

It’s at this point that Ghost sees why Simon loves being around you so much, loves being with you. In you.

His member protrudes, a bump in your stomach evident like a tombstone. Whenever you try to press it, try to flatten your hand against it to get a feel for just how big it is, he takes your wrists in his hands and presses them against the mattress. The message is clear: you don’t interfere. I’ll cum when I say so, not by your hand.

Ghost doesn’t stop until you’re raw and red and leaking with either his or your juices, a ring of white forming at the base of his shaft where you can’t fit any more of his length inside you. You feel it, pulsating and battering and alive in your middle, feeling as if it’s nudging everything else out the way so it can lie uninhibited inside your warm cavern.

He’s hard and fast, rough yet thorough. He never leaves an inch of you unmarked, unbruised, by the time he’s done. Whether he’s aware or not, you always end up finishing first, your walls tightening and pulsating around Ghost’s cock as he continues to abuse your hole, hitting your most sensitive point over and over again, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you utterly spent yet satisfied.

When Ghost cums, it’s long, hard and hot. So, so hot – as if the all fire of his anger he’s had building up these last few months is now cradled within you, an unspeakable offspring. He never immediately pulls out. No, he waits, hands about your waist, no doubt bruises from where he’s gripped you, where he’s kept you so he can make sure you don’t crawl away.

His load is thick and there’s so much of it – you feel like you’re being filled past full.

If you’re capable and fertile, he often considers not giving you birth control after the fact, rather letting you stay dormant in bed and tying you up so you have no choice but to let his seed take. The idea never fails to send a shiver down his spine, making him hard all over again as the image of you, bedbound and incapacitated by his hand is enough to make him retreat to another room just so he doesn’t act on the fantasy. 

The look on Simon’s face, he often wonders, when he finds you’re marked as Ghost’s, carrying a permanent reminder that he got to you first; when he realises that the creature he entrusts his dirty work to, his militant alter ego, has utterly ravaged and claimed you from the inside out.

The horror. The futility of apology. It’s enough to satiate Ghost for now. Enough, enough.

And with that, he pulls out, taking the blazing heat of his body with him. He leaves you on the bed, ass up, face down, with his cum dripping out of you. Leaves you for Simon to clean up, to deal with. 

And to your side does Simon come rushing, for once Ghost removes his mask, so does he the haze he casts over his unwilling creator, letting him return to humanity. The vague pulsing of his member, the wetness coating it and the sheen of sweat clinging to Simon’s body is enough to let him know – remind him – what’s happened.

He comes to your aid, scooping you up in his arms and tending to you in every way he knows how - in every way that’s routine. He apologises, over and over, for letting Ghost do this you, for letting him have his way with you, for not being able to protect you–

You shush him. Look at him with kind eyes. You tell him you’re happy to do it, that you’d rather it be you than anyone else, that you wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t love Simon. Which you do. Monumentally. And Simon loves you, too. He just fears that Ghost may be growing to love you, too – in ways he shouldn’t. 

He feels him now, watching you bathe, sweeping over the bruises on your wrists, your hips and waist, the pressure in the back of his head mounting as Ghost lusts for the control to do it all again.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

[sooniebby]

First Drabble after a month or so… Anyway, reader is a bisexual man, deal with it. Kinks are: voyeurism, spanking, dubcon, cucking, manhandling, praise, lite feminization. Brief mention of m/f sex but reader is a bottom and is mentioned to have a cock. BDSM relationship. Tw. Girlfriend is a bit abusive so skip this if bad doms bother you 🫶🏼 no set character, but I gave him a name! A little long tbh, not even a Drabble anymore

The things you do to make your girlfriend.

“Ohhh! Gimme more, Mark.”

You roll your eyes, checking your phone as your girlfriend gets her pussy fucked by your “friend” Mark. They were too busy having the time of their life to notice you stopped paying attention to them.

Your girlfriend, Lizzy, just loved this whole cuck fantasy shit. Whatever made her happy. You tried many other times to tell you that you didn’t necessarily like it but she always somehow made you the bad guy.

It was your first relationship dealing with BDSM, she was more than likely right since she had loads of relationships before you.

Right? She wouldn’t use your naivety to her advantage… right?

Hah.

Anyway, she loved making you watch other guys fuck her. Especially if their dick was bigger than yours. Though you didn’t like her saying your four inches was small.

Some guys had two inches, you were perfectly fine.

She began moaning something about how big he was, you didn’t really care at this point. You didn’t even know if you liked this whole BDSM thing. Sure, being the submissive was cool at first but now it just felt… eh?

You certainly hated her way of being a sadist. You hated being a masochist. It wasn’t fun.

But, whatever makes her happy. She’s freaking Lizzy Powers, the hot girl from your university. Every guys falls for her.

There was particularly high pitched yelp that caused you to look up in concern but it seemed Mark had just manhandled her into another position. You huffed and just went back to watching TikTok thirst traps.

The few times you looked at them to pretend you actually cared, Mark seemed set at staring right at you. His thrusts would always get faster each time. Weirdo.

Mark was popular, just like Lizzy. Loved by many girls (and guys). He was supposedly good natured and kinda but you kinda found him creepy, especially right now.

Was there something on your face???

“Ooh, (Name)~!” Lizzy whined, “he’s so much better than you… Just look at how well he fucks my pussy.”

She looked over at you—you quickly forced a frown. She loved seeing you “upset” about the other guy fucking her. Something about getting you to try harder when you fucked her the next day.

It worked the first time, but after that, you stopped caring. You kinda stopped caring to fuck her as well. It wasn’t even that she was fucking all these other guys. Something just kept bothering you.

Maybe the fact she didn’t go on regular dates with you and there didn’t seem to be an end to the dominate actions she had.

A shrill voice filled the room, Lizzy was cumming. You used to always love seeing this part—just seeing your gorgeous girl coming undone.

Eh, you’ve seen it before. These days, you found yourself watching the guy fucking her instead of her. Which was bad, that was cheating, or at least that’s what Lizzy had told you.

So you made sure to not look at Mark as much. Mark pulled out and rolled off his condom, tossing it into the trash bin next to the bed. The loud sound of music was still ringing downstairs from the party.

You would’ve thought this dumb party would’ve been done by now. “Was that it?” You asked, standing up. “I have a test tomorrow so I need to get back to my dorm.”

There was a moment of silence as Lizzy and Mark stared at you. Mark simply nodded and moved to put his jacket and shoes back on. Lizzy however, looked furious. She stood up abruptly, putting on her dress and stormed over to you.

Oh no.

You knew that look. She was about to “discipline”you. Her punishments were so humiliating—you hated it so much. 

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Her anger radiated off her face. Though she only stood to your chest, she managed to make your heart drop. There was no fun in this. But isn’t this what these relationships involve?

This was just how it was.

Her harsh words began spilling out, probably promising a punishment once you reached your dorm. Or possibly even when Mark left. But knowing her, she’d get a kick out of him watching.

Maybe you should’ve gotten a different girlfriend. This one doesn’t exactly make you happy. The thought couldn’t go any further though when Mark cleared his throat, ending Lizzy’s tyranny with ease.

“Your submissive isn’t exactly listening to you. I don’t mean to pry,” though the smirk on his lips tells you otherwise. “He looks legitimately scared. No sense of pleasure in him.”

Lizzy scoffed. “And you can do better? He’s just new to this, but it seems to be taking forever for him to listen to me.” She said, harshly poking at your chest with her finger. You try not to show any emotion from the slight pain.

“I can. But that’s if you want your submissive to get a taste of what’s better.”

A pin could be dropped and it would’ve made more noise. You watch in awe as Lizzy practically turned pink in the face. Wow, you’d never seen her this anger. There was silent rage in her eyes before she pulled a quick smile.

“Sure. He’s all yours.”

But Mark looked over at you. He stood up and took off his jacket, walking over to you with a look of determination. “Do you want it?”

“W..wha..?” You whispered, feeling dwarfed against his tall height. Jesus, does he play volleyball or basketball??

“Do you…” his hand slowly reached up, gently grabbing your chin before forcing you to look up at him. Oh. “…want me to touch you? Show you real pleasure.”

“….yes…”

His lips pulled into a slight smirk. “Good boy.”

So here you are, pants less. Mark was kinda enough to let you keep your sweater on. Lizzy was sitting at the desk chair you once were. You felt bad for whoever’s frat brother’s room you guys were in. Poor guy.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Mark suddenly said, sitting on the bed as he patted his lap.

You huffed and moved over to where he was. “Attitude probably.” You muttered, looking down at the bed sheets. Ooh, sport cars.

A tug at your sweater caused you to yelp as you were forced to look Mark in the eye. “Look me in the eye when you’re speaking to me.” With little force, he pulled you to drape over his thighs. They were quite muscular. Hm, maybe soccer?

You could feel Lizzy’s harsh glare on your body. It was just reminding you that she was so pissed over you having a slight attitude. Gosh, we doms all like this? You were seriously considering if you wanted to stay in this type of relationship.

Mark’s hand gently gripped your butt, softly massaging it. “I don’t think you deserve a punishment, but I’m going off what your dom wants. This can be really easy, (Name). Just count, okay? I’ll only go to ten.”

“Just ten?” Lizzy cut in.

“Ten is enough. He didn’t do anything terrible.” Mark countered. “Was I even speaking to you?”

You didn’t want to know the look Lizzy gave him. His hand gripped your ass before he released it, gently tapping it.

“(Name), what’s your safe word?”

You blinked, “what’s that?”

There was a tense silence. You tried to look up but Mark quickly pushed your head back down.

“Just whenever you want to stop. In case it’s too much.”

“Oh uhm. Stop should work fine, no?”

“Alright. You can always say red as well. Yellow would be if you just want a breather, okay?”

“Oh… would green be for keep going?”

Mark hummed, gently massaging your butt. “Mhm. Aren’t you smart?”

You blushed slightly. Oh, that was nice. When was the last time Lizzy complimented you?

“Starting now.”

You prepared for the worst. Whenever Lizzy spanked you, it was torture. Just hit after hit with no room to breathe. Didn’t help she would use those whips. It took you awhile to convince her to just use her hand.

Sometimes the damn thing would just start hitting your thighs or back. It was like she was purposefully missing your ass.

Smack!

Oh. What were you supposed to do? You could’ve sworn you were supposed to say something. That felt so weird, but you felt your toes practically curl as a gasp left your lips. He must’ve had experience doing this…

He gently rubbed the slight curve of your hip. “C’mon, count for me.”

Oh right. Counting…

“O..One.”

It went on, each time you momentarily went blank in the head. This wasn’t anything like Lizzy’s spankings. Mark was spanking you hard, definitely, but there still was a slight softness to it.

Hmm, you could probably revisit spanking.

“Ten…” You muttered, sighing in slight relief that it was over. You gently got up from Mark’s lap, ready to pull your pants back up but he pulled your back down.

“What are you doing?” He asked, rubbing your sore cheeks. You heard the sound of a container being opened before a cooling substance was rubbing onto your skin. It was pure relief. A relaxed hum left your throat.

Lizzy coughed, breaking the moment. You almost forgot she was there. “Are you done with my boyfriend?”

“Hm, no. His moans were cute, I want to hear how he sounds cumming on my cock.” He said bluntly, causing you to blush in pure embarrassment. His cock?! He was going to fuck you?!

Lizzy sputtered as she stood up. “What?! That’ll be cheating!”

“It’s just cucking. A man can cuck a woman.”

“But—”

“—It’s only fair (Name) can cuck you too.”

It was wrong. But his words made you grin. Cucking her back? Oh that sounded fun. Finally, she could feel how you felt.

“Okay.” You suddenly said, removing yourself off Mark’s lap. “You can fuck me.” You weren’t scared about anything going into your butt. Lizzy has fucked you with a strap before, those were the few times you had the most fun during sex with her.

Shame she never wanted to do after the two times.

You grabbed the lube that was left on the nightstand from Lizzy and Mark’s previous fuck and drizzled a decent amount onto your fingers. Sitting down on the bed, you began to stretch your ass open.

It was pretty easy, you did masturbate this morning with a dildo. The entire time, Mark just stared at you with hunger, his eyes watching your hole swallow your fingers with ease. He was probably expecting some type of resistance.

“I’m ready.” You muttered, moving to get into a doggy position but Mark grabbed your hand. A shriek left you as he picked you up with ease and plopped you down into his lap.

This position… was embarrassing to say the least. Your legs were wide open, your cock hard against your tummy. Lizzy was literally right across from you, seeing everything. You squirmed, wondering why Mark was so set in humiliating you.

His lips suddenly pressed against your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder. The sound of his zipper and slight shuffling filled your ears as his cock slipped out. Holy shit. He was definitely huge… maybe 7 inches??

“I want…” his hand reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look Lizzy straight in the eye. “Miss Powers here to see you cum on my cock, seeing you become my pretty little slut.”

Your cock twitched. His cock pressed against your ass, gently teasing your hole. Slowly, he lowered you down, letting the stretch become comfortable.

He was definitely huge. You didn’t understand how Lizzy took this thing without crying out in pain? Once he was fully in, you let out a shaky breath, gripping his hand that held your hip.

“Good boy. You’re taking me well.” He whispered, pressing a kiss on your neck. “Now move.”

“What?”

“Ride me.” Mark simply said, gently patting your thighs.

Holy fucking shit. You were supposed to ride this guy while your girlfriend watches? Jesus. You moved slightly, gripping his thighs as a way to hold yourself help as you began bouncing up and down.

The sounds of skin slapping filled the room, your soft moans right behind it. This was better than any strap. You could feel him inside you—his heat. A shudder left you when his cock pressed against your prostate. You quickly tried to keep that position, gasping at the constant pressure.

You practically forgot Lizzy was even there. All you cared about was getting off.

No, all you cared about was making sure Mark was enjoying it.

That was a first.

You glanced down, wanting to see if Mark was enjoying himself. The sight caused your hips to stutter. He was staring right at you, a smirk on his face. His free hand was gripping at your ass, pulling the cheeks apart slightly.

He broke eye contact to look down at your hole, laughing slightly. “It’s so cute. Hey, I’m your first real one huh?”

“Y..Yeah..”

“Good. I’ll be your only too.” He said, delivering a harsh spank on your ass. A scream escaped your lips as you stopped for a moment, trying to process everything that was happening.

First and only? What?!

“Hey, why’d you stop?” His hands suddenly had your waist in its grasp as he pulled you back. You were once again looking at Lizzy, seeing her pure anger. Gosh, you were really betraying your girlfriend.

“Why are you treating him so gently?” Lizzy suddenly commented.

Mark hummed. “It’s his first time. You always gotta treat beginners like glass. Once he’s properly trained… I’ll fuck him like the whore he is.”

“Whore..?” You muttered, but before you could ask why he kept calling you stuff like that, he was suddenly making you bounce up and down on his cock. It was so sudden, so fast and made your previous movement seem like nothing.

If this is him treating you like glass, you wondered just how mean he got…

Your back arched as you cried out, resting your head on his back as the pleasure began to take over. It was so much. But you wanted more. You just knew he could do more.

You wanted it so bad.

You were too lost in the pleasure to even notice that Lizzy left until the sound of a door slamming caught your attention. “Hng…? Why’d she..?”

“Fucking finally.” Mark muttered, pulling you off his cock. You whimpered, feeling your cock leak dejectedly with pre-cum. He plopped you down on the bed and pushed your legs up, putting you in a mating press.

His cock easily slid back inside as he leaned down, grinning. “Now that she’s out of the way, I have you all to myself.” He whispered, his hips moving upwards in harsh staccato type motion. Each slap caused a struggled gasp to leave you in tandem.

“Been hearing all about how you were just her little cuck. Using you because you knew nothing about how these type of relationships work..” he mumbled, a groan leaving his lips when you clenched around his cock.

You couldn’t even care about what he was talking about. You just wanted to cum already. This position was so odd, you didn’t even know your body could fold this far.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, baby. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself as mine.”

“Y..yours..? What..? Ngh, did you..”

“Fuck her to get to you?” He laughed, leaning down to kiss your lips. You blushed, shocked that the kiss was so sweet compared to the sinful thrusting. “Yeah, anything for you.”

Anything for you…? You didn’t get to truly understand just how deranged that sounded when he began to roughly fuck you. He managed to push your legs even further as he draped himself over your body, ravaging you like a cheap slut.

Your screams and his grunts mixed together as you gripped at the sheets beneath you for type of stability. If that stupid loud music from downstairs wasn’t still playing you were sure everyone would be able to tell you were getting your stomach rearranged.

“(Name)…”

You let out a strangled hum.

“Your pussy is tighter than hers.”

Yaaaay… first post back! Feel really proud of this one, though I didn’t mean to make it longer than a usual Drabble, felt like I had to add a lot of stuff before the porn… lmao.

@the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life25 @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @star-3214 @smellwell @ofclyde @flurrina @tehyunnie @remdayz @love-kha1 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Part I

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

''So you're just goin' to sit there and tell me that isn't my daughter.'' Simon says bluntly, tone even yet carrying a snark hidden that you came to listen so many times after working with him— never once directed at you until now.

''It's really none of your business, Ghost.'' You don't even spare a glance at him, simply looking at your little girl, fingers gently running through her short hair. She looks exactly like Simon, though that will never take away your love for her.

''You're not denyin' it.'' He hesitantly sits down next to you, secretly afraid you'll bite his head off. The glare you shoot his way is enough confirmation that you would if you could. You sigh softly, the air leaving your lungs before being sucked back in, not wanting to argue in front of your little girl despite her not understanding words yet.

''Well, what's it to you? Why do you need to know?'' I can't handle you leaving me again.

''Don't be like that.'' His tone is soft, almost pleading. It has been over a year since he broke up with you, yet that doesn't make the loss any easier, not now that he knows he has a daughter, no matter how much you tried to hide it from him.

''Why didn't you tell me?'' He asks gently, feeling like he's walking on eggshells. It's the first time ever he feels that way with you, and he doesn't blame you in the slightest. It takes a few seconds of you thinking before you answer.

''I was terrified of you choosing to walk away from her... to be a deadbeat. I didn't want to have that image of you, because that would have hurt more than the break up.'' Your voice is more calm, though for all the wrong reasons. The familiar tingling all over your nose is back, eyes stinging as you try to hold back tears, too prideful to cry in front of him again.

''That's what you think o' me?'' He replies in nothing but pure disbelief and slight disgust. He would never walk away from his child, no matter how much that would destroy all the walls he has been building for years, stones upon stones carefully piled on top of each other, so strong nothing could ever break through— until you came along.

''I was fucking scared, okay?'' You look away and wipe your eyes with one hand, the other one carefully supporting the neck of the baby on your lap. Simon sighs, his bare hand hesitantly reaching down to trace the features of the tiny girl, being careful with her as if she would break if he applied any pressure. He notices your eyes glued to his hand, eyebrows furrowed. He's about to move his hand away until you adjust the little girl so he can touch her face without the awkward angle.

''Give me one more chance. Please— please, let me be a father to her.'' Simon never begged for anything, not even when he was tortured for months to no end, drugged, beaten like a dog, yet here he is; begging his ex for a chance to keep the girl in his life. You don't reply.

''I'll do everything I can. What I should've done. I want to be here, please.'' He was so damn ready to get on his knees and beg if that's what it took for you to let him be involved in her life. He's not asking you to be together— he knows he doesn't deserve that chance.

''She's looking at you like she knows you.'' Your response is ominous to say the least. You want to deny him, to tell him he doesn't even deserve to be able to touch the little girl you birthed alone, that he doesn't deserve the chance at a family after he destroyed 4 years of a relationship because of the very same thing, but... your little girl is looking up at him with pure admiration and curiosity in her big brown eyes, her tiny hand struggling to hold one of his fingers. Growing up with a single parent yourself, you know she deserves better, and you're willing to put your pride and pain aside to make sure she gets the world.

''Okay.'' You reply after taking a deep breath, holding it into your lungs for what feels like forever, choosing to ignore the strong arms wrapping around you, bringing all three of you close. It feels... right.

[NEXT]

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you��re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU - If his parents are going to treat him like a punk, he might as well lean into it. 

Danny is getting seriously worn down by his parents constantly asking him to explain why he’s gone all the time and why his grades have slipped so far. I mean, sure, it took them months to notice, but now that they have, they’re alluding to the fact that he’s turned into some kind of punk and that he’s not taking life as seriously as he should be. This is what makes Danny kind of snap. 

He cuts his hair, gets Sam to pierce his ears in a few places (which sucked but was nice to catch up with her since Team Phantom didn’t get out much anymore), learns how to skateboard and gets Tuck to help him mask his identity on the internet as he begins online protesting the unethical treatment of ghosts. He makes picket signs that he leaves outside of Fentonworks and it takes days before his parents see them because they’re down in the lab. They go back up immediately after his parents take them down, and he begins tagging buildings with protest sayings and art all over amity park.

No matter how they ground him, the Drs Fenton are at a loss as to what to do to control Danny. Jazz says it’s not her place to interfere and is cheering her little brother on for being passionate about a new hobby. 

Danny’s honestly really vibing with the changes. He always understood why Sam wanted control over her own look, but he’s really leaning into the whole shebang. Ember and Johnny13 have never bonded over anything more than they have the punk transformation of their King. He’s really representing them fr fr- she taught him how to play the bass. 

With enough protests about the Anti-Ecto acts, the JL step in and begin their efforts to lobby change within the US government. Constantine is up to date on the new King being from Earth and thinks they might be able to weasel out a non-apocalyptic scenario if they reach out sooner than later. A letter gets sent through the infinite realms (No way in fuck was John going to try and summon a fucking King excuse you Bats)- Danny gets the letter and decides to let them sweat a bit, sending back his own letter that just says “K.” cause he’s learned that adults/authority figures all suck ass until proven otherwise. After a few days, a portal opens up in the middle of their meeting. 

Ghost King Phantom is rolling in on a skateboard, with the Ring of rage dangling from one of his ear piercings and ice crown floating above his head. He’s drinking an off brand smoothie, wearing a leather jacket that has medieval chainmail on it over his now distressed hazmat suit and his boots steel toed.

“...Sup. Y’all want to do something about this whole situation? I’m an all or nothing kind of guy.” Danny greets them. He means that he’s willing to be diligent in his efforts to disbar the Acts. It gets interpreted as him threatening to end the world, ofc, but that’s an issue he has to deal with later. 

“King Phantom we have been working daily to-” 

“Uh huh. Look, didn’t you guys have like a teenage group? I want to work with them, they’ll probably actually help me get shit done while you fuck around with paper work.”