#I haven’t watched this shit in so long so I barely remember much but this is crazy regardless 😭

[tariah23]

What the fuck!???

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Staying

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[moongirlcleo]

A Thorough Appointment

Tags: Jealousy, Childhood Friends, MMF Threesome, Counter Sex, Kitchen Sex, Oral, Caleb and Zayne get Competitive, Poly-ish, MC is a little Shit, Porn with Plot, Double Penetration AN: Check out all of my works on AO3! -> | link

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo

After a long day of hunting—and a doctor’s appointment you were definitely late to—you barely have time to kick off your boots before walking straight into a storm: Caleb’s jealousy. One rescheduled date, one harmless visit to Dr. Zayne, and suddenly, you’re the grand prize in a competition you didn’t even sign up for.

What starts as a little petty jealousy spirals into a full-blown rivalry, and before you know it, they’re both set on proving exactly who knows how to take care of you best. Spoiler alert: they’re both very, very competitive.

“Your appointment was scheduled for 2:30 today, were you aware of that?” The receptionist at the desk of Akso Hospital said, barely looking up from the computer screen. Her plaited hair curled around her face from under the bonnet on top of her head, giving her a worn but stern look.

With a wince, you nodded.

“Er, yeah… I apologize, but I was working and I had an assignment run late.” You wrung your hands in embarrassment, hoping the receptionist would understand. After all, being a Deepspace Hunter wasn’t exactly your typical nine to five.

The receptionist gave you a withering look, causing the apples of your cheeks to burn with heat. She typed something onto her document and nodded toward a small cluster of chairs.

“You can wait over there. The practitioner will call your name when they’re ready for you.”

With a small sigh, you retreated toward the waiting ward, mulling over the previous assignment that had held your schedule up.

Wanderers had been attacking areas of Linkon City in droves lately, keeping all hunters busier than usual. So much so, that you had barely even seen your own partner, Xavier, in weeks. The sheer amount of protocores being turned into the association backlogged the systems, making paperwork become an even bigger nightmare too.

“Ms. L/n?”

Looking up from your hands, you saw a practitioner holding a chart, looking toward you. With a short nod, you stood up and followed the young man as he rattled off a grocery list of questions.

Mumbling a reply, you continued to follow him into Dr. Zayne’s examination room. It smelled of sterilized equipment and a fragrance you couldn’t quite place.

The NP guided you toward the examination bed, to which you hoisted yourself on top of. You silently watched as the practitioner took all of your vitals, quietly charting them down for the doctor to assess.

“Alright, Ms. L/n, Dr. Zayne will be along shortly. When you have a moment, please change out of your clothes into this examination robe.” The NP handed you a flimsy paper gown, and with a smile, he retreated from the room.

Once the door clicked shut, you began to strip down into bareness, hastily tying the rope around your waist to securely tie the gown down.

Settled, you sat on the bed once more and began flipping through your phone apps to entertain yourself while awaiting the doctor. It seemed like only yesterday that you and Zayne were snot-nosed kids, always hanging out together. With a smile, you remembered one such instance where you and Zayne played hide and seek with Caleb, the latter growing upset at being unable to find you until way later. The memory of your youth was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Y/n?” A voice came from behind the door. “May I enter?”

“Y-yes!” you called back. “I’m decent.”

The door opened and Dr. Zayne appeared, looking handsome as ever. He gave you a serene smile and picked up the chart on the counter.

“So,” he began, flipping through the papers. “Looks like you’ve been overexerting yourself again, haven’t you?”

With a sheepish grin, you nodded. “Well, yeah… I mean I’m fine, though, Zayne. Really.”

The doctor gives you a stern look, jaw set. “Y/n, I mean it. You know you’re not supposed to push yourself, else your heart co—”

“I know, Zayne,” you snapped at him. “But I can’t let that stop me from doing my job and protecting the people around Linkon.”

Zayne’s eyes softened as he looked over you. “I know you want to save people. But you can’t do that if you’re dead. I mean it, please try not to overexert yourself.”

Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he set your chart aside. “You always do this, n/n” he muttered, voice softening, though the frustration remained, laced with something unspoken. Something you didn’t want to name.

You blinked, thrown off for just a second. It had been years since he called you a nickname—since the days when scraped knees and childhood dares were your biggest worries. You shifted on the exam bed, folding your arms over your chest like a shield. “And you always worry too much,” you muttered.

Zayne exhaled, shaking his head. “Someone has to.”

A silence stretched between you, thick with familiarity, with the weight of history neither of you addressed. His gaze flickered over you, assessing, as if he could see past the mask of easy confidence you wore. For a moment, you thought he might say something more, something that would break the careful distance you’d kept.

But then his communicator beeped, the sterile air of the examination room shifting back to reality. You let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, taking the opportunity to hop off the table, your movements brisk, determined.

"Promise me you’ll at least consider taking a break," he said, quieter this time.

You hesitated, fingers ghosting over the knot of the paper gown before you forced a grin. "No promises, doc."

Zayne watched you go, jaw set, the worry never leaving his eyes.

The afternoon air was crisp as you stepped out of Akso Hospital, the scent of antiseptic replaced by the damp, metallic tang of the city. Sunlight glared off the polished streets, casting long shadows as you made your way to your vehicle—a sleek black hoverbike stationed in the parking dock. You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling as you swung one leg over the seat and keyed in the ignition.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence, but your mind wasn’t so easily drowned out.

Zayne’s voice still lingered, edged with concern, the ghost of his words brushing against your thoughts like a whisper from another time. You knew he meant well, that he had every reason to be worried, but slowing down wasn’t an option. Not when the city was crawling with Wanderers. Not when Xavier had been out in the field for weeks without so much as a check-in.

Not when you were already late.

Your eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard—an angry red 3:37 PM blinking back at you.

“Shit.”

You revved the bike, the thrusters lifting you effortlessly above the streets of Linkon City. Buildings blurred past in streaks of neon and chrome, the hum of traffic and distant sirens becoming nothing more than background noise. Caleb was waiting. He hated when you were late—though he’d never say it outright, not in so many words. But you knew. You always knew.

He worried, too, though in his own quiet way.

Your grip on the handles tightened as you wove through the lanes of air traffic, mind cycling through a dozen excuses. The job ran late. Zayne held you up. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but something about the thought of Caleb’s knowing stare made your stomach twist with guilt.

You’d make it up to him.

You cut a sharp turn, your apartment complex coming into view, its glass windows reflecting the golden afternoon light. Your fingers tapped absently against the throttle, your heart still hammering from the weight of the day.

Late. Again.

Would Caleb still be waiting? Or had you let another person down today?

You barely had time to kill the engine before the apartment door swung open. Caleb stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unreadable beneath the warm afternoon glow filtering in from the window behind him.

You could tell immediately—he knew.

“You’re late,” he said, voice deceptively even.

You sighed, tugging your helmet off and running a hand through your wind-blown hair. “I know. I—”

“Had an ‘assignment run late’? Or did Zayne hold you up?”

The way he said the name—clipped, pointed—sent a prickle of irritation down your spine. You unzipped your jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch as you stepped inside, leveling him with a tired look. “Caleb.”

“What?” He pushed off the doorframe, shutting it behind you with a quiet click. “Just curious how long I was supposed to wait before you finally decided to show up.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was a doctor’s appointment. Not a date.”

His jaw tightened. “Didn’t look that way from what I heard.”

Your breath hitched for half a second. He had heard something.

“Who told you?” you asked, wary.

Caleb scoffed. “Does it matter?”

Yes, it did. But that wasn’t the fight you were having right now.

You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Caleb, I didn’t plan on seeing him today. I had to go, I got chewed out, end of story.”

He took a slow step closer, eyes flicking over you, searching. “Chewed out?” His voice lowered, tone almost taunting. “So he was worried about you.”

Your lips pressed into a firm line. “That’s his job.”

Caleb let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Right. His job. Funny, because last I checked, I’m the one who actually has to patch you up when you push yourself too hard.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make this a competition.”

His gaze darkened, something possessive flickering behind his eyes. “I don’t have to make it one.”

Silence stretched between you, thick, charged. You should be annoyed. You were annoyed. But the heat in his stare, the sharp edge in his voice, sent something else curling in your chest.

Still, you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“You know,” you said, tilting your head, voice deceptively light. “For someone who isn’t making this a competition, you sure seem jealous.”

Caleb’s jaw tensed, but you didn’t miss the flicker of something else—something unguarded—before he masked it behind a smirk.

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, stepping back.

You arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Forget it. You’re here now. Just… try not to keep me waiting next time.”

You studied him for a beat longer, then let out a quiet chuckle. “Alright, alright. I’ll make it up to you.”

Caleb glanced at you from the corner of his eye, skepticism still lingering in his expression. “Yeah? How?”

You grinned, tossing your helmet onto the couch. “I’ll figure something out.”

The tension didn’t fully dissipate, but for now, it was enough.

Caleb didn’t move right away. Instead, he watched you with that sharp, unreadable gaze, the smirk from earlier fading into something heavier. Something darker.

You barely had time to process it before he took a step forward—then another—until the space between you had all but disappeared.

“Caleb…” you started, voice caught somewhere between exasperation and warning.

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers brushed against your waist, slow, deliberate, tracing the fabric of your shirt as if mapping the shape of you.

“You think this is funny?” His voice had dropped lower, smoother, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in—so close, you could feel the heat radiating from him.

You swallowed, but you refused to be the one to step back. “I think you’re being ridiculous.”

His lips quirked at that, but his eyes remained intense, smoldering. “Ridiculous, huh?”

His fingers flexed against your waist, grip tightening just enough to make your pulse spike. He wasn’t just annoyed anymore—he wanted to prove something. To remind you who you belonged to.

“Caleb,” you murmured, pulse thrumming under the skin of your throat.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was pure velvet, thick with unspoken intent. “If I kissed you right now, would you still think I was being ridiculous?”

Your breath hitched.

He was playing dirty.

Your pride screamed at you to keep the upper hand, to smirk and brush him off like this wasn’t affecting you. But your body betrayed you, heart hammering against your ribs, a traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you—like you were his.

And damn it, maybe you were.

Before you could form a retort, he tilted his head, nose grazing yours, the faintest ghost of a touch against your lips—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound shattered the moment like glass.

Caleb went still, his body tense with frustration, his jaw ticking like he was barely holding back a curse. You blinked, mind still fogged over as you registered the sound.

Another knock.

Caleb exhaled sharply, his hands leaving your body with obvious reluctance. His head fell forward slightly, his lips brushing your ear as he muttered a single word, voice dark with irritation—

“Unbelievable.”

You, still caught between flustered and amused, barely had time to compose yourself before—

“Y/n?”

That voice.

Your stomach dropped.

Caleb’s entire body stiffened, his grip tightening into fists at his sides.

Zayne.

You pulled away, clearing your throat as you straightened your clothes, ignoring the heated look Caleb shot toward the door.

“Uh—one second!” you called, hoping your voice sounded normal.

Caleb let out a low growl, raking a hand through his hair before turning toward the door, murder in his eyes. “Of course it’s him.”

You shot him a warning look, but he only leaned against the couch, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips. “Go ahead, pipsqueak. Let Doctor Perfect in.”

Oh, he was so not letting this go.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you unlocked the door—only to be met with Zayne’s calm, knowing gaze.

And just like that, the tension in the room shifted again.

You barely had time to school your expression before Zayne’s eyes flickered over you, sharp and assessing. He was calm—too calm—the kind of composed that sent a prickle of unease down your spine.

“Hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

Zayne’s gaze lingered on you a beat too long before he lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer my messages.”

You blinked, stomach twisting as you glanced at your phone—still sitting on the couch, untouched. Damn it.

Before you could respond, a slow, almost too satisfied voice cut in from behind you.

“She was a little… busy.”

You closed your eyes briefly, bracing yourself before turning.

Caleb leaned against the back of the couch, arms still crossed, a smirk playing at his lips—relaxed, easy, deliberate. Like he wanted Zayne to see.

Zayne’s posture didn’t shift, but you caught the flicker of tension in his jaw.

“I see,” he said smoothly, though there was something clipped underneath his tone. His gaze moved between the two of you, his lips pressing into a firm line before he turned his attention back to you. “I needed to check in. You left the hospital in a hurry.”

“She’s fine,” Caleb interjected before you could answer, pushing off the couch and strolling toward you. He stopped just close enough that Zayne had to either stand his ground or step back.

Zayne didn’t move.

You sighed, muttering, “I was going to say that myself,” throwing Caleb a look.

Caleb just gave you an innocent shrug. “Just savin’ you the trouble.”

Zayne’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Right.” He turned his full attention back to you, clearly choosing to ignore Caleb’s presence. “You should be fine, but I meant it when I said you need to ease up. If you keep pushing yourself—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Caleb cut in again, voice lazy, but his eyes gleamed with something sharp. “I make sure she gets plenty of rest.”

Zayne’s jaw did tick this time, and you swore you felt the air in the room drop a degree.

Okay, enough.

You stepped between them, pressing a hand against Caleb’s chest to physically keep him from leaning any closer. “Okay, that’s enough out of you,” you muttered before looking at Zayne. “And I’m fine, I promise.”

Zayne’s gaze flickered down to your hand against Caleb’s chest before meeting your eyes again. “You said that last time.”

You huffed. “I mean it.”

Zayne studied you for a long moment before exhaling, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fine.” But the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

Caleb, sensing victory, let his smirk widen. “See? She means it, Doc. You can go now.”

Zayne’s eyes snapped toward him, sharp as a blade, but instead of biting back, he exhaled and turned to you. “I’ll check in later.”

The moment he stepped back toward the door, Caleb slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in just close enough that Zayne had to notice.

“Looking forward to it,” Caleb said, his tone all mockery and satisfaction.

Zayne’s eyes met yours one last time, and for a split second, you thought you saw something—something that wasn’t anger, wasn’t frustration, but something deeper.

He didn’t leave.

His fingers twitched at his side, his jaw set like he was debating something internally, but his feet stayed firmly planted. He wasn’t going to give Caleb the satisfaction of walking out first.

You felt the shift immediately. The charged air between them thickened, tension rolling through the room like an oncoming storm.

Caleb, always one to push, leaned further into your space, his arm still draped lazily around your shoulders. “Something wrong, Doctor?” he drawled, voice rich with amusement.

Zayne exhaled through his nose, but there was something measured in his expression, something controlled. “I just want to make sure she is actually taking care of herself,” he said, tone neutral. “Not being… distracted.”

Caleb let out a low chuckle, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I make sure she’s taken care of. Every. Single. Day.” His fingers brushed against your arm as he spoke, slow and deliberate, just enough to make a point.

Zayne’s eyes darkened.

You let out an exasperated sigh, stepping forward to put some space between them before they started circling each other like predators. “Okay, that’s enough of whatever this is,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“This?” Caleb grinned. “Come on, pipsqueak, don’t act like you don’t enjoy a little attention.”

Zayne scoffed. “She doesn’t need this kind of attention. She needs rest.”

“Yeah?” Caleb mused, tilting his head. “And I bet you’d love to be the one to give it to her, wouldn’t you?”

Zayne’s jaw flexed.

You, caught between them, felt like you were standing at the edge of something dangerous—something thrilling. Caleb had always been possessive, but Zayne? Zayne was different. He was steady, rational, someone who thought things through.

But not right now.

Right now, he was pushing back.

Zayne took a step closer, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I care about her well-being.” His eyes locked onto Caleb’s. “That’s more than I can say for you.”

Caleb’s smirk widened, but his grip on your waist tightened. “That so?” His gaze flicked to you, hooded, deliberate. “What do you think, baby?”

Your breath caught.

You were so not getting in the middle of this.

Or maybe… you already were.

Zayne watched you carefully, the weight of his stare almost suffocating. Caleb’s fingers traced lazy circles against your hip, his expression smug, knowing.

Heat curled low in your stomach.

Damn them both.

You could play coy, pretend this was nothing more than a pissing contest. Or you could really test them.

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “I think…” you dragged out, shifting slightly so Caleb’s grip adjusted and Zayne’s focus sharpened, “...this is pointless.”

Caleb chuckled. “Come on, pipsqueak. You love when we fight over you.”

Zayne exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not fighting over her.”

Caleb’s brows shot up. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched. “I think I need a drink.”

Before either of them could argue, you slipped out from Caleb’s hold, brushing past Zayne on your way to the kitchen. You felt both of them watch you go, their attention a tangible weight pressing into your back.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

And yet, as you poured yourself a glass of wine with slightly unsteady fingers, you couldn't shake the realization:

You liked it.

You took a slow sip of your wine, savoring the quiet moment—if only to let the tension stretch a little further, tighten just enough before you snapped it.

Behind you, you could still feel their stares, the weight of them pressing into you like a tangible force. Caleb was undoubtedly grinning, waiting for you to react, waiting for you to play his game. And Zayne? Zayne was still convincing himself that he wasn’t in this game.

You smirked against the rim of your glass. That wouldn’t last long.

Turning on your heel, you leaned against the counter, tilting your head as you let your gaze flicker between them, slow, considering.

“So,” you said, swirling your glass between your fingers. “You two seem pretty convinced you know what’s best for me.”

Caleb arched a brow, crossing his arms. “That a problem, pipsqueak?”

Zayne’s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes sharpened. “We just don’t want you overworking yourself.”

You hummed. “Right. So which one of you actually plans to do something about it?”

That got their attention.

Caleb’s grin widened, a lazy, dangerous thing. “Oh, I like where this is going.”

Zayne, ever the rational one, exhaled. “Y/n.”

You shrugged, setting your glass down and stepping forward, close enough that they both had to take notice. “You both keep telling me you’re looking out for me, that I need to rest, that I should take care of myself.” You glanced up at Caleb, then at Zayne, letting the air between you all thrum with expectation. “So prove it.”

Caleb was already on board, eyes glinting with interest. He stepped in first, fingers brushing the inside of your wrist as he smirked down at you. “You know I don’t back down from a challenge, pipsqueak.”

You met his gaze, pulse ticking faster as you turned to Zayne, who was watching the exchange with something unreadable in his expression—something deep, something restrained.

You smiled, slow and knowing. “And you, Zayne?”

For a second, he didn’t move. But then—deliberately, purposefully—he reached out, trailing his fingers down your other arm, his touch featherlight but deliberate. “If you want me to prove something,” he murmured, voice low, “then I will.”

Your breath caught.

Oh.

This was happening.

Caleb chuckled, dark amusement rolling off him as he leaned in closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours. “Guess the real question is…” His fingers ghosted over your waist, teasing. “Who makes you feel better, pipsqueak?”

Zayne’s hand flexed subtly against your arm, his touch grounding, steady, intentional. “Tell us what you need.”

A slow, sharp thrill curled down your spine.

This wasn’t just them competing.

This was them laying it at your feet.

And you were going to take it.

Your smirk deepened as you glanced between them, heat curling through your veins. Oh, this was going to be fun.

You let out a slow breath, drawing out the tension as you trailed your fingers up Caleb’s chest, then turned and let your other hand slide along Zayne’s forearm. A test. A challenge.

“Well,” you mused, voice smooth as silk. “You both seem confident.” You tilted your head, gaze flickering with amusement. “But confidence doesn’t mean much without action, does it?”

Caleb’s grip tightened at your waist, his smirk widening. “Careful, pipsqueak. You know I love a dare.”

Zayne exhaled through his nose, steady but watching you, eyes hooded. “You shouldn’t play games you don’t want to win.”

You chuckled, slow and sweet. “Oh, but I do want to win.”

Caleb hummed low in his throat, his fingers grazing up your spine. “Then let’s play.”

And just like that, they did.

Caleb was the first to move—of course he was. He was reckless, fast, the one who always pushed boundaries first. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips just enough to make you suck in a breath, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “That little appointment stress you out, baby?”

You huffed, but before you could snap back, Zayne was already countering—his touch different, slower, methodical. His fingers traced up the back of your neck, barely there, teasing warmth spreading through you as he leaned in from the other side.

“You’re avoiding the question,” he said, voice dipping into something quieter, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “What do you need?”

Damn them both.

Your pulse thrummed as you swallowed, eyes flicking between them. They were the ones in competition, and yet here you were, caught in their little storm, heat rising in your cheeks, breath coming in shorter, sharper.

You had to regain control.

So you smirked and pulled back just slightly, dragging your hands down their arms as you stepped out of their space. Not a rejection—just a tease, a taunt.

“Honestly?” you mused, letting your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, playful. “I’m still waiting for one of you to impress me with your little game.”

Caleb let out a low growl of approval, shaking his head. “Oh, you like pushing your luck, don’t you?”

Zayne, ever composed, rolled his shoulders back, gaze dark with something unreadable. “Careful,” he warned, though there was no real threat behind it. Only a promise.

You leaned against the counter, tilting your head. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Caleb moved first—again—grabbing your wrist and yanking you flush against him. Your breath caught, but you refused to falter, your hands landing against his shoulders as he smirked down at you.

“I don’t think you understand, pipsqueak,” he murmured, fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “You are the game.”

Before you could bite back a response, Zayne was there—his presence grounding, solid, but no less demanding. His fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your head slightly so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Then we’ll just have to see,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk, “who wins.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Oh, hell.

Before you could even think of responding, Caleb’s lips were on your neck, open-mouthed, hot, his fingers gripping your waist just enough to make you feel him, to know exactly how much he wanted this.

And then—Zayne’s fingers trailed up your throat, tilting your head further as his lips hovered just over yours, not kissing you, not yet, but so damn close you thought you might lose your mind.

“You wanted to be taken care of, didn’t you?” Zayne murmured against your lips, voice a phantom touch.

Caleb chuckled against your skin, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

And just like that— the last shred of control snapped like a live wire.

Caleb, always the one who acted before thinking, always the one who wanted to leave a mark. His teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck before he soothed it with his tongue, his grip tightening on your waist as if daring you to pull away.

But you wouldn’t.

Not when Zayne was still there, fingers tilting your chin, controlling the angle of your head, his breath hot against your lips. “You wanted to play,” he murmured, his voice lower now, thick with something darker. “Are you ready for the consequences?”

You barely had time to suck in a breath before Zayne finally closed the distance, his lips slanting over yours, slow but claiming, the kind of kiss that swallowed you whole. Where Caleb was fire, Zayne was an ocean, pulling you under with the sheer weight of his control.

You barely registered Caleb’s growl of amusement before his hands slid beneath your thighs.

“Up, pipsqueak.”

Before you could argue, he lifted you, strong and easy, and you yelped as he set you on the counter, your legs instinctively parting as he stepped between them.

Zayne barely moved from his spot, standing beside you, watching the way Caleb’s hands slid over your thighs, the way you instinctively leaned into the touch. But when you turned to meet his gaze, something dangerous flickered in his eyes—something restrained, like he was holding himself back just enough to let Caleb get away with it.

For now.

“Jealous, doc?” Caleb teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, testing.

Zayne hummed, rolling his sleeves up, eyes never leaving yours. “Not at all.”

Then he leaned in, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear. “You know how patient I can be.”

You shivered.

Caleb chuckled darkly. “Yeah? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Then his mouth was on you, lips searing as he kissed you like he wanted to burn himself into your skin. His hands roamed, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you closer, your body flush against his.

You moaned against his lips, but before you could lose yourself entirely, Zayne was there again—his fingers sliding up your arm, up your neck, threading through your hair as he pulled you away from Caleb and back into him.

His mouth met yours again, this time rougher, more demanding, as if he was reclaiming his space in this game.

Caleb let out a low, satisfied hum. “There’s that competitive side.”

You barely had time to process the heat in Zayne’s gaze before Caleb’s hands were sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips ghosting up your back, making you arch against him.

“I think,” Caleb murmured against your throat, “we should see just how much she can take.”

Zayne smirked against your lips. “Agreed.”

Caleb nudged you to the edge of the counter, fingers making quick work of your zipper. Beside you, Zayne watched, his expression carefully unreadable—but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched just slightly.

The glint in Caleb’s eye was unmistakable as he slowly peeled your pants down, his fingers dragging against your heated skin. A lazy grin spread across his lips as a flush crept up your cheeks.

“What a perfect spread you’ve got for me,” he murmured, licking his lips.

Zayne exhaled sharply, unimpressed. “If you’re just going to tease her, step aside so a real man can do the job.”

Caleb shot him a glare. “And what, you think that’s you? Come on, doc. Even as kids, you couldn’t take care of her like I could.”

Without another word, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down in one smooth motion. The way both men stared at you—hungry, reverent—sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

Then, slow as a hunter stalking prey, Caleb sank to his knees, lips ghosting over your inner thigh before his tongue swiped a deliberate path over your heat. The precise movement made you exhale shakily, your eyes fluttering shut—until a warm hand caught your chin.

Zayne.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your soft whimpers as Caleb’s mouth worked between your legs, devouring you like a man starved.

You barely had time to register the way Caleb groaned against you, completely lost in the taste of you, before he pulled back just enough to smirk up at you. His lips glistened, his breath warm against your core.

“Pipsqueak, we’re moving this to the couch.”

Before you could respond, Zayne stepped in, effortlessly lifting you off the counter and turning you over in one fluid motion. Your stomach pressed against the cool surface, your ass high in the air, as he smoothed a hand down your spine.

“No, we’re not,” he murmured. “I’m taking her right here. Feel free to watch, Colonel.”

Caleb huffed a laugh, but there was an edge to it. He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he eyed the doctor with barely contained irritation. “You always gotta be first, huh?”

Zayne ignored him, too focused on the way your body trembled in anticipation beneath him. His zipper slid down, the sound sharp in the quiet tension of the room.

Caleb scoffed at the sight of him stroking his thick length, precum already beading at the tip. “I’m bigger.”

Zayne didn’t dignify him with a response, instead lining himself up against your slick entrance. His breath was hot against your shoulder as he murmured, “Can I move?”

“Yes,” you whispered, then, remembering your audience, “But turn me to face Caleb.”

Caleb’s eyes darkened with interest as Zayne shifted you, allowing you to brace yourself against the counter while still facing the other man. The doctor’s first thrust was slow, deliberate, stretching you open inch by inch, pulling a broken moan from your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Zayne breathed, his voice shaking with restraint. “You feel incredible. Even better than I imagined.”

Caleb barked a laugh, stepping closer. “So you have fantasized about her, doc.” His fingers tucked under your chin, tilting your face up toward him. “Not gonna lie, pipsqueak, as much as I hate that he’s fucking you first, you look damn good split apart on a cock.”

Your breath hitched as Zayne’s pace quickened, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you. Your hands reached for Caleb’s waistband, already desperate to feel him too.

“I bet you wish it was you inside her right now, don’t you, Caleb?” Zayne grunted, hips snapping forward.

Caleb smirked, shoving his pants down and letting his thick length spring free. “Oh, I know I will be soon. Right, pipsqueak?”

Ignoring his words, you leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. The weight and heat of him sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, especially when he hissed at the flick of your tongue.

“Fuck,” Caleb panted, fingers threading through your hair. “I mean it, though. I need to fuck you too.”

Zayne groaned behind you, his thrusts growing erratic. “Then do it now, before I lose control.” His grip on your hips tightened. “I want to make her come before either of us do.”

Caleb glanced down at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, waiting for your answer. The air in the room was thick with tension, anticipation crackling between all three of you.

You swallowed around Caleb’s cock, then pulled back just enough to murmur, “Let’s make it work, then.”

Zayne paused, considering. “If you turn toward me, Caleb can—”

“No,” Caleb interrupted, voice firm. “You had your turn with her pussy. It’s my turn. You take her ass.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “How about we let her decide?”

Two sets of eyes turned to you, heated and waiting.

You licked your lips, then smirked. “I am feeling a little needy… and I do think I want to feel Caleb.”

Caleb’s smirk was pure satisfaction as he reached for you, cradling you against his chest. Zayne schooled his features into something unreadable, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes as he pulled out and let you step toward Caleb.

“Come here, Y/N,” Caleb murmured, guiding you toward the couch. Zayne followed, his gaze heavy on your back.

Caleb sank onto the cushions, signaling you to straddle him. “Here’s how we do this. You ride me, and doc takes you from behind. You remember your safe word, yeah?”

Your heart pounded, excitement thrumming through you as you nodded. “Got it.”

You sank down onto Caleb’s cock, the stretch making your head fall back as he groaned, his hands gripping your hips. 

 “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered.

Zayne, behind you, let out a slow breath. “She is.” His hands traced down your spine, soothing. “I’m going to put it in, alright? Let me know if it’s too much.”

You braced yourself as he pressed against your tight entrance, the sensation overwhelming in the best way.

“Should I stop?” Zayne asked, voice tight.

You shook your head, body thrumming with overstimulation. “No—just… keep going.”

Caleb kissed your throat, murmuring, “That’s my girl. You can take it, can’t you?”

Zayne gave a rare smirk. “Alright.” He pushed in fully, the stretch making both men groan at the tightness. Caleb’s grip on your hips tightened as he buried himself deeper.

“Holy fuck,” Caleb breathed.

Zayne exhaled sharply. “Agreed.”

The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds of their thrusts, the heat pooling low in your stomach. Your body trembled between them, caught in the perfect storm of their attention, their need.

“Guys,” you gasped, “I—I’m close.”

Both of them groaned, their own control unraveling.

“Can I come inside you?” Caleb rasped, his voice clipped. “Tell me I can, and I’ll fill you up.”

Zayne, voice low, added, “I won’t last much longer either.”

Your nails dug into Caleb’s shoulders. “I want you both to come inside me.”

That was all it took.

Zayne shuddered as he spilled into you, his grip almost bruising, his breath hot against your shoulder. Caleb wasn’t far behind, groaning into your skin as he pulsed inside you, their releases mixing within you.

The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, body clenching around them as your orgasm ripped through you.

All three of you collapsed in a tangled mess of limbs, panting, your skin humming with satisfaction.

You lay between them, your chest still rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths, your skin humming with the aftershocks of everything you’d just done. The air in the apartment was thick with heat, the kind that clung to your skin, leaving no room for pretense or denial.

Caleb was the first to break the silence, a lazy, satisfied chuckle rolling from deep in his throat as he draped an arm over his forehead. “Damn, pipsqueak,” he murmured, voice rough, spent, but still carrying that unmistakable smugness. “You really know how to keep a man on his toes.”

You exhaled a slow breath, a smirk curling at the edges of your lips. “I’d say the same for you.”

Zayne, ever composed, ran a hand through his tousled hair, the sharp control he always carried just barely slipping at the edges. He turned his head, gaze flickering over you, assessing, lingering. Then, without a word, he reached out, fingers brushing lightly down the curve of your waist—soft, reverent, a quiet claim. “Are you alright?”

You hummed, stretching slightly, feeling the delicious ache in your limbs. “More than alright.”

Caleb huffed a laugh, rolling onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he trailed lazy fingers down your stomach, teasing. “So… who won?”

You bit your lip, flicking your gaze between the two of them—Caleb’s ever-present smirk, Zayne’s sharp, expectant stare. You let the silence stretch, relishing in their anticipation, in the way they both waited for your answer.

Then, you grinned. “Pipsqueak,” you echoed Caleb’s earlier words, sing-song voice dripping with amusement, “this was just round one.”

Caleb’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he tugged you closer, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder. “Cocky little thing.”

Zayne exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but there was something dangerous glinting in his eyes. He brushed his knuckles down your jaw, slow, intentional. “Next time,” he murmured, voice low with quiet promise, “I won’t be as patient.”

His words caused you to shiver. 

Oh. This was far from over.

[xxaraaq]

wc | 1.04k

cw | unprotected sex, car sex

Farmhand! Toij x Southern! reader

A/N | It's been so since my last post so please forgive me for that, I just needed to take a break. I'm a bit rusty, but I hope you still enjoy.

Mr. Farmhand Toji, all big and mean and tan with his southern drawl and swoon worthy smile. He hasn’t seen you in a while, and you’ve changed.

He remembers you from way back when: the knobby kneed, skin and bones girl who would somehow always convince your daddy to save at least one cow from the drove before they were sent off to slaughter. Yeah, you were different now – much different. You were grown now, and you looked the part.

“Don't go lookin’ for trouble now, you’re ten years her senior.” Warned Nanami when he caught Toij’s eyes wandering. It ain’t like you're a little girl anymore. A college graduate ready to take over the logistics part of your fathers massive farm, he’s sure you know how to handle yourself. And it’s not like he's the only guilty party. He’s felt your gaze on him ever since you got here, going out your way to make sure that he knows you’re back in town. 

He finally caught you at the country fair, all dressed up in your cowboy boots and low rise jean shorts, a real sight to see. “How we doin’ today ladies?” He comes from behind, catching both you and your friends off guard. You turn to see him, covered in dirt fresh off his shift, face fine as can be with his eyes dead set on you. “I think it would be right to say that we’ve been havin’ a great day so far, ain’t that right girls?” You say, saccharine sweet smile forming on your face. They nod, and you don’t have to break your neck to sense the look they have on their faces. You haven’t stopped talking about the man in front of you since your foot first landed on the dirt road of your hometown, and it doesn’t take but a second for the two of them to scamper off, saying something about getting more money from the ATM machine to buy more tickets. Just the two of you now, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this hot and bothered. 

The two of you walk with no destination in mind, basking in the sounds of children running rampant and the buzzing of the rides. “I don’t think we’ve spoken since you were still kickin’ and cryin’ about havin’ to see your favorite heifer sent off to the stockyard.” He watches you, watches how your hips sway side to side and how your cleavage shines through your too tight shirt. You smile at the memory of you begging your mother to convince your dad to let you keep at least one of them on the farm, crying and crying about how you would personally take care of it. “Well that was a long time ago Toji, and for your information,” You stop dead in your tracks, hand on your hip and devilish smirk on your face. “It wasn’t all too long ago when you were always getting sent to clean up horse shit for sneaking girls onto the property, so let’s agree to say that we’ve been on a journey of self growth.” Your voice is sultry, music to his ears if he admitted. He bends down just low enough to get close, making your body heat up. He smirks, eyes clouded with something that soaked your panties. “Are you sass mouthin’ me, Mrs. City girl?” He asks, and you find yourself emboldened to keep on. “What are gonna do if I am, Mr. Country boy?” You look him up and down, practically eye fucking him.

This is what you get for being bold.

“I- I can’t, s’too much.” Hand pushing – well, trying to push him from you. The car is fogging up, heat only helping to blur your mind even more. “What happened to that - fuck - that smart mouth? Thought your bite could back up your bark.” It’s overwhelming the way he’s fucking into you, his thick length filling you up too good. His truck shakes from the sheer force of his thrusts, all of it almost too much to handle. You can barely register what he’s saying, mind occupied with how deep he’s managed to reach inside you. You didn’t expect this, the intoxicating feeling he gives you as he buries your head into his leather seats. The men on your campus can’t even compare to him, skinny as a twig if placed next to Toji. “M’- shit -m’ cumming!” He doesn’t let up for a second, only pushing your back into the meanest arch you think you’ve ever been in. 

Your orgasm crashes through your body, leaving you speechless as your body jerks from the aftershocks. But he’s not done, not yet. You’re certain he’s going to drive you to insanity the way he ruts into you like a man starved. Your words come out incoherent, barely stringing together a sentence as pulls you to his chest by your hair. “You feel good, hmm?” His scent envelops whatever part of your brain that’s still working, the smell of his sweat and sex overriding your senses. “Yes, s, s’good, so good.” A blissed out smile graces your face, arms reaching out to grab whatever you can to try and ground yourself. “Shit,” His thrusts grow irregular, irate even, as his orgasm draws closer and closer with each passing second. He cums deep inside you, a raw growl crawling out from the deepest parts of him as his thrusts slow. 

The two of you collapse onto the seat, flushed and exhausted with remnants of pleasure coursing through you. You feel him pull out of you with a hiss, his seeding dribbling out of you. “I could go for a chili dog right about now.” He groans, stretching out like there’s an infinite amount of space to do so. “Are you really thinkin’ about food right now?” You roll your eyes, blindly searching for your shirt. He answers with a simple nod, chest glistening with sweat as he zips up his jeans. He props himself up on his elbow, somehow invading your personal space despite everything. “Would you care to join me for a ride on the carousel?” He asks, low voice making you hot and bothered all over again. 

You’ve changed, but he sure hasn’t.

-Nene

[mccormickgf]

Hiiii, can u do a craig tucker with a baby fever/breeding kink x fem reader?? It would give me so much life cause i been reading the same fanfics of him over and over 😭, thank you so much if you do it

need to breed : craig tucker

warnings: nsfw (18+), fem and afab reader, breeding, p-in-v sex, pregnancy mentions, overstimulation, feral craig tbh

notes: i was just gonna write the smut part, but i love craig sm and wanted to write more 😭 also i haven’t written smut in months so i apologize if i’m rusty <3

“we should have a kid.”

you nearly choke on your own spit at your husband’s forwardness. craig’s always been very blunt in what he says about things or others. but when it comes to the things he wants, he’s a little less vocal. so hearing a suggestion, especially like the one he said, threw you for a loop.

“you- you want to get me pregnant?” you questioned, disbelief in your tone, “and have a baby?”

“that’s usually the order it goes in, yeah.”

you roll your eyes at his sass, but you don’t comment on it. instead, you question him. “whatever, whatever,” you said, “but what’s making you want this now?”

even before you and craig got married, you two talked about having kids one day. it was something both of you wanted in the future. but you weren’t expecting the conversation to happen in the near future.

craig pushes off the doorframe, walking his body to his side of the bed. you watch him curiously as his eyes trail down your body— only wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a thin tank top.

“clyde keeps sending me pictures of he and his wife’s new baby,” craig explained, “it— i guess it just makes me wonder what our baby would look like. and we have the funds to stay afloat, even with one.”

you smile lightly at him. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. maybe it’d have craig’s jet black hair and your eyes, or your hair and craig’s eyes and nose. when you thought about his strong arms holding onto a little chubby baby— your heart soared.

you press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “let’s try.”

a broken sob falls past your lips as craig thrusts inside of you for the umpteenth time. you don’t know how long you’ve been there, laying on your back on the mattress with your legs folded to your shoulders, but you know you’ve been there long enough for craig to fuck three loads into your sopping cunt. or was it four? you could barely remember your own name, let alone how many times you’ve both cum.

“craig— oh god! it’s too much, ‘s too much!” you cried out. craig’s thrusts were furiously fast, yet accurate enough to hit that one spot that made you see stars over and over again.

“you can take it— fuck!” craig groaned, “gotta make sure you get pregnant, right?”

a shaky moan falls past your lips as you bite the bottom one, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you like a vice.

normally, craig is a slow-fucker. not necessarily overly slow in pace, but in how he takes his time to pleasure you fully. but this? this is a whole new thing for you and him. it’s like a switch got flipped inside his brain, and everything else was shut off except for his need to breed you.

craig’s cock continued to move in and out of you at an animalistic pace. your pussy was beyond spent, leaking a mix of his cum (that he hasn’t already fucked back into you) and yours onto the bedsheets. if you weren’t so out of it, you’d be embarrassed at the mess beneath you and the sound of it being fucked back into you.

“gonna fill you up with my babies, make you a mama,” craig continued to ramble, a small sheen of sweat on his forehead, “you’d like that wouldn’t you? get you all, shit— nice and pregnant.”

your cunt involuntarily squeezed around his cock at his words, a pornographic moan escaping you. craig lightly chuckled, “oh, so you do like it. i just felt your pretty pussy squeeze me.”

your face burns, but there’s very little chance for embarrassment as you feel another orgasm building up, a heat in your tummy. frantic moans and whines escape you, the pleasure bordering on painful from how many times you’ve cum.

“god, fuck!” you cried, “craig, ‘m gonna cum!” tears of pleasure escape your eyes, falling down your cheeks.

with one hand, craig reaches down and runs firm yet rhythmic circles on your clit, making you gasp. with the other, he grabs onto your hand, pressing it to his lips.

“you gonna cum with me, honey?” he said, his thrusts becoming slightly sloppier as he gets closer to his orgasm, “i’m gonna— gonna fill you up again, k? to make sure you have my baby.”

pleas leave your lips as you grip craig’s hand, throwing your head back as the heat in your stomach finally releases with a final loud moan. craig quickly follows, groaning as his load fills your pussy.

craig stays inside of you as his forehead falls against yours, both of your chests moving up and down in sync. you feel beyond spent, your legs numb from holding them up for so long.

but before you can say anything, craig leans up slightly so he can look in your eyes. “got one more in ya, honey? i wanna make sure i get you pregnant on the first try.”

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Fool In Love — Jeon Wonwoo

✧ Love is a foolish thing ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out exactly why your boyfriend has been so distant lately.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x boyfriend!Jeon Wonwoo 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 1k 🎥 Warnings: swearing, cheating 🎥 Notes: more angst! sorry but not sorry hehe 🙃 🎥 Shout out: as always, thanks to my lemon drop @nothoughtsjustfic for helping and keeping me sane 💜

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“Do you still love me?”

You watched as your boyfriend tore his eyes away from his phone, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“What? Of course I do. Why would you even ask me that?”

“I don’t know. You’ve just been so distant lately, always too busy to spend time with me or too tired to be intimate.” You threw up your hands. “Hell, we haven’t gone on a date in what feels like forever. It just made me start to question everything.”

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, putting his phone away before making his way over to where you were seated on the couch. 

“You have nothing to worry about, baby. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he assured you, wrapping a comforting arm around your frame. 

You nodded hesitantly, still not entirely convinced by his words. While you deeply loved your boyfriend of five years, you couldn’t deny that there was a disconnect between the two of you. Whereas just a year ago Wonwoo would have jumped at the opportunity to spend every waking moment with you, he barely looked at you nowadays. 

No more daily compliments, no more occasional presents, and certainly no more spontaneous dates.

You didn’t quite know what had caused it but you missed what you once had. More importantly, you missed the old Wonwoo. 

“How about we go somewhere for dinner tonight, just you and me? Like old times?” Wonwoo proposed, offering you a smile as he squeezed your arm. 

“I’d love that.” You smiled, a spark of hope settling in your stomach at the thought of rekindling your relationship. 

“Got any places in mind?”

“You remember that Italian place I’ve been wanting to go to?” Your eyes lit up in excitement. 

Wonwoo instantly dropped his smile at your suggestion, his eyes growing wide.

“No, not that one.”

You frowned, not understanding his sudden shift. “Why? We both love Italian food and I’ve heard great things about this place.”

“I’ve heard the food and staff are shit so I’m not willing to risk it, baby. Let’s just pick one we both love, hmm?”

“Wonwoo.”

“Y/N.”

You sighed in defeat. “You’re really not going to give in, are you?”

“Correct. Choose any other place.” He kissed your cheek. 

“Fine, I’ll find us another restaurant. But you’re paying.”

—

You’d been so excited for your upcoming date, carefully planning out your outfit and makeup, making sure to pick some of Wonwoo’s favorites in the hopes of ending the night with some long-awaited intimacy.

But all your hopes came crashing down when the two of you had sat down at the fancy restaurant. 

Wonwoo was distracted throughout the entirety of the dinner, practically glued to his phone which seemed to go off every few minutes. Bad thoughts were floating through your mind as you watched him try to contain his smile every time he glanced at the device, not for a second believing his excuse of being so excited to spend quality time with the love of his life. But you also didn’t want to assume the worst because it was Wonwoo after all, the man who’d promised with his entire heart that he’d never ever hurt you like that. 

And you wanted to believe that, you really needed to believe that. 

But as the days passed, the distance between you never lessened, only seeming to become bigger and bigger until you felt like you could no longer be comfortable in your skin around your boyfriend. 

That’s why you eventually sought out one of your dearest friends on one of those nights where Wonwoo had to work over hours at the office. You were planning to share your thoughts about your relationship with her over dinner, needing to have someone to confirm that you were not actually going crazy. You knew she would understand, having had her fair share of relationship struggles herself.

“You’re telling me he didn’t want to go here? For real?” Nayoung asked in disbelief as the two of you entered the high-class Italian restaurant, several staff members approaching you to take your coats and name of the reservation. 

“Don’t get me started. Something about bad service and food,” you mumbled softly so the staff wouldn’t overhear. 

Nayoung snorted as you began to follow the hostess through the restaurant. “Now that is some bullshit if I ever heard some. I’ve heard nothing but praise. It has one Michelin star for god’s sake.”

“He wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t going to push it. Anyway, I’m glad to experience it with someone who can appreciate it.” You put a smile on your face as you both sat down at your assigned table. 

“Of course, you know I’m never one to turn down a fancy d— oh fuck no.” 

Nayoung didn’t finish her sentence, her eyes focused on something behind you. It couldn’t be anything good judging by the displeased expression on her face. 

“What are you looking at?”

“No, wait!” She tried to reach for you but you’d already turned around, your eyes falling on a couple, the man having just leaned in to kiss the woman on the lips. 

Wait.

“Y/N.”

You couldn’t even hear her since your heart was beating all the way in your ears, drowning out everything around you as you watched the man pull away with a lovestruck look on his face. 

It was the look he used to give you. 

As if sensing someone was looking at him, he slowly turned his head, freezing on the spot as his dark brown orbs connected with yours.

He obviously didn’t expect to be caught here of all places. 

You didn’t waste time making a beeline for the exit, ignoring the desperate pleas coming out of his mouth as you tried to keep it together for just a bit longer. 

Everything suddenly made sense. 

The distance, the phone, the restaurant. 

You should have trusted your gut.

But you chose to believe him like the fool in love you were. 

🎥 Join the Set The Scene taglist: @wonuilu @choco-scoups @whoisbaek15 @vixensss @babycaratdeul

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[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR★彡 Part 1

Next Chapter.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: After a close game and a couple bad decisions, the media has pitted you and Paige against each other. When you finally meet off the court you’re not sure what to expect…

A/n: got many requests for some sort of rival player type-thing!!! I combined some ideas to please the masses :) there will be more parts obv. This chap is pretty long so sorry for that!!

___________________________________________________________

“This question here is for Paige again. Now, is there anything you have to say about the little altercation near the end of the third quarter with number 3 on USC? it was quite a tense moment!”

The blonde smirks to herself, her hand rubbing her forehead. “There ain’t much to say. I went for the ball and obviously she did too. I’m not tryna give anything up, I jus personally think I got it first but that doesn’t matter anymore.” She shrugs. “Thas it.”

There’s a pause for a moment, before she opens her mouth again. “I will say though, ion have much patience for players who can’t control their language.”

Her teammates share looks at this comment, and the reporters attempt to press further but Geno ensures Paige doesn’t talk for the rest of the press conference.

“(Name) how many times have you watched this fuckin video.” JuJu comes up from behind you, scaring the shit out of you and snapping you back to reality.

“I haven’t watched it that much.” You roll your eyes. “I just…never mind.”

“It’s time to move on, shit like this happens. Jus gotta keep on that grind.” She says, sitting down beside you. Despite being a freshman, Juju was naturally mature. You and her had become a popular junior/freshman duo both on and off the court. You pushed her harder and she kept you on your toes.

“I’m moved on.” You huff.

“No you’re not…look at yo hands gripping your phone.” She laughs and you roll your eyes.

The issue wasn’t the prolonged tussle for the ball when your team played UConn, it wasn’t Paige barely regarding you, or her shading the occasional curse you’d let slip during a game. These things all fuelled what really was bothering you. The way you responded.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER, POST UCONN GAME

“Where’s JuJu? Prolly eating or something she’s lowkey a big back.”

You laugh at your roommates response to the question. It had been a weird couple of days since USC faced UConn, usually there wasn’t a lot of buzz around women’s college games but this year was different. The media was all up on everyone, especially UConn since Paige returned in better health for her senior year. You decided to go live to have some fun and interact with your viewers, even though your mind was elsewhere.

“What were your thoughts on how you guys played Connecticut?” You read aloud from the chat. “Um, they’re great. I mean it was pretty close. Me and the girls did what we could and we’re gonna kill it next year, so.” You say, perfectly passive and normal. In your head you were furious at how close the game had been, but there was nothing you could do.

Near the end of the third quarter, you and Paige had a little tussle for possession of the ball. You could’ve sworn you’d gotten it before pale skinned hands darted out for the grab, almost stealing it from you before your instincts kicked in and managed your grip. You vividly remember the yells from teammates, coaches and the stands as you and Paige momentarily wrestled for the ball, her tongue sticking out between her lips and her eyes determined before number 3 on her team tore her away.

Grazing your hand against hers at the end of the game was humiliating, and she was undoubtedly looking forward to it; holding your fingers a moment too long before letting out the most agitating, self-fulfilled “good game” with a smile that would’ve warranted a punch to her teeth had you not been on camera.

You didn’t bother to smile back, but muttered a perfectly timed “bitch” just as her hand let go of yours. Nobody heard it except you and her, and the subtle change in expression from haughty to straight faced was a beautiful sight for sore eyes.

“They keep asking about the thing with Paige.” Your roomie reads, and you shove her. “Bro why’d you say that out loud…now I have to address it.” You whisper to her, annoyed. She wasn’t on the team, and didn’t think about things like that.

She shoots an apologetic look, and you decide to act like nothing happened. The damage is done though, because now all the comments are about Paige.

“You handled the press good after.”

“If I was you I would’ve taken it off the court ngl”

“You were wrong for that!”

“What happened with Paige???”

“The way she was looking at u after….mm”

“Did you see what she said on the panel?”

Scanning through the various questions you found it harder and harder to not think about it. Basketball is a contact sport, things like a fight for the ball weren’t rare. Sure it was a little aggressive, but nothing you weren’t ready for. Paige seemed ready herself, her hands gripping the already-in-your-grasp ball, her eyes shooting you the coldest look they could muster. You’d already seen edits of her all over social media, tousling with you for a moment before being dragged off by Aaliyah.

JuJu walks into your dorm and sits next to you, reading the comments as well. She slightly shakes her head at all the mentions of Paige, but greets the chat nevertheless.

Fuck it. It’s late night, you’ve been getting annoyed by all of this attention on Paige and you, and people weren’t gonna forget about it anytime soon. One comment won’t hurt.

“Did I see what Paige said on the panel?” You read out loud. JuJu shoots you a look. “Yeah…I did. ” You say, suspicious as possible. “Ion know…i jus don’t have much patience for that swiper no swiping shihhh…..stuff.” You mock Paige, then catch yourself before fully saying shit. Two digs at the blonde at UConn in one sentence, one for her statement and the other for her criticism on your swearing.

You, your roommate and JuJu all look at each other for what seems like an eternity before bursting into an explosion of laughter. You were just being petty, it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.

It kinda was.

PRESENT TIME

You’ve always loved east-coast America. It has a different kind of feel, especially during spring. The weather was getting hotter and everyone is hyped for summer break, at least those without classes. You and some of your teammates were going on a little Big East road trip, and of course the east meant places like New York, Michigan, Boston, Rhode Island, Connecticut.

God, you weren’t ready for Connecticut. The media was really eating you and Paige’s (non-existent) beef up, and you wondered if it would translate into real life. What was worse was that you had a friend who went to UConn who you were seeing for sure.

“I am not coming to your school.” You said hastily over the phone.

“Chill.” Elaine, your friend responded. “Nobody wants you here anyways.”

“Shuttuppppp it’s not funny.” You whine, knowing she was joking but hoping there was no truth in the statement. You could handle the smoke of a mini rivalry, but confrontation was just awkward.

“Just be ready. The minute you’re in town let me know, we can go to my favourite bar.” She laughs.

“Got it.” You respond happily. You were gonna have a fun night out, things were gonna be chill. You’d maybe have a drink…maybe get hammered. It was gonna be good.

-

“You should go live.”

“No fucking way.” You shake your head. The bar was crowded, but nice. You understand why your friend wanted to take you.

“Are most of these people UConn kids?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Elaine responds, looking around. “This is like the Storrs hangout spot on a Friday night. Anyways, I’ve missed seeing your lives.”

“I know, I know.” You rub your head. “I literally can’t though. Like, I’m on a social media ban. Goddd, after that last live you don’t get how much shit I got.”

“I thought it was funny!” She says, and you smile. “Oh my god (Name), did you see her tweet after.”

“BYE.” you cover your face, laughing. A couple hours after the live, Paige had tweeted some sort of passive aggressive very targeted thing about how God has her back when people give her a hard time or something like that. You’d almost died when it showed on your TL.

“Have you seen all the edits comparing me n her.” You manage to get out between laughs. Sure, you didn’t have the spectacular reputation Paige did. The girl had started her college career stronger then literally everyone else, and she was top pick to begin with. Her return to the court was well anticipated, even by you.

Still despite that, you had a certain sparkle in game. You played flashy, but you could back it up. Your freshman year you were very much an underdog, a stark difference from Paige, but your sophomore year had been very different, and this year as a junior you were getting recognition that almost gave you whiplash. Your talent was undoubted.

“I think both of you guys are being extra careful on socials now.” Elaine says. “I mean Paige is pretty active, but when they go live the minute your name is brought up, which it always is, she like…mysteriously disappears from view. It’s actually funny.”

“Whatever.” You say, taking a swig of your drink. “As funny as it is, I’m tired of all this shit, it’s unnecessary. Let’s forget about her.”

Elaine lets out a cough, before covering her face. “Pfft. Um, yeah. Let’s forget about it.”

“What….what is it?” You say, raising an eyebrow. Your friends eyes are stuck behind you. When you turn on the barstool as conspicuously as possible, you feel your stomach physically lurch.

“You’re fucking kidding.”

“We have great luck.” Elaine muffles a laugh.

You spin back towards her, talking through bared teeth. “You brought me to Storrs’s most popular bar on a Friday night…Storrs…fuck. That’s their campus? Seriously??!”

“Don’t be mad.” She sheepishly smiles. “I don’t pay that much attention to them…I didn’t think it through.”

“Boo, you whore. Even I know they’re like, bar-fiends.” You grumble, putting your head down. “God, just put your head down, cover me, something. I’m not tryna do this right now.”

Covering your eyes and keeping your back to the group, you ask. “How many of them are here. Tell me exactly who.”

“Umm, I don’t know all of them.” She says.

“Bitch just tell me…I swear to god.” You sneer, casually attempting to turn, discreetly letting your eyes graze the masses before they meet a pair of blue ones.

Shit.

Her eyes hold yours for a moment too long. Her hair is down instead of her signature ponytail and braids. She’s dressed casually, and posed confidently. Her expression is one of surprise…then amusement…and then something you can’t quite recognize. When her friends start to follow her gaze, you finally turn away.

“Elaine, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Calm down, it’s fine. You always say you can handle the smoke, right?”

“Yeah when I’m in California I can…not when I’m in a UConn infested bar with Paige fucking Bueckers and her cult staring me down.”

“They’re really staring. Oh, KK just pointed at you.” Elaine says, looking at them obviously. You fix your posture and adjust your hair at this.

“Are they like…coming over?”

“Yep.” She murmurs under her breath, indicating they’re close.

“Umm, hey.” A voice says from behind you. It’s low, almost raspy. You remember it being way more strained and arrogant on the court. In the bar, it was almost attractive.

“Hey.” You say, as cool as possible. Turning to face Paige and her teammates usually wouldn’t have intimidated you, you could hold your ground and you were confident in yourself, but here? On their turf? With none of your own teammates? And a couple drinks in you? Your body was already tingling, and you were terrified you would say something to dig your hole deeper.

“Think I could get a picture?” Paige says. She sounds likes she’s severely forcing herself, arms crossed and drink already half empty despite just entering the bar. Azzi’s face breaks into an amused smirk beside her, and her other friends hang back with giggly expressions.

“A…picture?” You say, confused. The three of you stare at each other for an awkward moment before you break the silence. “Sorry…that was rude of me, my bad. I just wasn’t expecting that.” You laugh. “If you actually want a picture I can do that for you.”

“Thanks.” Paige smiles, but there’s no happiness behind it. When she poses by you, her hand just hovers above your waist. She can’t even bring herself to touch you. You give your best smile as Azzi takes the picture on Paige’s phone.

When she shows it to the two of you, you realize why Paige might’ve wanted that picture.

“You’re gonna really shock everyone when you post that.” You say, laughing. Paige’s face finally breaks to a more authentic smirk that sends shivers down your spine. It’s like the one she wore when you two were facing each other on the court. Proud, confident, ready for anything.

“Never let em’ know your next move.” She says, eyes piercing yours.

-

As the night goes on the bar gets more and more busy, you have to yell over the music for Elaine to hear you. You’re not exactly trying to talk to her though, because she’s mostly talking about Paige.

“You know she’s sort of a campus heart-throb right?”

“What??” You yell, although you’ve perfectly heard what she’s said.

“She’s. Hot. Maybe you should flirt with her a little.” Elaine says.

You just shake your head. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

Your luck is spectacular for the night, because there are no barstool seats left except one a little too close to Paige, who’s sitting alone and waiting for her drink. You silently curse, but are thankful her team isn’t there too. You sit by her as confidently as possible, avoiding her gaze.

She’s watching you indubitably, noting every move you make. Your posture as you sit, the Polaroid behind your clear phone case, the way your lips move when you ask the bartender for your favourite drink, these are all thinks she seemingly makes note of.

You can’t help but overhear her scoff at your drink choice, to which you finally turn and acknowledge her, raising your eyebrow.

“Out of everything you could’ve ordered you got that?” She says, haughty as ever.

“Not everyone is trying to get white-girl-wasted.” You respond curtly, eyeing her Dirty Shirley.

Paige scoffs. “You don’t talk as big as you do on your lives.”

Shrugging, you respond “Someone asked a question and I answered, simple as that.”

“Ion know bout that one.” She rolls her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you’re just feining for people to talk bout you.”

This bitch. You internally think, brows furrowed at her statement. “Wouldn’t have even been brought up if you hadn’t let your fatass ego get in the way of your media training during that press conference.” You sneer. “Now that is feining for people to talk..”

“Someone asked a question and I answered.” She smiles, sending a hot flash of anger throughout your body. “Simple as that.”

“You think you’re so smart.” You grumble out, turning your head from her. The sheer arrogance is radiating from her body, it’s annoying you to no end.

“I am.” She says, as if it’s common knowledge. “Plus, I’m not the one who started twisting words. That was you, remember?”

When your drink is finally set in front of you, you make a point to get up from the stool and grab it, sending Paige a steely look. “Good talk, Bueckers.”

“Aye, wait a sec.”

You’re already walking away, taking a big gulp of your drink when she slides off of her stool and catches up, walking beside you. You don’t miss how her eyes flick to your mouth when you wipe it clean, facing her begrudgingly.

“Why’re you even here?” She asks. “Visiting yo girlfriend?”

“Who, Elaine?” You laugh, Elaine being the straightest girl you know. “Why’re you so interested?”

“Wasn’t expecting to see some California girl in Storrs. You sure you weren’t plotting on seeing me?” Paige grins, taking a step towards you. She’s taller then you, and the way she tilts her head downwards when she speaks gives you an unrecognizable feeling that you’re planning to blame on the alcohol.

“I got up close and personal with you once, and it was enough.” You smile, holding her stare. She chews on the straw of her Shirley, her expression both amused and something else.

“Ion think so.” She mumbles.

“You don’t have to think.” You respond, looking her up and down for a moment. It feels like an eternity passes as you two challenge each other, the air gets thicker by the minute and you finally break away from her, walking as confidently as you can, far from where she can see you.

-

You don’t see Paige again after that, presumably because her and her friends went elsewhere. Laying in a hotel room next to your teammates, you can’t help but think about the blonde and how odd your interaction was. She had this way of looking at you like she knew exactly what you were thinking, even though you knew damn well she knew nothing except for how you were on the court. Still, despite how her voice made your skin itch and her mannerisms induced the need for violence, there was something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

As if reading your mind, your phone began to vibrate uncontrollably. You check your notifications to see a sea of messages and a couple more alien ones on Instagram.

paigebueckers started following you.

paigebueckers tagged you in their story.

jujubballin sent you a story.

jujubballin sent you a message.

kenzie_4bs sent you a story.

kenzie_4bs sent you a message.

You accept Paige’s request and view her story, which features the picture of you and Paige. You sitting and her standing, her hand just hovering above your waist, her face a curt close-mouthed smile and yours wide and genuine. It’s an interesting photo which she’s captioned “Cali meets Connecticut!”

You scoff at her version of being witty, and immediately cringe at the sheer amount of traction the post has gotten already, with at least 50 people in your inbox within the first 15 minutes of the post coming out. The messages range from “The crossover we needed!!” To “Ik you wanted to punch her white-ass” and frankly it was all too much for you. Social media, Connecticut, the messages, Paige.

She seemed to be the main article of stress in your life the past couple weeks and it seemed to smart to keep a distance from her from this point onward.

The girl really knows how to induce that shock factor.

[marikosenwrites]

﹒⪩nsfw headcanons - karasuno edition

a/n: YES I AM BACK WITH THE NSFW EDITION HAHAHAHA ... yeah i only did five characters because i'm really running out of time before my vacation (two months long) and i assure you my progress will be really slow but i'll still be posting some random shitposts

characters: hinata shouyou, kageyama tobio, sugawara koushi, tsukishima kei, yamaguchi tadashi

gn/fem!reader

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘HINATA SHOUYOU∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

-i would head canon him as the experimental type

-he’s kind of just the softie that looks after you a lot even during sex (and especially during sex)

-not if he goes feral though- (we don’t talk about it)

-mm…if you were sadistic he would enjoy your sadism and be a ma…masochist- (my friends said i was one and i mean i don’t disagree…)

-likes seeing your face!! so doggy style isn’t really that common for you guys

-(i’m actually looking hard into this wait until i get lazy)

-if you or shouyou something find something new- HE’S ALL “OOH CAN WE TRY CAN WE TRY” even if it’s like two in the morning and you have to tell him to quiet down

-“b-but i wanna try!! 🥺🥺🥺”

-and oh man is that face your weakness- you give in anyway

-his aftercare is like the best

-you guys just watch a movie or chill in each other’s arms because it’s comfortable that way

-if you’re only taking a small break i think shouyou would prefer keeping his dick inside of you so he can feel your warm ass walls 🥺🥺

-i don't even know what i'm writing anymore

-would actually only have sex after you're twenty and would make sure that you guys have dated at least a year but if circumstances...

-idk why but he would like to brag about it to kageyama- i mean they *are* rivals after all-

-has incredible stamina

-uh...idk probably into edging?? i'm really unsure with this one

-his moans are uh??? loud

-ALSO REMEMBER THAT ONE TIME HE GOT HIT IN THE BALLS BY A VOLLEYBALL BY KINDAIICHI-

-i'm not elaborating let me pretend he didn't get permanent balls damage

-also try to avoid quickies with hinata he’s going to get overboarded with that shit

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘KAGEYAMA TOBIO∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

-possible power play?

-you like to make fun of him by calling him 'king' and he's gonna be like "stoppp..." and yk it riles him

-sadist

-not really the needy type tbh

-it’s really more of a “how i’m feeling that day”

-but he’s clingier than you expect him to be

-more of the traditional type actually

-doesn’t really experiment much

-he actually puts in effort during sex (i haven’t read enough about this)

-he TRIED during aftercare (keyword is try)

-might try to make you something but cooking isn’t really his forte

-so he gives you cuddles and you guys might just take a bath but that usually leads to another session-

-down for quickies anywhere

-i forgor to mention

-his moans are pretty

-when you guys make eye contact all you see is a hunter eating his prey

-he loves eating you out or vice versa <3

-literal king in bed tbh 😩

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘SUGAWARA KOUSHI∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

-i'd say average when it comes to sex

-really soft with you, and is barely feral

-small grunts and gentle movements against your skin

-you guys would definitely have a safe word

-he gets carried away sometimes...><

-tries to plan everything before hand

-like starting with a date and ending in bed and shit

-possibly breeding kink when you guys are older

-loves being cockwarmed since he feels so warm on the inside <3

-feral-ness 3/10

-not really down for quickies, it's risky

-doesn't like experimenting

-might prefer to keep your sex life private and unlike hinata and kageyama not brag about it

-but the whole team knows of your relationship

-his stamina is just average so usually just a round and a half and he's down and snoring

-aftercare is a must if he isn't that tired

-consists of food, bubble bath, AND TONS OF CUDDLES

-literally an angel

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘TSUKISHIMA KEI∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

-sadist FR.

-he just loves teasing and edging you

-literally when he's helping you with his slim and long ass fingers he stops when he knows you're going to come and goes like

-"you don't think sluts deserve to come, do you?"

-kEiiiii stappppp plz 🥺

-but when he's not edging you he's just a marshmallow

-so fluffy

-OK BUT HIS LONG ASS FINGERS ARE HELL BECAUSE HE GETS TO TEASE YOU ENDLESSLY

-that tall ass blond is gonna tease you endlessly about your height (this hc is both nsfw and sfw)

-pretty moans though <3 probably gives you goosebumps

-there probably is a safe word

-PHONE SEX PHONE SEX PHONE SEX RAHHHH I'M GOING CRAZY HEAR ME OUT

-OK WHAT IF HE'S AT CAMP AND HE JUST CALLS YOU BECAUSE HE FEELS HORNY AND YOU GUYS *lip biting*

-ya get what comes next he guides you to touching yourself and vice versa <33333

-but it's not that often he VOLUNTARILY goes to camp (he also wouldn't call you during the potential youth training camp thing)

-down for quickies anywhere

-i feel like he would be into getting caught by both girls and boys because now they know you belong to him and he belongs to you

-sooo yeah <3 ain't he lovely

-his teasing is crazy btw if you hadn't gathered that from the anime that is like "who said you could come, slut?" and "yeah baby, doing well-" it's like two hell and heaven differences

-his aftercare is amazing though because he shows his soft side

-lightest teasing maybe

-protecc at all costs

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘YAMAGUCHI TADASHI∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

-masochist for a change bc well kei

-really really really gentle with you during sex

-safe word needed!! he gets overboard sometimes

-doesn't really moan that much contrasting to public opinion

-more groans and grunts

-loves to be cock-warmed

-no quickies nuh-uh

-kind of afraid of getting caught to be honest

-no kinks though tadashi's average when it comes to sex

-no phone sex either i guess he's the type of guy that FIRMLY believes that his cum only belongs in your pussy and nowhere else

-squeezes you hard when he comes

-i really shouldn't be doing this at school when i'm supposed to be working but integrity doesn't exist

-i hc that if you want to experiment smth with him

-he would do it with you <3

-overall a fluffy relationship

©marikosenwrites 2023-2024 all rights reserved. i do not own any of the haikyuu characters mentioned. please do not repost on any other platforms or translate them. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcomed! <3

tell me if you want more characters!

[scarlethexelove]

Hello!! 👀

This is like an extension of something I’ve already requested. ‘You’re Mine Now’ was awesome

I absolutely love dark Agatha and if you’re okay with writing it, it’d be much appreciated 🙏🏻 Okay so… Maybe Agatha and Reader already have a dynamic that works for Agatha. Agatha is happy because Reader behaves very well so Reader is allowed to do more things in the house. Then, Reader watches on TV that her best friend is looking for her, it is like a switch is turned on and Reader wants to escape. Agatha realizes it and stops her. Agatha tells Reader that she (Agatha) couldn't let nobody take her precious treasure so she had to make that person disappear. Then fucks reader 🫣 Sorry this is pretty long but yeah! I would like to read it if you are okay with writing this. Totally cool if you’re not ofc

You're Not Going Anywhere

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2088

Warnings: Dark!Agatha, Smut, Spanking, Restraints, Cum Strap, Rough Sex, Forced Submission, Dub/Con, No aftercare, Talks of murder, Choking (Not the fun way).

Part 1: You're Mine Now

A/n: I really hope you enjoy this nonnie. I tried to make her nice and dark with this one. I kind of feel the smut is kind of shit and I'm sorry about that.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Soft sounds play through the air as you watch the tv. The room is dark only illuminated by the beams of light spilling from the sides of the curtains. You know it might not be the best idea to ignore Agatha’s wishes for you to clean the house but you just want to be lazy today. You haven’t even managed to get out of your pajamas today. Your mind barely focused on the tv as you almost stared pass the tv. 

Words start scrolling on the bottom of the tv as your program is interrupted, pulling your focus to the tv. You watch as the scene changes. A woman you find familiar talking to a news anchor appears on the screen. The words scrolling on the bottom states that a woman has been kidnapped and missing for six months. You look back up a picture of yourself now displayed on the side of the screen. It’s in an instant that your suppressed mind comes back to reality. That is your best friend. You’re the woman that is missing and people are looking for you. You hadn’t even noticed that you had been gone for six long months. You’re mind submitting to that of the older woman who has kept you captive. 

You quickly jump off the couch and look at the time. Three hours till Agatha comes home. You have time to pack some things and run. A few months back Agatha had removed some of the locks off the door to keep you here. You have become compliant with her wants and needs. No urge to run from the woman, only the thought of love for her keeping you there. You didn’t see the reason to run from someone taking such good care of you. But now it is like the spell is broken and you have to get away. You remember the horrible things that she did to get you here and you need to run now while you have a chance. 

You make your way into the bedroom grabbing some things. What you didn’t know is that Agatha was watching you. Camera’s scattered all around the house so she can watch you even while at work. She curses as she grabs her jacket leaving work and rushing home to you. If you think you can leave her you are wrong. She will just have to show you again who is in charge and who you belong to. 

Once you're done you finally turn around ready to leave but you hadn’t noticed the clicking of the door behind you. Startled when you see the older woman standing behind you. A gasp leaves your throat before a hand is placed around it. Squeezing tightly and walking you backwards. You grasp at the hand around your neck the more it squeezes. Digging your nails into her arm hoping that she will let go, but there is a fury in her eyes. 

“Please.” You whimper while still struggling against her. She slams your body back against the wall making you whimper more. “You think you can leave me, little girl? I own you. You’re not going anywhere.” Agatha hisses. You can feel yourself getting lightheaded the longer she holds your neck. The woman is much stronger than you so your struggle is futile, her grip never loosening. 

When your vision starts to blur and black spots appear in your vision Agatha finally loosens the grip. Tossing your body on the bed like a rag doll. You cough and sputter as air fills your lungs. Your hand placed against your neck feeling the tenderness of the flesh. Your voice is hoarse as you try to speak. “I just wanna go home.” A dark chuckle leaves the woman. “You are home sweet girl.” 

Agatha is on you in an instant, pulling the shackles out. You kick and scream trying your best to fight off the woman, but it is no use. She flips your body over easily so that you are laying on your stomach. Securing both of your ankles to the bed. She then moves and secures your wrist to the bed. Leaving your spread eagle on the bed. 

“I’m going to have to punish you baby girl.” Agatha’s hand smooths over the curve of your ass. You squirm as her hand touches you. She grabs your pants and underwear and pulls them down swiftly. Bunched up around your thighs as she grabs your ass harshly. “I think 20 each side will do. Now count whore.” Her voice is dark and dripping with venom. Agatha’s hand comes down hard. “O-one.” You cry out. Her hands are rough the more she slaps down hard on your ass.

Your tears stain the sheets below the longer she goes. Your ass is a bright red, tender and hot to the touch. You’re cries and screams only egging the woman on. You have stopped counting but she doesn’t seem to mind anymore. Relishing in the pleasure she gets from your pain. By the end you have no more fight left in you. Your body is already exhausted from the beating. “P-please. No more.” You whimper hoping the woman will hear you. She stops her hand smoothing over your ass which makes you cry out in pain. 

“Are you going to behave from now on?” Agatha asks you, her hands moving down to gently caress your tights. Her hand sliding between feeling that unmistakable wetness, smirking to herself. You nod your head, mind already fuzzy. Throat sore and scratchy from the beating you had just taken. She would normally ask you to speak up but she can see that the fight you had not that long ago is gone. 

You’re relieved when the bed feels lighter. Agatha shifting her weight and removing herself from the mattress. You can hear some shuffling and you turn your head trying to look. Tears still fall, blurring your vision slightly. You can’t see her but the bed dips again as a hand rubs your ass again making you whine and squirm. “So pretty like this.” Agatha leans down and whispers in your ear. 

Agatha’s weight shifts on the bed again. She moves between your legs. She grabs your pants and underwear that is on your thighs. You hear the sound of fabric ripping as she tears your clothes off of you. “You’re fucking mine you hear me?” Agatha leans over you, a weight slapping on your ass. You whimper and nod. “Yes. I’m yours.” She leans back up towering over you. “Good girl.” The weight that once sat on your ass she now swipes through your folds wet with your arousal. Spreading it up and down and coating her strap. 

You have no time to register Agatha’s actions as she lines up with your entrance and thrust the faux cock inside of you. You cry out at the deliciously painful stretch. It’s bigger than what you have taken before. She starts a hard and fast pace, fucking into your tight hole. “Fuck your taking me to well.” She slaps your ass again, enjoying the hiss of pain that leaves your lips. Her hand moving you and wrapping around the back of your neck pushing your face further into the mattress. 

Right now she doesn’t care about your pleasure, only her own. Fucking into you with reckless abandon. “So fucking tight no matter how many times I fuck you.” Her hips slapping against your ass making you whimper and moan. “You wouldn’t survive without me. Just a dumb stupid whore.” You’re already clenching around her strap the faster she drives her hips into you. Your pleasure heightened by the pain. 

Agatha leans over you pressing her front into your back still holding your face down rutting into you. “You fucking try to leave me again I’ll kill you. You don’t get another chance, little girl. I told you’re mine and if I can’t have you no one can. You know that little friend of yours? I saw that she was looking for you. I took care of that little problem. I saw her little TV stunt. I wanted to see what your dumb little brain would do if you knew so I recorded it. Let it play for you. So stupid thinking you could get away.” She whispers in your ear. More tears slip down your face. You’re trapped here forever you know the woman wouldn’t lie. You’re her property now and there is no one else left to save you. 

It is better to let your mind submit now. Let her be your one and only. You’ll be safer that way. “I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I-I’ll never try again. I’m you-yours.” She smiles, kissing your shoulder before leaning back up and pounding into you. Her hand still smacks against your ass occasionally. Your sounds spur her on to continue. 

You let all your thoughts melt away. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips, the squelching sound of Agatha pounding into your pussy mixing in. You submit as she pushes you into your subspace. Babbling how you are hers and sorrys for trying to leave. She just smirks above you. Her test didn’t go quiet as she hoped but she has you now. The perfect obedient little housewife. Cooking and cleaning for her then being the perfect little fleshlight for her to use. 

Agatha’s thrust becomes more erratic as the harness brushes against her clit perfectly. Her need to cum approaching fast. “Mmm fuck. I’m going to fill this little pussy. So fucking tight.” Her hands move to grip your waist digging in her fingers, sure to leave bruises behind. You’re confused by her words but that thought melts away when she hits that spot deep inside you. The sight of your tear stained face and your reddened ass cheeks sends her over the edge. As she cums her hand moves and you feel a gush of liquid fill you up. Your own orgasm then washing over you. 

The realization of what she meant as you feel so full. Cum leaking out around her strap as she doesn’t slow down. Continuing to pound into you roughly. “Aggie.” You whine hoping she will stop but she doesn’t. You can only see part of her but there is an animalistic look to her. She is going to keep filling you whether you want her to or not. Her thrust rough and hard as fucks you even further into submission. 

You don’t know how many times you cum or how many times she has filled you by the time she stops. You're both panting and sweaty messes. Your whole body hurts from her roughness and the marks she has left on you. You whimper when she removes her strap from your overstimulated aching core. She isn’t gentle about it like normal. She slaps your bruised ass once more before climbing off the bed. The mix of your cums leaking out of you onto the sheets below, as your gaping hole clenches around nothing trying to keep the cum in. 

Your eyes droop as your fuzzy mind listens for her movement around the room. You expect her to release you from your restraints and to clean you up. To place ointment on your bruised ass but it doesn’t come. “I’ve been so kind to you baby girl. Let’s see how you like it if I leave you as a mess. The dumb cumrag you were always meant to be. Maybe you’ll learn your lesson.” Agatha’s harsh tone filters through your ears. You cry out for her. You want her comfort and her soft touches. 

The door slams shut moments later leaving you in darkness. You continue to cry as your body shakes. You want her to come back to comfort you and tell you that you are her good girl. Promise you’ll never do it again. But your mind is tired as your struggle to stay awake. Your whimpers for the woman become quiet as you drift off into a deep sleep. 

What you don’t know is that Agatha is sitting on the other side of the door. Listening and watching you. An evil smirk playing on her lips. She has finally broken you completely and all it took was showing you that you can’t leave her. She had to punish you in order to break that last bit of hope deep in your mind. Soon she will have you as her perfect little housewife. Destined to be with her, tied to her forever.

[mykoreanlove]

Deceptive bonds

Changbin’s house parties were notorious for all kind of things: snoring coke on the bathroom tiles, messy sex in confined closets and serious philosophy discussions over the kitchen counter. You would never admit this to others but secretly you were proud to have participated in all those activities. Weren’t your college years made for that?

Today’s party provided you with a new experience though – a smooth and comfortable make out session with your boyfriend amidst dozens of eyes.

You were sitting on Felix’ lap giggling and kissing, touching him as much as you could. The two of you haven’t been dating for very long, hence you were all over each other without having a care in the world.

You admired everything about him: his blonde hair that fell into his chocolate brown eyes, the countless freckles on his cheeks or heart shaped lips that made your heart flutter everytime they landed on your skin. Felix’ grip on your hips tightened as he distracted your train of thought.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Love.

He didn’t know you that long, but he already gave you the world’s most significant nickname. Warmth spread in your body, and you smiled comfortingly. “Just how much I like you.”

His lips turned up before they crashed on yours, eliciting a storm of butterflies within you.

Being with Felix was nice – it felt safe and comfortable.

Your mind started to wander as you noticed how different it felt from what you were used to with…

“Get up.”

His voice was deep and underscored with rage. Felix broke off the kiss and stared at his friend in bewilderment. It took you a second before you were able to make eye contact with him – he always had you enslaved with one of his glances.

Hyunjin didn’t even look at you, his eyes stared directly at Felix. “They are waiting for you. You signed up for beer pong, remember?”

Felix sighed in annoyance. “Oh shoot, shit.” He turned around and flashed you his brightest smile. “Y/N, will you be okay for a while? I have to go show them how it’s done, Aussie style!”

He was so excited, you could never say no.

“Go. Show them how it’s done, angel.”

Hyunjin flinched at your nickname for his best friend but luckily no one noticed. Felix kissed you quickly and made his way to the outside, ready to give it his all.

After he left, Hyunjin finally acknowledged you. He held out his hand to you, waiting for you to take it.

You stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“We need to talk. Now.”

The rage in his voice was nothing compared to the one in his eyes – they were darker than the night.

You got up and slapped his hand away. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

As you made your way to the kitchen, you passed the closet in which you went down on your knees for him once. You came to a halt and watched the pantry as memories of that steamy night flooded your consciousness.

It didn’t take Hyunjin much time to come after you, so he yanked you into the closet with him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

The space was anything but narrow, not a single piece of paper would have fit between the two of you. His scent clouded your vision just as it did back then. Hyunjin was breathing heavily, his chest was heaving with a lot of emotions.

“Am I out of my mind? Are you? Y/N, are you for real?”

There was so much emotion in his voice, yet you had trouble identifying what it was. Even though the inside of the closet was barely lit, you were still able to see him clearly. His porcelain skin was framed by his dark clothes and red hair, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenched. You pinched yourself and winced at the pain.

“See? That hurt. I am real, yes.”

He rolled his eyes at you in annoyance.

“I can’t believe you. You’re dating Felix?!”

You smirked. “Yeah, I am. Why do you care though?”

He was getting more agitated by the second.

“Why do -I- care? You’re dating my best friend when it should have been me!”

Now you were the one rolling your pretty eyes at him.

“Oh please. Spare me the bullshit, Hyunjin.”

He took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves.

“Listen. I know what this looks like and I- “

“Oh, do you?”, you snapped at him angrily. You both glared at each other as if you were going to rip off each other’s heads.

Or pants.

“Don’t”, he gritted through his teeth.

You chuckled maniacally. “Don’t what? Tell you how much I like you? That I’m in love with you? That I want us to be more? Don’t worry, we already did that play.”

Memories of you begging him to choose you flooded your mind. Hyunjin and you were a thing for a couple of weeks – you considered those weeks to be the best ones of your life. Being with him felt exciting, thrilling, and unstable. He always kept you on edge, never letting you know what he was up to. That love you shared was obsessive, passionate, and mind-blowing, just like the orgasms he gave you. But that was all he had to offer as Hyunjin denied you more of him.

“Is that why you’re dating him now?” You could have sworn to detect vulnerability in his tone.

“Can you really blame me?” He didn’t say a word. You sighed heavily.

“Felix makes me happy. I feel safe with him, like I can rely on him. He’s a good guy and I think I deserve that.”

He furrowed his brows, thinking a thousand thoughts at the same time. Hyunjin didn’t find the right words to say, so he let his body speak for him. His slender fingers grabbed your wrists and traced patterns on the soft skin.

“Is that really what you want?”, his tone was soft, barely a whisper.

His touch alone was enough to make your mind go blank. You didn’t dare to look at his eyes in fear of what you could do.

“Y/N”, he whispered your name, “look at me. Please.”

You tilted your head and looked into his enticing eyes – the rage was gone and substituted with longing.

“I know what I said to you back then. And back then, I really meant it. But now…”

His hands trailed up your arms and laced behind your neck, pulling you close to him. “Now that I see you with him, I can’t help myself. I had no idea that I want you like that, y/n.”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, his eyes set on seducing you. “You should be sitting on my lap, baby. Just like you used to. Remember how you did that? Remember what we did in here?”

You felt like suffocating. He was taking your breath away.

“Stop”, you muttered.

He grinned innocently. “I won’t do anything, y/n. Felix is still my friend, after all.” You felt your shoulders relax, feeling like you escaped the danger.

For now.

“But- “, his lips traced your throat slightly, “I’ll be waiting, baby.”

You didn’t understand. “Waiting? For what?”

He was oozing arrogance, laughing against your skin.

“We both know how this is going to end. Number one – he is going to fuck this up. I know him, y/n. There is more to him than his angelic persona. Or number two- “.

He backed off a bit and placed his thumb on your lips, slightly applying pressure. “You’ll get bored very quickly. He is safety and I am danger and I know how much you crave that adrenaline that only I can give to you.”

You didn’t even realize you were sucking on his thumb, too engulfed by the words he said. You slapped his thumb away as soon as you realized, looking down feeling ashamed.

“That’s right, baby”, he chuckled mischievously before exiting the closet, “I know what you truly want. Don’t make me wait too long.”

[mattsmunchkin]

the alchemy.

kk harvey X reader

warnings: cussing, use of y/n

author’s note: this is my first time writing ff so please bare with me and PLEASE give me feedback! i’m currently obsessed with kk harvey so expect more of these. also, give me ideas!!

disclaimer: i saw one like this about paige bueckers but i cannot remember the name of the author. i was planning on writing this before i discovered her fic so please don’t think that i copied them in ANY way!!

this happens once every few lifetimes.

you and kk have been dating for about 7 months.

you were freshly out of a toxic relationship when you met. obviously you weren’t ready for any kind of commitment at the time, as you were too scared you’d be caught in toxicity once again.

you originally found her on tiktok and immediately started following her and keeping up with her. she took the step and reached out to you. and the rest is history.

the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that i ever had. i circled you on a map. i haven’t come around in so long, but i’m coming back so strong.

that was over two years ago. now you’re sitting in the bleachers of the ice rink about to watch your girlfriend and her team play in the national championship.

you’re sat with your best friend as you watch the players skate around the rink. you’re wearing the badgers hockey hoodie kk had given you when you moved to california for school.

you originally told kk you wouldn’t be able to make it. you had a final coming up that would make or break if you passed the class or not. obviously she was upset, this was the biggest game of her career and her girlfriend wouldn’t be there to witness it. not to mention you also live across the country studying political science at ucla. so she rarely gets to see you anyways.

“are you sure you can’t make it up somehow?” her tone desperate as she tries to find a solution.

“i wish there was a way baby. i tried so hard but there’s no way i can make it.” you say, fighting back tears. you hated missing something so important to her.

“i’ll play extra hard for you love,” she says after a pause, “i’m bringing that trophy home for you.”

you smile as a tear falls down your cheek.

“i’m so proud of how far you’ve come caroline. i know you’ll make me and your team proud.” you hear a sniffle through the phone. good to know this was equally hard for both of you.

what she didn’t know was that your professor had canceled the final. the reason being he “forgot to make it.” when you found out you immediately booked a flight to madison for the game.

you decided not to tell kk and to keep it a surprise. knowing it would either cheer her up if they lost or make the win just that much better.

the buzzer loudly sounds, indicating that opening remarks are about to begin.

she hasn’t spotted you yet. her being too focused on the game and you hidden in the chaos of the stands.

the national anthem ends and you notice her kiss her hand and touch the heart pin on the front of her jersey. you had bought it for her a couple of months ago and she promised to wear it to every game.

cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me.

the periods go by painfully slow as both teams ruthlessly try to be the first to score. it’s nearing the end of the game and you’re starting to get nervous if they’re gonna pull through. you see kk getting frustrated at her failed attempts to score.

you know she is trying her best as you watch her play the hardest she ever has. living up to the promise she made you on that phone call.

the clock is ticking and kk is put in to what might be her last play of the season.

“holy shit i can’t watch.” you cover your eyes just to uncover them immediately after. you’re standing up, anxious as ever.

“y/n, it’s fine they got this. you know they do.” your friend says from beside you as she grabs your hand. you squeeze it as you watch kk skate towards the goal with the puck.

“come on caroline.” you say to yourself, watching her intently.

you hold your breath as she shoots it into the net, making it past the goalie.

you immediately jump up and yell as you watch kk’s teammates rush over to her in a fit of cheers and chants. they lift her up and the crowd erupts. you grab your friend in a hug and tears fill your eyes. you can see the smile on kk’s face from the bleachers.

your friends lift you up over their heads. cheers chanted, cause they said there was no chance, trying to be the greatest in the league.

the award ceremony is quick as they hand out trophies and mvp award. kk obviously winning it.

by that time you made your way down by the glass of the rink. the crowd erupts again as the badgers lift up the national championship trophy towards the stands.

kk spots you and the smile on her face somehow grows bigger than it already was.

she skates towards the door in front of you and swings it open as she takes you in her arms. she hugs you as if she was never letting go.

“how the hell did you get here? what about your final?”

“don’t worry about it baby it all worked out.” you hug her back like she was oxygen. she lets out a breathless laugh as she squeezes your waist.

“thank you so much for coming and flying across the country. thank you for everything.” she says as her voice cracks.

“i’m so proud of you caroline. i hope you know that” her arms tighten around you. she needed to hear that.

you let go and look around, a confused look on your face.

“where’s the trophy?” you look back at her. her eyes never leaving you.

“i got the only prize i need right here.”

who are we to fight the alchemy?

[greenfuls-secret-chambers]

Hi everyone! Long time no see! I recently hopped on Legacy again and immediately got lost once again in the rabbit hole. After talking to a few AI bots I couldn’t help but get inspired.

So futher ado..

Let me give you a sneak peak and the first part of my new fic:

Warnings : MDNI, Smut below!

Currently at 1700 words

Aged up characters (7 years after graduation)

An Unexpected Reuinion

7 years. It had been 7 years since you had walked into Hogsmead. Graduation had seemed like only yesterday.

Walking into The Three Broom Sticks, the smell of butter beer and warm pasties hit your nose. The smell was nostalgic, bringing back a flood of memories. You couldn’t help but smile, remembering all those nights you, Ominis, and Sebastian had shared a drink together in this very place. Speaking of the two, it had been ages since you had heard from Ominis, last time you exchanged letter, he brought exciting news of a child. Him and Anne had settled down, in a cozy cottage outside of Feldcroft. Sebastian on the other hand… well you haven’t heard as much as a peep from him in 7 years. You couldn’t help but ponder on what happened to him..

Sebastian sat in a corner at the far side of the pub, sipping on his drink. It had been a long week at the Ministry. Working as a curse breaker, he barely had time for himself, he always felt so worn out and it seems he was missing more and more sleep as the days went on. Watching everyone around him, he couldn’t help but do a double take at the familiar witch who has just walked through the doors.

You had walked up to the bar, exchanging hellos with the bartender and ordered yourself a firewhiskey. Sitting down on the worn out stool, sipping your drink, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Well well well… if it isn’t the famous y/n..”

There he was, after all these years Sebastian Sallows was standing in-front of you with that shit eating grin.

“S-Sebastian! Merlin, it’s been ages!” You immediately stood up from your seat and gave him a warm hug, noticing he had bulked up since the last time you had seen him. “What have you been up to Sallow?!”

After pulling away from your welcoming embrace he smiles at you, “I could ask you the same thing y/n.” He couldn’t help but take in your figure. You’d had grown into such a beautiful young woman.

“You look good.” He said with a sly grin.

His compliment made your stomach flip. You couldn’t help the small smile that form on your face. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Trying to keep calm and collected you sat back down on the still and motioned for him to sit next to you. “So, did you end up taking that job at the Ministry as a curse breaker?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Of course I did. I couldn't resist the thrill of breaking curses and exploring ancient tombs. It suits me quite well, if I do say so myself."

He took a seat on the stool next to you. "And you? What have you been up to all these years? Still getting into trouble, I presume?"

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, “Me getting into trouble? No way! I’m pretty sure sure you were the one always in trouble, I just happened to be an innocent bystander!”

You playfully slap his arm. “I’ve been traveling around the world looking for more ancient traces of magic.”

You let out a sigh. “I’m trying to add to Miriam’s work in hopes of figuring more out.” Your take a sip of your firewhiskey.

Sebastian gives you a look of melancholy, before rubbing your shoulder. “Both of them would be proud.”

Trying to lighten the mood he takes a sip of his drink and smiles. “So where have you exactly traveled? Tell me everything!”

Your eyes can’t help but sparkle. “I recently just returned from Rome. There were some amazing traces of ancient magic.” You’re smiling like crazy, it had been a great time and the amount of research you were able to do was incredible. “Hell, I even ended up in a couple of tombs… nothing that I’m not used to because of a certain someone.” You look directly at him with a teasing smirk.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes playfully, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Rome, huh? Always thought you'd end up somewhere more... exotic." He teased. "But I shouldn't be surprised, you yourself are full of surprises."

He paused for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. "You know, I've been thinking about visiting Rome myself... maybe we could go together sometime."

You smile at him, “I’m thinking about going back next year…. And honestly there’s a few places you would be helpful as a curse breaker..”

You take a drink of the fire whiskey that had been forgotten about in the excitement.

He grins, intrigued by the idea of accompanying you. He leans back slightly, crossing his arms.

"Is that so? Well, it sounds like a plan then!" He says jokingly, but there's a hint of sincerity in his voice.

You take your last sip of your drink. Sitting the glass down with clink. “So, how’s Ominis? Last I heard him and Anne were expecting child!”

Sebastian's face lights up with excitement.

"It's amazing! Ominis and Anne are over the moon. The both of them has a knack for parenting."

He grins widely, "I can't wait to see my little niece next week. I can’t help but spoil her rotten."

You can’t help but wonder if Sebastian has settled down himself. He hasn’t mentioned a wife or children..

“So… what about you? Have you settled down yet?”

Part of you doesn’t want to know. You’d be lying if you said it wouldn’t sting a little if he has settled down.

He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Settled down? Me? Nah, I'm still too wild and free for that." He says jokingly. "I've had a few flings here and there, but nothing serious. I guess I'm just waiting for the right person to come along and tie me down."

Your can’t help but let out a laugh,”Merlin bless her, whoever she turns out to be!”

He chuckles along with you, then leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes.

"And what about you, hm? Still the infamous heartbreaker, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind you wherever you go?"

Letting out a somewhat tired sigh you sheepishly respond. “It’s hard to have a relationship when I’m always traveling, it seems most men want me to settle down and take care of a home and a lot of kids… I’m just not done seeing the world ya know?”

Sebastian nods understandingly, his expression turning serious for a moment.

"I get it. You're a free spirit, always seeking adventure and excitement. It's not easy to find someone who can keep up with that. But it doesn't mean you have to give up on relationships completely."

He looks at you intently, his voice softening. "You deserve to be happy, no matter what that looks like for you."

You flash him a kind smile. “Thanks for that Sebastian..”

He smiles back, his heart warming at the sight of your smile. He gently takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

"No need to thank me, love. Just speaking the truth."

The Three Broom sticks starts to pick up, it seems every witch and wizard is out for a drink. The conversations of others seem to bounce off the walls of the pub. You can feel yourself getting a headache.

“Well.. I guess I’ll be on my way.. it’s getting late and I’ve been traveling all day.”

You start to think about finding an Inn or a place to stay. “I actually need to find a room while I’m in town, and I’m losing daylight.”

Sebastian notices your discomfort and the growing crowd around you. “Wait… I have an extra room at my place. You can stay there for the night."

You look at Sebastian with a shocked but appreciative smile. “Oh Seb, I couldn’t impose like that!”

He rolls his eyes playfully, squeezing your hand gently. "You're not imposing, I insist. My place is closer than any inn, and I have plenty of room. Plus, I could use the company."

You bite your lip, pondering on the offer. “Well.. if it isn’t a problem then.. okay why not.”

You throw some money on the counter to pay for the drinks as well as leave enough for a tip.

“Alright, then lead the way.”

The two of you made your way out of the pub, walking through Hogsmead. The summer night was almost blissful. A breeze moved around you as you walked and continued to share about your work and travels. Now along the outskirts of town, you were faced with a small cozy cottage. The garden looked well kept and light shone through the windows.

“You’re home is lovely Sebastian.” You felt a since of proud wash over you. It seems he has been doing well for himself.

Sebastian chuckles. “Thanks. I do my best to keep it tidy looking.”

Sebastian walks up to the door and opens it. He motions for you to enter. “Ladies first…”

As soon as you walk inside, the smell of books and leather hit your senses. It smells as warm and cozy as it looks.

“The spare bedroom is just down the hall and too the left. I imagine you’re tired so I won’t keep you.” He says softly.

Looking at him you smile. “Thank you again… I’ll see you in the morning… goodnight.”

You make your way down the hall and into the bedroom. You set your things on the floor next to the bed and softly shut the door.

You feel into the bed bed, finally taking a much needed deep breath.

What a day it’s been. Running into Sebastian wasn’t a thought in your mind. Not to mention how deviously handsome he turned out to be. He has really grown into a fine man.. with his strong arms and broad shoulders… thinking about his face and the freckles that danced across it you wondered If they continued down his chest… maybe even lower…

You couldn’t help yourself from running your hand over your breast and slowly down to your now aching core…

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 12) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Chapter 12

Saintess.

You look down at Kazuo’s one-word text, your stomach twisting. You’ve got no idea where he got that name, or what question he was ordered to ask that led him to it. You text back. Is that even a real word?

The question was whether the League of Villains has allies beyond those who were present at Kamino. Kazuo texts back slowly. Too slowly. The typing bubble seems to hover forever. I was unable to give them any more information about the villain known as Saintess.

Kazuo’s careful with his words. If he framed the question that way, then your name would be excluded – even though you pal around with villains, even though you’re the girlfriend of the League’s ringleader, you haven’t committed a crime. The word ‘villain’ wouldn’t apply to you, which means you’re safe. Thank you.

We need to talk in person. Tonight.

Why?

I’ll meet you after work.

Meeting you after work means he’s coming to your workplace, after work. Whatever this is, it’s important. And it’s going to clash with one of your other plans, which is also important – and a lot harder to get out of. You hate yourself as you ask the question. How long will it take?

As long as it needs to. Kazuo doesn’t really get irritated anymore, but you can remember what it used to feel like when you pissed him off. Do you have somewhere to be?

You do, actually. Tenko is supposed to negotiate with Overhaul tonight, and he wants you to be there with him. Overhaul wants you there, too – when you listened in on the phone call, you heard him mention “the one in grey” specifically. What is this about?

The Shie Hassaikai.

Shit. Hold on.

You turn to nudge Tenko awake and find him watching you through half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, he sleeps like a log. He barely stirred when your alarm went off. “Who are you talking to?”

“My friend Kazuo.” You brace yourself. “I can’t go with you to meet Overhaul. I have to meet him instead.”

Tenko doesn’t look happy, and he’s still half-asleep. It’s going to get worse. “You have to go with me. He asked for you specifically. If you don’t go, he’ll suspect something.”

“Tell him we can’t tonight,” you say. “Even if we’re supposed to be allies, we shouldn’t jump just because he says so. That looks suspicious, too.”

“Maybe.” Tenko looks like he’s considering it for a second. Then he shakes his head. “Tell your friend you can’t.”

“I can’t do that. I have to meet him.”

Tenko’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“He has a quirk called Search Engine. He works for the HPSC gathering intel.” You try to figure out a good way to phrase it, then realize there isn’t one. “He knows about you and me.”

“And he’s a hero?”

“Not exactly.” You wonder if there’s anything else Tenko needs to know. “It’s not relevant, but I dated him in high school.”

“What?” Tenko looks like he’s going to blow a fuse. You’re pretty sure the structural integrity of everything he’s touching is in danger at the moment, regardless of the gloves. “He’s blackmailing you. That’s why you have to go. I’ll kill him.”

“He’s not blackmailing me.” You can’t let Tenko meet Kazuo. You can’t let anything happen to your old friends because of your new ones. “He’s been telling me how to stay clear of his searches. This morning he texted me to let me know that my code name popped up, but nothing else.”

“He’s a hero, but he’s helping you,” Tenko repeats. His expression darkens. “He likes you. That’s why. Do you like him?”

“He’s my friend,” you say, exasperated. “Half the reason I dated him because he reminded me of you.”

Tenko coughs. “What?”

You decide to pretend you didn’t say that. You unlock your phone and show Tenko the conversation in question. “He has information about Overhaul. We need that. Before we meet him?”

“Why would he know you needed information about Overhaul? What does his quirk do?”

“Search Engine – it lets him find the answer to any question he asks,” you say. Tenko looks – well, you’re not sure how to classify that expression. Somewhere between skeptical, pissed, and panicked. Whatever it is, it’s uncomfortable. “The problem is that it’s hard to come up with a query that excludes every answer except the one you’re looking for. And all that information comes in at the same time, so it’s hard to sort through. He –”

You trail off, trying to figure out how to explain. “He went to UA, but they pushed him too hard. His mind broke down and he dropped out, but the HPSC conscripted him to help find you. And since I’m with you, and I’m his friend, he’s helping me avoid getting caught.”

“Which means helping me, too.” Tenko looks really skeptical now. “I don’t buy it. No hero would help you if it meant helping me at the same time.”

“He’s not a hero,” you say. “The heroic system ruined his life.”

That seems to land a little better with Tenko than your previous explanations. He hands your phone back to you. “So he knows something about the Hassaikai that he wants to tell you,” he says. You nod. “And the stuff he’s told you before has been useful.”

You nod again. “Then I’ll tell Overhaul to shove it,” Tenko decides. A smirk crosses his faith at the thought. “We’ll meet him tomorrow instead. He’s not the only ally we’re considering. He can wait his fucking turn.”

You text Kazuo back, confirming the meetup while Tenko reads over your shoulder. At first he’s just looking. Then his chin notches against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist. He’s wearing the gloves he went to bed in, and you let him rustle around for a few moments, getting so close he’s practically glued to your back. That’s going to be a problem in a few minutes. You have to go to work. But at the same time, you aren’t ready to go just yet. Lately you only feel normal when you’re with him.

“That guy,” Tenko says after a minute or so. “Did you really date him because he reminded you of me?”

“I was always going to be friends with him, but he made me think of you, and that’s part of why I dated him.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You don’t like thinking about how much of your life has been marked by losing Tenko. “He was what I imagined you’d be like. If nothing had changed.”

You hadn’t realized that there was something else to it at first. Kazuo was brilliant, and he was funny, and he was kind. Half the girls in your class had a crush on him, but he wound up with you, because you made sure you were there. If there was something he needed, you had it. If he needed a partner for an assignment, you were right there, on top of everything, ready to pitch in and make sure his ideas shone. If he wanted to talk, you dropped everything to listen. You weren’t playing a part; more auditioning for one. The job of Kazuo’s sidekick, in theory. In practice, his girlfriend.

He was your second boyfriend. Your first one was an asshole who cheated on you with Mitsuko, who dropped him when she found out and made you drop him, too. That was how the two of you met, and you’re still amazed that the two of you are friends rather than mortal enemies. Kazuo was different than that, almost perfect, a version of Tenko all grown up, without the scratching and the father who shouted and a heroic quirk. You know he loved you, and you were close even after the two of you broke up, until UA pushed his quirk past its limit. And you loved him, too, in a way that was probably healthier than the way you – feel – for Tenko. Like Kazuo said, all those months ago: He never tried to kill you. And you’d never step in front of a bullet for him.

“What I would have been like,” Tenko repeats. “You must have been disappointed when you saw how I turned out.”

You elbow him lightly. “What part of me chasing you down the street said ‘I’m disappointed’? Don’t be dumb.”

“Don’t fall in love with any more heroes, then.” Tenko lifts your phone out of your hands, drops it somewhere in the blankets on the bed, and pulls you back down with him. “I already locked it down.”

He’s kissing you, one of his hands flirting with the edge of your shirt, slipping beneath it. You touch the screen of your phone and wince when you see what time it is. “I have to go.”

“It won’t take long.” Tenko’s hand slides all the way under your shirt. “I know what you like now. I’ll be fast.”

He’s probably underestimating how much time it takes for you to get fully turned on, but then again, it feels different with him. And it’s not something you want to get into before work. “I bet I can be faster.”

“Huh? You can after I –”

You twist out of Tenko’s arms and push him onto his back. He was already half-hard when he was holding you. By the time you disappear under the blankets, there’s a noticeable tent in his sweatpants. You haven’t asked if he’s okay with this, but when you catch the waistband of his pants, he lifts his hips to let you pull them down. His voice is raspy when he says your name, and before you can ask for his consent more directly, his legs shift apart, making more room for you between them. That strikes you as an invitation. You get settled a little more comfortably, although you’re not expecting to stay here for long, before you lean in to drag your tongue across the tip of his cock.

Tenko’s hips jerk. “Hold still,” you say. “Or I stop.”

“Why do I have to hold still?” Tenko freezes anyway, and you almost laugh. “It’s not fair.”

“I said I was going to be fast. I need your help. You can help by holding still.”

“So you’ll stop if I don’t.”

“Let me think.” While you’re thinking, you lick the tip of his cock again, and this time, Tenko stays still. You reward him with a kiss, and slowly open your mouth, tasting him for a long moment before pulling away to speak. “I guess if you don’t hold still, I’ll have to hold you down.”

His hips jerk again. You feel the muscles in his thighs go tense. Is that an idea he likes? You were just being playful, flirty, but suddenly your head is full of the idea of pinning Tenko’s hips to the bed and teasing him until he can’t take it any longer. You don’t get the sense that it would take very long, so you carefully shift your weight, to the tune of a sharp intake of breath from the head of the bed. Suddenly the sheet shifts back, and you glance up to find Tenko propped up on his elbows and staring down at you with glassy eyes. He wants to watch you suck his cock. That’s fine with you.

Unlike the first time you touched him, Tenko keeps his hands to himself. They’re curled into fists at his sides – no, grasping at the sheets – no, grabbing a fistful of his pillow and holding on tight. You keep your attention focused on the tip of his cock, since you’re not confident in your ability to suppress your own gag reflex, and you really don’t want to ruin Tenko’s first blowjob ever. But you’re not going to say it isn’t tempting. Every time you glance upwards, he’s a little more undone.

You’re just considering whether it’s worth a shot when Tenko’s mouth opens and a plea spills out. “I need it. I need you.”

He needs you. You wonder if something so simply can really be the magic words, the thing that takes you from unsure to dead certain, but you’re already taking him further into your mouth, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock as you breathe through your nose. Tenko shudders, gasps so sharply that could almost be a whine. You struggle to think of a way to signal your approval and finally settle on running your thumb over the exposed crest of his hip. You had one hand free when you started; now you have two, because you’ve taken his cock so far into your mouth that there’s no room left for your hand.

With Tenko’s hips held down, there’s no risk that he’ll thrust and trigger your gag reflex. You draw back partially, then sink down again, far enough that the tip of your nose brushes the coarse dark hair at his groin. The thought crosses your mind of how disastrous it would be to sneeze right now, and shortly afterward, you discover how difficult it is to laugh with a cock in your mouth. Your throat convulses as you struggle to hold it back, and Tenko moans, so loud and desperate that your face flushes and head floods through you.

You’re not laughing anymore. You draw back and sink down again and again, trying to keep the motion as smooth and effortless as possible, and Tenko’s body seizes beneath you. His back arches, and he stammers out something like a warning. It’s late. You’re not a fan of the way cum tastes – you haven’t met anyone who is except Yoshimi, and you think she’s probably lying about that – but you find that you don’t mind so much when it’s Tenko’s. There are a lot of things you don’t mind so much when it’s him.

You pull away once he begins to go soft, then duck back in to kiss the spot on his hip you were running your thumb over. He doesn’t make any move to pull his sweatpants back up, so you do it for him, and you take the opportunity to look him over. You thought he was just worn out. Now you think he might be passed out. “Are you okay?”

One hand catches you by the front of your pajama shirt and yanks you down for a kiss. You try to hit the brakes – kissing after a blowjob is iffy, and you’re not sure if Tenko knows that – but he won’t let you, and your lips crash together hard. He speaks without letting you pull away. “You just sucked my soul out through my dick. Of course I’m okay.”

“I think those two statements contradict each other.”

“I don’t care.” Tenko’s other hand comes up, landing half on your hip, half on your ass. “My turn now.”

“No.” You pull away and scramble out of bed. “Maybe later. I have to go to work.”

“Maybe later?” Tenko looks affronted, or he would if he wasn’t struggling to keep his eyes open. “What? Do you think I’d be bad at it?”

“I don’t think that. I just have to go to work. And you need to go back to sleep.” You’re pretty sure his soul’s still attached, but you definitely sapped most of his energy. Not enough to stop him from pouting, though. “Definitely later. Is that better?”

“No.” Tenko yawns. “But I’ll take it.”

He lets you go, already half-asleep as you pull your hand free, and you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, noting an odd spring in your step. You haven’t felt this good waking up in a while. Maybe you should start the day like this more often.

Nobody else is awake when you head out to the living room and kitchen, which isn’t a surprise. Compress has been sleeping a lot, which is good – an injury like his requires extra rest. Twice goes to bed early, like an old man, according to one of his two personalities. Toga stayed up late. So did Spinner, and so did Dabi. Dabi’s the only one who stirs when you start picking through the kitchen for breakfast. “If you’re gonna fuck him before seven am, tape his mouth shut first.”

Half of you cringes at the thought that Tenko was audible from the living room. The other half, though – “Nobody made you listen.”

“Kinky. Maybe we should change your code name, Saintess.”

“If you think that’s kinky, you really need to educate yourself.”

You probably would have thought not caring if someone was eavesdropping was kinky back in the day, but then you met Mitsuko. She and Dabi would probably hate each other. Then again, Mitsuko’s not above a bout of hatefucking. Maybe that would be good for her. Speaking from personal experience, there’s nothing like getting intimate with a villain to exorcise some of your hatred of heroes.

It doesn’t matter, because there’s no way you’re introducing your friends to the League. The fact that Kazuo knows is bad enough. You make tea, pick through the kitchen for something to eat on the walk to work, and put on your shoes. It occurs to you that you should probably say something Dabi, because he’s awake, but you can’t figure out what it should be. “Um, have a good day.”

His response comes back dripping with condescension. “You have a good day too, Saintess.”

You lock the door, struggling to suppress an eyeroll. He’ll probably give Tenko a hard time once Tenko wakes up, but hopefully the blowjob high will insulate Tenko from caring about it too much. That’s not the only thing you’re hoping it’ll insulate Tenko from. At some point today he’s going to remember that you’re meeting up with your hero-adjacent ex-boyfriend after work, and the less time he spends thinking about that, the better.

You’re worried work will drag, but it speeds past, keeping you busy enough that you don’t worry too much about the fact that the League is still holed up in your apartment. Kurogiri’s looking for another potential hideout, but you don’t get the sense that any of them are in a particular hurry to leave. After all, your place is a guaranteed roof over their heads, a source of running water, a source of internet access, and a semi-comfortable place to sleep, more comfortable now that you’ve invested in an air mattress that sleeps two. You wouldn’t want to leave, if you were them.

You’re not sure you want them to, either. When you’re with them, you don’t have to lie to anybody about what you’re doing. When you’re with them, you’re not worried about being found out. When you’re with them, you’re with Tenko, and you – like him. You like him so much that you stepped in front of a bullet for him and gave him head with absolutely zero prompting. You’re not sure which of those is more out of character for you.

Your last patient of the day has a weird injury, weird in that even when you rack your brain, you can’t think what could have possibly caused it. It seems like his hand’s been degloved completely, then flipped inside out, with veins and muscles and layers of fat on the surface and skin enfolding his bones. “This was a quirk,” you say, once you’ve clenched your jaw and concealed the surprise. The patient nods. “What happened?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s not our policy to ask questions like that,” you say. The patient shrugs. He’s not the most talkative, which is fine. You get his permission and take some pictures, getting as many views of it as you can, before you render a potential treatment plan. “I’m going to call a doctor to look at this, but based on what I’m seeing, this is a hospital matter. We’ll most likely prescribe you some painkillers for the trip and wrap this up to prevent any more exposure to bacteria. Do you have any questions?”

“Are you sure you can’t fix it here?” The patient’s expression says he doesn’t want anything to do with the hospital, which isn’t a surprise, but you’re fairly sure the doctor will be able to talk him into it. “They fixed whatever’s wrong with your hand, right?”

You glance at your bandaged hand, surprised. You’re still covering the scratches Tenko left, just because the scabs keep cracking. “That’s different. Mine are superficial. Yours is – just sit tight. I’ll grab the doctor and she can explain.”

The doctor on call is on break, and not happy to be interrupted. “Sorry,” you say. “The patient in Exam 3 – his hand’s turned inside out. He doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but –”

“What do you mean, turned inside out?”

“I mean, the muscles and blood vessels are on the outside,” you say. The doctor’s eyes widen. “He might need emergency surgery to keep the hand, and it’s probably infected already. I can’t talk him into going to the hospital. I’m just a nurse. Maybe if you explain –”

The doctor sets her bento aside and gets to her feet. “Did he say how it happened?”

“It was a quirk,” you say. “I took photos already. I’ll add them to our database while you talk to him.”

“Name, age, quirk.”

“He didn’t give a name. Early thirties. Quirk – I don’t know what it’s called, but his hair looks like arrows.” Sometimes quirks are easy for you to guess. Sometimes not. “He’s a little guarded, but he came here for help. That counts for something, right?”

The doctor nods. “Upload the photos. I’ll go talk to him.”

You added the photos to the clinic’s shared drive already, and you steal the doctor’s chair to upload them to the database that covers all the clinics in the network. Keeping a database of quirk-related injuries helps identify trends, develop treatment protocols, and tailor supply and personnel distribution. If a lot of burn injuries are showing up at a particular clinic, it’s helpful to be able to supply that clinic properly. But you’ve never seen an injury like this before, and when you add the photos to the ‘open wounds’ folder in the database, you realize that no one else has, either. There’s nothing even remotely close. What kind of quirk could do this?

You’re puzzling over it, wondering if it’s worth querying public records over, when you hear a door open and shut down the hallway. At first you think it’s the doctor coming back. Then you hear the exit door at the far end of the hallway open and shut, too, and thirty seconds later, you realize that something’s wrong.

You race down the hall, skidding into Exam 3, and find the doctor sprawled out on the ground, conscious and aware and bleeding from a superficial scrape in her upper arm – but not moving. “What happened?”

She tries to answer you, but she’s speaking with agonizing slowness, almost completely unintelligible even when you try to read her lips. You hurry forward, checking her respiration and heart rate, horrified to find at least thirty seconds passing between each beat of her heart. What is this? How is she still alive? The first answer is clear: A quirk. Your patient’s quirk, which you didn’t ask about, because it’s policy not to ask. The second answer’s in doubt, and although it’s never happened while you’ve been on shift in three and a half years of working at the clinic, you know what protocol mandates when a staff member is attacked.

You press the panic button taped to the underside of the desk – why didn’t the doctor go for it? – triggering a clinic-wide alert and placing an automatic call to the emergency line. Then you turn your attention back to the doctor, the doctor you sent in here alone, checking for pupil movement, for pallor, for anything to tell you whether you need to call a code along with the alert.

Emergency services get there before law enforcement’s even left the station, and because you had contact with the attacker, too, you’re sent along in the ambulance to Yokohama General. You spend the entire way there trying to stay out of the EMTs’ way and trying to apologize to the doctor before letting this happen, until one of the EMTs tells you to can it. “If you’d known, you wouldn’t have sent anyone, but you didn’t. Put the blame where it belongs.”

That’s hard to do. Lately you’ve been so used to placing the blame on yourself that it’s turning into your default position, but this time, it really isn’t your fault. You never would have sent the doctor to check on the patient if there’d been any indication that he was dangerous. You didn’t know. That’s all.

At Yokohama General, the doctor’s whisked up to intensive care, while you’re held back in the emergency room. You’re not sure what they’re looking for – you touched the patient while you were unwrapping the bandage he’d tied around the wound, and nothing happened to you – but you hang out in an exam room anyway, with nothing to do but nap behind a curtain and text Kazuo. Might be late. Somebody attacked a doctor at work and I’m at the hospital.

“I know.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. The curtain peels back and reveals Kazuo standing there, wearing a pair of glasses and a suit jacket over his usual white shirt and slacks. The man standing next to him is wearing a suit and a pair of glasses, too – but his suit is grey, and his hair is green with streaks of yellow, and –

Sir Nighteye. You shrink back in horror, and the third member of the trio, a blue-skinned woman with a mask over her face, pipes up in a hurry. “Don’t worry, we’re here to help! Sir is very friendly! He loves to laugh!”

Sir Nighteye glances briefly at you, then looks to Kazuo. “Is this your friend?”

“I would give her space,” Kazuo says. “She was attacked on her way home last year, and was a first responder to the incident at Kamino Ward. Therapy for these traumatic experiences has not progressed as far as those who care for her might have hoped.”

You give Kazuo a dirty look, which he ignores. “I see,” Sir Nighteye says, and takes a notable step back. “I understand you had contact with the individual who attacked your coworker.”

“Yes. I examined him.” You wonder how Nighteye’s quirk works. How long it works for, and if he uses on you, how far ahead in your life he’ll be able to see. “If I had known what he was going to do –”

“That wouldn’t have been possible,” Nighteye interrupts. Maybe it’s eye contact. You bow your head. “Describe the injury to me.”

“Um –” The word that comes to mind is ‘horrific’, but after what you’ve seen over the last few months, your bar for horrific is pretty high. “It looked like his hand had been turned inside out. Skin on the inside, veins on the outside.”

“I see. Did it appear to be clean?”

“What?”

“The separation of the skin on his hand from his wrist,” Sir Nighteye says, impatient. “Was it jagged or clean?”

“Oh.” You think of the photos you took. “Jagged.”

“But the skin was otherwise intact?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” Nighteye says again. What does he see? You need to know. You need to know if you can go home tonight, or if you have to stay as far away from Tenko and the others as possible to keep them safe. “You’ve been working there for three and a half years. Have you seen an injury of that type before?”

“No,” you say. “Not in our database, either. He said it was caused by a quirk, but our protocols don’t allow us to ask more than that.”

“Kiyohara.” Nighteye doesn’t say more than Kazuo’s family name, but it’s clear what he wants. “Now.”

Kazuo’s hesitating, and you know why. “That question is too broad,” you say to Nighteye. Nighteye pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, eyebrows raised. “It has to be more specific, or the information influx will risk overloading his brain. Since you don’t care about his health, maybe you’ll care about the fact that he won’t be useful at all after a grand mal seizure.”

You haven’t blown up on a hero, ever. Suddenly you get why Mitsuko’s been doing it. It feels good, and Nighteye, unlike the sidekicks, doesn’t rise to the bait. “Is that so?” he asks Kazuo. Kazuo nods. “We’ll secure as much information as possible before you make the query. As of now, you’re off-duty. And you’re free to go.”

That last is to you, but a warning look from Kazuo keeps you seated on the bed until Nighteye and his sidekick are gone. You open your mouth and he holds up his hand. It pisses you off. “Don’t shush me. What was that about?”

“Not here. Outside.”

You grit your teeth and follow Kazuo out through the emergency room and onto the street. It’s dark, and with autumn well on its way, the wind whipping between the buildings is cold. You follow Kazuo for two blocks, then into a park, before he stops walking and turns to face you. “You shouldn’t have spoken up. I told you – you can’t save both of us.”

“So I was supposed to just sit there while he made you overload your quirk?” You’re already out of patience. “No. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“The Nighteye agency is investigating the Shie Hassaikai,” Kazuo says. Your jaw drops. “They’ve enlisted the help of dozens of unaffiliated heroes. It’s the largest operation any hero has conducted since Kamino, and it will be far better planned than Kamino was. Sir Nighteye won’t act until he’s certain of victory.”

“Why are they investigating the Hassaikai?” you choke out. “Is it because of –”

“Your friend’s involvement is tangential. They aren’t after him this time.” Kazuo’s hand rises to his temple, and you catch it, pull it back down. You spend a lot of time dragging your friends’ hands away before they can hurt themselves. “Nighteye has been pursuing the Hassaikai since before Kamino. Their investigation is related to the distribution of Trigger. You’re familiar?”

You nod. A solid thirty percent of your patients who show up in costume are showing up after experiencing the adverse effects of Trigger. The compound boosts quirk activation at the cost of everything else, and it’s one of those things you’ll never understand about people with quirks – that constant desire for more of it, more power, more everything. “The Hassaikai’s involved with that?”

“They’re distributing an inferior version of it,” Kazuo says. Tenko didn’t know that. You know he didn’t, because he would have told you. How much else doesn’t he know? “And lately they’ve been distributing something else as well. Bullets that erase quirks.”

“I know,” you say. Kazuo looks surprised. “It’s temporary, but they work.”

Compress’s quirk came back within twenty-four hours, but you know it’ll be a long time before anyone in the League forgets what happened in that warehouse. The bruise on your shoulder is fading, but the creepy red lines haven’t. “Nighteye believes that Chisaki is pursuing a more permanent version of the quirk-erasing bullets, and doing so through less than ethical means,” Kazuo says. “Every use of my quirk in the last six weeks has been related to this investigation. Your new name came up in my queries because you crossed paths with Chisaki once. If you, personally, aid him in any way, you’ll become one of the investigation’s targets. So will your friend.”

Chisaki must be Overhaul’s family name. You wonder if he’s got a family. “I don’t think we’re planning to help him,” you say, and see Kazuo’s eyebrows lift. “He killed one of us and maimed another one. That’s not forgivable.”

“Indeed.” Kazuo sits down on a bench, and so do you. It’s quiet for a little while. “So. Saintess.”

“I didn’t pick it.”

“I know,” Kazuo says. Of course he does. “I’d have advised you to choose a name soon regardless. As this escalates, you’ll need to shield your true identity.”

“So I won’t go to jail,” you clarify.

“So you won’t be killed,” Kazuo says. You stare at him. “I’m aware of the – position – you hold in your friend’s organization. If his enemies believe they can use you against him, they will do it, and since targeting you when you’re with him will be difficult, they’ll do it when you’re alone, as a civilian. My query indicated that you haven’t been found out, but today was a very near miss.”

That should make sense to you. You force yourself to think. Why would the Nighteye agency care about an attack in a free clinic on the rough side of Yokohama? They wouldn’t, unless – “Was that guy one of the Hassaikai?”

“Sir Nighteye suspects he is. He won’t know for sure until I search,” Kazuo says. His phone buzzes. He checks it and sighs. “My parameters are in. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Kazuo –” You don’t know what to say, and he’s already getting to his feet. “Why are you helping me so much? You could get in trouble.”

“I don’t care about that,” Kazuo says. He barely cares about anything anymore. Seeing the apathy overtake him for the past three years has been agonizing. “The world your friend wishes to create, a world without heroes, is a world where this would not have happened to me. It’s too late for me, but there are others who could be spared.”

You look at him, feeling your throat tighten and your eyes burn. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you,” Kazuo says, for the third time today, over his shoulder as he starts the walk back to Yokohama General, “you can’t save us both.”

You’ve always thought he meant himself and Tenko when he said that. Now you wonder if he means himself and you. You wonder what saving either of you would mean. And you wonder if it’s too late for you already.

Your phone buzzes, and you look at it. It’s the new group chat, the one you made because you couldn’t face the thought of never seeing Sho or Hirono’s phone numbers pop up again. Mitsuko’s texting you. And Ryuhei. Quit being a stranger. Come hang with us.

Tenko and the others are already expecting you to be out tonight, and you never said how long you’d be gone. Where are you?

Look up.

You look up, and sure enough, your friends are strolling towards you. “Kazuo dropped a pin,” Ryuhei calls once he’s in earshot. “We never see you anymore.”

It’s been a while since you saw Ryuhei, but Mitsuko? “We saw each other five days ago, Mitsu.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t exactly fun. And you had to run off to your stupid job.” Mitsuko rolls her eyes. “Come on. Let’s go out. I swear I won’t get wasted and spit on any more sidekicks.”

“And no peeing on the All Might statue.”

“Fine.” Mitsuko heaves a dramatic sigh, while Ryuhei cracks up. “Drinks first.”

“Drinks,” Ryuhei agrees. “I found a maid bar, and they’ll treat me like a creep if I go in there alone.”

You’re pretty sure the three of you together look weirder strolling into a maid bar than Ryuhei would have by himself, but nobody who works there comments on it, and they’re nicer to you than you expected them to be. One of them knows you – she’s one of the people who uses the clinic as a primary care provider, so you’ve seen her a few times a year for the past three years. She cracks a joke about how Ryuhei would look better in a maid costume than she would, which leads directly into Mitsuko bullying him into trying on the headpiece of one of the costumes. You take a picture before you can stop yourself and drop it in the group chat. Kazuo’s busy, but now there’s a record, and you’re pretty sure it’ll make Yoshimi laugh.

You’ve been most comfortable with Tenko and the League lately, but it’s nice to have a night out with your friends, too – one that’s not complicated by your involvement with your childhood best friend turned boyfriend, who probably fits the criteria of a domestic terrorist and who’s been living in your apartment on and off for the past six weeks with his gang of domestic terrorist friends. Mitsuko and Ryuhei are the most irreverent of your group, and they live the closest to the edge. Ryuhei has a record that isn’t his fault – his quirk is entirely unconscious, and when a sidekick launched a quirk-based attack at him while he was running away from a building he’d graffitied, he couldn’t stop himself from reflecting it back. Mitsuko doesn’t have a record, but the cops in Yokohama know her too well to ever give her the benefit of the doubt again. They might have the privilege of having quirks, but you’ve always been able to complain with them in a way that you haven’t with the others.

After the maid café, you find yourselves at karaoke. You collectively suck at karaoke. Ryuhei’s got the best voice, but his enunciation is the first thing to go when he’s drunk, and you can’t listen to him slurring his way through a song without laughing. Mitsuko is tone-deaf, but makes up for it with enthusiastic dance moves, and there’s absolutely nothing about your performances that stands out. You’re such a nonevent at karaoke that Sho used to fall asleep when it was your turn to sing.

It should be fun. It used to be fun. But you’ve lost two friends now. One of your friends is sick, while another’s being forced into work that could snap his mind in two. Mitsuko isn’t okay; you’re not okay. Ryuhei isn’t, either, and when the three of you are alone and you run out of things to talk about, there’s no point in pretending otherwise.

“Everything sucks now,” Ryuhei says in a break between songs. “Not just since they died. For a while.”

“It sucked the whole time. We just didn’t admit it.” Mitsuko is facedown in one of the pillows on the couch. Her voice is muffled. “It was always bullshit. When they were here, it was easier not to think about it.”

“I miss them,” you say. Your voice wavers, but only once. “I wish they were here.”

“Yeah. They should be here, and those heroes shouldn’t.” Ryuhei’s words are slurred, but he’s getting his point across just fine. “If they’re so great, how come nine hundred people died on their watch?”

They sound like Tenko. He’d be happy to hear this, and like you’ve summoned him just by thinking of him, your phone pings with a text from the burner phone Tenko’s been using to call people – Kurogiri, Overhaul, and you. When are you coming back?

I’ll be back tonight.

When?

Can’t he just trust you? You’re about to text back that you’ll be home when you’re done when Mitsuko scoops the phone out of your hands. “Your new boyfriend’s kind of clingy, huh?”

“No,” you say. Part of you gets a stupid little thrill out of admitting that Tenko’s your boyfriend. “Not clingy. He knows I was meeting Kazuo tonight.”

Mitsuko makes an error sound. “Bad move. Telling the new boy about the former boy makes the new boy insecure.”

“No –”

“Especially if the first guy is Kazuo,” Ryuhei says. “Fucking hell. If I was dating his ex and she went out to meet him – and she didn’t tell me when she was coming back – I’d probably shit a brick.”

“Thanks. I really could have done without that picture in my head.” Even as you return fire, you’re wondering if they’ve got a point. If it’s not just that Kazuo’s working for the heroes. If any part of it is that Tenko’s jealous of the guy you dated before him. “What should I do?”

Mitsuko’s still holding your phone, and to your horror, she sends a text. This is Mitsu. Your girlfriend’s not banging her ex, she’s hanging with us. Chill out.

Tenko texts back immediately. Two words. Prove it.

“He wants proof,” Mitsuko announces. “Selfie time! Look cute.”

You can’t manage looking cute. You’re too stressed to look cute, and too distracted by the stupid faces your friends are making. Mitsuko snaps a photo and sends it off, followed by a text. Your turn.

For what?

To prove you’re not banging your ex right now.

You cringe. “He doesn’t have any exes.”

“Aww, you’re his first? No wonder he’s acting like such a freak.” Mitsuko snickers. “It’s fine, anyway. We already know what he looks like.”

Something about that strikes you as odd, but before you can ask, Ryuhei pulls a phone out of his pocket. Not his. This one has a cracked screen and a case with an Endeavor pinup card taped to the back, and all at once there’s a lump in your throat. “Is that Hiro’s?”

“Yeah. They released her personal effects, fucking finally. I was her emergency contact, so I got them.” Mitsuko takes the phone from Ryuhei, your phone forgotten even as it pings again. “You know she was conscious under there?”

Your stomach clenches. “No.”

“Like the whole time. When I unlocked it, there were a whole bunch of undelivered messages, to all of us. I guess the wreckage blocked the signal.” Mitsuko’s voice is flat. Her eyes are filling with tears. “She recorded a message for us. Here.”

You don’t want to listen. You don’t want to see. Not when you had something to do with the disaster that killed her, not when it’s partially your fault. The screen is black, but you can hear Hirono’s voice, rough and choked with dust and tears as she tells all of you that she loves you, that she hated waking up most mornings except that you all made her stupid life worth living. No jokes about Endeavor. No picking on you for being boring or Mitsuru for being a simp for his latest girlfriend or Mitsuko for whatever item of clothing she bought that Hirono hates. Just Hiro saying she loves you. And Hiro saying goodbye.

You’re crying by the end of it, messy, stupid tears. Ryuhei’s teared up, too, but unlike you, he’s still able to talk. “That was the last audio clip,” he says. “There were a bunch of others. While she was trying to grab the phone, I guess. The first one was really interesting.”

He presses play on it, and you know instantly what it’s recording: The fight between All Might and All For One, audio that the news helicopters couldn’t have picked up, audio that would have been suppressed if anyone had gotten ahold of it. All For One is taunting All Might over his failures, mocking him for his ideals, the same words you can imagine Tenko using but with thousands of times more glee. And then you hear it, All For One’s voice chilling your blood even through a recording: “There is one thing you might be interested to know. Shigaraki Tomura, my apprentice? He was once known as Shimura Tenko – your beloved master’s grandson!”

You freeze in place. “That name sounded kind of familiar,” Ryuhei says, after he’s hit pause. “We couldn’t figure out why at first. Yoshimi was the one who got it. Shimura Tenko was your friend. The one who went missing.”

“We all told you he was dead, but you were right and we were wrong.” Mitsuko sprawls out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “We figured there couldn’t be two, so we checked with Kazuo, and then we asked if we should tell you. If it wouldn’t be too hard on you with everything else going on. You know what he said?”

You can guess. “He said, What makes you think she doesn’t know?” Ryuhei mimics Kazuo’s frozen voice. “And then it all made sense. Why you’ve been acting so weird. Why you haven’t been around. Where you got that weird scar on your wrist –”

“And that bite mark on your neck,” Mitsuko adds, and your hand flies up to cover it even though it’s long gone. She waves your phone at you, the screen lit up with texts from Tenko. “I’m texting Shigaraki Tomura right now, aren’t I?”

You could lie. You need to lie. But even as you’re stammering through the first sentence of your denial, you know it’s too late. Your friends know. Kazuo as good as told them. And in some weird way, you’re relieved. You don’t have to lie any more. You can let it go. So you stop talking, except for one sentence. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Are you kidding me? We don’t want to rat you out,” Ryuhei says. “We want in.”

You stare at him. “We want to meet him first,” Mitsuko says. “Since you’ve been hung up on him since you were a toddler and your judgment with guys isn’t usually garbage –”

“But we want in,” Ryuhei interrupts. “Like we said. It’s been bullshit for a long time. At least your psycho boyfriend is doing something about it.”

“So?” Mitsuko looks at you expectantly. “When do we meet him?”

Your phone pings again, and again – and then it starts ringing. Mitsuko holds it out to you, and you answer the call. “My friends want to meet you.”

“I’m not jealous,” Tenko says. Someone guffaws in the background. “I’m not. I thought someone had – when are you getting back? It’s –”

“My friends want to meet you,” you say again. “Do you want to meet them?”

“They want to meet me,” Tomura repeats. He sounds just as confused as you feel. “Like, me, or –?”

“They know. I didn’t tell them, they guessed.”

“We want in,” Ryuhei says loudly, and you jump. “Do we have to audition or something? I’ve got a record.”

“I’d have one if I hadn’t blown my arresting officer,” Mitsuko adds from your other side, and someone on the other end of the line – probably Spinner – breaks out in a coughing fit. “So?”

Tomura’s quiet for a second. “In a few days,” he says. Ryuhei digs an excited elbow into your side. “Tell them they’d better know exactly what “in” means for them.”

“I’ll tell them,” you say. He’s stressed. You can tell. This is your fault. “Sorry.”

“Don’t. When are you coming back?”

“Soon,” you say. “I promise. I –”

Whatever you were going to say gets drowned out by Mitsuko making incredibly loud kissing sounds right next to the microphone. You hang up and shove her away, hard. Not that it bothers her. She’s cackling to herself. “He said yes?”

“In a few days. And you’d better know exactly what you mean when you say you’re in.”

“Nice!” Ryuhei gives you what’s probably a friendly punch in the arm, and you recoil with a hiss. He hit just above the impact point of Overhaul’s bullet. “Oh, sorry.”

Mitsuko has a weird look on her face now. You decide not to overreact to it. She might just be drunk. When Ryuhei hops up to go rent your karaoke booth for another hour, she turns to you. “Does he hurt you?”

“Who, Ryuhei?”

“No. Your boyfriend.” Mitsuko’s expression is serious, maybe more serious than you’ve ever seen it. “That thing on your wrist. I remember when your voice was fucked up, too. There’s more, right? Something’s up with your shoulder. Did he do that?”

You shake your head. You didn’t step in front of the bullet on Tenko’s orders. He was mad at you for doing it. “But he’s hurt you before,” Mitsuko says. You open your mouth and she talks right over you. “You’re going to say he didn’t mean to, right?”

But he didn’t. The first time, he didn’t remember you until it was almost too late. When he bit you, he didn’t realize how hard he was doing it, just like he didn’t realize he’d activated his quirk the first time you touched him. When his nails tore up the back of your hand, it was because you put your hand there. “He didn’t mean to,” you say. Mitsuko makes a derisive sound. “Don’t. I know him and you don’t. He didn’t mean to.”

“Just because he’s sorry doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it,” Mitsuko says. “I know guys like him. I know them better than you do.”

Guys like him. Magne said something like that, too. You didn’t try to talk her out of it, and you don’t try to talk Mitsuko out of it, either – just like you’ve given up trying to talk Tenko out of the lies his master told him for now. “You’ll meet him soon. You can make up your own mind.”

Ryuhei comes back, and you and Mitsuko shut up in unison. “We got another hour, but then they’re kicking us out,” he reports. “We got another few songs. Who wants to sing?”

You don’t to. Mitsuko does, though, and after two songs from her, Ryuhei commandeers the mic and forces you to sing. Like always, you’re boring enough to send at least one of your friends to sleep, and with Mitsuko passed out on the couch, you hand the mic back to Ryuhei. He’s in a good mood, at least partially because he’s drunk, but you’re most of the way to sober, and you can’t help feeling like you’ve screwed up. You wanted to keep your friends out of this, and they’re in. You’re this close to getting Kazuo in trouble, too. And you’ve let Tenko down. Again.

You text him, wondering if he’s still awake, hoping he isn’t. I’m sorry.

Don’t. We still need allies, and if you trust them, I can trust them, too. Tenko’s response comes back fast, and the weight of his trust knocks the air out of you. When are you coming home?

We’re leaving soon. I should be home in an hour or so.

Good. Tenko’s immediate response gives you that weird hit of normalcy again. It’s a normal conversation, the kind you’d be having if you’d grown up together and gotten together and moved in together, if nothing had gone wrong. I miss you.

I miss you too.

“Hey,” Ryuhei says, and you look up. “I’m putting on the performance of a lifetime here. You two aren’t even watching?”

“Sorry,” you say. Mitsuko sits up, then lies back down with her head in your lap. “Go for it.”

Ryuhei gets back to it, aiming slightly sulky looks your way, and you settle in. You keep your eyes on him, but your mind’s left the building. It’s already on the train, halfway back to your apartment, all the way back to your apartment, through the front door and home to your best friend.

[freak-accident419]

Make Me

Joosh Futturman (J-Futz) x GN!Reader

Summary: You come by Joosh’s house a year since you’ve broken up with him, after realizing you left your box of important belongings there. Seeing each other again after a long time sparked not only bitterness and resumed arguments, but also unresolved tension.

WC: 3.7k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader, no specific genitals mentioned (vague penetration), more plot than porn (you can tell I do that a lot.. i’m a storyteller, what do you expect?), takes place during S01E12 “Prelude to an Apocalypse”—you may have to watch this episode especially to understand the ending, hate/angry/rough sex, sort of fluff by the end, a bit silly and unserious sometimes because Joosh/J-Futz is such an unserious concept :3

(A/n: I love bad boy Josh (Joosh). Anyways, I’d like to share something that maybe you might appreciate—I’d like to think that in Season 3, nut-face Josh also brings this timeline version of you to Haven, to save you from how shitty Joosh treated you, so yeah.)

-

“Fucking shit, where is it?” You muttered to yourself, digging out your closet, drawers, and under your bed. But you couldn’t find it anywhere.

You had a small, antique box full of things that meant a lot to you: polaroids, souvenirs, trinkets, and old letters. You only just remembered about it now, because while you were speaking to a lifelong friend, they brought up the matching friendship bracelet that you kept ever since grade school. And while it was old and would barely even fit you, it was treasure to you—it meant so much to you.

That led you to remember all the other important and nostalgic things you’ve kept in that memory box. But you couldn’t find the actual box itself.

Which then made you realize sourly…

That if it wasn’t at your place…

Then it was at your ex’s.

It was a messy break up. Terrible, rushed, and chaotic. So much so, that you forgot to even take the significant box with you as you finally moved out of his house.

You groaned in frustration. It wasn’t even that important or worth it to retrieve, right? If you forgot about it for a year, it shouldn’t be that important.

However, it was filled with memories… Ancient baby photos of yourself, your parents, friends, then friendship bracelets, rings, gifts, handwritten letters. And what if your ex finds it? Who knows what he would do with all your personal stuff?

So, you decided. You needed to get it back. Even if it meant seeing your ex-boyfriend again:

Joosh Futturman.

***

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.” Joosh spat as you stood on his front porch.

“Oh, save it, Joosh,” you say dismissively. He looked just about the same as you left him; a cocky and pissed off expression on his face, the small gold earring on his right ear, and the shitty, pretentious fashion choices. “I just left something important here. I forgot all about it because I was in a rush to leave. I don’t know how I forgot it after all these months, just… fuck, let me go get it and this’ll be the last time you’ll ever see me again.”

He glared at you for a while, observing you. This was the first time he’s seen you ever since you (rightfully) broke up with him. And you haven’t changed one bit.

He hated how no matter how much he believed he despised you, he still thought you were beautiful.

He shook his head to avoid that thought. “For the last fucking time, it’s J-Futz,” he corrected bitterly, which you would roll your eyes at. When you were still together, you were his exception. He hated whenever people called him Joosh instead of J-Futz because it triggered bad memories within him, but the way you said it was always like pure honey, no matter how ridiculous of a name it was. You two were aware that this exception wouldn’t apply anymore now that you’re broken up, but you continue to call him his real name out of spite.

After a brief moment of silence, Joosh decided to accept your proposal. “Fine, just… make it quick.”

It was definitely the moment you walked in that you knew: it was on. You hoped this encounter wouldn’t end with a messy argument again, but you already felt the tension in the atmosphere.

You still knew the house pretty well. You waltzed in, walking up the staircase to Joosh’s room, and kneeled by the bed, finally rummaging under it for your missing box. It took a while, since he ended up having a lot of junk under his bed, yet he acted so blamelessly impatient. “What’s taking so long?” He finally asked in irritation.

You scoffed, continuing to push other objects away. “Oh, fuck off. You’re the one who made this harder by putting all of your goddamn junk just stuffed under your bed.”

“Oh, please. I could easily get this all organized and cleaned up in less than an hour by any one of those guys who work for me,” he brazenly claimed, with an arrogant hinge of pride.

“You think that’s something you should be proud of?” You sneer, continuing to look through the mess. “Yeah, right, well, if anything, it’s just proving to me more how much of a careless, incompetent, lazy, man child of an asshole you are.”

“‘Lazy’? ‘Careless’? ‘Incompetent’? Are you hearing yourself, Y/n?” He scowled. “I am one of the most successful people on the planet. There is a reason why I’m rich and famous and admired. I am an entrepreneur, a CEO, an e-gaming sensation. And on top of that, I have a net worth of over six million euros.” You scoffed. You weren’t impressed or intimidated by any of this. “Take that for incompetent.”

You were just about fed up with this absurdly egotistical, selfish bastard. You popped your head out from under the bed and stood up, walking towards him until you were right in front of him. You wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his stupid face. “You know what? No. You’re just a self-obsessed asshole. You think that everyone admires you, but actually, everyone hates you. You—Your old ‘friends’ work for you and are obligated to please you because at the end of the day, you control their pay checks. They don’t actually like you. No one would. You’re a pathetic man, Joosh. All you’ve ever done was use and hurt people.”

There was an aggravated expression on his face, insinuating that you got to him—that your words got to him.

“Do you really think that I care about any of that? None of that shit matters to me as long as I’m wealthy and successful. My life is fucking awesome, and it’s even better now that I don’t have a nagging bitch being all up on my ass all the time.”

What he said barely affected you, but you wanted to add on anyways. “You know, I cannot fucking believe I fell in love with you,” you said, trying to hide any underlying sadness with your anger. “You used to be so good. You know that? But then you got greedy because money and fame just blinded you, and now you became a fucking asshole. For—For fuck’s sake, you put your parents into a shitty senior home after declaring them mentally incompetent through a court order!”

“Goddammit, Y/n, you’re the one who broke up with me!” He snarled. “Do you know how much shit the press gave me for that?”

You roll your eyes. How could he only care about his status still? “Of course you only care about your public image—”

“Okay, fuck, it hurt me too, okay? You hurt me. When you broke up with me, I had the worst damn weeks of my life.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s real funny,” you scoff at his illogicality. “Are you that fucking dense? I broke up with you because you changed! You had a little breakthrough in e-gaming, and then the hangers-on rushed in, and then fame and money—including your Uncle Barry’s money—started to corrupt you. You’re—you’re seriously trying to be the victim here? Do you know how many times you fucked up in our relationship after that?” Your blood boiled as you continued. “I—You’re insufferable! I seriously don’t know how I spent—” You corrected yourself, “I wasted three years with you.”

“Yeah? You took years out of my life too, Y/n. You know what, actually, just go get your shit so you can leave, and shut the fuck up,” he replied sternly.

“Actually, no, I don’t think I will. In fact, I should just remind you how you are the most egotistical, selfish, most narcissistic asshole on the goddamn planet! You are fucking incorrigible!” You exclaim, your voice coarse.

“I said shut up,” he huffs, stepping towards you threateningly.

“And I hate how much you believe that your money and fame is everything—is your fucking shitty solution for everything.”

“Y/n, stop that before you might say something you’ll regret.”

“Well, you know what, Joosh? You can have all the money in the world, and all the goddamn sponsors and magazine covers and press conferences, and shit, mass productions of your shitty energy drink, but… You’re gonna die alone.”

“Fucking shut up!”

“Yeah? Why don’t you fucking make me!” You retort.

Joosh suddenly pressed his lips on yours roughly, grabbing at the back of your neck to bring you in closer. You gasped the second he did this in surprise, but immediately kissed him back, feeling his tongue run against yours.

While he proceeded to make out with you, he walked forward until he pushed you down on his bed, barely giving the two of you any time to breathe before he presses his lips to yours once more.

“You never know when to fucking shut up, do you?” He grumbles lowly in your lips, placing a firm hand on your hip.

You pant heavily. “Yeah, then how about you stop giving me more reasons to complain about you, asshole?” You retort, moving your lips with his roughly, tongues fiercely mashing against each other.

From the moment you appeared at his doorstep, there was a sort of aggravating tension, which you would then realize was sexual, fueled solely by anger and resentment. It’s been more than a year since you’ve last seen him, more than a year since you two even had sex. You didn’t know what drove you to reciprocate his actions once he kissed you, or rather, you didn’t want to admit it.

Joosh threw off his jacket, then lifted his shirt off of his body, reminding you of what used to be one of your favorite things about him: his left nipple piercing.

Coming out of your trance, you mimic his actions, slightly lifting your back off the mattress so that you could remove your own shirt. You two finally discarded all your clothing in a rush until you were both completely naked against each other.

Joosh’s hand went on your side, then trailed down to your ass, then to the back of your thigh as he began to leave harsh kisses and bites on your neck, making you breathe faster.

“I fucking hate you,” he said piercingly in between kisses.

You chuckle sarcastically. “See, that’s the worst part of it all: you don’t even mean that.”

You knew your ex-boyfriend well enough to know that it would take more than a breakup and a couple of insults to get him to fully hate you. Especially while he barely detested you, regardless of everything.

He moved his head from your neck to face you. “Fine, what, you wanna know the truth? I hate that I still fucking love you.” He scowled, which caught you off guard. He placed his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open.”

You sucked his fingers off once they penetrated your mouth, sensually running your tongue along his digits. You didn’t expect him to say that now, that he still loved you, but you weren’t surprised either. The two of you had a very complicated relationship. Knowing him before his fame impacted the connection you two had; simply put, you knew him well. And you knew him well enough to be able to tell if he still loved you, which he did. You two knew each other well enough to still love each other.

After a while, he finally took his fingers out of your mouth, essentially using your saliva as a lubricant as he rubbed at your entrance vigorously, getting a soft, pleasured gasp out of you.

“A-and what, you think I don’t as well?” You huffed in response. You couldn’t lie to yourself either—you still loved him too. “I loathe it.”

Joosh sneered as he spit in his hand, pumping his cock, letting out a few, quiet grunts. “I hate that you came here today.”

”And I hate that I had always been desperate for your sad, below-average co—“ You let out a sharp inhale as you felt his entire length slide into you resistlessly.

“Yeah, but you take it anyway, don’t you?” he replied arrogantly with utmost vulgarity, beginning to move lustfully inside you.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you say, however, immediately becoming distracted from all the sensational feelings. You gulped a moan, glaring into his dark eyes. “Fuck, don’t even think that this means anything. I’m practically using you,” you grumble.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied.

Joosh had his hands gripping your hips as he thrusted into you, already at a quick pace, practically jerking his hips into yours with low grunts and huffs of breath. His cock deliciously stretched and caressed your walls at an artful rhythm.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head in pleasure, making you look up at the wall decor behind you, in which big, light up letters spelt out ‘SIN’. You let out quiet moans each time he pounded deeply into you, instinctively wrapping your legs around him to bring him even closer. His grip moved onto your thighs to support your legs, getting at an even better angle as his fingers dug into your skin. “Fuck… I really hate how you’re the only person in this world that knows exactly w-where and how to make me feel good,” you mutter as you look back at him.

The lewd, wet sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, alongside heavy breaths and moans beginning to increase. “And I hate that even after everything, I still want you. That I could get anyone I want with my status, but they’ll never be as good as you…” He let out a dark chuckle. “Look at you, so fucking needy for me…”

He pulled out, resulting in a whine escaping your lips, until he aggressively flipped you over on your stomach, making you take it from the back. His head is beside yours on the pillow as he let out soft moans, moving quickly into you, hitting all the right spots. It was like he remembered every little thing that kept you pleasured. You actually wouldn’t be surprised if he genuinely did.

The thing is, Joosh had always been a sweetheart. He was kind, considerate, and generous, all traits taught to him by his sweet parents. It wasn’t until after the fame where he began to rot.

Hell, you two used to make love. Then after, it was all quickies and straight up fucking.

So you couldn’t understand how or why he still loved you, but you know he does.

You moaned louder, feeling his fingertips digging into the skin of your hips as he pulled you towards him with every rough thrust.

“I hate that no matter how much of an asshole and jerk you’ve been, I’m still willing to forgive you,” you mutter.

Joosh moved his head to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, and then attacked your neck with even rougher kisses as he continued to move inside you. He kept confusing you with his brief moments of tenderness. “And I hate that we both know that you deserve better.”

You panted heavily as half of your face was pressed against the pillow. “Yeah, but you don’t even fucking try to work on yourself, knowing this fact.”

His hips stuttered as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. “You know me. I can’t change.”

You let out a soft gasp as you felt a sharp, deep thrust from him. “You can’t or you won’t?”

You hear his moans become more desperate and high pitched, his pace becoming inconsistent. His cock slid seamlessly inside you, bringing the two of you to become more vocal. While he let one of his hands remain on your hip, he moved his other one to grip the bed frame tightly, fucking into you even deeper.

“O-oh, f-fuck!” You whimper intensely as he continues to mercilessly pound into you, spilling out all the anger he felt from seeing you today, in which your presence reminded him of how messy the breakup was. Your whines became louder as he ruthlessly gripped your hip and pulled onto the bed frame to easily push you against his dick with each thrust.

“You talk about me being selfish and self-seeking all the time, as if you aren’t taking all of my fucking dick for your own pleasure,” he grumbles. You didn’t have a witty comeback for that—you were far too focused on how good you felt. Which sort of implied he was right, in some way.

Joosh let out louder grunts and slight moans, which was unsynchronized with the obscene, raucous sounds of lewd plaps of his consistent penetration. Plap, plap, plap, it would turn the both of you on even more.

“You’re just as pathetic as I am, Y/n,” he said coldly.

You felt so close to your climax, and as his thrusts became more stuttered, you could tell Joosh was as well.

“Fuck you, Joosh.”

He violently pushed into you deeply as your lips parted for a loud, torrid moan to escape your mouth, fingernails digging into the thick sheets as you came hard around his cock. Not even another thrust after, your ex-boyfriend came, making sure his dick was deeply and fully into you once his semen precipitously spilled inside of your body through exuberant spurts. His voice was high pitched and desperate, and you could swear you heard your name leave his lips in a small whisper.

He pulled out of you afterwards, rolling off your body as he breathed heavily, resting on his side as he faced the edge of the bed.

You turned to lay on your side, only to see his back facing you.

The atmosphere wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t calm either. It was sort of awkward in a way. You two were still exes after all. An entire minute has passed, of silence and heavy panting, the two of you catching your breaths from all that energy you just released. Most of the words that were exchanged earlier weren’t exactly true. It was moreso getting out all your anger and bitterness of the past, so that you could have a civil, compassionate talk later about your feelings and the state of the relationship.

Soon enough, you scooted towards him, then placed a deliberate, gentle kiss on his shoulder. Your fingertips began to mindlessly trace his back tattoo, which spelled out ‘J Futz’. He seemed to appreciate it, your touch.

Your finger traced over the ‘F’ on his back. “I want to make this work,” you murmured.

“I know,” you heard him say shamefully as your fingertip caressed along the lines of ink.

“But I don’t want you to change for me. I want you to change for yourself.”

He turned around to face you, soft, brown eyes meeting yours. It was like a part of his old self was still in there.

“I’m sorry… For everything,” he finally says.

“Me too.”

***

Joosh was in the shower while you were in the kitchen, eating a small snack, back to being fully clothed. You stared at your keepsake box that you finally found, which was now sitting on the dining table in front of you—he even helped you find it actually, while even criticizing his own lack of organization.

You two agreed to take things slow, followed by you encouraging him to make some reparations, probably starting with his parents first. Ultimately, he was going to work on himself—not just for you and the people he loved, but for himself, as you said.

You took a bite out of your snack, and then slightly flinched as you saw Joosh in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, wow. That was fast,” you observed. When he said he was going to take a quick shower, you didn’t know he was that literal about it. Especially since he sort of sucked at keeping his word.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Joosh was still in the shower, as you initially expected. The man in front of you would be Josh, basically your ex, but from another timeline. Ever since he was recruited by soldiers Tiger and Wolf of 2162, they were consistently fucking with the past through time travel, and the trio’s interferences only just created new realities, such as yours.

When Josh came back to 2017 after the 80s, he discovered that he was popular, that he was a rich celebrity, loved amongst everyone. However, it nearly broke his heart once he heard from Tracy and Paul that you dumped him—or, well, Joosh—the past year. The thing was, that no matter how many times he tampered with the timeline (for example, Lamar Price’s Blapple and the disappearance of Ray), you still remained his partner when he would come back to the present. So now, knowing that he allegedly screwed things up with you in this reality, then on top of that, finding out his parents despise him, he began to become disappointed by what he thought was going to be a great life for him.

He was confused, seeing you eat at the kitchen table, clearly unbothered by him. “Y/n?” His voice was higher pitched, reminding you of your Joosh before he was corrupted.

“Um, yeah?” You asked. “Did you even take a shower? Now I’m confused.” You look at his ear. “And you took off your earring.”

“Oh, um, yeah, and no, not yet, I—” Josh was very much confused. Didn’t his friends tell him how the two of you broke up? Were they wrong?

“You don’t look too hot,” you say, grabbing your box and walking over to him. “Thank you, Joosh. For, um… for finally listening to and understanding me. I know we’re both not perfect, but… I just… I’m glad we were able to… to talk this out.”

You look down at your box and then at him, who had an absentminded look on his face that you didn’t recognize. “I have to go now. Let’s talk more tomorrow, okay?” You press a soft kiss to Josh’s cheek, then made your way out the door.

What in the hell just happened?

Josh was befuddled, but also sort of relieved. Maybe he would be able to patch things up with you. He wasn’t sure how he was going to fix things with his parents after that encounter with his dad. Actually, he was still stressed out about that. Your idea for him to take a shower didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

That is, until he was met with this reality’s version of himself in the bathroom.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I love love your writing lovely!! Seriously are amazing!

I am on my hands and knees for some slow soft sensual sexy time with iii, only if you feel up to it of course! Let’s say he’s come home from tour and just wants to savour every bit of you and show you how much he missed you 🥺

Tysm sending hugs and hope you’re doing well! 🌸💗

Crumpled bedsheets

First of all, what good have I done to this earth to deserve a request from you, a queen of st stories herself. I can only wish to satisfy. Second of all, I think i blacked out writing this cause this is iii and my brain usually short circuits when it CUMs to him… ehem… enjoy.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Just landed”, read the latest text between you two, causing the biggest smile to spread across your lips. A smile that hasn’t left your face ever since. You had been restless for the past couple of days. Just the thought alone of finally getting to see your boyfriend was enough to keep you up all night. You both haven’t been apart for so long before. So the past month and a half had been torture. The bed felt empty without iii’s long limbs occupying most of it. It was too quiet. No one was strumming mindlessly on the sofa. No one was obnoxiously clacking pots and pans in the morning.

You had busied yourself with cleaning all morning. Changing the sheets. Fluffing the pillows. Tackling the last bits of laundry. Anything to keep you away from just sitting by the door. You even wiped up his favorite roast. More than sure that he had missed proper home-cooked meals. If you had a car you had probably driven to the airport yourself. Desperate. You were desperate to finally see him. Feeling slightly dazed by the level of both anxiety and excitement swirling in your body.

Your whole body stiffened when you heard the familiar jingle of the keys. A loud thud following suit as his bag hit the floor in the entrance room. Your body was drumming with anticipation yet you couldn’t seem to move. Not until your legs suddenly took off towards him. You barely caught a glimpse of his shit-eating grin as you rounded the corner. “Here you are, got me worried for a moment, thought that you packed up and…”, but iii’s words are cut off by you practically jumping into his embrace. Your arms wrap around his neck as you let yourself breathe him in. One of his arms wraps around your middle while he aimlessly runs his free hand up and down your thigh, before giving your bum a playful squeeze, “Missed me much?”, he muses, even if his own heart is threatening to leap out of his chest.

You pull back, eyes glazed with tears, “You tell me”, you crock out before cupping his face between your palms. “Don’t cry, baby, you got me back home, there’s no need for tears now”, he brushes his nose against you before leaning in to kiss you. It genuinely feels as if someone finally remembered to plug you into the electricity socket. As if you had been running on empty all this time and now, finally, you were catching a glimpses of feeling whole again.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you deepen the kiss, wrapping your legs even tighter around him. iii moans against you, kneading your ass. “Wine and dine me first, geez”, he pulls away breathlessly, before leaning into you to bite your bottom lip. “Shut up and get your pants off”, you grunt, pulling at the white shirt he’s wearing. A low laugh slips past his lips, “It’s starting to look as if what you missed most is my dick not me”, with one raised eyebrow he watches you halt before your eyes meet his. A mischievous smirk paints your face, “Oh, sorry, you thought I missed you?”, emphasizing the you part you tilt your head to the side, biting your lip. “Careful, baby, mighty thin ice you are walking on”, iii lets out a deep groan as you chuckle to yourself leaning in to brush your lips over his, “Just want to feel you closer, this doesn’t feel real”, you mutter, nuzzling into his neck once again. “Does this feel more real?”, his big palms push you closer to him. Making sure that you are rubbing right against the fully erect bulge in his pants. The sensation after weeks of mediocre orgasms is enough to send a shiver down your body. “Fuck, iii”, you moan, already feeling the wetness soaking your thong. “I intend to fuck you, trust me”, he grunts, “The thought of coming home to you alone had me hard the past couple of days”. There’s something both sweet and so sensual about his words. The knowledge of being able to affect him even when you are apart.

Knowing the apartment like the back of his hand, iii steps through the corridor, lips still linked with yours as he pushes the door leading to the bedroom with a firm kick. His hands reach for the hem of the shirt, pulling it over your head only for a sea of curses to follow suit. His hands reach out, pushing your breasts together as he flicks his fingers over the slowly hardening nipples beneath the mesh material. “Fucking hell, I missed you”, iii mutters, leaning in, biting at the swell of your breast before nuzzling against your chest. “Me or the titts?”, you throw his own words at him, making him chuckle, “Don’t be a hypocrite now”, he shakes his head.

“That’s my favorite bra”, in any other scenario being gawked on like that would make you want to hide. Curl into yourself. But not here. Not with iii. Whose eyes are practically black with lust as he takes his time, massaging each of your breasts between his fingers.

“I know”, you breathe out, pushing his head only further into your chest. And then his movements halt. Only for a moment but he stops. As if finally realizing that he is back. He is home. That you’re in his arms. His piercing blue eyes look up at you. “I fucking love you”, iii states pushing upwards to kiss you one more time, “You have no idea just how much I missed you”. Your fingers slip to the back of his neck, pulling him face-to-face with you. You know that he can see the same emotions in your eyes. So you don’t feel a single ounce of guilt as you mutter, “Say that while thrusting into me”. A growl-like sound slipped from the depths of his throat, “Bloody hell, you will make me bust a nut before I’m even inside you”, “Then talk less and thrust more”, you grunt, pulling at his sweatpants, letting your fingers slip between the waistband of his boxers.

“Fuck”, “Shit”, you both moan in unison from the touch alone. You could feel the precum dripping all over the hardness of him and he’s just so touch-starved at this point that the feeling of your fingers alone make his thighs shake. “Spread your legs”, he breathes against your neck and you waste no time following his wish. He pulls back for a heartbeat. Yanking his t-shirt over his head with one hand before dropping back down to kiss you. Letting his lips trail down your neck, reaching the valley of your breast before kissing each of your nipples over the mesh cup of your bra and only then moving swiftly to unhook it. The feeling of his stubble against your sensitive peaks making you arch against him.

“Fuck me already”, you cry out in frustration, trying to find friction between you both. “Let me worship you first”, his firm palm slowly itches between your thighs. A loud moan slips past your lips when he finally presses his thumb against your clit. You bite the inside of your cheek when he lazily circles it, putting just the right amount of pressure, making you grind into his palm, “Don’t hold back, I want to hear you”, he urges, leaning in to kiss the inside of your thigh before his lips hovers dangerously close to your heat. “iii, please, don’t play games, baby”, you whine, watching him watch you before he dives in, pressing a kiss to the center of your wetness before his teeth pull the soaked material of your thong off your body. “Shit, fuck me”, a breath hitches in your throat as you watch his movements. The way his eyes never leave you till the skimpy material is in his hands, carelessly being tossed to the side. iii stops to kiss the inside of your ankle, leaving a trail of kisses back to your core. And you know what he’s after. The way he licks his lips speaks volumes but you catch the side of his face, “Dick”, you grunt, “you can eat me out later”, it’s pathetic almost how you tremble at the thought alone. He doesn’t argue to your surprise. His big frame hovers over you as he pushes your legs apart for his likeing. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”, he hums, the very tip of his dick brushing over your folds, as he coats himself in your arousal. “iii”, you whimper, hands running down his chest. “Do you think you can still take me after six weeks apart, mhh?”, he nudges the very tip inside you making you melt in a deliciously warm feeling that spreads all over you. “Yes”, you nod eagerly, “All of it”, you mutter. “Really?”, iii muses, “Let’s see”, his hand reaches out to squeeze your throat as his eyes lock onto you. “Eye on me at all times”, he whispers against your lips before snapping his hips upwards, making you both cry out in pleasure. “Relax”, iii grunts, reaching out to pull one of your legs more to the side, “I can barely move when you’re squeezing me so tight, fuck”. Your hands grasp at his back as the feeling of that aching fullness fills your senses. “You’re so fucking big”, you mewl when he withdraws with a chuckle before thrusting back in, this time with much more force. “Fuck you feel…”, his head falls onto your shoulder when he finally nearly bottoms out inside you. “Baby”, you cry out, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper into your heat.

He slowly sets a steady pace. One that is enough to make your head spin. The sound of the headboard hitting against the wall and grunt after grunt filling the room. All this time his hands are there, guiding your hips onto his dick as he chased both of your releases. “So good”, you mutter, “just… there”, your head fell back onto the pillow when iii nudged just the right spot deep within you. “Like this?”, his eyes watch your agape mouth as you silently drown in ecstasy of one another. No words. No nods are needed.

His fingers slip between you both, lazily flicking your clit. “Fuck… fuck, iii, fu…”, you cry out for him once more before reaching for the back of his neck as you pull him closer, crashing your lips into his. The kiss drowning out the pleasure that shoots through your body. iii pulls away with a growl, throwing his head back as you feel him swell and twitch within your walls. “Love”, he muses, leaning in, swirling his tongue around your nipple, making you clench around him. Finally making you pull him over the edge. His grip on you tightens as his release chases right after yours. The slow thrust still making you both shiver with the last drops of orgasm.

Burying himself balls deep, iii stops, letting himself melt into the warmth of your body. You can feel his heart beating fast. Matching your own. Both breathing raggedly. He lifts back onto his elbows after a while, dazed eyes watching you sprawled on the sheets in front of him. “That’s one hell of a way to welcome me home”, iii muse, pressing his lips against yours, you just shoot him a smile. Too content to break the blissful daze. He moves to pull out only to be met with the iron grip of your thighs around his torso. “Baby…”, he grunts and you can feel him slowly hardening inside you once more. “Stay”, you muse, “Just till we go again”, “Again?”, iii raises his eyebrows at you, “Already?” You blink up at him innocently, “Afraid you can’t get it back up?”, you tease, earning yourself a harsh thrust as he yanks you onto his dick with both hands on your hips, “Oh, I can get it up just fine, you should be worried about getting up after, baby”.

[livfastdieyoung69]

Guys im in my mjf era!

Mjf x reader

Mjf being his usual douchebag self but reader being his soft spot yk? And someone using reader against him to get under his skin any of his old feuds would work for this so i dont mind 👀 just LOVE a protective feral man with very little regard for himself when it comes to the people he loves 🤭

HIGH FLYING BIRD

Sting had been your idol for as long as you could remember. For decades, all you ever wanted was to be like Sting. Now here you are- on the same damn roster as him. You worked with him, by his side, every damn week. Your few years in AEW had already given you so much more experience and advice than you could’ve hoped for, especially from Steve. The only downfall of working side by side with Sting was having to work with Darby who hated, much like many others, your partner.

Speaking of Darby, he bursted into catering with a scowl on his half-painted face. Sighing into your styrofoam cup of a crisp Dr.Pepper as he plopped down into the seat between you and the beloved man himself, Sting, you turned to face him.

”Yes, Darbs?” Of course, even with his bitching over your choice of a lover, he was still a friend. Sometimes. Darby scoffed and shook his head, crossing his arms and practically pouting in his seat.

”How in the hell are you with Maxwell? What do you see in him? Or is it, like, what you don’t see? Are you legally blind, Birdy?” It was your turn to scoff- at his remarks and the nickname. It’d caught on after you showed up to AEW and started doing crazy high-flying shit no one even knew was possible on day one.

“We’re not having this conversation again, Darby.”

“Yes we are. Is this a Stockholm syndrome thing? Blink twice if you need help.” Before you’re able to do anything besides point a finger in his face, you’re interrupted.

“Alright guys, let's just calm down here, please.” Steve- Sting- tries to calm the situation. Darby gives you a smug look from getting away with his remarks while you glare at him wholeheartedly.

”Talkin’ about me again, huh?” MJF leans over you, his usual asshole smirk on as his hands slide up your shoulders and lightly grasp at your sore neck, barely massaging it. Sore from saving Darby in your last tag team match with a dive through a table, actually. (And no. He didn’t say thank you. Steve did though.)

”Hey, baby.” You look up at him, glowering face replaced with a gentle smile that makes Darby cringe and grumble under his breath.

“Got somethin’ to say, dead boy?” Max asks from behind you, hands still working your neck as the atmosphere tenses even further. Steve tries to calm everyone again, but it doesn’t seem to be working as Darby stands from his chair, coming basically toe to toe with Max.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. You’re the worst damn decision they’ve ever made in the almost decade I’ve known them. I don’t even want to know how you’re manipulating them into this, but I’m sick and tired of it.” Darby’s voice keeps growing, filling the silence of the now quiet catering room, everyone watching their argument. Steve stands up, placing a hand on Darbs shoulder to try and pry him back. You might’ve gotten up to stop Max, but honestly, you just didn’t feel like dealing with this anymore. “All you’re going to do is leave them behind when you get whatever you want from them, and we’ll have to pick the pieces back up.”

Once again, Steve's attempt doesn’t work, and Max steps back into Darbys space, now quite literally toe to toe, chest to chest.

“I swear to God, the next time you suggest I would ever even imagine hurting them in anyway whatsoever, I will rip your fucking head off and let Wardlow play with it.” With a sigh, you get up from your chair and try to put a little distance from the two by pushing at Max’s chest but he won’t budge, he won’t even look at you. “Only reason I haven’t done it already is ‘cause of how much they like your little daddy over there. See how that works? If I hurt you, it’d hurt my Bird and I’d rather die than dream that into existence so I try my hardest not to think about hurting you. Let's keep it that way, capisce?”

Before Darby is able to reply, Max finally gives into your pushing and turns to leave catering, you in tow.

“Max,” You softly call for him, trying to keep up. “Max, baby,” You stumble to grab his hand and he finally comes to a stop. “Do you really have to keep threatening my friends? It’s really no wonder they don’t like you.” You teased him with a small smile, grabbing his hands in yours.

“Uh, Kris likes me, thank you very much, toots.”

”That doesn’t count, Kris just gets everything. Everyone else is dumb.” You lean back and forth on the ball of your heels, his hands keeping you stable before he gets sick of it and pulls you forward into his chest. “It’d be really nice if you could just be good for a little bit, please. Just a couple days is all I’m asking for here.”

He rolls his eyes, and gives a huge, fake groan up to the ceiling. He knew it’d make you laugh, he always knew what would. You pull your hands from his grasp and bring them up to his face, bringing him to look back at you.

“Be a good boy for me, hm?” You whispered, thumbs rubbing gently across his face. Judging from the blush covering his cheeks, it seems like you’d finally found a way to tame him.

Mwah ha ha ha this isn’t really what you asked for but kinda sorta they were rivals at one point so ???

he def says capisce and he also would def call you toots idc it’s canon in my heart

Also have no clue where the whole bird thing came from but its here and the title is the Jefferson Airplane song

Anyways kinda really like this one its cute