#egos x reader

[sierrale8ne]

ego / wnba!paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary you and paige have known each other since you were in diapers. but instead of becoming best friends like your parents had wished, you’ve disliked each your whole lives— for no real reason other than paige’s huge ego and your brattiness. until one annual family vacation reveals the true nature behind your quarrels. warnings 5.3k wc, sexual content, degradation, oral, fingering, choking, they’re both assholes. from lena i’m sorry this literally took forever, i have no excuses, but its here now. 😊

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @xxloveralways14 @pboogerswbb @tndaqlwifwy @wbbgetsmewetter @juspeaks @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @lupinqs @ykylalex @cherryswisherz @bueckersbitch @paigesbabygirl @ohmybueckers

It’s warm in Minnesota this time of year, blazing heat and a certain humidity in the air that makes the air stick to your skin. The wood of your chair pressing into the skin, but you don’t really mind.

Being at the Bueckers Cabin was a tradition. Every year since your father and Bob Bueckers met in college years ago. Your album of photos contained pictures from your first birthday, celebrated here, all the way through now. You could count on one week with all your family, friends, and other loved ones all piled up at this cabin.

You could also always count on some sort of issue between you and Paige.

It wasn’t ever something specific, but all it took was a secluded cabin, nagging aunts and uncles, and an almost uncomfortable summer heat to bring the arguments to surface.

Paige was arrogant. Always thinking she was better than somebody. It was cocky. The certain gleam in her eye when your mother complemented her manners, or when she overheard someone tell you ‘you should be more like Paige’. It triggered you to heights unknown. And you swore up and down that she knew— hence why she kept acting that way.

But she? She thought you were spoiled rotten. That, as an only child, your parents enabled you to be a brat. Paige hated it. The way you spoke to her like you were hot shit and just got away with it. Though, if you really looked deeper into it, you only got away with it because she herself let you.

It was a hatred that started young. Probably a stolen toy or a mean comment when you were in elementary school. But either way, it never ever went away.

Her UConn teammates tread outside to join you. Azzi, Caroline, and Ice walk out one by one, bottles of dripping water in their hands to quench any lingering thirst.

“Hey, Babe!” Azzi greets you. Her body drapes over the back of your seat and wraps you in a loose hug. You smile, obviously. It’s Azzi, her smile is addictive and scent is so warming that you can’t not smile back. 

You greet the other just the same and they each take seats alongside you getting comfortable on the other deck chairs. Music can be faintly heard, some 90’s music that makes all your aunts and uncles reminisce on their college days.

“Is Paige around?” The question from Ice nearly makes you roll your eyes. Her name triggers something within you. And even though you’ve gone since April without seeing her, your blood begins to boil as if she’d been annoying you all day.

You shrug passively and your eyes dart off to the side, the smell of barbecue suddenly much more interesting 

“You guys are still on that?” Caroline asks.

“On what?”

“You know what!” Azzi laughs. “I think you guys should just bury the hatchet. Give her a chance, I could see you two getting along pretty well actually.”

Before you get the chance to explain that there is nothing that could possibly be done to get you to like the girl, that she could get on her knees and apologize for everything and you still wouldn’t move on— the sliding glass door opened up. You turn your head to see your father calling you in with his hand.

“Come over here and help your mama!” 

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and instead you stand up.

You slide your sandals on your feet before you walk inside, the clacking of them against the hardwood clashes with the voices of your family. Upon entering the kitchen, you’re greeted with laughs which normally would make you smile if it wasn’t for the fact that it was your mom laughing with Paige.

The blonde had her hands occupied with grabbing the plastic utensils from the cupboard. She’s told some joke, one you know isn’t really all that funny, but your mom loves her and as a result laughs hard. 

It’s infuriating, how it seems like she’s gotten everyone from your parents to your brothers wrapped around her damn finger. She charmed them so easily, doing favors with that smile and occasional compliment. Enough to get on their good side but not enough to be deemed a kiss ass.

You fucking hated it. Hated her.

“Look who finally got off their ass.” Your mom teases, walking over and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Come mix this salad up for me, honey.”

“Yes ma’am.” You murmur, more upset that the instruction forces you to stand in front of Paige rather than literally anywhere else.

Taking the salad tongs in your hands, you do as asked. And Paige does her own thing as well, keeping quiet which you find somewhat surprising. It doesn’t take long, thanks to you mom already doing most of the work. You set the bowl of salad off to the side, and the second you do, you meet her eyes.

The blue briefly catches you off guard, like you weren’t expecting them. She doesn’t break eye contact with you for a single second, and you don’t either. It’s one of the few things Paige likes about you, (other than the way your ass looks in your shorts) how you never back down from her.

Ever.

It’s why arguments last so long and why your eye contact does the same.

Her smirk only spreads further, her lip just barely tucked between her teeth. A part of you swears she gets off on seeing you like this, visibly irritated by her presence alone.

She nods her head toward you as a greeting, one that you reciprocate out of kindness.

“You two are like kids.” Ms. Fuller interjects. She stands off to the side with your mother, a wine cooler in her hand. 

“We didn’t do anything.” Paige says, her face scrunching up on instinct.

“But you can’t even speak to each other?” It’s your mom’s turn to speak now, which makes you get more defensive than you probably should.

You kiss your teeth, planting your palms on the island. “We can talk to each other?”

“Then do it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, “hi.” You mumble, looking at the woman in her disgustingly blue eyes that just so happened to be raking over you. A part of you thinks you’re thinking things, but no, she really is eying you up and down. 

“Hey.” Paige can’t help but smile, copying your previous movements of pressing your hands to the counter. “See, we did it.” She says.

“We talk a lot anyways.”

“You argue a lot, that’s not the same.” Your dad’s voice comes from nowhere, as last time you saw him he was heading to the grill. 

Paige laughs. Audible and amused and annoying as ever. Like she agrees, which really doesn’t matter, but the thought of her thinking of you like that adds unnecessary flame to the growing fire inside you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out grilling?” You ask. 

“Food’s all done, everyone’s coming inside.” Your dad explains. Then he looks to Paige, clapping both palms on her shoulders. “I let your girls know you were in here, they were asking about you.”

Paige nods, an appreciative smile spreading on her face. “I ‘preciate that. Yo, princess, where the plates at?”

The pet name makes you freeze in your tracks. Paige has probably been calling you that since middle school, it’s nowhere near new. But there’s something different about it now, it sends a chill down your spine.

“One: don’t call me that. Two: check the cabinet.” You shrug, turning away from the island as people piled into the house. The sudden noise that came with all your relatives piling in, luckily shut out what Paige was saying to you.

“Yeah, I already did that, which is exactly why I’m asking you.” She calls out. There’s a certain bitterness in her voice that pisses you off.

You spin back around, slightly taken aback by how close she had come to you in a matter of seconds. Paige towers over you, all six feet of her working to intimidate you. “This is your dad’s cabin but you can’t figure out where the damn plates are?”

“I’m just askin’ a question, princess.”

“A stupid question. And I said quit fuckin’ calling me that—”

“See that’s that shit—”

“Enough!” Your mom is quick to cut you both off before the yelling even gets a chance to escalate. She steps between the both of you, trying her hardest to deescalate the situation. “You, run to the store and grab some paper plates. Paige go with her.”

If she wasn’t your mom you would’ve rolled your eyes until they got stuck in the back of your head. 

“She doesn’t need to come with me.”

“Ion need to go with her.” 

It’s like suddenly both of your parents' eyes lock on you and Paige, enough to get the both of you to shut up and let out matching groans as you head for the exit.

—

The cool air that comes from the sliding glass doors is almost considered a blessing in the July heat. You take the initiative to walk in front of the blonde in search of the paper plates, any opportunity to get some space from her since your argument.

You thought it would end the second you got in the car, which she insisted on driving. But no, you both had to argue about who’s playing music, who’s paying, who’s to blame for not getting plates in the first place (which in your heart and soul, you know is Paige).

So yeah, heated would be the right word to describe the both of you. But even as you were able to cool down, Paige couldn’t.

Not when you looked like that.

She hated you, that wasn’t something that she thought would change. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have eyes.

You were attractive, like beyond words. Add on the jeans shorts you wore and the expanse of your back that was left exposed by your tank top— she was riled up all over again.

It was like you did it on purpose. You chose to walk in front of her, chose to sway your hips like that, chose to piss her off on any given day even when she wasn’t in Minnesota. And there’s nothing more that Paige would like to do, than put you in your place. 

Talking is fun, but the grin that would come to her face after seeing you crumble under her would be even more fun. More exciting. Something that she’d always be able to bring up. How she won.

It didn’t take long for you to find the plates, the second you grabbed them you were quick to turn on your heels, nudging her shoulder a bit too harshly for her liking. A part of Paige wanted to grab you back by your belt loop, but she refrained.

She scoffs, licking her lips as she follows behind you. “Keep fuckin’ playin’ with me, bro. I don’t wanna be here any more than you do.”

“And if I do?” You respond with an over confidence that Paige has become quite familiar with in the over 20 years you’ve been around.

I’ll fuck the attitude out of you, is what Paige so dearly wanted to respond with. But instead she chooses to keep it as cordial as she can. “You wanna find out?”

And it’s something about how her voice lowers that makes your eyes soften and your guard lower, even in the midst of your eye contact. 

It’s small, so small that you barely even notice it yourself. But Paige isn’t dumb, she knows the effect that she has on women. Knows how that tone of voice makes girls want to squeeze their legs together. 

It’s just that this time, it’s you. The girl who she’s known her entire life, since you were the short nerdy girl at Hopkins with the braces. You’re grown up now, and Paige loves every bit of it, except she didn’t picture you like that. 

—

When you get back to the house, you’re quick to dissect yourself from Paige. She’d already been too close today, and her little stunt in the grocery store had you desperately racking your lungs for some air.

You sat on the deck alongside Caroline, who had seemingly grown tired of her teammates. 

You both are quiet, looking off into the sky and how the sun decorates it in an orange hue. Carol nurses and diet coke, and you switch out your empty plate of ribs for your twisted tea.

The sky looks pretty, but you can’t help but think Paige looks prettier. You hate how you can’t keep your eyes off of her. She’s glowing, and her skin is extra tan. Since the natty game in April, she looks stronger. Everywhere. Her arms, sure, but it’s her quads and calves too. And then when she leans back, stretching her arms over her head, you think her abs are even more defined too.

You can’t help but stare, it’s like she’s tempting you.

“You wanna know something?” Caroline starts, darting her head down to look at you.

“Hmm?”

“I think you have feelings for Paige.”

You nearly fold in half with how hard you start laughing. The blonde was hot, sure, but feelings for her was just plain… no. Not for you. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not! You like her, but you don’t like that because you’ve been beefing for years.” She starts, sounding like she’s putting together all the pieces. “So you fight and try to push her away.”

“If I liked someone, why would I push them away?”

“I dunno. I haven’t figured you out yet.” Carol shrugs. “But I do know that you like to argue. And Paige likes arguing with you even though she won’t admit it.”

“Whatever.” You sigh, if you kept your words to a minimum you’d avoid proving her right. You decide to get up from your seat, collecting yours and her trash to take inside. 

“Look, there goes your girl.” She jokes. Paige has decided to follow suit, dragging herself through the screen door and into the nearly empty cabin. 

“Goodbye, Caroline.” You sing on your way inside. 

Paige leans on the same kitchen island you both were arguing around hours ago. Her hands are attempting to open a beer bottle and struggling.

“You need help with that?” You ask.

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder at you before shaking her head. “Nah. I’m good, princess.” She dismissed you. 

When the bottle cap finally came off, she tossed it in the nearby trash, as you did the same with yours. You trail around the island, ignoring the feeling of her eyes on you as Paige moves closer. They’re like lasers, burning holes into your skin as you stop in your place near her.

“Can we talk?”

You immediately start getting concerned, probably more than you’d like to admit. Her tone shifted awfully fast, and you’re even quicker to put your guard up.

“What do you want, Paige?”

“Imma ask you something, and it’s just a yes or no question, so relax.” Paige dodges your question. She pushed herself off the counter, turning so she stands right in front of you. The spout of her beer bottle sits against her lips— her full, pink, lips. “Are you attracted to me?”

You dart your head away from her, deciding that looking Paige in the eye while she asks you that question is a recipe for disaster. 

“Bro, move.” You scoff, pressing your hand to her abdomen.

But she’s fast, grabbing your wrist before you get the chance to fully push her off of you. The sudden shift between you two was shocking. The balcony door was only some feet away, and if anyone outside looked hard enough they’d see you. But even then, the house was silent— other than your heavy breathing. 

It’s just you and Paige.

The ridges of her abs are evident even through her shirt, hard and warm from summer heat. For a second you think about how they’d feel under you. Each muscle on your clit, flexing, glistening from how wet you’d be. 

She takes another step, effectively pushing you further into the countertop. “Yes or no?”

Your head darts to the side, looking away in an attempt to hide the growing heat in your core. She was winning. Paige was winning and you fucking hated it almost as much as you claimed to hate her.

The blonde grips your chin, steadying her other, beer clad hand at your waist. The feeling is so foreign, but almost… normal? Her hand is cool, which is a nice contrast to the burning feeling of your own skin.

“Y’want me to ask again? Or you got it?” Paige makes a show of licking her bottom lip.

“I hate you, so no.”

“Do you?” She asks. The half empty beer bottle sits on the counter. Paige grips your hips to turn you around, and you can’t even fight it, she’s stronger than you, and even more determined to break you down.

“Paige…” You groan. The island digs into your hips as she presses into you from behind.

“‘Cause I thought I did too. But you wear these damn clothes and Ion think I do anymore.” Paige explains, her breath fanning your ear. 

She teases you with her hand at the hem of your shorts, playing with the frayed fabric near the curve of your ass. Paige does it like it’s a sixth sense, like she’s had you like this forever rather than it at all.

It makes your heart race, breathing quicken, panties dampen. Never in your life did you think that Paige fucking Bueckers would be the one to make you feel like that but here you are. Fucking soaked off of her. But you’d never let her know about how much she was affecting you. It was always a competition with her. You’d rather win than give her even the slightest upper hand.

“You’re a bitch.” You murmur. On any other day it would sound confident, like you believed it, but not today. Just with Paige standing behind you, you feel quiet and little.

Her hand travels to your hair, a part of her wants to tug it back as hard as she can but she chooses against it. Paige tucks a strand behind your ear and leans in closer. “Really? This bitch got you dripping down your legs right now.”

“I’m not doing this with you.” You grit through your teeth. With what little strength you have you turn around, hands pressed to Paige’s chest. “I’m goin’ back outside.”

“But we ain’t don’t talking, ma. Tell me why you hate me so bad.” 

Her voice lowers the same way it did in the store earlier. Gravely and a little tainted by alcohol.

You think about calling her a bitch again. The way you saw her face get all riled up was something you’d like to see again. Or tell her how much her big ego made you want to punch her. There’s a lot of reasons you thought you hated the girl, but all of them seemed minor in comparison to how fucking bad you wanted her.

Her mouth and those pretty pink lips. Her fingers curling inside you. Her moaning in your ear. It was like you needed Paige to survive.

“You think the fuckin’ world revolves around you.”

“Me? Says the princess who thinks everything should go her way.” 

You shove past her, finally seeing your exit opportunity. “Whatever, Paige—”

“Y’know, Ion like this attitude you got.” She starts, following you as you walk. You don’t know where, but you’re damn sure it wasn’t outside. “Because as soon as we get outta here, you’re back on that same shit.”

You stop in your tracks. “So fucking what! What are you gonna do about it.”

Paige nods her head, curt and amused. Her plump bottom lip just barely juts out towards you before she leans in. Her scent travels through your nose— Dior Sauvage, typical.

“Come wimme.” She brushes past you without a look back as she heads toward the basement. Paige can only hope you follow her, only hope that you want it as bad.

And you do. So you follow.

—

If it was anything you learned throughout your entire ordeal with Paige, it’s that she’s a damn good kisser.

Maybe she liked being yelled at. Or maybe she just thought you were fucking hot. Either way, the basement door shut, she was on you like white on rice. You both nearly fell down the stairs, hands grabbing whatever you could reach.

It was messy, teeth and spit and tongue, but it was otherworldly.

Paige tasted like honey, outrageously sweet despite the fact that she’d never been sweet to you. Her tongue roams your mouth, hands on your ass as she backs you into the wall.

“You can’t handle me.” You breathe, tangling your hands in her hair. “I should show you some’.”

Paige laughs, shaking her head into the kiss. "You've shown me enough. It's my turn, right? I been too nice.”

Her hand darts to your shorts, unbuttoning them and forcing them down your legs. Paige is fucking rough, like there’s nothing but rage rushing through her blood. And you want nothing more than for her to take it out on you. You’re the reason for it all anyways.

“Shit probably weak as hell anyways.” 

Paige kisses her teeth. “Take all this shit off.”

You make a show of bringing your hands to the hem of the cropped shirt as you bring it over your head. It joined your shorts on the carpeted floor, leaving you in front of Paige in nothing but your purple panties. It’s almost coincidental that the woman she fought with whenever she was around now stood here in her favorite color. 

She tucks her lip between her teeth, bringing her hand to your waist. 

“No bra like a damn slut, huh?” Her tongue clicks on the roof of her mouth, almost like she’s shaming you. But you don’t mind, you almost like it too much.

She decides to reach for your tits, squeezing them in her palms in a rough manner that makes you gasp and arch into her. Paige plays with your nipples, fingers rolling over them, feeling them get hard as she drips into her boxers.

“You wanna fuck me or keep talking shit?”

“I can’t do both?” Paige asks as she kisses you. It’s anything but soft. Her hands grip your boobs harder, tongue licking at your own. It’s like she’s trying to become one with you, take over your whole body. “Gotta make you my fuckin’ whore.”

She pulls away again, only for a second, before she kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck. Her tongue was hot and wet as she sucked against a spot under your jaw that made your fucking knees weak.

It was like Paige knew you already. She was good at making you sweat from anger, but she was damn good at making you sweat like this. Making your thighs press together to relieve that pressure.

Her lips trail lower and lower, down to the center of your chest which she makes a show of licking. 

Paige kissed patterns down your thighs, starting sweet until her teeth dig into them. She does it over and fucking over, marking you in the most painful way she can think off all while staring up at you through her lashes.

It was a sight you wanted burned in your brain forever. Paige, on her knees, lips on your body like she was worshiping you. Maybe there was a reason why her ego was so big, because she was already going to make you come and your panties hadn’t even come off yet.

“Paige… just, fuck.” You press your head back against the wall, cupping her head with your hand. “Fuckin’ eat me.”

Her blues dart down to your cunt, the cotton material suddenly darker than the rest of your panties. “You’re wet as hell, ma. Been wanting my tongue on you for how long?”

Your pussy throbs in your panties as a result. You could never tell her the real answer, that somewhere along the line of you knowing Paige you’d trail your hand down in your pants and think about her. Or that you would wish all those girls that she’d be with were secretly you.

So instead you say, “why the hell would I— fuck— want you?” The stutter comes from her thumb on your clothed clit, applying pressure that makes your eyes water. Paige pulled your panties down slowly, they pool on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely fucking naked.

A string of your slick sticks follows down with your underwear. “Whatchu dripping for then, princess?” Her hand grips your bruised thigh, guiding it over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me it’s Azzi that got this pussy like this?”

You tug her hair, watching her groan at the pressure. She thinks about leaving you like this, wet and horny and nude, stopping you from even having a chance at getting off. But your scent alone makes her change her mind. She’s a bitch to you but not that fucking bitchy, not enough to taint her reputation by not letting you come.

So she licks her lips, leaning into and wrapping her lips around your clit. That eye contact you always seem to have with her doesn’t stop even for a second. 

“God, P. J-just like that.” You moan, hips bucking into her mouth. 

Paige’s tongue licks through your folds. She’s so fucking into it, like your taste alone could make her full for centuries. It’s damn near the best head you’ve had in your life, her tongue knows exactly where to touch and flick, her lips know the perfect pressure to suck. She was fucking good.

“You got no clue how fuckin’ good you taste.” She murmurs, tongue stretched flat over your cunt. The sounds of her sucking and your slick bounce off the walls. “This pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

Your legs shake, inching closer and closer to your precious orgasm. Your other hand travels to her hair, fucking your hips into her fast. It pisses the blonde off, her obvious need for control over you more important.

“Paige gimme mmph more. I need it, baby.” You grunt. 

Her hands tug your own off of her. She pins them to your sides, dragging her tongue inside your cunt then out over your clit. Your moans get louder, you’re lucky that all your relatives are outside or you would’ve gotten caught forever ago. 

Paige’s nose brushes against your clit, aiding to the sensitivity. And the second you think about announcing your climax, she pulls back from you. A shit-eating grin covering her soaked face.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Paige wipes your near orgasm from her mouth. “What’d I do, mama?”

“You know what you did, you asshole!” Your hand presses against her chest, an attempt to shove her back but Paige is obviously stronger than you had imagined.

Her demeanor shifts in a matter of seconds. She trails her hands to the back of her collar, tucking her shirt off and behind her. Her black sports bra accentuates the tan of her skin, revealing just enough of her abs to make you want to get on your knees and fucking lick them. 

Paige grips your chin. Your jaw falls slack as a result. You don’t know what to really expect, but when you watch her saliva fall from the tip of your tongue, you almost pass out. It lands in your mouth a hot glob that tastes just like you did. She wipes the dribble from your lips and you swallow without a second thought.

“See, always talkin’ to me crazy. That’s why I do that shit.” She presses. Deciding to spin you around, she does, pushing up against the wall so close that you can smell the paint. Paige hand curls around your neck, applying enough pressure to knock your head back onto her shoulder. “I fuckin’ hate your ass, y’know that?”

You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of her free hand brushing over your cunt. “Really? ‘Cause I always catch you staring at it, babe.”

Your hands press to the wall as Paige forces her knee between your thighs, spreading you apart until a pain shoots up your thighs. “Tell me how bad you hate me.”

“Why, does it turn you on?” You question, pushing back against her for any type of friction.

She breathes into your ear, following that with a bite. The blonde tugs on your earlobe, grinning to herself at the groan you give her as a result. “So bad, ma. You turn me on.”

Her fingers follow immediately after. You’d think that she’d be nice enough to give you a minute but she didn’t, forcing two fingers inside you like she couldn’t care less about anything but stretching you out.

“I, fuckkkkk! I hate—hate how sexy you are. Hate how wet I get around you.” You moan. Paige curls her fingers, seemingly pleased with your words.

Her grip on your neck tightens as she speeds up, pushing and curling and twisting her fingers so deep inside you can’t be quiet. Not when it feels that good. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Yes!” You cry. The noise of your cunt fills your ears, the trickle of your wetness travels down your leg as you struggle to keep up. Paige slips in a third finger and your knees buckle. “Daddy…it’s too much.” You whimper.

“Yeah, it’s like that?” Her fingers are breaking you apart, moans falling from your mouth so loud you’re surprised you haven’t gotten caught yet. “Watchu want, princess?”

“M’ gonna come. Please, please I’m so close.” You moan, arching your back further at the pleasure of it all. 

Your hands try to steady yourself on the wall, trembling at the pressure of her fingers against your g-spot. Your pussy clenches around her fingers, dripping down them as you cry out her name over and fucking over.

“There’s those manners, ma. I ain’t even know you’d had ‘em with how you cuss at me.” She grumbles in your ear. “Fucking hot.” 

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Oh, Paige!” Your orgasm hits like you’ve never fucking imagined, dripping all the way down your legs to the carpet. Your breath is heavy, tits pressed against the cold wall as she works you through it.

Paige trails her fingers out, wiping them against the back of her shorts. “Did we really just—”

“Yeah.” You pant.

There’s a beat of silence in the room, the occasional sounds of fireworks going off down by the lake as they do every year. But instead you’re here, sweat coating your body and your cum down her fingers. Paige’s fingers.

Then her phone starts ringing, and you’re reminded that there’s a life outside of the basement in which you hate Paige and she hates you right back.

You turn to face her, how swollen her lips are, how missed her hair is. “We’ll talk later?”

You nod, thinking that’s the end of it until she cups your face and kisses you. There’s a certain passion behind this one, less tongue and more sweetness. It's the sweetest Paige has been to you, well ever.

“Yeah, later.”

And then she’s grabbing her shirt and darting up the stairs. 

But not before pointing out that you should cover the hickeys on your thighs.

[aninipanin1]

WHO'S THE PRETTY GIRL?

The Blue Lock players were expecting a lot from the Neo-Egoist League, but what they did not expect was the fact that their manager would attract the eyes of their masters enough for them to ask them about her.

Notes: Reader is implied a female and is in her mid-20s (25 to 27, but whatever age works for you guys). The Blue Lock boys loves Reader platonically, almost like their older sister. The love interests are of course the Masters (except Loki)

LAVINHO

"Coach-! Ehh..?"

Bachira stopped in his tracks as he entered the door to the field. Unfortunately for him, Otoya and Kitsunezato followed suit and bumped into the boy.

"Ow man, what's wrong with you?"

Otoya, who got the brunt of it due to hitting his nose on Bachira's head, complained. Meanwhile, Kitsunezato just tilted his head as to why Bachira just stayed in his place.

"Bachira-san? What's wrong?"

Bachira then slowly tilted his head. His golden eyes looked at the scene in front of him where you, their manager, talked quite amicably with the Spanish Coach.

This was not much of a surprise to any of them, for you always tried your best to get involved in the boys' training to make sure they were improving while also having ample time to rest. You always reasoned how they were still in their teens and needed proper guidance with a proper and mature adult (since Ego can't really be trusted on that part), so you talking to the masters were no surprise.

What got Bachira, and in turn Otoya and Kitsunezato, raising eyebrows was the fact that for the first time in, like, forever since they met him, Lavinho was quiet. His mouth was zipped, zilched, as he just looked and listened to whatever you were saying.

Lavinho was a man very passionate in his craft, and there are many times where he would say his own input when it comes to the sport, with cheerful countenance too. But, at that moment, he was as quiet as a stone.

"The hell is up with him?"

Bachira asked quite curiously. Kitsunezato just shrugged while Otoya formed a small smirk, seeing how not only was Lavinho quiet in front of you, but the man was also a little too close to you. Adding to that, Lavinho's eyes were literally ogling you, which the white haired striker did not like.

Otoya was all too familiar when it came to flirting and the look of attraction, and man, was his coach making it quite obvious he found you, their manager, attractive.

"Oh lord, not this again."

Bachira turned to Otoya, completely oblivious.

"What?"

"Can't you guys see? Coach is making goo-goo eyes on our manager. He's too obvious, geez."

Kitsunezato only let out an "oh" of understanding. Meanwhile, it took Bachira a while to get what Otoya was saying, and by the time he realized, you were already gone from the field.

"WAIT- YOU MEAN-! NOOOOOO!!"

The two other players jumped at Bachira's sudden outburst, as the boy sprinted to where Lavinho was still stuck on his position, standing up, hands on the Football basket as if it was his only support.

"What? Yo, Bachira-"

"NO! YOU CAN'T BE WITH HER, COACH! I WON'T ALLOW IT! YOU'RE NOT GONNA MAKE Y/N-SAN HAPPY! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Lavinho was taken aback at the sudden frowning face of Bachira. He got what the boy was talking about as he pulled up a mischievous smirk.

"Hey, you don't know that, blondie. I can treat her well ya know?"

But Bachira was not having it. He loved you like a sister, and there was no way he would allow you to date someone who can not make you happy.

Otoya sighed and held the scruff of Bachira's sweater as the boy tried to struggle like a feral cat. Kitsunezato then spoke out.

"Didn't you just meet her, coach?"

"Yeah, but can't I appreciate a beauty? Especially one with brains like hers. Beautiful women are attractive, yes, but when they're smart and have their own original opinions, they become hotter in my eyes."

Otoya chuckled at that, Bachira became even more feral, like a child in Otoya's hold while Kitsunezato sighed at this.

"Sheesh, what did she even say to you?"

"I asked her about many things and suggestions in your guys' training, and well, her answers are very fun and interesting, to say the least. Do one of you have her number? I didn't get it from her earlier."

Bachira just shook his head violently, for he had your number and refused to give up your info to his coach.

CHRIS PRINCE

"Yo, Reo. Have you seen Prince?"

Reo turned to Chigiri, who had just entered the training field. It was yet another day of training in the English Stratum. Most of the players are scattered in the facility to do their own training from the regime given to them, leaving Reo, Nagi, and now, Chigiri alone in the field.

Nagi laid out on the grass of the field as him and Reo rested for a bit. The purple-haired player tried to recall where he had seen the English Master.

"Hmm, I remember him saying that he had a meeting with Ego along with the rest of the masters. Maybe he hasn't come back from it yet?"

"Really? Hmm, I guess I'll just wait for him here."

"Go on."

The three remained in the field, Nagi slowly snoring away in the grass as Reo and Chigiri watched a recording of their previous plays on a tablet. It was all quiet until the door to the training field opened, revealing Chris Prince, who probably just came from his meeting.

"Oh, good thing you guys are here! I actually wanted to ask you guys something!"

The blonde man grinned as he put his arm around Chigiri and Reo, one for each player as the two raised an eyebrow at him. They knew he was eccentric and a bit...touchy, but he never did this before. Reo then decided to speak.

Chris pulled out his phone, whistling innocently.

"What is it?"

"Do one of you know or have your manager's number?"

"Yes, we three have it. Why?" Chigiri responded, and that made the grin on the professional player's face widen.

"Great! Can you put it in my phone?"

Now that made the two blink as Chris threw his phone in Reo's hands where the phone app was already open. Reo grew a bit more suspicious of this.

"And why do you need Y/n-san's phone number? You two just met in the meeting, I'm sure of it."

The man shrugged, but it was obvious to the two that he was hiding something.

'Weird, I feel like I'm having deja vu...oh wait-'

Chigiri suddenly remembered one certain group of professionals asking him the same thing back in the second selection. The redhead's once curious expression turned into a bored and rather done expression. He then raised his arm and pulled a way from his master's hold.

"Nope, I already know what you want Y/n-san's number for."

"Oh, come on, Hyoma. Don't be like that! I'm not that bad-"

"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, don't you have fangirls? I don't want Y/n-san to be with someone who'll be a hassle to be with."

Reo added, finally getting the implications. He wondered what the coach heard or saw from you for him to immediately ask them for your number. Reo always knew you were beautiful, kind, and responsible. That's why most, if not all, the players in the facility trusted and are quite attached to you, viewing you as some sort of maternal and comforting figure that Blue Lock can not provide alone.

But, he was interested in how you managed to reel in the attention of the second best striker in the world. And, so he did ask, and boy, did he, along with Chigiri who listened regretted. Chris just started to tell them about how not only were you a sight for sore eyes, but absolutely smart and egoistic in your own right even as a manager. About how, even if you had that side to you, when you were not talking about football, you were very kind, caring and very open.

Chigiri responded, his words made a hollow, almost bitter chuckle from the professional player's mouth.

"Yeah, Y/n-san is amazing, but you rave about her like it's your first time meeting a genuinely good person."

"When you are in the spotlight, most people you meet tend to have ulterior motives, and even, different personalities. It's attractive to see a woman both passionate about her craft yet still serious about her morals."

Reo sighed, agreeing to what his master said. But, he was a bit miffed that there was another guy they had to watch out for. He could not help but let out a sigh.

'Y/n-san, you attract the most troublesome guys around here.'

MARC SNUFFY

"Is it just me, or does he look quite distracted with Y/n-san?"

Niko innocently commented as he, Aryu, Barou, and Oliver, watched their master and manager talk from afar while doing their stretching. It has been a few days since the Neo-Egoist League commenced, and everyone in the facility became busier than ever.

You, being the manager, of course, were one of the busiest as you tried your best to take care of all the 5 stratums with only a little help from other staff members due to their own jobs. It was hard, but you always managed for the boys. So that is why you find yourself currently talking to the foreign coach, asking about the improvements of the Blue Lockers who are under his wing currently.

"Hah? So what? She's talking to him, so of course he'll listen."

Barou said in his usual rough tone, with a hint of confusion as to why Niko had to point that out. Oliver on the other hand, just smirked.

"Ah-ah, you don't understand, though, Your majesty. The look in our dear master striker's eyes is something you can only see in the eyes of someone feeling something to someone whom they are talking to."

"That was just confusing." Niko quipped.

"What are you even proposing?" Barou raised an eyebrow.

"What if, Snuffy-san, over there...likes her?" Oliver smirked. His claim immediately made Barou roll his eyes before walking away, not believing it. Niko and Aryu only tilted their heads in confusion, not seeing their master as someone who would fall in love or even have a trivial crush on someone he just met a few weeks ago.

"You probably hit your damn head, dumbass."

"I don't think he's like you, Aiku." Niko commented, making the defender mutter an "Oi," before moving on with the topic.

"It's just, I've been hearing gossips from the other stratums that the master's have been...a little too close to our manager these past few weeks. Who knows?"

"And praytell, where the hell did you hear this from?" Barou asked.

"From Otoya and Chigiri-"

"Not surprised. You three are quite the gossipers." Niko added.

"Very glam yet not at the same time."

"Well duh, of course. Have you not seen their coaches? Childish as hell. Ours ain't all like them." Barou rolled his eyes.

"You have a point. But hey, I said it here. If you all are wrong, you owe me."

They turned back to you and Snuffy and saw that you were already bidding your goodbye to the master coach, your phone between your ear, probably another one of your managerial and staffly responsibilities, they didn't know, but it was quite common to see you run about the halls of the facility.

Snuffy soon joined them, waiting for the rest of the players on the field since it was still quite early and training was to start in a few more minutes. The other four Blue Lockers only being there due to a plan they formulated and wanted to reenact before practice.

They see the coach looking quite happily down at his phone, seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing as he typed away on it. With the four players feeling quite curious as to why he had such...an abnormally happy grin, they approached Snuffy to ask, and suffice it to say, they were a little bit surprised with what he said next.

"It's nothing, I'm just happy Miss Y/n finally gave me her number, although it is under the guise of talking about you, Blue Lockers, and your training. It's still worth it."

"Y/n-san's number?" Niko asked to which the coach nodded.

"Yes, I wanted to get to know her more, is all. I wanted to ask some of you about her, but I reckoned it's better to get to know her myself and at the same time, get closer to her. It's like killing two birds with one stone."

"That is glamourously...logical." Aryu commented.

"What do you mean by get to know her more?" Niko asked.

"Hm? I meant in a more personal level. Oh, by the way, I heard most of you are quite close to her, especially you, Niko, since she always talks about you. Can you tell me what the things she likes are? I would prefer to know it now, just to be advanced."

The boys were taken aback by the question, their thoughts running wildly, but all of them were all thinking the same thing.

'I didn't know he could be that smooth when it comes to women...' The Blue Lockers sweatdropped in their minds.

NOEL NOA

"So, was no one planning to tell me that our master is dating Y/n-san?"

Yukimiya entered the canteen where the rest of the Blue Lockers under Bastard Munchen were having their dinner. As usual, it was quite loud with Raichi yelling nonsense at Gagamaru, while Isagi tried to pull him away. Kurona, Hiori, and Kiyora were the only ones quiet in their own seats, eating their food away.

Isagi raised an eyebrow, his hold on Raichi loosening as his eyes were focused on Yukimiya, or rather, the brunette's words.

"Huh? Y/n-san and Noel Noa dating? Where did you hear that from? I didn't know."

It was not just Isagi who got their attentione peaked. The rest of Blue Lock players also were quite curious as to how and why Yukimiya thought that the striker was dating you, their manager.

"I saw him asking her about a restaurant in Tokyo. It kinda sounds like they, or mostly Noa-san were planning a date."

"Huh? Now that I think about it, Noa-san has been quite close with Y/n-san lately." Hiori said, thinking back to the past weeks ever since the Neo-Egoist League started.

"Whatever it is, I think we shouldn't really get involved. Their personal and dating life is none of pur business anyways." Isagi sighed as he started to eat his own food. After all, most of them had a lot on their plates already too.

With training, the League, Blue Lock as a whole, and the upcoming U-20 World Cup, it was a little hard to find gaps or time to care about trivial things not concerning them.

But, that mindset immediately vanished after a few days later, when they saw Noel Noa, the best striker in the world, known for his stoicism and cold logic on and off the field. A man who can keep his cool and straightforward attitude any second of the day, seemingly panicking inwardly as his eyes scanned his phone.

Turns out, he did not get to save your number, the one you kindly punched in for him the past week (he pretended to get it for the sake of the Neo-Egoist League and the Blue Lock players of course), and well, since you were kind of an elusive figure most times of the day, having so many responsibilities, he did not know where else to communicate with you.

Sure, he can use the management system given to the masters to call for your assistance, but those are used in emergencies, and he did not want to disturb or scare you, thinking that something wrong happened when he just wanted to speak with you, in a more casual terms.

Nope, he was not illogical and irresponsible like that. So, instead, he finally let his pride down a bit and went to his players to ask something that shocked most of them.

"Can I get your manager's number?"

Nothing was heard except Raichi spitting out water from his water bottle on the grass the training field provided. Isagi, who was the one Noa asked, just blinked at his master's question or, rather, request due to the tone of his voice.

"Um, sure. I can put it in for you, Noa-san."

The albino man only nodded his head and gave the boy his phone. Isagi, meanwhile, was taken quite a back, his expression one of disbelief and resignation.

'Well, Its not like this is the first time someone asked us for Y/n-san's number anyways.'

Compared to Isagi, the rest of the Bastard Munchen players were less calm about it. Raichi's mouth, along with Kurona's were still wide. Yukimiya was blinking, eyes wide in disbelief as if he was hallucinating, and Hiori who had literal spirals for his eyes, the situation making him feel quite dizzy.

"I never knew, he can be like...this."

"Me neither." Hiori responded to the shocked claim Yukimiya said, not used to the master of the German team acting like this.

"Well, I mean, are we even surprised? This feels like the World 5 incident all over again." Kiyora, who just arrived, sat with them, remembering the ending of the 2nd selection where they met and faced international players, and needless to say, most of them were not even hiding the fact they found you attractive and wanted your details.

"Right, right, I forgot about that." Kurona muttered. But, Yukimiya just ended things with a shrug, watching Isagi give the coach his phone before running off to join the rest of them.

"Well, it is a shock. But, its not like we can do anything about it. Y/n-san is just like that, she attracts the most...um, diverse people to her. Probably, the reason why she also has a lot of fans worldwide."

The rest nodded, returning to their training, knowing deep down that, no matter how much they wanted to fight off the men who were interested in you, it cannot be helped when their manager was just someone like you, and they would never ever change you for the world.

After all, you are the elder sister figure they did not know they needed in this asylum-like facility and no professional football player who is attracted to you, can change that.

BONUS!

"Hmm, I think with the power of Y/n-chan alone, we can convince the rest of the World 5 players before to come again-" Anri tried to recommend only to be given a heavy glare by Ego, who found the idea less than appealing.

"No, these four are enough of a headache to be around her. I don't need Blue Lock TV turning into a dating show."

"..."

"I know you're jealous, but-"

"Just do your work, Anri-chan. That way, we can get this thing over with."

With that, the woman shrugged and left the room, heading off to find you to hopefully ask for your help in other work around the facility.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Y/n: Hello, I am the manager of Blue Lock-

The Masters and the World 5: Already off to buy the ring, prepare our future house, adopting 6 cats and planning our retirement days and building our coffins together. Anything else we're forgetting?

Blue Lockers: Yes. The fact that you literally just met her?

The Masters and the World 5: ...

The Masters and the World 5: I fail to see the problem with that-

This is based off of that small headcannon I posted a few months ago (i think?) And well, this took me a while to post but I finally finished it lol. By the way, this Y/n is different from the other manager Y/n from my previous post. That Y/n is a minor (15, 16 or 17, depending on you, reader) and her lpve interests are the minor characters. While this Y/n is an adult and here love interests are the adult players and characters. Like I said, when I say Masters and World 5 in this, I only mean the adult ones, not Loki. Loki is the love interest of Minor Manager Y/n sooo yeah! Hope you enjoy!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →

"You don't look well—"

"Don't."

You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi. 

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

Naaah.

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who accidentally finds out who you gave your first kiss to after being under the impression you still had it.

sure, you both were reaching an age where most people had already kissed another, been bedded, under-age drank, but kaiser never took you as the type to be so… promiscuous (“your dad was okay with it?” he had asked. “why the hell would i tell my dad about that.” your eye roll had never been louder.)

it was apparently some classmate you had dated briefly back in early high school, a time where you had both were barely able to see each other since kaiser spent some time in jail after being framed and after being bailed out by his manager, spent the majority of his time in his team’s training clubhouse. it didn’t help that it was quite a few towns away from your own, so communication grew weary between you and him during that time.

so when you and him finally reconnected and began to settle down with each other once again at an older age, where you and him were blooming into college, he’s amazed to see how much you had grown during the past few years, how your featured had matured into themselves so elegantly that sometimes, when you weren’t looking, he’d examine each bit of your features to get a proper look.

it was a little difficult attempting to gain a proper stance from him, since all the training at bastard mündchen had clearly done a work on him both good and bad, but when kaiser felt himself relaxing more and more with each frequented interaction with you—he’s brought back to when you were both children and didn’t know any better of the world around you.

so imagine his shock when you accidentally let it slip out that your first kiss went rather wrong as you and him are watching some sort of foreign sports movie where the main character’s long-time love interest finally kisses him.

“god i remember my first kiss,” you say casually, making kaiser snap his neck towards you so fast.

first kiss? you had your first kiss already? before he did???

sure, kaiser had a good amount of fans that flocked to him every chance they got and perhaps he’s done a little bit of entertaining to them, but even so—he still hasn’t necessarily had such a moment shared with another. he never felt like he needed to focus on it… never felt like it was some deed worth prioritizing becoming the best striker… until now.

“huh?” kaiser shuffles in his place and furrows his brows tightly, a vein barely visible from his forehead. “whaddya mean first kiss? with who? when?”

the questions shoot out all at once, you can’t help but laugh at kaiser’s (supposed) curiosity. you suppose the suspense of knowing what happened to that runt he met at eight years old has experienced since his arrest.

“oh, it was just a classmate from one of my sophomore classes,” you wave a hand, as if it was completely nothing to hold much regard to.

kaiser twitched, his eyes flickering towards your ripened lips. “and you gave him your first kiss?”

“probably my last too,” you sigh out wearily, “haven’t really had much people interested in me since then.”

he fell silent, going to scan your face again once more as you fixated your gaze to the tv, circling in on your lips again that give a soft pout. he twitched.

“he got too excited and ended up moreso clashing his mouth on mine—we ended up clacking teeth pretty hard,” you snort out as you stare in quiet amazement at how tender and soft the tv’s couple’s kisses were. “it ended up hurting too much to try and continue.”

you bite your lip, concentrated. “i dunno, i just wish it was more slowly, more… in-the-moment.”

kaiser twitched once more. noticing your wistful gaze at the movie playing in front of you and him. he flickers his eyes toward the intimate scene that you seem so focused on. he pays attention to how the lips of the two characters flow in a certain rhythm and how they meld into each other. they seem loose, relaxed, and that lack of tension made the kiss seem much more romantic.

he thinks back to some of how his teammates greet their girlfriends with kisses, or how he’ll just see a random couple locking lips with each other in the bars his team and him tended to as a celebration of a victorious game. kaiser had never felt a compulsion to experience such a thing, but there’s a strange magnetic feeling he’s getting that tugs him closer to you that is very much not his own rationale’s doing.

he says it with too much confidence. he says it like he’s done it numerous times before, like he’s a master at it, despite never even paying such avid attention to another’s lips until now. so kaiser doesn’t know why, but he suddenly blurts out,

“then let me show you a proper kiss.”

[airybcby]

Call It What You Want To

(soft launching with the bllk boys)

a / n — i love soft launches and blue lock…so why not combine them?

content — fluff, cutesie stuff, bllk characters x fem! reader, pretty much gn! but i did use ‘she’ so just to be safe, + your faves if you want!!

synopsis — soft launches with the boyfies <3

✿.｡. “ nobody’s heard from me for months , ” .｡.✿

is NEVER on social media. has accounts of course, but never posts on them. usually the most they do is repost things about soccer on their stories. so when they post these pictures as their first post EVER? it’s inevitable that their fans are going to go insane.

they preferred posting these pictures, neither of your faces showing. you’d both decided to keep your relationship “private but not secret” , if someone were to find out it was you in these photos? so be it. they would never dream of hiding you from the world.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ RIN ITOSHI, barou shouei, sae itoshi, jinpachi ego

they don't have many posts, but the ones they do have no less than a million likes each. their fans are adoring, so when they post a new photo, thousands of people get the notification and within seconds the post has 200k likes.

their fans are insane, and that's putting it lightly. they find your account within a minute all by looking at your phone case and finding your account.

the both of you wake up the next morning and find yourselves not only trending on twitter, but also with thousands of edits made of the two of you. AND A SHIP NAME??

so much for a soft launch.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YUKIMIYA KENYU(im biased), shido ryusei, MICHAEL KAISER, hyoma chigiri

a chronic poster. i mean literal photo dumps GALORE. they had many fans, obviously with them being a famous soccer player, but also because of how 'real' they were. they would constantly post stories in the bathroom and ranting- all that fun stuff.

their fans had no indication that they'd been in a relationship at all. which was strange because due to their openness, their fans began thinking they deserved to know every little thing about them.

they just wanted to keep you their little secret for a little bit, so they posted these very inconspicuous photos and had the internet up in a frenzy.

soccerluver44: WHO IS THIS??

urmomshouse: no way

and thousands of comments just like that flooded their inbox.

this was fun, they thought. maybe for a little while longer they'd keep you their little secret. the thought crossed their mind as they pressed the 'your story' button, posting a photo of them sitting on the sink with your arms wrapped around them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MEGURU BACHIRA, isagi yoichi, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

not a constant poster, but definitely has a social media presence. they mostly post about their upcoming games and where to get tickets and watch. they definitely don't post about their personal life, so when people log on and see a soft launch??

the world goes into a state of shock. the comments are limited, so no one besides people they follow back (most of which who already knew of the relationship) are allowed to comment.

they did this on purpose. they saw no point in having strangers question them when the caption said it all

" spoiling my girl <3 "

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REO MIKAGE, tabito karasu, jyubei aryu, DON LORENZO

✿.｡. “ i'm doing better than i ever was ” .｡.✿

took myself to the computer version to do this since there's a photo limit on the mobile version.

hope yall liked it though, i've never done anything like this before!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[adalwolfgang]

This was adorable and fun to read.

Hello! Ive recently stumbled upon your blog and I love the owl and the mama!y/n headcanons---

If you still take request, A pheonix y/n with the egos?

Feel free to ignore the request :3

Oh my gosh, yes. I love phoenixes. They’re so awesome.

So a lot of the Y/N/Reader HCs are gonna be at least slightly my own interpretation.

So, your wings give off heat, but also embers, just like a fire. Luckily, since they’re moreso magic than normal flame, they only ignite things they touch when your emotions are running high.

You preen, just like any other bird. You have some extra flexibility that comes from being a phoenix, but that only goes so far to let you reach places you otherwise couldn’t. You still need help. It’s not a huge deal usually, as you usually don’t get very dirty or do much that upsets your feathers, but it is still not good.

It’s only once the Egos find you that your feathers get fully preened again. It’s a bit difficult at first, as they have to find someone who can handle the heat of directly touching your feathers, but once they do, it’s like a whole new world has been opened up to you. You had forgotten what it was like to have a fully groomed coat (so to speak).

Like Owl Hybrid!Y/N, you have a flexible neck. You can’t do what they can, but your neck can still bend and twist in odd ways. You just don’t have the ridiculous range of motion that Owl!Y/N does.

Illinois is enraptured by you immediately. Illi loves his folktales and mythology, so he knew what you were the second you unfolded your wings in front of him for the first time. He’s very suave. He flirts with you all the time.

Dark’s very interested. Phoenixes are real??? Hm. Every now and then he catches himself admiring your majesty, and has to tear himself away so no one else notices. But of course Wil notices.

Wil is over the roof. He’s going to try to book you for an interview right away. He’s legitimately giddy. Wil’s not very educated in mythology and folklore, but he still knows of several of your phoenix characteristics because of his knowledge of their reality. So for instance, he knows he can’t stab or shoot you if things go wrong with the interview, because you’ll just heal right back. Not that he would do that anyway. Wil’s actually almost scary with the amount of stuff he knows. You start having some sort of issue because you’re a phoenix? He’s immediately walked off to get you whatever it is you need. You just look at him like, ‘wtf?’

Yancy is a simp. Straight up. Simp. He’s infatuated. But not immediately. First, you had to prove yourself in his eyes. That was immediately taken care of the moment he saw you send a few fireballs after the Actor because the man had been testing his luck with you. Yep. This man is full on puppy dog eyes.

Google’s neutral. Or at least, he tries to be. However, Google is naturally a curious, studious being, so he becomes interested in you rather quickly. Alongside Wil, he’s one of the ones who knows the most about illnesses or problems you might face, but he often takes a neutral stance as he can’t know whether or not his information is true or false, as information is warped over years of oral history.

The Actor’s actually a bit begrudgingly respectful of you. Make no mistake, he sees you as an asset, but he’s also fully aware of your strength, and that if you set your mind to burning him out of existence, he would have a challenge on his hands. He also flirts with you a lot. He’s trying to manipulate you, or at least get your walls down. (He didn’t expect to actually fall for you, though, curses!)

Dark’s aware of this, and as furious about it as he is (he may not know you well, but the thought of the Actor taking yet another victim infuriates him), he respects your strength and he knows that you’re strong and smart enough to figure it out. Doesn’t mean he’s any less pissed though.

Bim is also interested. Honestly, though? His first thought when he met you was whether or not he could use your wings to cook body parts. Kinda like roasting a sausage over a fire? That. Though he also immediately respects your abilities. I mean, if you have wings that are always on FIRE, then who knows what else you can do?

Doc is also curious. Mostly of HOW THE HELL ARE YOU NOT DEAD?! HOW ARE YOUR WINGS NOT BURNT DOWN TO THE BONE?!! Doc may have started as an actor, but he takes his (rather recent) credentials as a doctor very seriously. He knows a lot. SO HE KNOWS THAT THIS SHOULDN’T BE POSSIBLE. This poor guy is nearly in tears after a week long of sleepless nights trying to figure out how your wings (and you) are still intact.

The Jims are immediately ALL OVER YOU. They are just- it’s like watching a pair of hyperactive golden retriever puppies chasing each other across a backyard. It’s endearing, but also makes all those watching feel old and wish they had that kind of energy still.

Engineer is immediately walking up to you, nervous as all hell, but he masks it well, asking you if he could ask some questions. Yes, he wants to use you in experiments. The moment he saw you, his mind zeroed in on the whole ‘magical unknown energy source that causes their wings to burn’ and he immediately started making plans in his head to test this out. He WILL find a way to make an energy source out of whatever it is that fuels your fire, well, unless it’s your life force or something equally as important.

Magnum keeps you away from his ship at ALL TIMES. It’s nothing against you, he just knows from firsthand experience how fire (especially magical fire) can quickly consume a vessel. He tries to hang out with you though, bless his heart. He’s just nervous. He’s very superstitious, and though he’s never heard or seen anything to suggest that those like you could be bad, his prior experiences with fire still cause him to be anxious and on the lookout. He tells you stories, though!

Anti is immediately jumping back from you. ‘Jeepers’ style. Like, metaphorically hissing cat. Like, it’s very reminiscent of how a cat jumps ridiculously when startled. He’s very wary of you. He does NOT like you at first. After all, he can’t affect fire. He can’t COMBAT fire. So yeah. But he slowly starts to warm up to you. Slowly.

Marvin is really excited. Of course he is, he is our resident magician. I’m sure y’all can imagine all the fun things you and him would get up to. For instance, he hangs out with you whenever he gets the chance, and y’all talk and play around and experiment with magic. Well, more like you experiment, much to Marvin’s dismay.

Jackie likes you! In fact, if you ever get in a fight, Jackie will never forgive the others if they don’t tell him so that he can come and watch. He’s definitely going to be taking inspiration from you. He thinks you’re awesome and respects you.

Henrick, much like his brother-in-degrees, has a headache. Henrick stumbles his words around you and is just generally diminutive, though not timid. He tries very hard as well to figure out how your body works. He has such a one track mind that he doesn’t even think to ask you anything and ends up in this spiral of self-induced hell where eventually the others discover just how bad he’s gotten and either force him to take care of himself, then drag him over to you, or just straight up go ahead and drag him on over to you to make him ask you his questions. This poor man.

Once he does get his answers though, he’s actually rather embarrassed. He’ll start feeling really silly and bad about himself, kinda mentally beating himself up, and you’ll have to help him. Probably tell him about how you get the same way with certain things, and that it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just to try and come to you before going crazy next time.

He’s very respectful of you and your body, and he becomes the go-to doctor for when you get hurt. Funnily enough, while you can heal from physical wounds, wounds inflicted by auras or using powers are the blind spot of your healing capabilities. Meaning that you end up in his office a lot because the boys just can’t seem to keep out of trouble or go a week without some sort of accident happening.

Robbie absolutely captivated. He tries his best to walk closer to you, your warmth is alluring to him. He’s so inherently cold, that once he feels heat, at least, heat that he can actually truly feel (aka heat that can break through how cold he is) he tends to get very hot. Like, burning hot. But with you, it’s different. It may be because of your innate healing abilities, but Robbie’s so obsessed. Not actually obsessed of course, I just used that term to try and describe how he feels.

JJ is just- so curious. His eyes are filled with wonder, and he gestures and signs vigorously. If you don’t know sign though, he’ll be downput for a second or two before scrambling to get a notebook and pen so he can write. He’s absolutely charmed by you.

And oh geez. Inside the ‘headspace’ of Dark…

Damien’s really intrigued, to be honest, but he tries to water it down. Keep it on the down low. He’s caught himself watching your flames in a trance like state more times than he can count. He will eventually start to fall for you, because he’s just a soft man who can’t go all that long before starting to fall for someone he loves, but he won’t be aware of it. Celine, on the other hand?

She’s very aware of her brother’s growing feelings for you by that point. But as how Damien’s first impression was intrigue, hers is more calculating. She essentially is sizing up how much of an asset you’d be. Celine’s a woman who gets straight to business, after all. She ends up falling herself, at some point, but unlike Damien, she’s aware of what’s happening, and she tries to resist it. Love (of the romantic kind) has only ever brought her pain.

The Host is also intrigued by you. Though he can’t see you, his narrations make up for it and he’s actually somewhat subdued while around you. I can’t tell if he’s enraptured by you or intimidated. But he finds you fascinating nonetheless. However, he also tends to hide in the library, the one place he knows you can’t follow, because while you might be able to control your embers, doing so becomes more difficult the more flammable material there is.

As a treat for y’all! Some bonus Egos!

KOTS is impressed, but he tries to introduce you to one of his subjects and the poor thing immediately runs away after seeing the embers from your wings. You apologize, since you believe that you did something to scare the creature, but since he is capable of communication with them, he knows that it was just the embers from your fire. This subject in particular had a bad history with fire, having been caught in a forest fire started accidentally by humans. Luckily, King was able to save the squirrel, but the poor thing had been skittish around fires and sparks ever since.

Silver Shepherd doesn’t really care about the fire aspect of you, that is until one of your embers lands on his costume and ignites the fabric. It shakes him, but he’s fine in the end. He also respects you, like Jackie does. Though you two don’t meet often.

Eric is honestly so timid around you! Like, he was already sweating before, but now he’s sweating bucketloads! He’s really impressed by you, and he gains a crush on you quickly. Though he still flinches when any of your embers stray too near.

Yan. Is. So. EXCITED!! He thinks you’re SO cool and his old senpai is thrown to the wayside after like, a week of you staying with the Egos. Legit if you are nice to him, he’s so happy. If you indulge him, for instance, in this case, play dress up with him and let him do your makeup, he will SQUEAL. He’s just so happy and in love.

At first he’s very shocked when he finds out/realizes that the others like you too, but he eventually accepts it. After like, three weeks to a month of pondering. And yes, you can very obviously tell that something’s wrong with him, he’s not as cheerful, he’s distracted, you’ll find him observing the others out of the corner of his eye. He eventually accepts it.

After all, he can’t kill those who are immortal or who have reality bending abilities, and many of the others are actually nice to him. The closest thing he’s had to a family in a long time. He’s surprisingly not going to give that up just so he can keep you to himself.

A/N: I enjoyed this one a lot! I had a lot of blank moments when writing this, but it eventually turned out! And all within like, an hour, too! I hope you enjoy this one, 03! If I can call you that, I just enjoy shortening people’s usernames. If not, then just let me know and I’ll change it!

[waffledforbreakfast]

"Come Over He's Gone" - PRANK [SMAU]

Staring: Rin, Shidou, Saee niko, kaiser, ness, otoya, karasu, reo, isagi, charles

[ BLLK Scenario Masterlist ]

TW: swearing suggestive comments, suic1de jokes, heavy ooc, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, cringe, scuff, etc.

Rin

Shidou

Sae

Niko

Kaiser

Ness

Otoya

Karasu

Reo

Nagi

Ego

Isagi

Charles

A/N: Thoughts? maybe i should've put all the images together so you can scroll through them... lemme know if you'd like that!

I wanna try more smaus in the future, so im playing around with different applications, so lemme know what u think of this style! (insta)

I don't usally get much engagement(comments/asks/etc.) over here on tumblr, so im not expecting much, but lemme know if u have any strong opinions!

[favbum]

Katsuki Bakugo

summary: he gives into your pleads

 cw: nsfw (mdni)

tone: bf Katsuki

It wasn’t often Katsuki let you persuade him into things, especially when it came to his jurisdiction.

After all your cries and wailing to be given the opportunity of topping, he finally gave in and let you have a shot. Not at all because he wanted to see how you do, but simply because he didn’t want to hear you whine anymore.

The mood was set and a hard on waiting just for that plush ass to grind on was laid right out in front.

At first, things seemed normal. You entered, settled down, and began at a fair pace. But like any other situation, Katsuki’s patience was depleting, and fast.

The longer you went, the slower your stamina became and eventually he grew bored of you playing cowgirl. “I know you’re tired. Just let me do what I do best.” And without as much of a warning, he squeezed the peaches of your ass and hip thrust, lifting you in the process.

Slowly, he emptied his dick from inside your flesh walls until only the tip was present, making you shiver and brace yourself by gripping his shoulders. Then, he slammed back in, pushing up against your cervix.

Katsuki’s broken, suppressed moan oddly synchronized with your yelp. “Yeah, mm… This is just how I like it.”

With each thrust made your hands slip over, and over again. That’s when you had to resort to gripping his neck instead, gaining much more balance that way. He gagged a little, being choked by your thumbs.

Oddly enough, he liked the stimulation and only made him determined to go even faster. He huffed as he raised his hand to the back of your head and dipped it down so your ear was next to his lips. A grunt slipped out before he spoke.

“I’ll take charge from now on.” He panted, closing his eyes to finish. “Every. time.”

[seumyo]

If ghosts were real—well, Bakugou didn’t believe in ghosts, but if they did exist—they lived in the spaces people left behind.

And you happened to have left behind too many.

It wasn’t just the obvious things. Not the clothes still folded in your drawers, untouched. Not the way your books still sat on the shelves, the spines cracked from overuse, the pages filled with notes in the margins. Not even the stupid coffee mug you always used, the one you once swore made everything taste better, still sitting exactly where you left it on the kitchen counter (because it had his and your face printed on it).

No, the spaces you left behind were quieter. More insidious.

Like the empty seat across from him at the dining table, where you used to sit, eating straight from the pot that one night because, “Why dirty another dish?”

Like the sound of the bathroom door not opening in the morning when he’s actually using the toilet—dammit, you didn’t even have the care in the world to give your boyfriend some privacy—the absence of your muttered complaints about how the water took too long to heat up.

Like the other side of the bed, cold and untouched, where he still reached out in his sleep, half expecting to find you there. Anticipating to hold you closer to him.

Grief was a strange thing to Bakugou.

It wasn’t like pain. Pain was easy. A broken rib, a busted lip, the sharp sting of impact—those things, he knew how to handle. You grit your teeth, you clench your fists, you keep moving. That was what you did. That was the kind of man he was.

But grief wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t a punch he could take and shake off. It was a weight pressing down on his chest, invisible but suffocating. It was the silence of an empty apartment. It was the echo of your voice in his head, the way his brain still filled in the blanks in conversations you should have been part of.

It was standing in the grocery store, staring at the shelf, reaching for the brand of tea you liked before stopping halfway, fingers hovering in the air, before dropping his hand back to his side.

What was the point?

He hated how much space you had taken up in his life. Hated how even in your absence, you still lingered, threading yourself through his routine, his thoughts, his goddamn muscle memory.

But more than anything, he hated how much he wanted it to stay.

Because if ghosts were real, then maybe—just maybe—you weren’t completely gone.

He hadn’t cried. Not when he first got the news. Not when he stood at the funeral, jaw locked so tight it ached. Not when he walked through your apartment alone for the first time, every corner of it filled with your presence, your things, the remnants of the life you lived.

But tonight, he was exhausted.

Physically. Mentally. It comes down on him like something tangible, something inescapable—all at once.

And for the first time in a long time, he spoke into the silence.

“…This is fucking stupid.”

His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse.

Nothing answered.

Of course, nothing answered.

Still, Bakugou exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’d be so pissed at me right now.”

The quiet stretched.

Bakugou let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Tch. You always said I was too stubborn for my own good. But look at you. Still haunting me, huh?”

His eyes flickered to the couch, where you used to sit cross-legged, laptop balanced on your knees, pretending to listen to whatever bullshit he was ranting about while actually getting work done.

A strange, bittersweet feeling lodged itself in his chest.

“…You remember that time you swore up and down that ghosts were real?” he muttered, voice quieter now. “I told you you were full of shit.”

Silence.

His fingers curled into fists. “Kinda wish you were right.”

No answer. No sign. Just the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the faint buzz of the city outside the window.

But in the quiet, he thought—just for a second—he could hear it.

A breath. A whisper of movement. The sound of something shifting just out of sight.

He knew it was nothing. Just his mind playing tricks on him.

But still, Bakugou closed his eyes, exhaled, and let himself pretend.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[doodlenoodleboi]

Characters I can’t find fanfiction for or little of part 3

Literally the main character. Just a fine side character

It’s ego what can I say. Literally the main    character again

Just two well refined gentlemen that I need to ravish me.

(I just noticed I put ippo twice)

[sierrale8ne]

ego part two / wnba!paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary you and paige’s hookup a few nights ago has caused things between you both to be, well exactly the same. only this time, it seems like the blonde only gets on your nerves even more. warnings 4.0k wc, sexual content, oral, scissoring, hair pulling, more arguing and degrading, choking. from lena part twoski since you guys loved part one so much. 💋

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @ryywyd @tndaqlwifwy @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @ohbueckers @pboogerswbb @d3arapril @xxloveralways14 @lupinqs @cherryswisherz @vamptizm @bueckersbitch @tndaqlwifwy @paigesbabygirl

There is nothing more irritating than her eyes on you with the blazing heat. Sure, if it was just Paige staring at you, you would’ve learned to deal, but that with the sun on your face and the sweat on your skin was a recipe for disaster.

It’s been like this the last couple days, your basement endeavors with the blonde shamelessly replayed in the back of your mind. Her palms, soft with the occasional callous, running over your hips. Her tongue even made its way into your dreams.

You’ve been ignoring her, and while every part of you wanted to say it wasn’t on purpose, it was. She left you out to dry the other night, like you were just another hook up to her. Another quick fuck, which really shouldn’t have bothered you like it did— yet, here you were.

You stand in the kitchen, the heat forcing you to sport nothing but a white bikini top and the same shorts from the other night. You hold a popsicle in your left hand while your lips wrap around the red treat, scrolling mindlessly through TikTok.

Paige really doesn’t mean to stare, trust if she could do anything else she would. But similar to yourself, as soon as she got a chance to have you she can’t stop thinking about doing it again. She thinks of your popsicle as her fingers. She thinks of the bruise on your hip from her chucking a water balloon at you as a hickey or a slap. Paige wishes she could wrap your damp hair around her hand and pull it until you cried. It was hard to look anywhere else when everything in front of her reminded her of sex with you.

“Dude, quit fuckin’ staring at me.” Those six words are the most you’ve said to her since the other night.

“Don’t y’think you should put on more clothes?” Paige asks you. It’s subtle, but you know what she’s trying to get at. 

You take a deep breath, “it’s only me and you in this kitchen.” You murmur. Really, it’s only you and her in the house. Her teammates left the night prior, your cousins were all swimming down at the lake, and both of your parents were God knows where.

Which meant Paige had enough freedom to do as she wished. That obviously started with getting on your nerves. She scanned the room looking for something to annoy you with, you didn’t even look up from your phone.

Paige gets up, walking to the freezer and digging in the box of popsicles for one of her own. 

“You left a broken one in the box? Deadass?”

“Does it look like I care about what’s in the box, Paige?” You ask but it comes off as more of a statement. You bite the inside of your cheek, anything you can to stop the growing irritation in your chest.

She shut the freezer, looking at the treat in her hand. “I’m just sayin’! It’s inconsiderate, princess.”

You shut your phone off with a groan, the sound of it slapping against the granite countertop echoes through the cabin. “What do you want?” You turn to face her.

“Ion know what you mean.”

“What do you want? You’re on my dick so bad right now, do you just need attention or what?” You yell, crossing your arms over your chest. Paige can’t help but look down at where your tits suddenly push towards her face.

“See, I thought we fixed this li’l attitude you got. You’re still talking shit.” Paige points, her finger in your face and her chest nearly pressed against yours. She’s almost as close now as when she had you naked and pressed against the wall. 

“Get your fucking hand outta my face.” You grit, slapping her hand away.

“Or what?”

Your anger bubbled in your stomach, alongside the obvious arousal that comes with that vein that pops out of the side of her neck and the way she licks her lips. Your eyes trail down her jawline all the way to her collarbone, which is left exposed by the black tank top she wears. It’s only a matter of time before you know you’re about to do something stupid.

But Paige does it first.

Her hands reach for your face, cupping your cheeks and roughly pulling you to her. You don’t even have time to think before your lips are flush with Paige’s. Her right hand travels to your hair, tangling her fingers in it as she wished. 

Paige thinks about how you taste, cherry and a bit of lime from your popsicle. She sucks on your reddened bottom lip. Your mouth parts to welcome her tongue, which sloppily licks at your own before she pulls away.

It wasn’t anywhere near as long as you expected, but it still left you feeling dazed and possibly even more confused than before.

Paige didn’t get to get away with it like that. She made the move on you, she made you come, she left you alone in the basement like you were just a toy. She didn’t get to confuse you like that.

But a part of you wanted to keep going. Keep having her like this.

You reach for her chin, gripping it in your hand. Every part of you yearns for her again. Paige eyes scan over your body, and that’s when you realize it’s all a game for her. She gets off on seeing you upset, hearing you yell, all of it.

So instead of kissing her again as you so desperately wanted you push her away. Paige stumbles back, slightly shocked to see you stand up to her again after the other night. You scoff, sucking on your popsicle as you turn and head for the living room.

—

It’s later that night, and you’re grateful that the day has come to an end because you’re exhausted. After spending most of the day down by the lake indulging in silly yard games, you were ready to get a night alone.

You lay on the bed in your room— the room you got to have to yourself now that Ice and Caroline have made their own trips back home— body smelling like the mango of your body wash and the vanilla cashmere of your lotion. 

It’s peaceful, the bedside lamp gives a slight glow to the room and the cracked windows bring in a soft breeze. You’re happy, but that can only last so long until the door creaks open. 

And Paige stands there.

She wears an old Hopkins shirt that is definitely too tight for her arms, and a pair of black sweats. Her hair is slightly damp and curled up from her shower, skin clear and slightly flushed. Paige leans against the doorframe with a smug smirk as she runs her eyes up and down your body. 

“Can I help you?” You wonder, planting your palms on the bedspread. 

The blonde walks in with confidence just exuding from her body as she shuts the door behind her. She locks it slyly, before you even get the chance to notice it. “My room has been taken over by kids.” She murmurs, taking a seat towards the foot of your bed. 

You hum, finding slight amusement in Paige’s displeasure. “I don’t understand what that has to do with me.” Your eyes stay glued to the TV in front of you. 

“Oh my God, dude. You’ve been an ass all week, you really still haven’t moved from that shit?” She groans, looking over her shoulder at you irritatingly. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem.”

“Still? After I handled that?” You can tell how smug she truly is, the smirk that has yet to leave her face and the eye contact she keeps with you. “What did I do, princess?”

Paige was clueless sometimes, sure. But you didn’t think she was this fucking clueless. She seems to have forgotten about her little stunt. Her promise to talk to you and then avoid you after getting fingers deep in it. You look at her stunned, jaw dropped and eyes narrow. 

“So you didn’t leave me naked in the basement, or does your little athlete brain just not function properly?” You snap, sitting on your haunches as you lean towards the blonde. Her scent lingers on her clothes, a woodsy scent that makes your eyes water and legs clamp together.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Seriously? You’re mad that I didn’t give you some damn aftercare?”

“You’re a slut. I knew that much, but don’t try to treat me like I’m you.”

“—You’re that spoiled you think you deserve it?” 

It’s nearly 11p.m, and leaving you knew that this yelling would only make things harder for the both of you.

“Get out.”

“You’re so damn entit—”

“I said get the fuck out.” You repeat, standing up and heading to the door to show her out. 

But she grabs your wrist. Hard. Tugging you backwards between her legs.

“Aight, aight, I’m sorry. For real, just listen. Okay?” Paige’s tone shifts almost instantly. Enough to make you almost forget that you were heated at the fucking sight of her. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

You kiss your teeth. “No way you talk to me like that and think that is gonna make me not mad anymore.” 

“I heard what Carol said to you that night.” Paige admits. She sighs as you tug your hand away from her. It makes you think about your conversation, Caroline’s idea that you have feelings for Paige. “I think she was right.”

“No she wasn’t.” You cut her off immediately. Though, you’re not sure if it’s because you know just how you feel about Paige, or if you don’t want to admit it.

Paige’s confidence wavers just briefly. “It freaked me out. I never thought of you like that— especially with all your bitching— but, I dunno, all of a sudden you got me confused and shit.”

You take a moment to blink. You hate that a part of you even agrees with her but yeah, you’re confused too. It’s part of the reason why you felt some type of way about Paige leaving you when she was done. You’ve spent nearly your whole life with the same feeling of distaste towards her, and now all it took was a 30 minute hook up to have you feeling differently.

“We hate each other, P. I don’t think one thing is gonna change that.” You murmur, taking a step closer to the blonde. Her legs widen to welcome you instantly, hands pressed to the comforter. “It’s been years.”

“It already did. I been thinking about you naked every fuckin’ chance I get.”

Silence.

You freeze. One time was fine, but her saying all this to you now has you confused. Your knees buckle, and Paige is quick to catch you with a hand to your hip. 

“You’re tellin’ me you haven’t been thinking about it?” She asks. “You had me on my knees eating you out like I ain’t eat in months. You really don’t think about it.” 

“Paige…” The groan escapes your mouth like a plea. You can feel the arousal that seeps into your boxer shorts, and a part of you hopes that Paige is just as wet as you are. 

“C’mon, ma. Let me make it up to you for all that shit the other night.”

The thought runs through your head again: Paige, her knees, mouth all wet from you. More importantly you think about her apologizing for all the shit she’s put you through over the years. It would be rewarding.

But a part of you thinks of the opposite.

You, on your knees, face decorated with the athlete’s arousal. Making her fall apart, apologize to you in between her own moans. 

If anything, that would be a reward. Paige had been walking around this cabin these last few days thinking that she’d broken you, that she’d won. And it was your responsibility to remind her that she didn’t. 

To remind her why you always got your way.

“Nah.” You tut, reaching to brush her wet hair over her shoulder. 

It’s apparent that no is not a word Paige is used to hearing, because she freezes. “What?”

“I think it’s my turn.” You nod, trailing your hand to her cheek. Your thumb trails over her bottom lip, snapping it back in place before taking advantage of the slight height over her and pulling her up for a kiss. 

Paige’s tongue immediately traces over your lip, chasing after you in any way that she can. This one is different from the one the other night and even the one this morning. She’s greedy, like it’ll be the last time she’ll get to have you like this. And with a flight to Dallas coming up for her, it might’ve been.

Her hands wrap around your waist before getting a grip on your ass. You moan against her lips, reaching down for the hem of her shirt. “Too damn big for this shirt, P.” You grunt.

“Take it off me. Quit allat talking.” Paige hums against your lips. 

She pulls away, lifting her arms up and you do as she asked, slightly leaning further into her touch when you see her lack of a bra underneath. Her tits stare right back at you. Supple with nipples so stiff they make your mouth water. 

You lean back in, teasing your lips against her own, pulling back before she gets the chance to connect them. You press kisses against her jaw, trailing them down against her neck. Right where that vein pops out when she’s angry. 

Paige fights a groan, letting her sounds of approval come out like a harsh breath. “Hurry the fuck up, dude.” She starts gripping your hip harder, nails nearly breaking the skin. By the time you reach her collarbone a moan flies past her lips to your ears. You smile against the skin, proud that your plan was coming to fruition.

“Call me dude again and I’ll stop.” You murmur.

Your lips meet her nipple, and Paige seemingly likes the cool feeling because she arches into you immediately, letting out multiple gasps and accidental high-pitched sounds that she was failing to cover up. Your tongue swirls over it, over and over again on the hardened peaks. You suck eagerly, suddenly oozing with confidence and keeping eye contact with her.

“Shit, mama.” Paige moans, forgetting how many people stayed on this very floor. But you don’t care, not when you have her like this. “That fuckin’ mouth… makes me forget how much shit you talk.”

You pull back with a pop, pressing a hand to her chest to get her to fall back some more. It gives room for your tongue to trail down her abs, over each and every ridge until you meet the band of her pants. Paige’s eyes flutter shut.

“Fucking look at me. Don’t be such a pussy, Bueckers.” You tease, biting the hem of her sweats with your teeth. Her eyes blink open, revealing to you those blue eyes of hers. “Good girl.” You laugh, watching the way her eyes roll in response.

You grab the fabric of her sweatpants and pull them down clean in one motion, Paige watching you the whole time with hooded eyes and shallow breaths. You sink to your knees once those were off with your attention turned to her boxers, pleased to see the large grey wet stain forming in them.

Your tongue meets her core, causing a grunt to escape her and her hips to buck up towards your mouth. You can taste her arousal clean through the cotton, and it makes you leak between your own thighs.

“Beg me.”

“You’re insane.”

“Nah, it was cool when you were doin’ it right? Fucking beg or get out.” You smile, biting at her thighs as she did yours. 

You see your request process in Paige’s head, having to choose between her ego or her fucking need to come; and it looked like the latter was winning. 

“I need you.” She whines under her breath. You respond by tugging her boxers down to her thighs. “Need that mouth on me, princess. Just as much as you wanna eat me.”

You can’t even try to hold out anymore, her begging sends fire straight to your stomach. Her boxers reach the floor fast, and you spread her muscular thighs to reveal the nub between her folds like you were revealing a treasure.

“Again.”

“Bro—”

“—I don’t respond to bro, Paige—”

“You’re a bitch. Just eat my pussy, baby, c’mon.” She drags her hand to your hair, tugging it back and making you groan. You’ve picked up on just how much she seems to enjoy that. 

Your thumbs spread her apart and a glob of your spit meets her center. You decide to start with a finger, dragging it through the wetness that greets you before replacing it with your tongue. 

“Fuck.” Paige breathes, tipping her head back on her shoulders. You hum at the noise before slowly beginning to trail your tongue through any area of her cunt you can reach. Paige tastes like fucking candy, the taste making you sigh in awe. Which of course you hate, because it’s her. "Damn. You do that shit so good," the blonde tells you, craning her neck and maintaining eye contact with you as you take a suck at her clit.

In true relationship fashion, you don’t look away from her for a second. Instead you keep your eyes on her as you swirl your tongue around her clit. 

“Apologize.” You pant. Your spit falls from your tongue again, soaking the blonde in her own juices again. “Right now, tell me you’re sorry for being an ass.”

Instead, her hips buck into your face and her hand fists tighter into your hair. She makes you take her, as the dominance you so desperately tried to hold over her, was not something Paige was willing to give up easily.

“Shut up.” Paige moans, losing herself in the pleasure that came with your tongue. “Sh—ahh, m’fuckin’ God, princess. I’m close.”

“Swear I’ll stop.” You say in between the flicks of your tongue.

You eat her out like it’s a last meal, and a part of you can’t recall the last time you put your mouth to work like this. Like you’d die if you’d stop. Paige’s arousal drips down your tongue, past your lips, and down your chin. But you don’t care. How could you when she’s moaning like that.

Your tongue slows, looking up at her again, only this time she’s not looking back. Her eyes are rolled back into her head and her jaw is slack, hickeys from your work earlier adorning her skin.

“Sorry, aight? M’sorry, ma.” Her legs tremble around your head. “I was a—shit— an asshole, ma, I’m sorry. Fuckkk… I’m cumming, baby.”

Paige doesn’t stop her grinds, fucking your face and gripping your hair like a lifeline. Your tongue speeds up again, and it takes one final stroke to make her come all down your chin. Sticky and wet that you clean up eagerly. 

Her body flops back against the bed, as you eat her through it, watching her back arch into the air and her moans grow louder. You know to stop before you both get caught.

Her chest heaves up and down, thighs pressed together almost to alleviate the throbbing of her cunt. “I fucking hate you.”

You stand up, mouth dripping with arousal. “I thought we already established that you don’t.”

—

“God, shit! Shit, Paige, wait!” You cry, your hand tries to cover your mouth but the closest thing it does is muffle your moaning. 

You should’ve known better than to think that Paige would let you get the upper hand and just leave it at that. Because she couldn’t. Ever. You won the battle but the blonde would make sure she won the war.

You lay on your back, a leg spread out to your side and the other tossed over Paige’s shoulder. It leaves your cunt on display for her and she takes full advantage of it, rutting her own against you until you see stars. 

Her hips roll at a speed so calculated but so slow that you see stars. She presses down against you, fucking her clit onto yours. “Nah you got it.” Her hand clutches your throat, your eyes roll back. “Gotta show you how sluts get fucked, yeah? That’s what you are, ma?”

You refuse to give her that chance to break you, but the chance to come again makes you consider it. 

“F-fuck, fuck, P.” Your leg shakes on her shoulder, nearly falling off from how much pleasure shoots through your body. 

Of course she’s good at this, good at everything. Her head game was incredible, her fingers curled just right, and to make it all worse she was fucking you like your finish mattered more than her own. 

Paige Bueckers, the only person in the world who knew how to get on every single one of your nerves at once, just so happened to be insanely good at fucking you too.

“Fuckin’ answer me. Tell me whatchu are.”

You clutch her wrist, the other hand gripping the sheets for dear life. Suddenly losing to her doesn’t seem all that bad. “A slut.” You whimper.

“Huh? Can’t hear you, princess. One more time?” That princess word suddenly gets you wetter than ever, it bounces off the walls, ringing in your ears. You’re fucking embarrassed, and you don’t get embarrassed. Paige doesn’t make you embarrassed.

“A sl—slut, Paige! Keep, shitttt, keep fucking me like that. Please! I’ll—you can do whatever you want, just wanna cum! Let me.” You babble, some fuck drunk tangent that seems to make Paige satisfied.

“Yeah… y’wanna cum again? So desperate for it, huh, baby?” You are. Her fingers had already worked you to nothing and her mouth made you squirt like ten minutes ago, but still you want more. And Paige is just as desperate to give it to you.

“Wanna cum.” You whimper, clawing at her skin. 

“Gimmie that shit, all of it, baby. Be a good slut for me, yeah?” Paige grunts, breaths of her own orgasm falling from her mouth.

You look up at her with blown eyes. Fuck everything else, this suddenly makes all your arguments with her worth it. You chase after her mouth, lips puckered.

She meets them eagerly, kissing you soft and slow while her hips grind into you. “Cum for me, mama.” She breathes into your mouth, and you give her exactly what she wants. She comes as well, messy and everything you’ve been silently wishing for the last couple days. 

Your arousal stains the sheets, and both of your moans go from noticeable to breathless in a matter of minutes. Paige breaks the kiss, looking down at you as she helps you both ride it out. 

“Shit.”

“Oh my God.”

You both let out simultaneously. The blonde’s hand finds her way off of your throat, planting down on the bed. She hovers over you, planting soft kisses to your lips before rolling over.

Paige reaches for her shirt at the end of the bed, wiping the inside of your own thighs. You wince when she does the same with your cunt, but the simple gesture makes up for it. 

“I got something to confess.” She starts, kissing the top of your head before taking the spot on the bed next to you again. 

“Hmm?”

“My room is fucking empty, I jus’ needed to bug you.” Paige chuckles. “Find a way to tell you I like you. Or whatever.”

You smile, turning on your side to face her. She looks a mess, completely slutted out but you don’t even care. She looks like an angel, a part of you thinks it’s fucking unfair that she gets to look this good all time. 

“Not to boost your ego or anything but, yeah. I like you too, P.”

[aninipanin1]

I think that Anri begs adult manager! reader to force Ego to eat an actual meal that isn’t those instant noodles

EW, VEGETABLES...?

Notes: I actually love this so much, anon lol

"Good morning, Anri-san. How may I help you today?"

You greeted your fellow female manager, figure hunched over the washing machine, scrubbing the white linen sheets from the many rooms around the facility, especially the one that legit had an oyster sauce spill, leaving a spot darkened.

Anri gave her a large smile, one that is familiar, at first before her, she reached some sort of 'Eureka' moment, and her smile turned into one of disappointment she did not think of it earlier along with a hint of mischief in it.

"Actually, can you help me with something, Y/n?"

"Oh, of course! What do I do?"

The redhaired manager motioned for her to come closer, to which she followed. Cupping her hand around your ear, Anri whispered the 'task' she wanted you to do.

As she spoke, the wider your eyes became. How will you even pull this off?

"But, Anri-san..! You know how much he loves his noodles...and how he doesn't really like me."

You always thought that Ego Jinpachi, the head and director of the Blue Lock facility, never seemed to like you. He wasn't rude to you (you think because he talked to you the way he did to everyone else), but you can definitely see that he would go out of his way to avoid talking to you, approaching you or anything related to talking with you alone without Anri, unless it was something prefessional and work-related.

He also always scolds you. You know, it was just because of the betterment of the project. But why did he have to scold you for just being around Noel Noa or any of the master strikers? They were the ones handling the improvement of the boys. Of course, you need to be around them! Well, it was one of the many things you noticed, but you digressed. After all, you know you cannot please everyone, especially in a workplace environment.

So, you were a little shocked when Anri tilted her head at you, confused about your claim.

"Ego-san...doesn't like you?"

"Um, isn't it obvious, Anri-san? He doesn't really like talking to me at all, and when you aren't there with us, he will always avoid talking to me even if I try to make casual conversations! Also, he always scolds me for the stupidest reasons! Why does he get mad when I talk to Noa-san, Snuffy-san, Prince-san, or even Lavinho-san, I will never understand! It's my job to make sure that the boys are doing well and I can only make sure of that through the master strikers!"

You did not know when you started ranting, but you did. Anri, who listened to you with open ears, could not help but chuckle on the inside. She felt quite amused and also disappointed at Ego. But, she cannot say she was not surprised. Ego was one, if not the most emotionally constipated person she had ever met. It was not a surprise that he would try to avoid you.

But, why did he have to do all those things? It wasn't helping his cause at all!

'You better thank me for what I am doing, Ego-san.'

"Ego-san! Um..."

You stood there in the office where the said man was watching the many screens, watching over the progress of the players who were all training in their own ways. In your hands was a tray filled with sautéed vegetables, a bowl of rice, and some chicken in a bowl you cooked just for the man.

Even if you think he hates you, you can not just ignore someone who is literally putting their life in danger because they don't want to eat healthy things. You aren't messed up like that!

But, you did not know how to approach this, much less him. How will you even ask him to do this, much less with the strained relationship you two had? This was a really bad idea! Why did Anri have to approach you of all people for this-

"What is it?"

He turned his swivel chair to face you, his eyes a bit lidded to show that he was not that happy for being interrupted.

"I made some extra food, and uh...I thought you may want to have it."

'That's so stupid, Y/n!'

He raised an eyebrow at this, and it did not help that the look on his face showed that he did not approve of eating the pallate on the tray.

"Y/n-chan, you know I don't eat those things."

"I know...! I just didn't want to waste it. Anri-san said she already ate so..."

Ego did not say anything, turning his swivel chair to face the screens again. Just as you were about to give up and leave the room thinking that he would not accept the food at all, he raised his arm and pointed to an empty space on the desk.

"Put it there. Don't blame me if I don't eat it and it becomes rotten."

Blinking at his words, you just nodded your head, a bit dazed that he actually considered even being near the food. You did as he told before bowing and leaving to do your other chores and duties.

Needless to say, when Anri entered Ego's office, she was shocked to see the man munching on a bowl of rice with chicken and vegetables on top. His eyes were still focused on the screen, back hunched in a weird position, but he was indeed eating.

"Did Y/n pass by here..?"

"She did. Dropped this...abomination and her paperwork."

Ego answered, pointing to the food that he called 'abomination,' yet he was still eating the food, cheeks round with food. Anri nodded, yet it was obvious she did not believe the disgusted look in his face to which he only glared at her for.

"You're the one who said it. The facility should not waste food." He pointed his chopstick at her.

"Yeah, yeah. It's totally not because you favour her, definitely not." Anri shrugged, a cheeky smile as she headed out the room once she dropped the paperwork.

'I'm surrounded by simps, haahh...' She inwardly sighed.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Anri: You like her.

Ego: No, I don't.

Also Ego: *proceeds to hoard every single thing Y/n gave him, yes, even if it was the inkless pen she passed to him to throw in the trash.*

I'm sorry if this was too short, hahaha. I didn't really know how to go deeper into this. But I hope you loved this!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART TWO ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: he should have waited for you. but no, toshinori felt like he had something to prove. now, roles are reversed and he needs your help. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 5k tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (male receiving), piv, sex pollen trope but make it canon specific, dirty talk, praise kink, denied feelings, deeply needy fucking, size difference, toshinori being a good old fashioned lover-boy (again), enemies-to-coworkers-to-lovers hits hard a/n: oh wow a part two,,, i'm sick in the head ← previous | the tag

This ain't great.

This is, uh, bad actually.

Like, Toshinori has absolutely no idea what to do, bad. 

For Christ's sake, he's All Might. He should have known better. He should have known to wait for you — but no, he just had to calm his nerves by beginning your usual shared patrol an hour early. 

It's been one week, two days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes since he last saw you. Not that he's counting. It's not like he's suddenly acutely aware of the time he's spent apart from you, or anything. 

Japan is locked in a heatwave. 

(Or, maybe it's just the fever in his bones.)

Large, calloused palms dig into his eyes as he leans back against the rooftop's barrier and groans. Toshinori drops his head against the iron railing in defeat, sending a twang through the hot air. Sweat is running down his back beneath his suit, tracing the curve of his spine.

Oh, and he's hard.

Painfully hard.

Like he said, this ain't great.

The call went out that they spotted the same love quirk user from last week holding some sex workers at gunpoint. He should have waited. The two of you could have handled him easily. 

But, no. Toshi had to go and think he had something to prove. 

He groans again, pounding his knuckles to the gravel.

It's going to be all over the evening news. That clip of him, panicking, and absolutely decking the very-much-not-a-real-violent-threat-of-a-man in the face on reflex after being hit with his quirk. He couldn't help it. It was like... a knee-jerk. It's like suddenly you're being touched everywhere and nowhere. It's strange. Sort of violating. It... I-It was just all he could do, okay? 

And he apologized! Plenty! A-And Officer Tsukauchi said it was fine, that he had it handled, as a bunch of officers began to help the now-unconscious offender out of the storefront's debris.

...Toshinori's phone is ringing.

He has half the mind to ignore it.

But it's the guitar riff from 'Bad to the Bone'. 

It's you.

He barks out a huffed 'shit' before digging his phone from the pocket in his belt. Even your picture glowing alongside the phone call notification is enough to make his cock throb. 

It's not even racy. It's blurry. It's in the All Might Agency's lobby. You're smiling. It's such a rare sight. You're holding up your official hero license and a big thumbs up.

He took the picture a few years ago. It was a big deal, a huge win. Your hair was a little shorter, and your hands weren't as scarred from Pro-Hero work as they are now. And god, that smile. 

...Jesus, you're just happy and he's this horny? 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Toshinori picks up on the last ring.

"Where the hell are you?" comes your voice, cutting through the sound of wind — he can hear the thrum of your bike's engine in the background, "I've been looking all over for you, and I just got a call from Tsukauchi — are you alright?"

The sound of your voice is making his mouth dry.

"I'm fine."

He's not fine.

He's sitting here, aroused out of his mind and in pain, trying to battle through the mind-numbing, knuckle-breaking heat of desire. He can't even come close to the word 'fine'. He's a mess. All he can do is sit here and sweat because he knows no amount of trying to jerk off is going to solve this problem.

He's so not fine.

You can tell.

Tsukauchi gave few details — just that whatever the hell happened sent All Might hightailing it outta there. And, after getting a brief description of the prep, you had a pretty good idea why. 

Your fingers twitch against the throttle.

"Send me your location," you say sternly; the glint of your helmet's visor catches the passing lights of traffic as you talk into the built-in comms system, "I'm coming to get you."

"No," he grits out, tugging on a piece of his blonde fringe, "N-No. I'll be fine. I-I am fine. Just need some time—"

"Toshinori," you bark back as you check for an opening between cars; your whole body is hot and it's not just from the summer heat, "I'm not asking. Let me help." 

...Oh.

Help. Right.

It's ambiguous and sort of ominous but, if he squints, it's the first time either of you has even come close to talking about what happened last week. Y'know. When he kissed you in your entryway, the way he ate you out on your couch, or the way he absolutely fucked your brains out in your bed. All because you had been hit with the same quirk influence he's riding out now.

His location pings up on your visor's HUD. 

"Be there in five."

And you hang up.

Because — I mean, what else is there to say? You are going to do what you have to to help him. Just like he did for you. Then, maybe it will be even! And then, maybe, this feeling that has been eating your heart away for the last week will disappear. Right? And things will go back to normal!

...Right?

Ha! B-Because, yea, that feeling is definitely guilt, right? Like... You... uh. You feel bad. Because... he had to... help. And you haven't helped him. Right. Yes. 

Yep.

Not because you can't stop thinking about his hands on your face, cradling you tenderly as he drove himself deep into you. Not because you can't stop thinking about the way he looked up at you with his tongue flat on your clit. Not because you can't stop thinking about his voice, or his smile, or his laugh, or his—

The telltale roar of a motorcycle sets Toshinori Yagi's stomach ablaze. 

Immediately, the air gets thicker like the feeling before a summer thunderstorm. He knows you're here. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and before he can rub the feeling away, you're there. 

On the roof.

"You look..." you breathe out as your feet touch down with a crackle of lightning crescendoing around you, "Like shit." 

(Truly he looks divine. Rosey cheeks, his chest heaving. His eyes are half-lidded. There's a bead of sweat that runs down his jaw, down down down, down his neck, then disappears beneath the collar of his suit.)

Toshi sighs. It's a ragged sound. He pulls his knees up, trying his best to hide the apparent tenting across the front of his hero costume. He scrapes his rough palm down his face.

"Don't start—"

"Did I look this bad?" you ask, voice hiking an octave as you move towards him. You keep an even distance. Your face is morphed into a look of pity, but there's something in your voice that makes the knot in Toshinori's gut wind tighter, "He got you good, huh, Tosh'?"

He can't do nicknames right now.

"Ha, ha," he grits out, the trademarked All Might boisterousness dying in favor of the lackluster, dry humor he was born with, "You're real funny, zippy."

It's your favorite flavor of him. The man is out of the limelight. Though he may still be bigger than life biceps and thick steel-corded quads, the facade has fallen. 

"And you're a mess," you sigh as you squat down, rummaging in your pack for something. It's a water bottle. You offer it as you watch him. 

The condensation kisses his fingertips as he takes it and pops it open. 

He takes a long drink, caps it off, then presses the cold bottle to the back of his neck. It does little to dissipate the tension in his broad shoulders. The sensation arguably makes it worse. Another bead of sweat runs down his back.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

We're never gonna talk about this again echoes somewhere in the back of his mind. At this rate, they're gonna have to talk about this. Because once is just a fluke. Twice is a problem. A real problem. 

He places the bottle back on the ground after another long sip.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. Despite your desperate attempt to remain levelheaded, you know exactly how he's feeling at this moment. You gotta admit, his self-control dwarfs your own though. You could hardly keep your hands off him the second he walked in your door. 

You wrestle your bike helmet off, and Toshinori has to quell the wave of longing that rises in his chest. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and neck. He suddenly wishes he made you look this way — windswept and sweating. 

The jet-black helmet lands on the rooftop with a thwat. He can see his ragged, flushed reflection in the black visor. 

Your voice is soft. "Hey."

It brings his focus back to you. His mouth is dry. Big blue eyes swivel as they rake across your face — and he hates how his cock jumps at how softly you speak next.

"What do you need right now, Toshinori?"

His chest is rising and falling a little faster. The usual steadfast expression on his face has melted into something doe-eyed and boyish. It makes your heart clench. 

"Are you sure about this?" his voice cracks as he swallows roughly. It's a non-answer. It's a metaphorical boot-kicking-in-the-door, though. Toshinori rakes his hands through his hair, "I-I... I can wait it out—"

You exhale tightly; your rationale is clear. Totally unbiased and very much not rooted in an unabashed obsession with the way he touches you. 

"Tosh', you helped me. I won't sit around and let you suffer when the same hand is dealt your way."

He drops his head back again. Another twang echoes through the night air. 

"Plus," you offer with a slow, crooning smile, "I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

It takes a second.

Then, one blue eye cracks open. Long, dark blonde lashes flutter a bit — and then, he's smirking. 

Ha. 

Right.

"You sure about this?" he asks, his head still dropped back and shoulders slumped. 

"Sure as I'll ever be, big man."

That's the only permission he needs.

Toshinori Yagi is fast. He has to be. He's the Number One Hero in all of Japan. Top of the popularity ranks, fan-favorite, best stats in history. Being fast is part of the gig. 

He's fast to sit up and catch you in a kiss that feels like a bruise — tender and aching and miscalculated. It's teeth and tongue and then a deliciously low noise that rumbles up from his chest and sets your whole body on fire. 

His grip is rough — his fingers fist your hair as he drags you closer, his mouth presses firmly to yours as you scramble against the rough rooftop. It's... 

Needy.

You're crawling towards him.

"That's my line," he breathes out, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and pressing back in to steal your breath. His grip tightens in your hair. His voice is so low that it feels like someone lights a fire under your skin. It's rough and breathless and so not All Might.  

"It's a good line," you mutter back as your brain stutter-steps. You pull away to crawl closer and straddle his hips. Your knees pin his cape to the gravel. You're kissing him again, letting his feverish need set the pace, "Worked on me."

You can feel him through your hero suit. 

His suit's pants are thick, made of some patented material you can never remember the name of — but his arousal is more than apparent as you settle your weight down against him. The added pressure earns a throaty hum of approval. 

You always forget just how big he is in this form — his hands dwarf your hips as he drags his grip down, allowing himself a little bit of an edge when he unceremoniously bucks up against you. 

"Sorry," he slurs out, his boots scraping against the roof; it's utterly pathetic, "Sorry—"

"Stop apologizing," you breathe out as you follow his lead and continue the movement, grinding your hips down, "I asked what you needed—"

"Anything," Toshinori's words rush out with his blue eyes screwed closed tightly as he grips your hips and slots his mouth back against yours, "Anything you'll give me."

...How is he so romantic? Even in a moment like this? Even when he's blindly seeking friction through his pants, bucking his hips against your own, as he moans into your mouth. 

"Hands? Mouth?" you parrot his line of questioning from your previous encounter; it seems to knock some sense into him.

His breath catches. Blue eyes widen minutely. You feel him twitch beneath you.

"God, mouth, please—"

Who would have ever anticipated you'd be here? 

Who would have ever anticipated you'd be helping him work off his belt, work off his tactical pants? Who knew you'd be watching his taut stomach flex as you push his costume's top higher up his torso, who knew you'd be dragging his stupid All Might-themed boxers down his narrow hips to spring him free? 

Who thought you'd ever see him like this, so desperate and winded and needy? 

Not you, that's for sure. You never thought, in all those years you sat in prison, this would be your life shortly after: giving head — happily — to the man who put you there in the first place. 

And here you are, slipping him a tentative look as you wrap a gloved hand around his hardness and smirk. 

"Is this okay?" you murmur up at him, on your hands and knees. You're teasing him. He knows this. 

Toshinori laughs — an incredulous bark. It's all you need to hear as confirmation. 

The sound splinters into a choked moan when you bend down and take him into your mouth.

He sees stars.

This is going to be a problem.

All he can do is lean back and grip the guard rail over his head for dear life because ho-oly shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. His biceps go taut, his knuckles white, and he tries so hard to keep his hips still as you hum around him. His whole body shudders — his thighs tensing under your other hand as you balance above him. 

This is — son of a bitch. Your grip around the base of his cock tightens incrementally, and as you lap at the head of his cock, his thoughts die in a strangled burst of pleasure. 

Then, his hand lands on your cheek.

The touch is reverent. Holy. Tender and adoring.

"Jesus, Der'," he slurs out, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to keep his eyes on you; he can't stare too long. The sight is too much. Too pretty. Mouth full of him, "You're such a good girl." 

There it is. 

The little bit of praise he slipped you before. 

If the iron rail creeks beneath his tightening grip, neither of you pays it any mind. 

You're on your knees, gloved hand around his shaft, watching his face contort into something so wonderfully steeped in bliss. You've got more important things to mind rather than the structural integrity of some stupid rooftop rail. 

Like the way his stomach clenches — the way his abs tighten. Like the way he says your name or the way he chokes out a nervous laugh when you take him just a litttttle deeper. 

"Fucking shit," he hisses; you make a mental note to rib him for his language some other time. Hearing him curse like this is a hell of an indicator for your ego that you're doing a good job, "Der', if you keep that up—"

"What?" you rasp, spit connecting your mouth to his cock, "You'll cum?"

Something snaps. 

It's a flash of red and blue and silver and blonde, his cape tearing through the air. 

Suddenly, you're pinned to the rooftop — gravel scrapes as your boots kick and grapple for purchase. Your elbows scuff against the ground. The wind is swept out of your body and he's kissing you so roughly you swear you taste blood. One of his hands is locked around your jaw. You're effectively trapped. 

All you can do is let out a shaky, startled, yet painfully aroused laugh. 

His other hand isn't gentle — it's tearing at the bottom half of your suit, unceremoniously snapping the button of your tactical pants open and shoving his hand down the front of them. You can feel a slight shake in his fingers as they delve past your underwear and slip into your folds.

"I need you," he hisses; his eyes are dark, and you can see the edge of frustration building. You know the feeling. 

Another kiss.

Suddenly, there are two fingers in you. 

You whine against his mouth.

He doesn't waste any time. He can't. Not when all he can think about is splitting you open on his cock. You're right here and you're soft and beautiful and fuck, he can't even think straight when you clamp down on his middle and ring finger. 

"Be nice," you warn between pants and whines and whimpers. It's an empty threat.

"Or what?" he chirps back, working his fingers in and out; his voice hitches along the syllables, trying his best to sound unaffected by the little breathy sound you let out when he kisses your jaw, "You'll cum?"

It's your turn to laugh. Your hands grapple with his cape, trying to anchor yourself in any way possible. You fist it as his fingers continue the task at hand: opening you up enough to take him. His knees nudge your legs open a little bit farther. Toshinori's body feels like it's on fire. 

His heavy, hot cock drags up the inside of your thigh and he shudders. 

His face is pressed to your shoulder in a flash; it's good because he doesn't see the blissful smile working its way across your face as our own arousal builds. 

"You're soaking wet," he strangles out; his pride is overshadowed by the embarrassing need to have you. He feels like if he doesn't, this raging fever will just get worse and worse and worse. 

"Par for the course," your words hitch on a hot wave of arousal as his palm grinds down against your clit. You grip his wrist, trying to ignore the tell-tale shake in your legs. His hand is holding your face.

"At least I'm doin' something right," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek as he relinquishes his fingers from your heat and drags your mouth across your jaw, "Y'think... Think you can...?"

Take him? Yea.

You're a brave girl. 

Yea, that shouldn't be a problem. 

What is a problem is your riding gear and hero suit — but Toshinori can't be bothered. He's grappling with them for you, hauling you into his arms as he drags them down enough. They get caught on the tops of your boots, but he doesn't give a shit. Not when you're here, spread, and glistening before him. Not when you're in his lap, half-dressed, and trying to maneuver yourself down onto him with some semblance of grace. 

Everything is bigger when it comes to Mr. Double Detriot Smash.

Again, you're a brave girl. You're not going to shy away from the upgraded dicking down you got last week. Hell, that was great. Filled you up perfectly, and hit all the right spots... and now, you're realizing that the already tight fit is going tobe a littttle tighter. 

Your knees are like jello as your fingertips dig into his shoulders. Your hair is wild — and you're sweating. He's no better off; there's a crease of worry in his brow, even amidst the blinding heat of desire that's eating him up inside. 

He knows he's big. He's huge. He's... 

This is the first time he's ever had sex in this empowered form. 

Not like he advertises this as a service.

He'd be lying through his trademarked smile if he said he wasn't nervous — but there you go, giving him just another reason why he should buy a ring tomorrow and give you everything you've ever wanted because fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you're so tight and hot and wet and the sound you make the second you sink down on him—

"God, yes, Tosh'."

The gasp that wrings itself from his mouth is utterly pathetic. He doesn't care. He truly can't even think straight — all he can do is dig his fingertips into your hips and slam his mouth against yours to muffle the whines crawling up his throat. 

"Stay right there," you whisper; there's an edge to your voice of warning. He's trying to listen. He's trying to be a—

"Good boy."

You're holding his face and he can't seem to catch his breath. His boots scuff in the dirt, his brows knit, and he inhales sharply when you clamp down on him for good measure. Fuck. Shit. God, nonono. He needs to move. He needs — c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, please.

"Der'—"

You're kissing him again — and then you move. Slow at first, a little hiccup of your hips. Then, more assured, more confident. An easy up, then down. Then again, and again, and again. And again. 

"God, yes," he nearly cries; he smothers his desperate moan into a kiss that melts away time. Toshinori's hands are trying to find purchase, trying to help guide you up and down his cock as best he can. He doesn't want you to do all the work — he wants to help, "You're so fucking good, Der'."

"Y-Yea?" you breathe out, your entire body shuddering at the praise. Your hip tightens, and you don't even have the wherewithal to consider the cramp. You're not stopping for anything.

Not when this is, like, the hottest thing you've ever done. 

"You have no idea," he melts into another kiss that's all tongue and adoration, his bare thread composure snapping up like his hips in a testing manner, "Lemme fuck you, please, Der', please, please, I promise I'll be good—"

It certainly felt good.

All you can do is hold onto his shoulders. 

If you've learned one thing in the time you've known Toshinori Yagi, it's that he's a man of his word. He holds promises in the deepest homes of his heart, ensuring that nothing prevents him from honoring them. He's dedicated entirely to those around him and to seeing them prevail. Toshinori, even on his worst days, never makes a promise he can't keep. 

So, promising he'll be good?

I mean — it depends on the definition, doesn't it?

If 'good' is desperate, pathetic, fast drillings of his hips as you cling to him and gasp? If 'good' is filthy, muttered praise into your collarbone as he slams into you again, and again, and again?

If 'good' is scrambling in the gravel, being pressed flat as he takes you from behind?

Then, yea.

He's really good.

He's incredibly good — especially as he presses his chest to your back, and wraps his arm around your front. His fingers are greedily pushing through your folds as he keeps up his thoroughly rough pace. The thick, calloused pads of his ring and middle finger grace your clit and you nearly scream. 

The gravel is biting into your knees and palms but you don't care. Not when his mouth is on your neck and he keeps saying your name over and over and over and over again as he drives you into the ground. Not Derecho. Not some tender version of a nickname.

Your name. 

The hot fire of your arousal is building steadily — the wet, explicit sounds of him pushing his cock into you over and over again as he pins you are doing plenty, but it's the way he says your name that really seals your fate. 

Toshinori isn't here right now. Come back in two business days. He's lost in the bone-deep influence of this quirk, hellbent on filling you up and proving he's a good boy. He can give you everything. A ring, a house, a life — three more motorbikes and whatever you want on top of that. 

Fuck, he loves you.

Your fingers dig into the rooftop. 

"Oh, fuck, Toshi — yes," you cry; there's a crack in your voice, "Right there. K-Keep... Keep doing that—"

"C'mon, I wanna f-feel you cum," he babbles as you bury your face into his elbow bracing his weight, "Come on, Der', you're such a good girl, you're taking me so well, I know you c-can—"

Everything is Toshinori. His breath is hot against your neck as he pants, and his voice — so low and honeyed — is right in your ear as he moans.

Even now, he's ever so selfless.

"I need you to cum first," he grits as his fingers work your clit just a little faster, "C'mon, Der', you're doing so good — you deserve it, you deserve to cum so hard—"

Your knees jerk — and the world's best orgasm rushes up to meet you headfirst. A snap of lightning ignites your skin as you lose all control, and so suddenly Toshinori is right behind you, tumbling down the white-hot bliss of the best sex he's ever had in his life. 

He made you snap, he made you lose control, h-he made you cum—

His composure shatters. There's a guttural sound wrenched from deep in his chest and it's delicious. He finishes with a series of frantic thrusts that make you whine. His mouth is on your neck, your cheek, then your mouth. 

You crane yourself back, humming delightfully into the kiss that quells the rolling tide of desire into something softer. 

His whole body shudders as the after-quakes of your orgasm ripple along him. All Toshi can do is smother his sounds into another kiss. This one is slower. It's needy in a different way. 

When the kiss finally slows, it takes a second for him to peel his eyes open.

You look thoroughly wrecked. 

Your expression is that of a woman exhausted. 

Toshinori is suddenly aware of his own bulk, his own weight. Gently, he presses a hand to your cheek as he pushes himself up and off of you. His muscles burn — and pulling out of you makes his entire chest ache. 

The feeling wrings a gasp out of you. 

You exhale slowly, through pursed lips. Then, you brace yourself up on your elbows and hang your head. Toshinori flops gracelessly onto his back, his arms and legs spread with his half-hard cock sloped against his stomach. Your slick is coating him. His pants are half down around his ankles, and his usual up-right bangs have sagged. From heat or exhaustion, you're not sure. 

It sure as hell is cute. 

"You okay?" you ask after a second, taking him in as he begins to catch his breath. 

"Oh, yea, just peachy," he rumbles. The thousand-yard stare into the evening air is a hell of a thing on him. 

It makes you bark out a laugh.

Toshinori lolls his head to the side lazily, taking you in.

Your knees and elbows are bleeding. You're picking out the gravel stuck to your palms. You're in no better of a state — your pants are half on, wrenched down over your riding boots, and your uniform's top is pushed up over your breasts. His orgasm is leaking out of you, and the insides of your thighs are coated with your own arousal. Your hair is a mess. 

You're both messes.

You laugh again — and his own laugh starts shortly thereafter. Before you two know it, you're both locked in a laughing match that only ends when you try to reach to shove his shoulder. Your abs burn. Toshinori tries to muscle the grin off his face but fails.

Fuck. 

Fuck, that feeling hasn't gone away. 

It wasn't guilt.

Mayday, mayday, abort, abort, it wasn't guilt. He's smiling at you in the moonlight, looking so utterly wrecked and handsome and gentle—

His hand moves, a single crux finger gracing the curve of your arm soothingly. It's slow. Tentative. Hesitant. Not too much, not too little. 

Toshinori's voice is rough with sheepishness.

"Are we, uh, are we never gonna talk about this, too?" he asks. 

The touch and the question make your heart kick into a stutter. 

You swallow roughly.

"I..." you drop your head, as you wet your lips; play it cool, "Is it something you... want to talk about?"

"...Do you?"

A non-answer.

Your lashes flutter as your stare widens. You open your mouth, about to say something, but suddenly both of your phones are blaring with a city-wide alert. 

It takes a second for it to register — and as suddenly as the moment came, it went. 

ALERT, ALERT, ALL PROS REPORT TO CITY HALL, MULTIPLE HOSTAGES, ARMED GUNMAN, ALL PROS REPORT TO CITY HALL, ALERT, ALERT!  

You're struggling to haul your pants up as All Might fumbles with his belt. You hop on one foot, cursing as he scrambles for his phone in the gravel.

"You gotta be kidding me," he grits quietly, thumbing through the notification as you struggle in the middle distance behind him, tripping into your pack as you try and button your pants. 

"Time to go?" you ask pathetically as you try to ignore the feel of after-sex between your legs. 

"I guess that conversation is going to have to wait until later," he says apologetically, bending to grab your helmet. He offers it as you shrug on your pack; there's a sudden cocky confidence seeping back into his posture, "So let's make this quick, shall we?"

You swallow down a rush of worship. 

"I guess so," you remark easily, again trying your best to seem cool. That's your whole persona after all. Little miss spiteful, cold, rough-around-the-edges...

Beautiful, perfect, lovely, Toshi muses as you shove your helmet on and jut your chin his way. You flick your eyes toward the edge of the building.

He's already got a running start. 

"After you, All Might."

"Race you there, Derecho." 

[dragonanon]

Shameless Satan x Reader headcanons because I am a whore- 😩

- As much as everyone would probably assume he’s into “meek wittle UwU princesses” he can dominate with ease, Satan in fact prefers a little spitfire who won’t hesitate to fight back

- You won’t just lay down and take his BS, and it’s part of what drew him to you to begin with. He was probably raging about some stupid shit in the courtroom, and you (probably a desk clerk or something there at the time) got sick of it and yelled back at him “Oh stfu you big red fucker!” And he was so taken aback that someone had the balls to yell back at him that he was left speechless and mildly aroused

- Calls you things like “little flame”, “spitfire”, “dove”, and his “treasure”

- Knows that the sheer size difference between you two flusters you to no end, and he’s a goddamn menace about it. Making short jokes, holding things out of reach, and randomly picking you up just so he can hear you squeak in surprise. Getting cursed out by you is worth it so long as he gets to see that precious look on your face

- Aside from Yogirt, you’re really the only one who can get Satan to calm down when he’s angry and you have a much easier time doing so than Yogirt does. All you have to do is scratch his chin and croon at him, and the big bastard just melts into your touch

- Purrs SO GODDAMN LOUD but insists that he doesn’t. The lying bastard, he sounds like a tractor engine on steroids. He gets SUPER pissy if anyone besides you comments on it

- SO fucking full of himself, mans REALLY thinks he’s above Lucifer and deserves to be regarded as such smh. Your love and affection only further strokes his overinflated ego, as does any compliments and praise you give him. Mf actually grows BIGGER in multiple ways lol the more his ego is stroked

- This man is a cowboy/rancher and I will take NO criticism because I’m right. He’s got THOUSANDS of cows, and lots of horses too

- When he’s not in the courtroom, he’s working on his ranch. Probably has hundreds, if not thousands, of Demons he employs as farm hands to help with all the work, but there are some things only he can do and TBH he likes the physical activity of the work and it’s a free show for you lol

- He gave you a little chicken coop so you can keep a little flock of chickens. You LOVE your chickens, and your personal fav is a tiny rooster you named “Marshmallow”, and he looks like a more demonic version of this lol

- Says he’s not jealous of Marshmallow, but he TOTALLY is. He gets all pouty and grumbly when you pick up the tiny rooster and coo over him, because dammit you should be cuddling and cooing over HIM! Not that stupid bird!

- Has a big, fancy, mansion on his ranch that he lives in with you. In true dragon fashion, he unironically sleeps on a mountain of gold and other treasures lol. How he doesn’t have back pain is a mystery, but you get to sleep on his tiddies so you have no complaints lol

- Runs SO fucking hot! You’ll never need to pay for heating again, let alone HAVE an actual heating system, because this mf puts out heat like an industrial incinerator. It’s FANTASTIC during the winter because he’s so warm you can just cozy up to him and be in bliss, but in the summer it’s fucking agony and you can’t escape it because he gets upsetti spaghetti if you don’t sleep and cuddle with him

- Would prefer you to NOT be in the courtroom with him. He says it’s because you distract him, but in reality it’s because he doesn’t want you to have to see him explode with rage and live up to his title as the embodiment of wrath. He actually tries REALLY hard to keep that part of himself away from you, because even though he’ll die before ever admitting it, a TINY part of him is terrified that he’ll end up hurting you during one of his outbursts

- If for some reason you HAVE to be there, he has a special little balcony set up for you that’s not only a safe distance away from any potential danger, but ALSO has a magic force field protecting it (that part is a secret tho because if you knew about it, you’d yell at him for thinking you’re weak enough to need protection lmfao)

- If anyone so much as blinks at you wrong, he beats the shit out of them. The ONLY reason he doesn’t kill them is because he knows you’ll yell at him like “Dammit Satan, again?! I can’t go anywhere with you!”

- Yogirt 100% uses his love for you to get him to chill. “I know you’re feeling some pretty big feelings right now, but think of (Y/N)~ She loves you and would be so sad to see you this angry~”

- It’s funny because he and Satan both know damn well that you wouldn’t be sad, rather you’d be yelling at him to knock that shit off lmao

- The entire courtroom once got to hear you sit him the fuck down because he got a little TOO spicy in the courtroom one day, and didn’t believe Yogirt he he not-so-subtly threatened to call you. Sure enough, he pulled out his phone and called you on speaker phone, and everyone got to spend 30 minutes listening to you rip this mf a new one while the mighty king of wrath sat there like a sad puppy and occasionally mumbling something like “I know…I’m sorry treasure, I’ll do better.” (No one is allowed to comment on it or else he’ll get VERY angry about it. Plenty of memes have been made about it tho much to his chagrin)

[icarus-lee]

so you really love me?

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･his endearing soft side, his innerchild °❀

charac. michael kaiser x gn! reader

author’s notes: i tried mirroring his backstory and to what i think he really is behind closed doors w sum1 he rlly loves. Please enjoy!

Michael Kaiser was better off a criminal.

He steals, that's his thing. Probably the only thing he's ever known to do.

He asked you once, "Is there still salvation in the future?" Of course Kaiser never hoped for anything in his past anymore.

Yet that question rings back to you as you see him on the big screen. 75 minutes into the match and you see him turn a desperate glance towards somewhere beyond the field. He was having an evident crisis, a mental struggle that was only known to him; and you. Perhaps it was his whole world crumbling right before your eyes and no one knew it was a crucial moment for him.

You could see the way he’d even plead his teammate Raichi for a pass. “Please” was never a word for your emperor. And that very same emperor that you were seeing right now, was stripping every bit of wealth that he’s desperately protected over the years. It takes you back to when he was only a nobody, not a somebody.

Power was important for Kaiser, truthfully that was his only way to feel human, to assure himself that he won’t go back there anymore. Yet Michael was only a kid, wearing a crown and robe just to earn what every child like him deserved, love. But now, earning love is not that simple right? For there were thorns that accompanied this talented striker. Coincidentally, you had a thing for treasure that surely bites.

“The name Michael means a gift from God. You’re a gift, Micha.” Slowly but reassuringly, you trace the delicate lines of his rose tattoo as he lays there with you, on the soft mattress of his king-sized bed

Michael hums, and shakes his head. He gains a grasp of your hand and plants it to his head, rubbing himself with your touch. You chuckle as he lets out a low groan.

“Watch that beautiful mouth; I might just kiss it.” You heard his harmless threat as he buried his head onto his pillow, your lap. His body wasn’t used to the soft envelopment of a mattress. To him, it was only cardboard before.

You chuckle, “You always do, everyday. Who knew Michael Kaiser wasn’t a grumpy cat to his Liebling? Instead he becomes a melting mess who’s touchy when no one’s looking?”

He abruptly gets up from his comfy little spot (aka your body) and looks at you with a gaze that tells you to keep talking. His gaze tells you that he longs for moments like these to last, for these seconds not to easily pass. Because somewhere in those sapphire eyes, remains an inner child whose soul has been wounded by the burdens of his past.

“You’re gonna have coffee with me right, Liebling? In the morning? ” He simply asked, as he reached for the back of his head, his hair messy as it always was.

It baffled you for a second as to why he would ask that. Yet it suddenly hit you; he didn’t want you to leave by the morning, let alone wake up without you in his arms with not even a simple goodbye. That’s just how he is, considering that right now, he wasn’t Kaiser. He was Michael.

“Who said I wouldn’t? I’ll always will.”

He scoffs, “You’re hard to read Y/N, as always.”

You show him a helpless pout that he can't help but smirk about as you lean closer to his face. “And what does that mean, Micha? ”

“When I expect stones, you give me feathers. When I expect thorns from roses, you give me flowers in a pot.” His expression was far from the familiar smirk he'd show on the field. He held an odd aura of sincerity behind his stern words.

“How could you love me? ”His question became a mumble under his breath but was audible enough for you to hear.

You simply smiled and stood on your knees to fully embrace his figure in bed. His bare back, making contact with your warm hands that could never land a sting on his skin. Your scent encapsulates him, suffocating the last bit of bitterness and wilt in his body. And most of all, he felt your words like an unspoken prayer to the same God he questioned for his existence.

“How? You shouldn’t ask how. You should ask, when have I ever not loved you?”

That’s when Michael learned:

That love has existed, even before the word ever came out of his mouth.

[marikosfragrance]

"Who would be good with kids?"

Characters : Various characters

REQUESTED

Content : which of the characters would be great with kids, or bad, and why?

Note : PLEASE UNDERSTAND I HAVE NEVER SEEN THEM INTERACT WITH KIDS, EXCEPT FOR SOME LIKE ISAGI. SO SOME CHARACTERS MIGHT FEEL OFF FOR YOU. Characters dont belong to me. Made this while keeping the canonical edge, enjoy reading, mwah.

Would be good with kids, kids would love him, and he would love them. He is open and is polite. I can see him even playing with them or knowing exactly what to do in certain situations involving kids. I can also imagine kids asking him for autographs, and he would gladly do it, smiling at them too. No complains on their parts when it comes to kids.

Isagi, Reo, Nanase, Kurona, Karasu, Oliver, Bachira, Hiori, Kunigami, Chigiri, Ness, Chris (maybe)

Kids would love him, but he wouldn't care either way. He is the type that kids look up to, but he doesn't necessarily seek their attention, for him kids aren't annoying but aren't exactly desirable either. They are just there.

Sendou (maybe), Sae, Michael, Noel Noa, Loki

He doesn't dislike kids, but kids are scared of him. It could be from the way he approaches them, or how he presents himself. Like from the first impression— his expression scares them away. Or perhaps its the way he handles himself on the field? He knows how to take care of kids and doesnt exactly hates them, but unless the kids are willing to give him a chance, they might be too frightened to come close.

Barou, Aiki (maybe), Rin (maybe), Dada

He doesn't like kids. Or maybe he does, but I doubt he would like it If they were all over him, especially if the kid is all annoying and stuff. He wouldn't outright hate on the kid, but he wouldn't want them near him. He might even scare them off. And kids are either afraid of him, or uncomfortable around him, so either way, it is a mutual thing.

Luna, Adam, Ego, Nagi (maybe), Otoya (maybe),