#he is NOT watching that shit go down no way in HELL

[pyraomen]

“JOLENE, I’M A WOMAN TOO” , stack x reader.

summary — ❝ i can easily understand why you're attracted to my man. but you don't want this smoke, so shoot your shot with someone else. ❞

warnings : strong language, violence (threatening), gun mentioned, alcohol use, sexual references, verbal insults, mary slander.

[ꪆৎ] was having herself a good time down at the juke joint. her belly was full from that fresh batch of catfish annie had just pulled from the fryer; crisp, golden, seasoned just right. she’d even snuck a few sips of liquor from her man’s cup when he wasn’t looking, the warmth of it humming in her chest. the place was alive tonight, packed wall to wall.

sammie’s voice boomed over the crowd, deep and rich, weaving through the smoke and laughter like a sermon of rhythm and blues. the air was thick with sweat, perfume, and excitement. it was exhilarating, felt like home. folks were swaying, stomping, clapping, hips rolling to the rhythm of his song.

everything felt just right, until she heard her name.

mary.

“is that little mary?” she heard cornbread yell out and immediately came to an halt. she wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop, but when it came to mary, she was all ears. that girl was like a fly that wouldn’t quit buzzing around your kitchen — still hung up on her stack. there’d been more than a few run-ins between them, and each time [ꪆৎ] had tried to keep her cool. but tonight, she was fed up.

elias somehow sensing some shit was finna go down, appeared behind her. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his voice low, eyes already scanning the room like he knew who the problem was. she turned slowly, locking eyes with him. “stack,” she said, voice flat and sharp, giving him a look of get her before i do. he let out a knowing chuckle and pulled the toothpick from his mouth, giving her backside a rough tap as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “i know, i know. i got it.”

stack wasn’t about to let it get ugly, not in front of all these folks, and especially not when he knew his woman didn’t play that. if mary didn’t leave on her own, one or both of them was looking to catch a bullet before the night was over.

[ꪆৎ] watched as stack made his way toward the entrance. she scoffed under her breath, shaking her head, then turned on her heel and made her way to the bar. the mississippi humidity clung to her skin, mixing with the slow simmer of anger already creeping up her spine. sliding onto a barstool, she fanned herself with her hand, though it did little to help.

her jaw clenched tight and eyebrows scrunched together. just the thought of mary trying her luck again made her skin itch. “need a drink?” came annie’s voice, smooth and matter-of-fact. [ꪆৎ] looked up to find the older woman standing behind the counter, a bottle of good whiskey in hand, the kind they didn’t pour for just anyone. she didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, her fingers drumming anxiously on the bar top in a rhythm she barely noticed.

annie poured a glass, slid it across the counter, and gave her a look ; one full of shared understanding. wasn’t the first time a triflin heffa tried to sniff around one of the smoke-stack twins. and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

she took a slow sip of the whiskey, letting the burn calm the storm in her chest. or trying to, at least. the joint around her pulsed with laughter and music, but her focus was drawn to the front door, past the crowd ; where stack stood talking to her. their voices were low, but every now and then a word or two slipped through the rhythm of the joint.

“i was just... stoppin by,” mary said, her voice syrupy-sweet, the kind of tone women like her used when they were up to no good. [ꪆৎ] paused mid-sip, her ear twitching in their direction.

“you know i always had a soft spot for you, stack,” mary continued, a little louder this time, like she wanted [ꪆৎ] to hear. [ꪆৎ] set her glass down a little harder than intended. annie didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow, ready to step in if needed.

before she could make the decision to waltz over there. she heard stack let out a long sigh, voice laced with irritation. “mary, this ain’t the time or the place. i suggest kindly you get the fuck up outta here before i get one of these field bitches to do it for me. or better yet, get [ꪆৎ] to handle yo ass, you know she been itching for the right moment too.”

that should’ve been enough. but of course, it wasn’t.

mary let out a loud scuff, obviously feeling like somebody. “i’ll beat up every bitch in here and you know it.”

that did it.

[ꪆৎ] stood up slow, eyes never leaving the shadowy outline of the two at the door. her pulse thumped in her ears, the whiskey mixing with heat and rage. she didn’t shout, nor stormed ; she moved graciously through the crowd like a woman on a mission. 

annie just shook her head, muttering under her breath, “lord help that girl … she don’t know who she messing with.”

the crowd parted for [ꪆৎ] like it always did. some out of respect, others out of fear, but most just knew better than to stand in her way when she moved like that. her dress swayed with each step, graceful but sharp, the small pistol tucked in the folds at her thigh brushing against her skin like a silent reminder. the music didn’t stop, but the energy in the room shifted, low murmurs stirred, a few folks, cornbread included backed away from the door, sensing the storm brewin.

stack turned just in time to see her coming, jaw tightening. he didn’t move, he knew better than to interfere when she had that look in her eye. he wasn’t scared of his woman, but he was scared of his woman. this was between her and mary now.

mary, still too full of herself to read the room, crossed her arms and tilted her head. “so now you sending your little guard dog to the door?” she spat, chin raised.

[ꪆৎ] didn’t respond right away. she stepped up to mary, slow, eyes scanning her head to toe like she was sizing up trash on the side of the road. then she spoke, voice calm, but low and mean.

“you come to my man’s place of business, looking the way you look and talking nonsense you can’t back up. thought i wasn’t gon show, huh?” her louisiana accent thickening with each word she spoke. mary’s smirk faltered, just a little. “i ain’t scared of you. you hiding behind a man that i already had.”

[ꪆৎ] let out a soft laugh, humorless, deep, dangerous. her head tilted slightly, curls brushing her shoulder as she took one deliberate step closer, causing mary to shift her weight back instinctively. the scent of her perfume sharp and sweet in the thick air between them.

“that so?” she said, voice low and rich, louisiana accent wrapping around each word like molasses. “you had him, huh? must’ve been real forgettable, since he don’t even look your way no more.”

mary’s eyes narrowed. “he still remember.”

[ꪆৎ] nodded slowly, pressing her lips together before replying. “maybe. a man remember trash when it stank long enough. don’t mean he want it back in his house.”

a few folks nearby let out a low “mmm,” like they just bit into something hot and juicy. even stack looked down at his feet, fighting back a grin he knew better than to let show.

mary’s smirk had fully dropped now, her jaw tightening. but [ꪆৎ] wasn’t done. “you got two good legs, mary. use em. cause if i take one more step, neither i nor elias gon be responsible for what happens next.”

mary stood frozen, the fight in her chest but no wind to back it up. she opened her mouth like she wanted to throw another blow, but the silence around them told her loud and clear. she needed to take her ass on.

she huffed sharply, her chest rising with wounded pride, then spun on her heel with a dramatic flick of her hair. her heels struck the ground with angry rhythm, each step echoing her bruised ego as she stormed away from the joint, shoulders stiff with false dignity.

[ꪆৎ] slammed the door shut, then exhaled slowly, adjusting her dress. “yall can go back to having fun”, she said with a wave of her hand. that was all people needed to hear to get back in they groove.

she glanced up at stack, “lets go home. i’m tired of playing with these little ass girls.” he didn't say a word, just took her hand like he always did, following the fire that never steered him wrong.

[sixeyesonathiel]

Hi!! I didn’t even realize ur requests were open until I checked your pinned omg. Can u write something dark with loser reader and bully fratboy Gojo pls?? They used to be rly close like lowkey childhood besties and everyone thought they were gonna end up together, BUT he got mixed in with the wrong crowd (aka the frat) and now he’s just so MEAN. He bullies her for no reason now but like... in that messed up way where he’s still obsessed w her?? Like he knows her too well, knows what makes her tick and he uses that against her just to watch her squirm. I want toxic codependent vibes, power imbalance, him being POSSESSIVE as hell and her still clinging to what they used to be. And maybe he’s extra cruel bc he HATES that she still gets to him. Also, this is embarrassing but please write the reader as flat chested. Thank uuu

a/n: ahhh this was actually the second request i ever got on here and it made me spiral (in the best way). i literally paused all my wips to double down on this one because the brainrot was insane. i hope you enjoy what i cooked up hihi <3

cw: dark content, somnophilia, cockwarming, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, oral sex, fingering, spanking, nipple play, hair-pulling, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, filming, degradation, humiliation, sadism, drug use, alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessiveness, gaslighting, victim blaming, slut shaming, coercion, stalking, obsessive behavior, 18+ only, MDNI.

fratboy satoru who was once your north star, the kid who’d slip you extra cookies during late-night study sessions, his goofy grin lighting up your world. you’d giggle at his dumb jokes under a blanket fort, his hand brushing yours, promising forever with the kind of sincerity only a kid could muster. but that satoru’s dead, buried under the weight of his family’s collapse, his own arrogance, and the frat’s toxic grip. now, he’s a king in a jungle of red solo cups and bass-heavy trap music, his blue eyes cutting through the haze of a packed house party.

fratboy satoru who’s buzzing from the xans suguru slipped him, his veins electric after a football game win, dragging you to the frat house basement where the air’s thick with weed and desperation. the couch is stained, sagging under your weight as he shoves your skirt up, pinning you down with a hand on your chest. “don’t fucking scream,” he hisses, eyes glinting with sadistic glee as his fingers plunge into you, slick and merciless, curling deep while his other hand smothers your whimpers. “bet you’re soaking ‘cause you love this shit.” your body betrays you, clenching around him as tears stream down your face, and he’s eating it up, his grin wicked as you shatter, sobbing into his palm. “look at this pretty cunt, dripping for me like it knows who owns it,” he growls, his voice low and filthy, fingers pumping harder just to hear you choke on your own moans. he doesn’t stop there—keeps going until you’re shaking, cumming again, your thighs slick and trembling. “fuck, you’re a mess, my favorite fucking mess,” he laughs, licking his fingers clean, eyes never leaving your tear-streaked face. he doesn’t soften, just pulls you onto his lap, muttering, “stay still, or i’ll fuck you right here.”

fratboy satoru who thrives on your fragility, your too-soft heart that cracks under his cruelty. you’re in the library, glasses slipping, surrounded by textbooks, trying to claw your way through a chem assignment. he finds you, of course—slips into the chair behind you, yanking your ponytail back just hard enough to make you gasp. “thought you could hide from me?” he whispers, voice dripping with mockery, but he’s already pulling you into a cramped study room, locking the door. he bends you over the table, skirt flipped up, your notes scattering like confetti. “fuck, you’re so small, so breakable,” he pants, belt clinking as he frees himself, slamming into you so deep your nails dig into the wood. “cry for me, baby, you’re cutest when you’re a mess.” you do, snotty and pathetic, your glasses fogging as he fucks you senseless, his cock stretching you until you’re dizzy. “look at you, taking this dick like it’s your fucking job,” he snarls, slapping your ass, loving how you flinch. your tears only make him harder, and when you beg him to slow down, he just laughs, kissing your wet cheeks. “nah, you’re too fucking cute like this, all pathetic and ruined.”

fratboy satoru who’s got an unholy obsession with your tits, small as they are, worshiping them like they’re his personal altar. he’s got you sprawled across his dorm bed, the sheets reeking of weed and cheap cologne, straddling your waist as he sucks and bites, leaving your chest a map of purple bruises and red teeth marks. “fuck, these are perfect,” he groans, teeth grazing your nipple until you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets. he pins your wrists above your head, his knee between your thighs, grinding against you just to feel you squirm. “keep still, or i’ll tie you up and do this all fucking night,” he warns, eyes glinting with that mean streak, and you know he means it. his tongue’s relentless, swirling over sensitive skin, and when you arch into him, he growls, “goddamn, you’re begging for it, aren’t you? little tits driving me fucking insane.” he leaves you raw, marked, and when he’s done, he kisses you hard, all teeth and possession, muttering, “you’re my fucking angel, don’t forget it.” but there’s no softness, just his hand squeezing your bruised chest one last time.

fratboy satoru who can’t get enough of your pussy, addicted to the way you taste like it’s his last hit. “been thinking about this all night,” he says, spreading your thighs wide, his fingers digging into your ass as he buries his face between your legs. his tongue’s obscene, lapping at your clit like he’s trying to drown in you, sucking hard until your knees buckle. “taste so fucking sweet, could live down here,” he mumbles, voice muffled as he pushes two fingers inside, curling them just to make you scream. you grip the counter, biting your lip to stay quiet, but he doesn’t give a fuck—he wants the whole house to hear. “let it out, baby, let ‘em know who’s eating this pussy,” he taunts, licking you through your first orgasm, then another, until you’re a shaking, dripping mess. he stands, chin glistening, smirking. “that’s my girl.”

fratboy satoru who’s a monster when he’s jealous, his blood boiling when he spots you laughing with some nerd at a campus café. he doesn’t confront you there—just waits, simmering, until he’s got you alone in his car, parked in a shadowy alley. “think you can flirt with other guys?” he snarls, ripping your blouse open, buttons pinging off the dashboard. he reclines the seat, forcing your legs over his shoulders, fucking you so hard the car creaks. “this pussy’s mine, you fucking get that?” he spits, slapping your thigh, his cock relentless as you cry out, overwhelmed. “bet he can’t fuck you stupid like i do,” he growls, his pace brutal, overstimulating you until you’re sobbing, begging for him to ease up. but he doesn’t—he leans down, kissing your tears, smirking, “so fucking pretty when you’re pathetic.” when it’s over, he doesn’t soften, just tosses you his jacket, muttering, “cover up, you’re a fucking mess.”

fratboy satoru who films every depraved second, his phone propped on a nightstand as he’s got you bent over his desk, your skirt bunched at your waist. “smile for the camera, baby,” he taunts, spanking you hard enough to leave welts, the sound echoing in the room. the video’s grainy but vivid—your choked whimpers, the wet slap of skin, your thighs trembling as he fucks you raw. “gonna keep this forever,” he says, voice low and possessive, “jerk off to it when you’re not here.” he doesn’t share the vids, thank fuck—they’re his alone, a private shrine to your broken devotion. “look at this tight little cunt, swallowing me whole,” he groans, zooming in as you clench around him, your tears glistening in the low light. “fuck, you were made for this dick.” he cums with a grunt, watching the footage later, stroking himself to your snotty, ruined face, muttering, “you’re mine, always.”

fratboy satoru who’s unhinged when he’s high, snorting lines with sukuna in the frat house attic before stumbling to your dorm at 3 a.m. you’re asleep, curled up in a t-shirt, but he doesn’t care—he crawls into your bed, yanking your panties off, giggling like a fucking lunatic. “shh, just let me have you,” he slurs, burying his face in your pussy, his tongue sloppy but desperate, moaning like he’s getting off more than you. “fuck, i’d die for this pussy,” he mumbles, licking you until you stir, gasping as your body betrays you, cumming under his relentless mouth. he’s still high when he fucks you, slow and messy, his cock slipping in with a wet squelch. “you’re my fucking lifeline, i’d die without you,” he whispers, eyes bloodshot, but there’s no softness—just his hand gripping your throat, keeping you in place as he takes what he needs.

fratboy satoru who’s got a fetish for your panties, always checking what you’re wearing like it’s his birthright. he corners you in an empty lecture hall after class, flipping your skirt up without preamble. “let’s see what you’re wearing,” he says, fingers brushing the fabric, smirking when he sees the plain cotton. “boring,” he scoffs, pocketing them, leaving you bare. “walk back to your dorm like this,” he orders, his voice low and mean. “bet you’re wet thinking about it.” he’s right—your thighs are slick, your face burning with shame as you obey, and he kneels, licking a slow stripe up your inner thigh, teasing your clit just enough to make you whine. “so fucking needy,” he laughs, standing to kiss you, his lips tasting of you and spearmint gum. “you’re mine, don’t forget,” he adds, twirling your stolen panties around his finger like a prize.

fratboy satoru who lives for fingering you at a frat party, right in the middle of the chaos, perched on his lap like his personal trophy. the room’s a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, but he’s got two fingers buried in you under your skirt, pumping slow and deliberate while he laughs with suguru about some dumb bet. “keep quiet, or they’ll all know what a slut you are,” he whispers, biting your earlobe, his thumb circling your clit until you cum, shaking in his lap, tears welling up from the embarrassment. but he doesn’t stop—keeps going, chasing another orgasm, then another, because you’re just too fucking cute, all teary-eyed and red-faced, trying to hide your face in his neck. “fuck, look at you, falling apart for me in front of everyone,” he taunts, his voice dripping with filth. “bet you want ‘em all to see how this pussy creams for me.” you’re sobbing, mortified, but he just licks your tears, thrusting harder, making sure every drunk asshole in the room knows you’re his. when you cum again, he doesn’t even flinch—just smirks, licking his fingers clean, muttering, “good fucking girl.”

fratboy satoru who’s got you bouncing on his dick like a ragdoll, his phone pressed to his ear while he’s laughing with suguru about some frat drama. you’re in his dorm, straddling him on his gaming chair, your skirt fanned out, tits jiggling with every brutal thrust as he grips your hips, slamming you down harder just to feel you choke on a sob. “yeah, sugu, tell me more,” he says casually, but his eyes are locked on your tear-streaked face, your mouth open in a silent scream. “fuck, this pussy’s gripping me like it’s scared i’ll leave,” he growls low, just for you, his free hand smacking your ass to make you yelp. “keep it down, baby, don’t want suguru hearing how you’re creaming on my cock.” but he’s lying—he loves the idea of someone knowing, and when you cum, shaking and snotty, he mutes the call for a second to kiss your tears, smirking. “you’re too fucking cute when you’re falling apart.”

fratboy satoru who catches you washing dishes in the frat house kitchen, your apron tied tight, looking so domestic it makes his dick twitch. you’re humming softly, oblivious, and he can’t take it—you’re too much like wife material, and it’s fucking with his head. he yanks you against the sink, ripping your leggings down, and fucks you right there, the counter digging into your stomach. “look at you, playing house like you’re not my little cumslut,” he sneers, his cock splitting you open as water sloshes in the sink. “this pussy’s so wet, like it’s begging me to ruin your perfect little fantasy.” your hands grip the faucet, knuckles white, as he pounds into you, dishes clattering with every thrust. “gonna fuck you so good you’ll never dream of anyone else,” he says, biting your neck, leaving a bruise. when you cum, crying his name, he just laughs, leaving you there, panties soaked, to finish the dishes.

fratboy satoru who’s paranoid you’re dreaming of someone else, watching you sleep so peacefully in his bed, your face soft even after he’s fucked you raw. he’s high, overthinking, and can’t stand it—he needs to own every part of you, even your dreams. he slips your panties off, careful not to wake you, and slides his cock into you slow, groaning at how warm and tight you are. “fuck, even your sleeping cunt knows it’s mine,” he whispers, thrusting shallow, watching your brows furrow in your sleep. he’s gentle at first, but when you stir, moaning softly, he goes harder, waking you with a gasp as he fucks you deep. “no one else gets to haunt you like this,” he growls, cumming inside you as you whimper, half-conscious. he doesn’t soften, just kisses your forehead, muttering, “stay in my bed, always.”

fratboy satoru who’s got you cockwarming him while he’s gaming, his headset on as he barks orders at his Valorant team, crushing some rival frat. you’re perched on his lap, his dick buried deep, your thighs trembling as he keeps you still, one hand on your waist, the other clicking his mouse. “don’t you fucking move,” he hisses during a pause, his voice sharp, “or i’ll fuck you till you’re screaming and they all hear.” every time he gets a kill, he thrusts up hard, making you gasp, your pussy clenching around him. “this tight little cunt’s my good luck charm,” he taunts, slapping your thigh when you squirm. he edges you for hours, ignoring your whimpers, until the match ends and he finally fucks you proper, growling, “cum for me, show me you’re mine.” you do, sobbing, and he just smirks, leaving you to drip on his chair.

fratboy satoru who’s feeding you bites of his burger at a crowded frat party, perched on a table while he stands between your legs, his plate balanced in one hand. everyone’s too drunk to notice how he’s grinding his bulge against your clothed cunt, your skirt riding up as he presses harder with every bite he offers. “open wide, baby,” he says, shoving a fry in your mouth, his hips rocking subtly, making you squirm. “fuck, you’re so wet through these panties, like a needy little bitch,” he whispers, his voice low and filthy. “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, let ‘em all see how you take this dick.” you’re blushing, teary, trying to chew while he keeps the pressure on, your clit throbbing. he doesn’t let you cum, just keeps you on edge, smirking when you nearly cry from frustration. “eat up, you’re gonna need the energy.”

fratboy satoru who’s obsessed with edging you until you’re a babbling mess, especially after a nightmare where you tried to leave him. he’s got you in his dorm, tied to his headboard, your thighs spread as he teases your clit with slow, featherlight strokes. “you love this dick too much to leave, don’t you?” he taunts, stopping every time you’re close, your hips bucking desperately. “say it—say you’re fucking obsessed with me.” you’re crying, snotty, babbling, “i love you, satoru, please,” and he just laughs, cruel and delighted. “that’s right, my pathetic little angel, keep begging.” he finally lets you cum after hours, your body shaking, and he’s kissing your tears, but it’s not soft—just possessive. “don’t ever fucking dream of leaving me again.”

fratboy satoru who’s got a sick obsession with public bathrooms, dragging you into one at the science building during a lecture break, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. “be quick,” he snaps, locking the door, his belt already clinking as he shoves you against the sink, your skirt yanked up. he spreads your thighs wide, his cock slamming into you with a wet squelch, the mirror fogging from your ragged breaths. “love how you take this dick,” he growls, smacking your ass hard, the sound echoing off the tiles as your face crumples, tears spilling from overstimulation. “cry harder, baby, it’s so fucking cute—look at you, sobbing like a slut in a shithole like this.” your hands claw at the porcelain, your body shaking as he fucks you relentless, his pace brutal, loving how your tears streak your cheeks, snot dripping. he doesn’t stop after you cum once—keeps going, growling, “gimme another, let ‘em hear you outside.” you’re a wreck, begging for mercy, but he just laughs, cumming with a guttural groan, his seed dripping down your thighs. he kisses you soft after, wiping your cheeks, but it’s fleeting, his voice cold. “you’re okay, yeah? just us. now fix your face, you look fucked out.”

fratboy satoru who’s vicious when you try to slip away, catching you creeping out of his dorm after a screaming match over his latest stunt—spreading lies about you to keep guys away. you’re halfway down the dim hallway, heart pounding, when his hand clamps around your wrist, yanking you back. “where the fuck you going?” he snarls, his blue eyes wild with something raw, almost feral—fear masquerading as rage. he pins you against the peeling wall, ripping your jeans down, your legs forced around his waist as he fucks you right there, rough and angry, the drywall scraping your back. “you don’t get to leave me,” he spits, voice cracking, his cock stretching you so wide it burns. “this pussy’s fucking mine, you hear me?” you’re sobbing, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he’s relentless, slamming into you until you cum, crying into his neck. he’s kissing you like he’s pleading, desperate, his hands bruising as he holds you tight, whispering, “i’m sorry, fuck, don’t scare me like that.” but there’s no softness, just his grip tightening, a warning not to try again.

fratboy satoru who’s addicted to breaking you, loving how you shatter under him. he’s got you on all fours in his room, the frat house walls thin enough to let every sound carry, fucking you from behind with a sadistic edge. “nah, baby, take it,” he growls, yanking you back by your waist when you try to crawl away, your body trembling from the stretch of his cock, so thick it feels like it’s tearing you apart. “you can handle more, i know you can,” he says, slamming into you, the headboard banging loud as you sob, snot dripping onto the sheets. “fuck, you’re so cute like this,” he whispers, kissing your spine, his voice mocking as he keeps going, even when you’re shaking, cumming around him with a choked scream. he doesn’t stop, pushing you into another orgasm, his cum spilling inside you as he groans, low and filthy. after, he cleans you up, his lips soft on your swollen pussy, murmuring, “you did so good for me,” but his eyes are already glinting, planning the next way to ruin you.

fratboy satoru who flips out when he sees you chatting with a guy in chem class, his jealousy a live wire. he doesn’t confront you there—just stews, his jaw tight, until he’s got you alone in an empty campus parking lot at dusk. “think you can replace me?” he growls, shoving you over the hood of his car, the metal cold against your stomach as he rips your tights open, the fabric tearing loud in the quiet. he fucks you so hard your knees buckle, his cock driving deep, relentless, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the slick surface. “this cunt knows who it belongs to,” he spits, his hand fisting your hair, yanking your head back as he overstimulates you, pushing you past your limit until you’re crying, begging, your voice hoarse. “so fucking pretty when you’re pathetic,” he laughs, kissing your tears, his tongue licking the salt off your skin. he cums with a snarl, leaving you shaking, but he doesn’t let you collapse—carries you to the passenger seat, tossing his jacket over you, muttering, “you’re mine, always remember that.” his hand rests on your thigh as he drives, possessive, unyielding.

fratboy satoru who’s rarely tender, but when he is, it’s after he’s pushed you to the edge, leaving you bruised and trembling. after a night of fucking you senseless—your thighs marked with bites, your wrists sore from his grip—he pulls you into his bed, the sheets tangled and smelling of sweat. “you’re my only light,” he mumbles, voice low, kissing your hair, your shoulders, the purple welts on your thighs. his fingers trace the marks he left, like he’s trying to piece you back together, his touch almost reverent. “don’t hate me, okay?” he says, voice small, almost boyish, and you nod, too exhausted to argue, your body curling into his warmth. he holds you through the night, stroking your back, and for a fleeting moment, he’s that kid again—the one who’d sneak you candy and whisper promises under starry skies. but by morning, his eyes are cold again, his smirk sharp, reminding you the softness is a trap, a rare glitch in his cruelty.

[-harmonytbh]

the wayward kind still love deep 

summary: Smoke returns to the Delta after years of war and silence, he seeks the woman he never stopped loving, but the past, both sweet and bitter, won’t let them move on without a fight. (angst, longing)

pairing: smoke x black plus sized!reader, platonic!stack x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of war, sexual tension and suggestive content. 

author's note: wow, I was not expecting all the positive feedback lol thank you to everyone who took the time to read, and I hope y’all like this next part <3

Part One

Part Two

“Hey, baby cakes,” Stack shouted as he ran across the yard at her, causing the chickens meandering around her feet to scatter in different directions. 

“Elias Moore, as I live and breathe!” She called back with laughter in her voice and a tear in her eye. When he reached her, he lifted her easily and spun them around a few times, pulling easy giggles from her lips. 

“Missed you gal,” he admitted, placing her back onto the Earth, “Lemme look atcha!” 

He took a dramatic step backward, still clutching her left hand turning her this way and that. Stack let out a low whistle, and she swatted playfully at his shoulder. 

Yup, he’s still Elias. 

She tipped her head quickly over his left shoulder to see if she could catch a glimpse of Smoke. They had left things…well. It was a bright new day in the delta, and she was determined to make the most of it. Elijah Moore be damned. Stack relayed tales from all over God’s big green world, enchanting her and also terrifying her. He told her stories of battles they’d fought, schemes they’d pulled, and to her great annoyance, all the many women he’d loved. Stack was a lot of man, and he definitely didn’t see kindness in sparing the women of the world a chance to have the Elias Moore experience. They chatted easily, swapping a pail of boiled peanuts back and forth as the afternoon stretched lazily into a sticky pink dusk. 

“How’s yo Ma an’ Pa?” He asked when they’d finally run out of new things to say. She smiled lightly and peered over at him. 

“Both good, went down to Natchez to see ‘bout my Aunt Nancy. She’s ole an’ ailin’ now, needs someone there tuh look after her evr’yday,” she said back, still turning her head looking for Smoke. She and Stack had been sitting on her porch for hours and aside from Cornbread and Therese, no one had stirred the gravel. 

“Where is—” 

“You outta know that better’n me baby doll. He left this mornin’ ‘fore sunrise an’ I ain’t seen em since,” Stack interrupted, tipping the mason jar of water she’d brought him to his lips. 

Her eyebrows furrowed as she wondered where in the hell Smoke could’ve been all damn day. They’d returned from their foray into the woods as the last of the golden sunrise peeked over the pines and said a terse and polite good day. She’d watched him march across the yard taking those slow and measured steps he was known for. Never in a hurry, never unsure. Strong, statuesque—Smoke. 

“Well, as much as I just looove yer company, I need tuh put somethin’ on my stomach sweet thang,” Elias said suddenly, rising from her porch steps and leaning down to kiss her cheek. 

“Now Elias Moore, ya know I would never let ya leave my house wit an empty belly. Set back down, I got some fresh catfish already marinating,” She smirked back, knowing he saw them when he went inside to fetch the water basin she was using to soak her feet. 

“I laid it on a little too thick, huh?” 

“As always, but I know you fulla mo’ shit than a Christmas turkey so I love ya all the same, Stack,” she giggled, patting her feet dry. 

“Gon’ home an’ wash up. See if you can find yer brother, and I expect both of ya here in bout an’ hour.” 

Through the webbing of her creaky screen door, she watched as Stack strutted toward their house, back tall and strong. Sinewy muscles moved with grace and whispered of a powerfully built and agile man. Clicking her tongue, she shook her head. One was enough trouble, but God had to go and make two of em just to show off. 

Back in her kitchen, she set to work getting all her fixings together for catfish po boys, something she’d learned to make from Titus. Speaking of Titus, he’d been eerily quiet today himself. Usually by now, he’d come by with a sweet word and something for her. A flower or a stone, sometimes fresh fruit. He was tender with her like that, a gentleman. But now there was Smoke. What they’d shared during the wee hours of the morning on the bank of her Papa’s creek wouldn’t leave her mind, though she willed it to. 

earlier that morning

“If only I was that lucky, baby.” 

Kissing her teeth, she reached down for a pole and began baiting her hook with ease. He’d taught her well all those years ago, had used his large warm hands to guide her movements while enveloping her body with a warmth that set her teenage sensibilities into a tailspin. As he watched her hook the worm and cast her line into the babbling creek, he remembered that day vividly. How she had peeked at him under her lashes as he mumbled instructions against the shell of her ear. This was in the before time. Before he had told her his true feelings, before he had made her a woman. 

“So, ya back for good, Elijah?” 

He loved the way she said his name. EE—LIE—JAH, like it was an incantation, like it was raw Mississippi honey dripping from her tongue. He didn’t really know how to answer her. He could say I’m back for as long as you’ll have me. He could say come with me away from all this and start over. 

“Mmm, can’t call it,” he said instead, casting his line downstream like he always did to avoid catching more fish than her. He loved to see the twinkle in her eye when she took the lead over him, hoisting fish after fish into her pail and grinning at him proudly. Deep down she knew he was letting her win, but she didn’t mind. Just wanted to see that proud way he gazed back at his pupil. 

“That sound like a Smoke answer if I’ve ever heard one,” she said back bitterly, tossing her line back out after tossing the wriggling catfish into her pail. 

“Stack wan’ stay. Said he tired of the north, missin’ home. Figured we come back here an’ see how it fits,” he shrugged, trying to pretend that that was the full truth of why they came back home. She grunted and shook her head, sending a whiff of jasmine, clove, and sweat his way. His body hummed. 

“Umm hmm. Stack,” She said back, not making eye contact with him. 

They stayed this way for a while, basking in the comfortable discomfort that had developed around them. So many questions left unaddressed, so much history charging the air they breathed. Neither chose to broach any of the myriad of subjects they would need to eventually face head-on. They both resigned to continue this familiar ritual of theirs: fishing and longing, yearning and earning. She stole a glance at him as he focused on the dark water flowing in front of them, studying the strong line of his jaw and the stiff way he clutched the fishing pole. 

“Loosen up,” she said quietly, lowering her line and ambling on shaky knees toward him. 

She wanted him, needed him really. When she reached him, she placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. Turning to gaze at her, his eyes clouded over with all that he couldn’t say but was deeply feeling. Naïve she may have been all those years ago before he left, but now, as a grown woman, she could see all of that in his eyes was real. It was raw. It would burn her up from the inside out if she let it. 

“Don’t tell me all those years in the city made ya lose ya touch, Lijah,” she chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension, “Lemme show ya how it’s done, city boy.” 

She pried the fishing pole from his large hands and pretended not to notice the way they trembled. Stepping in front of him, she leaned back against the hard line of his chiseled body and sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist instinctively. His heart beat rapidly at her back, and she could feel every one of her nerve endings standing on end. But then again, she also felt a peace and comfort wash over her unlike anything she’d felt for the past seven years. Her body moved around restlessly on its own volition, causing her to come in contact with the rising tent in his pants more than a few times. 

“You gon’ kill me if ya keep fidgeting gal, I’m tryna be polite here,” he spoke into the crook of her neck before taking a deep inhale of her scent. 

“What if I don’t wan’ you to be, hmm?” 

present

“Hey, gal. I’m comin’ in, and I bought the ole man wit me,” she heard Stack call from the front porch, interrupting her reverie. 

“In the kitchen,” she called back sweetly, using the back of her hand to wipe cornmeal from her cheek and adjusting the dusty apron at her waist. Dammit to hell, she thought she’d have more time to get presentable before they came back. As promised, the men filled her tiny kitchen with their overwhelming presence before she could take two shaky breaths. 

“Ya got it smellin’ good in here, gal. I can’t wait to eat. I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s cut,” Stack exclaimed reaching at the food on the table. 

She popped his hand and pointed him toward the basin to clean his hands. He chuckled sheepishly and went around the corner to do a rushed job of it, no doubt. Smoke leaned sullenly against the door jamb watching as she moved easily around the kitchen preparing everyone’s plate and pretending she didn’t feel the heat of his gaze on her. 

“Ya look beautiful like this,” he finally said, kicking himself away from his spot and easing up behind her, “We can make this here an evr’yday thing if you’d seriously consider what I asked you this mornin’, baby.” 

“Smoke gone somewhere wit that, I haven’t changed my mind,” she grumbled, turning around to face him but not moving away from his embrace. His hands traced lazy circles at the base of her spine and damn her if she didn’t lean into em. The low smolder in her belly ignited into a wildfire of desire for this vexing man in front of her, and her eyes latched on to the perfect sight of his pouting bottom lip. 

“You ain’t give it enough thought!” 

“I don’t have to, the answer is still no,” she replied quickly, finally moving herself from his hold as Stack rounded the corner. He looking quizzically between the two of them easily noticing the shift in both their energies and deciding then and there that it was none of his goddamn business, especially if it would get between him and the steaming plate of food at his favorite seat at her table. 

“Alright mama, my mitts are clean, can I eat now?” Stack asked, pecking her on the cheek and flashing his damp hands at her. 

“Yes Elias, help ya self,” she giggled. 

They all sat down to eat, and they were transported back to the easy way they all used to be with each other before the sweet embrace of childhood fled, leaving them disoriented and disjointed with one another and themselves. Stories passed easily between them as they recounted the good old days spent cutting their teeth in the dusty roads of the delta.  It was comfortable. She’d forgotten how life with the twins around felt. How just being in their presence filled you with warmth and giddiness. For the first time in a long time, the loneliness was at bay, and she wished she could capture this moment forever. Later, she watched amused as they tidied the kitchen and peacocked for her attention, Stack more so just to get a rise out of Smoke. 

“Sweet thang, ion know why ya waste ya time with this ole coot anyway. Evr’ybody know the second model is better than the first,” Stack called out puffing out his chest and flexing his muscles proudly. 

“Yeah, keep on  talkin’ and I’ma knock ya so hard, you’ll see tomorrow today,” Smoke replied sending a dirty look in Stack’s direction. She laughed raucously, and the sound echoed from the walls and pierced Smoke’s heart. 

“Well well well, this must be the SmokeStack twins I’ve been hearing so much about,” a male voice called from the doorway. Smoke and Stack both reached to unholster their weapons, on high alert. Her eyes bucked as she turned toward the sound.

“Titus!” 

“An’ who in the hell is Titus?” Stack asked, watching her rise and walk toward the tall gentleman engulfing her kitchen entrance. She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and hugged him sweetly. Smoke shot daggers at them both, turning to Stack with pain, envy, and shock in his eyes. 

“Well, her fiancé of course.” 

[purebarnes]

WHAT SIDE IS RIGHT?

SYNOPIS. an argument between bucky and reader ends them breaking up

TAGS. Angst. Small fluff.

PAIRINGS. Thunderbolt! Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

NOTE. My babies. Marvel is getting my therapy bill atp anywayss please send requests ya guys have/want!!! i love hearing what you guys would like to read and also if you want to be be on a tag list lmk cause im up to create one

You weren’t exactly sure what had happened to you in the last year, to be exact the last 14 months when everything went so wrong. After the whole catastrophe with Thanos and losing many people in the process, you sort of didn’t have an idea on how to cope with that loss. You didn’t have anyone after Tony died.

He was like a brother you never had. But then you had Sam and Bucky, you thought that was enough. You didn’t need anyone else. Things were running smoothly, stable. It was you three.

Sam was your best friend.

Bucky was everything.

You deeply cared about both men so much, you all had lost people and gone through hell in your lives. But in this line of work, you understand what it meant to be a protector and people needed you.

So you had to make a choice. Even though it hurt you to even consider to get between them, you knew what it had to be.

Sam was the right choice. Right?

Sam had told that Ross had wanted him to re build the avengers. Past you would had many flaws and comments about that but it was Sam that would lead them. You knew he would be great. He obviously asked if you’d join his team and you of course obliged.

Then as he told Bucky, you only came to realize that he would be joining a new team called the “New Avengers.” Oh how that stinged.

Sam was distraught and betrayed by his best friend. Ross showed you the media report as he told you two that extreme measures needed to be taken. You groaned internally at this ‘War’ that it would create between each side.

So there you were, on the hard floor laying down. Just gazing up on the ceiling, biting your bottom lip slightly but enough to feel a little blood from your nerves that were pumping.

You felt the steps of a certain someone. He took a seat down on the floor and laid the same way, turning his head to see your face.

“This is about to turn to shit. You know that?”

Sam nodded, his face not changing.

He let out a loud sigh, his brows slightly raised. He understands what was about to happen but he couldn’t help but feel so hurt by Bucky.

“Well, i got you. Don’t I?”

Your mouth slightly raising, “Yeah, always.”

Sam leaned in and gave your cheek a quick kiss, watching him leave to go do business with Joaquin.

Bucky was a mess.

You left him. You couldn’t do it anymore, he made his choice pretty clear and so you needed to do the same. If you chose Sam then that meant you couldn’t be with Bucky anymore.

You were a nervous wreck that night..

You stood in the elevator, waiting for it to ding to show you were there but you were honestly happy that it was taking forever because you didn’t know if you were going to be able to go through with it.

Your heart was pumping, your left hand feeling a little numb. But that was just your nerves and they were shit.

You had a little liquid courage. Maybe that would help. Probably not.

The elevator doors opened and dinged and you saw that it was empty, you took a step forward. Bucky who was standing in front of the island, making a drink for himself as it looked since he was alone.

Sliding the alcohol, he drank it.

His eyes met yours as he licked his lips. He sort of relief seeing you, “Hey, doll.” He whispered gently looking at your emotional presence, your smile faded, eye lids heavy and just looking so exhausted.

“What’s wrong?” Reaching over to grab your hand but you refused him to hold you. You backed up, “Don’t.” You muttered, looking down to refuse to meet his gaze.

Bucky’s brows creasing, a slight frown appearing. Confused, “What?”

“I can’t do this. We need to break up.”

Your lip already quivered, you felt the tears already forming but stay on the bottom of your eyes clearly refusing to fall.

“No. What are you saying? Did Sam put you up-”

“No! You jerk. This is all me, I can’t be with you if you are going to do this. You hurt him.” The tears already streaming, making your vision blurry.

Bucky shook his head. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“You made your choice. You choose others over us. Your family?”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

You wiped the tears with your palm, “I hope they are worth it. Goodbye Buck.”

With that, Bucky grabbed you with all force and smashed his lips onto yours. Pure desperation, he couldn’t let you leave over something like this. The kiss full of lust. For a second, you cave in and started to kiss back with the same desire but you couldn’t do it. You shoved him back,

“No.. no. Stop.”

The second your lips parted, you let out a breathy sigh, earning for him back but you came here to do something.

“Tell me what to do..” He begged you, his eyes glistening with some sense of hope.

Your lips parted, waiting to say something. “If I said to leave, would you?”

“I can’t leave them. Bob needs us..”

You frowned at the older man, “We needed you. You said we were your family, we were there for you.” A permanent absence memory clearly.

“It’s different-”

“Bullshit. Everything I’ve done was for you, I nearly lost Tony just for you.” You seethed, a sob threatening to escape.

“Then I lost him and I had no one. Then I got you both and now I’m losing you again.”

Deep down Bucky knew the right answer. If it was for you then he’d do anything for you, you knew that but everything changed when he went back to New York.

“Please..” He voice faltering,

“Goodbye, Buck.”

You spoke finally and he just stood in place, not knowing what to say to you to help you or himself. There was no fixing what had broken, it was more then just Sam.

You started to walk the other direction as you met the eyes of 5 other people. Sensing they were the new team, your gaze turned into a unrecognizable stare.

You shook your head, that betrayal was worse then anything.

A final farewell, “One last thing. When it comes down and it will. This is a fight you won’t win and I don’t care who I hurt.”

The blonde and Brunette stepped forward, “Don’t worry. We got each other." Giving you a hard glare.

You chuckled incredulously, “How sweet.”

“You don’t have to do this.” John Walker spoke to you, a sort of understanding that he knew.

“See ya. Whenever that is..” you spoke before stopping and seeing one person, “And who are you?”

He looked up, nervously pointing. “Uh, me? I’m Bob.”

“Bob. Huh, see ya Bob.”

lifting up, you soon vanished away.

All eyes now turned to Bucky who had gulped down another glass of his choice of liquor.

Bucky, Yelena, John and Ava all walked out back in the new Avengers tower, “But we are the Avengers. The government said so.” Yelena spoke out.

“How does Sam Wilson not understand that?”

“Well, he does have the shield.” Bucky replied.

“I have a shield also.” John stated.

“It’s not a shield.” He retorted.

“It is a shield- It’s a shitty shield.”

“Great shield, Bucky.” John added before rolling his eyes.

Yelena groaned, “Okay. If he,” pausing before saying your name slowly, “put together a team then they call themselves the Avengers. Then who are the real avengers?”

Ava shook her head as Bucky eyed her since he still was dealing with losing you. It had been so difficult without you.

“Well, that’s the question the internet has been asking. And judging by the nasty memes I’ve read.. they don’t think it’s us.” John sighed sadly.

Yelena turned back to Bucky, “Weren’t you going to talk to him?”

“I already did.” He blankly spoke.

“And?”

“It went poorly.”

“And did you try to talk to her?” She gently asked.

“Yeah, she wants nothing to do with me. Nothing I can do.” Bucky blinked. Averting his eyes towards the floor.

“Great going.” Ava replied, “If you two didn’t have to say anything then she’d probably-”

“She thinks I chose you guys over her and I kind of did.”

“Do you regret being on our team?” John added hesitantly.

“No. I just miss her, like alot.”

Getting many sympathetic looks his way as he looked away, John nodded quickly.

“Look. I can help you find someone- I don’t want anyone.” He seethed shoving him harshly.

“Your track record is pretty awful.” Ava spoke truthfully.

“Shut up. I hate you all.”

Right in came Alexei, wearing an atrocious outfit like he was a nascar driver or something. “Hello, team.” Grinning at them.

Bucky groaned at his outfit, “What the hell are you wearing?”

“I heard about Wilson and your not girl anymore. They are dumb.”

“But, me, I’m smart, I’m smart man. I have smart solve.”

Yelena opened her mouth in disbelief.

“A-V-ENGER-Z! Avengers with a Z! There is no copyright.” Looking to see the approval from the team but no one liked it at all.

“Look- Feel. Like a baby seal.”

Bucky got up abruptly, Yelena looked up.

“Where are you going?”

“To go fix this.”

Bucky had not gotten far clearly as he saw you in the hall. Face clearly upset from possible tears you had fallen,

“Bucky..”

“Doll..”

You ran directly towards him as he opened his arms openly, you wrapped your arms around his neck . You both stayed there until you were forced to move. You couldn’t do it anymore, you were so alone and he was your light.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled in his neck.

“No, I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry for making you feel the opposite.”

You sighed, “I don’t want you guys to fight. I love you both.”

He nodded, “I know, baby. I know.”

You leaned back, “Can you please just try to talk to him? He agreed to hear you.”

“Yes.”

You smiled, in response you leaned in immediately peppering him with kisses, on his nose, many on his cheek, jaw, forehead.

“Thank.” Kiss “You.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.”

Bucky chuckled at the many kisses and gave you a long and passionate kiss. We’ll make out session as she brought you in a supply closet that night.

-

“Huh. You think they made up?” John asked.

There you were laying on top of Bucky, his breathing easing you up each time. Snuggled up together, Bucky having his arm wrapped around your back as you sighed happily in your sleep.

“No shit.”

“Aw, they are adorable.”

“Shut up. You are gonna wake them.”

“Just one picture-”

“No- my bad.”

You woke up to the shutter noise and started to groan at the loss of sleeping and your man’s warmth.

Bucky groaned. “You got 20 seconds.”

“What- wait Bucky. Too late.”

Bucky then had gotten up and chased them as you sat up and saw Bob who was reading his book.

“Hey Bob.”

“Heyy.” Waving at you so innocently. Oh boy.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Boy talk

Boys discuss who they find attractive and Bakugo lets slip he thinks you’re slightly less irritating than the others, so denki just HAS to let you know

After a particularly strenuous training day, you head back to your dorm to flop on your bed and pass out, but as you walk towards the communal kitchen you hear denki, sero and katsuki all chatting. After denki let out a roar of laughter, you decide to linger back slightly to see what they were joking about. You cling to the wall and perk your ears up, trying to decipher their murmurs behind the shrieks of laughter.

“So, Bakugo, who’ve you got the hots for then?” Denki quizzes as he pushes katsukis arm playfully.

“Bakugo doesn’t notice girls man cmon!” Sero jokes, pushing denki away from him.

“Im not blind. I might not see those extras as worth my time, but I do notice them.” Stern, with no infliction, if he wasn’t screaming in someone’s face, he had a very stoic tone about his voice.

“Oh cmon man! You can’t say you haven’t looked at Momos boobs at least once right? Or Ochaco suit clinging to her ass? Damn even froppy’s ass is good…” Bakugo fires a blast at denkis head.

“Shut up. Of course I’ve noticed but I don’t really care about that, I just wanna make sure I’m the best. You can see boobs anywhere, it doesn’t phase me.” You can hear his footsteps walk towards you as he’s about to leave the kitchen, before sero gets his attention and he stops in his tracks.

“What about y/n? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her boobs NOT bounce when she walks. And when she uses her quick? Hell, I think I’d welcome her putting me to sleep if it meant I got to rest my head on the….” Before he can finish his sentence, he starts to squeal, Bakugo clearly blasted him.

“Don’t speak about her like this.” Bakugo growls, you can almost feel the heat from his crimson eyes staring into the guys. “She’s cool, leave her out of this.”

“Oooooooh someone’s got a crush! So you DO feel human emotions like the rest of us…..so, you like what y/ns got going on then hey man….” Denki teases, throwing a cup of water over sero to cool him down.

“Fuck off. I didn’t say I fancied her, I said she was cool. Grow up you extra.” You hear Bakugos footsteps continue to advance towards where you were hiding, you take a few steps back and then continue forward as if you were already walking this way, looking down at your phone as you bump into Bakugos chest abruptly.

“Shit sorry! Need to watch where im going….” You huff, flashing a smile at him as if you hadn’t just heard somewhat of a confession that he finds you slightly less irritating than the others.

“Watch where you’re going idiot!” He would usually blast anyone who touched him, accidental or not, but instead he put his arms on your shoulders forcing your arms tightly to your sides, picked you up and moved you out of his way. You glanced over to denki and sero laughing in the kitchen as he plonked you down and continued to walk away. As you started to walk towards your dorm, you hear denki shout for you,

“Yo! Y/N wait up! I’ve got something interesting to tell you.” As soon as you hear him excitedly shout this to you across the kitchen, you suddenly hear a massive explosion, and turn to see Bakugo stood by the door of the building, smoke encapsulating him. You can just about make out his life ending stare peak through the smoke veil, before hearing him mutter in a dark, low tone “Denki I swear to fucking god.”

Denki rushes to you, grabs your arm and pulls you alongside him to your dorm. As you’re both running, you can hear Bakugo take flight as he flies towards the both of you, cussing and shooting short flash bursts to up his speed. You reach your dorm and denki shoves you in, slams the door behind him and pushes himself up against the door, trying his best to be a blockade so Bakugo can’t explode the door down.

“He likes you! He freakin’ likes you man!” The excitement in his voice, only lessened by the worry that he’ll be killed for telling you this. Your cheeks flush pink as you stumble back and sit on your bed. The devil incarnated likes you? Surely not….

“Wait are you sure?! I didn’t think he liked anyone like that, didnt think he could….” Suddenly you’re interrupted as Bakugo kicks your door clean off his hinges, and denki becomes flattened by the frame. He steps over it as you hear denki screech from under Bakugos weight.

“So. You think I like you huh?” He stares down at you, the intensity makes you desperately want to look away, feeling like a kid being told off by their parents. You hold the intense eye contact,

“Denki was joking around that you liked me but I knew….” He interrupts you.

“Well, guess you know now. Meet me outside at 8. Wear something warm, I don’t wanna have to be your blanket all night.” He turns and leaves, leaving you godsmacked that not only did he admit that he did indeed like you, but he actually asked you out on a date…well, asked is a generous over assumption, it was more of an order.

As you stay sat, stunned at what just happened, sero comes running in and helps denki up,

“Did you do this?! I thought your quirk was a mist thing, i didnt think you could break your own damn door down!” He clambers to pick denki up, who seemed winded but otherwise fine.

“No no, it was Bakugo….i told y/n he likes her and he nearly killed me, but…..he then asked her out on a date!” The confusion between the three of us could’ve been cut with a knife, all staring between each other, then sero let out a slight laugh,

“Guess he really is a guy.”

[zenithsturniolo]

⇢ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒… 𝐌𝐀𝐊 & 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐇’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊

you shouldn’t have left it where he could find it.

bottom drawer, under hoodies. that’s a rookie mistake. and now chris is holding it like it’s alien, turning it over in his hands like he’s trying to figure out what the hell it does.

“dude,” he says, eyes wide. “this shit has suckers.”

you freeze in the doorway. “what the fuck are you doing?”

he looks up at you, completely unserious. “i’m not judging. i’m learning.”

“chris.”

“this is the most insane thing i’ve ever seen,” he grins. “and honestly... it’s kinda hot.”

you blink. “you’re not... grossed out?”

“grossed out? no. just kind of confused and a lot turned on.”

you blink again, heat rising in your chest.

“...you’d use it?” you ask, voice quiet.

he just shrugs, like it’s nothing. “on you? yeah. fuck yeah. i wanna see what it does to you.”

—

you’re already shaking before he even starts.

chris has you laid out on your back, thighs spread open, shirt still on but pushed up, breath coming in uneven little gasps. the dildo’s slick with lube, sitting in his hand, and he’s kneeling between your legs like he’s praying at the altar of your pussy.

and honestly, he kind of is.

“still good?” he asks, nudging your knee.

you nod fast. “yeah. just... nervous.”

his voice is soft. “we can stop.”

“don’t you dare.”

he grins. “knew you were a freak.”

“chris.”

“shutting up.”

he leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then moves the toy to your entrance, tapping it gently between your folds.

your breath hitches. it’s cool, textured, a different kind of sensation than anything else, and just the press of it has you clenching.

he watches your face like a hawk, then slowly pushes the first inch in.

you gasp. “fuck—”

“good?”

“keep going.”

he does. he works it in so slow, like he’s trying to memorize the way your body reacts, one inch at a time until you’re full, stretched around the thick ridged shape. it’s different — deeper, more pressure, and your body’s trying to process it all at once.

“jesus,” you breathe, hips twitching.

“you feel that?” he says, voice low. “taking it so fucking good.”

you want to answer. really, you do. but then he ducks down and licks a stripe up your cunt and you almost levitate.

your whole body jolts. “chris—”

“what?” he murmurs, lips brushing your clit. “you said keep going.”

he doesn’t even wait for a reply. just slides his tongue against you again, slow and wet and filthy while his hand keeps moving the toy inside you, dragging it out and pushing it back in, over and over, syncing with the rhythm of his mouth.

it’s all too much.

your hands fly to his hair without thinking, fingers tangling in the strands. he groans when you tug, and the sound goes straight to your core, echoing where the toy’s still stretching you open.

“fuck, baby,” he mutters, pulling back for just a second. “you’re soaking this thing.”

you let out a choked sound. your legs are shaking. your brain is short-circuiting.

“you like that?” he asks, circling your clit with his tongue, slow and steady. “like getting eaten out with a whole ass tentacle inside you?”

“chris,” you gasp. “shut the fuck up.”

he grins into your skin and goes right back to it, fucking you open with the toy while his mouth works you like he’s trying to make you pass out. it’s messy, wet, obscene. your thighs slick with lube and spit and everything leaking out of you.

you feel the orgasm coming like a crash, fast and impossible to hold off.

“gonna come,” you whimper, hips rolling, chasing his mouth. “fuck—chris, don’t stop—”

he doesn’t. if anything, he sucks harder, tongue dragging patterns that push you right over the edge. your whole body locks up as it hits, wave after wave, cunt pulsing around the toy so hard it nearly pops out.

he keeps going through it, only pulling back when you’re gasping, trembling, hips twitching with overstimulation.

you’re wrecked. devastated. and he looks so fucking proud of himself.

“damn,” he says, voice rough, “you ever come like that before?”

you shake your head, too breathless to speak.

he kisses your thigh again, gentle now. “you’re insane.”

you laugh, dazed. “you’re the one who just fucked me with a silicone tentacle.”

“and i’d do it again,” he smirks. “five stars. would recommend.”

—

group chat: nick, matt, chris chris: Guys chris: You ever eat pussy while fucking her with a tentacle nick: Seek help matt: The fuck chris: I feel like a god chris: POSEIDON nick: I’m blocking you chris: Nick chris: She was shaking bro chris: Shaking matt: I hope your phone dies mid nut one day

a/n: mak let me use my tentacles on you... 🙏 this is a joke btw

find my masterlist here

🏷: @drewswife @k4urltzx @courta13 @briizysturn @y2kstarr @adorechris @dolliraez @rriverscuomo @sturnsblogs @mattspillowprincess @mattsplaything @sturns-mermaid @auttysturnz @sonnyangelsweetiee @izzylovesmatt @ribbonlovergirl @matts-girlfriend @pair-of-pantaloons @444sturns @weron1ka @grrrrcherries  @matts-wife @thicknick19 @slvtf0rchr1s @devotedlyteenagemusic @adoremattsturns @slut4chrisloads @cayleeuhithinknott @lyingbymalcom @sturniolo1trips @chrissbxby @alexisa78 @ariheartsmatt @slutformatt17 @chestersturn @kenziesturniolo54 @malsmind @chrismoans @sophsturns

© zenithsturniolo

[airandyeah]

Footballplayer!Sukuna X Toughgirl!Reader Who Do You Think I Am? Pt.4

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Sukuna's POV for this one!!! Warnings: Suggestive, Sukuna finds stubborn women hot, specifically you..

Sukuna’s used to attention. He thrives in it.

The girls crowd around like always—laughing too hard at his jokes, asking too many dumb questions, brushing their fingers across his arm like it’s accidental. Gojo’s throwing in some bullshit story beside him, and Sukuna laughs along, but he’s not listening.

Not really.

Not until he sees her.

There’s a shift in the air, something quiet and sharp. He notices the boots first—buckle-heavy, worn in. Her walk is casual, steady. Like she owns the ground beneath her feet.

Like she doesn’t give a shit who’s watching.

And she’s not looking at him.

Everyone always looks.

But she? She doesn’t even glance. Keeps walking like she didn’t just steal the breath out of his lungs without trying.

He cuts off mid-laugh.

“You good?” Gojo asks, smirking like he already knows.

Sukuna ignores him. Shoves past the crowd. One girl pouts, another whines—he doesn’t care.

He’s already moving.

“Oi!”

She doesn’t stop.

“You seriously just gonna ignore me?” he calls out, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. He doesn’t know what he expects—some stammered response, maybe a flinch. A blush. A glance.

Instead?

She turns like a storm.

And suddenly there’s a finger in his face.

Sharp.

Accusing.

Like she’s challenging him to bite.

“You don’t impress me,” she says, voice steady, bored even. “Your stupid bike doesn’t impress me. And neither does your fan club, so go find someone else to bark at.”

He should be pissed.

He wants to be pissed.

But instead, there’s this weird, hot twist in his chest. The kind he only gets before a fight—or a game.

He watches her walk away like a fuse just got lit in his gut.

Gojo finally catches up, breathless with laughter. “Damn. You’re down bad, huh?”

Sukuna doesn’t answer. ~~~ The locker room is finally quiet. The showers have stopped running, the guys have cleared out, and it’s just Gojo and Sukuna now—Gojo slumped backward on the bench with his hair still wet, scrolling his phone, and Sukuna sitting forward, elbows on knees, staring at the floor like it’s gonna answer all his questions.

Gojo glances up. “You gonna talk or keep sighing like a teen girl watching drama reruns?”

Sukuna glares at him. “Shut up.”

Gojo raises his brows. “Not until you admit you’ve been moping like a kicked dog since she walked off.”

Sukuna doesn’t answer right away.

Then he huffs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “It’s not moping. I just—she’s different.”

“Mmhm.” Gojo grins, obnoxiously.

“No, seriously,” Sukuna growls, finally standing and pacing a few steps. “I don’t know what it is, man. She’s just... cool. She’s hot, yeah, whatever. But it’s not that. It’s the way she walks, the way she doesn’t look at me like I’m some goddamn prize or something. The way she talks—hell, the way she told me off like I was a nobody.”

Gojo’s smirk deepens. “So, what, you into girls who threaten your ego?”

“No,” Sukuna says quickly. Then, quieter: “Yes. Maybe. Shut up.”

Gojo snickers.

Sukuna throws his hands up, exasperated. “I just—fuck, Gojo. I want to talk to her. Be near her. I wanna, like, hold her bag or some shit—walk her to class. Not even because I have to. Just... to be there. Close.”

Gojo whistles. “You wanna hold her bag? Damn, you’re in deep.”

“I wanna kiss her,” Sukuna mutters.

That shuts Gojo up for half a second.

“I wanna see her face when I say her name. I wanna know what her room looks like. I wanna know what she listens to when she’s pissed. If she sleeps on her back or curled up.”

Gojo whistles again, quieter. “You’re whipped and you don’t even know her.”

“I know her,” Sukuna snaps. “I mean—not really. But I know the type. I know she doesn’t take shit from anyone. That she hates people getting in her face. That she only just started talking to that Tiffany girl, and even then, she barely responds.”

Gojo blinks. “You’ve been watching her that close?”

Sukuna just sinks back onto the bench. “...I want her.”

As the locker room doors swing open, the late afternoon light bleeds in. Sukuna’s still chewing over everything he admitted to Gojo—not that he’d ever say it again—but it’s buzzing under his skin now, raw and alive. He’s about to say something else when he nearly walks into someone standing dead-center outside the doors.

Tiffany.

Not her usual chipper, bouncing self. No excited waving, no endless stream of half-finished thoughts. Instead, her arms are crossed, pink nails tapping against her arm. Her eyes—bright but serious—lock straight onto Sukuna’s.

Gojo lets out a low whistle under his breath. “Ooh. She looks ready to scrap.”

“Tiffany?” Sukuna frowns.

She doesn’t waste time. “If you’re thinking about my best friend, you need to get your act together.”

That hits him harder than it should. “What?”

“She’s not like the girls you’re used to,” Tiffany says, voice sharp as glass. “She’s not gonna chase you. She’s not gonna fall all over herself because you smirked in her direction or wore your shirt half off. And she’s definitely not going to put up with being treated like one of your little games.”

Sukuna blinks, stunned. He expected attitude from the girl, not... this.

Tiffany steps closer, unwavering. “She’s been through enough. She’s private. Keeps to herself. But I see the way you look at her.” Her voice lowers. “So if you’re serious, really serious—not just thinking with your dick—then maybe, maybe, she’ll give you the time of day.”

Gojo coughs awkwardly behind him. “Damn.”

Tiffany’s gaze lingers one more second before she spins on her heel and walks off down the hallway, pigtails bouncing, leaving nothing but stunned silence behind her.

Sukuna exhales.

“...I’m so in trouble,” he mutters.

Gojo grins, clapping him on the back. “That? That was a threat wrapped in friendship. You better step up, lover boy.” ~~~ It’s just another morning. She’s leaning against her locker, backpack sagging on the ground as she swaps out her textbooks with one hand, iced coffee clutched in the other. The hall is crowded and loud, as always, but it’s just noise—until it isn’t.

She doesn’t even need to look up to feel it—him—approaching. Heavy footsteps, purposeful. Her gut tightens with that sixth sense of impending chaos.

Then, suddenly, her bag isn’t at her feet anymore.

She whips her head around.

And there he is. Ryomen Sukuna, looming, pink hair messy from wind, sharp eyes locked onto her with the barest hint of smugness. And holding her backpack like it belongs to him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she snaps, slamming her locker shut.

He shrugs. “You’ve got coffee and books. I figured I’d carry it.”

“You figured?” She steps forward, brows furrowed. “You don’t get to figure anything, you brainless meathead.”

And then—smack.

She slaps him upside the head. Not hard, but enough to ruffle his hair and make him flinch slightly, grumbling something under his breath.

He doesn’t let go of the bag.

“Fucking idiot,” she mutters, turning on her heel and stalking down the hallway.

Sukuna follows.

And though she doesn’t look back, he sees the way her mouth twitches at the corner—like she might just be smiling.

It doesn’t take long before the whispers start. It’s impossible not to notice.

The sight of Ryomen Sukuna—shirt tight across his chest, his backpack slung over one shoulder, hers clutched in one hand—trailing behind a girl who just called him a fucking idiot? Unheard of.

“She just smacked him—did you see that?”

“No way. That was her bag he picked up?”

“Is he... carrying it willingly?”

A girl by the vending machine gawks openly, her gum freezing mid-chew. A guy nudges his friend, eyes wide. Even a few professors pause in the hallway like they’ve just seen a solar eclipse.

“What the hell is going on?” someone mutters under their breath. “Did Sukuna finally snap?”

“He didn’t even yell at her back. He followed her.”

“I thought he hated everyone.”

“Is he... into her?”

And still—he says nothing. He just walks. A step behind her. Holding the bag like it’s made of gold and not ratty canvas and covered in keychains that jingle obnoxiously with every step.

It’s not obedience, not really.

It’s reverence.

And it’s terrifying.

The whispers ripple louder now, like static building in the air. Sukuna trails just behind her, completely unfazed. She doesn’t even glance back, doesn’t slow down. She walks like she expects the world to move around her.

Which is why no one notices Yorozu at first—until she steps directly into their path.

“Oh—oops!”

It’s fake. Painfully so. Her foot twists unnaturally, the fall exaggerated and dramatic. She lets out a breathy gasp, arms flailing as she “stumbles” forward with the grace of a bad stage actor, clearly aiming to land right in Sukuna’s path—just close enough for him to drop the backpack, maybe catch her, maybe even cradle her in his arms.

Except—he doesn’t.

He stops. Doesn’t even look at her.

Yorozu hits the floor with a very real thud, the air leaving her lungs in a shocked wheeze.

Gasps erupt down the hallway. Someone stifles a laugh.

Sukuna steps over her without pause, only tilting his head to avoid brushing against her flailing limbs. He adjusts the weight of the backpack on his shoulder.

“Watch where you’re going,” he mutters coolly, not at all to her, but to the girl ahead of him. The one he’s still following. The only one he sees.

Yorozu’s friends scramble to her side in disbelief. She looks up, red-cheeked and stunned as Sukuna walks away, not even sparing her a glance.

The whispers now are vicious.

“She tried to trip into him.”

“Oh my god, she thought he’d catch her—”

“That’s so embarrassing.”

“Why is he following her? What’s so special about her?”

No one has the answer.

Tag list is always open! Im probably about to edit and drop chapter 5 too, so be ready ig. Tags: @nina6708 , @sherrieblossoms , @charlie-xo , @iloveredwineee , @kyo-kyo1 , @clp-84 , @book0fdr3ams , @enhasrii Perm Tags: Perm tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine , @nina-from-317

[houseofthedragonn]

“need to write a “good girl” blurb fic or headcanons with one of these fictional men who make my mind filthy please god someone send an ask because i genuinely think mine is glitching says there’s one but then says empty when i click on it wtf tumblr 😭”

Ugh I feel like I can think of a bunch of things and then blank, I HATE THAT FEELING. Blurb or HC, but what do we think about overstimulated!reader x Cregan?

I THINK YES and lol meant my inbox is glitching but my mind too and thank you for answering my desperate begging into the void🫡a real one since day one❤️❤️

to be alone, Cregan Stark

x overstim!reader

“it feels good, girl, it feels good, oh to be alone with you”

SYNOPSIS: cregan overstimulating you pushes you to your limits, but he’s proud of his good girl for lasting so long…

WARNINGS: smuuuuuuuttttt, good girl sub/soft dom

MASTERLIST

“GOOD GIRL, MY LOVE… SO GOOD FOR ME…” Cregan groaned above me, his long dark hair cascading over his handsome face while he kissed me messily and hungrily, his full lips moving hard against mine.

As he had been for what felt like the last several hours in our chambers. For once, he had a day free of duty. No need to visit the Wall in the long summer, nor treating with Princes for the Queen. Waking up from his head buried between my thighs. His mouth kissing and sucking so hard I woke with my moans loudly tearing through my throat. My hands flying to hold his head even closer, fisting his chestnut strands in between my fingers, tugging hard. He groaned into my cunt, watering with every flick of his tongue, and stripes he liked up and down my gushing folds. I came hard and fast from how good Stark was with just his mouth between my legs. The wet sounds of him lapping up my cunt like water echoed against the stone walls.

“Fucking hells, Cregan… your tongue feels like heaven—gods!” I gasped, a moaning mess, my chemise long ago removed by him in my sleep.

Quickly, I came all over his handsome face with my thighs shaking, feeling his tongue buried deep inside my walls.

He kissed his way back up to my lips, leaving a trail from my navel to my chin but made sure to leave lovebites all over neck. Sucking hard on the flesh there until he started seeing light bruises blooming. I gasped as he lined his aching cock up with my entrance, no warning. Stark slowly savored the feeling of every inch being squeezed as he fucked me slow and deep. My cunt still clenching from how hard I came only mere moments ago. My pleasure built all over again, too early, overstimulated. But I pushed through the delicious burning mix of pain and pleasure. He was as long as he was thick.

And he did not stretch me with his long fingers first this time.

“Good girl…” Stark sensually hummed in my ear over and over as he knew it drove me mad to hear him say it like that. “You going to come again for me, my love?”

I was a whining mess around his cock in response, feeling my walls stretch to fit him deep inside, clenching from coming.

And I already felt ready to come again. I tried to hold it off as long as I could for Cregan who could keep going even after a while. Windows in our chambers were all open.

I watched over his broad shoulders how the sunlight shifted over the time he spent fucking me.

“Yes! I’m close, love… seven hells, you’re so fucking handsome, I won’t last long…” I panted under him as I felt his hand go in between my thighs, circling my clit with immense pressure.

“Fucking gods be good… you’re so tight—shit, gorgeous!” He moaned loudly, biting my shoulder.

I felt his hot seed shoot inside me, warmth washing over from inside out.

But he was ravenous with an animalistic stamina, and barely gave me anytime to recover after coming a second time. Stark dominantly flipped me over on my chest. So I was face down in our pillows and wolf’s fur blankets. With my ass in his iron grip. Lining himself up with my folds again, he speared through me hard and fast this time as he held my wrists behind my back. So strong in his grasp he would leave bruises, but I could not care when he made me feel so good. Fucking me deep into his feather bed, my moans turned to screams of pleasure mixing with his guttural groaning of my name and cursing the gods. He pulled my hair this time, as hard as I had his mere moments ago with his head between my legs. I felt his hand slip around my hips to the front, in between my belly and the bed.

Pressing hard against my abdomen, feeling just how deep he reached.

“Oh, Cregan! Fuck, yes, gods! Please, don’t stop…” I begged, barely able to manage those words as my mind melted under his touch and into the featherbed with the rest of me.

I was like a limp rag doll underneath him.

Letting him pound my cunt until I could not hold back how much higher and louder my cries of pleasure got. He knew I was close, squeezing him again tightly with my folds for a third time. Moaning into our sloppy kiss, we came together. With whining noises muffled against each other’s lips and tongues. I was completely overcome with pleasure, too overstimulated to possibly go another round. But I did out of love for him and how good he fucked me.

Regaining what little strength I could, panting, I turned back over and straddled Stark.

“My love, you spoil me… such a good girl for me, gods…” Cregan sighed as he watched me climb on top of his cock.

In one swift sheathing, I had him inside again.

My cunt squeezed every last drop out of him twice already. And determined I was to make him come a third time. I moved against him just how he loved, watching my tits he squeezed in his large hands. Before gripping my hips in his iron grip.

Rolling them along with my movements in his hands.

We spent a while like that, just me riding him slow and steady at first. Until that drove Stark mad. And he started fucking up into me from underneath. His hips snapping fast and hard as he held me in his strong arms. Sweat drenched us as sounds of our sex echoed off our chamber walls. Our open windows not helping hide the screams of pleasure coming from our tower of the castle. But he wanted everyone to hear, and part of me did to. Wanting them all to hear how good we made each other feel. That I was his, and he was mine.

Clenching around his cock a fourth time, we screamed each other’s names as we came again.

I collapsed onto him, lying my head on his muscular chest like a pillow. My cheek sticking to the slick sheen of sweat making him glow. His face as flushed as mine, we were a panting, wet mess. Drenched in each other’s sweat and come. Neither of us could hardly speak any intelligible words at that point. Talking in moaning sighs, groaning grunts, and panting like rabid dogs. I was thoroughly overstimulated, my cunt and limbs numb from how hard and how much he made me come. Until he kissed my forehead and went down in between my legs, again. I gave him an exhausted, surprised look, as the young man was insatiable. It had been hours and he still needed more of me.

“What? I’m not going to let your sweet honey go to waste…”

[yanyannica]

kuroo tetsurou is infuriating to work with as a fellow class representative.

it's not that he's dilly-dallying with his duties, per say. it's far from that. this charming, athletic classmate of yours took you by surprise by how efficient and responsible he actually turned out to be; always there to help, whenever and wherever you may need him be.

a few boxes need to lugged to the faculty? he's flexing his biceps and hauling them up before you could say anything. having an athlete as a class rep has its benefits, you suppose.

"oh, i got this. you can sit back, pretty."

some plans for the upcoming festival need to be drafted? he's there by your side, playing ping ping via suggestions and ideas like it's second nature. conversation with him comes surprisingly easy.

"we work well together, don't you think?"

ever encountered a grand miscalculation regarding class funds? he somehow finds the error within minutes, telling you which part of the table you did wrong. you tell him he'd make a good slave for capitalism and he laughs it off.

"what can i say? charming men like me dominate the economy."

it's kind of scary how capable he is — almost like he's eager to help you out, but it's fortunate that all your seething over his election was for naught.

though you still aren't quite sure what to feel about it.

because he's... well...

"we should totally go out. like, right now."

if you hadn't realize it by the few dialogues the op had laid out before you, then yeah — he's way too damn coy!

"no," your handwriting falters, and you're grateful he doesn't notice it. if he did, he's awfully quiet about it. "i'm busy."

your first name then slips from his lips with that honeyed tone you always find excruciating, and you automatically flinch.

"don't act cute." you know what i mean, is what his lidded eyes say, and you narrow your own at him before averting your gaze completely — just like how you blatantly avoided the double meaning of his words.

you purposefully ignore the rising heat in the room. or maybe it was just you, since kuroo looked as calm and dashing as ev — yeah, no. it was definitely the lack of ventilation in this stupid room. who the hell does he think he's calling cute anyway? you're losing braincells each minute you spend with this guy, you swear.

"last time i checked, we weren't on a first-name basis, kuroo."

he yelps when you pinch a patch of skin along his upper arm, making him pout at you like a child.

"now, now, don’t get too worked up! i was just playing around a little."

"take it somewhere that's not around me then," you huff, giving him a sidelong look. "you're distracting me."

"you know well i take that as a compliment. your words, not mine." wow, does he have selective hearing now? this asshole!

you heave a deep sigh, completely done with it all.

kuroo is one annoying hell of a guy. you should've known better that he wouldn't back down that easily.

you two aren't going to get any work done at this rate. why were you talking back to him, again? you always knew he did it to get under your nerves. you should know better than to respond.

you blink.

unless...

warily, you glance at the boy beside you who's lazily doing his own work. the lack of his usual diligence is surprising. he was quite lively just a second ago.

well, shit.

was it because you told him to knock it off? were you too harsh?

you're not sure what's running through kuroo's mind, frankly enough. why he acts like the way he does, why he talks to you the way he does... but one thing you're sure of is that he doesn't do anything without a reason.

and if that reason is what you suspect it is...

heat rises up the back of your neck as you glare at your own share of work. this guy is seriously a dumbass.

and you're guilty as one too, it seems.

"if we finish up early, i'll let you drag me around the rest of the day," you tap the back your pen into his side, "just today."

your mind drums with a gazillion thoughts as you watch him considerably brighten up at your words.

"that's good enough!" and he starts working like a madman.

you're glad he's out of his bleary mood. but...

you blink in surprise as he snatches your own paperworks, sliding them underneath his own, throwing you a sleazy wink.

what did you just get yourself into?

bonus:

"hey — ! that's my work, you idiot!"

kuroo doesn't look up from his desk, "nuh-uh, can't let my girlfriend do such tedious work on my watch."

"who the hell are you calling your girlfriend?!" you ask, utterly horrified. kuroo turns to look at you dumbly.

"eh? but aren't we technically going out on a date later? cause y'know... i asked and you agreed...? that's enough merit for you to be called my girl, no?"

"kuroo tetsurou! i will plummet you if you don't take back your words at this instant!"

you lied. you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

[3r1nst4rk]

SPOOKED || JOAQUIN TORRES

you and joaquin had just gotten out of the movie theatre, seeing the new "talk to me” that had just came out. “holy shit, the toe scene was so freaky,” he laughed out while you just gagged. “ugh, please don’t remind me. i mean that wasn’t the worst part- but definitely on the top three scenes i didn’t like.” you shuddered, “that wasn’t the worst part?” joaquin smiled in disbelief.

“when the guy started sucking on the dogs face? HELLO?” you wave your hands around in the air. “holy shit i almost didn’t make it all through. i can’t believe i didn’t even close my eyes- probably the shock of just watching that scene.” you scrunched your face, that scene highly being stuck in your mind. “maybe we shouldn’t have seen that movie, i think im gonna have nightmares.” you shuddered. “don’t worry,” joaquin wrapped both his arms around you from the side. “i will be right next to you by your side. no lady will be sucking your toes or any of us sucking our dog’s face.” he nodded. “please don’t say that,” you deadpan.

he unlocked the car door on the passenger side, “my lady,” he spoke. “why thank you kind sir,” you bow to him slightly. you got into the dark navy truck as he shut the door behind you, putting on your seat belt. he climbed into the driver’s side, turning on the truck and the stereo blasted both of your ears. “holy shit,” you breathed out, turning down the volume. “i forgot we were jamming out bad.” you laughed. “hell yeah,” joaquin unlocked his phone, putting shuffle on apple music and the song ‘DAKITI’ by bad bunny & JHAYCO started to play. “HELLL YEAH,” he bopped his head, and you went along with him singing.

you both finally got to your shared house, getting out the truck and walking to the front door with joaquin trailing right behind you. “now without music everything’s so scary,” you mumble, a bit sad that the two of you were out of the truck already. “we can put jazz music on if you want,” he considered. you nodded, “on it baby.” he left you to go back into the living room, grabbing a random record and placing it in. "come back to me" by matt monro & nelson riddle started to play. ‘hear my voice…, where you are’ the music starts playing, and you start to get ready for bed.

joaquin was somewhere in the house, probably looking for lucy your little pet dog. “there you are,” he ruffled her black fluffy hair. he armed the house at stay, locking every single door and double checking just for your sake, the windows as well. he strolled in the shared room, leaning on the door as he saw you put your hair up to do your skin care routine while softly humming the melody of the song. “come back to me,” he softly sang, walking your way. “catch a plane, catch a breeze.” he slid in, his socks moving slick like a child sliding down a slide. he did his routine fast, getting out of his clothes and only to be in his underwear with nothing else on other than his military chained necklace. tossed it off onto the side table, getting under neath the sheets.

the bathroom was on your side of the bed, so he watched from afar on his side with much love in his eyes. he was relaxed, while on your hand you were still so terrified of that movie. “baby relax,” joaquin laughed out. you spit your toothpaste out, “oh i’m sorry dear, you agreed to sign up to me being easily so scared of scary movies like that. i just need distraction to let myself relax after one like so.”

he laughed as he dropped his head down, “yes ma’am i know i know. you’re so tense after scary movies.” you turned off the light to the bathroom, closing the door softly. ‘from the hills, from the shore’ the music played lightly in the background now that you and joaquin were talking. “still can’t believe i agreed to even watching a horror movie with you.” you shook your head. “come into bed,” the song had ended. everything finally quiet with a few birds outside your window and lucy panting on the bedroom floor, sprawled out.

“let me distract you,” he whispered, getting on top of you as he went down to kiss you. you kissed back, closing your eyes as he worked his way on you. his left hand on your hip while his other hand propped him up, his hand going up and down on the side of your stomach sending butterflies into it. his lips left yours, as he kissed the down part of your cheek and onto your neck. “joaquin..,” you mumbled out. your eyes opened, but fluttered closed quickly as he sucked a spot that was always so bruised every few days. you moaned lightly, your head throwing back. “fuck,” you whisper. his lips trailed down, but only to be caught onto your silky black pajama collard shirt. he laughed, embarrassed that he had wetted your pajamas. your lips turn into a small smile, as he looked down to you from his spot.

your hands going up to his hair, running through the soft dark black locks. he leaned forward, kissing your lips again and curling up to your side as he placed half his body onto you while you laid on your back as your nails scratched his back softly. “good lord,” he breathed. “i love when you do that. makes me feel like a cat, ready too purr out.” he chuckled. “well i’m glad you like it baby.” you kissed his lips as he looked at you with his chin on the side of your chest. “goodnight,” you whisper, snuggling closer to him. “goodnight amour,” he mumbled. “love you.”

——————————>>

a/n: EEEEE i’m sorry im so in love with danny ramirez it’s not even funny anymore 😭 i need me a man like him 😩 anyways hope you enjoyed this little blurb of joaquin torres! please lmk if you want more fics with him or mickey garcia. (lowkey im about to watch any film he’s ever been in just so i can create more with more characters of his)

[xxaraaq]

𝙀𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨

Wc | 0.7k

cw | none, just fluff

Toji x Black! reader

A/N | I got drunk last night and wrote this, then I woke up this morning and edited it a little. So i hope you enjoy!

Toji had known he was going to marry you long before this morning came. But today, today had solidified the notion that you would be his wife sooner than later.

It was early, and he was tired. Fresh off his shift, he had slept through all four of his alarms set to get Megumi up and ready for school. “Shit.” He had rushed out of the comfort his bed provided, heavy footsteps padding against the cold wooden floors as he made his way through the narrow hall, lightheaded and still halfway asleep as his hand rose to scratch his nape.

“Megumi.” His gruff voice echoed out into the empty room as he pushed through the door. 

Empty.

“What the hell?” Confused and still weary, he sighed, making his way throughout the house, seconds feeling like hours as his fatigued body dragged itself all from room to room. Then he heard it, a soft sound he couldn’t quite recognize emanating from the kitchen. He turned the corner to see megumi sat still, fully dressed with his backpack in hand as he watched you make his lunch. You yourself look like you had just rolled out of bed, glasses crooked on your face and bonnet half strewn up.

 God, you were beautiful, he thought.

It was from out of a movie, misty sun rays hitting your face near perfectly as you made whatever sandwich, he couldn’t tell, you were making, calm smile on your face as you hummed to whatever song you had told the Alexa to play.

It was all so perfect.

“Dad. Megumi's small voice cut through the peaceful quietness. Toji didn’t say anything in return, simply grunting a hello that his son had heard enough times to understand. ‘Hey baby,” Your voice is the last thing to fully wake him as you press a kiss to his cheek. “Could you drive him to school today? I wanna try to get an extra hour of sleep in before I get ready for work. Sleep had not fully left you yet, evident in the way you melted into him as he pulled you into a lazy hug. He hummed in response, and he could feel your smile on his collarbone. Another kiss to your temple, he lets you go as you finish packing it snug in his bag before pressing a gentle peck to his forehead. 

“I love you megs, have a great day today.” You wrap you robe tight against your body after he hugs you goodbye, and Toji basks it all in. You’re such a kind soul, too good for him, and yet you took the life he handed you and turned it into this; all tender mornings and gentle goodbyes.

“Go start the car, I’ll be out in a minute.” He rests himself against the counter, taking a few seconds to just look at you. “What? Is there something on my face?” You’re already wiping near your mouth and cheeks when he takes your hands into his, pulling you flush against his broad chest. “I love you so much.” He rests your head in the crevice of your neck, breathing in your scent. “I love you too.” You hum, swaying the two of you back and forth in a simple dance. He stands to his full height, craning  is neck down at you. “Is something wrong?” Your hands find their place on his cheeks, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his scar in a soothing manner. He shakes his head no, taking a moment to himself to truly take you in. “You’re so beautiful.” 

You’re caught off guard, eyes widened in surprise as a smile rises on your lips. “Well thank you very much.” You laugh, kiss him once more on the corner of his mouth. The two of you held each other, all smiles and gazing into each other's eyes until the obnoxious honk of a car horn is heard from the driveway. “Brat.”  He sucked his teeth in annoyance as you pulled back from him. “Go take the boy to school, Toji.” Your laughter filled the air as you started cleaning up the remnants of your sandwich making escapade.   

As he walked out the door to his impatient son and a car whose horn is much too loud, all he could think about was how long it would be for a morning as serene as this one to come.

He also thought about how beautiful a bride you would be as you walked down the aisle towards him.

-Nene

[bewitched-forest]

(Sinners is to blame for this rant, I explain why at the end, that’s why I’m tagging the movie here. Also, spoiler warning.)

Is there anyone else out there who can’t help but feel like they’re missing out on something when they see others practicing ancient cultural traditions?

I’m speaking as a very white, american person here. I got one of those dna tests as a kid cause I wanted to and lemme tell you, you could throw a dart at the western part of a map of Europe and hit a country I have blood from.

But I grew up in SoCal, so I was very heavily exposed to other cultures and traditions. Every Chinese New Years you had the girls dressed in whatever cultural clothes were theirs, and every Halloween event was immediately followed by one for Dia De Los Muertos. And I just remember having the deeply seeded sense of longing everytime I watched those events play out.

Because I had nothing. The one “cultural tradition” I learned was a recipe for Æbleskiver, which are these Danish pancake balls. Which, by the way, come from my ADOPTED dad’s side of the family, and the dna test said I wasn’t even danish so… Hell, I don’t even remember the name of my great grandparents because that information just isn’t repeated nearly enough. I know factually I’m all these things but I couldn’t tell you jack shit about it. Not the same way people who’s families were immersed in their cultures could. Anything I learn about “my cultures” I learn on my own. Anything I learn, I’m the first person in my family to know these things, probably the first person to know them for generations.

And so going to see Sinners and encountering the character of Remmick was a slap in the face. Because he talked about it. The deletion of his culture in the face of being assimilated. Specifically in the scene where he finishes the prayer Sammy starts near the end of the movie. I don’t remember his exact words but he basically accuses the prayer of being shoved down his throat, of being forced to remember it, but also it brings him comfort because its at least something he knows. Something he does remember in the face of forgetting so much else.

The whole fucking reason he wants Sammy for fucks sake is to reconnect with his own fucking ancestors. His own family. His own culture.

(Don’t take this to mean I think Remmick is right. He’s not. He’s perpetuating the problem he hates. I’m just saying I resonated with his words.)

Anyways. Sinners was good fucking movie. It caused me to be smacked upside the head with some very old feelings of mine. Lowkey my favorite character was Stack, and I’d argue the movie qualifies as a horror comedy.

If anyone has good sources to learn about Irish culture, I’d love to have them.

[katsuk1sw1fe]

Title: “Shatterproof”

You always thought that the hardest part of being a teenager would be exams or choosing a career. But nothing prepared you for this.

The test shook in your hands, the plastic white stick screaming louder than any voice in your head ever could. Two lines. One future. Changed.

Your phone buzzed for the fifth time. Katsuki. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. How were you supposed to tell the love of your life—Katsuki Bakugo, the boy who wanted to be the number one hero—that you were pregnant?

You curled into yourself on your bed, every part of you unraveling. You were only sixteen. You weren’t ready. Neither of you were.

The knocking on your window was sharp, urgent—so like him. You knew he wouldn't just leave you alone. Not when you went radio silent all day. You dragged yourself over and opened the window. He climbed in, brushing the cold off his jacket.

“What the hell, dumbass?” he snapped, but the usual fire behind his words wasn’t there. Just confusion. Worry. “You didn’t answer my calls. My texts. What’s going on?”

You didn’t answer. Just walked back to the bed and picked up the test from the pillow, holding it out to him.

His eyes dropped to it. The seconds stretched like eternity. You watched his shoulders stiffen, jaw tightening as he realized what it meant.

“No…” he breathed. “No way.”

“I took three. All said the same thing,” you whispered. “I’m… pregnant.”

There was a moment of stillness—complete, suffocating silence. Then he backed away a step, running a hand through his hair, gripping it like he might pull the panic out of his head.

“Shit,” he muttered. “This can’t be happening.”

The words cut deeper than they should have. You knew he was scared. But part of you—the fragile part that held onto hope—shattered a little.

You turned your face away, blinking back tears. “I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“I didn’t say you did!” he growled, but it came out too harsh. He looked away, pacing the room like a caged animal. “I just… We’re not ready for this. We’re in high school, dammit. I can’t even pass math without blowing a fuse, and you’re telling me—”

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice small. “I didn’t want this either. But it’s happening. And I don’t know what to do.”

His head dropped, hands on his knees as he sat down heavily on your desk chair. The anger was gone, replaced by quiet dread.

“Are you… keeping it?” he asked, not looking at you.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “But I’m the one who has to carry it. I can’t just pretend it’s not real.”

He looked up then, and for a second, the fear was gone—replaced by guilt.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m not saying it’s just your problem. I just… I don’t know how to be a father. I’m a goddamn mess.”

You felt the tears slip down your face.

“I’m terrified too, Katsuki.”

He stood, slowly walking over to you. You braced for him to leave—because a part of you thought he might. Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“I’m scared as hell,” he admitted. “But I won’t leave. You’re not doing this alone. I swear on everything.”

You didn’t believe him at first. Not really. Because fear was louder than love. And in the days that followed, the weight of reality pressed harder.

You skipped meals. You cried in the bathroom. You avoided your friends. Your grades dropped. Your parents noticed the change and grew suspicious. And Bakugo? He tried to be there. But even he was unraveling.

He started lashing out more, picking fights with people in class, getting detention. He was late to meet you. He missed your first doctor’s appointment.

When you called him out, he yelled. You yelled louder.

“I didn’t ask for this either!” he shouted. “I’m trying, but everything’s falling apart and I’m supposed to just smile and pretend I’ve got it together?!”

“You think I’m not falling apart too?!” you screamed. “At least you can walk away if you want to. I can’t.”

He froze then. The words hung in the air like shattered glass. You hadn’t meant to say it like that, but the damage was done.

He left that night.

You didn’t hear from him for three days.

It broke you.

But on the fourth day, he came back. Hair a mess, eyes red like he hadn’t slept. He didn’t say anything at first. Just held out a tiny pair of socks he bought. His hands were shaking.

“I thought about leaving,” he said, voice raw. “But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave you. I don’t know how we’re gonna survive this, but I’m in. Even if it scares the hell out of me.”

You took the socks, silent tears slipping down your cheeks, and nodded.

“I’m scared too,” you whispered. “But I still want to try.”

And from that moment on, you both did. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy, terrifying, and often painful. But you held onto each other.

Because love doesn’t always look like perfection. Sometimes, it looks like two broken teenagers choosing to stay—when walking away would’ve been easier.

[witchygagirlwrites]

How Dare You-Part 4

Jay Halstead x Reader (nicknamed Deuce/ surname of Barlowe. No first name used)

Jay doesn’t like the cards currently dealt to him by any means or the fact that it seems someone else has the hand he craves

Warnings: talk of sex, infidelity, gun violence, people getting trapped in cement, and I think thats it??

“Yo Halstead?” Jay could feel his back teeth grind together when Davidson called his name. He stopped walking and turned to face the other man, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Yeah man, what’s up?” “What’s the background with you and Barlowe?”  He waved a hand “What do you mean?” “The way you two looked at each other when she introduced her team. The way you two continue to look at each other. How her team keeps playing keep away with her any time you get near her but the rest of us are allowed. Apparent there’s some story there. Everyone is wondering I’m just the only one with enough balls to actually ask you”

Jay scoffed “Lets see if you have enough balls to ask her. I’m not getting into it. She hates me, all you need to know. Will she let anything happen to any of you because of it? Hell no. She’s good at her job and knows what she’s doing” Davidson nodded slowly “So, good and juicy backstory then huh?” then turned and walked off. 

Jay watched him and shook his head. This was supposed to a clean slate. Trying to find his balance again and yet it seemed life wanted to fuck him over at every damn turn. He needed to find the black and white again. The balance of good guys and bad guys yet he had to face you every damn day and you were damn sure not about to give him even an inch of leadway. 

He knew he’d fucked up a lot, knew he’d changed so much from the man he once was, the man he wanted to be but damn. You wouldn’t look his way as soon as a mission was over. Your team wouldn’t let him get within three feet of you. So, he could be trusted to have your back in the field but not say two words to you outside of it? That, he found fucking stupid.

He knew what he did to you in Chicago was fucked up. He never should have lied to you about being married but damn, he hadn’t seen you in years. You owned him in a way no other woman had ever managed to. He hadn’t lied when he said letting you go was the worst thing he’d ever done, well one of now. 

He’d come clean to Hailey the next day about sleeping with you. She’d cried, yelled. Broken a few things then finally told him to get out. Two days after that he came into work and signed divorce papers were sitting on his desk.  Then that last cover up….it was just too much. He’d gone through shit too so why were you acting like you were the only one who’d dealt with shit?

Not to mention your damn attack dog Travis. He was the worst one out of your team. All of them were overly protective of you, sliding between you and him, pulling you away from him and sometimes just straight up telling him “Don’t speak to her” but Travis? That man would work shoulder to shoulder with him in the field, have his back just fine when gunfire was raining down on them then the moment everything was over and calm? He’d look like he wanted to kill him. 

What the fuck had you told your team about him? Because those looks? Those actions? They damn sure weren’t from reading his background from his first time being active in the army or from his service record in CPD. No, they were all you. 

He knew he hadn’t loved you like he should have but he did love you. Hell he still loved you, rather you would ever believe that or not. That was one thing Hailey had thrown at him “YOU NEVER MOVED PAST HER! WHY THE FUCK DID YOU MARRY ME?” he didn’t have an answer for that. Maybe because you scared him, you always had because you weren’t afraid of anything. Hell even when you were terrified you dug your heels in and went for it anyways. Now he was here and having to face you daily and wasn’t even being allowed to attempt to move forward because you wouldn’t let him.

Jay walked into the meeting that Nolan had called. You stood at the front of the room next to him with your arms crossed. Travis stood with his shoulder touching yours, both yours and his eyes tracked Jay. Nice to know he was the center of attention for some fucking reason.

Once everyone was accounted for you nodded to Nolan who cleared his throat. “For the next few weeks all of you will be working and living in close quarters. The last mission or so were closer where you could do them and get back here within a day or so. It won’t be like this now. You’ll be moving out further, pushing out into different territories. The FBI team will be provided with a vehicle and a few of you will be assigned to accompany them. There will also be a med team picked to go with all of you”

“Are we active or recon?” Jay asked and Nolan cut his eyes at you. You stepped forward, Travis watching you closely “A mixture of both actually. There are targets along the way, there’s recon points along the way. The goal is simply just to see what we can get done over the next couple weeks” 

He nodded. “Understood” you stepped back next to Nolan who looked around “Everyone get your gear in line you’ll roll out at first light”  everyone made sounds of agreement as they were dismissed. Jay heard you mutter to Travis “This is just gonna be so much fun” and Travis chuckle “Don’t worry Deuce, I got ya” 

Yeah, he bet Travis did indeed have you. He shook his head and walked out. He needed to get his own damn gear in line, not worry about whatever the hell was going on with you and your right hand man. You might be over this thing but he was still leading the squad. He had to be there for them. 

You tossed your bag into the humvee and groaned under your breath when you heard the squad joining your team on the blacktop. You actually got along pretty well with most of them. They were good soldiers, decent people. Jay was just a trigger for you personally. 

You turned to face them, cutting your eyes at your team before clearing your throat. “Davidson, Lopez, Franklin. You’ll be with me and Travis. Jones and Adams, you’ll escort our medics with Samantha and Marcel. The rest of you are with Halstead”

You looked around before locking eyes with Jay “That arrangement good with you?” he nodded slowly, holding your eyes for a few heartbeats before he finally spoke “Fine by me. Who’s leading this little convoy, Supervisory Special Agent Barlowe?” you raised an eyebrow at his tone and the fact that he used your full title. He was trying you in front of his squad and your team before going out in the field. Really? The lot of you would be living in close quarters in fucking tents and sleeping on cots or the ground for the next couples weeks and he wanted to bring out the fucking rulers as if you both didn’t know exactly what each other was bringing to the table.

“We’ll lead it, stick the medics in the middle and you can watch our six. Unless that’s not ok with you?” you asked and he shrugged “Fine by me. Remember this is your call”  “Then by all means, let’s load up and roll out. I’d like to hit the first waypoint on schedule” 

“Yes ma’am” he replied and nodded the soldiers traveling with him “You heard her, load up”

___________________

Davidson was driving the humvee, you were sitting in the front seat next to him. You were maybe half an hour from base when he cut his eyes at you “So, Barlowe. We’ve all been wondering..”  You cut him off “If the next words have anything to do with your squad leader pull over now and I’ll go ahead and throat punch you and get it over with”

Travis started laughing from his spot behind you “She means it” Davidson shook his head “Oh hell no. I’m not going there. We were wondering about the nickname Deuce” “All of you?” you asked, turning slightly to look at the other occupants of the vehicle. Lopez and Franklin both nodded. You met Travis’ eyes and he grinned “Ok, that they can know”

He laughed “Deuce is a nickname for Medusa. Long story short, we were chasing a human trafficking ring, there was a cement truck” you watched everyone’s faces as they made the connection. “I didn’t purposely mean for half of them to end up in cement but what the hell were they gonna do? Say no? Say stop?” 

Davidson grinned “Oh I like you even more now” you laughed “Good to know” 

_______________________

Jay had decided to drive, just to have something to do but sit there and overthink. There was a low murmur of different conversations happening around him. He got along with his team, hell he’d made friends with most of them. He just didn’t want to talk at the moment.  He was thinking about the fact that you’d always known Travis. You’d mentioned him even back when the two of you were together. When had you gotten this close with him? Was it when you were with him? Was it just after you’d taken the positions on the international team at the same time, which was weird enough on its own. Would he have to see Travis sneaking into your tent or vice versa? Army regs said the two of you couldn’t be in each other's tents after lights out since you weren’t married but that wasn’t like that ever stopped anyone. Everyone always found a work around to that. You would have to share with Samantha and the women in his squad. 

He didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to hold his damn tongue when it was so obvious what the hell was going on yet you’d been ready to persecute him for getting with a partner. He rotated his neck in a tight circle and Reynolds tapped his shoulder “You good Halstead?” 

He realized how tight he’d been clenching the wheel so he loosened his grip and nodded, “Yeah, I’m good” 

Part 5

@allisonargent144

@nevaehstreater18

@alterna123

@leavemealoneplsandthx

[lucydixon]

Basement Betrayal pt.3

This has turned into a borderline miniseries. Even after this part, there's at least one more just to tie things up 🧍‍♀️ Anyways, you can find part one here, and part 2 here if you haven't seen either.

Summary: You walk back to Helvete in the rain, and Øystein tries to get you to let him help. The two of you finally talk it out, and he makes you a promise.

A little after four in the morning, Øystein was torn from a restless sleep by the sound of the front door slamming open. 

He sat up just in time to watch it slam back shut and was able to make out the unmistakable form of a person standing just inside the store. He could hear a rapid clicking noise.

His hands darted towards the light switch on the wall and he flicked it on. 

It took him a minute to realise that it was you standing there, absolutely drenched and frozen. 

He called out your name, feeling the need to check for some reason, but rushed down the ladder before you got the chance to nod “What the fuck?” 

He crossed the store in a matter of seconds and looked down at you with wide eyes. 

“I w-walked back,” you muttered, looking up at him through your wet, bunched-together lashes. 

“No shit.” Øystein snapped, running to go get you a towel “are you fucking stupid?”

You wiped some of the water off your face, trying hard not to splatter any on the merchandise. There was already a quickly growing pool of water under your feet, and you didn’t know what to do about it. 

Your movements were sluggish from the cold, and it felt like it took extra effort just to think, but you somehow decided that you needed to mop up all the water before it ruined the floors. The mop was in the back, so you carefully trudged your way through the store, dripping water the whole way. 

“What are you doing?” Øystein asked you when he saw you come into the office and start heading towards the mop bucket. 

“T-here’s water all-l over the f-floors.” You waved him off, but the movement was clumsy

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” He threw his hands out at his sides, clutching a towel in each one. “I don’t give a shit about the floor, get out of those wet clothes and get in the shower or something before you freeze to death.” 

The ‘shower’ was really just a shower head and a drain in the closet at the top of the stairs, which wasn’t much of a surprise considering the sink was inside the store next to the counter and the toilet was in a similar closet across the hallway. 

“Seriously,” He gestured wildly in the direction of the shower, looking genuinely concerned. “You’re blue. Go.”

You huffed and staggered down the hall, tripping over your soaked jeans and holding onto the wall for support. 

You somehow made it into the shower without falling and started peeling off layers of damp clothing. You were struggling with the weight of them, and there was no chance in hell you’d be able to undo your belt. You couldn’t even feel your fingers. 

Øystein was still standing where you’d left him, holding the towels. 

“If you’re gonna watch me sh-shower, at least help me get my pants off, I can’t f-feel my fingers,” you called out to him, tossing your shirt out the closet door. 

It was like you blinked and he was in the doorway, peering in at you. 

“Seriously?” He looked like he didn’t believe you. 

“V-very.” You frowned. 

Øystein studied you for another moment before waving you towards him. 

You felt pinned under his gaze when you were right in front of him. His eyes didn’t leave your face as his fingers worked nimbly at your belt buckle. He pulled it from your belt loops, and you swayed, grabbing his forearms to steady yourself. 

“Fuck!” he gasped right away, eyes wide “Your hands are freezing.” 

“Turn on the water. You’re not gonna get any more wet than you already are.” He told you firmly, “Not too hot.” 

“There’s gonna be w-water everywhere-” 

“Stop with the fucking mess, I dont give a fuck if there’s water all over the damn place and the whole store floods. Just try not to die, would you?” He tore open the button on your jeans and tugged them down to your mid-thigh unexpectedly fast. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you looked startled, but your hands reached for the tap, and the water started flowing. 

Øystein was getting soaked now too, and you opened your mouth to say something but he just shot you a warning look and got down on his knees to help you get your shoes and socks off, then your jeans the rest of the way. The whole time, one of his hands was on your waist, holding you firmly so you didn’t fall. 

You were standing there in your underwear under the lukewarm stream of water, still shivering as Øystein stood, half-soaked himself. He deliberated for a moment before peeling his own shirt off and going for his belt. 

Your eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. 

“I know you’re pissed at me.” He looked down at you, looking sorry. “but warm water’s not gonna cut it, so just shut up, alright?” 

You nodded hesitantly and watched him step out of his jeans, a little surprised that he’d left both of your underwear on. 

How gentlemanly of him. 

Before you knew what was happening, Øystein was under the water with you, and you were being pulled into his chest. 

His arms were wrapped around you tightly as he shared his body heat, periodically turning up the water temperature as time went on. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there like that, but by the end of it, you could feel your fingers again, and your teeth had stopped chattering. 

He’d flicked off the water and used one of the towels he’d slung over the stair railing to wrap you up, nudging you towards the shop wordlessly while he dried himself off. 

When he joined you, you were dressed in dry clothing. A pair of sweatpants and a tank top. You were still freezing and had your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Why are you wearing a tank top?” He immediately sighed, digging through his clothes. 

“I don’t know where anything is, and I feel like I can’t think.” you frowned, clearly still pretty out of it. 

Øystein grabbed one of his sweaters and helped you get your arms through it, only growing more worried when you just complied and didn’t argue.

Øystein nodded towards his bunk, silently telling you to go up, and frowned when you actually did. 

He got himself dressed quickly and went up after you, grabbing your blankets off your bed on the way. 

You were sitting in the corner with his blanket pulled over your legs 

“You know, you’re so fucking stupid for walking all the way here, right?” He told you after tossing the blankets over, not so much mad as confused. You usually never pulled shit like this. Not on your own, at least. “Why the hell would you do that?”  

“I don’t think I’d ever actually been in that house completely by myself,” you muttered, making yourself comfortable amongst the pile of blankets, not looking at him 

“The power wasn’t on, which I should’ve known, but obviously I didn’t think any of this through.” you sighed tiredly, rubbing your face with your hands “I don’t know how to describe it, It just felt haunted, I guess.” 

“Haunted by Pelle?” He asked softly, sitting down next to you. “Like a ghost?” 

“More like haunted memories.” She breathed, sinking down onto her back so she could look up at the ceiling, “remembering finding him, and- I don’t know. I don’t really wanna talk about it.” 

“Are you still pissed at me?” Øystein asked softly after a long pause. 

“I don’t know.” you replied honestly “That shit was fucked, but it’s kinda hard to be pissed after all this. Why can’t you just be this sweet all the time?” 

“I don’t know.” He muttered “I’ve got all this shit to do with the band and the label and the black circle and none of it works if they think I’m some pussy,” 

“Isn’t it exhausting?” 

“What?” 

“Constantly worrying about what people think?”

“I guess.” He shrugged, “You don’t?” 

“Not half as much as I think you do.” You smiled sadly in the dark, “I’m not a leader, though. I never really have to worry about anything but myself.”

“You’re not a follower either.” He hummed “You’re too stubborn for that. You’re just you, in your own world.” 

“I know that I don’t own you.” He hesitated before speaking, but figured he’d better apologize properly, especially if he wanted to make any kind of progress with you. “Maybe I want to, I don’t know. All I do know is that I wouldn’t want to share you with anyone, ever.” 

“It’s always been like that.” Øystein sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Since the moment I first laid eyes on you. So, yeah, I’m possessive and jealous and should’ve knocked Varg’s teeth in for even looking at you. I’m sorry that I didn’t. I really am. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I swear on my life I will never let that shit happen again.” 

“Good,” you muttered, “if it does, I’m telling you right now, Øystein, I’m gone. No goodbye, no explanation, no nothing. You’ll never see me again.” 

His breath hitched in his throat. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed thickly. “I know.” 

“I’m not gonna fuck anyone else.” you blurted suddenly, “I wouldn’t have. I just don’t like being told what to do.” 

“Come here.” 

You could hear him smirking as he opened arms to you. 

You curled into his side, too tired to argue anymore and surprised by how nice it felt to be held like that.

“So we won’t fuck other people.” He muttered into the crown of your head. 

“We’re not even fucking eachother.” you pointed out. 

“Not tonight.” Øystein sounded so sure of himself that it made your cheeks burn. “I don’t think you can handle any more excitement for one night, you might die on me.” 

“Maybe not even tomorrow.” you felt him shrug, tightening his hold on you “I think you’re gonna get sick from being a dumbass and walking around in the rain and I’ll make you soup and won’t be an asshole for a couple days, just until you recover.” 

“And then when you do, I’m going to bend you over the counter and I’ll fuck you till you beg me to stop.” 

You gasped softly into his chest and shuddered. 

“Then, we won’t fuck other people. Okay?” 

All you could do was nod, somewhere between shocked into silence and beyond turned on. 

“Now, go to sleep.” 

When you actually did, it was impossible not to see the irony. For someone who didn’t like being told what to do, you’d followed a lot of orders in the last hour. 

Øystein pulled an extra blanket over you, careful not to wake you, and shut his own eyes. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

Requested tag @queenlord19

[lsunstreakerl]

catboy max and bondage or blindfolds!!

OG catboy max is back!! 1.7k, nico's POV of everyone's favorite menace.

pairings: lewis hamilton/max verstappen/nico rosberg (and all subsequent pairings n all that)

relevant heads up: catboy max, maxussy, bondage, mentions of lingerie but not actually present, toys, dubious consent, forced orgasm(s), max shaming, breeding kink, this list will be shown to me at the pearly gates

"Damn it— Max, you have to hold still—"

Nico snorts as he watches Lewis try to pin Max's squirming tail, an annoyed yowl escaping their boy.

"I don't think that's working, Lew."

Lewis groans, pinning Max by the hips.

"Listen, I'm not letting that lingerie deal go to waste, so he needs to get over it—"

He gets his hand across the back of Max's neck, scruffing him. There's a plaintive meow from where he's face down in the floor, and Nico ducks his head with a laugh as Max pushes his hips up, tail curling around Lewis' wrist.

"Aww, give him a break. He's never done sponsor photos before, he just thinks you want to fuck him."

Lewis has an exasperated expression on his face when he looks back over at Nico.

"That's because he's every kind of slut in the book."

The words are accentuated with a slap at Max's ass, and the catboy splays his thighs wider, the curve of his spine becoming even more pronounced. Lewis sighs, rubbing his fingers roughly across Max's clit as he squirms underneath him.

Nico taps his finger at the edge of his jaw, considering.

"You could always tie him up? Let everyone see how cute he gets when he's halfway to heat in lace."

Lewis hums thoughtfully, two fingers scissoring into Max's cunt, spreading them wide.

"That's not a half bad idea."

Nico grins, watching Max uselessly try and push his hips back, slick glistening between his thighs. He's supposed to have a heat coming up anyways, and while they'd been considering letting Carlos' dogboy have another run at him, the temptation to secure the sponsorship deal is great.

It's a good offer, and the company has been thoroughly vetted by them both— a pet-focused brand, currently highlighting their feline hybrids line.

Max is a pretty boy too, all lean lines, fat tits and curved hips. He'd be a good model— and they'd been joking that he'd finally pay his share of the rent.

"We'd have to buy a bunch of shit, babe. It's not like you and I tie each other up frequently."

Lewis grins, flexing a bicep at him.

"What, you don't want to see all this in some leather? Vanilla, Rosberg."

Nico rolls his eyes, pulling out his phone and navigating to his email. He's not actually going to buy anything— the brand sells bondage gear as well, and he's sure they'd be thrilled to send some over.

------

"Well. He's your catboy."

Nico glares as Lewis says it.

"Convenient how he's only mine when he's misbehaving."

Lewis shrugs, perfectly content to make it Nico's problem.

"I'm sure as hell not pulling him out."

Max has sequestered himself in the back corner of the closet, and is proving extremely adverse to letting go. At all.

Blue eyes blink at them from where he's buried himself back behind old clothes, narrowed into suspicious slits.

Nico sighs, crouching down to eye level.

"Max, baby, it's just a few pictures. You can play FIFA after."

Lewis shifts behind him.

"Right, because negotiating with the enemy always works."

"He is not the enemy, Lewis, he's just pissy because the last time you said the brand name out loud, you also edged him for the rest of the night and then put him on the sybian. That's not exactly a positive connotation."

Lewis grins.

"I did do that, didn't I? Ah, but he was so cute after, you have to admit."

"Not the point."

Even as he says it, Nico's thinking of the way he'd crawled into their laps, desperately pressing against them for the rest of the night, crawling into the middle of the bed. He'd been so puffy and raw the next morning that he hadn't wanted them anywhere near his pussy— and he'd cried so pretty when Nico ate him out anyways.

He winces, trying out one of Max's— occasional— favorite things.

"You want to go see Danny?"

Blonde ears swivel forwards as Max's eyes widen, recognizing the word. It's been long enough since his last tussle with the dogboy that he's apparently forgotten how wrecked it leaves him, and only remembers what it feels like to be knotted for hours at a time.

Convenient for when Nico and Lewis are busy and need Carlos to watch him, and equally as convenient for getting him out of the closet.

Even if he's lying.

Max creeps forward, tail twitching at the end as he gets just close enough—

Lewis gets a firm hand across his neck, ignoring his indignant yowl as he pulls him the rest of the way out.

"Gotcha!"

He's quick to wrestle Max onto the floor, and Nico drops down to get a good grip on his wrists, briefly pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Maxy, you like when we make you cum your brains out, remember?"

Lewis snorts, locking a cuff in place across Max's ankle.

"He's not smart enough for that. But he's cute when he's fucked stupid, even if his brain is too tiny to remember it."

Max lets out an annoyed meow underneath them, writhing under their hands as Lewis gets him all cuffed together before hauling him into his arms and standing.

"See, that wasn't so bad. Good boy."

He's complaining loudly as he's carried into the living room, and Nico flips open the bondage box, trying to decide what might look best.

"You called the photographer, right?"

Lewis nods as he settles Max temporarily on the couch, wrangling him into place.

"Yes, they should be on their way."

Nico eyes the spreader bar contemplatively before passing it over to Lewis.

"Oh, I like how you're thinking."

There's another annoyed meow from Max as Lewis secures it in place, spreading his legs apart wide. It leaves his cunt on display, not yet ruined for the evening.

"They're wanting to save the lingerie for another day though, correct? I think that's what the email said. Bondage today, lingerie next week."

Lewis hums, lightly tracing at his clit as Max struggles against the bar.

"Yeah, that sounds right. Did we leave the vibe over there too? I think maybe he can come once or twice to warm up."

Nico pokes his head into the toys basket in the hallway closet, checking the charge on the vibrator before tossing it to Lewis.

"Don't overstimulate him too much before they get pictures, Lew."

"Yup."

He leans against the edge of the couch to scratch at Max's ears as Lewis flicks the vibe on, hovering it just above his clit.

Max's eyes blow open, ears pinning as he struggles against the bondage again, desperately looking up at Nico.

He shakes his head, tracing the fine fur at the back of his ears.

"I'm not saving you here baby, we just want you a little bit relaxed for your pictures."

Lewis presses the vibe down as Max wails, jerking in place. His eyes squeeze shut, hips trying to buck away from the toy, but Nico presses a hand down onto his stomach, pinning him in place as Lewis moves it in slow motions over his cunt, already starting to drip slick.

"Good boy, there you go. You're so sweet when we play with you."

Max's hips jerk again, breath coming in harsh pants as he lets out a pathetic whimper, fingers digging right into the couch.

Nico presses a kiss between his ears as Lewis bumps the intensity up, pressing it into him and holding it there as Max's muscles ripple and flex, straining against the cuffs and the bar.

There's nowhere for him to hide as his mouth drops open, eyes rolling back. He's trying to jerk away from the vibrator, but Lewis won't let him, lightly slapping at his cunt when Max won't stop moving.

He locks up when his orgasm hits him, back bowing off of the couch. Lewis doesn't move, notching the intensity up again as he slips two fingers inside of him, adding a third a moment later.

Max whines, high and long as he tries to collapse back, wrung from his orgasm— but Lewis' fingers inside of him and the vibrator against him immediately has tears at his eyes, lashes dark.

Nico gets his fingers tight into his hair, tugging roughly.

"Come on, one more. You love doing this, you're so well behaved after."

Lewis grins, twisting his fingers inside of him as Max sobs.

"Biggest slut I've ever seen, baby, you're so desperate for it. Absolutely dripping wet, I bet you'd love a dogboy right about now, wouldn't you?"

Nico shakes his head incredulously, pressing two fingers inside of Max's mouth against his tongue. It muffles the crying, and he's rock hard as he watches the telltale signs of another orgasm start to creep up on him, hips flexing as he tries to jerk away.

"He really does love a knot, doesn't he? Size queen. He's lucky Daniel's midsized— imagine what one of those big working breeds could do."

Lewis lets out a sharp laugh, sliding his pinky into Max with a wet noise, cunt stretched wide around his fingers.

"I think if he got stuck on one of those knots, it would somehow magically beat out the spay. Those boys can breed."

Nico coos, brushing a tear away from Max's cheek.

"Would you like that? Getting fucked so full you have a litter? You'd probably love getting fucked into the floor, honestly. You're perfectly happy letting Daniel do it."

Max spasms wildly in the cuffs as his second orgasm hits, sobbing as his ankles yank at the spreader bar.

Lewis withdraws his fingers. Two back to back is more than enough to get Max in an agreeable mood, and three is slightly pushing it. They'll save it for if he acts up while the photographer is here.

The vibrator shuts off, and Nico whistles low at the state of their catboy, cunt puffy and open, slick all across his hips and thighs. There's wetness up Lewis' fingers and wrist, and he taps his fingers against Max's bottom lip until he starts licking at them, carefully cleaning them off.

"See, there's our sweet boy. You're better when you can't use your brain, Maxy."

His pupils are wide, staring at him unseeingly, but a soft purr starts up in his chest, and Nico gently strokes between his ears.

"Photographer should be here soon."

Lewis nods, pressing a kiss to Max's nose.

"Time to earn your rent, sweetheart."