#he just get slammed with it over and over in the war games

[twojamie-o-clock]

man. do you ever think about how Jamie’s introduction comes with so much survivor’s guilt just following Culloden, Jimmy, and Alexander & how he grew and healed in the Doctor’s company, and how his final story is just confronting him with that guilt over and over and over as he’s called a deserter time and again………..

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[hurtspideyparker]

Part 3 of if Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together

Part 1 Part 2

-

Mission debrief:

Thor: Don't feel bad Banner, I mean is there anyone at this table who hasn't killed somebody?

Peter: *slowly raises hand*

Natasha: Don't worry you're still young

Peter: 😟

-

Steve: Has anyone seen my shield?

Clint: *points outside*

*Peter, Thor, and Bucky playing frisbee with it*

Steve: I guess I'm not saving those orphans today :/

-

Clint: Tony I said seedless watermelon, are you trying to kill me?

Tony: You're a big boy, you aren't gonna choke

Clint: No but it might... grow

Tony: Oh please don't tell me you still think watermelon seeds grow inside your stomach if you swallow them

Clint:

Pietro: Bro got a licence to kill but still has a Jack and the Beanstock level of education

-

2:34 am

Tony: *leaving Steve's bedroom*

Sam: *leaving Bucky's bedroom*

Tony:

Sam:

Tony: Let's never speak of this?

Sam: Yep.

-

Steve: Tony, you're the smartest person I know. You understand anything you set out to study, your passion is remarkable, innovation beyond anyone on the planet, and an incredible memory

Tony: Thank you thank you

Steve: So why do you STILL NOT CLOSE THE KITCHEN CABINETS

Tony: Uh

Steve: SOME OF US ARE TALL TONY. SOME OF US HAVE BRUISES ON THEIR FOREHEADS BECAUSE OF THIS NEGLIGENCE

-

Tony: Goodnight kid *tucks Peter into bed and kisses his forehead*

*Clint, Vision, Thor, and Dum-E waiting outside the room*

Tony: Oh come on. All of you?

*nodding*

Tony: Vision you don't even sleep. Dum-E I am not kissing you again you gave me chemical burns last time

Dum-E: *lowers head and whirs sadly*

-

Bucky: Don't sit so close to me

Sam: Why, cause I'm black 🤨

Bucky: No because you smell like ass sweat

Sam:

Sam: Why, cause I'm bl-

-

During training:

Natasha: *flips Steve and slams him onto his back*

Peter: Woah! I wanna know how to do that

Natasha: *flips Peter and slams him onto his back*

Natasha: Seems like you already know how

-

Tony: Okay Merida, you and me, darts for a hundred bucks. My suit vs. your freak self

Clint: I'll take that bet

*7 minutes later*

Tony: I have advanced AI targetting technology. SUPER. SUIT. How did I lose?!

Clint: It can do a lot of things Tony but at the end of the day it can't super suck this di-

-

Bucky: Sam's in medical so I'll do the mission debrief with you

Natasha: That was fast, I thought you'd still be coddling your boyfriend the rest of the day

Bucky: What. How do you know about us.

Natasha: I don't, it was a joke...

Bucky:

Natasha:

Bucky: Damn you really are good at interrogation

-

Bruce: I've taken up puzzles as a hobby. It's actually really relaxing

*Box is missing the last piece*

Bruce: *sighs, erases the 61 under the 'Days Without Hulk Incident' sign*

-

Natasha: Kings

Bucky: Go fish. Sevens?

Natasha: Nada. Fives?

Bucky: Shit. Here

Sam: I thought y'all were playing poker, are you for real playing Go Fish?

Natasha: Our pockets got cleaned out so we quit. The poker game is over by Steve

Peter: HAHA SUCK IT OLD MAN, AMERICA JUST WENT BANKRUPT *pulls giant pile of animal crackers to himself*

-

Steve: Do you want to play catch?

Wanda: What?

Steve: Um. Do you want to watch Hannah Montana?

Wanda: I don't even know what you're talking about

Steve: Maybe I could show you how to brush your teeth?

Wanda: Steve you're really scaring me

Steve: The article said to do it together! *shows phone*

Wanda: Are you getting parenting advice from wikihow? Did you even read it or were you just skimming the pictures

Steve: ...Well why'd they put toothbrushing in the photo if it wasn't a good bonding activity?

-

Sam: Why are your titties so bouncy man. Is it to deflect bullets?

Steve: What did you just say about my chest...

Sam: Hey I call em as I see em, and they're staring right at me.

-

Peter: Yo Mr. Stark wanna see a backflip?

Peter: Oh Cap come see my front handsprings

Peter: Natasha watch this aerial cartwheel!

Tony: Why did you tell him you were in the circus. Now that the idea's in his head all he does is jump around and cause noise complaints from downstairs

Clint: C'mon it's cute! He's talented

Bucky: I'm gonna tell him it doesn't count because he has superpowers and that he's a cheat

Tony: But that'll ruin his confidence

Bucky: God I hope so

[shidoglazer]

Hii! Nagi and breeding? Pls (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

🔞 req nagi seishiro oneshot mdni breeding kink

thanks for sending this in ! 🤍

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

nagi seishiro? everyone describes him as lazy and sloppy. and you were no exception to that, whenever you two went out? he’d be walking like he was half-dead. morning routines? it takes a war tank just to pull him out of bed. even during sex, you practically have to beg him to pull out whenever you felt his dick twitch inside of you, signalling he was about to cum, “n-nagi! pull out! fffuck, mnngh!” “mmn, i know, i know. you jus’ feel so good, angel.” he mumbled against your shoulder before he pulled out, lifted his body up and giving his cock some shallow pumps as he came onto your stomach.

one day, nagi suddenly went out without you. weird. you didn’t think much of it, maybe he was with reo, or a game caught his eye when you were out the other day. you were sat at the living room on your phone while waiting for your boyfriend to come back.

your head snapped to the main entrance as the lock made a “click!” sound, nagi didn’t have anything on him, but a square-shaped thing in the pouch of his hoodie. “sei! welcome back, where were you?” “mmh.” he responded hesitantly, going over to where you were at and sitting next to you, reaching into the pouch of his hoodie and taking out a box, handing it to you.

…birth control. you stared at the box dumbfounded for a bit, then staring back at him, waiting for him to say something while his blank face was still staring at you, swallowing the lump in his throat as he started to speak softly. “pulling out’s a hassle. and you don’t like condoms. so,” he pointed towards the box.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you were on top of nagi, hands on his shoulders as your body was bouncing up and down onto his cock, it hitting your g-spot everytime you slammed down onto him as usual. he had his eyes shut, moaning each time gravity pulled you down as he kept his hands on your hips. “y-you’re 100% sure this’ll be okay? mnngh,, cuz i’m on the pill n everything,” “yes. jus’ keep going, sweet girl.” in all honesty, he had no idea. he was more than willing to take care of you if anything went wrong, so what was there to worry about?

you couldn’t help but trust his gentle words, his tender voice, his soft expression . . . it was all so attracting. you nodded gently, falling limp onto his body as you let your hips do the work, the slapping from your skin being able to be heard echoing down the halls to downstairs. nagi placed multiple hickeys onto your neck while his hips jerked upwards occasionally to contribute to the pleasure. your lower body was burning, yet you couldn’t help but to keep chasing your high in desperation.

eventually, you tapped out , being a panting mess as you laid atop of your boyfriend. nagi caught on quickly, holding onto your waist and starting to thrust upwards, earning a moan from you from the unexpected contact to your cervix. “mmmgggahhh! ssseiii!!!.. right there!, ffuck babe,” your body arched towards him as he placed tender kisses onto any patch of skin he could find. “g’na cum inside you, mmkay?” he mumbled against your neck, feeling his dick twitch inside you.

“uhuhhh.. pleaase seiii..” your moans were staggered all around. you felt yourself getting closer, gripping onto nagis shoulders out of the pleasure you were feeling. “nagi!! gonna cum, gonnacumgonnacum!!—” he let out a hum before you released onto his cock, feeling a sea of his cum filling your stomach. he whimpered softly, throwing his head back as he placed one last thrust into you to make sure everything went in you. “fffuck angel.. lift y’rself up for me. lemme see.” he said in a demanding yet soft tone.

you slowly lifted yourself up with the support of your legs as one of his hands trailed to your lower stomach, feeling the bulge there caused by his cum and his cock filling you up. he let out a low hum at the sight, pulling you back down and kissing your temple, slowly pulling out of you, letting everything leak onto the sheets. “mmnn. we should do this more often.” he muttered. nagi felt a sense of possessiveness and ownership over you when he saw you take such a big load of his arousal into your petite hole. safe to say, you need to make trips to the pharmacy every once a month to get more pills for yourself now.

🍓

hii thanks 4 reading throughhh sorry for any mistakes or ooc parts & sorry its a bit shortt my creative juices are not flowing..

★ check out my masterlist !

[angstywaifu]

No Strings Attached - Garrick Tavis

Request: reader is fwb with Garrick you could even include some spice and they start to fall for each other but they’re not exclusive so one night she sees him talking to another girl and she feels extremely hurt seeing it. then she decides to ice him out and branch out to hang out with other people and he sees her talk to another guy and gets really jealous and feels very possessive. and then they get into a massive angsty fight Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Unprotected Sex (P in V). Angst and fighting. Jealousy.

Masterlist | Support Me

“Cmon sweetheart, just one more. For me.” Garrick whispers in my ear as his fingers dig into my hips as he guides me up and down on his length.

As per usual, Garrick was determined to get another one out of me. This would be the fourth? No, fifth? Fuck, I had no idea. My brain all foggy from the amount of times he’d pulled another orgasm from me. He was addicted to pulling them from me, and I was addicted to the way he made me felt.

The familiar knot in my stomach tightens again as I dig my nails into his shoulder as my lead lulls forward. Garrick notices the shift, grabbing tightly onto my waist as he holds me up, slamming his hips into mine hard and fast. I barely had time to process what was coming as I shatter in his arms, my whole weight resting in Garrick’s hands as I go limp. Eyes rolling back into my head, mouth open in a silent moan as my legs tremble either side of his. I feel Garrick shudder beneath me, his thrusts faltering as he comes undone beneath me.

He gathers me in his arms rolling us to the side as he lays my head down on my pillow, whimpering at the loss of him as he removes himself from me. I barely register him cleaning me up and tucking me into bed as I fall victim to my exhaustion and fall asleep.

The next day it’s back to normal. Everyone none the wiser to how Garrick and I had spent most of our night as we walk the halls the next day. Which is how I wanted it. Garrick and I were just friends. Friends who hooked up a few times a week. An arrangement that worked for both of us since it had started last year. No strings attached, no feelings and no exclusivity. Though neither of us had hooked up with anyone else despite this.

”Quinn and I are having a girls night in her room, did you want to come?” Imogen asks me as we leave the gym, both of us in desperate need of a shower after the training session we had just done.

I turn my head to look at her and tell her I’m in, but two figures behind her across the courtyard near the Rotunda catch my eyes. Imogen turns to look, both of us watching Garrick as he leans up against the wall talking to girl in second wing. I watch as he raises a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I don’t miss the way she tips her head downwards slightly, and I’d bet any money she’s blushing. I instantly see red. Wanting to march over there and pull her away from him, tell her to stay away. I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t want to do that. We were just friends. Friends who slept together. Nothing more. Why the hell did I feel like this?

”Sorry, I’ve got plans.” I tell her in the most monotone voice I’ve heard leave my lips as I turn and make my way to the dorms.

Another year done and over. Thank god. I’d been craving a drink since seeing Garrick talking to that girl two weeks ago. Since then I’d been avoiding him, which was pretty easy considering we’d all been sent away for War Games for five days and we were in different Wings. But since that night I’d opted to hanging out with my squad, mainly Imogen and Quinn. Something I knew Garrick had noticed as Imogen had told me Garrick had asked about me after I’d walked off when he’d approached our group at challenges. Even now I can feel his eyes on me across the room. It was not like me to ignore him like this, but I honestly couldn’t trust me feelings.

Movement next to me pulls me from my thoughts, one of the first year repeats sitting next to me. I remembered him from the start of the year. The scattering of freckles across his face had always stood out to me. He’d been apart of our squad till he hadn’t been chosen at Threshing. Which was a shame, from what Quinn and Imogen had told me he was one of the best in our squad.

”How was war games?” He asks me as he fills up his cup from one of the pitchers from the middle of the table.

”Tiring as usual. There’s only one time of year I will ever have thoughts on wanting to be back here, and that’s war games.” I tell him with a smile as he fills up my now empty cup.

We fall into conversation easily, laughing and telling stories and jokes. Something I had missed during the last week. And it was nice to be talking to someone new. Something to take my mind off what had happened. Though it’s not long before my mind wanders back as a tall looming figure hovers behind me, casting a shadow over me and onto the cadet I now know as Sawyer. I watch as his eyes widen as he looks behind me. A look I associated very well with Garrick.

”We need to talk.” He growls out from behind me.

I can practically feel the anger rolling off him against my back. I can see how worried Sawyer looks. Yeah, he was pissed.

”What do you want to talk about?” I toss over my shoulder before chugging the rest of my drink, definitely needing more alcohol in my system to deal with whatever was about to happen.

”In private.”

I turn and look at him. Yep. He was pissed. His eyes are narrowed at me, his jaw ticking from the strain of clenching it. Great. I tear my gaze from his, standing and pushing past him as I head towards the door, leaving Sawyer behind. I push through the door leading into the rotunda, barely making it a few steps before Garrick grabs my arm.

”What the hell was that?” He snaps, gesturing back towards the dining hall.

”Really? I could be asking you the same about you and the cadet a few weeks back in the courtyard.” I snap back as I gesture towards the door leading towards the courtyard.

His brow furrows as he looks towards where I point. “What are you talking about?”

Anger flares with in me. “That blonde who you had in the courtyard a few nights before War Games started. Tucking her hair behind her ear as she blushed and giggled at you.”

”So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me.” He drawls in a monotone voice.

”I haven’t been ignoring you. We’ve been away at War Games if you hadn’t noticed.” I retort as I walk a few steps away, needing to clear my head of the anger that was raging through me.

”Says the one who has walked away whenever I’ve joined the group and has been mysteriously absent from my bed.” He states as he walks over and steps in front of me.

”What do you want Garrick? Want me to confess that even though this isn’t technically exclusive that I’m a little jealous you start showing interest in another girl for the first time since this started happening? That maybe I realised I need to put some space between us and put effort into my other friends or find some new ones?” My voice echoing around the empty rotunda as I glare up at him.

”Please he didn’t want to be your friend.” He scoffs at me.

”Well I wouldn’t know because you couldn’t resist playing possessive guard dog after I start talking to a guy that isn’t you!” My voice cracks at the end, a tear rolling down my cheek that Garrick’s hazel eyes track.

”Trust me, there’s only one things guys want from girls in here.” Garrick looming over me as he takes a step towards me.

I scoff and shake my head at me. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that. Hope she can warm your bed till she also figures that out.”

”Sweethe-”

”Don’t. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” I snap at him before turning and storming back into the rowdy dining hall, wiping away another tear that rolls down my cheek.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[athenacoreii]

" Jealousy, jealousy "

Law x reader, Kid x reader

tags: love triangle, jealous law

A/N: I'm new when it comes to making fanfics but I hope you enjoy reading this:_)

------------

The battlefield was pure chaos—a storm of clashing blades, roaring beasts, and Devil Fruit powers tearing through the floors of Onigashima. Amidst the madness, you kept your focus, cutting down enemies, fighting alongside some of the most dangerous pirates in the New World.

And then there was him.

"Oi, Y/N!"

Kid’s rough voice cut through the din as he crashed into the fray beside you, his metal-covered arm slamming into a group of Beast Pirates and sending them flying. He grinned, wild and dangerous. "Try to keep up, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smirking. "I don’t have time to babysit you, Kid."

He laughed, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You wound me. But I don’t mind—since you’re way prettier when you’re mad."

Before you could retort, a sharp voice cut in.

"Quit screwing around, Eustass-ya. Focus."

Law appeared in a flash, the distinctive shambles sound of his Devil Fruit power following him. His sword slashed through an enemy behind you, effortless as ever. His golden eyes flicked to you, scanning you quickly. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, smiling slightly. "Captain! I’m fine. We need to push forward—"

"Then stop getting distracted," Law snapped, voice tight. But his glare wasn’t aimed at you. It was locked on Kid.

Kid grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "What’s the matter, Trafalgar? Jealous?" He leaned closer to you, his voice dropping into a mockingly low, flirtatious tone. "Can’t blame you… Y/N's a hell of a fighter and easy on the eyes."

The temperature dropped.

"Room."

Before you could react, you were yanked backward, the battlefield shifting in an instant. Law’s power had placed you behind him, his tall frame shielding you from the chaos. His sword pointed straight at Kid, his face eerily calm—but his eyes were sharp, cold.

"Say one more word, and I’ll dissect you," Law said, voice dangerously low.

"Try me," Kid shot back, his grin never faltering.

The air between them crackled with tension, but you didn’t have time for this.

"Both of you, knock it off!" you snapped, stepping between them. "We’re in the middle of a war, or did you forget?"

They glared at each other for a long beat before Law finally huffed in frustration, turning away. "Stay close to me," he muttered.

Kid, of course, wasn’t done. "Don’t worry, Y/N. When this is over, I’ll take you out for a drink..If you survive sticking with him," he added with a smirk.

Law’s glare darkened, but before he could react, you groaned and covered Kid’s mouth with your hand. "Enough!"

You could feel him laughing under your palm, mumbling something muffled but no doubt infuriating.

"Room. Shambles."

The battlefield blurred, and suddenly, you and Law stood alone in a secluded area, away from the chaos. The only sounds were the distant echoes of battle and your own quickened breath.

"Why did you—?" you started, but Law turned to you, his expression unusually serious.

"You’re reckless," he muttered. "Letting him pull you into his games when there are enemies all around. It’s dangerous."

You raised an eyebrow. "I can handle myself, Captain."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know," he admitted, softer this time. "That’s not the point."

You frowned, watching him carefully. This wasn’t just about Kid anymore. There was something deeper in his voice, something restrained.

"Then what is the point?" you asked quietly.

Law hesitated, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword before finally meeting your gaze. "I don’t want to lose you."

The words hung between you, heavier than the battlefield, heavier than the war itself.

Your breath caught. "Captain—"

"Kid flirts because he has nothing to lose," Law interrupted, voice steady but tense. "I don’t have that luxury. I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N."

Your heart pounded. This was Trafalgar Law—always calculating, always keeping a distance. But now, there was no distance. No barriers. Just him, raw and unguarded.

You stepped closer. "Then say it."

Law’s golden eyes searched yours. A battle raged behind them, fiercer than any war around you. And then—

"I love you."

The words were barely a whisper, but they carried more weight than anything he’d ever said before.

You didn’t hesitate.

Grabbing the front of his coat, you pulled him down, crashing your lips against his. Law stiffened for a moment, but then his hands were on you, pulling you closer as he kissed you back—slowly, deeply, like he was memorizing the shape of your lips.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled breathlessly. "You took your time."

Law exhaled, pressing his forehead to yours. "I had to be sure."

Distantly, you could still hear the battle, but it didn’t matter. Because for the first time, Trafalgar Law wasn’t just fighting to win.

He was fighting for you.

[suhkusa]

HELL OF A WOMAN.

PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

CW. slight enemies-to-lovers, some angst but not heavy, fluff, you're both snarky (romantic), ~4k words, slice of life, reader has a healing quirk

A/N. i'd say slowburn but it's only slowburn because i barely ever write fics this long lol

Throughout your time in the nurse’s office as Recovery Girl’s student apprentice, you’ve met many different students. They all varied– whether it be their quirk, their grade, or even the injury they had come in for. 

Students from the general education, support and management departments rarely ever made their rounds to the nurse’s office, only coming in for a simple cut or bruise. 

That left you with those in the hero department.

You got along well with nearly all of them, even going as far as becoming friends with a few. And while that was true, of course there were gonna be some who you couldn’t get along with. But, there was specifically one student you could not stand. And he’d probably say the same thing for you as well. 

It was none other than Bakugou Katsuki.

———

The first time you really interacted with Bakugou Katsuki was within the first month of your apprenticeship. It was in your 3rd year, and you had already been managing well. 

Your day had started off fantastic. Recovery Girl had left you to run the office by yourself, thoroughly trusting your working and communication skills, so that she could run errands out of town. 

The office hadn’t been too busy, allowing you time to finish a bit of your homework at your own little desk next to hers. A few people came and left, just needing a simple healing of their arm or leg. 

You had been lost in thought when he slammed the door open, practically huffing as he walked in. Putting your pencil down, your wide eyes looked up and met his own. It felt as though he was burning a hole straight through your skull with the way he stared you down.

You didn’t even have to ask to know who he was. In your first and second year, his face was plastered nearly everywhere throughout the media. Bakugou Katsuki. But you’d never talked to him. Well, until now.

Assuming he’d be like every other person who walked through that door, stating their business then quietly leaving, you broke the deafening silence.

“Uh, yes?” you let out, cringing internally at the way the words came out.

Bakugou looked around the room before back at you, “Where the hell is the old woman at?” he spat.

You were seemingly surprised at his not-so-subtle entrance and dirty language. 

“If you meant Recovery Lady by “old woman”, then she’s out of town for some errands. I can help you if–”

“And who the hell are you?” he snapped before you finished, impatience laced in the way he spoke and stood before you.

You could practically feel how your jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed at his blunt question. If he didn’t hold back, then why should you?

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m Recovery Lady’s helper. Now,” you put on the most calm and collected voice you could manage, “what the hell do you want?”

The day was going well, before now at least, and you were not going to let some egoistic, cocky guy ruin it for you. Tug of war is a game with two different sides, and you weren’t gonna let him win victoriously. 

Bakugou’s face scrunched up at the words you spat right back at him, opening his mouth to retort something– probably an insult– before letting it fall shut with a grunt. 

“What the– Just put a bandage on this shit,” he held his arm out for you to see a scrape wound running up the length of it.

You raised an eyebrow as you glanced between the injury and his eyes that looked down at you expectantly. And waited.

“The fuck you staring at?” he spoke– yelled, really– before stepping a bit closer.

A smirk tugged up at the corner of your lips before you sat back in your spinning chair, crossing a leg over the other. Like you were the one expecting something.

“You–”

“Please.” you cut him off, lifting a hand to inspect your nails nonchalantly. Hm, maybe you should get them done.

“Like hell I’m saying that, do something about–”

“Please.”  you repeated, emphasizing the word in a louder tone. You looked at him from behind your lifted hand, the smirk that once teased at your mouth now sitting there fully– mocking him.

“Fine! Fuckin’ fine!”  Bakugou snarled, his pearly whites peeking from under his lips. “Will you please do something about this?”

Satisfied, you responded, “‘Kay,”

———

Perhaps you should’ve bit your tongue before you spoke to the oh so great Bakugou Katsuki. In your defense, you didn’t know he’d hold it against you. You were joking, obviously. It was obvious. Right?

And so, everytime he walked into the nurse’s office, he’d send you the same nasty glare, practically seething through his teeth as he made eye contact with you. You knew exactly why he did the gesture every time he came in, but how long did this guy hold grudges for? It wasn’t like you publicly humiliated him or anything. 

“Why are you always looking at me like that?” you asked him one day as the Recovery Lady escorted him to one of the vacant cots, leg stretched out as you leaned back in your chair. 

“Hah? Like what?” he grunted in your direction as he took a seat, an eyebrow raised in curiosity? Irritation? Probably both.

“Mm,” you looked up to the roof as if you were thinking, “Like you like me or something, I mean it’s really flattering but you don’t have to sta—”

“As if. I’d rather watch an elephant take a dump than stare at your face any day,” Bakugou inputted as he lifted his arm to allow Recovery Lady to heal the injury along his bicep.

“Oh really? I didn’t know you were into that kind of stuff, Bakugou,” 

You fidgeted with the pen in your hand as you watched his face scrunch up. 

“You know what—”

Just as he was about to rise and stand from his spot, Recovery Lady quickly and gently pushed him to sit back down. 

“Y/N,” she emphasized your name with a familiar tone, “I think we’re running low on bandages, could you go get some from the storage room?” 

Even though her words were anything but hostile, you and Bakugou could tell she was scolding you. You let out a sigh. 

“Yeah, I can,” 

Getting up from your seat, you set your things down before making your way to the door. Not before stealing one more glance at Bakugou. He was also staring back at you, but this time there was a bit of cockiness in his eyes. Getting the last word never hurt anybody.

You slid the door open, eyes still locked with his, “You know, you’d probably look cute as well if you didn’t look like you were constipated 24/7,” 

“The fuck—”

Quickly sticking your tongue out at him, you shut the door before he was able to finish his sentence.

———

The nurse’s office had been particularly quiet today. The slow day in the office gave you more free time to yourself, which allowed you to catch up on a couple past assignments. Only two or three people came in before the lunch bell rang. After packing your bag, you waved off Recovery Lady as you excused yourself to the cafeteria.

And when you returned, it was still quiet. You quickly noticed that it was also void of Recovery Lady, the short woman nowhere to be seen. As you slid the door shut behind you, you heard a hushed groan come from one of the beds. Your head snapped to the source of the noise, quietly stepping closer to the person. 

Almost naturally, you recognized the disheveled blonde hair. Bakugou. 

But this was different. New. He was quiet for once, and the eyes that almost always were glaring at you were closed shut. Your body relaxed at the unusual sight of him. And maybe if you were crazy, you would’ve thought he was cute. 

As you got closer, you noticed the slight crease in his eyebrows, as well as the bandage that was wrapped around his torso. 

Perhaps you got too caught up in the moment, though. Too caught up in the way his chest slowly rose with each breath, the way his skin seemed to glow under the sun’s filtered light. So caught up that you didn’t realize those familiar crimson eyes were staring back up at you.

“You a pervert now?” his voice cut through silence, causing you to tense and step back. “The hell are you looking at?”

For a moment, it felt like your voice was caught in your throat. You caught yourself trying to find something to look at. Something other than him.

“Looks like you’re in quite a predicament,” you commented with a breathy laugh, not really knowing what else to say. Stupid joke.

“No, really?” sarcasm was laced in his tone, but you could hear the struggle as he grunted quietly afterwards.

Maybe you’d spare him for the day.

“Recovery Lady hasn’t gotten to you, yet?” you asked as you slowly made your way to your desk, setting down your bag.

“Nah,” he let out a huff as he sat up, “Shit— she wasn’t here when I got here,”

Letting out a hum in response, “Do… Do you want me to help you then?” you asked, even though you already knew the likely answer.

“What the hell do you think—” 

“You know, on second thought I have some homework—”

He let out an exasperated sigh before surrendering once again, “Yes. Yes, please. Help me,”

Biting back a small smile, you turned back around to make your way back to the injured man. You pulled up a chair next to the bed, sliding in closer. After gesturing him to lay back down, your hands carefully peeled back the bandages that covered the wound. You’d never get used to the sight of blood. 

You could feel the way his body tensed every time your hand neared his injury, though you tried your best not to touch it at all. 

“Sorry if it hurts a little,” you said, lifting your hands over the gash, “Just do your best to relax,”

“Whatever,” Bakugou responded as he turned his head away from you. 

It happened in a flash. From his peripheral view, he saw your hands glow, and the next thing he knew: he was fine again. Not a scar, scratch, or wound in sight. Like it wasn’t even there. 

Though you enjoyed the perplexed look in his eyes, you could feel yourself becoming rather light-headed. You took a deep breath before standing up and going back to your desk to get your water bottle. 

As you took a sip of your water, you watched as he sat up in the cot, lifting up his shirt to examine the skin. 

“Never seen a quirk before?” you laughed at his amusement.

His face quickly snapped back to his normal grouchy look, “No, just didn’t know you had a quirk at all, you usually just bandage my injuries up. Plus healing quirks are rare,”

“Mm, I get that a lot,” you mused, twisting the cap back onto your water, “It’s just a normal healing quirk though. I’ve been working with Recovery Lady to train it’s capabilities,”

Bakugou grunted in response. Silence filled the room for a moment before he decided to speak up. 

“Gonna head back to class,” he stated curtly, swiftly putting his blazer back on before stepping towards the door, “Thanks, I guess,” 

With one last glance back at you, he was gone. Leaving you and the rapid thumping of your heart alone in the room once again. 

———

“Is anyone sitting here?” a gruff voice came from above.

With the rest of the noise in the cafeteria, you nearly didn’t hear him. Your eyes gazed up from your food toward him, eyebrow shooting up in question.

“Uhm,” you swallowed the food in your mouth before responding, “what does it look like to you?” 

You gestured to the empty seats around you before going back to poking at your lunch.

“Tch, just asking,” Bakugou murmured under his breath as he tugged a chair out from under the table and took a seat.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but sneak a couple of glances his way. Just why was he sitting with you? Was this his own silent way of tormenting you?

“So,” you started before clearing your throat, “what do you want?”

You could see him freeze mid-bite, eyes shooting up to you.

“To eat? What else?” he grunted nonchalantly.

Well no shit.

“Oh really? Didn’t know that,” you rolled your eyes, “why not eat with your friends?”

“Don’t wanna,”

Your lips pulled into a thin line before you gave up. You dismissed him as you continued to finish your lunch. After this you’d probably have enough time to take a nap in the nurse’s office. In an attempt to finish your food without starting some random argument with the blonde next to you, you kept the interactions to a minimum.

After you finished, you debated your options. Did you say goodbye or just… leave? Just leaving would be rude, wouldn’t it? Well who cares, you sure don’t–

“Hold on,” he called out, catching your attention.

You watched as he quickly finished the rest of his lunch, gathering his stuff before standing up. 

“What–”

“Alright, let’s go,” he said as he walked past you towards the garbage can.

“Uh,” you followed shortly after him with your trash, “go where?”

Stacking his tray with the others, he sent you a glare with a rough, “Where else?” 

When you didn’t respond with a word but instead with a confused look, Bakugou sighed and continued. 

“The nurse’s office,” 

Your mouth dropped open in a silent “Ohh”. You tugged your bag over your shoulder as you walked up next to him.

 The walk through the halls was rather silent other than the couple of students that walked past the two of you. But not a word was said between the two of you. At least until he opened his mouth. 

“So, what are your plans after graduating?” he asked, hands in his pocket as he continued to walk by you. 

You let your eyes scan the exterior through the wide UA windows when you responded, “Hm, I think I’ll find a job in a hospital? I think I wanna work in some field with heroes, but I’m not quite sure yet… And you?”

“Obviously I’m gonna a hero,” Bakugou scoffed with a smirk, “Gonna be the best one, at that,” 

“I see,” you let a light laugh slip out at his confidence.

“What’s funny, huh?” he asked, voice suddenly scarily serious. 

Your eyes widened, “Nothing, nothing– It’s just we barely have normal conversations like this. I guess,” you quickly added.

Bakugou hummed in response, coming to a quick stop as the two of you reached the nurse’s office’s door. 

“Well,” you step closer to the door, “Thank you for walking me here, Bakugou,” you smiled.

“Katsuki,”

“Hm?”

He rolled his eyes, “Just call me Katsuki,” he turned the other way quickly before waving you off, “Later, nerd,” 

A laugh escaped you as you watched him walk away, waiting a couple of more moments before walking into the office.

Maybe if you stared for a little longer you would’ve seen the way his ears reddened at your smile.

———

“Oh! Good afternoon Bakugou and Kirishima!” the voice of the elderly woman snapped you awake, causing you to jump in your seat.

You could hear a snicker come from a certain person as you turned to see the two who entered the room.

Your eyes were met with a seemingly beaten up Kirishima and Bakugou, the two having scruffs, scratches and bruises on their skin.

“What were you guys doing this time?” Recovery Lady escorted the two to their own beds, tending to Bakugou’s injuries and gesturing to you to help Kirishima.

“Ah, just training, same as always,” the red head responded with a smile, “Oh, hey Y/N,”

You could feel the ends of your mouth tug upwards at his greeting, “Hey,”

“How’s everything been?” 

As you continued your chatter with Kirishima and helped him with his injuries, you didn’t seem to see or feel the daggers of stares that Bakugou sent in your direction.

On the other hand, Bakugou didn’t even know why he felt like this. 

What was he pissed about? It’s not like the two of you are friends. Did you consider him a friend? Yet why did it feel so utterly annoying to watch you interact with some other guy? 

That was beyond Bakugou. 

Maybe he already knew the answer. And maybe he didn’t want to come to terms with what that answer held.

Either way he couldn’t take another second of this.

“Bakugou? Where are you going—”

The sound of Recovery Lady’s frantic voice caught the attention of you and Kirishima. Your eyebrow raised in confusion as the blonde made his way to the door with the little lady following him.

“You’re not fully healed yet,” the old woman claimed.

“It’s fine,” 

“Let him,” Kirishima said after Bakugou slammed the door shut. “He’s been a little off lately,”

You wrapped a bandage around Kirishima’s elbow, “Off? How?”

Kirishima’s eyes looked up in thought, “He’s been kinda closed off lately; barely comes to our hangouts,”

“Ooh,” you sighed as you continued helping the guy in front of you.

There was a seedling of worry planted in your stomach, and you barely had any clue why. It’s not like you guys were close. He was just some guy who came to the nurse’s office like every other student. Maybe those late nights staying up were finally catching up to you. 

After cleaning up and sending Kirishima off, you were finally left alone. Recovery Lady had left a while ago to fetch some supplies from the storage room. And so that left you and your thoughts alone in the office.

———

A week had gone by.

A week had gone by, and there had been radio silence from Bakugou.

Either training had slowed down or he was completely avoiding you. And either way, it still made you a bit sad. Only a bit. 

Days in the nurse’s office were slow and lonely. You never made a real connection with anyone. People came and people left. They come to get healed and leave. No side talk, albeit a few exceptions. Bakugou being one of those.

 There were times where you thought you saw him entering the nurse’s office when you were leaving, but the glimpses were so small that you chalked it up to your imagination.

It felt like he was consuming your every thought, so you had no choice but to accept the fact that maybe you had a crush on Bakugou. Maybe.

But so what? That was normal, everyone had a crush on him at one point. Too bad you fell victim along with the rest of them, though.

Admitting to yourself that you liked Bakugou was hard, but having to actually deal with the feelings you had was harder. One, because you’ve never really had a serious crush. And two, he was nowhere to be seen. Having a crush on him made your heart beat so quick that you’d use your quirk on yourself to make sure you weren’t having heart problems.

Soon, one week turned into two.

And it seemed like the office was only getting busier as the third years prepared for their finals. Everyone was in and out as they practiced their hand to hand combat more vigorously and more often.

The first couple of days, it was easy. But towards the end of the week, you began to fatigue. Having to balance your own finals and running around the office having to use your quirk over and over was doing a number on you. 

The injuries were becoming worse, the amount was increasing. At times, you were dizzy with how many times you’d have to keep turning around from bed to bed to help someone new. 

Then there was a calm. You barely noticed a full week of finals had swung by, leaving the clinic empty and quiet. 

“Is it alright if I nap during the passing period?” you turn in your chair to Recovery Lady, who is stocking up the medicine cabinets.

“Of course, you should be fine, if anything I can handle anyone who comes in,” she tells you.

You sigh in relief as you walk to the nearest bed on weak legs, basically melting into it as soon as your body hits the cushion. You knock out on the spot, letting your well-deserved slumber overcome you.

———

 Your slumber is interrupted by a slight jolt to the bed frame you’re lying on. You groan as you flip onto your other side. The light escapes through your lashes, creating a blurred light illusion with a silhouette. Your eyes shot open, a silhouette? 

You become conscious of yourself as soon as you realize the one before you is none other than Bakugou Katsuki. There’s a stupid grin on his face which makes you want to slap it right off of him. You sneakily nudge at the drool on the side of your mouth and adjust your clothing and appearance.

“Finally awake, sleeping beauty?” he says from the seat beside you, and it feels like forever since you’ve last heard that voice of his.

“Yeah, because of someone,” you grumbled, eyebrows scrunching up. He laughs, laughs, as his eyes focus on you.

“It’s getting late,” is all he says.

You have half a mind to respond, until you remember that he’s been avoiding you. Your eyebrows tighten together impossibly closer, as you flip to face away from him.

“You’re a dick,” you say matter-of-factly. “You’ve been avoiding me, I’m not stupid,”

Your eyes are jittery as they look everywhere. Trying to focus on something in the room to distract yourself from all of the possibilities of what might come out of his mouth.

“Why do you care?”

His words cause you to sit up, facing him once more. “What do you even mean, why? I used to see you everyday, then suddenly you just walked out and I never saw you again,”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly roll at your words, and it kind of hurts.

“I just thought maybe we were…” your words trail off causing Bakugou to stare at you more intently.

“Were what?”

“I don’t know, friends, or some shit,” you bury your head in your hands out of embarrassment.

“Did I say we weren’t?”

“Well, you never said we were,”

“Didn’t think I had to,” he says, “Thought you were smarter than that, doc,”

You smile at the nickname. “You can leave now, I’m awake, I just have to close up the clinic. Why were you here in the first place?”

“Had to make sure you weren’t dead or something,”

Laughing, you get up to fix the bed sheets. The words that fly out of your mouth come out on their own. 

“What, do you like me or something?”

“Probably,”

His careless response didn’t register in your mind at first, but when it did, you could feel the heat rush from the back of your neck up to the tips of your ears. 

“W-What? You can’t just say that… weirdo,” your eyes flick up at him then back down to the sheets, fluffing up the already neat pillows. 

Silence filters through the room, the only noise filling your ears being the noise of cotton and linen being moved around. Along with the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. It felt so loud, that you swear he could probably hear it as well. You didn’t know what to do, was this real life?

Did those words really just come out of his mouth?

His head tilted and you could feel his gaze on you. It was nerve-wracking, and you were just hoping and praying he’d say something that’d clear your mind. A small, “just kidding,” would be nice right about now. The hurt you’d feel from that would be better than the anxiety you felt at this instant. 

“Say what?” he mocks, and it causes your eye to twitch.

You decide you’re not playing these games with Katsuki Bakugou today, “Oh nothing, must’ve been the wind,” you flutter your eyes before turning the other direction to fix up another bed that looks like it’d been used.

A hand on your wrist puts a stop to your motions, and it immediately makes your head turn back to meet his eyes. 

“B- Katsuki–”

You’d usually be able to come up with something snarky, but right now all your words were caught in your throat. You were actually scared to say the wrong thing for once.

“You were joking right?” you ask him, nervous for what his answer might be.

Bakugou is quick to retort, “Depends, were you?”

You gulp down your anxiety before giving him a response, “N-No,”

“Then? Use that smart little brain of yours, doc,”

“Say it,” you demand, “I’m not playing this little game with you, so say it,”

His ruby eyes roll before connecting gazes with yours once again, “I like you, or something,” he mimics your words from earlier.

You can feel yourself fluster. The dizziness in your head almost made you convince yourself that you were dreaming. If this was a dream, you wanted All Might himself to pop out and punch you across the face.

“Why don’t you say something now, hm?” his grip around your wrist loosens to a more gentle grasp.

His face closens to yours, the distance between the two of you is only breaths-length. 

“Since you’re so smart, you tell me,” you sass, “Take a guess, smartass,” 

A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, “You’re such a dick,” he whispers under his breath before closing the distance completely, his lips locking with yours. 

Your eyes widen at the pure shock, but you ultimately melt into the kiss. It’s sweet and you can feel the two of you smiling into it. 

When the two of you part, you can feel slight embarrassment wash over you. “You’re an ass, you didn’t even let me confess, my high school sweetheart experience is ruined forever, 

Bakugou lets out a breathy laugh at your words, “Thought you wanted me to take a guess,” 

“And if you were wrong?” 

“Hah, as if,”

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[mediumgayitalian]

It is normal for infirmary medics to work a night shift.

It is normal for infirmary medics to work a night shift.

Especially if they’re in charge.

Especially if they’re a demigod.

Especially if they’re the most powerful healer in centuries and the Romans — and their war games — are visiting.

“Holy gods above,” Nico shouts, and trudges to the door.

The marble floor is fucking cold on his fucking bare feet (bare, because Solace mutters about his sleeping in boots), the fucking air is fucking frosty on his warmed skin (warmed, because Solace insists on piling his bed with thick blankets), and his fucking sword is far as fuck away in the corner of his dark fucking cabin (far, because of Solace, and his wide, teasing smiles, and his stupid raised brows and prodding questions and teasing dares).

“Fuck this camp and fuck Will Solace,” he announces, wrenching open the door.

“If that is what will make you shut the heck up!” Hazel shouts at his retreating back, pillow jammed over her head. Nico’s face burns bright red as he flees.

It is too godsdamn early in the stupid godsdamn morning for this.

By the stars, it is hardly past two. Not even witching hour. Last summer, Nico wouldn’t even dream of sleeping at this hour. Wouldn’t even consider it. The Nico of last summer would be awake, back straight, boots tied firmly on, sword held in tight, tired hands. Eyes trained on the exit. The Nico of last summer was prepared. The Nico of last summer was battle-hardened and vigilant. The Nico of last summer was badass, and not stomping across the stupid fucking common to the stupid fucking Big House kitchen to get a stupid fucking sandwich because their stupid fucking head medic is a stupid fucking idiot who never, not even once, practices what he preaches.

“I hate him,” Nico announces to nobody. Maybe the harpies. But they steer clear of him, because he used to be cool, and they’re smart creatures, even as they edge the constraints of his death aura and regard him warily.

He really shouldn’t be out this late, flaunting it in their faces.

Whatever. As long as the little kids don’t see and copy him.

He forces himself to soften his step as he approaches the door, wary for all his annoyance at waking Chiron — the harpies may be afraid of him, but the centaur most certainly is not. Not even when Nico threatened a real life zombie apocalypse if he had to clean the stables. (Which stunk. And the zombies in question were no help, because everything is the worst and sucks horribly, and even they were better than Solace, who sat on a nearby rock and laughed himself to tears every time he looked over.)

“I hate him for real,” Nico whispers, still kind of yelling a little.

There is no meal ready in the fridge, which confirms Nico’s theory. He digs around to make sure, shoving aside the Lucky Ranch Of 1998, tossing an empty yoghurt container over his shoulder, and elbowing aside a jar filled with nothing but brine and leftover cucumber seeds.

“Of course I remembered to pack a dinner, you worry too much,” he mocks, in a Texan accent as purposefully offensive as he can make it, “nyeh nyeh nyeh.” He barely manages not to slam the fridge doors shut. “Gods, I hate him to death.”

He stalks over to the pantry and fists a loaf of toast. He holds a butter knife as threateningly as he can manage, glaring at the peanut butter, and assembles a sandwich with his eyes screwed shut and his brain beaming a beacon of hate with enough force to hopefully taste.

“Hate,” he reiterates, then repeats it in four languages just to be sure.

He grabs the plate and stomps over to the infirmary, opening the door quietly because there are sleeping people and he is not a monster. He makes sure to bare his teeth.

Solace, however, does not even startle at the door, and grins brightly at the sound of him. Nico’s eyes ache from the strain.

“Neeks!” he calls, in a poor attempt at a whisper. Nico’s heart immediately softens.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he tells it.

Will pays his muttering no heed. Instead, he beelines for the sandwich, taking the plate in hand and beaming even brighter, somehow.

Spots dance in Nico’s vision.

“You made my favourite!” he exclaims over mouthfuls of peanut butter, which is disgusting. Nico is repulsed by him and his total disregard for manners and tact and etiquette and also Nico’s heart problems and reputation.

“I hate you and hope you choke,” Nico responds.

Will’s infernal eyebrows wiggle. He swallows, polishing off the last of the sandwich because he is a gross freak who eats things in two bites and is horrible, and scrunches his nose. His freckles hide in the folds of his tan skin, and it’s so awful that it makes Nico want to punch him. Gently.

Because Solace is bad at hand to hand, and Nico is not a monster.

Obviously.

“Thank you,” he says, and faster than Nico can follow leans forward and pecks a kiss to his cheek. Nico’s mouth opens. Will leans back and grins. Nico’s mouth closes. Will’s grin gets sharper.

Nico turns around and walks away.

“I really do appreciate it,” Will calls, cackling as quietly as he can manage.

Which is not at all quietly, because unlike Nico, Will is a monster and has no issue bothering his sleeping patients. Also, he wouldn’t know quiet and stealthy if it roundhouse kicked him in the face and stole his organs and will die immediately in combat if Nico isn’t there to protect him. Because he is stupid and Nico hates him.

And his stupid fucking melodic fucking laughter.

“I hate him,” Nico seethes to himself, and dashes back to his stupid fucking cabin.

Hazel laughs at his burning face until she chokes.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Two Lattes and a Truce, Please | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: WAR IS OVER

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Max barely had time to react before George slammed him harder against the wall, his forearm pressing into Max’s chest. The eerily calm facade George had worn moments earlier had shattered, his eyes burning with unrestrained fury.

“How dare you?” George hissed, his voice low and shaking with rage. “How dare you go after my sister? Was this some twisted ploy to get back at me?”

Max blinked, stunned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” George snapped, his volume rising. “Do you hate me so much that you thought screwing my family was fair game? What kind of sick—”

“That’s enough,” Max growled, shoving George’s arm off his chest and stepping forward. His tone was sharp, cutting through George’s tirade. “This isn’t about you, George. This was never about you.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” George shot back, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’ve been dating her for over a year, Max! Behind my back! You can’t stand me, fine, but don’t drag my sister into this mess. And now—” His voice cracked slightly as his fury spiked again. “Now, you’ve got her pregnant?”

Max stiffened at the accusation, his jaw tightening. “Yes, we’ve been together for over a year. And no, this wasn’t some game or some vendetta. I love her.”

George let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Love her? That’s rich coming from you. You’ve spent years with a reputation for flings and one-night stands, and now you expect me to believe you’re suddenly the poster boy for commitment?”

Max’s eyes flashed. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about her. And you don’t know anything about us. She’s not just your sister, George—she’s my everything.”

George’s face twisted with a mix of anger and betrayal. “We used to be friends, Max. Before all this… tension, before the media shitstorm, I trusted you. And now I find out you’ve been sneaking around with my sister, lying to me—”

“We weren’t sneaking around to hurt you,” Max cut in. His voice softened slightly, but the edge remained. “We didn’t tell you because we knew this is exactly how you’d react. You wouldn’t have given me a chance.”

“And why the hell should I have?” George shouted, taking a step forward. “You could’ve come to me! You should’ve come to me! Instead, you lied to my face for a year, Max.”

Before the argument could escalate further, a panicked voice echoed down the alley.

“George!”

Both men turned to see Y/n running toward them, her expression a mix of frustration and fear.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled, her voice cracking. “George, let him go!”

George hesitated for a fraction of a second before releasing Max, stepping back but still glaring at him.

Max rubbed his shoulder, muttering, “Nice timing.”

“How did you even find us?” George asked, his tone clipped.

“Alex,” Y/n panted, shooting Max a look. “He saw you dragging Max into this alley and told me to come save his life before you did something stupid.”

Max snorted despite himself, but Y/n quickly rounded on him. “You—go. Let me talk to him.”

Max frowned, clearly reluctant. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Max. Go,” she insisted, her eyes darting between him and George.

After a tense moment, Max exhaled sharply and stepped back. “Fine. But I’m not going far.”

George’s jaw was tight as he stared down at Y/n, the tension in his posture palpable. He hadn’t moved since Max left, his silence heavier than any shouting match they’d ever had.

“George,” Y/n started softly, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry for avoiding you. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” George snapped, his tone clipped but not loud. He wasn’t angry enough to yell anymore, but his voice was laced with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me, Y/n? I thought we shared everything.”

She flinched at the edge in his voice. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he repeated incredulously, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a near whisper, raw with emotion. “You could never disappoint me. But lying to me for over a year? Keeping this from me? That’s not like you.”

Her chest tightened, and tears pricked her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, George. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. You’ve made it so clear how you feel about me dating other drivers. I didn’t want you to—”

“To what? Disown you? Hate you?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re my sister, Y/n. Nothing, nothing, could make me hate you.”

Y/n bit her lip, the weight of his words cracking through her defenses. “I was afraid,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “Afraid of how you’d react, afraid you wouldn’t approve. Max… he just…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

George raised an eyebrow, his arms crossing over his chest. “He just what?”

“He grew on me, okay?” she blurted, throwing her hands in the air. “Like a fungus! He’s annoying and stubborn and so full of himself sometimes, but he’s also… sweet and caring and—”

“Fungus? Seriously?” George interrupted, giving her an exasperated look.

“Don’t make fun of me right now!” she snapped, glaring at him through her tears. “This is hard enough as it is.”

George sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, fine. Fungus. Go on.”

She hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Before I knew it, I was in love with him. And I was terrified of what you’d say, of how you’d look at me. I didn’t want to lose you, George. You’re my big brother. I need you.”

His expression softened slightly, but the hurt in his eyes remained. “You never had to worry about losing me, Y/n. But you’ve got to understand how blindsided I feel right now. You’ve been lying to me for a year. A whole year. That’s a long time to keep something this big from me.”

She nodded, her tears spilling over. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I couldn’t keep hiding it. I love him, George. I love this baby. They’re my family now, but I don’t want to lose you in the process. Please don’t make me choose.”

George’s gaze dropped to her stomach, where her hand rested protectively. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his defenses cracking. “You’re really having a baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. You’re going to be an uncle.”

The words seemed to hit him like a freight train. His eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, his anger gave way to something softer—something vulnerable. “An uncle,” he repeated, as if trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yeah,” she said again, a small smile breaking through her tears. “And judging by that face, you’re already a mess about it.”

George blinked rapidly, as though trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “I’m not a mess,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat.

“Oh, please,” Y/n teased, stepping closer. “You’re totally about to cry. Look at you. Mr. Stoic is cracking.”

“I am not,” he insisted, though his voice wavered.

Y/n let out a watery laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “You’re going to be such a softie with this kid. I can already see it—Uncle George, buying them whatever they want, teaching them how to drive a go-kart.”

He shook his head, finally letting out a small laugh despite himself. “Don’t push your luck.”

She smiled up at him, her tears drying as the tension between them eased. “I mean it, George. You’re going to be an amazing uncle.”

George looked at her for a long moment, his emotions written all over his face. Finally, he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” he murmured against her hair. “I just… I didn’t know what to do. But I’m here now. For you, for the baby—for all of it. I promise.”

Y/n clung to him, her own tears returning but this time from relief. “Thank you,” she whispered.

As they pulled back, George’s eyes flicked to her stomach again, a small, hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “An uncle,” he said again, softer this time.

“Yep,” Y/n said, grinning. “And I fully expect you to cry when you meet them.”

He rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. “Not a chance.”

“We’ll see,” she teased, poking his shoulder.

George held Y/n in a tight embrace, his protective big-brother instincts still warring with the softer emotions breaking through. As he finally pulled back, his eyes flickered with something sharper. He crossed his arms and glanced toward the direction Max had left.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, his tone firm, “I might have forgiven you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.”

Y/n groaned softly, already dreading where this was going. “George, come on—”

“No,” George cut her off, raising a hand. “You lied to me, yes, but Max went behind my back for a year. A year, Y/n! And then he let this whole thing explode in the most dramatic way possible.”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Y/n muttered, cheeks flushing.

George scoffed. “Planned or not, he’s got a lot to answer for. I’m willing to let go of our public feud for your sake but that doesn’t mean Max gets off easy. He needs to prove himself.”

“Prove himself?” she echoed, exasperated. “George, what does that even mean?”

“It means,” George said, his expression deadly serious, “that he needs to show me he’s good enough for you. And he’d better get down on one knee while he’s at it.”

Y/n’s face turned scarlet. “Oh my God, George. Stop.”

“Nope,” George said stubbornly, his tone matter-of-fact. “This is my right as your older brother after the shit you two pulled. You don’t get to say anything about it. I’m exercising my privileges.”

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “I can’t believe this. I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

George smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Good. That’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel after pulling something like this.”

“You’re impossible,” she mumbled, but there was no real venom in her voice.

“And you’re stuck with me,” he shot back, his grin softening into something more affectionate.

Despite her embarrassment, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, nudging him lightly. “Fine. But can we at least agree that you’ll keep this lecture to just me and Max? No ambushing us at family dinner or something?”

“No promises,” George teased, but his smile made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious.

The next morning Max stood in front of the hotel, staring at the text from George for what felt like the hundredth time. “Meet me at my hotel for coffee. 10 AM. We need to talk.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if this was going to be another thinly veiled trap or a genuine olive branch. After yesterday’s confrontation, he wasn’t holding his breath. But for Y/n’s sake, he’d go through whatever hoops George wanted him to.

He took a deep breath and walked into the lobby, spotting George sitting at a quiet corner table. Two mugs of coffee sat in front of him, steam still rising from the cups. George’s posture was straight, his face set in an unreadable expression. Max approached cautiously, offering a small nod as he slid into the chair across from him.

“Morning,” George said, his tone neutral but clipped.

“Morning,” Max replied, equally measured.

“Thanks for coming,” George said as Max slid into the seat across from him.

“I figured I didn’t have much of a choice,” Max replied lightly, though his voice held no hostility.

George gave a small smile, almost amused, but it faded quickly. “Look, I wanted to say… about yesterday. I didn’t handle things well. I was angry, and I let it get the better of me. But that doesn’t mean I regret defending my sister.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them almost tangible. George was the first to break it, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. “I thought it was time we had a proper conversation, away from the cameras, away from everyone else.”

Max nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

George tapped his fingers against the table, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Max’s. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m okay with everything that’s happened. I’m not. But I need to understand… What are you doing, Max? What are your intentions with my sister?”

Max’s jaw tightened. He’d expected this question, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer. Still, he owed George the truth. “I love her,” he said firmly, meeting George’s gaze. “I have for a long time. She’s… she’s everything to me. And now, with the baby, it’s not just about love—it’s about building a life together, a family. I want to give her everything she deserves.”

George’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still unreadable. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you come to me? Why keep it a secret for over a year? You knew how I’d feel about it, didn’t you?”

Max exhaled, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I did. I knew you wouldn’t approve, and I didn’t want to put her in a position where she’d have to choose between us. I didn’t handle it right—hiding it wasn’t fair to you. For that, I’m sorry.”

George studied him for a long moment, his fingers still tapping against the table. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Do you intend to marry her?”

Max didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I’ve already started looking at rings.”

That admission seemed to catch George off guard, his eyebrows raising slightly. He looked away for a moment, his gaze fixed on the untouched coffee in front of him. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I won’t lie, Max. This is going to take me some time to process. I can’t say I’m thrilled about it, but… for her—and for the baby—I’m willing to put our differences aside. We can be cordial. But don’t mistake that for approval. You’ve got a long way to go before you earn that.”

Max nodded, his expression serious. “I understand. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m worthy of her.”

George leaned forward again, his voice hardening. “One more thing. If you ever hurt her—if you ever make her regret this—I won’t hesitate to make you pay. I don’t care if you’re a four-time world champion or the King of the Netherlands. I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Max’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “If I ever do anything to hurt her, I’ll come to you myself and let you deal with me.”

That seemed to satisfy George, who leaned back again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

There was a moment of silence before George let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “God, I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle.”

Max chuckled softly. “You’ll be a great uncle. The kid’s already lucky to have you.”

George shook his head, laughing lightly. “Don’t butter me up, Verstappen. It’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

Max smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

George’s expression turned serious again. “I’m giving you a chance here, Max. Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t,” Max said, his voice steady. “I promise.”

“Also,” Max began, his tone more subdued, “I want to apologize for some of the things I’ve said about you in the media.”

George’s eyes snapped up to meet his, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.

“I shouldn’t have insulted your driving the way I did,” Max continued. “I was frustrated, angry… you know how it gets out there sometimes. But that doesn’t make it okay. You’re a talented driver, and I should’ve respected that, even if we were at odds.”

George nodded slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. “I appreciate that,” he said quietly. “And… I owe you an apology too.”

Max tilted his head, waiting.

“I shouldn’t have called you dangerous,” George admitted, his voice a little heavier with guilt. “That was crossing a line, and it wasn’t fair. I let my emotions get the better of me after… well, after what happened in the steward’s room. I shouldn’t have let it get so personal.”

Max leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he processed George’s words. After a beat, he gave a small, understanding nod. “We were both running high on adrenaline and emotions. It happens. But if you’re willing to move past it, so am I.”

George offered a faint smile, one that looked genuine despite the lingering awkwardness. “Yeah, I think it’s about time we put it behind us. For Y/n’s sake, if nothing else.”

“For Y/n,” Max echoed with a small smile of his own.

They both extended their hands almost at the same time. Their handshake was firm, a silent agreement that they were both ready to turn the page.

As they stood to leave, George clapped Max on the back, his expression softening. “For what it’s worth, Max… I hope you prove me wrong.”

“I will,” Max replied confidently. “For her.”

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Plot twist of the century: Baby Verstappen-Russell loading… 🍼❤️

Comments:

georgerussell63: I’m so excited to be an uncle!! 🥹❤️

y/n_russell: I just know you're going to be the best uncle ever Georgie ❤️ user: Hold up. George Russell is actually HAPPY about this?! What parallel universe are we in?! user: George in the comments acting all sweet now… Sir, we SAW you death-staring Max at the anthem. Don’t think we forgot 💀

user: SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP. THE DRAMA. THE PLOT. THE ABSOLUTE CHAOS.

user: Y’all laughed at me when I said this was real. NOW WHO’S LAUGHING?!

user: I would like to personally APOLOGIZE to you. I thought you were joking about this, but clearly, you knew what you were doing. user: I need to apologize too for saying this wasn’t real. I genuinely thought you were being delusional. user: And THIS is why we don’t call people delusional, y’all!! Everyone owes her an apology immediately.

user: This baby just united two bloodlines like it’s Game of Thrones or something.

lewishamilton: Congratulations, Y/n and Max! Wishing you all the best on this exciting journey 🙌

y/n_russell: Thank you Lew 🥹

user: MAX VERSTAPPEN AND GEORGE RUSSELL AS FAMILY?!

user: The Verstappen-Russell feud will NEVER die. Even the baby can’t fix this 💀

user: I cannot BELIEVE the Verstappen-Russell baby is real. We live in the wildest timeline.

user: This baby has been conceived in a PR warzone. Their future memoir is gonna slap.

user: George, make Max get on one knee IMMEDIATELY. We are NOT doing this out of order!!

user: The way George probably has an Excel sheet for his new uncle duties… God bless this baby.

landonorris: I CALL GODFATHER. EVERYONE ELSE CAN BACK OFF.

charles_leclerc: Sorry, Lando, but I already submitted my application. Try again. oscarpiastri: Pretty sure I saved Max’s life this week. I should automatically win godfather. user: CHARLES AND LANDO FIGHTING OVER GODFATHER RIGHTS HAS ME ON THE FLOOR.

user: Y/n is so gorgeous, it’s unfair. Like, she’s PREGNANT, and she looks like THAT?!

user: I genuinely thought the Verstappen-Russell feud couldn’t get crazier, but then THIS happened.

user: Imagine being this baby and knowing your dad and uncle almost threw hands in the paddock over you. Icon.

carmenmmundt: So, so happy for you both!!! Baby Verstappen-Russell is already so loved. Can’t wait to spoil them.

y/n_russell: Carmen 😭❤️ Thank you! You and the girls have been the absolute best.

maxverstappen1: My love, you are my everything ❤️ I can’t wait to do this with you.

y/n_russell: I love you so much, Maxie 🥹❤️ georgerussell63: Okay, enough. Keep it PG. user: GEORGE SHUTTING IT DOWN IMMEDIATELY LMAO. user: George really said, “Not on my watch.”

user: The way Y/n just casually dropped this and logged off like the internet wasn’t gonna explode. Queen behavior.

user: welcome to the world baby Verstappen-Russell ❤️

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @96mcobo @grussellsprout @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz

@henna006 @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @formulaal @sleutherclaw

@anilovessadbooks @mangotaitai @vtryy @finn-dot-com @sarahsobsession

@widow-cevans @emilly165533 @tremendousstarlighttragedy

@formula1fordisaster @5sospenguinqueen @ellelabelle @mastermindbaby @sturmatt @quinquinquincy @raizelchrysanderoctavius @mysteriouslydecaffeinatedfox @czennieszn @inthefairygrove @l3thal-l0lita @bravo-delta-eccho

[animamii]

Fuck Yo Man! | Toji Fushiguro

"see imma killer, but i got feelins',

i catch you widdem i jus might kill him"

the origin story of lockedup!Toji and y/n; inspired by Fuck Yo Man by King Von

✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧

Toji's jaw was clenched tight, eyes narrowed as he eyed down some target he didn't give two shits about. It was just another job and he desperately needed money. Rent was definitely due. From a distance Toji watched the guy, some scruffy looking fella with dirty blonde hair, enter the liquor store. He knew how this game was played—watch, wait, strike. The moment presented itself when they slipped up, moving careless like they forgot they were at war. He could see the guy through the windows, walking through the aisles and grabbing a soda before he heads to the counter near the entrance. It was now or never.

Toji, dressed in a black hoodie over his usual fitted black tee, sauntered with that usual sag in his step, gun clutched inside the band of his sweats. His eyes dart back and forth as he pulls up his hood, cautious for any witnesses or passersby. At this time of day, the streets were empty. The bell above the liquor store’s door jingled softly as Toji stepped inside, shoulders squared, gaze sharp. Dim fluorescent lighting made the store look hazy, with the stale scent of cheap booze and cigarette smoke filling the air. The cashier, a younger guy with tired eyes, barely looked up from his phone.

The blonde guy was at the counter now, pulling crumpled bills from his pocket. Toji had done this a thousand times before; fast, clean, no loose ends. His grip tightened around the handle of his piece, still tucked into his waistband. He took one step closer—then everything went to hell.

The guy turned at the last second, eyes widening in recognition, and Toji knew—he knew. Before Toji could even pull the trigger, the blonde swung first. The soda bottle in his hand shattered against Toji’s temple, sending shards of glass and sticky liquid dripping down his face.

Toji barely flinched.

With a grunt, he grabbed the guy by his collar and slammed him into the counter. The cashier yelled, diving under the register as Toji yanked his gun free and pressed it against the guy’s ribs at an angle.

"Stupid move," Toji muttered, more annoyed than in pain.

The guy’s breath hitched, his hands trembling and eyes blown wide with fear. Toji had done enough jobs to know when someone was about to beg. But he had no patience for it.

He pulled the trigger; the muffled pop of the silencer was the only sound before the blonde crumpled to the floor. The moment stretched, heavy, thick with something unspoken. Then... Sirens.

"Shit."

Toji turned on his heel, feet already moving before his brain fully caught up. He burst out of the liquor store and onto the street, his heart slamming against his chest. The flashing red and blue glow of patrol cars lit up in the distance, their engines roaring closer. His rushed jog had now turned into a full sprint, breaking his neck to look back every few seconds to see just how close the cops were to being on his ass.

"God, forgive me. I know I'm wrong, but please, get my ass out of this situation..." Was all he could think.

His breath came in short, sharp bursts, forehead damp with sweat as he ducked into an alleyway, vaulting over a trash bin. The sirens wailed louder. His legs burned. He knew this part—run until you can’t, then run some more. But even Toji knew he couldn’t outrun the entire city. Jumping over a metal fence with practiced ease, he went back to his rushed jog. Chest heavily rising and falling with each pant of a breath, he tried to find somewhere to duck off to.

That’s when he saw her.

A girl. Standing just outside a rusted apartment door, watching him with something eerily calm in her eyes. For a split second, neither of them moved. Then she did the unthinkable. She lifted a hand. Beckoned.

"Boy, come on."

Toji hesitated. Just for a moment. Then he was moving, slipping past her and into the dimly lit apartment. She shut the door behind him, sealing him away from the chaotic mess that he had created outside. He was breathing heavily, dripping with sweat and his mind racing as he looked at the floor. When he looked up, she was staring him down, arms crossed. She looked at him in silence, studying his face for a second.

"Do you still got your pole?"

Toji glanced at the gun in his grip, then back at her. A slow, amused half smile curled on his lips.

"You already know."

The apartment was small, warm white lighting coming from one of those tall lamps that are always stationed in a corner. The faint scent of something floral lingered in the air—maybe perfume, maybe detergent. It didn’t matter. Toji wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on her. The girl stood a few feet away, arms crossed with her head tilted slightly as she looked him over. Her expression was unreadable, but she wasn’t panicking. No fear in her eyes. That alone was enough to make Toji wary.

"You gonna keep standing there bleeding on my floor, or you gonna sit your ass down?"

Toji exhaled, finally registering the sharp sting on his temple where the bottle had cracked against him. He reached up, fingers coming away sticky with half-dried blood and soda. Half of his face was covered in blood, mixing with the sweat that made his hair cling to his forehead.

"Mmcht," he muttered, finally pushing himself off the wall and walking further into the room, gun still loosely gripped in his hand. She didn’t flinch, just nodded toward the couch.

"First aid kit’s under the sink," she said casually, as if she hadn’t just pulled a total stranger off the street and let him into her home.

Toji dropped onto the couch with a grunt, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, leaving behind exhaustion and the faint buzz of leftover tension. He let his head fall back against the cushions, chest still rising and falling from the chase.

"You do this often?" he finally asked, cracking an eye open to look at her. That's when he finally took in every detail. She adorned a cut wife beater tank top, snug against her body. Toji noticed she wasn't wearing a bra either, her nipples softly protruding through the textured white fabric. He also noticed how snug the printed boxer shorts she wore were, showing off the cute shape of her booty. A gold anklet was wrapped around her left foot, and she was barefoot.

"Do what?" she replied, grabbing the kit from under the sink.

"Pick up bloody strangers off the street."

She snorted. "Only the interesting ones."

Toji huffed a quiet laugh, watching as she sat down on the coffee table in front of him, popping open the first aid kit. He could have done it himself—he wasn’t new to patching up wounds—but he let her take over, watching her carefully as she dabbed at the cut on his forehead with an alcohol pad. It immediately stung, Toji hissing and instinctively jerking back.

"Oh, don’t be a baby," she muttered, gripping his chin and forcing him still.

Bold. He liked that.

"You don’t even know what I did out there," he said, watching her through half-lidded eyes. Toji started to soak even more details about her, the way her hair fell. The feeling of her acrylic nails as they propped his chin up to look at her. The way her lips were slightly parted as she focused on cleaning up his wound. The little things.

She didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate. "Don’t need to."

That made him pause. His whole life, people only did things for him out of fear, out of money, out of necessity. But she? She had nothing to gain. No reason to help him. And yet, here she was. Quite honestly Toji was confused, she must've had a few screws loose to have let a bleeding man who was running from the cops into her home.

"You crazy or somethin’?"

She smiled, a soft puff of air leaving her lips, "Maybe."

Silence settled between them as she continued cleaning him up, her fingers brushing against his skin, surprisingly gentle despite the sharpness in her gaze. Toji wasn’t used to softness. Not in the life he lived, not in the world he knew. And yet, here he was—sitting on a stranger’s couch, letting her clean him up like it was just another Tuesday. His body finally started to relax, the weight of the day's events sinking into his bones. The adrenaline had done its job, but now, it was slipping away, leaving behind something heavier. The warmth of the apartment felt foreign against his skin, too safe, too still.

"You got a name?" he asked, his voice rough and low.

She didn’t look up from her work, just nodding and carefully placing a bandage over the gash on his forehead. "I do."

Toji smirked at that, tilting his head slightly. "You gonna tell me?"

She finally met his gaze, lips curving just a little. "What do you need my name for, mystery man? You ain't plannin’ on stickin’ around, are you?"

Toji chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. She had a point. He didn’t even know why he was still here. He should’ve been plotting his next move, figuring out how to lay low for the next few days. And yet…

"I'd like to know the name of the person who saved my ass," he said simply. She seemed to consider that, eyes scanning his face as if deciding whether or not he was worth the answer.

"Y/N."

Toji let the name roll around in his head for a second. It suited her.

"Toji," he offered in return, looking directly into her eyes as if this were a regular meet cute. He started to think back to when he was running, praying to God. In his twisted head he started to think, this is an angel sent from God himself.

"Well, Toji, you should wash your hands of any residue or whatever then get some rest. I’d say you’re safe for now, but who knows how long that’ll last." Getting up from the coffee table, she goes to throw away the soiled cotton pads.

Toji snorts, "You always this welcoming?"

"Only when fate drops a half-dead man at my doorstep," she smiles, washing her hands in the kitchen sink, "Bathroom is down that hall to the left."

Nodding, Toji finally gets up from the couch, his body now aching from the lack of adrenaline and strain from every fucking thing. Turning on the bathroom light, he takes in his surroundings. Girly face washes and makeup. Loose hair ties and bobby pins. A gold nameplate of yours written in cursive font. Cute. His large, calloused hand pumps the foam soap, peach bellini. He continues to look around your bathroom as he lathers his hands.

That's when he starts to notice... little things. Things that didn’t quite add up.

Toji had been in plenty of women’s places before, enough to know the usual setup—perfume on the counter, a few hair products, maybe a scented candle or two. But this? This was different. The towel on the rack was damp, like it had just been used. The toothbrush in the holder wasn’t alone—there was another one. Slightly worn down, like it had been used regularly. His eyes flicked to the razor in the shower, the one next to the pink one. A man’s razor.

His jaw tightened. She lived with someone.

Toji stared at himself in the mirror, water still running, hands resting on the edges of the sink. His reflection looked like hell—hair all disheveled, bruises forming on his cheek bone where the bottle had hit him, exhaustion settling in his eyes. But his mind wasn’t on himself anymore. It was on her.

Why the hell had she helped him? Was she just reckless, or was there something more? With a slow exhale, he turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel, drying his hands. He didn’t like walking into a situation blind. He especially didn’t like walking into someone else’s mess.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he caught sight of her in the kitchen, tying her hair up as she rummaged through the fridge. The overhead light cast a warm glow on her skin, and for a split second, she looked… normal. Like this was just another night in her home.

But Toji knew better.

"You live alone?" His voice came out casual, too casual.

Glancing at him over her shoulder, the faintest smirk tugs at her lips. "Why? You worried?"

Toji didn’t answer. Just leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

She pulled out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap before taking a slow sip. Her eyes stayed on him the entire time, like she knew exactly what he’d been thinking about in that bathroom.

"Nah," she finally said, licking a drop of water off her lip. "I don’t."

Toji’s grip on his forearm tightened.

"You expecting them back tonight?" His voice was level, but it lingered with an underlying cautiousness and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

She tilted her head, watching him. Measuring. "No," she said after a beat, placing the bottle on the counter. "Not tonight." Toji studied her, the way she held herself, the way she wasn’t scrambling to explain or reassure. She wasn’t afraid. Not of him. Not of whatever situation she had going on.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Toji’s lips, something dark and amused settling in his gaze. "You always this reckless, or just gotta thing for strays?"

Leaning against the counter, she crossed her arms over her chest, still unfazed. "Maybe I just like a little chaos."

Toji huffed out a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his sweat damped hair. Yeah, she was crazy. Or stupid. Maybe both. But there was something about her, something that kept him from walking right out that door. His fingers absentmindedly traced over the grip of his gun before slipping it back into his waistband. Eyes flickering to her again, watching the way she swayed slightly on her feet, relaxed. Comfortable.

Like she wasn’t standing in front of a killer. Like she wasn’t fully aware of what she’d just let into her home.

"You should be more careful," he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he stepped closer, his presence taking up more space in the tiny kitchen.

She didn’t move, didn’t shrink away. Just held his gaze with that same, unreadable expression. "You gonna be the one to teach me a lesson?"

Toji’s smirk widened, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. "I don’t think you’d survive that, sweetheart."

Something flashed in her eyes—challenge, maybe amusement. "You’d be surprised what I can handle."

Toji wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion settling into his bones, some leftover adrenaline still thrumming through his veins, or just the sheer absurdity of the situation. But he found himself shaking his head with a smirk, exhaling a slow breath.

y/n moved with ease, walking past him to grab something from a drawer. Toji took the opportunity to let his eyes trail over her again, memorizing little things he hadn’t noticed before. The way her stack of gold necklaces caught the dim light, the curve of her waist, the slow, deliberate way she moved—like she had nothing to fear. Like she knew exactly who she was letting into her space.

The apartment was small, but cozy in a way that felt lived in. Not just a space, but a home. It was a foreign concept to Toji, who was used to cheap motels, dingy safe houses, and places he never intended to stay in for long. But this place—it smelled like vanilla and a hint of tobacco, had blankets thrown haphazardly over the couch, a mug half-filled with cold tea on the counter. It had warmth. A thing he didn’t deserve yet found himself sinking into.

"You wanna tell me why you were out there bleeding all over the damn sidewalk?" she asked, not looking up as she pulled out a joint and a pack of cigarettes. Flicking open the carton's top, she sticks it out to offer him one.

Toji tilted his head, amused as his fingers fish for a cigarette out of the box. "You really wanna know, or you just making conversation?"

She popped the joint between her lips, using one hand to bring a pink patterned clipper lighter up to the tip to light it. The cherry of the joint started to glow a faint red as she inhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded as she studied him through the curl of smoke.

"You don’t gotta tell me," she said, finally exhaling, "but I figure if you’re hiding out here, I should at least know if I gotta start packing a bag."

Toji gave her a lopsided grin, shaking his head. "Ain’t got nothing to do with you, sweetheart. Just a job gone messy."

Her gaze flickered to the gun still tucked at his waist, her expression once again unreadable. "Messy how?"

Toji took his time lighting his cigarette, taking a slow drag before answering. "Client wanted someone gone. I made sure they were gone." He exhaled the smoke, watching her reaction. "Problem is, someone else was watching. Cops got there quicker than expected."

She simply hummed like he’d just told her the weather. "Unlucky."

Toji huffed a laugh, smoke coming out of his nose. "Yeah, somethin’ like that."

Silence settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable. Toji leaned back against the couch, letting the weight of the day press into his bones. His temple still throbbed from the broken bottle, but the bleeding had stopped. God the things he'd do for a perc right now.

"You ain’t scared?" he finally asked, wondering how a tiny girl like her could be so nonchalant with a six-foot-two criminal sitting in her living room.

She met his gaze, something slow and knowing in her eyes. "Of you?" She let the question hang for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah."

Toji exhaled another cloud of smoke, deep blue eyes watching her closely. "Why’s that?"

She tapped the joint's ashes into her heart shaped ashtray that sat on top of the coffee table, leaning forward in the seat perpendicular to the couch, elbow resting on her thigh. "Cause if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already."

Toji chuckled lowly, licking his lips. "You sure about that?"

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. "Yeah," she said simply.

He stared at her for a long moment, taking another slow drag of his cigarette. She was right, of course. If he had planned to kill her, he wouldn’t have wasted time talking. Wouldn’t have let her patch him up. But there was something about her.

Knocking him out of his thoughts, the wailing of sirens blares through the air. Bright white lights flashing through the curtains of the front windows. Both of them look towards the front door, silent. Guess it was the kind of situation that called for an all-night search.

"Well, looks like you're stuck here for the night."

Toji let out a slow exhale, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he glanced toward the window. The red and blue lights cut through the thin curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. He should’ve felt trapped, on edge. But instead, he found himself oddly calm.

"Shit luck," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair before taking another drag of his cigarette.

She didn’t look the least bit concerned as she took another slow pull from her joint, watching him through half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, well," she exhaled a stream of smoke, "guess that means you’ll be getting real comfortable."

Toji chuckled under his breath. "Seriously though, you got a few screws loose or just got a soft spot for trouble?"

The corner of her lip quirked up as she leaned back into the chair, joint snug between her two long acrylic nails. "Wouldn’t call it soft. Just got good instincts."

Toji hummed, tilting his head. "That so?" His cigarette sat tucked between his pink lips, and she could see the sharpness in his canines as he spoke.

"Mmhmm." She tapped her ashes into the ashtray again, her gaze steady. "And my instincts tell me you’re not as reckless as you act."

That caught Toji’s attention. His smirk faltered just slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied her. Most people assumed he was all brawn, no thought behind his actions. But her? She saw something else.

"That what you think?" he mused.

She nodded. "You wouldn't have made it this far otherwise."

Toji let her words sit between them, a strange mix of amusement and curiosity stirring in his gut. She wasn’t wrong. He’d survived this long because he was careful, calculated—even when things went south. But what did that mean for right now? He should’ve been looking for an exit, planning his next move. But instead, he was still here. In her space. Letting the sirens wail outside without so much as a flinch.

She stubbed out what was left of her joint and stood, stretching her arms over her head before giving him a lazy glance. "Couch pulls out into a bed," she said. "Sheets are in the closet. I’d offer you my bed, but I don’t know you like that."

Toji let out a low chuckle. "Yeah? And yet, you let me in your house."

She shrugged, turning toward the hallway. "Like I said—good instincts."

Toji watched her disappear into the dimly lit hall, the scent of smoke and vanilla lingering in the air behind her. He exhaled, leaning his head back against the couch.

Yeah. He was stuck here for the night. And maybe… he didn’t mind.

✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧

omgeezyyyy I had so many different ways I wanted lockedup!Toji and y/n to meet I can't choose!! But I fckin love this song and I'm a sucker for sampling a song for a fic. I miiight write other versions of y/n meeting Toji but I just hadz to write this!!

alsoooo I wanna make this a multipart this is just part oneeee

tags ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy @yourname-exee

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

The Making Of An Heir

Short one off for now 😬

The games were disappointing, you could tell that from your husbands disposition, how angry he was when he came home, the way he threw vases across the room, shattering the pottery and causing red wine to spill up the walls.

His anger aroused you, you did not want to admit it but it did, watching Geta destroy pottery and shout at the senators stirred something inside of you, making you long for your emperor, to please him in a way only you knew that you could, knowing that you could temper your husband and your Emperors wrath made you feel proud and important.

Originally you had been offered to both of them, to see which one would want you as a wife. Geta was enthusiastic, your porcelain skin and delicate looking nature made him enamoured with you, the way his eyes raked lustfully over your skin knew that he wanted you, even fight for you. Caracalla did not seem interested, only bothering with his pet monkey and ignoring you, he had his own hoard of lovers to satisfy him anyway, what was one lone woman to a harem of people ready and waiting for him.

Geta was the one you wanted anyway, you had seen him before at many games and admired his royal visage, the proud way he carried himself, the look of power in his eyes as he decided the fate of the gladiators stilled your heart. He was a man of power and a man that knew what he wanted,

The ceremony that consumated your marriage was short, just long enough to make it legal, Geta was not concerned about legalities, he just needed a wife and one that would obey him. And obey him you would, most nights he would come home from the war council angry, needing a subject to take his anger out on. Those nights it was you, he would come back and bend you over a desk, slamming into you with no regard for your wellbeing nor your pleasure, filling you with his seed and hoping for you to produce an heir for him.

The roughness did not bother you, in fact you enjoyed it most nights, though you longed for him to take you as a husband took a wife, eye contact and reverent kisses. You always believed it to be a fantasy, one that you would hold onto anyway.

One night the senators meeting was bad, you could hear the smashing of ceremonial plates and porcelain busts, Geta would not be in a fine mood tonight. You hurried away the maids that kept you company, though you did not mind his wrath upon yourself you hated it when he took it out on the maids, the delicate flowers they were, they did not deserve it.

Geta stormed into your shared room, pacing like a madman, muttering under his breath at how the senators were conspiring against him and his brother. You coaxed him over to the marital bed eventually and spoke softly onto his ear as he lay beside you. "The senators can't argue against you if you produce a son" Your voice was laced with lust and seduction, nibbling gently at his ear and kissing his neck, feeling the anger fade away from him.

Geta could never ignore you when you mentioned producing an Heir for him, that's all he desired for now, to breed you and get you pregnant, to produce a strong son from him.

Geta flipped you on your back and his eyes bore down at your with lust, his fingers finding their way to your wet folds for him, you never needed any encouragement but it made him chuckle this time, enjoying your wetness, placing his fingers in his mouth and savouring your taste.

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head throughout that exchange, you wanted to make a comment but your words were interrupted by a moan, your own moan as you felt Geta slide inside of you, stretching to fit him.

It was the first time Geta took you this way, staring down at you, drinking in your curvaceous body, in his mind he was cursing himself for never doing this before, this way he had every access to paw and grope at your beautiful skin beneath him, watching your tits bounce with every thrust he pounded into you.

Your moans began to grow louder, feeling his hand roughly upon your breast and the other thumbing your clit, your orgasm was not far away and you did not care who in the empire heard it as you cried out Geta's name in your pleasure. His own was only moments after, the gripping of your walls against him and the desperate cry of his name was enough to finish him off.

You could feel the soft kisses of his lips against your neck, his hand now gently stroking your stomach "I won't stop until it's a boy" Geta's teeth bit your neck aggressively, you knew in your heart he would carry on until he had a son, a feat you would agree to easily anyway, you would do anything for him.

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐦

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭 𝐱 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw : MDNI - sub Lestat, top male reader, nsfw, hate fucking, hate sex, love hate relationship, toxic relationship, masochist, sadist tendencies, monsterfucker, lycanthrope, primal play, blood play, asphyxiation, dacryphilia, rearranging his guts, mentions of breeding, knotting, tummy bulge, overstimulation, creampie, size diff, Lestat being a brat, you're so sick of his shit, lil wolfy delulu at the end, not proof-read.

Thinking about how tired you are of this prestigious and pampered vampire always getting the best of you. He's a pompous fuck in your eyes, he doesn't care about anyone but himself and whatever he claims his. A hypocrite, a blonde narcissist, and a huge pain in your ass.

He always gets off easy, yet your blood boils around him. How he toys with your feelings, your thoughts, your body. You can't help but to get mad, to let anger fuel you. To let that hatred that seeped into your bones out and onto him. You aren't his plaything, he's yours.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Ah! Mmh—merde! You are...so—so brutal when you're upset!~" Back now arched off the wall, Lestats' body quivered and shook with each grounding thrust of your hips slamming up into him, your girth striking against his prostate with such precision that his eyes began to roll back. His drool soaked lips let slip out various French curses while your nails dug into his small and slimmed waist.

You didn't reply, not wanting to feed into his game of words while your fingers pressed bruising pressure onto his skin, nails making crescent shapes and tearing through the flesh of his waist. You wanted him to feel pain, wanted him to feel your rage in whatever way you could, even if it meant slamming him into a wall and choking him halfway to unconsciousness — even though you knew full well how he got off to such treatment.

"My chiot doux, you—bring me such joy when you come to me like this, do you — ah!~ Do you know that?~" He was egging you in, watching the threatening glow of your eyes and the sneer on your lips. He could hear your heart pounding within your chest like a war drum, your body burning as hot as a furnace as you grounded your hips into the vampire. It was only then that you'd gotten tired of his incessant yapping.

"Shut up Lestat! You know the shit...you pulled! Fucking me over time...and time...again!" You knew full well that there would be blackened bruises to adorn your groin tomorrow, but that was the least of your concerns. Hearing the wet squelches of each thrust and the powerful slaps of skin hitting skin left the others thighs and ass taunt.

"And yet!" He cried out, bloody tears starting to flow down the sides of his face as your thrust only got harsher, his insides clenching around your cock as it throbbed and rammed into all the spots he couldn't reach with his own fingers. "You come to me! Angry!~ So much anger that you don't know what to do with it—ah! Ah, ah!~"

Pulling your hips back to where you were just barely on the brink of pulling completely out, you slammed straight into him with every word that came out of your mouth. Your hand went up to his throat, body practically vibrating as you could feel the heat roll off of your skin in waves. "Fuck—you—Lestat!"

A choked noise left his body as his own saliva slid down his chin and throat, but even while in such a compromised and humiliating position, he couldn't help but to be spiteful one last time. "It seem—you're already doing the fucking, oui?~"

All you could see was red, the pain that flared throughout your body was completely overshadowed by the overwhelming hatred you felt for the vampire. You'd barely noticed that he'd come twice over, decorating both your stomachs as you pressed closer against his body.

Your bones broke with horrific snaps and fused together in new placements as your muscles throbbed and flexed. Your human flesh seemed to peel off as fur seemed to burst through, causing you to let out a deep growl before using your other hand to rip off the wet and bloodied pieces of skin. Whatever clothes you had left on your body were no more, having shredded and fallen to the floor without much care.

The burning, lava-like feeling of your transformation was nothing in comparison to the hot rage you had for the blonde in front of you.

You could hear him blabber on about the real you finally making an appearance, his plush insides practically milking your now much larger girth as your flared tip brushed far past his prostate.

Your body now looked over his in comparison, his small body dwarfed in comparison to your own. Your clawed hands engulfed his waist entirely, all while your bloodied snout buried itself against the crook of his neck. Taking in his scent, the one you hated so much, the one you kept coming back to like a drug — now flared in your senses.

"Mon chiot chéri," he started, only to cry out as your teeth sunk into his suppel flesh. Your maw practically covered the entirety of his shoulder as throat, biting down hard enough that he bled heavily in that moment, but his response was a gutteral moan that made him feel as though he was in the most heavenly experience of his immortal life. His hands reached up to grip upon your still slick and blood soaked fur before panting out. "—love me the only way...you know how~"

Lestats' eyes rolled back into his skull as you used him for your own personal pleasure, holding him as you would a simple toy. He was being held up only by your red leaking cock that bumped into his tummy with every thrust of your hips. He could just barely hear the wagging of your tail as it swept the air so harshly.

You watched in morbid fascination as his stomach seemed to bulge, covered in his own spend as you leaned down and let your tongue drag up his body. The taste of him made your hips rut that much faster, your ears twitching and flicking with every filthy noise that came from him. A low growl hovered within your chest as you lapped up his throat and chin, only to find your tongue exploring his mouth.

He was salivating, uncaring of how fucked he looked under you or how rough you were with his body. You wouldn't stop until you were satisfied, he knew all too well how nights like this ended.

It was only then that he gasped on your tongue that tried to dip into his throat, feeling your bulbous knot proceed to slap against his ass. He knew that his ass would be stretched to its limits, but you didn't care about how he felt.

"Wait—wait!~ Mon chiot—chéri, it will not fit!~" His slurred and half audible whines and pleas went deaf to your ears and only made your cock throb at the idea of filling up your Lestat.

His back continued to arch in the air as his head hung back, his slick hole now being stretched carelessly around your swollen knot that pressed further and further until he'd sucked you in completely. You two were now bound to the base of your cock, and you were yet to be done with him, even as he felt your warmth spilling out into him.

At this point in time,you were practically humping him, holding him up and watching his stomach bulge just that much more. His body shaking and his voice breaking as he tried to claw at your furry hands. Bloody tears continued to run down his face as he babbled on, though you licked them away with your tongue leaving a trail of your saliva and marking him with your scent.

Even as you seemed to hate him, your wolf loved to see him pierced on your cock like this, begging for a break as his body was being handled in such a way. He had no control, and you'd make sure the situation stayed as such until you felt better.

You could feel your cum dripping out from him, leading to an almost territorial growl while leaning over his body, now giving him the pleasantry of having his body on the bed rather than hovering in the air with your hands holding his middle.

He was your bitch to breed tonight. Watching him seem so broken down and helpless made your tail wag even more as you flipped his body, all while keeping him on your knot. The obscene noise he made only made you want him more, to keep him like this even with the risk of morning hours away. Your voice came in a broken growl that somehow made its way into his static filled brain. "My LeStat~"

"Mon cher, I can't— I can't...take anymore...I am full, I can't possibly take much else~" Lines blurred between whether was teasing or simply begging, but you couldn't care less.

You cared more about how much you could pump into him before he looked pregnant with your pups. Wouldn't that be a sight to behold.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

[inknopewetrust]

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰—𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 [𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 3.3k]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 “𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲”, 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 (𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐦).

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

You had always known Scott Miller to be a vanilla kind of man… whatever that truly implied.

The adventures of discovery were few and far between beyond the plank like missionary and the occasional couch sex if the motel even had a couch, so the back of his truck? Unheard of.

But when the clock struck one and he sped out of the parking lot in confidence that everyone had averted their eyes in sleep, you sensed something was different—or awakening—within him. The Storm Par truck found itself tucked into an alcove surrounded by trees on every side and the lights cut as quick as it was put into park.

You turned your head to look at him yet he was halfway out the door and all you could spur was, that was fast.

And perhaps it had been awhile since you’d been alone together in this capacity. The summers raged longer and with it the storms more frequent and severe, therefore it made your priority of getting laid less important than helping the people who no longer had a bed.

“Scott—“ you called out to him, unbuckling yourself as he slammed the door and opened the back seat. His face was flustered, cheeks inflamed a pinkish red of strife and want.

“Get in the back,” he said sternly in reply.

You furrowed your brows, mouth slightly agape at his brash words. Scott was a fucking asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

He huffed at your inaction. A hand on the door, he put the other on the headrest on the back seat.

“Well?”

“Well what?” You asked. “You didn’t ask nicely.”

With Scott, you knew the boundaries he had. Everyone played a game around him that made their shoes crack the eggshells he littered in front of him. You hated it. He wasn’t perfect and by far, neither were you so why the fuck would you give into him so easily?

You imagined that was a reason he kept seeking you out again. Months of this, nothing more, and Scott returned time and time again to a grip he’d say your pussy had on his dick but you thought in honestly that you wanted him to fall in love with you—the glitter in your eyes as you teased him, each meeting between you growing longer and more personal.

And shit, if you haven’t daydreamed of what a serious version of the “thing” you had together was you’d be lying. One of Scott was handsome, but two in the long run? That boy would replace you in a heartbeat.

“Just get in the back,” he complained. “Please.”

You smiled sweetly at him. “Better.”

Scott shook his head and grabbed your hand as you fumbled yourself into the back seat. He wasted no time sliding into the seat next you, slamming his door closed again, and grasping your face with both of his hands.

His kiss was bruising. Heavy and holding, it was as though he was coming home from war, not a few weeks of chasing different storms. You held onto his wrists as he maneuvered you, head tilting the way he wanted it to as he kissed you over and over again and his lips glued themselves to yours in the dark.

Scott began to pull back, letting his teeth catch your bottom lip as he separated himself from you and breathed in deeply. He didn’t bother filling in the space with words before he returned his lips to yours and releasing his grip on you to move you freely.

You accepted the release on your face. You tipped your head backwards into the seat, swallowing the sounds of your throat before they could form actual words. Scott’s hands lingered down your body; squeezing and soothing the path to your thighs as he pushed your legs apart and glided you into his lap as seamlessly as he could in a truck like his.

Using the leverage the heigh above him gave, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and your fingers found his hair quickly. Scott’s hat had long gone from his head and the sweat of the borders heat was making itself known on the base of his neck.

Scott guided your hips to ground down onto him. Holding you still on him, he caressed your back and massaged his hands to your ass—the move pulling you further into him and the erection growing in his pants.

You were curious to grind your hips against him. Moving in a figure eight, you let his hands guide you in motions that fostered a growing wetness in your underwear as Scott’s tongue found purchase inside of your mouth. You hummed in content while the further motions of your hips and the pressure of his hands were driving you crazy.

The normal necessary preparation wouldn’t be needed if he kept it up. You’d be long a goner if Scott just simply took control and led the way for your bliss.

He removed his hands from your ass and slowly transitioned them to your hips. One of them broke free and rested in a position he’d never placed it in—at the bottom of your stomach. You didn’t stop kissing him or moving or even questioned his motives when he did so because you were just so damn occupied with the man like putty in your hands.

It could have been the buttons of your pants or to grasp the fabric between his palm but when it didn’t move, you began to wonder more than just what was going on beneath his pants. It was curious and concerning, stalling and breaking everything you had been doing as you pulled away from him.

“What?” You asked breathlessly.

Scott wet his lips, shaking his head absentmindedly yet you could see in the darkness that whatever was going through his mind didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Are you—“

Scott cut you off only to capture your lips again. He weaved a hand to the back of your head and grunted as you lifted slightly off his lap and back down. Tilting your head at an angle that suited him, he deepened the kiss, ravishing you in ways you can recall ever being kissed.

It was different. It was like a switch went off but while his hands groped at you and his tongue dominated yours, it was still… vanilla.

When his lips conveniently caught the edge of your mouth and not your lips, he trailed kisses down the column of your neck and felt at the fabric of your clothes.

“Scott,” you said with a huff. “Are we going to get off like two fucking teenagers or are you going to fuck me?"

His teeth grazed the side of your neck, pulling the skin in irritation at your command. He was the asshole, he did the ordering.

Scott moved his head back to look at you. You had a sheen in your eyes that told him what you wanted; silently pleading for him to get on with it and let you seek the pleasure you wanted but all he could really think of is a thought that popped into his head that morning.

He knew he was going to see you and ultimately the collision would end up with the two of you sweating like dogs somewhere because you just couldn’t stop yourselves from making up for lost time.

The time factor of it caused his mind to go on its own tangent. Sitting in the passenger seat of the truck made him think of his bland childhood and family and somehow, it landed to you—suddenly eclipsed with the idea of children and you.

You and children; you pregnant with his child; you full of only him.

And then he had to get his rocks off in a gas station bathroom because he couldn’t stop imagining what you’d look like growing his kid.

Scott shifted his hands to the front of your body, squeezing down on your breasts. They’d be double the size if you were pregnant.

Those thoughts brought him no shame.

But he didn’t answer you. He was in rapture sitting there and staring at you while your brows furrowed and buried in confusion.

“Scott?”

He squeezed again. Running a soothing palm over your tits in relief, his eyes flipped up to meet yours. You could feel his breath deepening on your face.

“Sc-“

“I want to fill you up.”

Your head tweaked in surprise.

“W-what?” You stuttered at him. He hadn’t let go of your breasts, just sat there with his hands on them. You’d never seen Scott entranced by you before.

“Let me finish in you,” he proposed seriously. You’d never not used a condom before, you’d never had this kind of conversation because he’d never been one to indicate that this situation was more than a “good time” or “stress relief.”

“You want to come in me?”

The hand on your stomach, the lingering feel of your tits.

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Well we’ve never…”

“I know,” he grumbled as though this entire conversation was killing the boner in his pants. He was still prodding at your ass so in your mind, whatever he was imagining wasn’t leading him to not fucking you.

“I don’t think I’m ready for a kid yet, Scott.”

“No,” he shook his head and finally moved his hands away from you to rest at your waist. “That’s not—no. You can take a pill or whatever but can you see it?”

The picture he paints is a vivid one.

And one you hadn’t thought to imagine with anyone you’d been with before.

“Baby,” he started, “I can’t fucking get it out of my head. You, all round and full of me. You fucking body would look…” he gripped at your waist. “And your tits… fuck me, sweetheart. You’d be the sexiest fucking thing on the planet I swear to god and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“S-“

“Haven’t you wanted to feel me? Really feel me? Not with any of that rubber bullshit to get in the way. How good I’d feel inside of you and how good you’d feel when I’d leak out of you.”

You let out the smallest gasp at his words—Scott had never been this blatant before. Condescending, rude, even, but not so willing to speak his mind beyond a standard porn-dictionary of lingo.

“Let’s try it, hm?” He hummed. His hands worked the bottom of your top, fingers grazing your skin. “One time and if you fuckin’ hate it, then I won’t bring it up again."

“I didn’t say I would hate it,” you helped him remove your top. “You just didn’t let me get any words out.”

Scott smiled in the slightest. A winning smirk forming on his face as his fingers worked the clasp of your bra efficiently. You slid the straps from your arms and tugged at the bottom of his shirt, Storm Par emblem patched to the right above his chest.

“I don’t mind it,” you clarified. In fact, you were more than enticed by the idea. You loved when he left his mark in different ways—a burn from his stubble between your thighs, a hickey or three in places your clothes wouldn’t expose on the camera.

What more was marking his territory in a hypothetical way?

You sat up on your knees on either side of him. Your head barely skimmed the roof of the truck and the logistics of how you’d do this in the vehicle weren’t important—it was the what. Looking into his eyes, you tilted your head to the side as he unbuttoned your bottoms.

“What if I want you to claim me?” You questioned. “Make me so fucking full of you that I can’t hold anyone else, only you.”

“No one else,” he warned.

Scott helped slide your bottoms and underwear down quickly.

“You wanna put a baby in me, huh?” You cooed at him. Naked in full, you took the charge of releasing him from his jeans and allowing him to help shimmy them down his legs. His cock laid heavy, perched tall and sloping towards his thigh.

You leaned forward, feet finding purchase on his thick thighs as he cupped your ass and groped further. You took him in one of your hands and began to pump him slowly. Too slowly in his own terms but the words kept tumbling from your lips. So wanton, needy.

“What if I want you to?” Biting on your lip, you teased his tip with your thumb. Swiping it over and gathering a bit of wetness he’d long released in excitement.

“Get me all full and big and round with your baby. How I’d be so goddamn horny all the time and wanting to fuck everywhere. And my tits,” you pushed yourself up a bit on your knees. The breasts he admired pert and alert against his bare chest. “With all that milk? And you could help me make them feel so so fucking good.”

You have him your best doe eyes.

“What do you say, honey?”

Scott move fingers to your cunt to gauge your readiness. You were dripping for him. Soaked to the point where all he had to do was swipe two fingers through your core and gather the wetness at the tips. He crudely brought them to your lips and you offered a silent plea. You sucked on them, tasting your spent.

“I’m gonna fuck you, baby, and when we’re done, your gonna want a fucking kid so badly that you’ll be begging me for one.”

You guided his dick to your entrance and sank down on him. Relishing the stretch and stuttering breath you released every inch of progress that he made inside. It was always so sweet, so perfect of a feeling that it made you want to make him love you forever so you’d never forget the feeling. An eternity of loving an unlovable fucker who knew how to hit all of your buttons in the most wonderful of ways.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped as he bottomed out and filled you to the brim. Scott grunted and his hold was bruising. He was incredibly enamored at the sentiment of you giving in to his vision that he couldn’t help but seek control now that he had you in the palm of his hand.

You get felt plush and smooth, different than what he was familiar with under the protection of a Trojan. Scott knew you sensed it too; the deeper hold each one held on the other and the way your jaw didn’t fully close at your gasps.

“You feel so good, baby,” he groaned. He helped lift your hips as you settled, pulling himself out of your warmth for the coolness of the car to hit the slick that now covered his length generously. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Gotta fuck me, Scott,” you closed your eyes as he pulled you back down and then again, up and down, up and down. The hairs on your head barely grazed the rooftop in his careful hands yet all you could feel was the need to let go. “You gotta fuckin’ give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He grunted with his teeth.

Averting to deep, harsh thrusts, Scott could only do as you please. The control was leaving him.

“Let me give it to you,” he spoke. “Let me give you a baby and you’ll be so drunk off me you won’t want another fucking cock in your life.”

Rutting in and out, his dick filled your pussy to the brim. Completely losing sight of what was right, left or center, you were far gone sooner than you thought.

“So tight for me,” Scott kept his verbal assurance going. “Oh, you fuckin’ feel that?”

Your legs quivered in strain. Muscles taught from sitting and working them intently stung hotly. You shook before an orgasm had even reached you—but you could feel it building.

“Yes,” you moaned into the air. “Shit.”

He admired the loss of your sensibility. Scott chuckled, growling in a way you hadn’t hear and didn’t think he could do. There was something so pornographic about him here; new and awakening like a part of him had been discovered after a shitty wet dream he garnered in his mind.

You have a high-pitched squeak as a particular thrust sent you reeling. It was becoming unrelenting. Over and over and over he pounded into you and it was starting to become numb with wait. Your slick was sent down your open legs, wetting the sides of where yours met the tops of his thighs and your feet had lost feeling a long time ago.

The windows of the car began to steam up like a movie. A handprint on the back window, it slid with friction every time you tried to readjust it.

He felt so good inside of you.

“S-sc-“ you couldn’t get his name out. The only sounds were wordless grunts and moans and nothing else.

“Hold on, baby,” he spat. He pumped hard and harder until the sound of skin slapping together and meeting in a drenched spot became all too loud. “Hold on, baby. You’re gonna wait for me, wait for me.”

You tried so hard. Legs shaking and nerves ready to burst, you could barely handle the way your hands trembled at the sensation. The utter relief of a strong finish looming ahead and yet, he wouldn’t let it happen until he’d come too.

But Scott was never far behind—you liked to believe it was your superpower.

“Not yet,” he grunted. “Don’t you fuckin’ come yet, sweetheart. We’re gonna do this together, yeah? Me and you—but fuck two of you would be fucking amazing baby.”

Not two of you to have sex with—two of you both to love and nurture.

“I-I’m gonna come, S-Scott, fuck me,” you barely choked out. “Come with me, please. Come on. Make me so full.”

And in a couple thrusts he spilled inside of you. You met him there at the precipice; towers crumbling around you as the shattered glass at your feet tingled in the absence of true feeling. Everything was a blur, one hot white light.

It was the best goddamn orgasm you’d ever had.

Your hands shook as much as your legs were. It was like a fucking exorcism took place and you were finding yourself again. Scott jutted his hips into you, burying his cock as far as he could go as the vice grip of your cunt swallowed every piece that he gave.

His head fell onto you chest. Hair stringy with sweat and the slick of beads that he met on your chest were more comforting than he thought they’d be. You twisted your fingers into his hair as he held onto you. Hands finding a more respectable spot around your waist and up your back, Scott hugged you tightly to him.

Even in the event of discovering a new kink, Scott’s mind kept that painting of a future locked in safety—away from the shit he did on a daily basis and away from you because every time it was brought up or found itself again in the bedroom or the tub or the floor or the couch, he was left wanting more.

The awkward trips down the Walgreens aisle and asking the workers to open the Plan B locked behind glass was too much.

He wanted to make it a reality. He wanted you to make him fall in love and down the line, maybe he’d have two of you to love in different ways.

Thanks so much for reading and as always, likes, but most importantly reblogs and comments keep writers writing. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to escape with me—enjoy!

[nanamineedstherapy]

Ooga Booga Battle Royale

F!Reader x Pre-Historic Neanderthal JJK daddies (Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Zenin Toji & Ryomen Sukuna)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies fighting over you? With grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication? Say less.

Trigger Warnings (May contain spoilers for the story): Fighting, Crack, Non-Graphic Violence, Maybe some death but not in a gruesome way-more in a comedy way.

You exist.

That is the problem.

In the grand, majestic, bacteria-infested wilderness, you—a Homo sapien woman—have committed the ultimate sin by having the audacity to be alive in the same vicinity as five of the most terrifying Neanderthal men to ever grunt their way through existence.

And worse? You smell good.

Which, in prehistoric terms, means war.

A cool wind howls through the valley. Birds scream. The grass shudders like it knows something stupid is about to happen.

Then—

THWACK!!!

A rock, massive, heavy, probably could kill a mammoth, lands near your foot. You blink. A club follows, barely missing your toe.

You look up.

Gojo.

Tall. Built. Filthy. Covered in mud, scratches, and an ego the size of a glacier. He grins, sharp teeth flashing, pointing at you. Then at himself. Then—slowly, dramatically—drags his fingers down his chest, smearing dirt as he flexes his pecs in the most unhinged display of caveman peacocking.

Translation: See muscles? Strongest. Best mate. Come cave.

You blink. Slowly shake your head.

Gojo pouts. He actually pouts.

Then—

SNAP!!!

A stick breaks.

Golden hair slicked back. Precise hunting scars like he personally invented caveman Botox. He sighs ( caveman sighs, deep, judgmental ), picks up a rock and chucks it at Gojo’s head.

Gojo barely dodges, screeching.

Nanami doesn’t even grunt. Just turns to you, lifts the biggest kill you’ve ever seen— some prehistoric beast that probably had a name —slung over his shoulder, and points to his cave, all very matter-of-factly.

Translation: I provide. You come.

Gojo throws another rock. It misses. But unfortunately—

BONK!!!

It hits a third caveman.

A low, dangerous growl.

Geto.

Emerging from the literal shadows, draped in feathers, hair long, eyes dark like he’s seen prehistoric horrors and survived. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t grunt. He stares. Tilts his head. Lifts a finger—crooks it.

Translation: Come. I put pretty thing in Cave.

Gojo screeches. Nanami physically exhales rage.

You take a step back.

Bad.

Very bad.

THUD!!!

Something—someone—drops from the trees above.

Toji.

Bigger. Meaner. Shirt? Doesn’t exist yet . Scars on scars. Wearing the fur of something that had fangs and regrets. He cracks his neck, flexes, and lets out a deep, primal, guttural noise.

Translation: Mine.

He already claims you.

The tension is lethal. One grunt away from Caveman Hunger Games.

Then, the worst thing happens.

A chuckle reverberates. Low. Menacing .

From the mountains.

Sukuna.

He doesn’t walk. He stalks . Covered in war paint, a necklace of teeth—probably human—and more muscle than necessary for survival. He doesn’t even look at the others.

Just at you.

Then he smirks.

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t peacock.

He just cracks his knuckles.

Disarray!!!

Gojo lunges for you—Nanami intercepts, yeets him into a tree like he’s taking out the trash. Geto sweeps in, silent, precise, fingers inches from you—but Toji body-slams him into the dirt so hard the Earth quakes.

Sukuna? Laughing his ass off. Arms crossed, enjoying the primal disaster unfolding before him like it's his personal gladiator match.

You? You run.

Because no matter what happens tonight, one undeniable truth remains:

You are getting bonked and dragged into a cave.

And frankly, you haven’t decided whose cave you actually prefer.

Gojo, incapable of losing with dignity, screeches like a rabid pterodactyl and launches himself at you again, arms wide—fully committed to scooping you up like an overgrown saber-toothed tiger carrying off its prey.

But—

BLOCKED!!!

Nanami moved with the speed and efficiency of a man who did NOT wake up for this bullshit today. One massive arm swings—and Gojo goes flying Into another tree.

Gojo blinks. Sulks. Pouts. Contemplates his life choices.

Nanami does not have time for this. Adjusts the massive chunk of fresh kill slung over his shoulder—a clear and undeniable sign of superior mate potential—then looks at you.

Steps forward. Expression serious.

Message clear: Come. Cave. Now.

You consider it.

Then—

Geto.

Unlike the others, he does not fight for dominance. He does not lunge. He simply stands there.

Watching. Waiting. Silent as death.

His violet eyes flick between Nanami and Gojo before settling on you. He does not gesture. He does not speak.

Translation: You will come to me.

Unfortunately for him—Toji doesn’t do patience.

BOOM!!!

Toji body-slams Geto into the dirt. The impact is hard enough to shake the ground.

Geto grunts, visibly irritated, but Toji is already moving. He snarls at Nanami and swats a distracted Gojo aside like an irritating cave-fly, and then grabs your wrist.

Bad.

You react immediately, twisting away, but Toji’s grip is like iron. His eyes gleam with primal amusement.

He likes this. Likes that you fight. Likes that you are difficult.

Thinks he claimed the right one.

You will birth strong cubs.

Then the world grows impossibly quiet.

A deep, amused chuckle from the mountain path.

Sukuna is still not looking at the others.

Just at you.

He smirks and cracks his knuckles.

Danger. Immediate. Imminent. Inevitable.

Gojo, pulling himself up from the dirt, grunts.

Nanami exhales through his nose. Already done. Over it.

Geto, dusting himself off, glares.

Toji grins.

Gojo lunges. Arms wide, absolutely determined to be the one who drags you home like a victorious cryptid.

BLOCKED!!! AGAIN!!!

Nanami intercepts and swings his hunting club with the force of a father disappointed in all of humanity.

Gojo ducks, cackling—only for Geto to casually trip him with a well-placed foot.

Toji, sensing an opening, grabs you.

Bad move.

You bite him.

HARD .

He yelps. Actually yelps . Stares at you, deeply offended.

Sukuna, bored of watching, finally moves.

The air shifts. The others freeze. Then he snarls—a guttural, earth-rumbling sound that promises death.

They all turn on him at once.

You take the opportunity to run again. Sprinting through the thick foliage, heart pounding like a war drum.

Behind you pure, unfiltered male ego gone feral.

Gojo swings from tree to tree like a prehistoric monkey, whooping and laughing. “OOGH! OOGHAAA!” This is the best day of his life.

Nanami moves with hunter efficiency, gaze locked on you like you’re the most troublesome prey he’s ever pursued.

Geto is nowhere to be seen, which is worse because he is waiting, plotting. Probably already set a trap.

Toji’s laughing. He thinks this is a game.

And Sukuna is gaining.

You hop over a fallen tree trunk. Panting. Twisting. Dodging.

A hand grabs your ankle.

You kick it.

Hard .

Gojo yelps. “OOGH?!”

Suddenly—Geto’s arms snake around your waist. Secure. Steady. You barely have time to react before—

Toji, out of nowhere tackles him. Like a rival apex predator.

You fall —

Right into Nanami’s arms.

He sighs. Shakes his head like you’ve personally disappointed him on a spiritual level. Then, without a word, swings you over his shoulder.

“ Hmph .”

Gojo screeches. Sukuna grins. Toji growls.

The fight is not even close to be over.

Because the only thing stronger than a Neanderthal is his ego.

You are smart. You bite Nanami’s ass.

He gets startled and drops you.

You are fast. You immediately run.

You are not going down without a fight.

But the problem?

Nanami is faster.

You weave through trees. Vault over logs. Chuck random rocks behind you in a desperate attempt to slow the brute down. You dive into a bush, hoping to vanish like an endangered species.

Then—a strong hand grabs your ankle.

“OOGH.”

Translation: Bad Woman!

You shriek, kick, bite—anything to get away.

Then just swings you back over his shoulder like you’re a misbehaving sack of mammoth meat.

Not again.

“BOOGA.”

Translation: Come Cave, Baddie.

You screech. Twist like an eel. Sink your teeth into his shoulder.

Nanami does not flinch. He has suffered worse.

You grab his hair, yank —

He grunts. Approvingly .

Before you could grimace, Gojo, having recovered from his previous embarrassment, swings in from a tree like some kind of prehistoric tarzan.

Again.

“OOGA BOOGAAAH!”

Nanami side-steps.

Gojo slams face-first into a boulder.

(Instant death? Maybe. No time to check.)

Geto appears from the shadows, attempting a silent takedown.

Nanami, without looking, swings his club backward.

CRACK!!!

Geto crumples like a defeated cave possum.

Toji, the bigger problem , lunges in, all muscle and violence.

You cheer. “OHUAOFF!!”

Translation: Yes! Kill each other!

Nanami, unfazed, puts you down and ducks Toji’s first punch, sidesteps the second, then grabs his wrist and yeets him into the river.

Toji does not resurface. Natural selection.

Then, just as you think you're free—a new challenger approaches.

Sukuna’s eyes lock onto you. Hungry. Territorial.

Sukuna snarls, lunges—

Nanami does not argue; he simply knees him in the stomach mid-air.

Sukuna chokes on his own grunt, stunned—but he does not give up.

They brawl. Fists flying. Bodies colliding. Dirt flying as prehistoric dominance reaches its final showdown.

You, watching from the sidelines, are in awe.

Then—

Nanami grabs a massive rock and smashes it over Sukuna’s head.

Silence .

Sukuna drops. Unmoving.

Rocked out of existence by Nanami’s sheer caveman dominance.

One victor.

One mate.

You blink. Nanami dusts off his hands.

You take this moment to run.

Nanami sighs, like he expected this. He lets you go for a solid five seconds before simply jogging up behind you and grabbing you again. He holds you by the waist—grip unyielding, muscles flexing like they’ve been carved from stone.

“AUGHH.”

You start screaming. Flailing. Kicking, biting, pulling out all the stops. You summon every ounce of Homo sapien intellect you have left to escape this prehistoric grip.

You poke him in the eye.

Nanami grunts. Blinks once and gives you a single disappointed look.

Then, without hesitation—the club comes down.

BONK!!!

Slamming against your head like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Darkness.

You, unfortunately, have lost. To the superior Neanderthal.

You wake up in Nanami’s cave. Wrapped in Nanami’s furs. With Nanami’s large, muscled arm trapping you in place.

You blink at the fire crackling nearby.

Nanami, victorious, is already roasting meat over the fire like he didn’t just commit mass homicide for your affection.

He looks down at you.

And smirks .

“Booga.”

You groan. You have lost.

But what’s worse than losing?

The fact that Nanami smells really good.

Like, really good. Like moss and firewood and a hint of leather that somehow makes your brain forget all the reasons you hate being in his cave in the first place.

And as Nanami effortlessly flips the meat over the fire, his muscles glistening in the warm glow, you become acutely aware of just how broad he is—and suddenly, you realize:

It’s throbbing for him.

A/N: And there we have it! You survived the cavemen chaos! 🦖💥 This came to me while I was showering for some reason. I hope you enjoyed watching these ridiculously over-the-top Neanderthals fight for your attention. If you made it this far, you're either a true JJK brainrot survivor or just really into prehistoric aggression & questionable decisions (same). 😏 Don’t forget to leave a comment if you’re still laughing at Gojo’s tree-swinging antics or if you, too, are secretly falling for Nanami's primal charm. Also, who would you pick—cave buddy-wise? I’m personally Team Nanami, but we can all dream about the chaos of having them all, right? Reverse modern day patriarchal society by Reverse Herem, anyone?? Catch you in the next wild ride—maybe with fewer rocks to the head... or not. 🤷‍♀️ Stay strong, stay ridiculous, & remember: you’re the real apex predator here. 😈🖤

Next Chapter because ya'll loved it so much - Ooga Booga Gojo tries to Court you (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[bandsofmarv]

Venomous hearts

Mattheo and Theo have both set their sights on you igniting a rivalry.

I might make this a series.

No warnings.

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the emerald glow from the fireplace casting an eerie shimmer over the cold, stone walls. You sat in your usual spot by the window, attempting to focus on the Potions essay Snape had assigned, but the atmosphere in the room was far too tense for concentration.

Mattheo Riddle lounged across the couch, his dark eyes locked on you like a predator watching prey. He twirled his wand lazily, but his jaw was clenched, betraying the storm raging beneath his cool exterior. Across the room, Theodore Nott leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His icy blue eyes flicked between you and Mattheo, his expression unreadable yet charged with unspoken challenge.

The tension between them had been brewing for weeks, and you, the unwilling centerpiece of their silent war, were caught in the crossfire.

“Is the essay really that interesting, love?” Mattheo drawled, his voice dripping with a mixture of arrogance and irritation.

You glanced up, trying to ignore the way his lips curved into a smirk, though his eyes held a sharper edge. “Unlike some people, Mattheo, I prefer to pass my classes.”

Theo let out a soft scoff from across the room, drawing both your and Mattheo’s attention. “Maybe she just prefers spending her time with people who don’t treat everything like a game,” he said coolly, his tone a deliberate jab.

Mattheo sat up, his smirk vanishing. “Careful, Theo,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re treading on thin ice.”

Theo pushed off the wall, taking a step closer. He looked calm, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands twitched at his sides. “What are you going to do, Mattheo? Hex me because she’s tired of your theatrics?”

“Guys—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by Mattheo’s sudden rise to his feet.

“You don’t get to talk about theatrics, Nott,” Mattheo snarled, his wand now pointed at Theo. “You’ve been circling her like a bloody vulture for months. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Theo didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his lips curling into a taunting smile. “And what about you? Acting like you own her, like she’s some prize to be won. That’s not affection, Riddle; that’s obsession.”

Your heart pounded as you stood, placing yourself between them before things escalated further. “Enough! Both of you!”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to you, softening slightly, but his grip on his wand didn’t loosen. Theo, however, stepped back, though his gaze lingered on you.

“You’re not some pawn in their game, Y/N,” Theo said quietly, his voice laced with an unexpected vulnerability. “You deserve someone who sees you, not someone who uses you to stroke their ego.”

Mattheo scoffed, but you caught the flash of hurt in his expression. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of hero, Theo. We all know you’re no better than me.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension and unsaid words. You looked between them, your heart aching at the pain they both carried, the pain they were now projecting onto you.

“I’m not a prize,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “And I won’t let either of you turn this into a competition. Figure out your own issues before dragging me into them.”

With that, you grabbed your essay and stormed out of the common room, leaving them both behind.

As the door slammed shut, neither Mattheo nor Theo moved. For the first time, they were forced to confront the truth: their feelings for you weren’t just a game, but the scars they’d leave might be too deep to repair.