#idk what’s worse: losing your mind or realizing that you’re losing your mind

[ghostbeam]

1.5k, charcoal artist!dabi (again I’m so sorry), mentions of alcohol, dabi and reader are awkward, idk what this is but I kept it under 2k and that is a win for me

It’s been two weeks.

You haven’t seen him by your tree since then, but you haven’t taken him up on his offer and showed up at his place. You transferred the address from the pen on your skin to a scrap piece of paper and hung in on your fridge before you could lose it forever after washing your hands.

It would be weird to show up without calling, only you can’t call him because you don’t have his number. You don’t have classes in the same building, and you think it would be even weirder to walk around the art department to find him instead of just knocking on his door, like he asked you to. 

So, you do end up at his front door, double checking the address with the numbers outside, because Dabi seems to live in some kind of warehouse, and you would assume he wrote down the wrong address if it didn’t make complete sense in your mind that he lived here. You decided on a Friday night, because you assumed a guy like him would be out, and the thought of him answering his door right now is mortifying. 

But he does answer it, and his hair is sticking out in different directions even worse than before, and he’s yawning into his fist, and you’re realizing you’ve just woke him up. 

It stuns him a little, to see you. You’re cute all bundled up from the chilly night out, chin tucked into your scarf as you let your eyes fall over his form. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He tells you, leaning against his door frame, voice heavy with sleep. “Figured you thought it was weird that I gave you my address.”

“It was weird.” You nodded, shivering a bit from the cold. “Can I come in?”

He opens the door wider and lets you through. It’s mostly dark inside, one lamp in a far corner illuminating just a little bit of the room. He mutters a sorry as he passes by you, turning on lights overhead, half of the lightbulbs needing to be changed and not helping to illuminate the place much at all. 

“It’s usually brighter during the day.” He shrugs, turning back towards you. “The windows.”

He gestures behind him and you notice the large panels of glass against both walls. It must be nice in the day, all of the natural light, especially for an artist. 

You continue to look around. It’s mostly one giant room with ceilings as tall as the sky. There’s a small kitchen on the right side of the place, art that you assume isn’t his hung on the refrigerator, handmade mugs hanging on a rack by the sink, boxes of sugary cereal on the wooden island you think maybe he or someone else built.

There’s a bathtub to the left, just out in the middle of everything. It’s strange, and completely out of place, but looking at it gives you some sort of weird vision of the future in your mind. Reading in it, leaning back against Dabi and falling asleep, him peering over the edge and kissing you goodbye. A fond smile crosses your face.

Easels, and standing desks, and giant canvases full of abstract paint fill the rest of the room. A tarp on the floor in the middle of everything is covered with charcoal and red paint, pages and pages of unfinished sketches. Paperbacks lay on tables, stacked up against walls, three on his bedside table, all with bookmarks inside, unfinished.

“It’s a mess, I know.” He shrugs. “I kept it nice for a while, you know, in case you came, but then I kind of figured you never would. But you did.”

There’s something guarded about him this time, less open than he was when you met him on the grass. You can understand it. After all, you’re intruding. He was asleep. You should go home. 

“Maybe I should go home. It’s probably a bad time. It’s late, and—” You feel his hand wrap around your wrist, stoping your nervous ramble.

“Stay. Please, I want you to stay.” He tells you, and you can see that bit of vulnerability shine through, a little bit in his eyes. You nod, unable to look away from him. “You want something to drink?”

You don’t trust your voice, so all you do is nod, and when Dabi disappears into his tiny kitchen, you walk further into the room, entranced by his art. You wish you knew more about it, then, that you had something to compare it to, though you think maybe there’s nothing like what he does. 

He brings back a bottle of beer, and you take a long gulp because you suddenly feel hot alone with Dabi in his space. He chuckles under his breath and tugs on your arm.

“You wanna take this off?” He asks you, tugging on your scarf. You hand him your beer and take your scarf and coat off, letting him take them from you and laying them across his bed. He walks to one of the desks in the room, pulling the spiral sketchbook from the day before and a portfolio with handles from behind the desk. He hands you the book and drops the portfolio heavy on the floor. 

“Here.” He tells you, rubbing his palms on the sides of his pants out of what you think is nerves. “It’s obviously not everything, but you can start here, I guess. Or stop there, too. If you get sick of it.”

You say nothing, but you move to sit on the floor, opening the spiral sketchbook. It’s not all pretty or refined or finished. It’s a hand and an eye and the face of a friend and a tree and a body of water. It’s all scribbled and jagged, and there’s bits that are smooth, smudged over and shaded in a way that makes you feel like if you touched it, it would feel like skin. There’s splotches of red and yellow, blues and greens, a random water color on one page, ink on the next. 

And when you get close to the end, it’s all you. 

It’s not much, but it’s more than you expected. There’s no more mistakes here, nothing unfinished or crossed out or scribbled over. He’s careful about it. You’re speechless. 

You pull the portfolio into your lap and open the flap. Pages of all varying sizes and textures are stuffed inside. These pieces are much more refined. He’s worked on them for longer, maybe for a class. He has an unbelievable eye for the human body, how it bends and folds. You hate to think about how these are hidden away behind his desk. You’d put them up around the city, and on bulletin boards in cafe’s, and over every inch of your walls in your own apartment.

It makes you feel a little bit emotional, here on his floor with his soul in your hands. There’s this urge you have, to hug him, to push his hair from his eyes, to kiss his hands. You hold one page in between your fingers, the torso of a man and his arms around a woman, her head lying back against his chest. You stand up, and you look at him with your watery eyes, and you turn to walk away. 

You swing a leg over the weird, out in the open bath tub, and settle down inside, looking down at the piece you took. Dabi’s footsteps are slow as he approaches you, crouches down next to the tub and rests his forearms on it.

“You can have that one.” He says, resting his chin against his arm. “Or any of them. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

You don’t know how to tell him you want it all. Selfishly, you’d take every single piece if he gave them to you. 

You look at him, thumbing the corner of the page, yours now. You keep opening and closing your mouth like you want to speak. You want to tell him thank you, and you probably should if he’s really letting you keep it, but it’s more than that. Thank you for letting me see you. I have nothing like this that can show you the inside of my soul, but you can reach through my ribs if you want to.

His hand comes up to rest behind your head, the brush of his thumb against your neck, tender. You lean into it and close your eyes. When you open them, he’s much closer now, so close that leaning forward makes you bump noses. He smiles. 

“Will you stay?” It’s not a question of just to night, but forever, you think. Or at least that’s how it feels to you. You nod. 

“God, yes.” You answer, like you’ve been waiting for him to ask, like you’re whole life has led up to this moment in this empty bathtub. He brushes his lips against yours like he’s asking permission. You give him the slightest nod. 

He kisses you. 

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #posting this at a weird time I just want it GONE!!!!! #I think I hate it sort of idk anywayssss #ghost.writes #ghost.drabble #ALSO NOT EDITED SORRY OMG

[coconutcordiale]

In honor of How To Lose a Guy In Ten Days and Matthew McConaughey: “Great Answer.” “Good Question.” With Hangman

make my motor run

pairing- finnegan (everybody wants some!!) x afab reader

synopsis- everyone thinks finn is so sweet. you're not convinced.

warnings- 18+ minors and glen powell - you are not welcome here. protected piv, oral (f receiving), slight dumbification/degradation, praise kink. reader has ethically not great motives around sleeping with finn but do we honestly think finn cares? no

length- 2.1k

an- not hangman, but it's still glen so...close enough? this is the crossover literally not one person asked for - how to lose a guy in 10 days (if you squint a little) & everybody wants some

idk y'all, i don't have it in me to be ashamed anymore. this is just smut with some bants. idk if anyone even wants to read this but the glen powell brain rot is real so it had to be done so it'd stop rattling around in my mind. blame glen and his stupidly handsome face and the fact that he steals every scene he's in

title from my sharona - the knack

tagging some finn peeps - @sebsxphia / @iguana-braces / @justalonelyslytherin

It’s Saturday night. Against your better judgment, you’re at the rickety baseball houses, silently debating if you’ll have time to get a tetanus shot before your study group tomorrow morning.

Finn twirls his pipe between his fingers, leaning against the porch railing in a ridiculous paisley button-up. “Aside from how to take my breath away, what do you study here, ladies?”

“Does that ever actually work on real, human women?” You ask, ignoring the elbow to your ribs that Sophia digs into your side, presumably to get you to shut up.

The blond tilts his head, processing. He eventually grins. “Take no prisoners kinda gal, aren’t ya? I like that.” 

You hold back a grunt when Sophia elbows you again, answering the question before you can snark him any further. “We’re both journalism majors.” 

Going to take a sip of your drink, something you’ll surely need to swallow whatever faux-enlightened comment he has about that little piece of information; you furrow your brows when you realize it’s empty.

“I’ll grab you another drink, try not to miss me too much.” Finn winks, the bastard. What a ham. 

Your eye roll is barely contained when Sophia gives you a knowing look. 

“Oh, come on, he’s sweet,” she insists. 

“You’ve seen him with other girls, right? Everything out of his mouth is a line, Soph. It’s all bullshit. He’s pandering to us, so he seems better, different than his asshole teammates. It’s insulting.”

“Then why haven’t you told him to fuck off?”

“I think he’d be a good subject for my article.”

Her eyes widen. “About benevolent misogyny?”

“That’s the one.”

“How far are you gonna take this? Sleep with him to prove a point about how far a chauvinistic male will go for sex?”

You shrug. You hadn’t really thought it through, honestly. It’s not like it’d be a chore, he is pretty hot when he keeps his mouth shut.

She takes your silence as confirmation. “That’s kind of fucked up.” 

“Can’t be worse than changing your entire personality every other night just to get laid.” 

+ 

You find yourself sitting on the roof with Finn, having already shown up his mediocre golf swing. You’d never admit it to Soph, but your article is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

“True or false: all fundamental beliefs are reasonable.” You’re so taken aback by his pop quiz you almost don’t notice him sitting down behind you, pulling you into the space between his legs.

Smooth. You roll your eyes, but don’t move away. “False.” 

You can hear the smile in his voice. “I see someone’s already taken Philosophy 101 with Roberts.” 

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant. That’s an insane statement regardless.” 

When you turn to catch a glimpse of him you see him opening his mouth, ostensibly to argue, but you shake your head. “My turn. True or false: all’s fair in love and war.” 

“True.”

You can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Great answer.” 

Finn positively beams. “Good question!” His hands drift up from your hips, working their way under your flimsy tank before he brings his lips to your ear, murmuring, “True or false: you’re gonna let me take you inside so I can take you apart.” 

Your breath hitches. “True.” 

He turns your head to him, mouth pressing against yours, mustache tickling you, soft and sweet for just a moment, before he slides his tongue into your mouth filthily. “Let’s go then, honey.”

Your tiny denim shorts and little tank get lost on the floor of his bedroom almost immediately, skin ablaze as he pushes you back onto his bed, on soft forest green sheets that smell like him – warm and spicy and earthy. He stays standing as he makes quick work of his own clothes, raking his eyes across your naked form.

You try not to shy away from his gaze, meeting his eyes defiantly as you feel slick pooling between your thighs. You’re barely keeping yourself from rubbing them together, words laced with an edge you don’t feel. “Thought you were working on a degree in cunnilingus. Put that mouth to good use, Finn.”

There’s a sparkle in those green eyes that you catch just before he braces himself above you, arms bracketing your head. His words are muffled against your skin as he kisses his way down your body. “Overheard that, did you? Knew you were paying special attention to me.”

You roll your eyes, mouth open to respond, but he drags his lips across your collarbone before his mouth closes around a nipple, effectively driving any wit from you.

He pushes your legs open wide, settling himself between them. His chest presses into the mattress as his arms wrap around your thighs where he’s busy putting them over his shoulders. When his mustache brushes against your thigh's sensitive skin, it sends shivers racketing through you and you feel his smirk only centimeters away from where you want it. 

He licks his lips as your resolve crumbles with every passing second.

“C’mon, Finn, please,” you whine, threading your hands through his shaggy hair, trying in vain to pull him closer to your cunt.

“Impatient,” he tsks. You lean up to fix him with a glare, but it only makes him chuckle. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll take care of you.”

He finally, finally licks a stripe up your slit, and despite it being exactly what you asked for, you tug on hard on the blond hair between your fingers in surprise. He groans long and low, vibrations rolling through your body from your center where his lips are busy fixing themselves to your clit. 

His buries his face in you, moaning against your cunt as his tongue laps at you like a starved man. “Could spend hours drowning in this pussy, tastes so fucking good.”

The sound that leaves you in answer to that is pathetic – high and whiny – hips bucking. His big hands are gripping you so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises high on your legs tomorrow. He stiffens his tongue to fuck it in and out of you, nose bumping your clit and making you shake, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Any sense of shame, any idea that you should keep yourself quiet in this house full of strangers has left you – your existence narrowed down to your hands in his hair, his lips on your cunt, the moans tearing their way from your throat, unbidden.

Your legs dig into his back, urging him in, hurtling towards the point of no return so fast all you can think of is needing more. He moves his lips back to your clit, hand loosening his death grip enough to slide a finger into the wet mess you’ve become at the same time he curls his lips and sucks.

“Don’t stop, please, Finn I -” You’re begging now, grinding against his face as much as you can in the vice-like grip he still has on you. He doubles his efforts, tongue working over your clit harder, finger inside you curling as you burn with the intensity of it, electricity bursting beneath your skin as the tension finally bursts, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your legs feel like jelly. You let go of his blond locks belatedly, resigning yourself to your new existence as a puddle, a melted version of your former self. 

He looks up from between your legs and grins. 

You grab for his arms where they’re still flexed around your thighs, bringing him up face to face with you. He smiles, dropping sweet kisses to your parted lips and warm cheeks. Whining, you wrap your legs around his waist, wordlessly trying to pull him to you, get him inside of you, greedy for him.

“Don’t tell me a smart girl like you doesn’t know how to use her words,” Finn goads, laughter curling in his words, and you’re torn between wanting to smack him and beg like your life depends on it. You’re so distracted you barely notice him shifting his weight to his knees so he can reach for a condom, tear it open with his teeth, and roll it on.

You try to glare but he braces himself over you again, rubbing his cock between your folds, catching your oversensitive clit and a truly embarrassing whimper comes out, eyes blurring with a mix of pain and pleasure instead. “Finnegan.” 

“Yeah, baby?”

Taking a deep breath, you try to get your last functioning brain cell to cooperate. “Get inside me right now or so help me –”

You can still feel the amusement on his lips as he ducks his head down to slot your mouths together to cut you off, swallowing your moan as he pushes into you, slow and steady. 

When you flex your legs around his waist impatiently, he chuckles before setting a relentless pace, grinding his cock into you hard with each push. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it sets your skin on fire, it rackets the headboard against the wall – if his teammates didn’t know what was happening before, they certainly have a good idea now.

Your head lolls to the side as he hits that spot inside you on every thrust, nerves overloaded as you grip the nape of his neck, just trying to hold on.

“Fuck,” he groans, looking down at the glazed expression taking over your features. “Not gonna last long.” 

The thought that he’s already so close from having his mouth on you has your eyes crossing, cunt clenching around his thick length. His face crumples, mouth parting like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him. “Trying to kill me, honey?”

He lifts one of your legs to his shoulders, leaning down towards you and bending you in half – pushing limits to flexibility you didn’t even know you had.

“Wanna feel you come on my cock, you can do that for me, can’t you?” Finn asks, panting against your cheek, deft fingers moving down to circle your clit.

The sparks shooting through you as he presses into your center border on pain but you’re nodding, head bobbing up and down of its own accord, nails scratching red along his shoulders as you get closer and closer.

“Good girl,” he grunts and you keen, his words hurtling you towards the edge again. “So good for me…look at you, smart ass, brilliant girl fucked dumb on my cock.”

He’s pulling almost all the way out of you on every thrust now, slamming back in, and your back arches against him, a string of unintelligible noises leaving you that you’re just barely aware of, mewling filling the air in the room as your release snaps through you, ears ringing.

When you come to, still shaking and clenching around him, he’s running his mouth still, a litany of praise and groans of fuck honey, perfect for me, spilling from his bitten, red lips. His hips tear forward without rhythm as he pumps into you one last time, filling the condom before dropping your leg and collapsing next to you, strings holding him up suddenly cut.

Finn rolls to the side, and you stare at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering if you’ll ever be able to move again. You think he’s talking, but you can’t even begin to register what he’s saying. 

“Did I fuck all the brains out of the mouthy girl I brought up here?” Finn asks, amused when you don’t respond.

“Just surprised you wanted audience participation for your post-sex speech,” you snark, trying not to belay how difficult it is to form words currently.

“Well, I think Joanna Russ would disparage of me if I were indifferent to your thoughts and opinions immediately after getting off.”

 You raise an eyebrow. “You know who Joanna Russ is?”

 “The Female Man is a cornerstone of feminist literature. I read it be—”

 You can’t help but interrupt, brain quickly coming back online. “Because you thought it was going to be about the ideal woman through a man’s eyes.”

 He even has the gall to look offended. “Of course not, everyone knows Russ is a feminist writer.”

“Then you read it so more women would sleep with you after hearing that you’d read it.” He presses his lips together to hold back a smile and you snort. “I knew it.”

“Honey, don’t get mad at me just because it works.”

“Incorrigible.” 

You lay your head on his chest, trying not to purr like a kitten as his hands tangle in your hair.

“I enjoy Jack Kerouac too if you really want to round out your article. Paint a full picture.”

Your eyes widen, trying desperately to keep in the surprised squeak when you look up to meet jade eyes and see them filled with mischief.

“Just a thought,” he murmurs, hands resuming their movements on your scalp, lulling you toward sleep.

full disclosure i haven't actually read the female man but i'm pretty sure it was published in the 70s which seemed fitting for ews being set in the 80s. thanks for reading!

#walt finnegan #finnegan x reader #walt finn finnegan #walt finnegan x reader #glen powell #everybody wants some #glen powell character x reader #glen powell x you #glen powell x reader #finnegan fanfic #everybody wants some x reader #finn my love #finn x reader #walt finnegan fanfic #how to lose a guy in 10 days #glen powell fanfiction #glen powell fanfic #glen powell smut #walt finnegan smut #finnegan smut

[ecoamerica]

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[blondeboyfriend]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Yes, the title is ripped from a Mitski song. She said the song "...is about hurt people finding each other, and using sex to make sense of their pain." And I was like oh fuck yeah, let me bastardize this for my fic. Needless to say this is very self-indulgent. Not beta'd. (repost) [ SYNOPSIS ] You and Zeke are stressed beyond belief and seek relief. idk it's pwp, okay! [ WORD COUNT ] 2.9k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, sub!reader, body specific!reader (y/n is marginally shorter than Zeke but still tall-coded, and is implied to be on the thinner side), mean!Zeke (and soft!Zeke), POV shifts, idealized D/s relationship, brat taming, sadomasochism, impact play (slapping), degradation (use of slut), humiliation, spit play, oral sex (m and f receiving), deep throating, facefucking, throatfucking, hair pulling, nipple play, dumbification (you just get fucked dumb, not teased for it), aftercare.

Life had been getting the best of you.

Stress pervaded it, cursing you with sweaty palms and little bouts of aggression. Work sucked ass. Sleep was more elusive than ever. And your blonde boyfriend, Zeke, seemed tinged with distance. Despite all this you managed to keep yourself relatively together. You only dropped the facade at home, the one place you were free to be as huffy as needed. Usually it was a cure all, but over time the perceived charm of your snide comments and clinginess wore thin. Your rituals bored you, made you feel worse. Your brattiness became oppressive and sucked the air out of the room. Its playfulness replaced with genuine derision. What should have been a mundane night on the couch watching television ended up wrought with tension.

“Is there any particular reason why you’re acting like this?” Zeke asked as you twirled a lock of his hair between your fingers.

Playing coy crossed your mind, but you decided to articulate your anxieties.

You sighed and briefly gathered your thoughts. “I’m mentally exhausted. Everyone at work is so annoying, but I know that’s only because I’m perpetually irritated regardless of the situation. They could be telling me I did an incredible job and I’ll feel myself wanting to lose my shit. And,” you hesitated. “I feel a little, uh, neglected.”

He frowned.

“Well that’s no good.”

You pulled on the flaxen tendril between your fingers.

“No shit,” you seethed.

He glanced over at you, little daggers dancing from his grey gaze.

“You do realize that’s no way to get what you want.”

“Then why does it work like 90% of the time?”

“I’d argue it’s 80%.”

You crawled into his lap and straddled him, planting your knees next to his hips. He cocked an eyebrow and looked over your shoulder at the television. You placed your hand under his chin and gripped it, forcing him to look directly at you.

“I know you’re just as stressed as me.”

“Your point being?” He questioned in a sing-song voice.

You clenched your jaw.

“Don’t you wanna let go? It’s been so long since we indulged.”

Zeke’s eyes softened and a tiny grin crossed his face. You had a point. He couldn’t remember the last time he “put you in your place.” Lately it seemed as if he forged a suit of patience, or rather what you would deride as indifference. He had recently taken on a managerial role at work, wrangling a gaggle of employees. And while Zeke had a knack for exercising power over people, it wasn’t something he was fond of. It was enervating if anything.

“Is that a yes?” You asked.

His hand found itself on the back of your head, softly patting it.

“What kind of man would I be if I denied a pretty, little thing like you?”

“The worst kin—”

His grip tightened around your hair, taking you by surprise.

“Get on the floor, slut, before I make you.”

“What if I want you to make me?”

He glanced over your shoulder making sure there wasn’t anything behind you. He used his foot to move the coffee table out of the way before shoving you off of him. Your body collided against the carpeted floor with a muted thump. He got up off the couch and looked down at your crumpled form.

“Get up,” he ordered, kicking one of your long legs.

You narrowed your eyes.

“No,” you sneered.

You looked up at him. There was nothing you loved more than his body towering over yours. It was such a rarity considering he wasn’t that much taller than you.

“Are you really going to make me repeat myself?”

“You fuckin’ know it.”

Zeke grabbed you by the hair and started dragging you towards the bedroom. The carpet met your back as your shirt ran up. It scraped along your spine, the friction marring your skin. The pain left you kicking your legs which helped him drag you down the hall. This game was always a team effort. As he made his pilgrimage to your bedroom every slight tug felt like needles penetrating your tender scalp. You winced as your skin waxed and waned in a flurry of ardor and agony. The stress was already melting away.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, letting go of your hair.

You sat slumped over by the door in a dollish heap. His fist left your hair a tattered mess. Thankfully combing it out was a task Zeke was more than happy to take on. Once you both had your fill of sadistic debauchery, he became fixated on putting you back together.

“I guess,” you murmured.

“You guess?”

You raised your voice. “I know you can do better… Or are you not man enough?”

“If you’re trying to piss me off, you’re failing miserably.”

Zeke squatted down in front of you and spit in your face, right between the eyes. His saliva was warm and tobacco-tained. You went to wipe it away as it dripped down the bridge of your nose.

“Leave it,” he said as he stood up.

“Hmph.” You pouted and let your hand fall to your side.

“Get up,” he demanded.

“That’snot very convincing.”

Zeke picked you up with hesitation, tossing you over his shoulder. You squirmed around, refusing to go down without a fight. It did little to deter him. His iron will was truly something to behold. Once you were in the bedroom he set you down upright. He stared at you like you were nothing more than a lamb being taken to the slaughter.

“A slut like you doesn’t need clothes. Take them off.”

“No,” you said defiantly. “Not gonna happen.”

His rough hand grazed your skin as he grabbed ahold of your face. His palm rested under your chin while his callused fingers squished your cheeks.

“Do you think this behavior is charming? Clever?”

You nodded smugly.

“It’s idiotic and banal. If you keep it up, I’m going to replace you.”

Usually Zeke winced after saying something so cruel, but this time he refrained. He had grown into his role, becoming more comfortable with it. But he was still plagued with a sense of guilt when he uttered those words. You were irreplaceable and he was certain you knew that.

“C’mon. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

You attempted to annoy him with a garbled, “Pathetic.”

Zeke gave you a swift slap across the face. A stinging sensation radiated throughout your cheek like a shockwave. He never raised his voice nor showed any anger when bringing you to heel. You were instead blessed with cruel and casual indifference.

You pulled down your unbearably short sleep shorts and underwear, stepping out of them. Next was your shirt. You pulled it off and tossed it to the side. You stood in front of Zeke, completely at his will.

He swallowed hard at the sight of your supple form. His eyes lingered on your legs, easily his favorite part of your body. He liked having them over his shoulders while he filled your cunt with his cum.

“Kneel. Now.”

You did as you were told. Your snarkiness had transformed into desperate compliance. You wanted nothing more than to feel the weight of his hand and earn his praise. You wanted every inch of your skin to sing, to be speckled with purple splotches and bite marks.

“Open your mouth.”

“Make me,” you mumbled. It was the death rattle of your brattiness.

Zeke was more than happy to do so. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his thick cock out. The tip was pink and pearly with precum. He pushed it past your lips with ease. Resisting him had lost all fun; you made room for his cock to fill your mouth. Though instead of sliding it in gently, he was forceful. You nearly choked as his tip grazed the back of your throat. His rough hand met the back of your head and held you there. Drool pooled and trickled out from the corners of your mouth. You looked up at him and were met with his indifferent, grey gaze. He gripped your hair and began to thrust in and out of your mouth. You breathed through your nose, trying to avoid asphyxiating on his length.

“Look who’s pathetic now,” he said, slapping you once more.

You did look rather pathetic kneeling nude in front of a fully clothed man. But there was something freeing in the vulnerability you presented to Zeke.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question. Zeke knew you were in no position to garble out an answer. Still you wished you could tell him that you did like being used. Nothing made you throb more than him reducing you to a mere fucktoy. Though words could likely never articulate how grandiose your desire was.

“Disgusting brat,” he growled as you used his thighs to brace yourself. “You’re lucky I let you touch me.”

Hearing those words made your cunt swell with ardor. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping the friction would soothe your aching clit. Fluids flowed from your folds and slipped between your ass cheeks. His soft pubes tickled your nose as he held your face flush to his crotch.

Zeke loved defiling your mouth, how you struggled to keep his cock inside. Your resolve drove him wild. He used his rough palm to push you off of him. He grabbed you by the face and forced you to peer up at him.

“Beg for it,” he said before smacking your cheek.

“Please,” you whined while wincing.

“Please what?”

“Can I please suck your cock?”

“Why should I let you? Convince me. Now.”

“Because you can do whatever you want to me.”

He laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised that a slut like you would have no self respect. Open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, letting Zeke’s cock fill your mouth. A sick grin of satisfaction crept across his face. He rolled his hips against your face letting the shaft hit the back of your throat. You breathed deeply through your nose and ran your pillowy tongue along the underside of his cock. He let out a hearty groan and placed his hand on the base of your skull. He thrusted, moaning your name as precum dripped down your throat.

Your chest was slowly coated with drool. It left your breasts shimmering under the dimmed pendant light hanging from the ceiling. Your nipples were tumescent and you longed for them to be in between Zeke’s teeth. You looked up at him wide-eyed like some sort of faux ingénue.

He swallowed hard. It was a privilege to have you kneeling in front of him. He kept fucking your mouth raw and gave your hair a hard tug.

“You know I can’t come if you don’t cry a little,” he goaded through gritted teeth.

He pulled on your hair again and forced you to hold the full length of his cock in your mouth. Little tears started to well up in your eyes and trickle down from the corners. He liked it best when you looked like a sobbing statue of the Virgin Mary, brows knitted in blissful torment.

“Your mouth feels so good,” he groaned while clenching his jaw. “Fuck.”

Zeke tossed his head back and grasped your face by the cheeks and thrust wildly. All you could hear was him moaning as he fucked his cum down your throat. Some managed to work its way out of your mouth. Once he finished, he palmed your forehead, pushing you off of his cock. You sat before him with your lips and chin glossy with cum, your breasts coated in spit, and your thighs sticky with your own fluids.

“Do you have any more tiresome retorts?”

You didn’t bother answering.

He continued with his dressing-down. “You’re too easy to break. I always think you’ll put up more of a fight because of that mouth of yours. But every time you're reduced to a piteous slut with next to no effort.”

He lifted your chin.

“Though,” he cooed. ”You were very obedient once I beat you into submission.”

You went to speak, but all you could do was whimper. That little incomprehensible noise was enough for Zeke to get on his knees and tug off his cardigan. He draped it over your shoulders. You smiled weakly and slipped your arms through the sleeves.

“Can I be sweet to you now? I’m running out of fucked up things to say,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours.

You snorted. “Yeah. What do you got in mind?”

He stood and helped you up, letting you lie on the bed. He crawled on top of you and kissed your forehead. It was a welcome change from the sting of his slap. Pain was a lovely thing, but exhausting all the same. He slipped his hand between your thighs, running his fingers along your slick folds.

“I want to bury my face in your pussy,” he replied before licking his fingers clean.

“Please do that,” you sighed as he nibbled on your collarbone.

He left a trail of kisses down your neck and chest, stopping only to swirl his warm tongue around your nipple. Quiet, drawn out moans emanated from you as he began to suck on your swollen bud. His soft lips felt like heaven as he hungrily lapped your breast. In between the sounds of him suckling, he let out a stream of subdued whines.

“Want you so bad,” he said as he made his way down to your dripping cunt.

Your toes curled in anticipation as Zeke bent your knees. He parted your thighs and nestled his face between them. Your breath hitched as his beard tickled your skin. He tongued your weeping hole while his nose nuzzled your clit. You rocked your hips back and forth, grinding up against his face.

You opened your mouth to speak, but could only let out a startled hiccup. Zeke surprised you by reaching up and grabbing you by the hips. He dug his fingers into your tender skin, a little reminder that he still lorded over you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his breath hot against your cunt. He glanced up at you over his glasses. “You taste so good.”

Shyness pervaded your body. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire. You shut your eyes tight to avoid the brunt of his gaze.

Zeke couldn’t have been less pleased. He dug his nails into your hips.

“Look at me, slut,” he hissed.

You obeyed. There was no avoiding eye contact. He wouldn’t allow for it, not while he ate you alive. He ran his tongue along your folds, savoring the sapid slick that covered them. He wanted to consume you, for you to be his and only his. No one else deserved to taste your piquant nectar.

“Sh—shit,” you murmured, writhing against the mattress.

“Are you gonna come all over my tongue?” He teased.

He sucked on your clit, the hairs of his beard tickling the delicate flesh around it. Your whole body tensed up.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

You went to place your hand on the back of his head but hesitated at the last second.

“Go ahead,” he said.

You rested your hand at the base of his skull and held him close. He grunted as his face was buried further into your cunt. The room was filled with the sounds of your anguished moans and his lecherous slurps. A few labored “fuck”s fell from your lips as you arched your back. You felt like you were ascending.

“C—can I come n—now?” You begged, trying to stave off your orgasm.

Zeke gave your clit a slow lick with his soft tongue.

“I guess,” he said, echoing your earlier tone.

“Fuck you,” you coughed out as ecstasy enveloped you.

Zeke’s teeth grazed your clit; an act that would normally elicit a yelp provoked no alarm. You were awash in rapture. Your grip on his head tightened as you rode out your orgasm. You were dizzy with pleasure and rendered nothing more than a brainless dolly. All you could comprehend was the heat coursing through your body and wetness flowing from your cunt.

“D’you feel a little better now?” Zeke asked.

You looked down, and noticed his glasses were fogged up. His beard glistened with your fluids. You ruffled his hair gently and gave him a little nod. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got up off the bed.

“Bath?” He asked cheerfully.

You nodded again. The act of speaking would return to you at a later time. Zeke scooped you up off the bed and carried you into the bathroom. He set you down on the bathroom sink while he ran a bath. Once the warm water was flowing he took a seat on the toilet and gestured for you to crawl into his lap. You curled up in his arms, resting your head in the crook of his neck. His heavy, rough hand slipped under the cardigan you wore and stroked your back. The soothing sound of running water and the heat radiating from Zeke’s body made you feel like you were drifting through a blissful dream.

It seemed you had gotten the best out of life.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke jaeger smut #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #x reader #reader insert #.fics #.aot #.zeke

[chickawah23]

Dear Reader thoughts…

Parts of this song just feel like they were written by Karlie…I’m sorry if this is a clown 🤡 take. I am going to jump around in the song a bit. But follow along if you’d like.

My thought that this was Karlie narrating started with this lyric “But darling, darling, please you wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking.” It just feels like she’s making it clear it’s not who you think narrating this song. I also can see it saying even if you think it’s me it’s not really me that is talking online if that makes sense.

When the narrator says “My fourth drink in my hand.” It made me think back to the entire second verse from Question…? Where Taylor sings:

“Half-moon eyes, bad surprise. Did you realize out of time she was on your mind with some dickhead guy that you saw that night. But you were on something. It was one drink after another. Fuckin’ politics and gender roles and you’re not sure and I don’t know.”

The way that one drink after another pings in my head in that second verse of Question…? ties it to the fourth drink in my hand from DR because it feels like the word ‘drink’ means year. Like the fourth year in my hand. Like 4 years of “marriage.” Which reminds me of ivy “My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. Taking mine, but it's been promised to another.”

Then the next line “These desperate prayers of a cursed man. Spilling out to you for free.” Sounds like ivy again specifically “I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed. He's in the room. Your opal eyes are all I wish to see. He wants what's only yours.” The man in this story is the hullabaloo. Being tied to him is a curse. The hiding in plain sight line feels like it’s tied to the second verse of Vigilante Shit as well as the Great War she was the soldier in camouflage who got trapped behind enemy lines.

Then the lyric “if you knew where I was walking. To a house not a home all alone cause nobody’s there.” That line sticks out in my brain because it reminded me of CIWYW “My baby's fit like a daydream. Walkin' with his head down I'm the one he's walking to.”

Then the lyric goes on to say “Where I pace in my pen” Where she describes this house that is not a home as a “pen” she paces in like an animal in a pen waiting for her chance to be set free.

Like if we compare this to the opening line of the song “Dear reader, if it feels like a trap. You're already in one.” This whole song feels like a warning to learn from the narrator’s mistakes.

And then she says “and my friends found friends who care. No one sees when you lose when you're playing solitaire.” Idk why but this line just feels so layered. It just feels like the narrator is self-isolating intentionally so that she is the only one who gets damaged. Like taking the brunt of the loss by fading into the background.

Maybe I tie all this to Karlie because that line reminded me of this picture Karlie posted to her IG stories on 10/6/21 with her and her friends having a game night idk:

Plus this line “Dear reader, when you aim at the devil. Make sure you don't miss.” It just feels like there was some failed efforts to get out but they backfired. Like if we compare this to the pen discussion before. It just feels like a failed escape attempt that just made things worse.

Also the “never take advice from someone whose falling apart” refrain feels tied to the

Then the outro lyric repeating “you should find another guiding light but I shine so bright” seems like it’s her saying I’m not pure sunshine because I can’t be while I’m still in this pen. It just feels defeated.

The “mom” that is heard in the background 4x throughout the song. Just seems like Karlie.

Conclusion

Idk something about Dear Reader just feels like Karlie…but Idk this is all just a clown 🤡 analysis/theory thing.

I will probably do a more general parallel post at some point for this song.

#song analysis #dear reader 3am midnights #lyrical parallels #ts midnights stuff #karlzzz’s midnights

[egokillr]

ok the ask i sent was about how i realised evrything is because of me and that things that happened before arent my fault bc my ego was still in control. i realsied this yesterday but i felt lost and my mnd was kinda blank. i didnt know what to do. today it got worse, i feel like i lost the realisation i had. idk how to do anyting anymore. i urgently need to lave this place but no matter what i think of, im still not fully accepting me as god bc if i did, i'd be able to manifest effortlessly (1)

hi love!!

these feelings are normal when you have a huge spiritual realization like this. they will pass and you’ll move onto better things, i promise!! you never lose the realization because you know you experienced it, if that makes sense. i’ve been in a similar place before where i thought i didn’t like anything anymore and like know what to do. but what got me out of it is taking advantage of that blank state. taking the little things i do like and eventually i grew to love so many things

basically my advice to you is, start out small and be proud of the little successes. it’s a huge accomplishment that you even woke up today bae.

you’ve always been god. think of it this way. you created all of these things around you unconsciously, right? that in itself is so powerful and beautiful. and right now, you’re manifesting that you can’t manifest effortlessly. how do you get rid of this? well theres many ways to do so but what really helped me the most is detaching from my ego (or negative, intrusive thoughts, things i didn’t wanna be, etc.) those thoughts can still exist in your mind, but you’re consciously choosing not to identify with them. you’re just choosing that they don’t manifest basically. and by doing that, those old identifications will start to fall apart naturally. the ego is kind of like the 3d. it’s a manifestation of your past and the only way you can keep that conception of yourself alive is by choosing to identify with it. it doesn’t matter if it’s just a fleeting thought in your mind, that thought alone has no power, but you do.

basically, you are not your thoughts, you are the observer/ creator. the real you that will always remain is god. you decide what you are in this reality. so, if you want to be someone who manifests effortlessly you ARE that!! try to focus on your mental health and what’s best for you. remember you make the rules and the law is so personal.

if it helps, take baby steps. you don’t have to jump into the most incredible self concept ever right away, (although you can,) maybe just realizing that you’re just as powerful as anyone else can do wonders :)

#vic talks

[honeycombstrawberry]

OMG YOUR BLOG IS EJSJSKSJSKSJ EVERYTHING??? I have a request but it’s kinda stupid so no pressure or anything. Can you write Adrian x Reader where the reader is usually as chaotic as he is (except big brain) and is super sweet to him and listens to him info dump and stuff? But then they have to share a bed (cheap motel during a mission?? idk man) and he realizes that when the reader gets tired they’re super cuddley and touchey and even sweeter than normal calling him names like honey love angel etc. And maybe like. Cuddles throughout the course of the mission? Like eventually Adrian just gets used to it and yeah. Anyways sweet dreams/good morning/enjoy your afternoon. Remember to drink water :)

stuck on you

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)

rating: gen

word count: 762

one-sentence synopsis: adrian knows he's being dramatic, but he's serious when he thinks he'd sooner die than stop sleeping in the same bed as you.

author's note: i'm sorry this isn't long but i am very excited about this little drabble i wrote for your request!!!! i hope you are too!!!!!!!!

read on ao3!

Adrian wakes up in the middle of the night to a feeling that’s becoming all too familiar.

Actually, there are a whole slew of feelings that are part of his daily routine, at this point. Longing, and desire, and love, and affectionate, and want— a clawing, biting, gnawing want that eats at his stomach lining and tears out chunks of his heart when he’s trying not to pay attention.

The feeling he’s feeling now, though, is you. It’s your body, wrapped around his, clinging to him in sleep.

He exhales, the breath rattling out of him. It’s no use trying to steady himself; he learned that one pretty quick. When the two of you had first been assigned to split a room on a mission together, he’d been worried that you wouldn’t like it. You might listen to him talk, and you might engage with him constantly, and you might be the kindest person he’s ever met— at least when it comes to him— but other people have made no secret of the fact that they find him annoying. You never seem to, but years of being told that have reinforced the belief in his mind.

If the two of you were going to share a room, he was sure he was finally going to push you to your limit. Then, the only person who actually seemed to listen to him and spend time with him and like it— like him— would be gone, and he couldn’t risk that. He didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He’d had no choice, though, and you’d shared a room. Even worse— or, even better, but he didn’t want to admit it— there was only one bed, and you’d thrown yourself down on it, insisting the two of you share.

That was several missions ago. That was several months ago. The two of you are still sharing a room on missions, still sharing a bed.

You just— You got used to it. You both did. Even if the two of you aren’t— Well, you actually don’t know what you are to each other. But even if you’re not officially partners, you guess, you do love him. And he does love you.

And you have both gotten very used to sleeping together.

Adrian’s not sure what he’d do at this point if you stopped, actually. Maybe never sleep again, he thinks dramatically, but he believes it. Nobody touches him the way you do; nobody has ever touched him the way you do. He’s drunk on it constantly, always wanting more, needing your hands on him, your body touching his, just— in any way he can get. He’s starved for it, he needs it. He needs you.

You sigh in your sleep, as if you can hear the sheer force of his thoughts, shifting in response to the sudden tension roping through Adrian’s body. Your arm around his waist tightens, your face in his throat twisting up until he can feel your breath over his pulse point. You readjust again, letting your head drag down until it’s pillowed on his chest, ear over his heart.

In your sleep, you smile, and Adrian’s heart goes a little faster, throbbing right there against your ear. Your brow furrows, and you shift slightly, starting to blink awake.

In the darkness, you lift your head, seeking Adrian. His bright eyes meet yours through the shadows as you adjust.

“Hey,” you say, voice scratching. You clear your throat. Your ankles are tangled with his, and you stretch languidly against him, tucking closer into his hold. “What’s up, honey? Can’t sleep?”

Adrian’s racing heart pounds blood through his veins. He shakes his head, keeping his voice carefully low when he replies, “No. Just woke up.”

You make a soft humming noise, twisting up into him, twining your arm around his neck, hand reaching to tangle up in his hair. You tilt your head up and kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Close your eyes,” you murmur to him. “Go back to sleep.”

You let your eyes drift shut yourself, scratching your nails lightly along his scalp, feeling the soft pull of his hair along your fingers.

Before you fall asleep again, you feel Adrian’s lips in your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. He must think you’re already asleep, you realize. You can’t help the smile that pulls onto your lips, burrowing deeper into him, resolving to try a little bit harder tomorrow to get Adrian to finally crack and confess his feelings to you.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @ladyrebel25

#answered #anonymous #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #vigilante #peacemaker imagines #peacemaker imagine #peacemaker tv #peacemaker #dc #dcu #dceu #dc comics #honeycombstrawberry

[pastelwitchling]

Idk if you're taking any prompts still but I was wondering if you could write one where Bonnie and Clyde hurt Alex really bad like close to death where he has to be put in the pod to stop his condition getting worse but no one knows who did it but Micheal and isobel go into Alex mind to figure it out and find out it was them and Michael loses it - @feliciahawley2002 

&

Rin, I just read your latest fic, OMG it's perfect 🤩. I was wondering if you would/could write about a scene where Alex is severely injured (maybe by an unknown alien device) with no one having a chance to save him and the only way it's possible is through a Mindscape (with him and Michael of course). Hope this isn't too disconnected 😅. Thanks again for the wonderful fics you write and share with us every single day 🙌

Why, yes, I did get two prompts in, thank you 😎

***

                All Michael could see was Alex. Alex lying in a hospital bed, wrapped in blindingly-white sheets with thin tubes sticking out of his arms and a ventilator hiding the lower half of his face.

               Kyle was there in the room with him, checking vitals and referring back to his charts, a restless energy upon him as he worked. But Michael wasn’t allowed inside. Not yet at least.

               It had been hours since Michael had carried Alex in, frantic and calling for help, not knowing what was wrong with his boyfriend, only that Michael had found him passed out on his kitchen floor amidst broken glass after he’d missed work at Deep Sky, and their date, neither Michael nor Ramos making any headway in getting him on the phone, and that he wasn’t waking up no matter how hard or loudly Michael begged him to.

               Michael could still see the faint scrapes and cuts on Alex’s face and arms. He had no idea how hard he’d been clenching his jaw, or that he’d stopped breathing, until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he inhaled a shuddering breath of surprise. The entire hospital came alive in that instant, the distant phones ringing and intercom messages and chattering patients on other floors blaring in Michael’s ears.

               Isobel came to stand next to him. She wasn’t looking at Michael, but at Alex through the glass. “Liz is still at the lab,” she said. “Max is there with her, giving her blood samples to compare Alex’s to.”

               “You still think an alien did this?” Michael’s voice was hollow, frightening to his own ears.

               “If it had been anybody but Alex,” she said, “then no. But helping us as much as he has, and being a Manes at all . . . it’s gotten him plenty of enemies.”

               Michael flinched, and pinched the bridge of his nose to hide it. If Alex was here because of him . . . if Alex stayed asleep because of him . . .

               A door opened to their right, and Kyle stepped out, dark circles under his eyes, a clipboard in his hand.

               Michael was on him in an instant. “What’s wrong with him? Is he dying? Is he waking up soon?”

               Kyle sighed. He looked like he was keeping himself standing out of sheer force of will. Isobel seemed to realize this and came to stand at his side, taking his arm.

               “His neurons are nearly nonexistent,” he said. “The other wounds were surface, but this –”

               “Valenti,” Michael said, unable to help the edge in his voice. “I’m a physics genius, not a human anatomy expert. What does it mean if his neurons are gone?”

               “They’re not gone,” Kyle corrected. “They’re shrinking. When you’re depressed, neurons in your hippocampus shrink, which makes even basic tasks difficult. Alex’s have shrunk to an abnormal degree, so even waking up right now is impossible.”

               “Abnormal,” Isobel frowned. “You mean alien.”

               She and Michael shared a grim look, and Kyle seemed to understand right away. “Look, Alex has been dealing with depression his whole life,” he said. “He takes medication, he knows how to manage it. Even if he’d stopped taking his pills for years and wasn’t telling anybody, it shouldn’t have done something like this. It couldn’t have. So you want my professional opinion?”

               Kyle looked up and down the hall to make sure no one was overhearing. “Something else got to him today. The only way he’ll wake up . . . is if whatever part of him inside that’s trapped . . . breaks out.”

               He gave both of them very pointed looks as he said this, then straightened. “Well, I’m heading off for my break. I’ve already asked that this room not be disturbed . . . by anyone else. You can go ahead inside.”

               With a final glance at his best friend, Kyle turned to leave. Michael was already making his way to the door, Isobel at his heels.

               “Was that just me,” she said slyly, “or was Kyle suggesting a mindscape?”

               “Suggestion or not,” Michael said, taking the seats next to Alex’s bed and moving them as close as possible to him, “I agree. The only way we’re going to find out exactly what happened and get Alex out of this is if we enter his mind.”

               Isobel sat down in one of the chairs he’d pulled up, studying Michael. “How long have you been considering this?”

               “Since I brought him in,” he said. “A nurse came out after checking on him, said she had no idea what was happening in his head that made him drop into a . . .” Michael couldn’t even say the word coma. It felt too much like condemning Alex to one.

               He shook the idea from his head. Alex was going to be fine. Michael would wake him up if it was the last thing he ever did. He held out a hand to Isobel, who readily took it, then hesitated, and took Alex’s hand in his. Soon, Alex would hold his hand back. He was sure of it.

               As Isobel closed her eyes, reading to enter, Michael brought Alex’s hand to his lips, and against his knuckles he whispered, “I’ll bring you back. I’ll bring you home.”

               He kissed Alex’s knuckles, set their combined hands on the bed, and closed his eyes with Isobel. There was a feeling like someone pressing ice to his face, he blinked, and then opened his eyes to find himself and Isobel in a living room.

               Michael looked around, frowning. “Where are we?”

               Isobel tilted her head at a picture frame, but when she went to pick it up, her fingers went right through. In it was a tall man with blue eyes, four identical sons surrounding him and a woman at his side with slightly darker skin and a bright smile.

               “Isn’t that Alex?” she said, pointing at the picture.

               Michael looked, and sure enough, there Alex was. When he was maybe ten, that was, his arms around his mother’s shoulders, his smile small but genuine against her arm, like she was the only comfort he needed. Even Alex’s brothers seemed at ease, Flint’s hand ruffling Alex’s hair, Gregory posing with his new football letterman jacket, Clay laughing at something Jesse had evidently said right before they’d taken the picture.

               There were other pictures of Alex’s brothers on the bookshelves, mantel, but none more of Alex or his mother. There was a faint scuffling inside, and Michael heard a protest.

               Then there, just a few years older than her picture, was Mindy Manes, dragging a suitcase behind her and through the hallway. A boy followed, no older than twelve, hugging his own backpack like he’d grabbed it in a rush.

               “Alex, get back to your room,” Mindy said, her voice shaking and exasperated. She wouldn’t look at her son.

               “I’m coming!” Alex said stubbornly. “I’m coming with you and you can’t stop me!”

               “Honey,” Mindy tried, kneeling on the ground and grabbing his shoulders, still staring at his chest instead of his face. “Your dad needs you here –”

               “No, he doesn’t!” whined Alex. “He’s got Flint and – and Clay, and Greg! I wanna come with you!”

               “You don’t need to come with me, it’s just a little trip!”

               “You’re lying!” he screamed, his voice cracking and his eyes filling with tears. “YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE LEAVING US! I HEARD DAD SCREAMING LAST NIGHT, YOU’RE LEAVING!” He wiped his eyes stubbornly, but the tears kept falling. “You don’t like us anymore because of him, right? Well, I – I won’t be like him, I promise, I won’t be like him, mommy, I’ll stay with you, I don’t want you to go –”

               Mindy clenched her jaw, and pulled Alex in against her, hugging him tightly. “I would never leave you,” she promised in a fierce whisper against his hair. When she pulled back again, she cupped his cheek, and finally met his eyes. Michael at once realized why she’d been avoiding looking at her son, because the second she did, her expression faltered and her eyes filled with tears.

               “I . . . I need you to look after them,” she told him. “Not just your brothers . . . your father too. I need someone good to believe in him, Alex, because . . . I can’t anymore. I need you to stay here so you can protect them all. Besides . . . your father loves you . . . you don’t want to break his heart, do you?”

               Alex’s lower lip trembled, his shoulders shaking as he tried to stay angry, tried to keep the tears from falling, and failed at both.

               Mindy gripped his arms tighter and held his gaze. “No matter what, we can’t give up on the people we love, right? Even if we’re scared, we have to be strong. Even . . . even if we can’t stay . . . we have to come back . . . right?”

               Alex didn’t seem happy with what his mother was telling him, but begrudgingly nodded once. He hugged his backpack tighter. “S-So . . . you’ll – you’ll come back?”

               Mindy hesitated, opened her mouth, and –

               “What’s going on here?” a voice said, and Michael, Isobel, Mindy, and twelve-year-old Alex turned to the door where Jesse Manes stood.

               Jesse’s eyes lingered on Mindy’s suitcase for a long time, then they lifted to Alex and his backpack. He stormed up to them, standing between them.

               “You’re not taking my son,” he told her, a light blazing in his eyes.

               Mindy stood straight, her eyes on Jesse not cold or indifferent, but almost . . . pitying. “He’s my son too, Jesse. I hope you remember that.”

               The scene changed. Michael and Isobel were in a desert, a large silver base to their right. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Michael heard Isobel sniffle. He knew she was crying, but he couldn’t think of any way to comfort her. His own eyes prickled when he thought about Alex’s tears, his stubbornness to follow his mom, his mom not wanting him to and never promising that she would come back for him. Michael, it seemed, hadn’t been the first who had ever turned him away.

               “Alex?” Isobel croaked, and Michael instinctively looked up. A lone figure stood outside the base, his back to Isobel and Michael. They shared a look and approached him.

               Alex was wearing a soldier’s fatigues, clearly eighteen or so, and was hitting his forehead on the wall, muttering to himself. Michael frowned. He’d never seen Alex like this. He reached out, and his fingers went right through Alex’s shoulder.

               “What’s he doing?” Isobel whispered, concerned.

               Michael shrugged and leaned in until he could hear what Alex was saying.

               “One more day . . .” Alex told himself hoarsely, like he’d spent the past several hours crying. “One more day . . . one more day . . .” Alex kept doing this until the tears fell and his voice shook.

Michael’s heart broke, but he didn’t answer understand what Alex was saying. One more day until training ended? One more day until he flew a plane for the first time? Then, his forehead still pressed to the wall, he slid down to a crouch, hugging his knees. A sob shattered his words and they faded away to something else.

               Isobel came to kneel on his other side to hear him better. “What’s he saying?” she breathed.

               “Help . . . me . . .” Alex cried through clenched teeth. “Please . . . someone help me . . .”

               Isobel released a shaky breath, eyes wide as she looked up at Michael. Michael couldn’t share her look, but he knew she was as shocked as he was. Alex never cried like this, let alone asked for help. Suddenly, the one more day plea made a lot of sense. It wasn’t that Alex would be done with the military in a day. He was asking for strength for one more day.

               Had he been doing this the entire time he’d been gone? Asking for help just to get through the next day? Michael briefly considered the alternative, and flinched. He wanted to wrap his arms around Alex now, hug him tight against him, and promise him that things were going to get better. . . .

               Then the scene changed again. Michael knew at once where they were, and couldn’t help the relieved smile that split his lips at the sight of Alex, his Alex in modern day, doing the dishes, a phone caught between his ear and shoulder.

               “Guerin, shut up!” Alex laughed, and Michael moved closer to him at the sound. He remembered that laugh from just this morning. “You expect me to go to work with that?”

               “This is –” Isobel started, “Is this today?”

               Michael nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed, remembering the dirty things he’d said, the things he’d wanted to do to Alex tonight, and the way Alex, who’d initially been inexplicably numb, had laughed heartily. Michael had felt such pride at being able to do it, especially now at seeing his real, genuine smile.

               Alex bit his lower lip, blushing. “I love you,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to see you –” He cut off as a knock sounded on the door. “Er – I gotta go. . . . Okay. . .” he laughed, “Yes, I love you too.”

               Alex finished the dishes, hung up the phone, and pocketed it, brows furrowed at the insistent knocking. He clearly hadn’t been expecting company.

               “This is it,” Michael breathed, staying at Alex’s heels, as Isobel prepared herself. He felt an anxious dread rising in his chest. He would finally know what happened.

               Somehow, when Alex opened the door to find Bonnie and Clyde standing on the other side, Michael wasn’t surprised.

               “Hello, Alex,” Clyde said with that polite smile of his as he and Bonnie let themselves in.

               “Come on in,” Alex muttered, watching them warily.

               Bonnie stopped in front of him, put a hand on his chest, and said, “You smell nice today.”

               “Er – thanks,” Alex said, and as he closed the door behind him, Michael saw one hand reach for his phone in his back pocket. Michael knew Alex had never completely trusted Bonnie and Clyde.

               “Why’s he letting them in?” Isobel breathed. “They did this, Michael, why would Alex let them in?!”

               “Because . . .” Michael wrenched the words out. “I asked him to . . .”

               “What?”

               “Alex never trusted them, but I wanted to,” said Michael. “Lately . . . I don’t know, I just didn’t know what to believe, but I – I wanted to trust them, Isobel, and . . . I asked Alex to give them a chance . . . for me.”

               Isobel said nothing, but looked from Michael to Bonnie and Clyde.

               “What is this about?” Alex told them. “I can’t stay long, I have work soon, so –”

               “Oh we won’t be long,” Bonnie assured him. “We just wanted to talk to you.”

               “About what?”

               “Michael.”

               Alex stopped reaching for his phone. “Michael?”

               “He’s hiding something from you, Alex,” Clyde said softly. “Something he asked us not to tell you.”

               Alex faltered. “W-What?”

               Isobel rounded on Michael. “What’re they talking about?”

               Michael shook his head, indignant. “They’re – they’re lying!”

               “The truth is,” Clyde said heavily, “Michael doesn’t trust you, Alex.”

               Alex clenched his jaw, and ducked his head, hands on his hips. He didn’t seem too shocked by this announcement.

               “Alex, no!” Michael tried. “They’re lying!” But Alex still couldn’t hear him.

               “He’s found another use for the alien glass he’s collected,” Clyde went on, “a way to call home – our home, that is – and he doesn’t think he should tell you.” He gave a small, sympathetic chuckle, “You don’t exactly have the best track record after all for trusting people.”

               Alex shook his head, lips pursed.

               “Alex!” Michael pleaded, trying to take his arm and being unable to. “Alex, please, don’t – don’t listen to them, they’re lying!”

               But Alex wasn’t looking at him.

               “We know it must hurt,” Bonnie said from somewhere to Alex’s left, “but we thought . . . you’ve done so much for him . . . you deserve the truth. I’m sorry he just doesn’t appreciate –”

               Alex cut them off, stepping back and pulling out his gun, aiming it at them. Silence fell. So that’s why his hands had been on his hips.

               “If you think,” Alex said darkly, “that I would ever believe a word of that, then you clearly didn’t do your research on either me . . . or Michael.”

               “That’s my boy,” Isobel said fiercely, coming to his side against them.

               “That’s my boy,” Michael said proudly, then faltered. “Wait . . . Alex loses this battle . . .” He looks back at Bonnie and Clyde. “How does he lose this battle?”

               “Pity,” Clyde said in that still dazed voice. “We’d hoped to have you as a friend, Alex. But if we can’t have you both, one of you will do.”

               His attention on Clyde, Alex didn’t notice Bonnie flick a hand up. His gun went shooting out of his hand and into the closet of glass cups, shattering them all and scattering them across the tiled floor.

               In his haste to shield himself from the glass, Alex wasn’t able to stop Clyde as he got close enough and pressed a hand to Alex’s head. Alex’s eyes widened in a gasp, and he collapsed.

               Clyde and Bonnie stared down at him, the way Michael had found him, his gun hidden under the shattered pantry shelves.

               “Should we have killed him?” Bonnie said indifferently.

               “Dead, Michael’s broken,” Clyde said, tilting his head. “Alive, and he’s still useful.”

               The scene changed on them, but Michael thought he was trembling too hard to see in front of him. They kept Alex alive because they thought they could keep using Michael that way? They would’ve killed him otherwise?

               He could only see darkness, blinded by his anger. Alex had been right this entire time. Michael had refused to listen, but Alex had been right.

               “I – I can’t see anything,” Isobel said, grabbing Michael’s hand.

               Michael realized the darkness wasn’t his own rage, but it was actually there. He frowned, squinting through it.

               “Where are we?”

               “It’s colder here,” Isobel murmured, clutching Michael more tightly. “Heavier.” The longer she spoke, the more numb she sounded. The moment Michael realized where they were, he spotted Alex.

               Curled up in a small patch of light barely big enough for him to sit in, Alex was hugging his knees, his head buried between them.

               “Alex!” Michael called, running towards him, but Alex did not pick up his head. Michael fell to his knees in front of him. “Alex, come on,” he grabbed Alex’s arms and shook him slightly. “Alex, please, look up! It’s me!”

               Slowly, Alex lifted his gaze. “M-Michael?” his voice sounded weak, far away, and he was looking right through Michael like he couldn’t see him at all.

               “Michael,” Isobel sounded weaker herself, hugging herself more tightly. “It’s – it’s getting colder.”

               Michael clenched his jaw and shook Alex more roughly. “Wake up! Look at me, Alex, look at me! I’m right here, I’m right here for you, just look at me!”

               But Alex was already lowering his head again. “I’m too tired . . .”

               “Alex!” Michael tried, but Alex wasn’t listening to him anymore.

               “M-Michael . . .” Isobel was shivering now, falling to her knees. If anyone was going to feel Alex’s pain, it was going to be the strongest empath between them. “We’re losing him . . .”

               Michael clenched his jaw. Think, Guerin, he warned himself. He’d felt pain before, he’d felt this nothingness – what had helped? What had saved him?

               Clenching his jaw, Michael could only think of one thing. One thing that gave him the most happiness to think about . . . and the most regret. He started to sing the same song Alex had once sung to him in a crowded cowboy bar.

               His voice seemed to echo around the darkness in a way his screams hadn’t. He was not singing well, his notes were completely off-key, his voice rough where Alex’s was smooth, but he remembered every word, every feeling it gave him, and he poured all of that into the song.

               Alex didn’t look up at once, but the circle of light around him started to widen. The hope and happiness he’d clung to spreading. When Alex did look up again, his cheeks were flushed, his brows pinched. Michael kept singing, not wanting to risk breaking the rhythm, but even he could feel the comforting warmth cut through the heavy cold.

               Alex’s brows pinched as he searched Michael’s face, like he was searching for the source of the music, his lips already muttering the words along with Michael, remembering them.

               Then his gaze focused, and he stopped singing.

               “Michael?” Alex breathed, sounding much more like himself. Michael thought it safe to stop singing too, and a single cry followed his song. He didn’t even notice that they were now in the middle of the desert where they used to go to make love under the stars, the light around them bright and comforting.

               “Alex.”

               Alex reached out a hand to touch Michael’s face, and Michael leaned in at the same time to kiss him hungrily –

Then he blinked, and he and Isobel were both back in the hospital room, like they’d never left.

               Michael barely registered Isobel shaking her head, getting her bearings back, before Alex sat up abruptly in his bed, eyes wide. Half a second later he seemed to notice the ventilator and clawed at it to get it off.

               “Alex,” Michael breathed, standing up to help him and as soon as the ventilator was off, Michael crashed their mouths together, sending a startled Alex back onto the bed.

               Alex whimpered and squirmed against him, and as soon as Michael pulled back, Alex was gasping for breath, one hand on Michael’s chest to keep some distance, the other clutching his jacket so that there wasn’t too much of it.

               “Hi, beautiful,” Michael gasped, pressing their foreheads together even as his eyes prickled. He huffed a cry, and his voice cracked, “Hi, baby.”

               “I’ll – I’ll go tell Kyle he’s awake,” Isobel said, and Michael could hear the relief and happiness in her voice. “I’ll go tell him.”

               “Guerin,” Alex tried when Isobel had gone, panting heavily. “Guerin, Bonnie and – and Clyde, they –”

               “I know,” Michael growled. “I know, Alex, and I’m gonna kill ‘em. I’m gonna kill ‘em both for what they did to you. I’ll kill them –”

               “No, just –” Alex shook his head, and his hand holding onto Michael’s jacket came around his waist, keeping him close. “Just stay here. Stay here, okay?”

               “I’m right here,” Michael promised, settling for now on a kiss to Alex’s forehead, each of his eyes, his nose, his cheekbones. Alex laughed wearily, and Michael felt the last bit of weight on his chest lessen slightly. “I love you,” he breathed.

               “I love you too,” Alex murmured, his nails digging into Michael’s back through his shirt as if to make sure he was still there. He leaned back, smiling. “You sang to me.”

               Michael blushed at the thought, brushing Alex’s cheeks with his thumbs. His back ached from bending like this for a long time, but he didn’t care.

               “Yeah, I – er – I don’t have the best voice.”

               But Alex was already shaking his head, the look in his eyes so loving that Michael found his next words caught in his throat.

               “Your voice,” Alex told him softly, “is my favorite sound in the world.” He huffed a shaky laugh, revealing how scared he actually had been. “Thank you for saving me, Guerin.”

               Michael pressed their foreheads together hard. He had so much he wanted to tell Alex. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you before. You’re always saving me. I can’t live without you.

               “I’ve got you, Alex,” he whispered instead, a promise. “I’ve always got you.”

***

Happy birthday to my favorite angry cowboy (and son of Apollo), Michael Vlamis 🎂❤

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

[starryevermore]

to save me from tears ✧ bucky barnes

twelve days of christmas | angst city™ library

request: Hi! I saw your post abt winter-y requests and I had an idea for bucky, I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing something about Bucky and reader going to a Christmas party in readers hometown with all her friends and Bucky like looks around at everyone and their lives and he feels like he doesn’t fit in // like he’s not good enough for her? Idk why insecure bucky is in my mind rn. Feel free to change whatever you want and of course no pressure to write it! I love your blog and writing :) thanks for reading ily

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky’s nervous about meeting your family for the first time. 

word count: 491

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, insecure bucky, feelings of not being good enough, not proofread

note: this was written between november 8-19, 2021.

It was the first Christmas you and Bucky would be going to your hometown. You had been dating for a couple years now, but you had only spent Christmas together in either one of your apartments, stuck in the city, never experiencing the good ole Christmases you were used to growing up. But after two years of dating, your family decided it was high time that you and Bucky spent Christmas with the whole family.

Bucky, though you knew he wouldn’t say anything, was more nervous than you’d ever seen him before. You could tell from the moment you’d left for the airport, how he kept checking and rechecking the bags, trying to find some excuse to go back to the apartment and miss the flight. But any time you asked if he was okay, he’d insist that he was fine, that you didn’t need to worry about him. 

That only made you worry more. 

“Bucky, seriously,” you said, as you got in the rental car. “I’m not leaving this parking lot until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, but his eyes betrayed him. They were wide, but tired, swimming with some sort of emotion he couldn’t quite process yet, much like how he looked when he’d wake up from a nightmare. 

“Baby, please. I’m not going to judge you for...feeling whatever you’re feeling. I want to help you, but I can’t do that until you tell me what’s got you all tore up.”

He blinked, looking away. You were almost ready to ask again, but he sighed and said, “I’m scared.”

“Of what, baby?”

“If your family, your friends, don’t like me. If they think you can do better. Or, worse, your parents invite over your first love and you realize that, actually, you still love them and that you don’t want me, and then you leave me to live out some Hallmark fantasy without me. And then I’ll have to go to the city and pretend I didn’t lose the best thing that ever happened to me while you’re out living your happily ever after.”

“...I really shouldn’t have let you watch all those Hallmark movies before coming here, huh?” you said. He let out a quiet laugh. “Baby, trust me, you’re my happily ever after. And I don’t care if my friends and family don’t like you. I’m the only one who has to like you, ‘cause I’m the one who wants to spend the rest of my life with you. If they don’t approve, screw them. If they invite my first love, screw them. You’re the one who makes me happy. And I’m not going to just throw that all away.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. I-I think I’m ready to meet your family.”

“Good. ‘Cause they’re gonna love you.”

“Your love is the only love I need.”

“See, if you keep saying cute shit like that, they’re bound to think you’re the best!”

#12doc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

[jackrrabbit]

Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.

A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌

I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.

➠ see also: [homeowners association]

Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*

Dabi would know you anywhere.

You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.

It’s you. You. You.

You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.

Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.

This is going to be fun.

Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.

Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.

Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.

You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.

He doesn’t forgive you.

Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.

You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.

When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.

Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.

He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.

A monster. A freak. A victim.

“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”

Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.

…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.

You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.

Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.

Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.

He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.

Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.

Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?

You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.

God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?

It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.

He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.

Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.

You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.

You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.

When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.

It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.

Until you didn’t.

‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.

And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.

Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.

He lights the cigarette anyway.

///

Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?

He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.

When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?

If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.

In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.

In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.

In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.

(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.

And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)

Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.

///

Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.

Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.

Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.

On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.

It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.

Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.

You used to say that to Dabi.

The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.

It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.

Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.

It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.

How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?

So say it. Say you love him.

Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.

You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.

And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—

“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”

And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—

—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—

—please stay, forever.

///

When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.

You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?

Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.

Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.

By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—

—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.

It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.

He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.

Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?

///

Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.

The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.

Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.

Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.

///

Whore. Your husband called you a whore.

You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.

He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.

So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.

The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.

Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.

Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.

The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.

Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?

But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.

Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.

“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.

Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.

“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”

Just like back then.

“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”

///

In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.

You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.

But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.

Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #yandere dabi x reader #yandere dabi #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #dabi #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha x reader #smut #yandere #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #tw dubcon #tw noncon

[weebswrites]

Heyy! I recently came across your blog and a absolutely love your writing! 🥰

Would it be possible to request an angst hc with the Obey me brothers? So maybe the bros were having a bad day and they lash out at the MC. The MC leaves them alone and the brothers don’t hear from them for hours and think MC just doesn’t want to talk to them but in reality MC got attacked and is barely alive. And maybe MC summons the brother with what little strength they have left so the brother is met with an MC laying in front of them almost dead.

Ah I’m sorry I know this is a lot so feel free to ignore this if it’s too much! Have a good day :D

A/N: YES YES YES I LOVE THIS THANK YOU ANON

The Demon Bros Saving Your Life (this will have swear words and light descriptions of violence so if that makes you uncomfortable read at your own discretion pls I love u guys)

Lucifer

“MC, please just leave me alone” he spat, trying to stay calm but losing his patience quickly

“Lucifer, I’m not letting you shove me away. You can do that to your brothers, but not to me” you insist, remembering your conversation where he said to ignore him when he tried to push you away

“I’ll do what I want to you, human, don’t forget your place” he boomed, so loud your eyes reactively filled with tears

“Fine, do what you want” you mutter at him before storming out, slamming the door behind you

He knew he fucked up, but wasn’t in the headspace to chase after you, so he stayed in his office and worked. He’d apologize later

You ran out of the HoL, just wanting to be out of Lucifer’s reach for a bit. You decide to go to Purgatory Hall to visit Simeon, your best friend outside of the HoL, but take the scenic route there to clear your head a bit and calm down. Before you know it the sun is setting, and figure you should get to Simeon’s sooner rather than later.

“Hey, aren’t you Lucifer’s bitch” you hear from an alleyway, and suddenly you’re just as annoyed as before. But you know better than to engage with any demons that are egging you on like that, so you keep walking

Then you’re grabbed from behind and slammed against a brick wall, hitting your head roughly against the surface

“Fuck” you exhale, vision already blurring

“Think you can ignore me, human? You’re weak here, nothing” the demon drove a fist into your stomach, causing you to cough

“I’ll show you not to come back to the Devildom ever again, filthy human”

By the time he was done you were a bloody mess crumpled on the ground, in the fetal position to protect your vital organs as much as you could, but you felt yourself losing consciousness

The demon spat on you before leaving, laughing as he walked away. Your body was in so much pain, and you felt yourself losing your grip on reality

You could felt your lips moving as your vision turned to black, and your last coherent thought before blacking out was realizing you were summoning Lucifer

“I...summon the Avatar of Pride...” you inhaled as much as you could, but his name came out a whisper, “Lucifer”

You saw his legs appear before you lost consciousness, thankful you were actually able to summon him

“What the fuck” was his first comment, as he didn’t see you at his feet, but as soon as he did he felt his heart shatter

“MC! Fuck, MC. MC?” he shook you very lightly, and when you didn’t respond he went into overdrive. He picked you up gently in his arms after examining where you were most badly injured, as to not make anything worse

He was in demon form from the moment he saw you, wanting as much of his strength at his disposal as he could have. He flew you to the nearest hospital (idk if there’s a hospital in the devildom but there is now) and demanded you be placed in the best care possible, and also made it very clear that he wasn’t going to leave your side

He watched as doctors sewed your wounds closed and put an IV in your arm, unable to take his eyes off their every move. After a few hours, the doctor turned to Lucifer

“They should wake up within a few hours,” the doctor said before leaving

“Thank you. Please mail the bill to Lord Diavolo and I’ll take care of it” he said, figuring that was easier than having to fill out the HoL on paperwork

He was then alone with you, and he scooted his chair next to your bed and took your hand in his, holding it gently

“I’m so sorry, MC” he whispered and pressed his lips to the top of your hand as he tried not to cry

He sat there for what felt like hours, but just twenty minutes passed before he felt you move slightly

Your eyes fluttered open, and you took a moment to adjust to the lights

You felt warmth around your hand, and recognized it instantly, looking to your side and locking eyes with Lucifer

“Luci” you whisper, voice hoarse from not having used it for hours

“MC, I’m so sorry” his voice was soft and you could tell how distraught he was, “I never should have snapped at you, it was out of place and rude and I’m sorry” he rambled on like this for a minute, and you just appreciated his genuine care for you as you listened to him speak

“Lucifer” you cut him off, “Thank you for taking care of me. I forgive you”

Mammon

“Just get a job! Then your brothers won’t shit on you all the time” you suggested. Mammon had come to you venting about how some of his brothers had ganged up on him again and demanded that they pay him back. You were more understanding than you probably should have been with him, but wanted him to be proactive and get himself out of this on his own

“It isn’t that easy! Damnit MC, I thought you understood me!” he snapped, and you decided you should just let him cool down

“Look, Mammon. I’m always here for you with this, but you can’t keep complaining about this and not doing anything about it when there’s an easy solution. I have to go study with Satan for a test we have, so I’m going to go meet him. Text me when you’ve calmed down”

You meant it to be caring, but his mind was clouded, and he took it as you pitying him and running away - his greatest fear

“Fine!” he huffed, turning his back to you

You were saddened by this, but genuinely had to go, so you turned and left, thankful for the bit of time that you knew Mammon needed alone to clear his head

You were walking to the library, in the middle of a text to Satan when you accidentally bumped into another demon

“Shit, my bad” you apologize, but the demon had no intention of letting you get away with that

“A human, eh?” he grabbed your shirt collar and instantly drove a fist to your jaw

“What the fuck” you tried to say, but couldn’t really speak

The demon punched you a few more times, and you thought that they had the strength of Beel with how much it hurt

Your body was tossed to the ground and kicked before being abandoned, and you wished you didn’t take the back way to the library

“I summon the Avatar of Greed, Mammon” you whispered, hoping your words were enunciated enough for the summoning to work

“MC!” he noticed you instantly, crouching down and putting a hand on your arm, “MC what happened. Wait don’t talk, can you stand?”

You began to sit up, which he took as a yes, and he wrapped his arm around you to help you stand

He studied your injured face as you stood, and wished he had the power to heal you instantly

“Come on MC, the hospital is close”

“T-Text Satan I’m not coming” you handed him your phone, not wanting Satan to think that you ditched him

Mammon exhaled a laugh through his nose, “You’re always thinking of others, MC” he commented, “We really don’t deserve you”

You just shook your head, feeling like you didn’t deserve the joy the demons brought you

Mammon stayed by your side until you were completely healed, which took a few weeks. He even signed up for a job with Akuzon DC. It was the most selfless you’d ever seen him, and you thanked him for his kindness once you were healed with a gift card to his favorite store

Leviathan

“Just stop! I get it, you have other friends, I don’t care. Go have fun with them” he snapped. Levi hadn’t slept in about 48 hours and you could tell

“Levi, please sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours” you try to comfort him, but he isn’t hearing it

“Whatever, MC”

You’re hurt by his attitude, but know he’s just exhausted. You turn to leave and plan to head back to him a bit sooner to spend extra time with him (quality time love language lookin demon) (also the avatar of envy but that’s not as funny of a joke so)

You were planning to meet with some classmates to study, but you ran into a demon on your way that had been bullying you for being human for the whole semester

You hadn’t told any of the brothers because you didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but you were worried suddenly what the demon would do to you outside of the school grounds

“Hey, it’s the human” she snarled, stepping in front of you to stop your path

“Sorry, I’m busy” you tried to walk around her, but she had no intention of letting you go unscathed

“Not so fast” she stomped her foot over yours to stop you and shoved you back against a light pole nearby

You felt the cold metal slam against your spine and grunted in discomfort

“Can’t take a little pain? That’s too bad” she said, taking you by your shirt and  throwing your body on the road

She kicked your body for what felt like minutes while spitting insults at you, before leaving your weakened body on the ground

You tried to get up once she was gone but screamed in pain, not able to move a muscle

“I summon the Avatar of Envy, Leviathan,” you said, tears starting to run down your face at his name

“Levi, Levi please, help me” you whispered as he appeared

“MC, I’m here” he kneeled down beside you and inspected your body, “I’m here, don’t worry”

“Levi” your hand tightened around his jacket, “Help”

He picked you up, maintaining your position in his arms, and took you to the hospital as fast as he could while keeping you comfortable

He stayed by your side as much as he was legally allowed to while the doctors cared for your torso and x-rayed your foot. After a day or so you were allowed home, and he insisted that he stayed by your side until you were completely healed

Satan

“MC, I’ve asked you eight times to leave me alone, I’m clearly trying to read, can’t you take the hint?” he sighed exasperatedly and waited for you to leave, not intending his words to be so harsh but he figured you’d be fine

You were not fine! What the fuck Satan.

“Fine, screw you then” you retorted and left, slamming the door behind you

He realized that you weren’t fine, but wanted to finish his book. Then he’d apologize. But when we went to your room later that night to talk, you didn’t answer.

“MC, come on, open up. I’m sorry for earlier, can we just talk?”

Beelzebub was walking by, “I haven’t seen them since this morning, they left the house crying” he said awfully casually, “I never saw them come back”

Satan felt the blood drain from his face and he ran out of the HoL, ignoring Beel’s “I’m sure they’re fine now!” from behind him

He barely made it out of the doors before he was summoned, and he was confused before he realized the only way he could be summoned was by you

As soon as he was there he saw you, thrown against a dumpster, barely able to hold yourself up

“Satan” you called, voice weak, and he was at your side in less than a second

He stood in front of you and you got on his back, wrapping your arms over his neck

“Tell me what happened. Who did this” his voice was firm and you could almost feel the anger radiating off him

You muttered a name under your breath before resting your head on his shoulder, trying everything you could to not pass out

“Satan, talk to me. I can’t stay awake”

That scared him, so he walked to the hospital a bit faster, but gently still as to not cause you any extra pain

He started telling you about his book since that was all he did that day, but it ended up turning into a long apology for pushing you away and raising his voice earlier. You would have cut him off but you didn’t have the strength to, so you just listened to his words, noticing the thought he had clearly put into them throughout the day

“Satan-” you started, and he instantly stopped to listen, “I forgive you”

He was silent, a sense of relief and appreciation for you washing over him and he thanked you for your understanding of his anger as you arrived at the hospital

Similar to Lucifer, he demanded you to be seen by the best doctor there was on staff, price be damned. He watched intensely as the doctor checked you out, eyeing them up and down to make sure they were good enough and treating you with the same care he would

Once you were released he had Diavolo send a car to drive the two of you back to the HoL, where Satan had had your room prepared with new pillows (the kind you mentioned liking from his room, as well as new ones of the ones you had), freshly washed sheets and duvet, and a cup of your favorite drink waiting for you (he definitely didn’t bribe his brothers to get your room ready, not that it took much bribing)

In addition, each of the brothers had pitched in to get you flowers and a stuffed animal that you’d mentioned wanting, a few weeks ago. The sight of it all made you tear up, and you wrapped Satan in the tightest hug he’d ever gotten

Asmodeus

“I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, MC, but I just need some time by myself,” he said, and you could tell he was losing his patience

“Are you sure?” you offer one last time before leaving, wanting to make sure he really wanted to be alone

“Yes! I am!” he snapped, and you felt bad for pushing

“Sorry, Asmo. Feel better” you leave and take care to close the door as quietly as you can on your way out

You were having a bit of a bad day yourself, so you decide to go walk around the devildom and let the fresh air clear your head

Which ended up being a bad idea, as you ran into one of the demons that always hit on you in one of your classes.

“Hey, MC, you finally aren’t with any of those idiot brothers” he approached you and tried to touch your arm, but you pushed it away

“Oh, they’re fiesty. I’ll have to teach you a lesson” he spat on the ground next to you and before you knew it he pushed you against a wall and was punching you senseless

It felt like he’d never stop, but eventually it did, and he left you to bleed on the road. You tried to stand up, not thinking your injuries would be that servere, but you couldn’t move. You sighed and closed your eyes, exhaustion suddenly washing over you

You knew you probably had a concussion and some broken ribs, and that you shouldn’t lose consciousness, so you did the only thing you could think to do. You summoned Asmo.

“I summon the Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus” you spoke, and there he was

“MC! Babes, what happened? Where are you hurt” he knelt in front of you and looked over your body

“Ribs...and my head...” you whined, leaning forward for him to take you in his arm

Asmodeus was stronger than you realized, and he picked you up easily and started walking you back to the HoL. “Let’s get you laying down and I’ll call a doctor” he said gently, “Then Satan and I will take care of the idiot who did this”

Until you were healed he was by your side, bringing you anything you even thought of wanting and getting the classwork you missed from your classes

Beelzebub

“Hey Beel, what’s up!” you walked into the kitchen and greeted your favorite demon cheerily

He grunted, usually a sign that he should be left alone, but you wanted some Beel time and figured you’d just be cautious and give him his space

“How was your day” you asked innocently

“Not now, MC. I’m not in the mood” his voice was firm, and you took the message

“Got it, I’ll leave” you said apologetically, and left the kitchen. You were a bit upset by him pushing you away, but knew he just needed space. You decided to walk to get takeout for dinner, and made your way to the restaurant on your own.

That was a mistake. You weren’t even halfway there when you figured later you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time

“Is that a human? Here?” you heard from across the road, and sighed, hoping to get off easy

“Hey, human!” the demons walked over to you and you stopped, deciding to at least acknowledge them so they’d think they could insult you and move along

“Wow, I’ve never met a human in real life before” one of them smirked, “I wonder just how weak they really are”

“I wouldn’t test it, just because I’m a human doesn’t mean I don’t know some demons who would make your lives miserable if you hurt me”

The other demon scoffed, “You’re lying. What demon would befriend a human”

You were getting irritated at the attitude being thrown at you, so you decided to fight back with a little sass of your own, “Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, and Lord Diavolo, to name a few” you smirked and crossed your arms

“Bullshit” one of the two demons got in your face, “there’s no way a demon like that would look twice at you”, and before you could begin to think of a comeback you felt a sharp pain in your side

You looked down to see a gash in your side, thankfully seeming to not have hit an organ, but it was still bleeding pretty badly. You didn’t know what to do, but didn’t really have the chance to do much because a few strong punches were delivered to your core immediately after

“Fuck” you mumbled as you crumpled to the ground, and heard the demons laughing as they walked away. You felt yourself bleeding pretty heavily, and knew you wouldn’t be able to make it back to the HoL

“I summon the Avatar of Gluttony. Beelzebub” you said, hoping you remembered how to use your pact correctly

He appeared before you and you let out a sigh of relief, then wincing in pain at your own action

“MC!” he instantly took off his grey hoodie and pressed it to your wound, “There’s an underground hospital close, is it safe for me to lift you or can you walk”

“I think I can walk, but can you keep an arm around me” you ask, and he obviously does

You get to the hospital and are instantly checked in and brought to a care room. Beel holds your hand and lets you squeeze it as tightly as you need as your wound is sewn up, and then the nurses give you pain medication for the next few weeks

You didn’t know the names of the demons who hurt you, but Lucifer found out easily with his many connections, and he and the rest of his siblings, along with Lord Diavolo, made sure that the two demons never so much as thought about you ever again

Belphegor

“Belphie, please let me in” you knocked on his door again, not knowing what had caused him to storm off in the first place

The door opened, but before you could say anything Belphie was talking

“MC, I’m fucking pissed right now, and the last person I want to be around is you” his voice was sharp, and you almost teared up at how genuine his words seemed

“Fine, okay, I’m sorry for trying to help” you responded before turning and running down the stairs from his room in the attic, wanting to give him space but also run away from him

You were going to try not to cry, but as soon as you stepped outside the HoL you couldn’t hold back anymore. Sniffling, you walked to the park nearby to sit at a bench and think. You pulled out your D.D.D. to text Beelzebub and ask him to check up on Belphie, but didn’t even unlock it before someone sat down next to you

You didn’t recognize who it was, and you wiped under your eyes as the demon began to speak

But they didn’t say anything near what you expected. Well, you didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t to be called a filthy human by a stranger

The demon proceeded to call you names, but you were too mentally exhausted to fight back, so you just sat and listened as they tried to get a reaction from you

“What, aren’t you listening to me? Stupid human” and the demon started punching you. Hard.

You tried to fight back at first, but compared to the strength of a demon you couldn’t really do much. Once you started losing consciousness the other demon left you to sit, laughing at your wounds

You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t want to bother Belphie if he was still in a bad mood, but you needed help. You pulled out your D.D.D. and saw a text from him, reading: ‘MC, I’m sorry. Please come back, give me a chance to explain’

As you couldn’t move, you realized your only option was to summon him, so that’s exactly what you did

“I summon the Avatar of Sloth, Belphegor” you suddenly got nervous, unsure why since you and Belphie were so close, but you knew he’d help you no matter what

“MC? MC holy shit” he sat next to you on the bench and you instantly leaned into him and started sobbing

“MC I’m so sorry, this never should have happen” he had an arm around you

You sniffled, “It isn’t your fault, I was just clearing my head” you reassured him, still hurt by his previous words but not at all blaming him for the other demon’s attack

He brought you back to the HoL and gave you ice packs for the bruises that were starting to surface, making sure you had everything you needed for the next many days until you were healed

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

A/N: This took me longer than I thought it would to write but I also kept taking breaks and had three classes today lol. But here it is !!! I love writing angst hehe so this was really fun

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #lucifer x mc #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #obey me leviathan #leviathan x mc #obey me satan #satan x mc #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x mc #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x mc #obey me belphegor #belphegor x mc

[imagineryupfuckedworld]

Are you okay?

Fandom: Solo Leveling Genderneutral Reader Pairing: Sung Jin Woo x Reader TW: Uhm mention of blood, depression, abandonment Part 1? Idk

You always knew he was something special. Even though it needed time to come through. It needed time to become, what he is now. Like a Diamond who once was coal, he now shines brighter than anyone. Maybe “shine” is the wrong word, but regardless, everyone now knows it. Everyone can finally see it. The way you always saw him. Sung Jin Woo finally broke through the shell that was around him. You never knew why he changed. What happened, except what was heard from others. After his major change Jin Woo begun to keep his distance. Maybe it was unintentional, maybe not. But he keeps drifting apart from you. Week to Week, day to day, hour to hour. No more daily calls till one fell asleep. No more patching him up and scolding him lightly because you were so worried about him. No more Bubbleteas and weekly get together. No more need to help him pay for the hospital bills and rent. No more anything. Jin Woo now reached a World, were you can’t be a part of it anymore. You aren’t a Hunter. So you can’t even support him in that matter. Helping him to pay off the bills was one of the only things you could do to support him but even now that isn’t needed anymore. Not to mention being emotional support when he needed it. He doesn’t need you anymore. Or so you feel. He doesn’t call anymore. He doesn’t tell you about the dungeons, how his family is. He doesn’t reminisce about old days with you anymore. Not even a text that he is okay, alive, unharmed. Nothing. No updates, only what you can see online from his new friends and his sister. Seemingly forgetting about you. You are happy for him. That people finally realize what a good person Jin Woo is. That he gets what he deserves for having such a difficult life. But it hurt that you don’t seem to be a part of it anymore. Even after he was...is such a major part of your life. Is it because you are weak? Ugly? Annoying? You don’t know because he never told you. He doesn’t tell you anything anymore...and you begun to keep silent about your life. At the beginning, you still updated him about your life, trying to keep small talk and texting about random things like you always do. Sending him memes and videos. But it slowly faded after his replies got shorter and shorter and shorter, then left in read and in the end, you weren’t even worthy enough to be left on read. It all came to a halt. No texts, no calls, no meetings. You even begun to avoid everything that has to do with him. Things that would remind you of him. All the pictures, gifts, everything physically was but into a box and placed somewhere, where you wouldn’t see it. You can’t. It just hurt to be reminded of how worthless you got. Your daily life changed and you tried to forget him, even to replace him but it was difficult. Somehow you managed to get your act together. When you have to socialize it is. At home, alone, it was a different story. It broke you how easily you were tossed away. As happy as you are for him, it hurt as much. You tried to talk to him so often, but he always found a way to avoid you. The more often you tried, the easier he slipped away. This was till you two had no choice but to interact. When the Dungeonmonsters came out of the Gates, all hell broke lose. It was terrifying seeing the things that Hunters are supposed to hunt, for yourself. They were monstrous, tall, bloody, horrendous and dangerous. Nobody expected that such things would come out, even though everybody feared it after the JeJu-Island-Raid. At that time, you were near the Gate. Shopping for Groceries. You were almost squashed to death from a big foot that stepped right in front of you. Your throat tightening. Gulping down a scream you fell on your behind. The groceries were now splattered everywhere. You saw dead bodies between the big toes of the Monster, seemingly the Hunters who wanted to clear the Gate. Wasn’t it a small D-Rank-Gate? Why are these monsters here? You did not had the time to think about it as the Monster seemed to notice you. It bend downward, his arm reaching out to you. You tried to scramble away. To get up and run inside in hope you would be safer there but you toppled over and over. Tears begun to well up into your eyes. Hiccups bubbling in your throat and your heart clenched. Your breath irregular. You don’t want to die. Yes, you go through so much pain right now and life is shitty but you don’t want to die. Help! Was your only thought. Someone, please help me! Anybody! any “anybody” came to rescue you. The second he took you in his arms you knew, who it was. The smell was what gave him out. The smell of Ebony that never left him. He shielded your eyes, so you wouldn’t see the blood he spilled or anything else, that would be to gruesome for you, knowing how sensitive you are. You can’t even watch a horrormovie properly without hiding your face in his shoulder. “Are you okay?” hearing his voice after so long made you tear up. The question he gave you, these simple words, stirred something up inside of you. It wasn’t pain or sadness that you felt all the time. No, it was anger. Anger at him for that it was of all the people him that rescued you. That he asked this question, after all the time. Asking, because of the monsters and not, because of all the other things or because he really want to know. You pushed him roughly away. Your head turned away so you wouldn’t see him. Not wanting to spare him any glance. “Thanks...” You tried to rescue what you could from your groceries, not waiting for anything he could say. You just want to go before you say something that you could regret. But what is it, that you would regret? Saying how you feel? How Jin Woo made you feel? How he threw you away? Or is it, that you would regret saying all these things knowing, it could hurt him like it has hurt you? “I asked if you’re okay?” The grip around the now ripped plastic-bag tightened. Your lips formed a thin line. Why can’t he just go and leave you alone like he already did? He is stirring up emotions, you never wanted to feel regarding him. “Why do you care?” It was a simple question. But filled with so much emotion and at the same time none. He looked taken aback. His eyes widened a bit when you looked him dead in the eyes. You gaze as dead and hollow as you feel at night. He opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to that. “I mean, you didn’t cared since a long time ago about me, no? Ignoring me, avoiding me, replacing and throwing me away. And now? Now you come here, rescuing me for what I am thankful, but asking me if I am okay? No. I am not. A monster almost killed me. In fact I am scared to death and at the verge of crying,” your voice begun to break a little, hiccups threatening to come out “But it is also a fact, that this isn’t the worst of all the things.” instead of hiccups, a bitterly laugh came out. “No, worse is, that it is you who rescued me. The Person who I did not wanted to see. So, no, I am not okay but it doesn’t concern you anymore, so goodbye.” Leaving your groceries behind you ran. As fast as you could. Never stopping or looking back. Not before you got home. You ran so much and so fast, you almost doubled over and puked on the floor. Your entire body was shaking, you sweat. You feel hot and cold at the same time. Your mind was racing faster, than you just ran. Everything just bubbled up and came out. It was too much to hold in it, so you screamed and trashed. Screamed our lungs out till they gave in and your throat begun to hurt and burn. You knocked everything over, throwing and kicking things. Hammering your fist against the walls till they bleed. You don’t know how long you did that but you stopped when you felt his arm around you. Again. The smell was intoxicating. A cloud of his smell formed around you. “I’m so sorry...” it was then and there, that you begun to cry. You pounded against his chest. Cried. Screamed at him. Merciless at how much he hurt you. How you hated him. How you never want to see him again. Asking him why he did that. Insulting him till no end. While you did all that. he just silently embraced you. Taking everything in you said. Never saying something against it or making excuses. Only these three words came out of him. Over and over and over.

#solo leveling #i alone level up #sung jin woo #sung jin woo x reader #x reader #scenario #Solo leveling Scenario

[waka-chan-out]

your fics are so good!!

idk if you take requests but if you do, could you do a third gym fic (tsukki, bokuto, kuroo, akaashi) with a switch reader?

Third Gym Reunion

akaashi, kuroo, tsukishima, & bokuto x switch!reader

Plot: Your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji, gets invited to meet up with his old practice buddies. His friends already know you have an open relationship and are fully ready to take advantage of it.

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 8.5k (jesus christ !!)

content warning: (deep breath) established relationship, open relationship, five-some (if that’s even a word), sub!bokuto, reader calls bokuto puppy, bokuto with mommy kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, degradation, snowballing, spanking, hair pulling, spit-roasting, finger sucking, calling tsukki his given name, spitting, in my canon akaashi and bokuto have hooked up before so you’ll see the repercussions of that in this story, don’t mind me putting in an anal warning for them here, slight exibitionism but not really, slight overstim but not really, essentially it’s filth.

“For the last time, no,” Keiji said.

“Why not? I want to meet the boys,” you whined, grasping at his forearm. He kept staring straight at the road, seemingly immune to your pleading.

“Because I know my friends. It will not end well.”

“How come? Don’t you trust them?”

Keiji laughed. “Absolutely not. Bokuto I can talk into behaving. Tsukishima and -- oh god -- Kuroo? Absolutely not.”

“What could they possibly do?”

“They know we’re more . . . open, love. They’ll try to take advantage of that.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“Babe!”

“What? You said they’re all tall, right? Are they handsome?”

Keiji shrugged, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. My answer is no.”

“Why don’t you just take me along? I’m sure they’d bring a girlfriend if they had one. You’re the lucky guy out of the three of you.”

“What if they try to . . . proposition you?”

“If they’re icky, I’ll say no.”

He turned to you, alarmed. “And if they aren’t?”

“Are you saying they aren’t?”

“Answer the question.”

“If they aren’t, I’ll look to you for approval.”

“No.”

“What? You don’t even know they’re gonna ask.”

“You haven’t met them. Bokuto is going to take one look at you and be latched onto you all night. God only knows what Kuroo will do.”

“What about the other one?”

“Who?”

“The blond.”

“Oh, Tsukki? He’ll just insult you. I doubt he’d ever sink to asking me.”

You smirked. “He sounds fun.”

“Only some --” Keiji noticed your cheeky expression. “Hey! No.”

“You never know.”

“I know.”

“Whatever you say, Kei.”

“Don’t call me that around them.”

You pouted. “Why?”

“That’s Tsukishima’s first name.”

You grinned. “So you’re saying I get to come as long as I don’t use your nickname?”

Keiji sighed. “I guess so. I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t.”

“Yay!” You hummed happily, then turned to him with a cheeky smile on your face. “Wait . . . is Bokuto the one that you--” Keiji cut you off by clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t.”

“I’m right! Oh my god, Keiji, I’m excited to meet him.”

“It’s been a long time, love. He probably doesn’t even remember.”

“Oh please, if it was with you, he remembers.”

Keiji’s brows knitted together.

“What does that mean?” he asked. You wiggled your fingers at him.

“You’ve got very memorable hands.”

His face flushed a bright red and he turned away from you.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your confident demeanor only faltered slightly when you arrived at gym three, where they all used to practice together. Only Kuroo and Bokuto were there and, as you suspected, they weren’t even remotely icky. Kuroo was tall with dark hair, his dress shirt and pants hiding a slim but muscular frame. He looked like he had just come from work. Bokuto on the other hand was huge. He wore simple sweatpants and a sweatshirt and looked thoroughly happy to be there. He was holding a volleyball and yelling when you and Keiji stepped through the doorway.

“What do you mean I’ve gotten worse? I’m a professional!”

“You’re a dumbass that can’t receive the ball.”

“And you’re a scammer!”

“Bokuto, this is my work uniform. I don’t scam people.”

“You look like a scammer.”

“I work for a legitimate company!”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not kidding. See? Scammer.”

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji called from the doorway. “His company is real. You need to calm down.”

“Aghakshi!” Bokuto sprinted for his friend while Kuroo fell into step behind him, a pleased smile on his face. Bokuto wrapped Keiji up in a bear hug.

“You’re late, ‘Kashi. Kuroo was mean without you.”

“I’m not mean.” Kuroo placed a hand on his chest. “I am a very nice man.”

“No, you’re a scammer and a liar.”

“I’m not --”

“Guys,” Keiji butted in. He gestured behind himself to you. “This is my partner, Y/N. Please behave around them.” Both men’s eyes froze on you, making you distinctly aware of your height difference. Keiji wasn’t short by any means, but these men were huge.

“Hi,” you said, pasting a cheerful smile across your face. “It’s nice to finally meet you guys. I’ve heard all about you.”

“I guarantee we’re worse in person,” Kuroo said, eyes sparkling as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Why do you do that?” Bokuto asked, eyebrows drawn down in a frown.

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s not the truth,” Keiji stepped in, separating your hand from Kuroo’s. You hadn’t realized you were still holding it. “You’re both dorks and they know it already. Stop being weird.”

“Hi,” a bored sounding voice came from directly behind you. You turned around and shrunk against Keiji. Tsukishima stood behind you, shaggy blonde hair just barely hiding his serious eyebrows. He was thin, too, but tall. He and Kuroo were about the same size, but seeing Tsukishima so close to you made your heart pound.

“Tsukki-poo, how are you, buddy?” Bokuto yelled, pushing past you to wrap his friend up in his arms.

“Don’t call me that.” Tsukki sounded bored and annoyed, but you knew he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t miss his friends just a little bit. “Who’s the little one?” he asked, staring down at you with cold eyes. Bokuto grinned, still hanging onto him.

“That’s Akaashi’s partner. Isn’t that cool?”

“Sure. You guys fuck other people, don’t you?”

Silence. You stared at the ground, eyes wide in amused disbelief.

“That. Well. You aren’t wrong but that seems inappropriate.” Keiji was bright red and only burned brighter as he spoke.

“Not as inappropriate as you describing your sex life to us. Do they know you do that?”

“Yes, I do,” you said, staring up at him. “Slow down, lamp post. I think you need to relax.”

Kuroo let out a hyena laugh. “I like them,” he said.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Are we playing or not?”

“Playing,” Keiji said.

“Fine. Akaashi, you help tiny. Bokuto, you can be on their team.”

Bokuto frowned. “Why? You guys just have two middle blockers.”

“Kuroo can receive and both of us can spike.”

“Who’s going to set for you?” Keiji asked.

“I can,” you chimed in. Keiji’s friends all turned to you in surprise.

“I played through college. It’s only fair. Bokuto and Akaashi against me, Tsukishima, and Kuroo.”

Kuroo smiled, eyes glinting again as he stared at you. “I think that’s a brilliant plan. Ok with you, ‘Kashi?” Keiji narrowed his eyes at his friend, who still had his eyes trained on you.

“They can play setter for you. That’s it.”

The three other men looked at each other in surprise. The implication of his words was . . . jarring. You smiled nervously and walked to one side of the net. You shrugged off your jacket, revealing a thin long-sleeved shirt that no longer covered the back of your leggings. You could feel at least two men’s eyes on you, but you ignored it. All you had to do now was prove you could still play volleyball.

“You know the rules, then?” Tsukishima asked, tying his shoes tighter.

“I’ll be just fine, Tsukki-babe,” you said. He cringed at the nickname. “I’m more concerned with how Kuroo is going to play in his work clothes.

“Give me a minute, dearest,” he said, walking past you with a bag in his hands. “I brought clothes.”

“Hustle up, buddy, or we’ll start without you.”

“Shut up and practice before we lose to the chaos twins.”

Tsukki scoffed. “Like we’re going to lose to them. Bokuto’s going to go emo-mode in ten minutes, guaranteed.”

“Emo mode?” you asked. Tsukki’s brows raised and he smiled for the first time since you had met him.

“You’re dating Akaashi and you don’t know about Bokuto’s emo mode?”

“I guess not.”

He let out a delighted laugh, completely out of character but quite sweet. “God, you’re in for a treat.”

Kuroo returned in a short pair of red athletic shorts and a black t-shirt.

“Is that the same outfit you had in high school?” Keiji asked, a smile on his face.

“The very same,” Kuroo said, laughing and stretching his arms across his chest. “Well, not the exact same clothes, but the same colors. I outgrew my old stuff. I’ve gotten much bigger since high school.” He winked in your direction.

“Gross,” Tsukki said.

“Shut up.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Can we start?” He shrugged off his own jacket, revealing a long-sleeved shirt and athletic shorts.

“Who gets first serve?” Keiji asked.

“There are more of us. You guys can start,” Kuroo said.

“Bokuto, do you want to serve or should I?” Keiji turned to Bokuto, who looked grumpy at the lack of attention he was getting.

“You do it, ‘Kashi.”

“Are you sure?”

Bokuto nodded vigorously and Keiji walked to the back line. You stood up towards the net while the other men backed up on the court.

“Nice serve,” you yelled.

“Shut up. He’s on the other team,” Tsukki said, sounding exasperated.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“So, you should want to kick his ass,” Kuroo said. You laughed and Keiji hit the ball over the net.

It went to Tsukki, who easily bumped it up. It traveled high in the air, thank goodness. You were a little rusty, but this made it much easier on you.

“Left!” Kuroo called, hand in the air. You pushed the ball his way, satisfied at the way it lifted off your fingers. You missed this feeling. It landed right against Kuroo’s hand, who slammed it down. It barely grazed the top of Bokuto’s fingers before spinning off and hitting the ground. Kuroo ran for you immediately, grin on his face.

“That was great! I gotta say, I thought you were going to suck, but that was great.” He continued rambling as you turned to Tsukki.

“What did you think, tough guy? That was a nice receive.”

“It wasn’t that impressive. I just knew it had to go high so your dumbass could actually hit it.” He sneered as he spoke, but from the way he was rubbing his forearms you could tell he was excited too. Though he played on his own, you were sure he missed practicing with this group.

“I’d like to see one of your famous blocks next time,” you teased.

“Then tell Bokuto-san to receive the damn ball.” He turned away from you and walked to the back line.

“Hey!” Bokuto had gotten into a receiving position, hands on his knees waiting for your team to serve. You couldn’t help but notice how thick his thighs were, even through his sweatpants. “Can we go or is Tsukki-dude gonna keep complaining?”

“We’re going,” Tsukishima replied, picking up the volleyball that Keiji had rolled over to his feet. “Relax before you use up all the energy in your brain.” You couldn’t help but snicker. His responses were so quick. He was an ass, but he was charming in his own way.

Tsukishima took his place on the back line and easily popped the ball over the net. Bokuto received it and sent it up high. Keiji had to run for it but he got under the ball. Tsukishima and Kuroo took their places on the net, following Bokuto closely with their eyes. You backed up and bent your knees, ready to receive if they somehow missed it.

They didn’t miss it.

The ball hammered into Tsukishima’s hand and he flexed his fingers, sending it straight back down over the net. Kuroo hollered and slapped him on the back, while Bokuto drooped down and a pouty expression came over his face.

“It wasn’t a hard spike. I don’t know why you’re freaking out,” Tsukishima said as Kuroo continued chattering on about how much he’s improved.

“Aghashkiii,” Bokuto said. Tsukishima’s attention was on him in an instant, eyes twinkling.

“Oh fuck, it’s happening.” He gestured for you to come closer. “Shortie, are you watching?”

“Yes, I’m watching. What’s going on?” You approached and watched as your boyfriend’s shoulders fell in a deep sigh.

“Kashi, we have to switch,” Bokuto whined. “You can’t set it to me anymore.”

“Told you it’d be less than ten minutes,” Tsukishima said, expression smug.

“Is he gonna be okay?” you asked. Kuroo laughed.

“He’ll be fine,” he said. “He just needs his setter. Akaashi, on the other hand, will barely survive. He hasn’t had to deal with this in years.” You snickered, then briefly wondered if they knew about Bokuto and Keiji’s . . . antics back in the day.

“Does he do this on his pro team?” you asked.

“Not that I’ve seen. Either they’re better at managing it or Bokuto just goes full baby for Akaashi.” Kuroo rolled his eyes and walked away.

You laughed to yourself. What an idiot. However, he was an idiot that was wrapped around your boyfriend’s finger. Interesting.

“Bokuto-san, are you sure?” Keiji was saying. “Your setting isn’t very precise.”

“Apparently neither is my spiking.”

“Fine. Good luck.” Bokuto didn’t see Keiji shake his head as he spoke. Tsukishima grabbed the volleyball again, a wide smile on his face.

“God, I can’t wait to see this one,” he said, then raised his voice so the other men could hear him. “Akaashi, it’s coming to you!” Keiji nodded and got into position. Bokuto’s eyes were still wide and blank as he got closer to the net.

Tsukishima hit the ball right into Keiji’s arms. He bumped it up without much trouble and shouted for Bokuto.

“Get under the ball, Bokuto!” He backed up to start a spiking approach.

“I got it!” Bokuto sounded frustrated. He ran for the ball, settled underneath it, and . . .

It clattered to the gym floor behind him. His expression remained blank and focused on the air above him, even when his arms flopped down to his sides.

“Our point!” Tsukishima called, smiling again. He ducked to the other side of the net and grabbed the ball. He really was a brat.

“Bokuto --” Keiji started.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” Bokuto said, slumping to the gym floor.

“You can’t just give up like that,” Kuroo interjected, sounding more amused than frustrated.

“I can and I will. Let’s just go to dinner. I don’t want to be sweaty if we’re going somewhere nice.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were grateful that Keiji had convinced you to bring something nice to wear to the restaurant, otherwise you would have looked completely out of place. Kuroo had put his work clothes back on. Keiji had thrown on a sweater. Tsukishima wore a button-up and a vest and Bokuto was wearing a blazer with a t-shirt. Somehow, the outfits suited them.

“So,” Kuroo said between sips from a bottle of beer. “Akaashi has told us all about you.” You chuckled, pushing around the remaining rice on your plate.

“Is that so?” You glanced at Keiji, who sat beside you. His cheeks were slightly pink. He looked precious, like he was skating right on the edge of a giggle fit.

“Yep,” Kuroo continued. He had a sly smile on his face and looked all too happy to be talking to you. He leaned toward you across Tsukishima’s lap, who frowned and shoved him off. Kuroo flopped back down, leaning on an elbow on the table in front of his tall friend. “I’d say we know more about you than you know about us.”

“You know, that’s probably true.” You leaned on the table and matched his posture.

“Lame. Akaashi, why don’t you talk about us?”

Keiji took a deep sip of his drink and shook his head.

“Because I knew meeting you guys would do all the talking,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” Bokuto said a little too loudly, leaning into Keiji’s lap. Keiji looked down at him patiently, cheeks flushing a bit darker.

“It means your personalities are so aggressive that they need no explanation.”

“I’m not aggressive!”

“But your personality is.”

Bokuto frowned, not understanding but accepting the answer.

“So, what do you know about me?” you asked, turning back to Kuroo. He shrugged, staring into space to consider your question before giggling.

“What are you laughing at?” You narrowed your eyes at him. You knew exactly what he was thinking, but you wanted him to say it.

“The…nature…of your relationship with our boy Akaashi.”

“Yeah?” You tipped back your glass and grinned.

“We’ve heard all about it.”

“All?” You turned your face towards your boyfriend.

“Not even close,” he said through a smirk.

“What?” Kuroo asked, snapping his gaze to Keiji. “You’ve told us so much.”

“And there’s so much more to explore,” you said with a smug smile and exaggerated gesture.

“Yeah? With who?” Bokuto chimed in. You leaned over to Keiji.

“You’re right. That didn’t take long.” Keiji shook his head at your words and finished off his drink.

“I told you not to trust them,” he said. He turned his attention back to Bokuto. “With anyone, Bokuto-san.” Bokuto’s eyebrows nearly raised off his head.

“Anyone?”

“Anyone.”

“Truly anyone? Or are you one of those couples that acts like they’re kinky but really just watches porn together or something?” You were surprised that Tsukishima decided to chime in now, but you weren’t surprised by his comment. He was the type that had to see to believe. You narrowed your eyes at him and ran a finger down the back of his hand, which still clutched his glass on the table.

“Try me and find out,” you said. His eyebrows twitched and he looked away.

“Wait wait wait wait,” Kuroo cried, leaning over Tsukishima again. “Is that an offer?”

“What would you say if it was?” you asked. Keiji scoffed.

“Seriously?” Bokuto asked, eyes huge. You shrugged and looked at your boyfriend.

“What do you think, Kei?”

Tsukishima choked on his drink, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Kei?” he asked, a deep flush crawling up his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ,” Keiji said, rubbing his eyes. You laughed.

“Sorry, Tsukki. Short for Keiji.” Tsukki’s eyes remained trained on your face, looking not-quite-convinced with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. You turned back to Keiji before you could get more distracted. “Well?” He let out a long sigh.

“Whatever you want, love.” He looked defeated, but you could tell he wasn’t unenthusiastic about the idea. You saw the way he had cupped a hand on Bokuto’s hip earlier, supposedly to keep him steady as he leaned into his lap. You couldn’t suppress a grin as you glanced back at the other men at the table. Bokuto looked confused, eyes still wide. Kuroo had paled, and Tsukishima seemed to still be reeling from you accidentally using his given name.

“Our place is closest,” you said. All three men looked like they had just been slapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off awkard. There was plenty of time between your statement at the bar, getting the check, everyone finding their way back to your and Keiji’s shared apartment, and getting in a mental place where you could bring them all into your bedroom. Keiji had thrown a box of condoms and a small bottle of lube onto the foot of the bed, making everyone’s eyes go wide. Without kissing, touching, some sort of foreplay, it felt awkward, but truthfully, you had no connection to these men. They were just hot strangers that knew your boyfriend. You could do this.

“Who do you want first, love?” Keiji asked. You stared at the expectant faces in front of you. Kuroo’s eyes were glinting. He would be fun, but you didn’t want to jump into him right away. Tsukki was a silent brat, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You’d fix that later. He wasn’t a problem to deal with first.

“Bo?” you said. The large man perked up at your words, wide eyes trained on yours. “Come here, baby.” You gestured for him and he complied, swallowing hard as he crossed the room to you. You stood as he got to you and pushed him to a seated position on the bed.

“You seem eager, puppy,” you said, sinking to your knees in front of him. He inhaled sharply.

“I’m not--oh!” His sentence was cut off as you palmed him through his sweatpants.

“You aren’t what, Bo? You can tell me.”

“I-- shit.” His eyes fluttered closed as you established a slow rhythm, feeling him getting harder at your touch.

“You aren’t going to talk to me?” you pouted. You tried to sound sympathetic but you spoke through a small smile. “You haven’t been touched like this in a while, have you?” He shook his head and let out an unsteady breath.

“Want me to help?” you asked. “Want me to suck your cock?” There were several inhales from the wall behind you, but you kept going. You rose up a bit, keeping a hand between his legs as you kissed along his neck.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Aw, puppy, you know you have to ask better than that.”

“Will you -- fuck -- will you suck my cock?”

“So close, Bo. What do you call me?” There was the sound of Tsukki saying “seriously?” before he made a quiet grunting noise. Someone had elbowed him in the side.

“Ma’am?” Bokuto asked.

“Is that what you want to call me?”

He inhaled sharply and your hand ground into him harder. “I don’t want to say it.”

“Aw, puppy, why? You know I’m here to help.” You closed your teeth lightly on his earlobe and he exhaled hard, making you almost worried for his poor lungs. You whispered into his ear. “I want to hear you call me something pretty when you come down my throat.” His hips bucked up into your hand and he muttered something under his breath.

“What did you say, Bo? I couldn’t hear you.”

“M--” his eyes darted to the other men standing against the wall. You grabbed his face and made him look at you.

“Don’t worry about them. What do you want to call me, pup?”

“Mommy,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear him. You drew in a sharp breath. You were expecting something good, but that exceeded expectations. Your reaction seemed to give him a little confidence, because he spoke louder this time. “Mommy, please suck my cock.”

“Jesus Christ,” said a voice behind you. It sounded like Kuroo.

You grinned. “Good boy. Help mommy take off your pants.”

He immediately did as he was told, tugging them off and letting you throw them to the side. He was big, a little longer and thicker than Keiji. You felt heat rising in your stomach imagining your boyfriend in this same position years ago, using his adept fingers and skilled tongue on the man sitting in front of you.

“So big, puppy,” you said, smiling up at him. Let me help.” Before he could respond you had settled your lips over the head of his cock, swirling your tongue before taking him in deeper. He swore loudly and buried a hand in your hair. You hummed at his noises and moved your head faster. The room was filled with lewd noises that were quickly drowned out by Bokuto’s breathy whimpers.

“Talk to her, Bokuto-san, don’t be shy,” Keiji said. This is why you loved Keiji. He could swap personalities so fast, especially with the right partner.

“Feels good,” Bokuto stuttered, head tipping back. You heard footsteps approaching and felt a warm figure kneeling down behind you.

“Good girl.” It was Keiji. He leaned his face into the side of yours and undid your pants, slipping his hand down the front of them. “So wet already, love. I knew you were a slut, but Jesus.” He slipped his fingers inside you for a moment, wetting them before circling your clit quickly. He had a setter’s hands, precise and sure in every movement. You moaned and took Bokuto all the way into your mouth. He exhaled sharply and swore above you.

“You look so pretty with his cock down your throat, darling. Go faster for him, yeah? He likes it.” You complied, bobbing your head up and down and eliciting a series of loud noises from Bokuto.

“I want you to come when he comes, love. You’ll be good and do that for me, right?” You hummed in what you hoped would be interpreted as agreement and you sunk into Keiji’s touch. He knew exactly what to do to send you reeling in no time at all.

“Bokuto-san, tell her when you’re about to cum, yeah?” Bokuto nodded frantically and Keiji slapped his thigh. Bokuto jumped at the sudden strike, bucking his hips deeper into your mouth. “Use your words, Bokuto-san.”

“Yes. Fuck. I will, I promise.”

“Good boy,” Keiji said, rubbing faster circles against you. You continued to moan and you felt Bokuto twitch in your mouth. You knew he was close and thankfully, you were, too.

“Close, ‘Kashi.”

“Tell them, not me.”

“Mommy, please.” Bokuto moaned loudly. “Gonna cum soon.” Keiji leaned in close to your ear again, never losing his pace on you.

“Don’t swallow. Make him clean up his mess,” he said. You reached behind and squeezed his arm so he knew you understood, shaking a bit with your own approaching orgasm.

“Fuck. Holy shit,” Bokuto groaned, hips bucking as he came into your mouth. You continued moving on him as Keiji sent you over the edge, moaning around Bokuto’s cock.

“Dirty girl,” Keiji said through a laugh, pulling his hand away and returning to the wall. You pulled off of Bokuto, making sure not to accidentally swallow as you straddled his lap. He twitched at your advances, staring wide-eyed at your still-full mouth.

“Mommy, too -- fuck. Too sensitive.” You smiled and pressed your lips against his. He parted his lips instinctively, allowing you to kiss his own cum into his mouth. He swallowed obediently, moaning a bit as he did so. You smiled into the kiss, grinding your hips a little against him. He inhaled in a panic and pulled away, burying his face into your chest. You laughed and ran a hand lovingly through his hair.

“Good boy, Bokuto. Such a good boy. Should we let Kuroo go next? Wanna watch him fuck mommy?” Bokuto nodded against you, chest still heaving. You turned your head to face the wall. Keiji was smirking. Kuroo’s face was bright red. Tsukki didn’t look too phased, although you could see that he was fully hard.

“Kuroo, hon,” you said. He stiffened and pushed off the wall. “Bokuto says he wants to watch you fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Don’t be difficult. Get over here.”

Kuroo swallowed hard and approached you. You planted a quick kiss on Bokuto’s head and climbed off of him. He let out a gasp at the loss and laid back on the bed.

“Where do you want me?” Kuroo asked. You stared down at his hands and the growing bulge in his shorts and shook your head.

“No. Tell me where you want me.” You began working off the buttons of his shirt.

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

You nodded.

“Lay back.”

You smiled and did as you were told, scooting farther up onto the bed. Bokuto shifted so he wasn’t in the way. Kuroo smiled and leaned on top of you, capturing your lips in his. He was eager, tongue slipping easily into your mouth. You could still feel the happy curve of his lips as he moved against you, sliding one hand deep in your hair and the other curving around your waist. You kissed him back enthusiastically, surprised but delighted by the genuine affection. The hand on your waist slipped up under your shirt, like he wanted to pull it off but was too focused on the kiss to pull away. You tugged away from his lips and he followed, eyes still closed. You chuckled and sat up a bit under him, pulling your shirt over your head and capturing his face between your hands, pulling into another eager kiss. He breathed a sigh of appreciation and ran his hands over your newly exposed skin.

He pulled away and buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and lightly biting the sensitive skin. You sighed and tangled your hands in his insane hair. He kissed down, stopping just above the fabric of your bra. He tipped his head up to look at you, eyes bright. He licked his lips and you felt heat reaching the very tips of your fingers. You ran your fingers through his hair and nodded, giving him all the go ahead he needed to pull down the front of your bra and take a nipple into his mouth. You sighed again, grip in his hair tightening. He let out a huff at your reaction and circled his tongue. He bit down gently and you let out a gasp, locking your legs around his midsection.

“Kuroo,” you breathed. He didn’t break away from you, just let his eyes flicker up to meet yours. You felt a blissed out smile reach your lips at the sight. “Take off your fucking clothes.” He sucked harder on your chest for just a moment, eliciting a gasp from you, then leaned back down to kiss you again, grin on his lips. He only kissed you for a moment, tongue hungry in your mouth, before tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side recklessly.

“Oi!” Tsukishima called out from the side of the room. You and Kuroo both laughed as you worked in tandem to get his belt loose and pants open, kissing clumsily as you went. As soon as you got them down and he kicked them to the side, you pulled your legs up and wiggled your pants down. Kuroo reached behind you and unclasped your bra (something that took even Keiji several tries and a hearty laugh) and began to kiss over your chest again. You tipped your head back and reached down, wrapping your hand around his already hard cock through his boxer briefs. He hissed against you, biting down where he was. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Jesus,” he said as he pulled away again, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your lace undergarments and tugging them down. He stared at you for just a second before snatching up a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. “Flip over,” he said, voice rougher. You complied instantly, breathing heavily from the kisses and adrenaline. You were faced with a stunned Bokuto, who you had forgotten was still laying -- or now, sitting up -- on the bed. You laughed and reached out for him. His eyes were wide as he laced his fingers through yours. From behind you, Kuroo teased your entrance. You sighed and leaned your head forward onto your arm, bracing yourself. He pushed in gently at first, shuddering out a deep breath at the contact. Impatiently, you pushed back onto him, feeling his full length sinking into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He leaned forward on top of you while your fingernails dug into the back of Bokuto’s hand. He began moving his hips slowly, the curve of his dick hitting perfectly inside of you. You leaned forward onto your hand, still clasped with Bokuto’s. Kuroo sped up his strokes, leaning back up and getting a bit rougher. His hands found their way to your hips, tugging you back against him as he moved. You choked out a moan as he pushed into you deeper with the new motion.

“Kuroo,” Keiji said. Kuroo apparently didn’t hear, swearing under his breath. Keiji scoffed. “Tetsuro!”

“Fuck -- what, Akaashi?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Kuroo ignored him, slowing down for a moment, hitting a particularly deep part of you that made you whine and bury your face further against Bokuto’s hand. “Kuroo, hit them.”

“What?” Kuroo sounded slightly incredulous, or at least as incredulous as he could sound when out of breath and buried inside of you.

“Spank. Them.”

Kuroo chuckled slightly and brought one of his hands back to rest on your ass, rubbing it before winding it back and landing a heavy smack against you. You bucked up at the motion, your back losing its arch for a moment. Your mouth fell open and you felt Bokuto reach up, running a finger along your lip in fascination. You looked up at him, tongue lolling out to make contact with the digit. His eyes widened and he pressed the finger onto your tongue. Kuroo landed another hit on your ass and you jumped forward, taking Bokuto’s finger far into your mouth. He shuddered out a breath. Kuroo smacked you again and you moaned loudly, still maintaining eye contact with Bokuto. His breath was picking up as he watched you, tongue swirling around his finger.

“God, you really like this, don’t you?” Kuroo asked, a smile evident in his voice. “What if I . . .” he reached forward and gathered the hair at the nape of your neck, tightening his fist so he was pulling it without yanking your head backwards. Your eyes fell shut and you let out a muffled moan, the sensation adding a layer of delicious pain on top of the pleasure racking your body.

“I knew it,” Kuroo continued. “Jesus, you’re fun.” He gasped, hips jumping slightly. You heard a scoff at his words. Your eyes flickered open and found the two men still sitting on the side of the room. Keiji was smiling, but Tsukishima looked like he was trapped in a haze, unable to fully comprehend what was happening in front of him. You pulled off of Bokuto’s finger with one last slide of your tongue. He shivered and brought his hand back against his chest.

“Tsukki,” you sang. Tsukishima looked up, eyebrow cocked. You let out a gasp and your eyes flickered closed for a second as Kuroo landed another smack. You smiled at the tall blond and the expression dropped off his face. “Come here, Tsukishima.” He rolled his eyes.

“You seem occupied,” he said, voice wavering just a bit. You bit down on your hand as Kuroo slowed down again, dragging his cock nearly fully out before steadily driving back in.

“Tsukishima, I’m not playing that game,” you managed through a gasp. “Get over here.” He rolled his eyes and stood, beginning to approach you. Your eyes met his hungrily. “Take off your shirt,” you said as he stopped in front of you. You moved so you could face him, Kuroo moving with you and adjusting to the new angle easily. Tsukishima made no move to follow your instruction, staring down at you with an unreadable but distinctly gruff expression on his face. You scoffed and reached out, grabbing his waistband and pulling him to you. You could see his dick, long and thin, fully hard through his slacks. Impatiently, you pulled at the button until it opened. You yanked down, freeing him from his pants and undergarments  in one motion. You wasted no time leaning forward and wrapping your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning as Kuroo picked up his pace again.

“Jesus fuck,” Kuroo gasped. Tsukishima didn’t look like he knew what to do with his hands, holding them up by his chest in surprise. You hummed around his cock, looking up at him. He held eye contact, previously cocky eyes wide. Kuroo let out a groan and dug the tips of his fingers into your hips.

“Fuck. I’m cl -- fuck!” he groaned, hips stuttering. He wasn’t even capable of finishing a coherent thought, pounding into you from behind. He moved your entire body with each stroke, making you involuntarily take Tsukishima deeper into your mouth at every forward motion. Tsukki finally relaxed a bit, hands gently burying in your hair as Kuroo’s swearing got louder. He leaned down, supporting himself with one arm on the bed and the other wrapped around your midsection. He plucked at your nipples, elliciting surprised sounds from you that were muffled against Tsukishima.

You felt the moment Kuroo came. His face pushed into your back, panting breaths heavy against your skin as his hips broke their rhythm. He pulsed inside of you, dragging a groan from deep in your chest. Tsukishima’s grip on your hair tightened and he let out a sharp hiss, clearly trying to hold back any noise.

Kuroo finally pulled out and tipped away from you, probably realizing how close he was to Tsukishima. He stood up and took a few steps back, brushing his black hair, now sticky with sweat, out of his eyes. You popped your mouth off of Tsukishima and ran your hands up quickly, popping the buttons of his shirt open from the bottom up.

“What--” he started. You cut him off.

“Bo, baby, move.” Your order was gentle but firm. Bokuto recognized your tone immediately, scrambling pantsless up from the bed and moving out of your way. You sat up on your heels and pulled on Tsukishima’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed. He sat down and backed against the headboard, brows furrowed. His face flushed when he looked down and realized he was fully exposed, but you remedied that easily, crawling into his lap and silencing whatever snarky remarks were boiling in his brain to calm his nerves. You planted a heated kiss against his lips.

He was a gentler and less smiley kisser than Kuroo, but more precise. Every movement of his tongue felt like a calculated effort, feeling out your weak spots and taking advantage of them once he found them. You sighed and sat farther down in his lap, grazing his cock between your legs. You ground down slightly before realizing -- shit. You were so distracted by the kiss that you almost forgot. You leaned back, breaking the kiss but remaining in his lap. You snatched up a condom and wagged it in front of Tsukishima’s eyes. He scoffed.

“No need to act so giddy,” he said. You just smiled at him, taking in the vision of the red faced man in front of you. His lips were slick and parted, like he was desperately waiting for another kiss, and his glasses were slowly de-fogging. You laughed and captured his lips in yours again, biting lightly at his bottom lip and just barely teasing him with your tongue. When you pulled away, he followed you slightly, then immediately sat back and blinked, like he was trying to cover up the motion. You huffed a laugh and slid his glasses off his face.

“Kashi,” you said, holding them out behind you without breaking eye contact with Tsukishima. You felt them leave your hand and you returned your touch to Tsukki’s face, running your thumb along his bottom lip.

“Cute,” you mumbled, nearly laughing again at the way his face turned an even darker shade of red.

“Agashi,” Bokuto whined behind you. You laughed and peered over your shoulder. Bokuto was squirming. He had put his boxer-briefs back on, but you could see that he was hard again, probably painfully so.

“Keiji, love, take care of him,” you said, carefully putting on the gentle tone you used with Bokuto. Keiji slid next to Bokuto, whose eyes were now wide, and you turned back to Tsukishima knowing your boyfriend had everything under control. You heard Bokuto gasp and Kuroo mutter “Jesus,” but you just held the condom up to Tsukishima’s mouth. He looked at you with confusion written on his face.

“What?” he asked.

“Open,” you replied, holding it closer to his mouth. His eyes grew wide but he leaned in, opening his mouth and closing his teeth on the wrapper. You smirked at him and tugged at the foil. You pulled out the condom when it was finally open and tossed the wrapper from Tsukishima’s lips to the side. You replaced it with your lips as you moved your hand between your legs and slipped the condom onto Tsukki. He gasped at the contact, leaning his head back against the headboard. You followed him with your lips and deepened the kiss as you wrapped a hand around him, lining him up with your entrance. You sunk down, not giving either of you a chance to really react until he was fully sheathed inside of you. He broke from your lips and leaned his forehead against your cheek. He let out a shuddering gasp and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned your face and kissed his forehead, then lifted up slightly and sunk back down onto him. He gasped and you began to rock more steadily, slowly picking up the energy and pace.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His head fell to the crook of your neck and he let out a sigh, fingers burying into your skin.

“God, you feel good, Tsukki,” you breathed into his hair. He grunted in response, lips pursing to kiss at your skin. You sighed and tipped your head back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. His hands shifted to your hips and he gripped them tightly, pulling down as you slid over him, making him hit you somehow even deeper. You gasped and threw your arms around his neck.

“Shit,” you whispered as he took control of your pace, pulling you down hard. “Tsukki,” you sighed, ruffling his hair.

“I--” he started, but was cut off by a sweet, choked sound that came from deep in his throat. “Say my name again.”

“Tsukki,” you said. He shook his head against you. As he tipped his head up towards yours, you heard the familar click of the lube cap and felt weight sink onto the edge of the bed. You were unsure who it was until Bokuto let out a strangled gasp. Ah. Keiji really was taking care of him. You pressed a quick kiss against Tsukishima’s lips and leaned your forehead against his.

“Say my name like earlier,” he said. “The other one.” Your eyes widened and you smiled.

“Are you sure, Kei?” you teased. He groaned. “Aw, you like that?” He didn’t respond, but his face was screwed up into a look of concentration and pleasure that almost looked like pain.

“Again.”

“You feel so good, Kei.” He moaned, a sound you didn’t think you were going to be lucky enough to hear. “So good. Fuck, Kei.” You scattered his name into bouts of praise and swearing. He removed one of his hands from you, making you have to keep up the pace with your hips. You didn’t understand why until his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, starting to draw small, focused circles against it. Your hips stuttered out of pace and you moaned, tightening your grip around his neck. You were so oversensitive from Kuroo and Keiji’s advances that the movement on your clit was almost too much. Your breathing was coming in gasps.

“Bokuto-san, relax,” you heard Keiji say, though it felt like it was a thousand miles away.

“Get off of my fucking foot,” Tsukishima said, sounding frustrated even though the words were strained. Your eyebrows pinched together, frustrated.

“Move, Bokuto,” Keiji said, and you felt the weight shift again.

“Kei,” you said, loud enough to give Tsukishima pause. “Don’t pay attention to them.” He looked suprised.

“I --” he started.

“No.” You cut him off with a particularly devastating buck of your hips, and his expression changed. Just a moment later, though, he was glancing behind you at the source of the muffled gasps and whines behind you. You grabbed him by the jaw and stopped moving.

“Open,” you said. His eyebrows knit together.

“What?”

“Open.” You ran your thumb down his bottom lip, holding it for a moment before he complied. You leaned above him and spat.

Shock was the first thing to flash over Tsukki’s eyes, followed very quickly by something dark. He swallowed, staring into your eyes like you just set him on fire.

“Learn your lesson?” you asked. He said nothing, but his hands returned to your hips and dug into them, like he was begging you to move. “Good,” you said through a smile. You began to rock into his lap once more.

He let out a genuine moan, choppy and desperate and gorgeous. It was like that one motion made him yours, completely. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing faster and more desperate circles. You crashed your lips into his, moaning into his mouth as he returned the favor. There was something so intimate in his motions. It was hard to believe this Tsukishima was the same asshole from earlier.

“Fuck, Kei, I’m close,” you said. Tsukki nodded, forehead still pressed against yours.

“Come with me,” he mumbled. If you weren’t so close to him you wouldn’t have believed he said it, but sure enough, you were both leaning against each other like your lives depended on it. He started swearing, small “fuck”s that grew in volume the closer he got. You could feel yourself reaching the peak, eyes squeezing shut and body locking. Right when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, right when you were about to beg Tsukishima to hurry up and finish so you could die against him, his grip around you tightened. He could still move you, riding out his orgasm inside of you, but he squeezed you so close you thought you could shift into his chest if you really wanted to. Your body shook, jerking involuntarily against his thumb. Both of you were panting, and it felt like the world went black around you as you kept your faces pressed together.

You couldn’t tell when the moment ended, but when it did Tsukishima was kissing along your shoulders and allowing you to slump against him, arms barely holding you up.

“Why don’t you lay down?” he whispered, and you nodded, feeling almost drunk. You swung your leg off of him, shuddering at the loss of him inside of you. He laughed at your reaction and pressed a kiss against your forehead as you laid on your back.

“Love, scoot closer,” you heard Keiji say. Fuck. They weren’t done with you yet. You opened your eyes to finally see what had been happening behind you while you were falling apart in Tsukishima’s lap.

Bokuto was laying on his back, legs pitched up slightly. Keiji’s hand was pressed flush up against him, preparing him for who knows what else. Your eyes widened and, without thinking, you did what your boyfriend told you to do.

“Bokuto, turn around,” Keiji said, and Bokuto did as he was instructed. He looked blissed out and shaky, but allowed himself to be pushed forward until his face was laying against one of your thighs. He smiled up at you, as if he was greeting an old friend intead of laying ass up with your boyfriend positioning himself behind him.

“Y/n, open your legs.” Fuck. Bokuto’s cheeks flushed and he turned to look back at Keiji.

“‘Kashi, I--” He was cut off by one slow, perfect thrust by Keiji. You did as you were told, staring up at Keiji’s face in awe. His eyes had closed and he looked unbelievably content.

“You know what to do, Bokuto,” he said. “Just make sure you breathe.”

With that, Bokuto buried his mouth against you.

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, like Keiji’s commands were magic. He had been like this as long as you had known him, but judging by the surprised sounds Kuroo and Tsukki made, it wasn’t the Akaashi they knew.

Bokuto seemed hungry, like you were the one thing holding him back from starvation. His tongue made long strokes against you, making your hips shake. He stopped every so often to focus on your clit, swirling his tongue or sucking harshly. You weren’t even sure what kind of noises you were making at this point, just that someone was making a lot of sound and it was more than likely you. Akaashi’s thrusts were slow and deep, making Bokuto groan against you. It was an overwhelming feeling, your boyfriend fucking someone else into you. With how oversensitive you were, you didn’t think you’d last long.

Your orgasm wasn’t a slow build this time. It was choppy and harsh, almost painful as Bokuto sucked enthusiastically on your clit. Your legs couldn’t stay open on their own, crushing his head between your thighs as you made a panicked noise. The rumble of another groan from Bokuto is what sent you over, back arching and head leaning back into the bed. You were breathless, not making much sound as your body reacted out of your control. You had to push Bokuto off of you and slide away in order to get him to stop. He was so eager it seemed like he would have tried for another if you hadn’t escaped.

Now all you could do was watch as Akaashi leaned forward, taking Bokuto’s cock in his hand and timing movement with his hips. Bokuto was drooling onto the bed, making the sweetest whining noises you had ever heard. He came quickly after that, crying Akaashi’s name into the comforter as his lower body jerked. Akaashi fucked him through it and followed soon behind, face scrunching and breaths coming out as gasps.

Bokuto collapsed against the bed as Keiji pulled out, yanking off the condom and tucking himself back into his slacks like nothing had happened. God, he was a piece of work sometimes.

You stood, collecting your clothing from the floor. You pulled on your shirt, not bothering with your bra. You didn’t even know where it was.

You missed the left leg hole of your pants twice before Kuroo finally wrapped an arm around you and helped you get them up, even buttoning them for you once they were on.

“Well,” you said, but it came out strained. You coughed, smiling up at the group of men. “That was . . .” You couldn’t finish the sentence, letting out a choppy laugh instead.

“That was,” Kuroo agreed, laughing with you.

“If you guys would be willing . . .” Tsukishima said.

“Can we please do that again?” Bokuto said, a bit too loud for the room. Keiji’s eyes grew wide.

“Not right now!” he said. Bokuto laughed.

“Not right now. But sometime?” They all turned to face you, looking precious and eager. You laughed, then sighed heavily.

“Absolutely.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #tsukki smut #tsukki x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #third gym smut #third gym x reader

[n0tamused]

Hello! Hope you're doing well! So I saw that your requests were open so, may I request something about Kakashi's gf being pregnant but being afraid of telling him? (because he lost so many loved ones, she doesn't want to pressure him into being a father idk if that makes sense) Like she's pregnant but it's not visible yet but she as some symptoms already? Kakashi didn't really noticed until someone mentioned it?

It can be a one shot or a drabble, i'm leaving that to you. But I would like it to be fluff if you don't mind 👉🏼👈🏼

It's really specific i guess and I hope ypu don't mind! If it's bothering you in any way feel free to skip it 😊

Have a nice day/night and take care!

Warnings: pregnancy, throwing up, a hint of angst

Words: 2.406

Kakashi Hatake x Reader

The cashier held the packed groceries for Y/N to take. A polite smile ever-present on her face. "Have a wonderful day!"

She managed to smile back and take the bag into her arms. It wasn't the need for groceries that got Y/n to the store, but another item that got her mind running a few nights ago.

The realization hit her then. She didn't even have to take the test to know it was true. A gut wrenching feeling broke throughout her as she was just passing through an alley, a shortcut to Kakashi and her's shared home. Frozen in place, eyes glued to the floor, she felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. Vision getting cloudy and blurry.

She knew Kakashi wouldn't react in a way that would harm her, not in any way, shape or form. But it was hard to deny the fact that it was anxiety inducing, this wasn't something to be taken lightly. Neither of them were planning on kids any time soon. Not to mention the sad history of the Copy-Nin. Even in the beginning of their relationship it took time for him to finally warm up, to really be comfortable with the new intimacy. With receiving such love and care, to finally be safe to be vulnerable. To feel protected and loved and to form an attachment.

The walk home from there felt slow and the wait for the test to show the results was even worse. Nausea raked and coiled in her gut as she sat beside the toilet, having thrown up some time ago. How much time has even passed?

The woman looked forlornly up at the sink where the stick laid. The tiles were cold under her, yet she found herself glued to them, letting the coldness of them seep into her flesh and bones. But eventually she had to get up.

Fear now started to rampage in her system, mind spiraling as her nimble fingers took hold of the test. An unfamiliar haze was brought over her eyes, it made it hard to see but she soon realized that she was staring at two prominent red lines on the small window of the test. Shock. The fear suddenly gone and was replaced with a hollow feeling deep within her which felt even worse. Tears began to sting her eyes again and they came pouring out like a waterfall, in large beads and onto the sink. Cold hands gripped the edge of it for some stability as the woman hunched over it, the test abandoned as the other hand came to knuckle and wipe away the ongoing stream of tears. Silently she let herself cry it out, she couldn't bottle it up any longer. Kakashi wouldn't be home until the sun was already set, and now the sun was still high in the sky.

The woman couldn't look herself in the mirror after that. Hiding the test in her room she decided that it was best to tell her beloved the sooner the better. Hiding it from him would only prolong her fear and anxiety, and she didn't want to imagine the reaction he would have after hearing the news and how much she just waited to tell him. Not to mention it would be quite a task to hide something like this from someone like Kakashi. The evening was spent with a poor attempt to make some food, something to fill the gaping hole in her gut, something to make her feel warmth again. Filled with the vast expanse of helplessness she barely made anything in the end.

When Kakashi arrived home he was met with coldness. Something he became familiar with when Y/n wasn't in the best of moods. He padded through the hall quietly, listening for any sounds that may come, but all he heard was the sound of shuffling. Pushing the door open it unexpectedly creaked, a long cry of the old worn door caused the woman on the bed to startle. Body twisting around like an eel to meet his confused stare.

"Hey, it's just me, love.. What's the matter..?"

He felt worried immediately, he was used to sadness and gloomy moods but he wasn't used to her being so frightened. Not around him. Not on the battlefield and definitely not in the comforts of their shared house.

"Oh I didn't hear you, that's all.."

Came her reply, yet she found yourself moving into him, arms embracing around his middle in a desperate need of comfort. Kakashi didn't hesitate to return the hug, nuzzling his cheek into the side of her head for a moment. Mind running laps in an attempt to figure out what got his belovee like this, but it all came back blank.

"Kakashi I have to talk to you."

The sentence made him stiff, but he nodded and let her lead him to sit on the bed, one arm loosely wrapped around her tense shoulders.

All words that came to her died immediately on her tongue, and swallowing hard her gaze fell to the ground. Eyes threatening to spill tears again but she pushed them back.

"I…"

Y/n tried, but it all felt like bile in her mouth. Not having rest properly,the stress of missions and now this too. It was all catching up to her now. From her peripheral vision she could see the brows of the silver headed ninja furrow in confusion and worry.

"Did something happen? You're looking sickly, are you feeling ill?"

"No."

Her response came a bit too quickly, head shaking before she took a deep breath, exhaling before she looked at him. His eyes searched hers as if he could find the answer that way. Y/n felt horrible. He had gone through enough and all the attempts of telling him about it came to a halt. She couldn't do this to him, not now, he had to rest. She could tell him some time during the week, she told yourself.

"I just… it was a long day, I barely got any rest last night too. I missed you Kakashi.."

His expression suddenly lightened but it did not lose its worry and confusion. She had slept alone the last few nights before work prevented him from coming home at all, so he understood. Yet he couldn't help but feel something was amiss. A small voice at the back of his head whispering something incoherent.

"I missed you too."

He replied and pulled her into another embrace. Sighing out his worry he focused solely on caressing her, hoping that would ease the stress and worries of that day. And it seemed to work. For the rest of the night they both rested in each other's arms, leading a small talk about random things, it eased both of them and even made them forget about worries and fears. In the morning, when Kakashi was getting dressed and Y/n, watching him with sleep heavy eyelids, he came to crouch before her and kiss her on the forehead. Telling her something about how he'll leave Pakkun with her that day. Smiling when he saw you blink at him, trying to grasp at his words. In the end she only nodded and attempted to wipe away the sleep from her eyes as he left.

And as promised, Pakkun remained at her side. He would occasionally chip in to say something, and even the nin asked if she were alright, saying how something felt off now. Y/N only nodded, everything was fine.

Y/N missed going on missions but ever since she started feeling so ill, she was given several days off, not that she had any choice but to accept as even Kakashi was fussing that she couldn't fight in such a condition.

In the middle of the day the nausea returned. Y/N have just eaten freshly prepared lunch and it all came back up soon after. Toppled over the toilet seat she took in a mouthful of air when she finally felt her gut settle down. Pakkun sat at the door to the bathroom, worried look plastered on his canine face.

"Hey, you should really go and visit a medic. This has been going on for a while, it can't be any good."

She heard him say through buzzing ears, a static feeling coursing through her as an after effects of having thrown up. Pushing herself away she stood on shaky legs, feeling a tad bit better but awfully tired. Only a nod came in response to his words before she padded into the living room to sit down only to end up passing away on the couch. Head feeling heavier and heavier until she felt the plush material of the couch press against the side of her face. Hands curled around a pillow she placed over her stomach, some semblance of comfort and warmth coming from it.

Meanwhile Pakkun slowly waltzed into the bedroom, hoping to find a blanket he could drag back to Y/N. Taking the corner of the folded blanket in his maw he moved back, paws pushing into the slippery surface of the polished wood. Groaning he forcefully pulled, the blanket now flying out from under the rest of the folded sheets, making Pakkun fly back and hit the work desk. If it weren't for the clank of something falling from the top drawer, the ninken would've ignored it. But the item that fell at his paws even made him stop in his tracks. His ears pinned back in surprise. It fit like a puzzle piece, the girl's weird illness finally made sense. He figured Kakashi didn't know, otherwise he would've said something along the lines of that his partner was pregnant.

Nonetheless, Pakkun figured out why that was the case too, he knew Y/N well enough, but seeing how things were going he decided to tell Kakashi on his own. To spare her some of the stress of it all. Before he took his leave he did manage to drape the soft blanket over the woman's figure, having had to jump on the couch and do quite some pulling to get it over her all while staying silent.

Pakkun found Kakashi just when he was heading home, in one of the paths between two houses that he called a shortcut. Abruptly halting the ninken panted, his gaze narrowing at Kakashi's figure.

"Hey boss. I have something to tell you."

Pakkun started, perched up on one of the roof ledges where he stared down at Kakashi who didn't quite expect him to see him there. Exposed eye widened at the sight of him, the worst coming to his mind.

"What are you- is Y/N alright?"

The silver head blurted out before he could think of anything else, hands falling out of his pockets. Kakashi already felt a small tightness in his chest, anxiety creeping up on him.

"Y/N is just fine, but why I'm here does concern her."

Pakkun responded as he made his way down from the roof, hopping from ledge to window and window and to the ground. Now standing in front of Kakashi he huffed and looked up at him.

"You really should look into bigger homes, you're gonna get a small addition soon."

At that Kakashi looked at him, guffawed. Silence followed soon after Pakkun spoke, Kakashi at loss of words as he still tried to make out the riddle the sentence represented. "What..are you saying?"

Kakashi looked at Pakkun quizzically, even as the puzzle pieces slowly fell in his head as well, he was still slow to fully process the information.

"Y/n is with a child, Kakashi."

---------

When you woke the next time the sun had already been setting, only the small arch of the sun was visible on the horizon. The sky painted in warm and vibrant colors of orange and red. Your head swam with the unconscious, still not grasping the sensation of being awake yet. Eyes blinking lazily at the bedroom window. Wait…

Finally breathing in you felt the blanket tucked around you. Yet Kakashi was not there with you. A small sense of panic grasped you as you sat up, looking around. Sleep hazed mind sent you into a frantic state and almost instantly you found yourself searching for the pregnancy stick where you hid it. It wasn't there. It was not there. Pushing books and papers aside you still couldn't find it. It was not there.

"Y/n."

Kakashi's voice rang out and you turned around. He wasn't wearing his uniform, nor his mask. A simple gray shirt clung to his figure along with some black sweatpants. He held the door open with his hand, a small hint of worry was present on his face. His lips pressed together in a thin line before he approached you and pulled you into himself. You now knew that he knew. A shaky breath escaped you as you still waited for him to speak up first but that never came. He just held you there, caressing up and down your back.

"Kakashi… "

You started but your voice soon trailed off.

"I know. Pakkun told me today." He stated simply, nose brushing against your hair and inhaling your scent.

"Oh… I was planning on telling you myself.. I just didn't...I didn't know how to tell you last night.. I'm sorry."

You felt him nod against you, humming in response. And to your surprise, you felt him smile.

"It's alright. I'm not angry… It is a bit surprising but I could never be angry at you, not for this.. Please do not feel afraid anymore, it's alright."

Kakashi reassured, pulling away just enough to move his hands to cup the sides of your face. Looking into your eyes he saw the anxiety you held melt away, his own anxiety disappearing as well. He felt nothing but pure love for you. He wouldn't like anyone else to start a family with but you.

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to your temple, holding you like that for a moment before he pulled away. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips, a smile you soon mirrored when you saw it. Leaning down slowly he pulled you into a kiss, you meeting him half way and smiling into the kiss.

#kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x y/n #naruto x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi oneshot #n0tamused oneshot #n0tamused writes

[luimagines]

Hay! Love these soooo much (a little too much but whatever) I really want to see something like, the reader and the Links go on a small date or a have a cute/touching moment idk! But love ur stuff! Keep doin ur thing!

Masterlist

I'll be happy to provide the content! So don't worry about loving it too much! It's there to be loved! Just like the Links!

Speaking of, it's now date night with The Chain.

Part 1 will include Hyrule, Sky and Warrior.

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

"Psst..." You turn your head when someone tugs on your sleeve. They're quick to lace your fingers together and lean close to your ear, lining your whole side with their own.

It's Hyrule and he's got a mischievous grin, almost a smirk, on his face. "You want to ditch them?"

You bite your lip trying to not snort at his implication. You whisper back, trying to be inconspicuous to the rest of the group. "How do you suppose we do that?"

"We go to the back and just start walking slower than the rest of them." He presses a little closer to your ear and his breath tickles.

You can't help the small giggle that escapes at the sensation lean away a little.

"Do you have to do that now?" Legend groans from somewhere behind you. "Ignore his sweet nothings. Can’t you wait to be all lovey dovey when we're not around?"

"Sorry." You respond on instinct.

Hyrule takes his moment to smirk at the other and says, "Walk in front of us if it bothers you so much."

"I didn't know you had this side to you 'Rule." Legend places a hand on his chest in mock hurt. But he walks and eventually passes you with a mild roll of his eyes. "I don't care if you're together, just keep the PDA quiet."

"It was quiet."

"Not to my eyes."

"I didn't know you can hear with your eyes."

You snort and swing your hand and Hyrule's a little in what can only be described as pure joy.

Legend snickers a little and keeps walking, separating himself from you two but not making any more comments.

"Good." Hyrule whispers when Legend is far enough away. "Now we just need to get far enough away from Warrior and Wind."

"Where we would we go?" You ask him, resting your head against his as you walk. "When we ditch them, I mean."

Hyrule shrugs. "Anywhere you want. As long as I'm with you, I don't mind."

"We could just wander around." You shrug as well. "I wasn't planning on escaping the group but if that's what you want then I don't mind."

"That sounds perfect."

You walk like that for a moment, hand in hand, your head on his shoulder and a content smile on your lips.

Hyrule moves away from you as he turns to look behind you. When he doesn’t find anything, he whips back to face with what you can only say is one f the biggest smiles he can produce. He places a quick finger to his lips and takes a step to the side, pulling you along gently and soon.. You’re both off of the trail.

You both walk whatever distance needed to be out of earshot before you share a look and take off running into the thicker foliage.

A laugh dances on your breath as Hyrule leads you further and further into the forest without the others to keep an eye on you.

He laughs along with you and eventually comes to a stop and lets the natural forest sounds encompass you. “I think we’re good now.”

“Good.” You grip his hands a little tighter and pull him with you. “Let’s go explore!”

“Ok.” Hyrule’s voice softens and follows you, never once letting go of your hand. He allows you to take the lead this time and spends most of it watching you instead of the scenery around you two. He knows he should be a little more aware of his surroundings, especially now that you’re separated from the group but he can’t help it. He’s completely captivated by you.

“Any particular reason you wanted to get away Link?” You tug him closer and let his hand go, hugging his arm to your chest instead as you walk.

“I just wanted some time with you...”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s it, really!”

You snort and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I suppose Legend did say that we should be away from the group to be all lovey dovey. We have to take every opportunity we get.”

“Don’t...” Hyrule snickers and rests his head on top of yours. 

“You’re blushing~!” You grin.

“I just can’t believe you’re here with me.” Hyrule sighs. “I can’t believe I’d be so blessed to have you in my life.”

“Oh so you can say things like that but I can’t even imply it?”

“I love you.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” You snort but let it slide. You don’t want to push him too far from his comfort zone. “This is nice. I like this, Link. I like being with you.”

“We should do this more often then.”

“The group would kill us if we tried and I’m not willing to deal with disappointed Wolfie time and time again.” You pout. “He’s too expressive for his own good.”

“That’s true.” Hyrule shrugs. “So lets make the most of this while we can.”

“Ok!”

Sky

“SSKKYY!!” You yell and run to him, your call being his only warning before you jump on his back and wrap yourself around him.

Sky stumbles for a second before his arms come to his sides and wrap around your legs, pushing himself up and stabilizing you against him. “Well hello to you too!”

“How are you on this fine day my darling?” You throw your weight to the side and lean over his shoulder, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I’m ok.” He laughs a bit and leans his head a bit to give you a kiss as well. “You’re in a good mood. I can only imagine why.”

You beam. “I have an idea.”

“There it is.” 

“Will you be willing to hear me out?” You ask and try to put on the biggest puppy eyes you can manage. “Please.”

Sky snorts and nods, letting his amusement show freely on his face. “Sure. Go for it. Let’s hear it.”

“Time says there’s a village nearby.” You begin. “We should go check it out! Just you and me, what do you say?”

Sky stops in his tracks and he turns his head to look at you. “Really? How far is it?”

“It’s a bit of a walk.” You tap on his shoulder and he lets you down easily enough. “Thirty minutes at least but we don’t need to rush.”

Sky looks absolutely delighted by the idea but something crosses his mind. “The others would want to come along...”

“Let them! We can lose them in the village.” You shrug and lace your fingers together. 

“Ok then. Let’s go!” Sky takes a step and together you both make your way to the center of the group and call out your intentions.

Naturally, three others insist on going with you and with Warrior, Legend and Four, you start off on your journey toward the little village to see if you can stock up on supplies.

At least, that’s what the other three want to do.

You don’t let go of Sky’s hand once and Sky’s mature enough to admit that the thought of you enjoying his company pleases him immensely. 

The village comes into view soon enough and the trio that joined you breaks off with little to no fuss. You stare at their retreating forms with confusion and admittedly a little suspicion. “I thought they’d want to drag us along.”

“So did I, but let’s not question it.” Sky pulls you closer to his side and instead wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Is there anything you wanted to do?”

You’re quick to wrap your arm around his waist and lean into his side comfortably. “No, not really. I just wanted to be alone with you. I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

“Well, you have me and we’re alone with no other responsibilities to take care of right now. I say we sight see.”

“I’d like that.” You grin up at him and together you begin to make your way through the humble village just taking a walk through the bustling people going about their day and pause to watch a street performer.

You’ve never seen the likes of it. Most likely this was merely a man who was tasked to watch and entertain the children but he’s gathered a crowd by this point and doesn’t look to be stopping his show any time soon. He’s been juggling small balls with what sounds likes beans inside of them and slowly but surely he’s been adding more to the mix.

Entranced you watch as it gets more complicated and within moments, before you even realize what he’s been doing, you notice that he’s replaced the balls with small glass bottles and has begun juggling those instead without once stopping.

“Goodness, we can never let this man and Wild meet.” Sky mutters under his breath.

You snort a little louder than you intend to, gaining a few looks from the people now standing next to you. “You’re so right. Even worse would be if Wind joined us. The little pirate might have the poor man juggling knifes by the end of it.”

“That would be less ideal than the flames, I’d admit.” Sky smirks.

“Oh, when you said Wild I was thinking he’d get the man to teach him, not add on to it.”

“Either way, we shouldn’t let it happen.” 

“Very true.” You sigh and lean against your boyfriend, resting your head against his own. “Hey Link?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“You’re welcome. I’d join you any time.” He smiles and places a kiss on the top of your head. “Should we continue?”

“Sure.”

Warrior

"Hey, are you awake?" You hear your beloved's voice in your ear.

"Hm?" You blink a little and look up. "Link? Are you ok?"

"Come on." Warrior grins and shakes your shoulder a little. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

You take a breath and sit up, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the remainder of sleep. "Is something happening?"

"Shhh..." He puts a gentle finger on your lips. "Just follow me, Love."

You nod and get up with his help, and hold his hand as he takes the lead away from the camp. When you're a little further away, you look back at your sleeping group. "Where are we going? Isn't it your watch?"

"I already checked the perimeter. We're safe." He's quick to quell your concerns and it's then that you see that he has a basket hanging from his forearm. "And I found this spot that perfect for this!"

You start to feel a little more awake and grip his hand tighter. "Are we doing what I think we're doing?"

He winks.

"Link..." You grin and bite your little to keep yourself from giggling uncontrollably. "We can't get caught."

"We won't, trust me." Warrior begins to pull you a little faster an tries to get the spot he found while on patrol. "Here."

He lets you go and begins to pull out a blanket from the basket, setting up the area for you.

You gasp and stand there, stunned by what you see. The view of the stars is gorgeous- it's crystalline and wonderous with the tree line opening up just enough to frame the picturesque vision.

"Come here. Come sit down." Warrior grins widely at your reaction and takes your hand, guiding you to the blanket he's set on the ground. You follow him wordlessly, staring above you with your mouth agape. He sits you down and watches you.

"It's beautiful." You whisper.

Warrior smirks, keeping his gaze on you. "I know, isn't it?"

"Not that I'm complaining-" You take a breath and finally gaze in his direction. "-but why?"

"We don't spend a lot of time together." He explains.

"We travel everyday together." You snort.

"Time alone together." He reiterates.

You grin and lean backwards, placing your arm behind the both of you to rest your head on his shoulder. "Well this is perfect. Thank you, I love it."

"I have more."

"No way." You lean forward and turn to face him, absolutely delighted at the idea.

Warrior smirks and shoves his hand in the basket again, taking out a small container. He leans away from you for a moment to open it and you gasp at the sight.

Cake.

It's your favorite.

"How did-? When did-?" You grin and bounce a little to face him head on.

"When we were in your Hyrule, you mentioned it and I've been saving this for a good moment." Warrior smiles in delight at your reaction, clearly finding his own joy in yours.

"I can't believe you remembered." You gasp and feel your heart swell. "Is it still good?"

"I kept in my all purpose magic bag." He snorts. "Yes, it's still good."

You beam at him and go take it but he holds it just beyond your reach. "Wha-?"

He takes out a fork and takes a bit from the piece, holding out for you to eat.

"Oh." You blush a little and bite it, letting him feed you. "You're so cheesy."

"You love it."

"I love you."

"I love you too." He leans back and you get comfortable against him once more, letting him feed you in the quiet intervals of the night as you look at the stars.

Warrior pulls his scarf around the both of you like a blanket and wraps his arm around your shoulders from under it.

"Thank you Link." You look up at him lean upward to kiss his cheek. "This is nice."

"Anything for you."

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #man sky is hard for me to write #I dunno why #He's so nice! #I never feel like I do him justice! #I wrote Warrior's first though #It was the first idea that I thought of and had to get it out