#deviser cast

[fears-for-your-ears]

DEVISER

Official Website Listen on Spotify Created by: Harlan Guthrie Aired: 2023 Episodes: 7, complete

DEVISER is a Sci-Fi Horror Audio Drama, created by Harlan Guthrie. In this series Son wakes up aboard a spaceship bound for earth in an effort to recolonize. What he discovers however will change everything he knows about his world and himself.

A short, space horror series about a man on a spaceship full of cryosleeping colonists, and how things go wrong. The ship's computer engages with him as a kind of callback to Malevolent. It's a limited series so to say much more would be spoilers!

Perfect for space horror fans looking for gore + "what does it mean to be human" type philosophizing in a compact package.

[parf-fan]

Things I learned from the final day of PARF's new Dickens Fair (which they don't call a Dickens Fair for some reason): it is, in fact, possible to perform a shitpost live on stage.

[hexescore]

oh and by the way, i love you.

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, sevika, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: first 'i love you's with (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. pre-established relationship (caitlyn, jinx, mel, viktor). friends-to-lovers (ekko, jayce, sevika, vi).

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

It's quiet, the early morning blessing you both with a peaceful silence that allows you two to truly appreciate the sight in front of you— each other. Caitlyn enjoys moments like this, waking up with you, getting to see the way the rising sun filters through her curtains to cast a golden glow across your skin.

Her hand, which is in yours, gives a gentle squeeze. You give her a sleepy smile, and she chuckles as she leans in to press a quick peck to your lips, and then another, and another, before you're both shuffling together, closer. Legs and arms entangled, a slowness in you both knowing that neither of you have to leave anytime soon.

"You know," She whispers, her eyes shut. She had imagined how she'd say this a million times, wondered when it'd be the right time, but Caitlyn quickly realizes that perhaps the right time is the time she makes to say it. So she makes the time. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you pull away to look at her. Her eyes open, and you can see the panic flashing in her eyes- was it too soon? did she get confused? had she-

"I love you, too." Her tense form immediately relaxes again, and she buries her head into your neck, shaking her head as she lets out a breathless laugh. You laugh along with her, both of you feeling nerves and excitement at those words.

"Don't scare me like that," she whines against your skin. Indulging this rare side of Caitlyn, you gently pat her back, cooing at her.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry, won't happen again." You'll definitely respond faster next time!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

EKKO

Ekko had been acting quite strange as of late, and had you been any less keen you'd just assume he was busy- but this was different, he was most definitely avoiding you! Which is why you devised a plan to corner him and get to the bottom of this whole situation.

It was like any other day, except you had been lying in wait. Waiting, and waiting, until he was finally alone. You continued to follow him to a secluded area. "Ekko." He tensed up, but recovered quickly as he turned to glance at you.

"Oh, uh, hey, what's up?" Was he serious? You cross your arms over your chest, giving him a pointed look. Ekko's guilty conscious is clear as day when it comes to you, from the way his Adam's apple bobs to the way his fist clench and unclench. You frown.

"Ekko..." He doesn't say anything. "Alright, I'll ask it. Why have you been avoiding me?" He falters, looking ashamed. He knew it was wrong to avoid you, but when he came to realize how intense his emotions were for you it freaked him out. He hadn't... He didn't mean to... well, fall in love, during such a time.

The silence is heavy, and you debate just leaving, before Ekko clears his throat. "There are things that I've been meaning to tell ya... I'm just having a hard time finding the words..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Like?" You press, needing to know what has been so hard to say that he's been avoiding you.

"Like... I love you?"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

"Jayce? What are you doing?" Jayce, with his hand respectfully on your lower back, guides you away from the boring and artificial conversations of Piltover's finest. He excuses you both, much to your dismay. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere private," He says through a tense smile. You soon find yourself down the hall, away from the party but still able to hear it's chatter. It seems Jayce hadn't prepared for what comes after he got you away from those flirty elites.

"Well?" You ask, head tilted in a questioning way. "Are you going to explain why you so rudely pulled me away? I was about to get some nice funding for your-" Jayce cuts you off, desperation rolling off of him in waves.

"Because I love you," He says, "And I can't stand to see them look at you, touch you-" He stops to take a deep breath before he gets himself too worked up. "Look, I know... I know you probably don't feel the same, and I understand if you don't, but-"

"Jayce," You call once, and like an obedient dog he stops everything he's doing. Instead he waits, hanging on to your words. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you pull him into a kiss. It's needy, filled with want and love and passion. Until you can't breath, you wait until you can't breathe to pull away, and look him in the eyes.

"I love you."

For the first time that night, Jayce's lips curl into a genuine smile. It's so bright and warm you get weak in the knees and butterflies in your stomach.

"Can we ditch the party now?"

"Oh definitely."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JINX

"Wrench!" Jinx calls dramatically, hand stuck out and awaiting her tool- which you promptly hand to her, repeating her words 'wrench.' She giggles as she grasps the wrench and twists a few bolts on her latest invention.

When she finishes, she takes in inhale of breath, ready to shout the next tool she needs, but already in her hand is a can of spray paint. She blinks a few times- how did you know? She grins, looking back at you, before looking at the can of spray paint.

"This is why I love you, ya know that?" She says, not really processing the words until you say them back to her.

"You... You love me?" The shock is evident in your voice. It's not that Jinx hasn't shown her love, her affections, for you, but this is the first time she's vocalized them and it has your heart hammering in your chest. She blinks a few times, lifting her goggles to rest on top her head.

"I did say that, didn't I?" She says, more to herself than to you. She then looks you in the eyes, that sparkle in them has your throat tightening up. "Yeah, I love you." You try to speak, truly, but you can't get a word out. "Jeez, is it that surprising, thought it was obvious?"

"No, it's just-" You finally manage to speak. Actually, you finally manage to get a good look at her. Her cheeks are a little flushed, she's fiddling with her tools, she's nervous- she's vulnerable- and you feel a protective instinct come on. "I love you, too- I really, really love you."

She laughs nervously, turning away from you. That's enough emotional vulnerability she's willing to share today. "Yeah, yeah, let's not get too mushy, 'kay?" You don't push it, instead nodding along. "Uh, anyways... Hand me that wrench again...!"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

MEL MEDARDA

"You don't have to say it back," Mel Medarda has always been diplomatic, even in your relationship. She's also always been rather guarded, keeping all her cards close to her chest- but she allows you from time-to-time to catch a peak behind her walls. "I just wanted to let you know. I... I love you."

Undoubtedly, you love her back. You've loved her from the moment she smiled at you- Mel was hard not to love. Which is why you're having a hard time responding, because how could you even possibly begin to explain just how much you love her?

Mel begins to grow withdrawn, those small anxieties nipping away at her mind. Did you not feel the same way? Had she embarrassed herself with her little display? Did she ruin this relationship in one phrase? She takes a step away from you, wondering if she should take her leave.

Thankfully before than can happen, you've caught her wrist and meet her eyes.

"I love you, too." A breath of relief leaves you both. "Mel, I... I can't even begin to explain, I mean, it's just that you... god, you, you definitely deserve a better response than this mess but, I mean it, truly. I love you. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. I'll always- I'll always love you."

"Darling..." Mel started to feel flustered, your earnest rambling getting her cool and collected persona to crack a little. "I get it."

"Right, sorr-" Before you can apologize for your cute, anxious rambling, Mel shuts you up with a kiss. Something that symbolizes that you both understand just how much you both mean to each other.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SEVIKA

Sevika can't help but crack a smile at your antics sometimes. She's watching you with a close eye as you dance in an exaggerated way, being goofy in a way that's so very rare in the undercity. She shakes her head as you sit in the seat across from her, wiggling your brows. "Dance with me?"

"Not a chance in hell." She snorts, "How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me." Sevika takes a drink, not noticing what she said. You, on the other hand, have gone still. "What's wrong with you now?" She asks, already exasperated.

"You love me?"

"What're you-... Shit." She definitely didn't mean to say that, but now that it's out there, she might as well commit. She downs the rest of her drink, clears her throat, and looks away from you.

"And if I do? Would that be a problem?"

"Not at all- I love you, too!" Your enthusiasm has her taken aback once more. She looks at you incredulously, searching your face for any sign of lying or messing with her. She finds nothing but genuine love. Shit, shit, shit. Sevika was so totally unsure on how to handle this.

"You love me, huh?" When you nod, eagerly, Sevika bites her cheek. Well... She supposes if it's you, she could try and give it a shot. "I guess, yeah, I do love you... so... what're we gonna do about that?"

You had a few ideas.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

"Yes, yes, I understand." Viktor says as he wraps the scarf you gifted him around his neck. "I'll be back tonight for dinner, not to worry." You don't really believe him when he says that, still you help him zip up his winter coat.

"If you're not," You say, taking a step closer, your lips hovering over his. "I'll personally drag you back here." Your lips meet his and he hums into the kiss, pulling away with a small smile.

"I'll be here." You just hum dismissively. You'll believe when you see it. He rolls his eyes at your sass, opening the door and stepping out. "Alright, I'll see you then. Goodbye, I love you." He closes the door, and just as quickly he's trying to pry it back open.

You're laughing your ass off on the other side of the door whilst Viktor's ears turn red. "Dear, please, open the door, I forgot my keys... and I need to say those words properly..." he groans, his head resting against the door. After a few seconds, the clicks unlock and it opens to reveal you, tears in your eyes from laughing.

"This is not funny."

"It's a little funny." You tease, handing Viktor his keys. "I lov-"

"Wait," He halts you. "Let me... Let me say it properly." His blush moves from his ears to his cheeks. He takes your hand and presses a sweet kiss to it, looking up at you through his lashes. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Viktor."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VI

You're patching her up after a particularly brutal beating. Her job, these missions, can get pretty violent, and it's always up to you to heal her wounds. 'I don't trust any other doctor,' she explains before you inform her that you are not a doctor. Despite that she still finds you after every fight she gets herself in.

You sigh, cleaning a nasty cut on her face. "You've got to be more careful." You tsk, reveling in the way she hisses at the disinfectant. It's what she deserves after scaring you to death all these times.

"Worried 'bout my pretty face?" You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

"More like your brain- I'm afraid you can't afford to lose anymore braincells." She laughs at your snark. She likes that about you, likes everything about you, actually. Her hands find your waist, pulling you closer to her. You huff, pulling back to get a better look at her wounds.

"Hey," Vi calls, and you just hum in response. "I love you." You freeze, before looking down at her with wide eyes.

"Did you actually get brain damage-" She bites back another laugh, shaking her head. "Vi...?"

"I love you. Have for a while, so no, this isn't a brain damage confession." Oh. You falter for a second, hands shaky as you finish placing the band-aid on her cheek.

"If you're messing with me-"

"I'm not." She insists, earnest in her affections. "So... Do you-"

"Yes." You mumble, turning your face to hide it from her. "I... Love you, too, Violet."

[importantpuppystarfish]

Punishment and Destruction of Newjeans - Kim Minji by her CEOs

Male reader (CEOs) x Minji

Warning: Gangbang, kidnapping, very much hardcore & rough, humiliation, degrading, whipping, vomits, anal, triple penetration, ass gaping, extreme deepthroat, total mess & pissing.

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and stuff, this can be uncomfortable to read so if ur weak hearted or a fluff enjoyer, typically do not read.

~~~

Minji, the 20-year-old rising star at Newjeans of ADOR, HYPE, has become the agency’s golden ticket, her ethereal beauty and captivating performances propelling her group to global fame. Standing at 5'5" and weighing just slim, her skinny frame, long black hair, and wide, expressive eyes make her a fan favorite, but they also attract the sinister attention of the agency’s CEOs—older, overweight men in their late 40s to mid-50s, each weighing between 280–310 lbs. Ever since, Newjeans started to function on its own after leaving the agency, these CEOs, driven by a toxic mix of greed, jealousy, and perverse desire, have grown resentful of their success, believing her fame overshadows their own power in the industry. They’ve long harbored a dark obsession with her, seeing her as a symbol of their agency’s success but also a possession to dominate, a way to assert their control in a world where they feel increasingly irrelevant. They first plan to target starting from the oldest - Minji.

On the night of her independent group’s concert, the CEOs devise a plan to kidnap Minji, intending to break her spirit and bind her to them through a depraved ritual they believe will ensure the Agency’s dominance in the industry, a twisted act they justify as a “sacrifice” for the company’s future. They lure her to a late-night “emergency meeting” at the agency’s studio to talk about discussions of letting Newjeans rejoin the agency again, so they called the leader - Minji.

Although Minji was about go to a concert that night with the outfit on the first picture, she decided to meet the CEOs instead and let the other members- Hanni, Daniellie, Hyein and Haerin peform for her.

~~~

As she arrives the agency building, literally when she was walking in the stairs, one guy grabs her, pressing a cloth soaked in sedative to her face, her slender body going limp as she’s whisked away to a secluded, its mirrored walls reflecting the horror about to unfold.

Minji wakes up in a few minutes, her head pounding, her body tied to a cold metal table in the dimly lit warehouse, the flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows on the mirrored walls. She’s still in her concert outfit - a black sleeveless top and ruffled skirt - but her stockings and boots are gone, leaving her legs bare and vulnerable. Panic surges through her as she sees her four CEOs surrounding her, their fat bodies looming like grotesque shadows, their eyes glinting with malice. “Why… why are you doing this? What happened” [in Korean] she seeks for explanation with a rude face, her voice trembling, her mind racing with fear and confusion. She thinks of her fans, her group members, and the dreams she’s worked so hard for, now unsure what will happen. “You’re a bitch Minji,” one CEO sneers, his voice dripping with contempt, “You think you’re the star? We made you famous and now your whole group left us, and we’ll break you to keep our agency on top… How dare you guys leave our agency..” Another CEO chuckles darkly, adding, “This is your sacrifice for the company—your body for our success. First is you, next is Hanni”.. Minji’s heart sinks upon hearing this, her thoughts a whirlwind of despair—she wants to scream, to fight, but the ropes binding her arms and legs leave her helpless, her skinny frame trembling as she realizes the depth of their depravity.

~~~

The ordeal begins with a degrading act of forced intimacy, as one CEO grabs Minji’s face, his chubby fingers digging into her cheeks, and forces his lips onto hers, his breath reeking of alcohol and cigarettes.

He kisses her aggressively, his tongue invading her mouth, and spits a thick wad of saliva into it, the taste bitter and nauseating, making Minji gag as she tries to turn her head away. Minji tries to push but shes full tied up.. She wants to break the mouthful kiss badly.

“Swallow it, you little bitch,” the CEO growls, giving Minji a hard slap on her cheek to enforce his command.. Next, another CEO takes his turn, pressing his lips to hers, his saliva mixing with the first CEO’s, the slimy exchange leaving Minji’s mouth coated in their spit, her stomach churning with disgust. She thinks of how she’s been reduced from a beloved idol to a plaything, her tears streaming down her face as the CEOs laugh, their voices echoing in the warehouse, “She’s learning her place already!” The forced kissing lasts for several minutes, each CEO taking multiple turns, slapping her face rough, their and Minji's saliva dripping down her chin, the act a humiliating prelude to the horrors ahead, as Minji’s mind screams for escape, her body unable to resist their overpowering strength.

The CEOs escalate their assault, their anger and obsession boiling over into violence, as one CEO rips off Minji’s concert outfit, tearing the fabric with his bare hands, leaving her naked and exposed on the metal table, her skinny 5'5" body, healthy frame shivering in the cold air. Another CEO grabs a leather belt from his waist, his fat fingers gripping it tightly, and without any warning or signs, begins whipping her, the belt lashing across her chest, face and stomach, each strike leaving red welts on her pale skin, the pain sharp and searing. "AHHH NO, STOP. please-!" [Minji screams in pain in Korean]… “You think you’re better than us?” the CEO shouts, his voice filled with rage, as he delivers another lash, this time across her chest, making Minji cry out, her voice hoarse with agony. Another CEO steps forward, his fist clenched, and punches her in the stomach, the impact knocking the wind out of her, her skinny body doubling over, her mind screaming for it to stop, “Please, I can’t take this,” she thinks, but the beatings continue, the CEOs taking turns punching her arms, thighs, and stomach, their blows leaving bruises on her fragile frame, while a third CEO whips her back with the belt, the sound of leather against skin echoing in the mirrored room as the nonstop beatings continues, Minji’s screams keep growing louder and louder due to more pain.

—she wonders if she’ll survive this, if her career, her life, will ever be the same. The beatings continue for what feels like an eternity, the CEOs taking turns punching her arms, thighs, and stomach, their blows leaving bruises on her fragile frame, while another CEO whips her back with the belt, the sound of leather against skin echoing in the warehouse, Minji’s screams growing weaker as her strength fades, her mind clinging to the hope that someone might save her. As the CEOs untie Minji from the table, the CEOs then, Minji now being untied, force her to sit on the concrete floor, her bruised body trembling with exhaustion, her mind a whirlwind of fear and humiliation.

Two CEOs position themselves in front of her, their fat bodies blocking her view of the mirrors, and begin a hardcore deepthroat, one CEO grabbing her hair and shoving his penis into her mouth with ruthless force, the act so rough that Minji’s throat constricts.

Just after 3 minutes of the deepthroat, Minji starts to feel she is about to vomit, her gag reflex kicking in as she vomits, the bile spilling out around his penis and dripping down her chin, “Look at this slut, puking already!” he laughs, pulling her hair harder, forcing her to take him deeper, while the other CEO takes his turn, his penis equally forceful, “Swallow it, you filthy whore—taste your own mess!” he taunts, the deepthroating relentless as Minji vomits again, the mess coating her chest and the floor, her thoughts a blur of shame, “I guess I’m nothing to them,” she thinks, her throat raw and burning.

As she struggles to swallow the vomit, one CEO begins to piss into her mouth, the warm, acrid stream mixing with the bile, “Drink it down, you disgusting bitch—puke and piss, that’s all you’re good for!” he mocks, the other CEO laughing, “She can’t even keep it down—what a pathetic little whore!” Minji gags violently, the taste overwhelming, her mind reeling with disgust as the CEOs continue their deepthroats, each act causing her to retch, more vomits and piss inside her mouth, her once-shining star persona reduced to a broken shell.

~~~

The gangbang reaches its most extreme phase as three of the CEOs focus on Minji’s lower backside body, their obsession with her anus (as they have seen Minji shake her ass a lot in concerts) glorifying it as the “ultimate thing to destroy” of their twisted ritual. They get flashbacks of Minji's ass in the concerts.

"Oh guys look! It's soo tight, bet she is still a virgin.. We are gonna break her today!" the guy says as he licks the fresh asshole of Minji, it does tastes delicious. They position her on her back on the floor, her legs spread wide, her skinny frame barely able to support their weight as they prepare for triple penetration in both her vagina and anus.

One CEO kneels between her legs, his strong fingers spreading her anus, “This shithole is ours now, boys—let’s make it a masterpiece,” he says, his voice filled with perverse reverence, before he and two other CEOs each insert their penises into her anus simultaneously, the combined girth stretching her tight as fuck anus to a 6-inch diameter, the pain unbearable as Minji screams super extreme loud now, her voice echoing off the mirrored walls, her thoughts a chaotic mix of agony.

Minji shouts “My body can’t take this—I’m going to break!” Simultaneously, the same three CEOs perform triple penetration in her vagina, their penises stretching her vagina to its limits. The triple penetrations on her anus and pussy pushed Minji’s body to a breaking point, her cries drowned out by their grunts, “She’s taking it all—our perfect little slut!” one CEO shouts, while another adds, “Her shithole is a work of art—stretch it wider, boys!” Minji’s mind is a haze of pain, her body trembling uncontrollably, her anus and vagina sore from the extreme penetrations, the CEOs’ glorification of her shithole making the act even more degrading, as she feels like nothing more than a vessel for their depravity.

The CEOs take their advantage on Minji’s shithole to an even more extreme level, deciding to stretch it beyond human limits, their hands becoming tools of torment as they seek to gape her anus like a “black hole.”

One CEO and another CEO position themselves on either side of her, their strong fat hands gripping her buttocks, while a third CEO joins in, each inserting their fingers—four fingers per hand, totaling 12 fingers—into her anus, pulling outward with immense force, “Let’s open this shithole up, boys—make it a black hole for our little whore!” one CEO laughs, his voice filled with sadistic glee, as they stretch her anus upto 10-inch diameter, the opening so large it defies human anatomy, the surrounding skin stretched thin and red, the dark interior visible to all.

Minji suffers from extreme horrible pain, screaming in agony, her thoughts a desperate plea, “They’re tearing me apart—I can’t survive this!”

The CEOs marvel at their work, one CEO launching as her asshole now being extremely stretched, “Minji, you don’t clean your anus? It has all shit inside—omg, she hasn't done any bowel movement, guys!” as they notice the large amounts of fecal matter in her rectum, the smell pungent and earthy, another CEO adding, “What a dirty bitch—her shithole’s a mess, just like her!”

They continue to stretch her anus, their hands pulling relentlessly, the gaping asshole now a cavernous void, the CEOs laughing at her humiliation, “Look at this black hole—we’ve ruined her asshole for good!” Minji’s mind is a storm of pain and shame, her body trembling as the CEOs’ words cut deeper than their hands, her once-pristine image as a K-pop idol shattered.

~~~

With Minji’s shithole now gaped to an extreme 10-inch diameter, the CEOs proceed to piss inside it, their depravity reaching new heights as they use her body as a vessel for their fluids.

The four CEOs form a circle around her, their bodies towering over her broken form, and begin pissing into her gaping anus, their streams warm and acrid, filling her rectum with urine, the liquid pooling inside her, “Fill her shithole up, boys—let’s drown this slut’s black hole!” one CEO shouts, his voice filled with perverse satisfaction, while another CEO adds, “Her shithole’s a toilet now—what a filthy whore!” The urine overflows, dripping down her thighs and onto the floor, the smell mixing with the fecal odor, Minji’s thoughts a haze of disgust, Minji starts to cry at the pain and humiliations, her body trembling as the CEOs continue their job, they continue pissing more over her.

They take turns, ensuring a continuous flow, most aiming so that their piss goes directly into her anus while others piss on her face and mouth, focing her to drink it and lastly on stomach and chest. The urine liquid soaking her completely, the CEOs mocking her, “You’re a piss bucket now, Minji—our little shithole slut!”

The gangbang continues for hours, the CEOs relentless in their fucking, their fat bodies pressing against Minji’s frail frame as they take turns in every position imaginable, their sexual acts intertwining in a nightmarish cycle.

They continue pissing more over her face and mouth. Minji has no choice rather to drink and swallow them all, trying to resist will lead her to getting beaten.

They force more deepthroats, two CEOs at a time, their penises choking her until she vomits again, the bile mixing with the piss and sweat on her face, the mess smeared across her body as they troll her, “Look at this bitch, puking again—she can’t handle us!” one CEO laughs, while another adds, “Swallow it, you disgusting whore—puke and piss, that’s all you’re worth!” They beat her between rounds, one CEO punching her face, stomach, leaving dark bruises, while another whips her with the belt, the lashes now targeting her arms and back, each strike drawing a weak cry from her lips, her strength nearly gone, her thoughts a desperate plea for the ordeal to end.

~~~

By the end, Minji is a broken figure, her body covered in welts, bruises, vomit, piss, and feces, her shithole gaping like a black hole, her vagina sore from the triple penetrations, her throat raw from the deepthroats, her spirit shattered as the CEOs leave her on the floor, their voices echoing as they walk away, “We’ll be back for more, this time we are gonna bring Hanni you filthy whore friend—the Agency and we own you now.” Minji lies there, her thoughts a faint whisper of defiance—she hopes Hanni will able to escape them but next it seems she's gonna meet with Hanni with the same fate.

[umikawa]

a/n: omg ANOTHER senku fic?? Sedate me. I went off topic in this fic and didn’t even try to redeem myself so 🙏 writing Stanley next, wish me luck

senku ishigami x gn!reader | no warnings, set at the end of the village origins arc. 970 wc. Lot of dialogue cause that’s just how I roll (｀_´)ゞ

Senku was tired. 

Thoughts raced in his mind at a mile a minute, never-ending and constantly sprouting. On paper, he was sure it’d mimic the nervous system. Each thought that crossed his mind bothered him to no bounds, leading him to sleepless nights where he would devise plans for any situation that could happen. 

Like how to handle animal attacks like the one with Taiju in the beginning. What to do if there were (somehow) a fish shortage. What the plan was if an unknown settlement comes suddenly to raid the village. What to do if the Tsukasa empire decides to take action first…

For once (more than he’d admit), thinking made his head hurt. A groan leaves his lips as he holds his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in an attempt to soothe himself. 

“Another late night?” 

He turns around slowly, watching with parted lips as you approach him, a tray with two steaming cups in your hands. “Yeah.” Is all that he can come up with, mouth running dry. He can’t remember the last time he stopped to have a drink.

“You know, for someone as knowledgeable as you, I’d hoped you know that sleeping can be very beneficial to your health.” Senku chuckles at your words, gratefully taking the cup of tea from your hands. “What’s got you so worked up?” 

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a long sip to mask his uncertainty. “I'm just thinking about how this whole thing will play out.” It’s not a lie; he is worried about how everything will go, but it isn’t what he hoped to say. Though, he isn’t too sure what he wanted to say in the first place. 

You hum, leaning against the edge of his workbench. Your eyes trail over the mess of scribbles on the papers in front of him to the notable bags under his eyes. “Have faith,” Senku nearly rolls his eyes. “Believe in your comrades, and everything will fall into place.” 

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the feeling of your hand holding onto his chin, blinking up at you with wide eyes as you tilt his chin. “You should rest, Senku. A general can’t lead an army with only a wink of sleep.”

He laughs to himself, shutting his eyes as he pulls away from your warm touch. “I know.” Is all he responds with. He knows you're right, but he goes back to the drawing board anyway, ignoring the irregular beating in his chest. “You can go.” 

His tone held no malice or annoyance at the blatant dismissal, his words gentle as he cast a glance your way. You’d walked away from the table, standing behind him now, likely to aid him in his next endeavor. 

Once again, Senku jolts at the feeling of your touch. Your arms wrap around his waist from behind, your head pressed in the space between his shoulder blades, and your fingers clutch the fabric of his tunic. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks. Voice strained to keep himself from shouting or worse– trembling.

“Come to bed, Senku.” You’d whispered, pulling on his tunic gently. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as the slightest bit of annoyance builds up. 

Not with you, with himself for ignoring his health to the point you were concerned. 

“Alright.” He sighs, turning around in your hold. You weaken your grip the slightest. Senku wonders if you thought he’d run away if otherwise. “Don’t worry, I won’t run.” 

“You’d better not, " you mumble, releasing him fully. Your hand slips into his, fingers intertwining in place. He felt like they were meant to fit together. Senku quirks a brow. “Just in case. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to get very far with your… stamina.”

He rolls his eyes, allowing you to lead him out of the lab. Twigs and dirt crunch under your steps as you approach his hut. His eyes trailed around the village, and a part of him was praying that no one was awake to see you and him together. 

Not that anything was wrong with that– it’d just be another annoyance he’d have to deal with. 

Senku blinks down at your intertwined hands. When was the last time he held hands with someone? Did he ever? A flash of Byakuya crosses his mind, and a smidge of sadness crosses his face at the thought–right, when they went to see fireworks. 

He figures the look was still etched on his face when you entered his hut. Your hand comes to his face, thumb brushing over his knitted brows. He ignores the touch, his eyes lifting to meet yours. 

Instead of asking him what was wrong, as he thought you would, you wordlessly pulled him into you, fingers carding into his hair and ruffling it around. He groans out a noise of protest, frowning at the wide smile on your face.

“There’s something wrong with you,” he says, rolling his eyes when you pinch his cheeks. “Ten billion percent.” You don’t say a word in response, only messing his hair up even more until it falls in front of his eyes. “You’re weird.”

You scoff at the insult, pinching his chin. “Yeah? And what are you, normal?” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the craziest guy in this village, Senku. I assure you.” He chuckles at your words, and only then does he realize what you’ve done for him. 

Tore him away from his work, successfully relieving him of his stress and calming his mind. 

Except his mind wasn’t calm, and a million thoughts swarmed his head the second he locked eyes with you again. Did you always make his heart race when you looked at him?

And when did you get so… pretty?

[kira-dofc]

Mafia boss! Sukuna x Male reader

Notes- This was supposed to be a Gojo fic but Sukuna fitted this shit better its too dark for Gojo :(

Wc- 3055

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW, unprotected sex, dub-con, breeding, omegaverse, top/bottom, sub/dom, bottom male reader, overstimulation

Flashes of orange and yellow flames streaked past you, casting a fierce glow that punctuated the night with a hellish light. The deafening crack of gunshots shattered the eerie silence, bullets whizzing through the air like deadly fireflies. It was 10:00 p.m., and the city that never slept was now cloaked in an ominous stillness, save for the chaos erupting around you. Frantically, you ran, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, fleeing from the world's most notorious mafia. For years, they had hunted down omegas with unrelenting ferocity, and tonight, you had become their latest target. As the last of your kind, you had been hiding from them for a long time. Unluckily, tonight marked the end of your concealment. You were unique, hailing from a wealthy lineage.

Your family had perished before your eyes, leaving you to carry on the bloodline. It was them. It had always been them. They murdered your family, your only family. And you had been too naive to do anything but hide, bearing all the responsibilities alone. But that was six years ago. Now, you needed to devise a way to throw them off your trail.

Bloodstains smeared almost your entire body. Your legs were limp, and one of your bones was broken. You fled toward the heart of the city, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sprinted away from the terrifying sounds of pursuit. The once-bustling metropolis had turned into a ghost town, its inhabitants cowering indoors, unwilling to risk becoming the mafia's next victim. The streets were deserted, the silence broken only by your ragged breathing and the distant echoes of violence.

Each step felt like an eternity as adrenaline surged through your veins. You could almost sense their presence behind you, a shadow of death closing in. It seemed they were tracking you by your scent. The sweet, floral fragrance that emanated from your body had made this escape even more challenging. Your sweet blood flowed through your veins, each drop hitting the ground and leaving a trail. You pressed your hands against your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding and prevent them from following your scent. Your mind raced, replaying the events that led to this desperate escape. It had begun with whispers, rumors of the mafia targeting omegas, and then the brutal reality struck as friends and acquaintances began to disappear, leaving only bloodstains and unanswered questions. Their actions were inexplicable: Why would they target people like you? You had witnessed countless deaths at their hands, many shot, others thrown into pits of fire. They burned all the bodies of their victims.

The neon lights of the city, once symbols of vibrancy and life, now cast eerie, elongated shadows that seemed to grasp at you. You rounded a corner, your feet slipping on the rain-slicked pavement. The distant wail of sirens was a cruel reminder that help would not come in time. You had to rely on your instincts and sheer will to survive.

Suddenly, a narrow alleyway caught your eye. Without thinking, you darted into it, hoping to lose your pursuers in the labyrinth of backstreets. But as you ran deeper, the walls seemed to close in, and the alley twisted into a nightmarish maze. The sound of footsteps grew louder, echoing off the brick walls, a relentless reminder that they were drawing closer.

Your frantic flight led you to a dead end, a towering brick wall blocking your path. Panic surged through you as you desperately tried to find a way over it, your fingers scrabbling at the rough surface. The wall loomed high above you, an insurmountable barrier that seemed to mock your desperation. You could hear their voices now, low and menacing, carried on the wind.

You turned to face them, your breath coming in short, terrified gasps. Shadows danced at the entrance of the alley, and then they emerged, dark silhouettes against the dim light. There was no escape. Your eyes darted around, seeking any possible way out, but there was none. The realization hit you like a tidal wave – you were trapped.

One of the men stepped forward, his face obscured by shadows, but the cold glint in his eyes was unmistakable. He raised his weapon, and in that split second, time seemed to slow. You braced yourself for the impact, expecting the searing pain of a bullet. Instead, there was a sharp sting, more like a needle prick than a gunshot.

Confusion mingled with the adrenaline, and a wave of dizziness washed over you. Your vision blurred, and your legs wobbled beneath you. You staggered, trying to stay upright, but your strength was failing. The world around you began to spin, the alleyway becoming a distorted swirl of colors and shadows.

With a final, desperate effort, you reached out to the wall, hoping to steady yourself, but it was too late. Your fingers brushed against the cold bricks before your legs gave way completely. You collapsed to the ground, the impact jarring but distant, as if it were happening to someone else. The cold, unforgiving pavement pressed against your cheek, and darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was the triumphant, merciless faces of your captors as they closed in around you. Their voices were muffled, distorted by the haze of unconsciousness, but the satisfaction in their tones was unmistakable. As the world faded away, one thought lingered in your mind – this was only the beginning of a nightmare that had no end in sight.

As the cold seeped into your bones, memories of happier times flickered in your mind like a fading film reel. You remembered your family's laughter, the warmth of your mother's embrace, and the security you felt in your father's presence. Those moments seemed like a lifetime ago, swallowed by the darkness of the present. The mafia had taken everything from you, and now they were about to take your freedom, perhaps even your life.

The darkness enveloped you completely, a void that swallowed all light and sound. Time lost its meaning as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your mind a whirlpool of fear and despair. When you finally awoke, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, the air thick with the smell of damp and decay. Your hands were bound, the rough ropes cutting into your wrists, and your body ached from the rough handling and the injuries sustained during your escape.

-

A single, flickering light bulb cast eerie shadows on the walls, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the background. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something metallic—probably blood. You struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain that shot through your limbs with every small movement. Your captors had taken no chances, securing you tightly to a chair with heavy, rusted chains. The room was bare, save for a small table covered in ominous stains and a single door, which you guessed led to more horrors beyond.

The door creaked open, its sound amplified in the silence, and a figure stepped inside. It was the man who had shot you, his cold eyes glinting with cruel amusement. He approached slowly, savoring your fear, and knelt down to meet your gaze. His smile was a twisted parody of kindness, and his voice was soft, almost gentle, as he spoke.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, his tone mocking. "You gave us quite the chase, but it seems the game is over now."

You glared at him, refusing to let him see the terror that gripped your heart. "What do you want from me?" you demanded, your voice hoarse from disuse and dry from lack of water.

The man chuckled, a low, chilling sound that echoed in the small room. "Oh, it's not me who wants something from you," he replied. He turned his head slightly towards the door, and with a simple, "Boss," he summoned another figure into the room.

A tall, hooded figure stepped in front of you. His eyes were as red as fire, and his hair was a lush cascade of pink, shimmering even in the dim light. His eyes furrowed as he looked down upon you, scrutinizing your scarred figure. His face etched into a grin that sent shivers down your spine. This was Sukuna, the infamous leader of the most feared mafia syndicate in the world.

Sukuna bowed down to your height, his intense gaze never leaving yours. He tilted his head slightly, scanning you as if you were a specimen in a lab. "Let me clear things up for you," he chuckled as he stood back up. "It's not about what we want. It's about what we need. You see, you are the last of your kind, and that makes you very valuable to us. And very valuable to me. Your blood, your lineage, your body."

You squinted your eyes, trying to understand what he was saying. It was hard to focus through the haze of pain and fear, but his words were starting to piece together a horrifying picture. They didn't just want to torture you; they wanted to exploit you, to use you for some nefarious purpose. The thought filled you with a renewed sense of defiance, and you vowed to fight them with every ounce of strength you had left.

Sukuna's voice dropped to a soft, almost affectionate tone. "I want you to be my mate," he said, his words causing a cold shiver to run down your spine. "Consider it a sacrifice; you'll be saving your race, your population. You can save them."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You struggled against your restraints, your mind racing. "Then why did you kill all of them?" you spat out, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow. "Why? Why do it if you just wanted someone? You could have just taken one and left the rest of us be."

Sukuna's grin widened, and there was a maddening glint in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" you demanded, your voice breaking.

He leaned in close, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. "Oh, I only did this so I could finally get you," he said with a chilling calmness. "I wanted you, and you only. You managed to get away when we slaughtered your whole family. I only did this so I could be with you, my prince."

His words were a twisted declaration, and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. He chuckled as he whispered those words close to your ears, his breath hot and foul. He grazed his hand along your chin, lifting it to force you to look into his eyes.

"Clean him up, then bring him to my room," he ordered the man who had shot you. "I want him clean when I see him again." With a final smirk, Sukuna turned away from you and walked out of the room, leaving you with the chilling promise of what was to come.

The man who had shot you moved to obey Sukuna's orders. He released the chains that held you to the chair, though he left your hands bound behind your back. You were too weak to resist, too weak to do anything but stumble as he dragged you out of the room and down a long, dimly lit corridor.

The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, each step echoing off the cold, stone walls. The faint sound of dripping water followed you, a constant reminder of the dank, underground prison you found yourself in. You were led into another room, this one slightly less decrepit than the last. It had a small basin of water, a towel, and a change of clothes laid out on a table.

The man pushed you towards the basin. "Clean yourself up," he said gruffly. You stared at the water, the reflection of your battered face staring back at you. Every movement was painful, but you forced yourself to comply, knowing that any defiance now would only result in more pain.

You washed as best as you could with your hands still bound, the cold water stinging your wounds. When you were done, the man handed you the change of clothes—a simple, clean shirt and pants. He watched you closely as you struggled to dress yourself, his eyes never leaving you.

Once you were dressed, he grabbed your arm and led you out of the room again. You were taken to yet another corridor, this one even darker and more foreboding than the last. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the occasional distant echo of voices.

Finally, you were brought to a large, imposing door. The man knocked once, then pushed it open, revealing a lavishly decorated room. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and expensive-looking furniture filled the space. It was a stark contrast to the squalor of the rest of the compound.

Sukuna was waiting for you inside, seated in an ornate chair. He looked up as you entered, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Ah, there you are," he said, his voice dripping with mock warmth. "You look much better now."

You stood there, your body tense and your mind racing. What was he planning? What did he want from you? The uncertainty was almost worse than the pain. Sukuna rose from his chair and approached you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Come, sit with me," he said, gesturing to a chair opposite his. "We have much to discuss."

You hesitated, but the man behind you gave you a sharp shove, forcing you to comply. You sat down, your hands still bound, and glared at Sukuna. "What do you want from me?" you repeated, your voice filled with defiance.

Sukuna's smile widened. "I told you, didn't I? I want you to be my mate. Together, we can rebuild your race, your people. You are the key to everything."

His words were like a knife to your heart. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Why would I ever agree to that?" you demanded.

"Because you have no choice," Sukuna said simply. "Either you cooperate, or you watch as I destroy everything you hold dear. The choice is yours."

His words hung in the air, a chilling ultimatum that left you feeling more trapped than ever. You knew you had to find a way out, to escape this nightmare. But for now, all you could do was sit and listen, and wait for the right moment to strike.

-

"Leave," He ordered, "I want some privacy." The men in front of the door nodded and leaved in order. 

Sukuna walked around the table, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. "I can see the defiance in your eyes," he murmured. "It's...exciting."

You turned your head away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But Sukuna grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His grip was strong, almost painfully so. "Don't look away from me," he said softly. 

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss rough and demanding. You tried to pull away, but his hand on your chin held you in place. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt—he was in control.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling inside you. Sukuna's eyes glittered with satisfaction. "See? That wasn't so hard," he said, his voice mocking.

He reached down and began to unbutton your shirt, his fingers moving with a practiced ease. You tensed, every muscle in your body screaming at you to fight, to resist. But the man behind you had a firm grip on your shoulders, holding you in place.

Sukuna's hands roamed over your chest, his touch both gentle and possessive. "You're beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. "So perfect."

You shuddered, a mixture of fear and unwanted arousal coursing through you. Sukuna's hands moved lower, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs. He knelt in front of you, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you," he said softly, his breath hot against your skin.

A sudden tug was felt on your shirt, Sukuna lifted you up. Everything went by so fast, your were now on his bed. Your shirt and your pants was tossed to the ends of the bed leaving you bare with your underwear wet as your cock begging to spring out. Your face was flushed between your hands as Sukuna chuckled "You're too cute to handle, boy" He soon unbuttoned his polo, leaving his body bare for you to see. 

His body was toned, veins aching from every muscle. His jawline defined, his hands were scarred, veins and bones revealing themselves under the skin of his hands. He moved down to you as he whispered to your ears, "You're mine." 

Sukuna groaned as he held your hips with harsh and fast thrusts. Every thrust he makes make you squeal and let out moans. Your body now aching with love bites and hickeys as you left scratches on Sukuna's back. His fast thrusts soon slowed as he leaned on you, "Take all of my pups for me, yeah?" He groaned as he came, knotting your insides as you came on his stomach. Your moans shifted into breathless sighs.

One round turned into 20. Its been 1 hour and a half before his dick throbbed your insides. His shape now taking form of your hole, "Ugh...! N-no Ah..., more....." You moaned as you whispered in his ears. "You don't get to order me," He groaned as he whispered back to you, "Just one more darling. Raise all my pups inside you..." He leaned closer to your face as he planted a kiss on your forehead as he thrusts in and out of you. You hugged him tightly as you felt your climax. One final thrust, his cock spurted out his pups in you for the twentieth time. 

You breathed heavily, as your rested your head on the mattress. His hands trailed to your neck to your jaw, moving your head to face him. "I'm not done with you," He says as he kissed you on your neck, through your chin and on your lips. He groaned as he laid next to you. Your head facing his chest as his hands covered your waist. 

[sleepy-fiction]

Fists In The Backline.

iron fist x fem!reader SMUT

Lin Lie fucking the shit out of the enemy healer. "You're not going back to the mission area. Ever."

tgs: exhibitionism, voyeurism, watersports, minor breeding kink, ironfist physically overpowers reader, dubcon, wrestling, bdsm, unbalanced power dynamics, prey/hunter, compassionate hard dom lin, fem reader, bunny nickname, no romance pure fucking but a lot of sweetness from them

an: i loved writing this, I'm even considering a pt 2 w them as undercover fckbuddies. Also, time works diff here than playing a marvels match. BARELY proofread

4.9K WORDS

"Fuuhh fuh-Uck! Lin... Lin, we gotta goo back," you can't even manage a full sentence underneath the barrage of thrusts. Lin Lie has you bent over a broken pillar in the Royal Palace, his thick cock berating your hole as you grunt and dig your nails into the ridges.

You were 20 meters away from the mission area, your radar pinging your teammates' dangerously low health. With the leader board showing 68% to 43% of mission area captured, the latter being your team's.

It was quick how Iron Fist noticed how your heals carried your team hard. You were all in the lead for the first half of the battle, dogging them with an amazing 30% to 1%, and for hellish minutes, not a single member of his team could land a step on the mission area.

That was until he devised his plan, rounding up all his team to attack you, and you only with him hounding them to trust him. It was an even bloodier battle, but he eventually got you, but he got crushed by your team's Panther right as he did so.

This wasn't the last you'd see him. As right as you spawned, you saw the terrifying sight of an enemy IronFist, standing directly in the backlines, ogling you in spawn. At first, you were prepared for another battle, but a passionate zeal fell upon IronFist, his powers spilling out a green mist, and he incapacitated you within seconds.

His strong punch flung you into the cracked pillar behind you, the grand marble caving in under your weight. You spat out, "Augh," as gravity carried you to the floor, your ribcage and arm slung over the broken piece.

Dammit.

He was going to kill you and send you back to spawn after you tried your best escape.

You heard the familiar crunch of heavy shoes on shattered marble, and in a last ditch effort, you threw out your final weak attack. It did nothing. In fact, Iron Fist simply side stepped it. Wild feral anger crossed your eyes as you flipped to face him, legs too weak to stand.

You growled with a boom, "You back-lining asshole! You think this is a fair fucking fight? Huh? Think this is righteous?" You stated up at him, as his large muscular body casted a shadow over you.

He was tall and intimidating, his broad shoulders steered the sun away, and his proud biceps flexed in his crossed arms. The way his mask hugged at his eyes mysteriously, the way he stood strong with confidence- wisdom; something you haven't quite cracked yet. You were a new hero on the scene. You weren't accepted by all yet.

You had too much to prove and too much to lose in this fight. Not him, though. He was one of the many glorious Iron Fists. If it were any other circumstance, you would have given up, talked nice, and at least admire such an inspiring hero. But not here, not now.

Not when he was playing so fucking dirty, and ripping your precious moment from your claws.

Your eyes gleamed with spite.

Skkrt!

Your radio buzzed. Starlord's voice interrupted your stare down, "Where the hell are you, kid? We need those heals now!"

Your heart sunk to your core.

You shouted, "Well?" Grabbing up chunks of broken marble rocks and throwing it meekly at Iron Fist. They seemed to ricochet off his stature, but finally, finally, he moved.

Iron Fist sunk down a bit, grabbed your shoulder and kept you in place on the ground. "Hey, what the fuck," you spat. You thrashed around, but he sunk on one knee between your legs and raised his other mighty hand on your shoulder, clamping you down in place. You cried, but his face shot close to you.

You gasped in the closeness, you could see the beads of sweat that plagued his face and neck, how his shiney spikey hair absorbed the sunlight and reflected dark colors of husky brown. How his strong jawline complimented the structure of his masked eyes. How the tip of his nose was just as pink as his plump lips. You gulped.

He finally spoke.

"You're not going to back Mission Area. Ever," he hushed. The command sent shivers down you.

"W-Why not," you still growled at him.

"You're too good. You're the only thing keeping your uncoordinated team alive. The only one reminding those guys to stay on checkpoint. And I wanna win... So," he grins, it's devilish the way it makes you stir in fear. He's so confident, so precise, it steals your breath from under you.

An established hero recognized you.

Sskt-- "I need backup dammit! Where are my god damn heals," Winter Soldier booms.

"Hey hey! Take your time! Or don't. But listen could'ya uh... At least make it quick! No worries though," Spiderman buzzes in.

You glanced down at your Radar, the enemy team has completely caught up. They managed to tie in the 12 minutes you've been away from the battlefield.

You whimper, "Fuuck- Oh no." Despair strikes your face, but it's drowned out by the humored laugh Lin Lie releases.

You whip at him, "You can't keep me here forever! I'll notify Black Panther on my Rad--"

Within seconds, your radar is snatched, "Hey--", and crushed in-between thick hands. Your coms buzzes before blinking off. Lin, all the while, is smiling dangerously hard.

"Hehe! No can do!"

You launch forward in a rage, "You stupid fucking asshole," grabbing chunks of his uniform and sending him to the floor. You straddle his body, desperately trying to rip and claw at his face. His laugh turns into chuckles as he blocks you, eventually grabbing your wrists, stuffing a leg under your chest, and flipping you over him and onto the floor.

You crash land on your back hard, but before you could even gather out a groan, he's onto of you. Ironfist drops his weight on your hips, catching your arms above your head in a quick biff.

"You've got such fire! Such passion--"

"Die! Die, you backlining freak!"

"--You're truly one of a kind. You'll be a great hero when you're ready. No. You already are," he smiled too fondly.

You gasped, your chest heaving as your anger suddenly dies down.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can make this hard," He leans down, his free hand against the floor beside your head. He took up all your view. Despite it all, your eyes flickered from his lips to his masked face.

You whimpered. Awe as terror mixing a dangerous concoction on your face.

This was too intimate.

Even Lin hesitated, simply staring at your face.

There was no doubt in his mind that the newest hero on the scene was gorgeous. Especially to him. You were a true strategist with an empathic heart and a pretty face. Cute eyes with tulips for lips. You trained hard, deep into the early morning when he began his training, and he always caught you staying longer than you should just to admire the way he fought.

Most heros become recognized and lose their precision. Not you, you were sharpening the arrowhead until the oil burned.

He admired you so damn much he even switched his usual spot in the after-match lunch room just so he could have a clear view of you over through Rocket's short head. Even the way you ate was cute. You were always so starry-eyed and excited when conversing with your mates, Storm and Squirrel Girl.

He'd be a liar to say he wasn't taking advantage of it all right now.

"Pretty thing," he mutters. It's loud enough for you to hear. It's sadistic, the way he chuckles a little before continuing, "Got no where to run." He wants to see those glossy eyes brim with anger, just one more time.

Where's your zealous spirit?

You can feel your face warm. You know you shouldn't, but somewhere you got lost in his presence, lost gazing between that mysterious mask and those deliciously soft lips. Those plump, full lips of his. Just as pink as the tip of his nose. You whimper ever too submissively, "What're you 'gonna do to me..." You can't even mask your desire, your tone pleading and desperate. The sort of pleading, desperate tone that drowns in sensuality, as your voice is reduced to a breathy, stammery mess.

He disrespected you but...

You didn't get angry. Hell, that's far from anger.

You're panting a little too heavy, you're staring dead at his lips, you're drowning in his presence, melting like butter, yet as alert as a rabbit in the snares of a fox.

He's losing his fucking mind.

You are totally into him. You like him.

He's overwhelmed by the sheer intensity, the shockwave of seduction that blows in from those rabbit breaths.

He should do the right thing.

But god, he wants to take advantage of this.

What other time would he ever get you this turned on, and be in position to be the lucky one who gets to please you?

But should he do it here? Out in the open, where prying eyes could disrespect you? Holding you hostage, overpowering you physically?

Why did all these factors make it impossibly hotter?

Was it worth risking it all for a once-in-a-lifetime erotic escapade?

And with those sweet eyes shifting from pupil to pupil, you really did look like a tied up rabbit.

Fuck it.

Let's fuck like rabbits.

He raises back, his hand testing the waters, releasing your wrists, and clamping a strong hand on your neck. You call out and whimper, yet never look away, eagerly awaiting, your heart drumming in your chest. His grip is tight but not suffocating. His hands are so damn large, and your neck almost feels like nothing to him. And fuck you're so turned on. You shut your eyes, limp your head back, and ease tense shoulders, flashing him the underside of your chin.

He feels himself harden in his pants, his eyes widening in disbelief and jaw falling slack.

You moaned so sexily and fell limply in his arms like a fainting princess.

Yeah no.

That's one gigantic green light. He pulled you off the ground by your neck, raising your body up to meet his, you gasp out, meekly throwing your hands on his forearms, your grip almost nonexistent.

"I'm going to realign your guts," he smiles wistfully, a hearty and amused laugh leaving him.

There you found yourself, your pants bunched around your knees, your elbows on the broken pillar, and your drippingly wet ass perked up in doggy. The rest of your clothes are disheveled and barely put on right, as Lin's egerously largest hands were, just minutes prior, groping you everywhere on your soft body. It didn't take long for either of you to get deathly aroused. In fact, half the foreplay was skipped, per your request, just so you could feel him.

"Hurry-hurry-hurry," you ramble out, shaking your ass with a delicious whine. He catches it immediately with his bandaged hand, his fingers itching with the addiction of feeling your skin. "I can't take it anymore Iron Fist," you say.

He winces hard. You're so shameless, so bold. It's driving him insane. He shakes, desperate to keep control of himself, as he slowly slides his giant cockhead against your lips. You moan, arching viciously. His thickness peck and slip through your folds, collecting your slick before finally dipping in.

His head is fat, his whole cock itself was 8 inches long. Bulky and burly over skinny. It's fatter towards the center, perfectly straight and just as pink as his lips. Your hole chokes up on his head alone, stretching to meet his plump demands.

Bzztk-- "Iron Fist. Keep it up! Whatever it is, it's working," Hela's voice breaks through the slience. You moan at the lewdity of it all, your toes curling.

Bzzt-- IronFist holds his radar, buzzing it on, "Mmf- Thanks! The fight hasn't been easy! We've been battling it out nonestop," he suddenly plunges in, his cock now halfway in.

You abruptly groan out, "G-Gaa--"

"--Oh no! You're not getting away! Get over here," but he covers it up smoothly.

Bzzt-- "Good work, Lin. Keep it up," Cloak's voice slithers out.

Lin snickers, "You know I will," and the radio shuts off.

You finally moan out all that you couldn't before. "It's soo b-big Iron Fist," you mewl, dropping your chin to rest against the pillar.

"M'hehe," he pushes in more, "Just call me Lin, okay?" His voice is gentle and sweet, both of his strong hands securely gripping your hips. You can feel his blazing warmth not only from his piping dick but from his palms. Combined, it all brings aroused tingles to your brain. "It's Lin Lie, hero."

"My name is--" He slams into you, bottoming out.

You groan out, but he shuts you up quick by leaning forward, reaching, and stuffing your mouth with two of his fingers. His hand cups the side of your face, his thumb resting by the corner of your eye. "Hey, you're still new okay? You gotta protect your identity. Don't give it up for sex," he scolds.

"You'thh thdid itt," you manage out.

"Yeah, well, I've been doing this for a while," he says. He rubs circles with his palm on your juicy ass, admiring every part of how his cock feels in your velvety walls. How you pulse around him and invite him in so nicely. He's thrusting slow into you by now, only taking himself out an inch before sinking back in. He looks from your ass to your face as he does so. "Is that good," he asks, eyes lidding behind the mask.

He sighs out deeply the way a man would after cigarettes when he's finally able to start doing some sort of moving. His grip tight, his restraint dwindling. It's not his fault your tight walls suck him back as he pulls out, not his fault your cervix likes to kiss his tip so nicely. Fuck, all he wants to do now is fuck you like a dog and play with your clit while doing it. All he wants is to make you lose yourself again and get the pleasure you were begging for.

You cry, "Mmyes, morr' Lin. I canh'take morr' than this." Your voice vibrates around his fingers. His hands have you leaned up, your fingertips being the only thing keeping you connected with the pillar. And you find how befitting the blue sky is with an ass full of cock.

"Ffu-- Good," he moans. Lin starts to let loose, starting paced. His dick bangs into your stomach, the fulling sensation of him smothering your hot insides, releasing sloppy, loud squelches into the air.

Your senses are immediately overidden, as you bite down onto his fingers, and move back against his cock. "Ooh'ff! Ooh," you moan blissfully. His lips clench in concentration, as you feel him dig and dig, until finally- your hand slams against the pillar with a loud, "Ff-Yeessh'!"

He laughs sweetly, "Oooh yeah? That's your sweet-spot? Huh, beauty?" He groans breathlessly, precusely digging and fucking his tip into that spot.

His large dick is fucking against your bladder, your toes squeeze ice tight, your moans echoing across the palace walls. Your eyes roll back into your head, your back drowing in sweat already, annoyed by your superclothing that restrain you. "Gotth'a pee," you mutter against his fingers, his thick digits familiarizing itself with your drool.

"Go'n'head 'n release. Ffuck... nobody's gonna see you anymore today," he groans. Your walls spasmed in fear and anticipation at his devilish sugarcoated words. Lin's hand finally slips from your mouth, and you fall back onto your elbows. His other hand, join him in holding your hips. He lifts your hips up more, your knees now hovering an inch off the ground. Your weight meant absolutely nothing to him.

"Keep an eye on the score, would you," he says as he tosses his radar infront of you. You sloppily turn it over, shock filling your soul.

You first cry out in despair, "Fuck it's at sixty-sev-- Oooh! Yess," but the sound quickly morphs into pure bliss. Your head drops down dumbly as Lin's pace turns into madness. No longer did the sweet, consideriate, paced thrusts exist, as now he fucked you expeditiously. His stout cock was rapid and precise, its unrelenting speed just as inescapable as his zealous fists.

Your hand reach out into the air around you, gripping at absolutely nothing to anchor you to this world and not the galaxy of stars behind your eyelids. His grunts and groans got louder, the stuttering sounds ever so deep and blissful. He fucked you so hard you could feel your elbows slip forward on the pillar, until you were no longer holding onto it, but your stomach rested on it, and your hands planted into the dirt.

Your toes curled, as your greedy pussy clenched down on him. The sloppy wet sounds combined with the intense clapping of skin to skin competed against your wailing cries. Your bladder gave out within seconds of it all, squinting hard as your bladder was pressed by both sides. On the inside, it was battered by Lin's passionate head, but on the outside, it was smothered by the broken pillar. Your legs twitched and jerked, hands deep in the dirt.

You cried, "L-Lin! Oooh fuck! Mmff' let's go baack." The only thing else to look at was the scoreboard, watching helplessly as the enemy team reached a terrifying 78 percent, ten more gained in the three minutes from last time you checked. They were kicking your team's ass, hard.

"Nno can do bunny-- Haa... I've 'gotta- wwin-uh," he moans out. He suddenly stops, forcedly adjusting himself, as he lays a foot down on the pillar, his body leaning down towards you, as he forces your face into the dirt; large hand pressing the back of your head down. In this new position, your knees slipped up to catch yourself, now finding themselves on the pillar, your pants now barely held on by your feet, and Lin stood in the calamity, a perfectly smooth transition, as his left hand stayed put on your hips.

He asks, "You 'kay?" But barely waits as he instantly begins to pound you into the dirt. By now, all of his thrusts are sloppy, his grunts loud into the air, curses flying off his lips like a mantra, "Ffuck-fuck-fuck-- mm."

He's gonna cum, he's gonna cum!

He's still going full steam ahead inside of you. You were overstimulated beyond compare, your poor sweet clit was swollen and enlarged, pulsating hard for friction. The slightest touch of it would send you flying to heaven and back. No way we're you gonna be left high and wet without a mind-fucking orgasm.

"Mmm- My Clit," you screeched like a parrot, your moans filled with more light headed gasps than sounds.

Lin released your head, leaning all the way up, and using his hand how to reach between you and spin your clit. The muscle was pre-drenched in the downpour of your lust. And in your wake, "I'm cumming!--", you ripped chunks from the earth, squirting out one final time.

"Aaa-haah, me too," Lin could barely laugh, as he was overtaken by mindless groans as he slammed rough into you for the final time, shooting his first ribbon deep inside you. He pulled out, shooting his second, before roughly slamming balls-deep in for the third. His moans were feral and mindless, only caring about dumping his hot load into your cervix.

Shit. That totally wasn't good but you'd take care of--

Bbzzt-- "Another Amazing Victory!"

Your eyes popped open to the radar.

The scoreboard: 100% to 49%

Your knees slipped back onto the dirt as he pulled out, your stomach back resting on the pillar as you stared at the results with angered eyes.

"See, what'd I tell ya, bunny," his cock rudely finds its way back inside, he continues, "You carried your team." He leans down on you, his chest on your back as he hooks an arm under yours. It slots between your breasts and grabs your neck, pulling you completely off the ground as he stands up with you, his hard dick still inside. Your legs twitch, and a sultry mewl leaves you, your piss drenched pants slipping to the ground.

You can hear Lin groan deep into your ear, "Sorry, bunny, just one more round. I promise it'll be just one more... I need this, please. Trust me," and it sends delicious tingles down your spine.

It's only then, from this sight of him holding you, that you can see your surroundings and really focus in on the fact that you were on royal grounds, fucking where any unlucky bastard could see.

And oddly, your eyes kept glancing to a crow perched up on a pillar in the distance.

Fuck.

Eeh.

Well.

"Okaayy," you mewl braindead-ly. "Mmh, make it rough Lin pleasee," you whine, clenching tight around him in anticipation.

"Your wish is my command, bunny," he whispers fiendishly so.

read part 2?

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

���Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[thoughtsfromb4]

The Tenacity Of Hope

Now, in this land, in times beyond our forefathers,

Beyond those who were first and merely squatters– 

Those who crossed the Delaware’s frozen waters, 

Those brought and sold as economic fodder, 

Those who charged ashore into lead breakwaters–

These people were real, not the myths some now proffer. 

So in this day is it our intent to say 

(As, from our ideals, we’ve now run astray) 

That the reality of their truth has today

Such little value it can be cast away?

Of course, times have changed, and yet so have we,

So perhaps what we need is a reverie, 

A vision of a future that can still be seen,

Free from the authoritarian political machine,

A vision for you and me–for all to see– 

The path from here to where we should be,

One that can clarify and bring into view 

All the types of things we all must do.

So, what should be our new vision's theme? 

"Liberty or Death" or “I have a dream”? 

Or something newer, a rallying call

Like the one we heard one glorious fall 

When, out of nowhere, came a politician;

and I tell you what, he was on a mission,

Because this guy had devised a simple plan 

The “Audacity of Hope” plus “Yes We Can.” 

He made us see that what we face 

Is not beyond our knowledge base,

That we have the strength to carry on 

And to lay down foundations whereupon 

We can build a new future–with all our hands–

And begin to enact all of the types of plans 

That shepherd that future and serve to guide it 

Down a path we can walk with Pride beside it. 

Of course, that was then, and this is now,

So we face the eternal question: how? 

How is it that we can respond to this 

When so many feel things are still so amiss?

When so many people live in a world without facts

While cheering on a demagogue's authoritarian acts? 

When majorities cry victim as they still oppress 

Any who dare to offend the fragile views they possess? 

Sadly, history shows these troubles have been seen before

Whenever bigots and despots blame the tired and poor,

So we must keep up the resistance and fight on once again, 

Just as those before us who worked to move us to Now from Then.

First, we must remember that "Yes We Can" 

Was simply so much more than a single man– 

That rallying call was built on aspiration,

Calling out to us all as if a gauntlet thrown,  

A challenge sent out to the entire nation 

To earn the ideals that we claim to own. 

Yes, we can meet this challenge, but to do so, we must rise

Up to meet the gaze of all those with hate within their eyes-

Just as those before us who stood up to all the tyrants of the past,

Ironclad in their convictions, hope unconstrained by class or caste.

So in this Now we must speak out, vote, and protest; 

We must summon our strength of will and refuse to shrink

From the unending trials of our democratic contest 

With all those who seek to push us to the brink. 

For it is in all of the faces of our can-be-great nation

That we see how it is we will cope, 

Showing all, through the audacity of our demonstrations, 

The true Tenacity Of Our Hope.

--@thoughtsfromb4

[poorlydrawnwarriorzzz]

draw evil doomed mothpool please please please please please

I actually got so excited when I saw this request cause it got me thinking, what would evil MothPool look like? What would motivate them to turn against the clans, and how would would they work together to achieve what they want?

Well, Mothwing is already skeptical of Starclan. She acknowledges to an extent that yes, Starclan does exist, but she also doesn’t think that they should be dictating how the living go about things. She doesn’t believe them to be any wiser than her living peers, and thus, she’s never spoken to a Starclan cat, and had no plans to.

That was, until, she heard of Leafpool’s passing. Leafpool, the cat who’d accepted her unconditionally, who had been her comfort for so many moons, who made her feel normal when other cats cast her out for her beliefs. In spite of herself, she tries to contact Leafpool’s spirit, just to say goodbye, just to thank her for her kindness. And to her surprise, she succeeds - but something’s wrong.

Mothwing had never seen a Starclan cat up close, but she was sure that this wasn’t right. Leafpool looked dull, her eyes were dark. She’d heard her clanmmates describe Starclan cats as glittering, sometimes glowing with the stars in their pelts. This couldn’t be her Leafpool…

Leafpool was quick to notice Mothwing’s confusion, and explained to her that Starclan had not allowed her to join because she’d broken the code. She told her about the trial she and Squirrelflight went through, and how despite Starclan’s guidance, they were found guilty. Squirrelflight had returned to the living, but Leafpool decided that she would accept her fate, and make something of it.

Mothwing felt as though her head was spinning. Starclan was already confusing enough, and now this? Leafpool had been nothing but loyal to them! How could they banish her? Frustration bubbled in her chest. Leafpool wrapped herself around Mothwing. She was cold.

After soothing her for a moment, Leafpool asked if Mothwing would help her. Mothwing hesitated. Did Leafpool want revenge? Leafpool, sensing her unease, assured her that all she wanted to do was “make things right”. She wanted to make sure no other cat would suffer an unjust fate. Mothwing agreed. She trusted Leafpool over Starclan, now more than ever.

Leafpool devised a plan. She would cut off Starclan from the living cats, so that they could never interfere with them again. No more manipulation for their own benefit. She had Mothwing gather deathberries. They were going to kill the MoonPool.

As much as Mothwing wanted justice for Leafpool, a part of her felt that it was wrong. But Leafpool reminded her of Starclan’s cruelties; how Leafpool lost her kits, her place as a medicine cat, her place in Starclan. How Mothwing had been mistreated her whole life for simply having different beliefs. How if it weren’t for Starclan, they could’ve had a life together.

So Mothwing did it. She poisoned the MoonPool. It was no longer blue and glittery with starlight, but muddy and red. It could easily be mistaken for blood. But this was just the beginning…

[writtenfangirl]

Hungry For You

Another TikTok trend has sparked an idea in me.

Another (short) Charles Leclerc Fanfic

Y/N spooned the food carefully on to the two plates, casting the hidden camera a wide grin as she did so. While the plates were similar in size, one had a significantly larger portion. The grilled chicken on one of the plates was practically the size of her palm, the pesto pasta still steaming as she dumped it on the plate. On her own plate, she placed barely a handful of food, the chicken cut into three small strips and the pasta’s serving size so tiny, not even a small cat would feel full.

“Babe, it’s time to eat!” Y/N called out as she shot her phone another wink. She’s placed the devise inside one of the cups of utensils, hidden away from Charles’ keen eyes. The camera had a full view of the kitchen island, where she and Charles frequently ate their meals when they were alone.

She heard his footsteps bounding towards the kitchen, the door to his gaming room slamming shut behind him.

“I am starving and it smells delicious.” He practically beamed at her as he took his place on the kitchen isle, oblivious to the camera that was filming his every move. “I don’t know how you manage to impress me with your cooking every time, cherie.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

“It’s pesto. I already know I’ll love it.”

Pesto pasta was one of his favorite dishes and with the aromatic smells of the basil and garlic hanging in the air, Y/N had no doubts about his statement.

She circled around the isle taking her seat next to Charles, placing the plate with the larger portions in front of him and the smaller sized portion in front of her. But Charles paid the food no heed.

He grinned up at her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for cooking for us, cherie.”

He did this every time she cooked. Thanked her for her efforts and grinned up at her like she hung the moon and starts. And every single time, without fail, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of that smile.

She handed him his utensils, his food finally snagging his attention before his eyes wandered to her plate. He frowned at the sight of it. “Why is your food so little?”

“What do you mean?” She asked innocently as she took the pitcher of water she had set and carefully filling their glass.

“Your food, it is so little.”

“Yeah, this was all we had,” she shrugged. “I forgot to stop by the grocery store this week and this was the last of the chicken and the pasta.” She took her utensils, getting ready to dig in when all of a sudden her plate disappeared. 

“Charles? What are you doing?” Bewildered she watched as her boyfriend dumped the contents of her plate on to his already full one.

“Eat,” he said as he pushed the fully loaded plate in front of her. There was no annoyance in his eyes, no hint of his previous hunger as he looked at her in earnest, waiting for her to dig in.

“Babe, I’m not even really that hungry,” she protested. “Come on, you need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry either,” he shrugged.

Liar. He’d been complaining the whole time she was cooking about how hungry and excited he was to eat. He always got that way after a training session and he’d been training since 9AM. Whatever lunch Charles ate during a training day was usually only enough to get him going and by the time he found his way home, he was always positively starving. And Y/N knew today was no exception.

“Just five minutes ago you said you were starving,” she deadpanned.

“You spent two hours on your feet, cooking. I know how tiring that is. I really am not hungry.”

She rolled her eyes, even as love bloomed at her chest. “You came from training.”

He waved off her concerns. “I promise, I am not hungry. And tomorrow, I will go to the grocery, buy our stuff and cook you a meal.”

It was a true miracle that Y/N didn’t grab her boyfriend right then and there and drag him to the bedroom. How she managed to snag a boyfriend so thoughtful and so selfless was beyond her. “You’re sure you’re not hungry?”

He grinned at her, his voice going deep and husky as his eyes darkened. “I’m hungry for you.” He gave her what he probably thought was sultry wink but that only served to have Y/N howling in laughter.

There was no denying how in love she was with her boyfriend but she had always been immune to his attempts at flirting. His charms would no doubt have worked on other girls but Y/N only found them cute. 

She was shaking her head as she took the other plate and dumped half of the food onto it. She ignored his protesting as she pushed the other plate towards him. She had given him the bigger chunk of chicken and the bigger half of the pasta but the piles of food were still more or less equal to each other. She doubted he even noticed the slight difference, especially since she pushed the other plate far away from him. “If we’re still hungry at the end of the meal, we can go to the cafe down the street.” 

He raised a brow at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. His face was barely an inch away from her, his green eyes practically glittering as he spoke. “Is that your move, cherie? Starving a man so you can take him out on a coffee date?”

She didn’t even try to stop her laughter, not as Charles pulled her chair closer to his own until she was pressed flushed against him. His arm automatically pulled her to him, his own lips pulled into a smile before he lowered himself on to her mouth. Their kiss was sweet, as sweet as this moment was. A moment that Y/N was sure she would never forget.

[lev1hei1chou]

Little Rival

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo's biggest rival in getting your attention is his son Masterlist Requests open!

Gojo Satoru found himself locked in an unexpected battle. This time, his opponent was not a curse or a rival sorcerer, but his own infant son, Haru.

It started one sunny morning. Gojo, ever the loving husband, leaned in to kiss you, when Haru, nestled in your arms, suddenly grabbed your shirt and pulled you closer, glaring at his father with a look of pure defiance.

“Someone’s getting possessive,” Gojo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Haru stuck his tongue out at his father, eliciting a laugh from you. “Oh, you’re just too cute!” you cooed, showering Haru with kisses.

Satoru's smile faltered. “Hey, what about me?” he pouted, trying to reclaim his wife’s attention.

But Haru was relentless. Every time Gojo made a move to hug or kiss you, Haru would wiggle his way between both of you, giggling victoriously. Gojo’s frustration grew as he watched his wife’s affection being monopolized by their little bundle of joy.

One evening, as you cuddled on the couch, Gojo attempted to steal a kiss. Just as your lips were about to touch, Haru let out a dramatic wail, clinging to you as if his world was ending.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked, your attention instantly shifting to Haru.

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seriously, kid? Do you have some sort of radar for these moments?”

Haru’s response was to bury his face into your neck, casting a smug look at his father over your shoulder.

The weeks went by, and Gojo couldn’t help but notice Haru’s strategic interruptions. During your planned date nights, Haru would suddenly develop a mysterious cough or start crying uncontrollably.

“We can’t leave him like this,” you said, canceling your plans for the fourth time in a row.

Gojo’s jaw tightened. “Haru, buddy, you’re really killing my vibe here.”

Haru blinked innocently, but the glint of mischief in his eyes told a different story.

At this point, Gojo was determined to outsmart his pint-sized rival, and devised a new strategy. Spontaneous displays of affection. One afternoon, he swooped you into his arms, planting a firm kiss on your lips.

Haru, sensing the shift in attention, immediately started crying, looking pitifully at his mother.

“Oh no, not again,” you exclaimed, rushing to Haru’s side.

Gojo threw his hands up in exasperation. “Seriously, is this kid for real?”

Despite his frustration, Gojo couldn’t help but admire Haru’s determination. The baby had clearly taken it upon himself to be the sole recipient of your attention.

Whenever Gojo tried to steal a moment alone with his wife, Haru would do absolutely everything in his power—faking sickness, crying dramatically, and even physically pushing his father away.

One evening, you finally managed to get Haru to sleep. Quietly tiptoe-ing out of the nursery, you hoped to enjoy a quiet dinner together. But somehow as soon as you sat down, Haru’s piercing cry echoed through the house.

“I’ll get him,” you sighed, standing up.

Gojo grabbed your hand, and pulled you back gently. “Wait. Let’s give him a minute. He needs to learn that we need time together too.”

Nodding, you sat back down. Haru’s cries grew louder, and after a few moments, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Okay, fine,” Gojo muttered, following you to the nursery, defeated.

Haru lay in his crib, red-faced and wailing. As soon as you picked him up, he stopped crying, flashing a triumphant smile at Gojo.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

As the days turned into weeks, Gojo’s determination to reclaim his wife’s attention only grew stronger. He tried everything—gifts, romantic gestures, even enlisting the help of his friends to babysit Haru. But the baby always seemed to find a way to intervene.

One night, Gojo tried to distract Haru with a new toy while you snuggled on the couch. Just as he thought he might have a moment of peace, the child tossed the toy aside and crawled over.

“Mommy!” he demanded, clambering onto your lap.

Satoru groaned, flopping back against the couch. “I give up. The kid’s unbeatable.”

You laughed, ruffling your husband's hair. “You’re both so silly. There’s enough of me to go around, you know.”

Gojo grumbled, but he couldn’t stay mad. Watching you with Haru, he felt his heart swell with love. Despite the constant interruptions, he knew the both of you were everything he's ever wanted.

Later that night, as you and Gojo lay in bed, Haru snuggled between both of you. Gojo reached over and squeezed your hand.

“I guess I can share,” he said with a smile.

Haru gurgled happily, and you leaned over to kiss Gojo softly. “Thank you, Satoru. You’re a great dad.”

Gojo sighed, resigned but content. “Yeah, yeah. But just wait until he enters elementary school. Then it’s my turn to have you all to myself.”

Haru, as if understanding his father’s words, stuck his tongue out one last time before drifting off to sleep, nestled safely between his parents.

[artofchoisan]

MAKING THE GAMER LORD JEALOUS?

Idol!Gamer!Yunho x Jealous!Reader

The Plot: Caught in the whirlwind of your boyfriend Jeong Yunho’s obsession with the tactical shooter game Valorant, you feel neglected as his gaming sessions consume his time, leaving you craving his attention. Frustrated and desperate, you devise a plan with Yunho’s friend Wooyoung to provoke his jealousy by flirting with professional gamers from T1, hoping to reignite his focus on you. However, your scheme pushes Yunho too far, awakening his possessive side, and he decides to punish you for your actions, reminding you exactly who you belong to.

TW: Punishment, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Bondage (Collar and Leash), Edging, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Spanking, Light Choking, Dirty Talk

Words: 6.8k

► ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Everyone that ever step foot upon this earth always come across some sort of enemy, someone that instilled a hatred into them that until their last breath would be casted upon this realm of existence, they would clung tightly to it and as for your case, your hatred was unfortunately not towards a person though you wished it had been the case, it would have been simpler and easier.

Alas, no. 

It wasn't a person that caused a fire of anger and annoyance to clash like two warring storms in your soul.

It was this godforsaken game, Valorant.

A bonehead game that takes all your boyfriend's attention. 

Jeong Yunho had nothing on any other guys that you’ve been with. A sweetheart and perfection on legs with the personality of a golden retriever and a smile that not even the brightest star in the universe can go against.

Warm and gentleness was injected into his veins and when his smile lit up the room it mirrored an adorable golden retriever wagging its tail out of pure joy and love and lets not get started on though warmth lingers in him, in the intimacy he is an alpha in heat between the sheets with bedroom eyes and a roughness that caused pure ecstasy. 

Yet sometimes when he isn't being soft-spoken or sin-drenched.

Yunho just plays this team-based first-person tactical hero shooter called Valorant and these days it’s been more than normal to the point where on a live to his fans, he even played that and even before this live he wanted to practice which means you’ve been just left there although he had tried to make you to play with him, it failed to spark your interest.

He understands you.

You understand him.

Yet you could do nothing yet to only crave for his attention, his tour had just finished and you thought he would pounce on you like a starved beast and ravage you leaving you with hickeys and love bruises and bite shattered all over your skin.

But no as soon as the tour was done he only went onto practice mode even when the management had told him he didn't need to practice and can just have some time for himself he refused and went on full practice mode.

Nonetheless you didn't want to tell him how abandoned you felt, you knew him too well and knew that he wanted to finish it before allowing himself to loosen up before more of his schedule took up his time. 

There were only a few hours left and your lover was still practicing as you were just lying in the bedroom on your phone, before your eyes darted up when you noticed you got a notification from…Wooyoung? 

Humming in confusion you opened the message and your eyes widened before you let out a silent scoff. You've spoken to Wooyoung about how it was with Yunho and he told you he would find a way to get what you wanted and it was this little menace who gave you the idea of riling up Yunho so as to give you what you wanted.

“This guy is truly something.” You breathed out as you read Wooyoung’s plan who also had somehow dragged the management as well into this, this plan was truly unhinge yet you’ve expected nothing less from Jung Wooyoung, “Let’s get the plan started.”

The hours went by and just like that Yunho was ready and the live was soon to start the live before Wooyoung wicked agenda started to be put in action when the manager signalled Yunho, “Also Yunho, this will not be told to the fan but we’ve got a special something for you.”

“What happened?” Yunho inquired curiously as he adjusted his headset.

“The first team you will be playing against will be some members from T1 who are Oner, Gumayushi, Keria, Doran and Chovy from Gen.G.” As the manager processed this information to Yunho, you noticed how his eyes grew wider and wider as well as how his mouth dropped. He was just put against the best pro gamers of the whole country with T1 members who are known as the gods of the gaming scene and who are just as famous if not even more than any other idols.

“Is this a joke?” Was what he first blurted out as he couldn't believe what he was hearing with his expression clouded in confusion, “How did you guys even manage that?”

The manager could only shrug at this with his reply being, “They just wanted to give you this as a gift so what you have to do is to not let it out to the fans that you’re playing against them.”

Yunho nodded slowly as he rested back on his chair, confusion still etched into his demeanor, his mind lost in thought as he adjusted the volume and started the game. 

He locked into a playful expression as he started the live, “Hello Atiny!” His bright smile lit up the scene and as soon he did, the other players joined in as well who were the members of T1 but they were on different names so as to not cause any suspicion.

What the fans might also not be aware of was the fact he wasn't in KQ building but at SK Telecom building and in the next room were the members of T1, you could do nothing but to also wonder what kind of magic wandered along the fingertips of Wooyoung to being able to pull such a scheme.

Then when you think more about it, Keria from T1 is just as unhinged as Wooyoung so they could be friends.

Demons danced onto his weary shoulders as the pressure took hold on him, your plan to get back to him, gain your boyfriend a one of a lifetime chance and honor to go against the best team not only of Korea but of the whole world although not in the game they’re the gods.

Once the game was on you’ve had no idea what was even going on so you’ve just decided to go walk around the SK telecom building after around one hour of forcing your gaze to focus on the game Yunho was playing, despite everything he always look so good when he is on full concentration mode like that and you couldn't help but hold in your giggles at each and every moment he almost curses out.

You’ve been walking around as you get access to all the different kinds of rooms in SK telecom. It has been nothing but pure fun as you’ve fallen asleep for around two and a half on the massage chairs in the resting room area. 

“Two hours already damn…” You whispered as you stretched out and rubbed your eyes, “Those chairs are so comfortable though but ugh so hungry now.”

What you’ve kept as a secret from Yunho is the fact that you’re indeed not one for games but you’ve fallen in love with the humility of T1’s members and you knew that Wooyoung was aware of that and you were just dreading what his plan actually implied as you walked towards the cafeteria.

By now the match along with the live must have already ended as you can see Oner, Keria and Gumayushi walking into the cafeteria. Looks like indeed Wooyoung was friends with Keria as when he saw you he pointed and rushed to you with the other two following behind, “You must be the person Wooyoung told us about.”

As he spoke, the smirk dancing on the corner of his eyes caught your attention, yet you could only smile shyly, you admired him just as much as you were in awe in front of Faker, “I guess I am.” You giggled, “How was the match?”

“He’s boiling right now.” This reply came from Oner who happened to just sat next to you making you in the middle of a way too playful Keria and a calm yet amused Oner who was just sipping on his drink before a another smirk appeared, “Once the live was done he lost his cool.”

You knew it too well how your boyfriend can be when he lost and he tended to also curse the hell out of the enemy team and then it was then it registered to you, Wooyoung this little menace.

“I heard you’ve been a fan of ours.” A wicked charming smirk carved across Oner’s face.

Keria then joined in and added, “And another rumour is going on that you’ve got a crush on Oner right there.” 

As soon as he spoke those words your face not only blossomed into a deep red but at the same time Oner was quite close to you and to top it all off, you got all red from how shy you’ve felt but trying to look away your eyes cross path with someone whom definitely heard everything as they entered the cafeteria and it was Yunho.

Those eyes of his never lied, it got darkened as his whole body looked tensed yet as calmness wrapped around his demeanor another truth could be etched was how he had his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, carving him into a hungry beast thrusting for its next prey and set to annihilate anyone that ever played with his nerve.

So, seeing the man that just beat him flirting with his girl so close with said girl getting all shy just didn't make it any better.

And what did you do?

Played along because your dear boyfriend needed a wake up call and you were needy for him.

So two can play at this game as you turn your gaze back onto Oner and smiled as you adjusted a strand of hair behind your ear, “You caught me there, although Faker win my heart, you’re not so far ahead—”

As soon as those ghosts of words slipped from your lips, a crash was heard and you look behind to see a glass had slipped from Yunho’s hand where some staff rushed to see if he was alright and he only nodded but you could see the murderous intent that threatened to break free into his gaze.

His stare turned back to you and it brought chills to your body as excitement twisted and slithered under your skin and you only handed Yunho an innocent smile and a challenging look before turning back to Oner and smiled.

The only thought in your mind as the chef plated the food to you and the others is how to add more salt to the injury as you picked a bite of your chicken, “You guys are so lucky to have your own private chef and the food looks so good.”

Oner hummed in response as he devoured his food, “You can come over anytime.” The pro gamer winked teasingly at you, “You’d get all this good food for free.”

“Then I would love to.” You take a bite of your chicken and you were not lying as this food tasted divine then you took another piece of chicken from your fork and handed it toward Oner’s mouth, “Here try some of mine, it’s really good and since you seem to exercise a lot it look like you’ll need lots of protein.”

As all of this scene was unfolding, you were not blind of the lethal stare that was locked onto you that you blatantly ignored as you only giggled closer to Oner.

Adding even more salt to the wound that was opened you added, “Well I’m not well versed in the gaming scene but I guess you can teach me then.” 

Mic drop.

The final attack.

Yunho was the first one who had to disappear due to one last schedule of the day. You thanked Keria and Oner for their help and both of them chuckled before Oner added, “I just hope he won’t punch me  in the face next time we meet.”

Keria laughed, “Currently it's more her in hot waters right now.” Then a serious tone darted onto his words, “I understand your reasons and having a gamer boyfriend plus idol isn't for the fainted heart but seeing the way how he wanted to just walk straight over here and slammed Oner’s head onto the table, this guy really in love and just needed a wake up call.”

Gratitude warmth in your tone as you thanked them, it was time for you to return home and you’ve barely crossed the threshold of the shared apartment of you and Yunho that you could almost feel the tension that burned into the atmosphere as you threw your back on the couch, exhausted.

Yunho was inside the place, his shoes were just outside and he always knew you were inside the apartment.

Only closing your eyes as you rested your head back against the couch, the light was turn on and the room was illuminated by the glow of the moonlight and streetlight followed by the light breeze of the opened balcony door was relaxing and you could feel yourself slowly fall back into the arms of Morpheus, however, the sound of the bedroom door opening caused you to slowly open your eyes.

Jeong Yunho stood in front of you, fresh out of the shower, with one towel around his waist and another around his neck as droplets of water dripping from his hair while the the haunting gleam of the moon gently touched his frame making him even more ethereal while his gaze had a dangerous fire shining into them.

A smoldering gaze of yours danced across his bared body, his abdominal muscles were a sight to see and the droplets of water that slithered down the curved of those muscles cause for the anger that hurled inside of you to escape and it did, in a short and cold tone, “Something the matter Yunho?”

His expressionless eyes met yours, “Shouldn't you be the one telling me what’s going on.”

This deep voice of his brought shivers to your spine and he looked down on you like that yet you knew how to control your emotions as you only handed him a smile, “Ah..” Mockery first, “You should’ve tried the food, it was delicious.” Taunting to end it. 

His hands came slamming down on each side of the couch and his darkened stare never left yours as his head tilted to the side, his face closer to yours as you felt his hot breath and the droplets of water falling softly. 

Fingers sinking in the couch with a force that caused you to flinch yet your face remained cold with a challenging look into your eyes that looked up at him, his breathing rushed and ragged onto your skin as he growled, “You’re testing my limits a bit too much now.”

Leaning closer towards his ear, “I have no idea what you’re talking about babe.” A dark amusement flickered in your voice.

Feeling him almost growling, you couldn't help your smile and just on time, your phone vibrated with a message and his dark eyes only darted at your phone, and fury could be seen from his gaze as he read the name it was from Hyeon-jun, Oner real name and this familiarity only enraged Yunho even more.

“I do not like what happened today.” A murmur lost into the darkness with a gaze burning with restrained and dangerous, “How you flirted, laughing and even fucking fed him food.”

Despite still holding the gaze of Yunho with a nonchalant challenging gaze. You couldn't help but to gulp, him swearing like that, his words dripped in a slow, smoldering drawl, it was so sinfully arousing.

“Let me take this, it’s quite rude to not answer.” Ignoring him and reaching out for your phone only burned his patience to ash as his own composure snapped and he took the phone and throw it onto the other couch, “Hey that was quite rude—”

Your own words strangled before they could escape as the heat bled from his palm as the touch of his fingertips settled around the skin of your throat, claiming its presence without force and you managed to bite out half of the moan that gasped out.

Arousing tension licked up your spine, but you refused to give Yunho the satisfaction, though you knew he caught sight of how you gulped and how you almost moaned.

Only wanting to taunt him even more as a sickening smile crawled into life on your lips, “Didn't know you were into such a kink.”

A mild force traced your neck as he leaned closer to your ear, “Was it all for me?” Calm fury burning his tone as his hot breathing scorched your ear, lips almost touching them as he pressed on, voice like a low growl, “That you’re now being such a whore.” The words spilled out, darker with each breath and you didn't think such vulgarity from his mouth would turn you on so horridly like that.

“Knowing you…” Yunho growled, fingers still pressed around your neck as his slightly wet hair pressed against your forehead, “It must have been all just a sick idea from Wooyoung.” Yunho knew Wooyoung for so long that he wasn't surprised by his friend's antics but right now it had hit him way too close for him to see it as acceptable.

"You really wanna test me?" he whispered, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe as you fought yourself to not let any weakness seep through your demeanor.

Then, without warning, Yunho pushed himself away from you, standing tall as he ran a hand through his wet hair, jaw tight.

You blinked, watching him walk over to the TV — muscles tense under the towel as he opened the drawer like he was searching for something specific.

Your breath caught when you saw what he pulled out.

A black leather collar and leash.

Your eyes widened in bewilderment. "Yunho?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to face you, dangling the leash from his fingers as he stared you down.

"You wanna act like a brat, flirting with that guy — the one who beat me?" His voice was low, rough, cutting right through you as his tongue poke the inside of his mouth. "You think I wouldn't notice? You think I wouldn't do something about it?"

He took a slow step toward you, his gaze never leaving yours.

"And you know what's funny?" he said, a dark smirk curling on his lips. "Wooyoung gave me this as a joke." He let out a soft, bitter chuckle. "Said I'd need it when you start acting out. Looks like he was right."

You swallowed thickly as he stood in front of you, holding out the collar.

"Put it on." His voice was sharp, commanding.

You hesitated, heart pounding. "Yunho—"

He tilted his head, stepping closer until he was towering over you again. "I’m not asking."

When you didn’t move, his hand gently gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "Do I need to do it for you?"

The heat from his body, the seriousness in his eyes, made you shiver. "You wanna play games?" he murmured, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. "Let's play." He dropped the collar in your lap, the metal buckle cold against your skin, and as you stared down at it, realization sank in.

You pushed him too far this time.

And now... Yunho was going to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

Your fingers trembled slightly as they brushed over the leather collar resting in your lap. You could feel Yunho's gaze burning into you, watching, waiting.

When you didn’t move fast enough, he let out a soft, dangerous laugh. "You always have so much to say," he murmured, leaning in close again, his hand reaching out to snatch the collar from your hands.

"Guess I’ll do it myself."

Before you could react, he was behind you, fingers brushing your neck as he gently — but firmly — wrapped the collar around your throat. His knuckles grazed your skin as he adjusted the strap, and when you swallowed, you felt the leather tighten perfectly around you.

The click of the buckle locking into place echoed in your ears, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Perfect," Yunho whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, making you shudder.

Then he moved around to face you again, tugging lightly on the leash now clipped to the collar. You gasped as the gentle pull forced you to look up at him, meeting his dark, heated gaze.

"You wanted my attention, didn’t you?" he smirked, crouching down in front of you, his free hand sliding up your thigh, teasing but possessive. "Well, sweetheart, now you’ve got all of it."

Your breath hitched as his fingers grazed higher, slipping under the hem of your shorts, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of watching you squirm.

"You think I’m gonna let you get away with teasing me all day? Flirting with some other guy?" His hand suddenly gripped your thigh tightly, making you gasp, as he yanked the leash just enough to bring your face inches from his.

"No, baby," he whispered darkly. "Now you're gonna be good for me."

Without warning, he leaned in and claimed your lips, the kiss rough and demanding, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he tugged it between his teeth, making you whimper softly.

"Yunho—"

"Shh," he smirked, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his hand sliding higher until his fingers brushed over the sensitive heat between your legs. "Look at you," he teased, eyes glinting. "Already so worked up... from what? Me? Or the thought of wearing this for me?" He tugged on the leash again for emphasis.

You let out a shaky breath, cheeks flushed as you tried to steady yourself.

"That's what I thought."

Standing up slowly, he looked down at you, towering, the towel around his waist hanging on dangerously loose now. His eyes trailed over your body, dark and hungry.

"Take it off."

You blinked up at him. "W-what?"

He tilted his head, smirk turning sharper. "Your clothes. Off. Now."

When you hesitated again, he tugged sharply on the leash, pulling you up to stand in front of him. You gasped, stumbling a bit, and he caught your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him.

"You wanted to act like a brat, now you’ll act like my good little pet," he whispered, voice sending shivers through you. "Or do I need to help you with that too?"

As Yunho’s hand slid down with slow, deliberate intent, his fingers grazed along your waistline before moving to the button of your shorts. His eyes never left yours — sharp, dark, filled with a dangerous kind of patience, daring you to push him further, daring you to say no.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You didn’t want to.

Your lips parted slightly as you stared up at him, breathing uneven, but still trying to keep that spark of defiance in your gaze, refusing to give him the full satisfaction just yet.

"After this," Yunho murmured darkly, voice low and rumbling like thunder, "you won’t forget who you belong to."

His hand gave a sharp tug to your shorts, letting them slide down your thighs before pulling back. Then, without breaking eye contact, Yunho’s fingers moved to the towel hanging dangerously low on his hips.

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering in your chest — but refused to look away, even as he let the towel drop.

And God, the sight of him made your knees weak.

His cock stood thick and heavy, already hard — long and veiny, with thick veins running along the length, pulsing slightly with each heartbeat. The tip was flushed a deep red, already leaking a drop of precum that made you bite your lip without meaning to.

He was huge, bigger than you ever teased him about — and you knew it, but you still smirked up at him, tilting your head slightly.

"Wow," you breathed, tone laced with a teasing edge, grinning despite the heat rising in your cheeks. "Getting all worked up just because I was a little brat, huh?"

Yunho’s jaw ticked, eyes narrowing, though that smirk never left his lips.

"Keep running that mouth," he said smoothly, wrapping the leash once around his hand as he loomed over you. "See what happens."

Still, you couldn’t help but lean back on the couch slightly, legs spread just enough to tease him, fingers brushing over your own thighs as you looked him up and down.

"Hmm, maybe I’ll need a closer look," you purred, though your voice trembled just a little at the end — a mix of fearless teasing and nervous excitement.

That was all Yunho needed.

With one sharp tug of the leash, he pulled you forward, forcing you to slide off the couch and land on your knees in front of him — exactly where he wanted you.

"Since you want to act like a brat so bad," Yunho growled, staring down at you, his cock now mere inches from your lips. "You can start by putting that mouth to better use."

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, lips curling into a playful smirk.

"And if I don’t?" you challenged, though your body betrayed you, thighs pressing together, breath quickening.

Yunho chuckled darkly, reaching down to brush his thumb over your lips, applying just enough pressure to make you part them.

"Oh, baby," he whispered, smirk deepening. "You will."

Yunho’s thumb dragged slowly over your bottom lip, his cock hovering right in front of your mouth, thick and pulsing, veins running along the length that made your throat tighten just from looking.

“Open up,” he said, voice dark and commanding, giving the leash in his hand a sharp tug that made the collar press tighter against your throat.

You gasped at the pull, lips parting without thinking, and he immediately took the chance to slide the swollen head over your tongue, groaning as your mouth wrapped around him.

“Good girl,” Yunho murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you, “You’re being such a good little girl for me.”

You tried to keep control, hollowing your cheeks, tongue swirling teasingly around the tip as you sucked gently — eyes flicking up at him with a bratty glint, as if daring him to react.

And he did.

With a growl, Yunho’s hand in the leash yanked it harder, forcing you to take more of him, your eyes going wide as his thick cock pushed deeper down your throat.

“Yeah, you wanna tease? Keep going,” he grunted, pulling tighter until your nose pressed against his skin, your throat stretching painfully to take him all.

Your hands gripped his thighs tightly as you choked around him, drool spilling from the corners of your lips, a muffled gag vibrating against his length.

“Fuck— look at you,” he groaned, throwing his head back for a second before staring down at you again, his abs flexing as he held you there for a moment longer, making sure you could feel every inch of him buried in your throat.

You whimpered, throat convulsing as you tried to adjust, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t back away — instead, you pushed your tongue out, flattening it against the underside of his cock to make him groan louder.

“Such a good fuckin’ toy for me,” Yunho hissed, pulling back just enough to let you gasp for air, only to thrust back in, harder, deeper.

Your hands trembled as you clung to his thighs, and Yunho gave another rough pull on the leash, forcing you back down on him until you were gagging again, choking and drooling around his length.

“Choke on it, baby,” he growled, watching as your throat struggled to take him. “You wanna be a brat? Then you can take it all.”

Tears ran down your cheeks now, but the heat in your core only got worse, and even as you choked, you moaned around him — the sound sending vibrations along his cock that made Yunho curse under his breath.

“Shit—” he gasped, tightening his grip on the leash as he set a brutal pace, fucking your mouth with deep, rough thrusts, each one making you gag louder.

You could barely think, mind fuzzy from the lack of air, tears streaming freely, spit and precum coating your lips and chin in a filthy mess.

But still, even with your throat sore and raw, you looked up at him with glassy eyes, and somehow — somehow — you managed a smirk around his cock.

That look made Yunho snap.

“You wanna keep smirking?” he growled, giving another sharp yank of the leash that had you gasping and choking even more as he buried himself all the way down, holding you there, deep-throated and struggling, until your fingers dug into his thighs in desperation.

Finally, he pulled out, letting you fall back a little as you coughed, tears running down your cheeks, spit dripping from your chin.

You wiped your mouth with a trembling hand, panting hard, throat burning — but that little defiant smile was still there as you looked up at him.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” you rasped, voice raw but full of challenge.

Yunho’s eyes darkened dangerously, his cock twitching, still slick from your mouth.

“Oh, baby,” Yunho growled with a dark smirk, yanking the leash hard to pull you up roughly. “You think I’m done with you? I’m just getting fucking started.”

He shoved you back onto the couch, spreading your legs wide as he climbed between them, his cock thick and glistening, veins running along the shaft, twitching to be inside you.

“Look at you—mouth ruined, but still acting like a brat,” he sneered, stroking himself slowly as his eyes roamed your body.

Leaning in, he pressed the head of his cock against your soaked entrance, teasing you as he tightened the leash, making you gasp.

His lips brushed your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see how much of that attitude you’ve got left when I’m so deep inside you, you forget how to speak.”

He pushed in just a little, making you moan, before pulling back with a smirk. “You wanna tease me? Flirt with other men?” he whispered, biting your ear. “Nah, baby. I’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Yunho looked you dead in the eyes, pulling the leash to keep you right where he wanted.

Yunho hovered over you, his thick cock heavy and aching between your thighs, teasing your entrance but never pushing in — holding that power, that control, watching you with dark, hungry eyes.

The leash was still tight in his hand, fingers curled firmly around it, keeping you right where he wanted.

"You wanna act like a brat?" he growled low in your ear, his free hand gripping your thigh as he aligned himself. "I’m gonna make sure you remember who you belong to."

Your body trembled under him, heart racing, but just as he was about to push into you — right at that edge — something inside you cracked.

Despite the heat, despite your body wanting him, your heart ached with something deeper. You knew if you didn’t say something now — if you let this continue — things would only stay this way. You would never get to say what’s been eating you up inside.

The usual fire in your eyes dimmed, your gaze softening, shoulders sagging. You licked your lips nervously, voice barely a whisper as your fingers gripped the blanket under you.

“…Red.” It was soft — but loud enough for Yunho to hear.

His whole body froze instantly, like that single word knocked all the air out of his lungs. His eyes widened, the darkness vanishing in a blink, replaced with sudden panic. “F-fuck…” he breathed, dropping the leash like it burned him, hands coming up in the air as if afraid to touch you. “Baby? Shit, baby, are you okay? Did I—did I go too far? Please tell me.”

You stayed quiet, looking down, the weight of the moment heavy between you both.

“Baby—fuck,” he cursed under his breath again, scrambling to grab the nearest blanket and gently wrapping it around your shoulders, covering you up like you were fragile glass that might break. “Babe… please,” Yunho said softer, cupping your face but not fully touching, just hovering, scared. “Talk to me. Please.”

You shook your head, curling into yourself under the blanket. “It’s… it’s not that.”

Yunho’s brows furrowed, confused but still so concerned, his heart racing. “Can I—” he swallowed thickly, “Can I touch you?”

You looked up at him with teary eyes, giving a small nod.

Relief flooded his face as he gently, carefully pulled you into his arms, holding you close, cradling the back of your head like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

He rocked you softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, voice trembling, “I’m so sorry, angel… please tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if you don’t let me in.”

You sat quietly for a moment, heart pounding, before whispering, “I’m scared…”

Yunho’s arms tightened around you immediately. “Of me? Baby, no—”

You shook your head. “Not of you… I’m scared that gaming means more to you than I do.”

His whole body tensed. “What?”

“I’ve seen it happen before…” you admitted softly, eyes welling up as you stared at the blanket in your lap. “I’ve seen people I care about get so lost in games, they forget everyone else. I’ve seen families fall apart because someone couldn’t put the controller down long enough to love the people waiting for them. I’m scared you’ll choose that too. That I’ll never be more important than a game.”

Yunho’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. “Oh baby… oh my god, no…”

He gently cupped your face, tilting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his soft, teary eyes.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying that. I didn’t know… fuck, I should’ve noticed, should’ve asked what was going on in that beautiful head of yours,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“I should’ve seen that you were scared… should’ve never let it get this far. I’m so sorry, baby.”

His voice was soft, breaking slightly as he cradled you close, his warmth surrounding you.

You clung to him, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt like you were scared to let go, head resting against his chest as his heartbeat thudded loud and steady beneath your ear.

“Promise me?” you whispered, your voice small, vulnerable.

Yunho pulled back just enough to see your face, cupping it gently in both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears that clung to your lashes, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips — so tender, so full of love it made your chest ache.

“I promise, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “You’ll never be second to anything. You come first. Always.”

And when you looked up at him, finally seeing his sweet self fully back, those warm brown eyes searching yours with nothing but love and worry, you could finally breathe — knowing he was still yours.

“I love you, angel. I’m gonna show you every day that you’re my world,” he murmured into your temple, rocking you in his arms like he never wanted to let go.

But as much as his embrace felt like home, your heart still carried the weight of what you needed to say.

You pulled back just slightly, enough to look him in the eyes, voice shaky but determined now.

“I wasn’t… scared of you, Yunho,” you whispered, eyes glimmering with raw honesty. “I knew you’d never truly hurt me.”

His brows furrowed, listening carefully.

“I was scared of what I’ve been seeing lately… scared of losing you to gaming,” you admitted, your throat tightening. “You’ve been gaming so much more than before, and… it’s like I’m not even there sometimes. Like the game gets all of you and I get… what's left over.”

Yunho's eyes widened, guilt and realization flooding over his face.

“I felt left out, Yunho,” you continued, voice cracking. “Like I was just watching you drift away, and I couldn’t reach you no matter how much I tried.”

“Baby…” he breathed, eyes full of regret as he cupped your face again, softer this time, brushing his thumbs gently across your skin like you were something precious he’d almost lost.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, angel?” he asked, voice low and pained. “I never wanted to make you feel that way — never.”

“I didn’t know how to say it,” you whispered, looking down. “I didn’t want to sound selfish or like I was being too much. But… watching you pull away, watching the game take up all your time… it hurt more than I could admit.”

Yunho pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment, breathing you in like he was grounding himself.

“I’m so sorry, baby. God, I didn’t realize I was making you feel that way…” he said, holding you tighter. “You’re never too much. Never. You are everything to me.”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch, finally letting yourself melt into the safety of his arms.

“I’ll do better,” Yunho promised firmly, pulling back enough to look you in the eyes, sincerity shining in his gaze. “I’ll cut back, baby. I don’t need all that — I need you. I wanna be here with you, really here. No more making you feel like you’re not my priority.”

You searched his eyes, seeing nothing but truth there, and a small smile broke through the sadness.

“I just want you, Yunho,” you whispered.

He smiled softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’ve got me, baby. All of me. From now on.”

With a deep breath, he kissed you gently — no heat, no dominance, just love.

And when he pulled back, he wrapped you tighter in the blanket, tucking you close to his chest.

“Let’s stay like this for a while, yeah?” he whispered against your hair. “Just you and me. No games, no distractions. Just us.”

You nodded, snuggling closer, feeling the weight lift from your chest as he held you like you were his whole world — and you knew, from now on, he’d make sure you always felt that way.

It’s been a few hours since the jealous events, you’re now relaxing your body into the bathtub that Yunho had made for you, as well as even to go to the extent or aromatherapy water and essence and let’s not even get started about the petal roses he added into the water and should I even mentioned the candles Yunho light up all around the bathroom.

Romance with him was indeed never dead with this man.

“Here you go my lady.” The puppy was once more back as he handed up a glass of red wine to which you took with a giggle, him being so fussy with you made you fall even deeper in love with you.

Communication indeed has been the key, telling him how you feel about him gaming too much and feeling like he couldn't care less, he had promised to be better and you know him that he was a man of his words.

The water was hot, the perfect burning temperature to which you adore, relaxing your muscles in the best way possible and soon enough your golden retriever of  a boyfriend joined you in the bath and you snuggled up onto him, a big smile on his face as he hug you closer, “Thank you for giving me another chance.” Words of love as he kisses your forehead.

“I’m just grateful that you understand Yunho.” 

Yunho takes a sip of his own glass of wine, “I’m just in shock how Wooyoung knew of T1 and had such close contact with them, I don't know if I should be grateful or get my revenge on this little menace.”

Pecking him on his cheek, an idea formed in your mind, “I’m thankful for him but how about giving him a taste of his own medicine.” Yunho tilted his head to the side giving you a questioning look, “Well Wooyoung’s girlfriend is a big fan of T1 and especially Faker and I’ve seen her going crazy over him, blushing and being all giddy. So how about we do that?”

“Wooyoung deserves it but how about his girl?”

Shaking your head, you turn your body to him and kiss his neck, feeling the warmth and the wetness of his skin as you trace your lips along his skin, “Trust me yuyu she is just as insane as Wooyoung. Let’s get the plan started.” 

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, cunningulus, f!reader, squirting, fingering, alcohol use, voyeurism Synopsis: after the war, you and Shigaraki spend time together while the rest of the League prepares for the final mission. Excessive drinking leads to a moment of intimacy between you and Shigaraki, with him tasting your cunt for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend Touya unexpectedly returns early and witnesses the scene A/N: this piece was commissioned on my Ko-fi page by my beloved @shonen-brainrot - I'm sharing this fic with her consent. Thank you for commissioning me, baby! I hope you enjoy it! Friendly reminder to everyone else: my writing commissions are open :)

MASTERLIST KO-FI COMISSIONS: OPEN

You spent a mere three months as a member of the League of Villains, yet during that brief period, you actively contributed to planning the Paranormal Liberation War. Despite the apparent "loss," you understood that, among other things, you achieved a strategic victory. After exiting the stage with Tomura and his other allies, you needed to keep a low profile, and so you did. Leveraging your quirk, Speed Recovery, you became a highly valuable asset to Shigaraki, aiding in the recovery of his injured allies.

Amid this intense three months period, you cultivated an unexpected understanding with the most enigmatic figure in the organization — Dabi. Astonishingly, he turned out to be the long-lost son of the Number One hero, Endeavor. Before you fully grasped it, you found yourself low-key "dating" - an understated term for the intensity of the connection. It encompassed spending endless hours together, engaging in profound conversations, and gradually closing the physical distance between you two.

Yet, an undercurrent of unease lingered as you sensed Tomura's discontent. Was he possibly envious of someone as seemingly ordinary as yourself? The uncertainty hung in the air, casting a shadow over the dynamics within the group.

You devoted considerable time meticulously plotting the retribution, even as you witnessed Tomura's growing anger and frustration. Reassuring him, you affirmed the intricacy of his plans, confidently asserting that soon you would unveil a lesson for the heroes, showing them their rightful place.

After the devastating War, Tomura visibly bore the weight of stress, engrossed in devising his next set of plans.

One evening, while the others were away preparing for the final mission, you and Tomura remained at the hideout, sipping from a shared bottle of vodka. The conversation delved into the details of the plan and the sacrifices it would inevitably demand.

Tomura took a sip, his crimson eyes fixed on you. "This mission will change everything. Sacrifices are inevitable."

You nodded, the weight of the responsibility settling in. "Yeah, but it's necessary. For a better future."

He smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "A better future, huh? How optimistic."

You chuckled, recognizing his penchant for cynicism. "Well, not everyone can be as optimistic as you, Tomura."

He leaned back, fingers tapping against the bottle. "Optimism won't save us. Practicality will."

You smirked, appreciating the contrast in your perspectives. "Practicality and a bit of optimism won't hurt."

Tomura scoffed, taking another sip. "You're incorrigible."

You raised an eyebrow. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

He chuckled, the corners of his lips curling into a rare smile. "Maybe. But let's not get too sentimental. We have work to do."

As the night wore on, the shared bottle of vodka dwindled, leaving both you and Tomura with a growing sense of intoxication.

"Thanks for the refill," you slurred appreciatively, the alcohol already making its presence felt.

Tomura, seemingly affected by the spirits as well, mused, "Can't believe Dabi didn't teach you how to drink."

You chuckled, the room swaying slightly. "Guess he missed that lesson."

With a nonchalant shrug, Tomura rose, tossing the empty bottle effortlessly into the trash bin. He went to a nearby cabinet, retrieving another bottle of alcohol and two fresh glasses.

You protested, waving your hands, but he poured you another drink, raising an eyebrow. "How are things between you and our lovely Todoroki, by the way?"

The question struck a chord, and you frowned, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the sudden turn into personal territory. "Well, you know, complicated," you replied evasively, taking a sip to buy some time.

Tomura leaned back, swirling his drink, his gaze fixed on you. "Complicated, huh? Must be quite a story."

You sighed, the alcohol loosening your tongue. "Yeah, it is. But we manage."

He nodded, taking a thoughtful sip. "Managing is something, I guess."

You attempted to shift the conversation away from your relationship with Dabi, bringing up other topics, but Tomura proved relentless. With a cocky grin, he circled back to Dabi, probing for more details.

"Come on, spill it. I want to hear the juicy bits," he taunted, swirling his drink with an unsettling confidence.

Sighing, you relented a little. "It's not that interesting, Tomura. Just the usual ups and downs. Nothing to discuss."

He leaned in, a dark glint in his eyes. "Ups and downs, huh? Sounds like there's more to it."

You rolled your eyes, realizing that steering the conversation away from Dabi was an uphill battle. "Can we talk about something else, Tomura? There's a whole world out there."

He chuckled, his laughter carrying a sinister undertone. "The world can wait."

As the night wore on, Tomura's questions became more probing, his tone growing darker and more insistent. He seemed to revel in the discomfort he caused, savoring every tidbit you reluctantly shared about your tumultuous relationship. Tomura got up, the creaking floorboards announcing his movement as he paced around the room. He cast a sly glance in your direction, the dim light highlighting the eerie grin on his face. "You know," he began, still walking, "I always suspected there was more to Dabi. But Endeavor's son? Now, that's interesting."

You shifted uncomfortably, eyeing him as he continued to circle the room. "Yeah, surprising, right?"

He chuckled, a sinister edge to his voice. "Perfect, actually. Vengeance is a powerful motivator. It'll make him even more useful for our cause."

Tomura took a place beside you on a worn-out couch, his arm casually wrapping around your shoulders. He poured another drink, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

You gave a weak smile, feeling a little uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. The tension heightened as his arm tightened around your shoulders, and he handed you the freshly poured drink.

"To unexpected alliances," he proposed, raising his glass.

You clinked yours against his, the liquid burning down your throat, the room spinning with a mix of alcohol and Tomura's ominous presence.

As Tomura poured another round, he seemed undeterred by the growing level of intoxication. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol.

In the midst of another casual conversation, Tomura, with an unsettling nonchalance, steered the dialogue back to Dabi. "Did he fuck you already?" he inquired abruptly, his tone cutting through the drunken haze that surrounded you.

Your cheeks flushed, and you visibly squirmed in discomfort at the unexpected and personal nature of the question. "It's none… None of your… Bussiness, Tomura," you hiccuped.

"Come on now, spill it. Did he or didn't he?" he pressed, a mocking grin playing on his lips.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the question. "Tomura, that's really none of your business…"

Tomura's grin widened, and he leaned back, seemingly pleased with your discomfort. "Sounds like a yes to me. Dabi's got taste, I'll give him that. Was he a gentleman, delicately tending to your needs, or more like a dog in heat, just claiming what's his?"

Your face burned hotter as you bit your lower lip, desperately downing the glass of vodka, and quickly covering your mouth after. "Something in between," you mumbled, your words slightly slurred.

Shigaraki chuckled darkly, throwing his head back. "Mmmm, I see. What a pity then. You deserve to be taken care of, baby. Such a little, pretty villain," he reached his gloved hand out and touched your cheek. The gloved touch sent shivers down your spine. "Did he eat your pussy?"

The nausea welled up inside you, and all you wanted was to escape to your tiny room and lie down. You nodded, managing a weak, "Yes," hoping it would satisfy Shigaraki and put an end to the uncomfortably intimate interrogation.

Tomura grinned, placing his glass on a tiny coffee table. He simply leaned in, crushing his lips onto yours without seeking your consent.

In your intoxicated state, attempts to push him away were feeble. His lips bore the flavor of vodka, but strangely, you found yourself not entirely opposed to the unexpected kiss. A part of you didn't mind what was happening at all, so you casually moved your lips against his in a dance influenced by the haze of alcohol.

Before you could fully comprehend the situation, his gloved hand, adorned with only two fingers covered by a black leather, slipped between your thighs and beneath the plain skirt you wore. His touch started at your thigh, skillfully massaging the soft flesh, while slowly ascending.

A gasp escaped your lips as a strange warmth began to build within your abdomen. You cursed yourself for reacting this way to your boss. You shouldn't be feeling like this; after all, you had a boyfriend. What would he think if he knew how Shigaraki's touch was affecting you? You blamed the intoxication for clouding your mind, and even if you desired to push Shigaraki away, you felt powerless; your hands seemed to weigh a ton.

Gloved fingers teased you through your panties, eliciting a gasp that escaped past your parted lips. You bit down on your lower lip, the sensations proving intoxicating, clouding the last remaining rationally-thinking parts of your brain.

As your head lolled back, resting against the back of the couch, Shigaraki licked the column of your neck. "Shhh, shhhh, it's okay. Ain't gonna hurt ya, sweetie. I just wanna make you feel good, like Dabi never did, I bet."

Shigaraki pushed the fabric of your panties aside, his touch careful as he rubbed against your folds, discovering they were already slick with your excitement. He grinned, licking his lips. "Look at you," he chuckled, hiccuping a little. "Mmm, already so wet for your boss. That's the attitude I like."

Shigaraki rose from the couch, a hiss escaping him as his pants grew uncomfortable, his dick tenting the fabric. He knelt down, parting your thighs, and took hold of the sides of your panties, skillfully tugging them down your legs until they were off completely. Bringing the garment to his nose, he sniffed it like a wild animal, licking the damp spot on the material and growling in anticipation. "Fuck," he muttered, his other hand palming himself through the fabric of his pants.

As the man licked a stripe along your slick folds, a loud whine escaped your lips, and you leaned back fully against the couch. Slowly, you brought your hand to your mouth, covering it as if to prevent all the moans from escaping. It felt so wrong, yet oh so right at the same time.

Shigaraki closed his lips around your clitoris, fervently sucking the swollen bud into his mouth. This left you writhing beneath him, moaning like a cheap whore you apparently were at that moment. His bare fingers, devoid of glove, expertly rubbed your entrance as Shigaraki continued to lap at your slick folds. The obscene noises he made filled the air, his head shaking left to right to increase the friction you sought with every roll of your hips, each movement trying to push your cunny further into his face.

"O-Oh, God…" you whimpered.

Shigaraki chuckled slightly before slipping his tongue into your entrance. It was the moment you arched your back, sliding one of your hands into his white hair, tugging it to bring his face and mouth closer to your heated core.

He skillfully fucked you with his tongue, his gloved fingers simultaneously massaging your clitoris, causing your wetness to spill all over his eager tongue. "Mhmmm," he grunted, still palming himself through his pants.

Lost in the throes of passion, neither of you heard the door opening. Little did you know that the rest of the League had returned to the hideout.

Dabi stood in the doorway leading to Shigaraki's office, his turquoise eyes wide open as he witnessed the scene unfolding before him — his boss, someone he had once considered a friend at some point, and his girl, getting laid.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki resumed lapping at your entrance, growling like an animal at your scent and taste. In contrast, you were already a moaning mess.

"I fucking love your little cunt," Shigaraki declared, kissing your swollen clitoris before returning to licking your dripping hole.

Dabi felt anger and jealousy building up within him, but he also sensed some primal desire. Casually closing the door, he walked over to the two of you, nonchalantly dipping down next to you on the couch. "Well, well, I see you two are having some fun, huh?" he growled.

It was then that you snapped your eyes open, instantly attempting to push Shigaraki off your pussy.

However, your boss simply looked at Dabi lazily, and after kissing your cunt, he straightened up, wiping his lips from your juices glistening there with the top of his palm. "Todoroki, you're back already."

Dabi scoffed. "What do you fucking think you're doing, Tomura?" Dabi growled, igniting a little blue flame on his left palm while his right one rested possessively on your knee.

"And what does it look like? I'm eating her cunny out," Shigaraki replied, a wry grin on his lips.

"She's fucking mine, and you're fucking aware of that," Dabi reminded.

Shigaraki chuckled darkly, waving his hand. "Oh, don't be such a dog in the manger. I didn't fuck her, yeah? Just licked her tiny cunt. That's not a fucking crime, is it?"

Dabi breathed angrily through his nose. "I can see you got fucking turned on just by her taste," he scoffed, glancing at the tent in Tomura's pants.

Shigaraki unselfconsciously palmed his dick, tilting his head to the side. "Can you blame me? Look at her, such a little naughty villainess we have here. And her taste is intoxicating."

Dabi scoffed again. "Imagine that I know, as I've fucked her many times already."

Tomura ran his bare fingers up and down your cunt. "Don't be angry at her, it's my fault. We got a little too wasted, and I kind of couldn't stop myself when I smelled her wetness," Shigaraki explained, pointing his chin at the coffee table and the empty bottle of alcohol and glasses.

Dabi shook his head in disapproval and reached his hand out, catching your chin between his index finger and thumb, tilting it so you faced him. "You're such a naughty whore, getting wet for him? Pathetic."

Your cheeks were still flushed. "S-sorry, Touya…" you whined pathetically.

Dabi looked into your half-opened eyes. He couldn't deny the twitch in his pants as he saw you so vulnerable and exposed. The idea of letting some other guy fuck you while he watched had always lingered in the dark corners of his twisted mind. Now, the opportunity presented itself. "You liked him licking your cunt, hmm?"

You bit at your knuckle, slowly nodding your head for yes.

Dabi sighed. "Fine. Make my girl cum," the scarred man ordered, looking at Shigaraki. "But don't you fucking dare to put your fucking, pathetic cock into her. That's exclusively mine privilege."

Shigaraki cocked his eyebrows, "Who do you think you are to boss me around, Dabi?"

Touya grinned nastily. "Seriously? Your cock already makes a damp spot in your pants, man. I know you want her. So give her what she wants. Make her fucking cum. Let her decide which one of us eats her pussy better. I'm sure she's gonna choose me."

"T-Touya, I.." you started, but your boyfriend placed his fingers on your lips, sealing them.

"Shut up and spread your legs wider like the good whore you are," he instructed.

You nodded hesitantly, following his words.

Shigaraki grunted, seeing your pussy spreading open just for him. He instantly dived between your legs, lapping at your folds again, making slurping noises and eating your cunt so intensely that the base of his nose nudged your swollen clitoris, making you whine.

Dabi watched the scene with a stoic expression attached to his scarred face. He reached one of his hands around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him so you rested your side against his chest. His other hand grabbed the hem of your skirt, hoisting it up your hips to provide himself with a better view of your drenched cunt and Shigaraki diving between your legs.

"You're such a needy whore," Dabi whispered into your ear, moving the arm he had wrapped around your shoulders to unbutton your shirt and fish out one of your breasts from the cup of your bra, fondling it gently. "So fucking wet. Look at the mess you made on this bastard's face."

You were whining, resting one elbow on Dabi's lap, moaning even louder as you felt his hardened cock making a bulge in his jeans.

Shigaraki slipped his gloved fingers into your cunt, massaging your inner walls.

Dabi grasped your chin and tilted your head, sloppily kissing your lips. Your tongues danced together.

Shigaraki spat down on your pussy, spreading his saliva all over your folds with his thumb. After that, he returned to sucking your clitoris while finger-fucking you.

You moaned in Dabi's mouth, breaking the kiss to bite your knuckle again as your thighs trembled after Tomura hit that super-sensitive, spongy spot deep within you. "Fuck…" you whispered, your eyes watering. "Holy shit."

Dabi chuckled darkly. "That's it, doll, let it go. Cum. I know you want to cum."

"Yes, d-daddy," you moaned and reached both hands to slip them in Tomura's messy hair, bringing his face closer to your dripping cunt to ride your orgasm all over his tongue and lips.

"Don't you fucking dare to stop licking her cunt. Stick your ugly tonuge out," Dabi instructed, and to his surprise, Shigaraki obeyed.

You grinded your pussy against you boss' flexed tongue, moaning louder and louder until your pussy clenched around his fingers, leaving you trembling all over your body, moaning and panting.

Of course, Dabi decided it was not enough, so he reached his hand down your body to gently rub your clitoris, only to spank it with his heated up fingers a few times.

You bucked your hips more until you squirted all over Shigaraki's face, moaning both their names as if it was the last prayer of your life; your runny juices covered your boss' chin, nose and lips, dripping down his cheek to his chest.

Shigaraki also panted and groaned, the damp stain on his crotch expanding, signaling he just came, too.

Dabi kissed your cheek, glancing down at Shigaraki. "Look at you, boss, getting so turned on by a mere woman. That's surprising," he rose from the couch, adjusting his hardened dick in his pants. "Now excuse me, I'm taking my girlfriend to my room so I can fuck her the way she likes the most," Todoroki easily scooped you up in his arms. "Oh, and thanks for preparing her for me. I appreciate that a lot."

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

fools in love

word count: 2k

summary: you and Mark have been friends for the past 12 years and have been in love with each other for 10 of them. It really sucks that you two are idiots. Luckily, your competitiveness brings you together. Finally. (@sobbingscripter, your talk about friends-to-lovers with Mark caused this to come to me like a prophecy.)

It had been a slow day of crime, with no alien invasion or monstrosity taking hold of Earth. For once, it was a normal day, and Mark wasn't wasting a second of it. 

Because today, he wasn't Invincible, and you weren't a fellow hero. Instead, he was just civilian Mark Grayson hanging out with his best friend, who he was hopelessly in love with. And you? You were just another civilian, love-struck by your best friend.

To celebrate, you and Mark had spent the day happily browsing shops. Your arms now laden with books, trinkets, vinyl, and comics to add to your collections, and despite only carrying a few bags, the ever-gentlemanly Mark laughs as you wrestle with your load. 

“I swear, if you just stand there and laugh, I’m going to kick your ass!” You gripe at him, a scowl on your face. Marks continues his laugh as he comes and grabs the bags you were close to dropping. “Let’s get back to the car, you shop-acholic.” The playful smirk on his face causes your heart to skip a beat. 

As the last few hours of the day approached, you decided to picnic in a secluded park a few miles from town. You had been there for almost two hours, doing all the usual picnic tasks. Watching the clouds, pointing out their silly shapes, and observing the ducks as they waddled and swam away. Both of you breathed easily in the pleasant spring weather. 

An unsaid dread settled over you two as you realized the day was ending. Who knows what tomorrow will be like, and who knows when you'll get to pretend to be carefree again? You watched as Mark glared at the pond, his shoulders tense. You didn't need to ask him what was wrong; his face conveyed all his emotions. Not wanting to end the day on a sad note, you rolled the dice in your mind, trying to devise something to distract him. 

"Want to have a staring contest?" Your voice drifts softly through the quiet moment. 

"What?" Mark turns his attention back to you, one eyebrow raised, wondering if he had heard you correctly. 

"A staring contest. You know, trying to see who has the stronger eyes." You shrug your shoulders.

"I don't think that's what the contest is for." 

"I think it is, but we don't have to if you're too worried about losing."

"Who said I'd lose?" 

So now your eyes peer deeply into Mark's. The setting sun casting a warm glow on his face, catching the high points of his ivory skin and making his dark brown eyes shimmer like melted honey.

It's been forty-five seconds since you started your competition—a silent battle of dominance. 

"How long until you give up?" Mark asked, his voice dripping with cockiness. The little smirk on his face only fuels your desire to win. You debate in responding, wanting to keep all focus on keeping your eyes open. But you give in.

"Do you always talk a big game, or is it only when you know you're going to lose?" You copy his cockiness with a smirk. 

"Not to brag, but I do have amazing stamina. It's like the whole thing with Viltrumites." Clearly, Mark is using all his focus to keep his eyes unblinking, too. His mind missing the accidental innuendo. 

Dropping your voice an octave, you tease him, "Amazing stamina, huh?" A flush spreads over his cheeks, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes. "Is that you talking big game again?" 

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"So you're saying you're shit in the sack?"

"No, I'm not- I- can we stop talking about me having sex?" Mark's face burned a fiery red; you could almost feel the heat radiating off him as he struggled to regain his composure. "Can we just focus on the game?" he muttered, trying to steer the conversation away from his embarrassing slip-up. Unable to suppress a laugh, you conceded, "Alright," you said, adding with a playful jab, "but you were the one that brought it up." 

More seconds pass, and you're both holding firm. Neither one of you hinted at needing to blink. The only downside of looking into Mark's eyes this long is that it drives your mind to think of wild ideas. And, of course, you're none the wiser that Mark is in the same situation as you. As his mind races, his heart begs him to lean in and kiss you. Even just your knees resting against each other has his heart racing.

Mark does not fail to notice when your eyes droop slightly and open wider than before. He mulls over teasing you before deciding it's the best idea. Leaning in closer, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You look like you could use a break," he says, his tone light and teasing. "If you concede," he mimics you from earlier and drops his voice an octave. "I'll spare you the humiliation." It’s your turn to flush. 

"How generous. Does that come with being a Viltrumite, too?" 

"Nah, that's just the type of guy I am."

In response, you exhort air through your nose, "Oh wow. Not only do you have great stamina, but you're also incredibly generous. How are you even real?" 

"Hey! We agreed to move past that!" Mark's face scrunches up at your treachery.

You're trying to ignore how close you are to Mark, but the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses and makes it impossible. Sure, you've been close before. Mark has carried you when you couldn’t stand from your injuries, and you've pulled him out of danger plenty of times. But this, this feels different.

A gentle breeze blows directly into your eyes, and the mintiness accompanying it gives away Mark's tactic. You gasp dramatically. 

"That's crazy! You're so worried about losing that you're trying to sabotage me!"

His voice is smooth, "I'm just breathing. No sabotage here." His tactic works, and your eyes begin to feel like sandpaper. He continues blowing gentle, minty breaths at you, and without thinking, you raise your hand to cover his mouth. 

The heat of his wet tongue, slick and warm against your skin, sends a flush creeping up your neck. Refusing to move your palm away leads to him narrowing his eyes and licking at your palm persistently, covering it with his sticky saliva. 

"Mark, that's so gross!" You exclaim, wrinkling your nose. You pray that the dramatic reaction prevents him from noticing your flushed face. You retract your hand, and Mark barks out a laugh. 

Fine, if he wanted to play dirty, you'd get messy. 

You lunge forward, hands pressing into his chest. The surprise of the action knocks Mark down onto his back, and he grunts as his back pushes firmly into the ground beneath him.

"I win!" You boast, your eyes shining brightly with no shame towards your winning method.

"You cheated!" Mark exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Like you weren't?" You arched an eyebrow at him. "I didn't assault you, though," he retorted playfully.

The excitement fades, and in the aftermath of the thrill, you register the weight of his hands upon your hips. Perfectly positioned atop him, your hands remain spread across his chest. A shiver travels down your spine at his touch, a sensation intensified by the warmth of his hands that you travel through your shorts. Lost in the moment with him beneath you, you lean in, your breaths mingling, the intimacy deepening.

With widening eyes, a look of dawning awareness spread across Mark's face as he registered the closeness of your bodies. Leaning closer, you cause his breath to catch, and the air itself seems to vibrate with the unspoken, charged energy that hangs heavy between you. His gaze drifted to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes, leaving an unspoken question hanging in the air between you.

Are we about to do this?

You search his eyes for any sign of doubt, but all you find is yearning. Taking the next step, you lean in and press your lips against his. His lips feel just as soft and warm as you had imagined they would. The connection between your lips feels like matching puzzle pieces, making it seem as if you were made for each other.

His right hand raises to gently cup your face, his left hand firmly pressing against your hip, and your heart pounds rapidly in response to his touch. Unconsciously, your fingers dig into the muscle on his chest; Mark feels like he could die from the pleasure of the simple action. Your lips move perfectly against his. He deepens the kiss, with his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips. Shivers run down your spine, and your body erupts in goosebumps. You bask in the warmth of his body against yours. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment.

You're the first to pull away. Mark raises his head, attempting to keep your lips together. You're both breathless and flushed, your eyes meeting his with a newfound intensity. The world around you fades into a distant hum as you both struggle to regain your composure, the kiss lingering between you like a tangible presence. 

Climbing off of him, you shuffle back to your side of the blanket. Mark sits up, scratching the back of his neck with his hand. You both start speaking simultaneously, "So-" and "Uh-" overlapping. There's a pause as you look at each other.

Despite your best efforts to resist, a giddy smile crept onto your face, and you found Mark mirroring that same expression back at you, a reflection of your own joy. Even the distance could not diminish the intense flush of heat that colored both your and Mark's cheeks.

"Can I kiss you again?" Marks asks, already crawling on hands and knees toward you. 

"Please do." You bit your bottom lip as you watched him. 

Once he’s in your space, he kneels, and you crane your neck back to look at his eyes instead of his chest. Instead of going straight for your lips, he showers the right side of your face with gentle, whisper-like kisses, a warm, tingling sensation spreading with each touch. He switches sides. His lips slowly graze over yours, and then he’s peppering kisses all over the left. You can’t help but giggle at the sensation and how crazy it is that your best friend for the past twelve years is now smothering you in kisses.

His lips graze yours, sending shivers down your spine, and a groan escapes your lips, a silent plea for his touch. Luckily, the message is received loud and clear. His lips finally meet yours. He is gentle at first, but soon, Marks begins fervently kissing as if he can’t get enough of you. You fist at his shirt, and the world melts away as you lose yourself in Mark Grayson again.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours, a sigh escaping his lips. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers. You smile at him, eyes shining bright with adoration. “I’m sure I could take a guess.” 

With the sun’s descent below the horizon, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers swept over you and Mark, leaving you in the cool embrace of the spring night. The crickets’ chirping filled the air, a lone frog croaked from the nearby water, and fireflies blinked like tiny stars.

“I guess we should be leaving soon, huh?” You look at Mark and now feel the dread of the evening ending. 

“We can stay for a bit longer,” he murmured, breathing in your sweet scent.

So you lay under the blanket of stars, his strong arm an anchor to this moment. You felt the comforting warmth of his body and the soft, sweet pecks on your forehead.

[ugly-bug-starscream]

I can't help but notice that there's a little bit of a plot hole in TFOne, and you don't have to reply to this, but I wanted to share it before the plot bunnies took over my mind.

I know that the High Guard went to help the Primes, and that all of them were 'lost' during that fight, but, strategically, all of them going to help the Primes, doesn't make a lot of sense.

Especially when it leaves Iacon undefended.

So, did a skeleton crew of the High Guard, stay behind, to keep Iacon safe? Or did all of them go, leaving the protection of Iacon to other groups?

If did leave a skeleton crew behind, would they be responsible for 50% of Brainstorm's conspiracy theories?

OOHHH YOU ARE SO RIGHT FOR THIS

I remembered this ask and went back and read this, and been thinking since yesterday…

I imagine that sentinel would have wanted all high guard to depart to aid the primes (what I imagine that the high guard were already airborne to be ready to back the primes if necessary so they knew the plan of the meeting in the cave). But maybe last minute Starscream giving the order to leave a skeleton crew behind because sentinel’s request of “*all high guard should be held on standby*” doesn’t make sense to him…. Then the betrayal happens.

Sentinel not discovering theres a skeleton crew left in Iacon until he comes back and having to devise a plan.. and quietly strip them of their function. To seem like they “retired” but they were cast out and records disguarded.

Figuring on this idea and what characters I could assign to these *retired high guards without function* cause this is such a fun idea!!! thank you for pointing this out!!