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specialgradefckr · 3 days ago

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Anything you can do...

And what's so special about Satoru Gojo anyways? The way Satoru sees it, there's nothing the original can do that he can't. You shouldn't care about him anymore. You shouldn't care about anything but him.

This work is a part of a series! Read the first part here!

tw: explicit content. dubcon. drugging, captivity. selfcest. feet. yanderes all around. non-consensual cloning.

Gojo has one mission when he gets to you:

Clear his good name and prove to you that the "Satoru Gojo" who'd fooled you was actually a fraud.

Sure, you probably should have known from the beginning, being as obsessed with him as you were, but he had rejected you, and fixations can turn people to dark places.

It was probably all too easy for this phony to march into your life and convince you that all of your dreams had come true; Satoru Gojo loved you after all.

In a way, he feels kind of sorry for you. Really, he was about to break your heart for a second time. It's not even your fault! He himself could admit, the fake is shockingly compelling.

But you'd be devastated, truly. What a shame. To learn that all that love you received was from some stranger, a liar. That the man you desperately adored didn't really want you back.

Man, that's gonna suck for you! He tilts his head back, whistling as the car drives along.

Though he's still not really relationship material, he could probably stick around for that pity fuck. After all, you hadn't been ignoring him on purpose.

No; the reason you were ignoring him was because "he" was telling you to!

It was the perfect cover! If this guy was going to steal his identity, the number one threat to that was him - the real Gojo.

He'd probably intentionally told you to send those videos, only to laugh when you showed him the replies, and then explained that wasn't the "real" him.

The little faker must have even convinced you to keep sending them as a joke.

Then, if Gojo tried to tell you the truth, you'd just brush it off. And if he got pissed off from your messages, he might refuse to tell you at all - a win-win for the fake.

Smart. Of course, he'd probably have to be a little smart to fool you in the first place; his intelligence was one of his best traits. No way you'd mistake someone for him without it.

The car rolls up to your weirdly secluded, distant home. Kinda a pain to get to, honestly.

But it's worth it. Because if Gojo knows anything about that fake... he's probably watching right now. Who wouldn't, when Satoru Gojo was involved?

He steps out, taking time to stretch, let out a deep breath. A wide smile on his face as he stalks forward.

This is going to be fun.

What the fuck was this clown doing on your doorstep?

Satoru squints at the porch camera. Mostly just in annoyance, because he doesn't need to squint - six eyes and all.

Even then, it's hard to believe.

Not that Gojo was jealous and wanted a piece of you, now that he realized that he was missing out. That went without saying.

No, Satoru is shocked that he has the audacity to show up on your doorstep after turning you away. Rejecting you. Like he was drowning in genuine human connections and could afford to toss one out... ugh.

Even thinking about this guy feels gross.

"Go away."

The PA system is talking... in his voice. Which could be the phony, but also, you were probably obsessed with him enough to make a PA system that spoke exclusively in his voice.

Heh. You probably had it talk you through touching yourself, too, at least before the faker came around -

"So you're deaf, but I know you're not blind. DOOR IS CLOSED. GO AWAY."

A frown. "Well, that's not very nice of you."

"Oh, so you can speak? Well, shut up and leave. Loser."

Wait, no. No way this creep is calling him a loser.

"You want me gone that bad, huh?" Gojo slinks up to the doorway carelessly, ready to blast the handle open, "Gosh, must have something you reeeeaaaaally wanna hide, huh?"

"Typical." The PA system complains while he busts the door down, "Self-centered asshole doesn't know when he's not wanted. But that's just another day for you, isn't it?"

He pauses. "Wow. You know a lot about me. I didn't know I had two stalkers on board~"

There's an audible snort. "This is why you have no friends."

"I have tons of friends!" Comes Gojo's protest as he glances around the living room.

"Your students aren't friends, and they don't like you."

"Yuji likes me," Gojo strides quickly down the hallway, glaring with his six eyes for signs of life in the building, cursed energy.

"Yuji likes everyone. You also have no life."

The grin on his face turns sharp, wicked. "I have more of a life than you do. Taking on someone else's identity. Pretty scummy way of getting a girl's heart, don't you think?"

There's a pause - it's good to know he's shocked the phony into silence.

"You..."

Closer, now. He can see it! The cursed energy is concentrated, just inside this room -

And it's -

It's -

Him.

It's him. It's - it's Satoru Gojo, staring right back at him. The six eyes in the mirror. Only it's not a mirror, but a real, living person.

This is where Gojo decides he must be in a dream. Or a domain. Maybe you activated a secret curse technique? And this is a manifestation of your desire for him?

"...even hear me. Hello? HELLO? Stop staring and get the hell out of here. You'll wake her up."

Huh.

It's like he's talking to himself. It's him.

"How are you..." He trails off, tugging down the blindfold as he gesturing to the man across from him, "Your eyes. You have my eyes."

"You have my eyes, actually," Satoru answers without missing a beat, "I was here first."

Of course, he absolutely was not, but Gojo doesn't know that.

Gojo is pretty sure this guy is lying.

"Here first? Like, born first?" He glances down, catching you on the sofa, laying down, head in the other-Satoru's lap. "I got a twin brother I don't know about?"

No way the Gojo clan would be able to shut up and keep a secret like that to themselves. And even if they could, Gojo wouldn't be a little brother. He'd be the older one.

"Sure," Satoru says, in a hushed tone, with marked annoyance, "Now shut up and get out of your big brother's room. She's sleeping."

And you are. But from what he can see inside your brain activity, it's not normal sleep.

"Yeah, sure. Sleeping." His voice lowers. Cools. "Are you that desperate for my leftovers? Leave her alone."

And it is piercing, the glare that hits him. Six eyes going straight through him like an icicle. His own face twisted in an anger he doesn't think he's ever seen -

It's hot. Super hot. And unsettling, and strange, and he is so, so hard right now.

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Satoru hisses as you stir, "You're so jealous you had to come here?"

"Mmm..." Your eyes flick open, and Satoru's attention is immediately ripped off him.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes, leaning in to kiss your temple with a quiet, soothing hum.

Gojo's lips purse. All those videos; this guy fucking you, eating you out, ravishing you like a starving monster, using you like a fleshlight - and none of it had made him feel like this.

Something churns in his stomach. "Answer the question. What did you do to her? What did you tell her?"

"I love you," Satoru says, still staring at your sleepy-eyed face, and Gojo feels his stomach twist.

He stares, frozen in place. Satoru doesn't even look up at him.

"...Sa...toru...?" You mumble weakly, head falling to the side as if just that phrase was too taxing for you.

"Mmm-hmm, it's me!" Satoru smiles, a warm, fond look that goes all the way to his eyes. "I'm right here, love."

Creepy. The way he strokes your hair, holds you, dotes on you like you're some kind of pet. You're barely dressed, but not in anything erotic - just a large T-shirt. Probably one of his.

It's nauseating. Intimate. Domestic.

He's throbbing.

The worst part is, Gojo doesn't know if he's jealous of him - or you.

Because fuck, that smile looks good on his face. Features soft, glowing like a sunset, faint pink dusting his cheeks. Even the six eyes look like an ocean of warmth, affection, dripping down onto you. Those hands are fine, and cupping your face like that makes them appear even larger. Makes you look smaller.

And you're so cute like this. All tiny, curled up underneath him. He'd seen you commanding, cool, demanding, in the throes of pleasure, and unraveling; delicious, every time.

Not like this. Curled up and docile, nuzzling into his touch like a sleepy kitten. Leaning into him like an anchor, seeking out contact as naturally as you breathe. He feels sick with want.

"What did you do to her?" He says. The words sound out of place in this room, unwelcome in this sanctuary, "Drugs? Cursed energy?"

"Eh. Little bit of column A, little bit of column B. What's it to you?" Those eyes gleam quickly up at him, "This is your leftovers, right?"

"Please. She's clearly not over me if she's sending me your little sex tapes." Gojo takes a step closer, pulse soaring in his ears. "And you didn't answer my other question. What did you tell her?"

Satoru glares. "So you are deaf. You were right there when I said it. I love you."

It's so strange. His chest twists, hearing the words in his voice.

...he's never heard those words in his voice, has he?

"Not what I meant," Gojo skips over the issue entirely, "Did she find out that you're not me? Is that why you had to drug her?"

Satoru blinks his big blue eyes.

Silence.

He blinks again.

"You think-" A hand reaches up to Satoru's shirt, tugging, and he's looking down again, "Awh, what is it, sweetie?"

"Would you answer the damn-"

"Shut up!" Satoru snaps, pulling you carefully to sit up on his lap.

You fall against his chest limply, secured by an arm around your waist. Head tucked under his chin.

"You thirsty? Hungry? Wanna cum, baby? Just say the word." Satoru isn't even looking at him.

It's just - it's so annoying. This little shit sitting here like nothing's wrong, like he hasn't stolen Gojo's entire appearance and identity just to get with you.

He's got the fucking six eyes, and he can heal other people with reverse curse technique, and this is what he does? Fusses over you like a mother hen? Like you're the center of his world?

"You're disgusting," Gojo spits, surprised by his own vehemence. "Let her go."

You whimper and Satoru squeezes you.

Gojo watches; in horror, fascination, frozen to his spot as he watches Satoru's arm reach down, rolling up your shirt -

You're not wearing anything under there.

"Mmmhm..." You moan, lashes fluttering. Reaching up to grasp Satoru's muscled arm, weaky, while you writhe.

The sound sends tremors down his back, heat pooling in his gut.

Satoru meets his gaze with a low, knowing smirk. "Don't think she wants me to."

Gojo's feet take him another step closer. He's maybe one step away from you; two, max.

"And for the record, she's completely over you. I thought the videos would be evidence enough of that," Satoru shifts you in his lap, tugging your shirt up enough to bare your breasts, your cunt.

His hands roam your chest - they look so big on you, so wide, grasping, groping playfully over your torso, your breasts, drawing little noises out from you as you squirm fruitlessly in his lap.

His legs keep yours open. Wide.

It's dripping. Right in front of him. He feels like a deer in headlights, pinned in place at the sight of his own longer fingers plunging into your wet -

"But if you needed to see it in person so badly," Satoru drawls, and because he's closer, it's louder, lower, "Knock yourself out."

Those eyes meet him - his eyes - deep blue, intent, full of challenge -

Gojo lunges, driving his lips against Satoru's, shoving him against the sofa. You yelp, pinned between them, before Satoru pulls you closer with a hiss as he pulls away.

"The fuck are you doing?!" He glares - but his cheeks are dusted pink.

You squirm deliciously, and Gojo catches Satoru shifting behind you.

Straddling you, shamelessly, he grinds his bulge right up against you, and you moan, clenching on Satoru's fingers. He brushes Satoru's arm with his dick, too - heh. Let him see what he's packing.

Gojo doesn't tear his eyes away from Satoru's as he closes in on you, kissing at your cheek softly, "Is that true, baby?" He murmurs, sneaking a hand up along your torso to squeeze an exposed breast, "You're over me?"

Satoru's arm - the one that isn't fingering you - shoves at him, but Gojo doesn't budge.

"Come oooooon," He croons, nuzzling into your cheek as he holds his gaze, "You're not afraid of a little healthy competition. Are you?"

Close, closer - until their noses nearly touch. Until Satoru can see his eyes glitter with challenge.

"As if," Satoru rises to the bait, just like he would in his place. "I'm worried you don't know how to touch a woman. Seriously, not sure if you ever have."

He doesn't hesitate. He reaches straight for Satoru's dick - oh, it's long, hard, just as proud and pretty as in all the videos.

Just like his. Twitching as he tightens his grip.

The grunt he makes, face wincing in pleasure-pain; it's a familiar feeling to him, too.

"Awh, worried about little old me?" His smile bares teeth, "You're too kind."

He squeezes, drawing his hand up along Satoru's dick, watching his own handsome reflection tense in what he knows is mounting pleasure, a heady throb in his gut that always surges as he squeezes tighter at the shaft.

"Straight for the dick? Guess that's the only thing straight about you. Or maybe you're just that self-obsessed," Satoru taunts, as if his own dick isn't pulsing at a touch so like his own. "Just keep your hands off her."

And that last demand sends his gut churning. Something in him is enflamed.

He burns for it, for Satoru in front of him, possessive and beautiful, for you, delicate and treasured, for this thing between the two of you that magnetizes Satoru to your side and turns you to putty in his arms.

He wants. He wants he wants he wants and Satoru Gojo is not a man accustomed to being denied.

"Nah," Gojo nuzzles into your neck, sucking, nipping, watching Satoru's eyes linger hatefully on the mark he leaves, "I don't think I will."

After all, he's got to prove him wrong, right?

You're barely conscious most times Satoru wakes you.

It's not bad. At least you don't think it is, with your limited capacity to think.

The feeling is similar to being very sleepy, or very drunk. Half-stuck in a dream, only vaguely aware of your surroundings and what's going on.

But it doesn't matter, because Satoru is a diligent nursemaid. When he wants to be, anyways. When you need him to.

He brings you food, water. Feeds you, helps you sit up and drink. Distantly, you realize everything is probably laced, but it's all properly dosed, you're sure.

Otherwise you wouldn't be able to think this much. In these hazy moments when you can recognize what's happening.

So when you see another Satoru in the room, despite the warm body against your own, the breath on your neck, the arm around your waist - you aren't immediately worried.

Now, though?

Now you're a little bit worried.

"Who..." Your question falls seemingly on deaf ears as Gojo tilts your head to the side, sucking a mark into your neck.

It doesn't hurt, but Satoru's fingers curl tight inside you, his thumb brushing your clit, and you whine.

"Shhh, baby," Satoru murmurs from behind you, into your ear, "You worry too much. Don't worry, just sit back and enjoy."

"Oh, so now she's your pillow princess?" Gojo hums, "Big change from being her little slut locked up in a cock cage."

A scoff, cool against the saliva-slick skin on your neck, "Jealous much? I have someone who wants to make me feel good."

Satoru's fingers slip out of you, and you let out a breath, reaching up with your arms against the chest in front of you.

"Bet she wants to make me feel good, too," Pressing closer to you, "Bet she couldn't even tell the difference."

His chest is large, firm against your hands. The muscles are more defined, larger - even with the same genetics, Satoru doesn't get the exercise Gojo does - but you barely notice.

"Course she can't. She could hardly tell you her own name - not that you deserve to say it." And then a groan, "F-fuck. Let go of my dick already, you creep."

"Why, so you can fuck her?" A snicker, "You act so sweet on her, but you're really just using her to get off, yeah?"

"The fuck would you know about acting sweet? Have you ever told anyone you love them?"

There's a pause, there, where you feel the heat growing restlessly around you. Dazed, heated.

"Satoru...?" You mumble, head tilting to the side, cheek rubbing into the familiar cloud of white hair.

"...See? No difference." Gojo lifts his head, handsome face coming up to meet yours, "I'm just as good as him, right baby?"

His words are lost on you. All you can do is lean in for a kiss, lashes lowered, and feel his lips move against yours.

"Like I said," Arms, tighten around you, "Doesn't mean anything. You couldn't give her what she needed, and now you're nursing your wounded ego because I came around and did it better."

"You think?" All you catch is the sparkle of those crystal blue eyes.

He pulls away, tongue sticking out, lips still slick with saliva threading between your mouths.

Gojo's eyes catch Satoru's. "Bet I can make her cum with my mouth before you can with your dick."

"Sure, give yourself the biggest advantage," Satoru sneers, "Should I give you a ten minute head start, too, so you can find the clit first?"

Gojo slinks backwards, falling to his knees.

From your perspective, all you see is Satoru backing away from you - you whimper, reaching out weakly, voice low and longing.

It feels like a knife to his chest, looking at your face. The naked despair, the raw desire to have him back in your arms -

But it's only a moment before Satoru reassures you, kisses your cheek. Melting into his embrace comes naturally, relaxing as soon as you know your love has not left you.

It's as if you have to be touching him at all times. Like you need him the way you need air. It's cringey, codependent, but Gojo supposes that's the kind of sappy unrealistic stuff you're into.

He puts a hand on either of Satoru's knees, spreading his legs and yours.

"Up you go, baby," Satoru hums as he lifts you, and your feel his cock slip underneath your ass as he pulls you flush against his chest.

He bites his lip as Gojo snatches his cock without hesitation, guiding the head of it to slip past your entrance with a smirk.

"Could do both of you at once," He crows, "Your dick sure wasn't complaining about my touch."

And he knows exactly how to touch - to trace that weeping head with his thumb to get precum pearling at the tip, all mottled red and purple as it throbs in his hand.

"What can I say," Satoru shoots back, "You're obviously an expert. You and your hand must be so happy together."

Gojo fists his hand around his dick with a mean smile, clenching hard as he smirks up at him. Satoru bites his lip and holds you tighter.

"Baby," Satoru whispers, tilting your face to look back at him, "Cum with me, yeah? I'll tell you when, and you just gotta let go then."

"Oh, now you think she's gonna be the trained whore?" Gojo drawls, pressing Satoru's dick against your cunt. Still not inside, but enough to make you moan while Satoru hisses.

"Like you can say that," He grinds out, "You don't know anything about her."

"I saw your little videos," His eyes twinkle from between Satoru's legs; how he hates that face... but fuck if he's gorgeous, "You spoil her. Greedy little thing. She's used to getting whatever she wants from you."

Gojo's face slides up, up your thigh.

"Yeah she is, I do it on purpose. Cause I can." Satoru sticks his tongue out, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Unlike you."

Closing in on your cunt, on his cock, Gojo licks a line up Satoru's dick, enough to make him tense behind you.

"Yeah? You think so?" He suckles briefly at the trickle of cum at the head of Satoru's cock, making eye contact while he does. Unfliching.

And fuck, he looks good sucking dick. Satoru kinda wishes you had one, now... ooooh. Maybe a strap-on? Even more fun.

A slap on your thigh tugs his attention right back to the matter at hand.

"Don't make her wait any longer," Satoru lays a kiss by your temple, and you hum, "Or you can disappoint her with your shitty head game, and then put it in. Up to you, I guess."

"Shitty head game?" Hands guide his dick towards your entrance, as if he'd been waiting for the challenge.

A strangled moan escapes him as he slips into you, rutting his hips up. Open, shameless, because you're just that good. All wet and hot and clenching around him like your cunt can't stand to see him go.

It feels like he just belongs inside you. His hands reflexively trace over your cunt, your clit, where Gojo slaps them away.

"Hey, hey, no sabotage." If nothing else, Gojo does have sharp eyes.

He darts to the crest of your folds, right where Satoru's fingers had traced, opening his mouth over it.

At first he drools, taking in your scent. Those videos - the ones of your pet lookalike eating you out for hours, a hand in his hair like a leash.

Lapping, whining, drooling over you like a trained dog. Just the memory makes his dick throb. Mouth water.

Gojo spreads his mouth wide like he's seen, drawing his tongue over Satoru's plunging cock, up towards the swollen bud that seems to pulse against his teeth.

Careful, boy. Don't bite. The memory sends his hands clenching at your thighs as he devours you.

His mouth is so wet and warm it feels like it's melting over you, candle wax pressing hot into your clit as your walls stretch and stretch.

Dizzying. It's all so much, all heat swirling around you, inside you. Pleasure roils heavy, weighted, dragging you along in the surge of sensation.

He licks at your clit, all soft and perfect and it just swells like water against a dam, cresting to meet the tip of his tongue pressing into you-

"Shh, baby, not yet," Hands on your jaw, large, gentle, turning your head, "Look at me, hm?"

You do, helplessly, with a whimper, bucking into the mouth and the cock that have your insides churning.

Eyes. Pretty, pretty, the bluest eyes. "S-sa- ah - Satoru?" It comes out as a whimper, or maybe a plea, as you stare, enraptured.

He smiles and it's an instant reaction, a flutter in your chest that makes you squeeze around him.

Whatever he wanted to say is lost to a gasp, to the overwhelming embrace of your walls against him.

Satoru groans, and then he feels a wet, burning line trail up his dick as he pulls it out to drive into you again. Fuck, he's close.

"Lost all your endurance already, huh?" Gojo says, casually, mouth right next to Satoru's dick like he's having a fucking conversation with it. "Loser. It hasn't been long and you're about to bust a nut already."

And damn, he might be. There's something enrapturing about seeing his own face flushed and smug and nuzzling up to his cock like a hungry slut.

He clutches you like a living, breathing lifeline, nuzzles into your neck like it can protect him from the nasty whore's mean words.

"Didn't take long, did it? You lost all the patience she painstakingly trained into you as soon as you got the chance to stick it in whenever."

Satoru must have something in common with the dirty, filthy slut he was clone from, because those teasing words has his cock pulsing, heat building as he plunges back into the safe haven of your cunt.

Gojo watches from below, mouth gaping wide open over Satoru's cock as it drives in, out, in, out again. Breath hot over your clit, nudging it with his nose until you whine again.

Your eyes flick away from Satoru - and over to him - the same face.

You reach out a hand to pet his hair. Soft, fluffy; he rubs his head into your touch. Breath hot on where your bodies join.

"Hnnngh," His cock is straining, throbbing against the front of his pants; Gojo pulls away, lips still sticky.

Resting his head on your knee, he looks up at you - both of you - with big, wide eyes. A pout on his lip.

"Come oooon," He holds your leg, "Help a guy out, yeah?"

"You still haven't made her cum yet. Do you really wanna make it harder for yourself?"

His grin bares teeth. "Yup."

Somehow, though, he stares a moment too long into Gojo's eyes, into that flushed and fiendish face looking back up with him with barely contained need and hunger.

Satoru shifts your leg, "Come on, baby, like this-"

And soon he's groaning, his tall, lanky form jerking as your foot presses against the bulge in his pants. Satoru's foot guides yours down, down, where he grinds against it.

Gojo falls back into your joined sexes, moaning, panting, slobbering all over you both.

The original Satoru Gojo sure was a fucking whore. No wonder you were so anxious; this guy had no sense of shame, and probably no loyalty, either.

Your hands are still buried in his hair as he ravages your sex. It's so stimulating; the press of your foot down on his screaming erection, the salt of your slick on his tongue, the delicious friction of Satoru's dick pumping in and out - faster, now.

He widens his mouth to cover where his dick slides into you, sucking at the heated shaft as he purses his lips over your poor, tender bud.

"F-fuck," Your voice is broken in your throat, heart racing, it just feels so good, pleasure surging from your tightly wound core, "S-satoru-"

Satoru feels you clenching and squeezes for dear life, "Come on - you can hold - hold it-"

But the words escape him; as he, too, winces, choking on his own pleasure. Muscled abs clench behind you as he finally thrusts home, burying his face in your neck and biting down.

Liquid heat surges inside you and you wail; you feel yourself clamp down, waves of pleasure rushing in as you milk him.

Fingers dig into Gojo's hair and then the pressure on his dick increases. It's so fucking hard, swollen, pulsing against the force against it until it -

"Hnnngh," The sigh escapes him, ghosting over the burning, slick skin of your cunt and the dick embedded in it.

He mouths over it lazily. Tasting your shared cum as the afterglow bubbles through him.

You're glassy-eyed, panting; Gojo watches the mesmerizing rise and fall of your bared breasts. They're marked red, but he can't tell his handprints from Satoru's.

Fuck, you really are pretty. A vision, really, in this state.

Satoru behind you is no less so, all pink and flushed and lovestruck in the comedown. His eyes haven't left you for the last few minutes, but they dart towards Gojo has he slowly begins to recover. As brilliant and blue as his own.

He could almost get hard again just at the sight. If the stupid body double starts mouthing off again, he may anyways.

"That was totally me, by the way." Eh. Never mind.

When he looks up again, he sees your neck, bruised up where he'd sucked a mark earlier. It's darker, now. Heavier.

"You're crazy," He lays a hand on your thigh, shaking gently, "I was the one who got her off. Here, we'll even ask her."

"Mmm..." You stir, slumping back onto Satoru, whose arms wrap around your chest and tug you flush against him.

"Ignore him, baby," Satoru kisses up the other side of your neck, sucking a hickey or two as he goes, "You don't need that stupid prick."

"Lucky her," Gojo hums, "I'm here anyways. I didn't see you complaining either, when I had my mouth on you."

A kick of his foot - and Satoru discovers the bulge just underneath his foot had softened. When Gojo pulls away, there's a wet stain on the front of his pants. Satoru snorts.

"You seriously just got off to sucking us both off?"

"Like you wouldn't have gotten off to the same thing."

"Yeah, but only cause of her."

Discreetly, Gojo gives your leg another shake. Your straighten, slightly, and look over at him.

"Satoru?" Your voice is clearer, now, recognition lighting up in your eyes.

"A little familiar, but I guess I did have my mouth on your pussy just a couple minutes ago," He smiles that charming smile you love so much.

But the feeling of warmth, of security, the fine muscled form behind you, the soft hair against your cheek and the mouth that sucks and gnaws mindlessly at your neck; it's unmistakably your Satoru.

There's... only one other person it can be.

"Gojo?" You squint, and he laughs.

"Bingo!" He flops down on the couch, laying his head comfortably in your lap.

Satoru groans, half-heartedly shoving him away, but Gojo's already snuggling up to you.

You stare at Gojo silently, unblinking. He catches your gaze, smiling back, winking, even, despite your expression not changing.

"Aren't you... angry with me?" You say, slowly, as the pounding in your head recedes.

Gojo tilts his head to the side. "Why would I be angry? You weren't the one sending the videos?"

"What videos?" You frown, "And no, I mean... you know." You gesture to Satoru. "The clone."

"The videos of you and - the CLONE?!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #clone!gojo #x reader

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e1e4n0r5 · 19 hours ago

Text

Their Little Plaything: Bonus Scene 5

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue, Bonus Scene 1, Bonus Scene 2, Bonus Scene 3, Bonus Scene 4

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Former Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader

Words: 6589

Synopsis: The summer between Junior and Senior years doesn't go exactly as you'd planned

Warnings: ANGST!! Relationship insecurities, feelings of isolation, bullying, implied excessive alcohol use

Notes: This wasn't my fault! Someone suggested this a while ago and I wasn't planning on doing it because it's too heart-breaking but then my brain went 'do it' and I had to obey 😭

Summer between Junior and Senior Years

The air on campus buzzed with early summer heat and long goodbyes. Students were dragging overstuffed suitcases down the sidewalks, calling out promises to meet up over the summer break, hugging, laughing, and posing for last-day selfies.

Cait adjusted her bag on her shoulder and turned to Vi with a look that said don’t make a scene.

Vi, of course, was already making one. She had you pulled tightly against her chest, chin tucked over the top of your head, swaying the two of you back and forth with a grip that didn’t seem like it would never let go.

“Eight weeks,” Vi muttered into your hair. “Fuck it, you’re not going, you’re coming with us.”

“Vi-”

“Cait can refund your mom whatever she’s booked, you can’t go,” she begged.

“Vi-”

“How the fuck are we supposed to manage without you for two months!”

Cait spoke louder than you, calling firmly, “Violet.”

She sniffed, shaking her head. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got it. I’ve got it. It’s only eight weeks. That’s nothing. That’s just, like…Forty gym sessions. Without you. Fuck, I’m gonna be so buff by the time you see me.”

Vi finally let go, though her hand lingered around your waist, reluctant to fully let go.

You chuckled softly, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Cait stood close, watching the hug, arms folded lightly. She looked so poised, even now, dressed neatly for her family’s car service that was waiting by the curb. She was trying to keep it together. You were already upset, Vi’s neediness and clinginess was starting to come out…Someone had to be strong. But her eyes softened when you turned to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to drive you to the train station?”

“Cait, it’s almost an hour away, in the other direction. You’ve already got to drive three hours; don’t make it five. I’ll be fine, the campus bus’ll be here any minute.”

She nodded unhappily. She knew you were going home to be with your mother over summer – your mum had booked some non-refundable vacation spots months ago, as surprises for you, not knowing you were now in a relationship – but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss you.

Still, you’d come spend the last two weeks at the Kiramman summer estate with them (even though Cait’s parents didn’t yet know you were a throuple) but it was still going to be a long summer without each other.

“Have you got your ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Purse?”

“Yes.”

“Phone charger? Headphones, book for the journey?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

Cait nodded. “Text us when you get to the station.”

You smiled, trying to force down the tears. “Okay.”

“And when you arrive,” Cait said, stepping forward to cup your face in both hands. “And I expect full updates from you. Books read, meals eaten – with pictures! – outfits worn, exercises done. Photo collages of all the places you go with your mother.”

“Got it,” you whispered. “Everything. You’ll be sick of me.”

Vi’s hand twitched on your waist, resisting the urge to pull you back in. “You’ll be okay, right? You’ve got your mom, and…We’ll have video sex every night-”

You giggled, tears in your eyes. “Not when I’m sharing a room with mum on vacation.”

“Okay, secret titty pics in the shower will suffice for those days,” Vi joked.

“And we made the shared playlist, so we can think of each other when we’re apart…” Cait’s eyes started getting damp.

“Yeah,” you interrupted gently. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. Eight weeks. Two months.”

It felt like you were all saying it to reassure yourselves.

As they said their final goodbyes, Cait pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, and Vi bumped her forehead against yours, whispering, “Don’t forget us, baby.”

The campus shuttle bus arrived only a minute after their car pulled away. You queued with your suitcase, trying not to cry as you got on board, settling into a window seat, watching the campus slowly empty of students as they all went home for those glorious weeks between years.

It wasn’t until you put in your headphones and they didn’t automatically connect that you realised the worst had happened.

You hadn’t noticed at the time, but as you’d been scrambling to finish packing that morning, you’d accidentally knocked your phone off the bedside table, and under the bed. In the chaos to get out of the house on time, you hadn’t checked if it was in your bag.

Your lifeline – your only connection to the women you loved – was out of reach. And would be for eight weeks.

The train ride was torturous. Not only did you not have your music or any way to communicate with your girlfriends or your mother, but because you knew Cait and Vi would be worried sick. You hadn’t texted them when you’d arrived at the train station, you hadn’t texted once during the two-hour train ride, and you hadn’t let them know you’d arrived in your hometown. You knew they’d be going insane with worry!

But you tried to put it out of your mind; there was nothing you could do about your phone, and when you got back to your childhood home, you’d just think of another way to contact them. At least you still had your laptop.

You walked through the Arrivals area of the train station, looking out for your mum. You smiled wide when you saw her.

“There you are!” she called happily, running over and pulling you into her arms.

You hugged her back tightly, not wanting to let go. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed this; your mum’s shampoo, her perfume, the warmth of her voice, the way she held on like you might slip away.

“Hi, mum,” you choked against her shoulder, trying to hold back tears.

“Oh, I missed you so much, sweetheart!”

Sweetheart.

Your heart panged. Vi. She’d be so worried about you.

“I was texting you, you didn’t reply.”

You shook your head. “I forgot my phone in…My dorm,” you covered quickly.

“Oh, no. We’ll sort something out when we get home. We could always get you one of those ‘burnt’ phones?”

“A burner phone?” you teased.

“Oh, stop it. Come on, let’s get you home. And you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to!”

The house looked the same as ever: white paint peeling just a little more, flower boxes full of red geraniums struggling in the summer heat, wind chimes clinking softly in the breeze.

Inside, everything smelled like lemon polish and fresh laundry. You sank into the familiar cushions of the old sofa, curling your legs under you as your mum bustled about, making tea.

“You look tired,” your mum said, handing you a steaming mug and sitting beside you. “School been that rough?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. The semester ended okay. Just…A lot happened this year.”

“Girlfriend trouble?” Your mum raised an eyebrow and gave you that look – curious, patient, not pushing.

You traced the rim of your mug with your thumb. “Well…”

She grinned. “I knew it! I knew my baby had a girlfriend! Who is she, what’s her name?”

“Well…Um…”

“Oh…Oh, is it a boy?” she asked in surprise, like it were a secret.

That snapped you out of your hesitation. “No, no, definitely not a boy.”

“So, we’re still lesbian?”

You laughed. “Yes, mum, we are still a lesbian.”

“Well, spit it out then! Who is she?”

“Cait-”

“Cait! Awww, that’s such a nice name! Is she-?”

“-And Vi.”

Your mum paused, blinking. “Caitandvi? That’s her name? Where’s she from?”

“No, mum. Caitlyn and Violet. I have two girlfriends.”

She gasped your full name. “Are you cheating on those girls? Do they know about this?”

“No, mum, stop! I have two girlfriends. We’re all together. We’re in a three-person relationship. I have two girlfriends; Cait has two girlfriends; Vi has two girlfriends.”

You could almost see your mum’s brain rebooting. “Oh. Oh, I see! Is that the open relationship stuff?”

You shook your head. “No, not open. The three of us are together, no-one else. Closed unit.”

She finally nodded. “Okay, okay, got it. How long have you been together?”

You sipped your tea. “Since just before Christmas.”

She gasped. “And why haven’t you told me this before?”

You looked at her. “Mum, can you imagine trying to have the conversation we just had…Over the phone? When half the time you still face the camera the wrong way.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Alright, missy, settle down.” She was quiet for a beat. “Are they nice to you?”

You smiled a little, surprised by the question – and the emotion it stirred. “Yes. They make me feel safe. Loved. Seen.”

Your mum nodded slowly. “Then I’m happy for you, and I can’t wait to meet them. It’s not about the shape of the relationship. It’s about how it makes you feel.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, feeling so relieved at your mum’s acceptance and blessing. “They’re really different. Cait’s like…Precision and care. She was Class President this year, and she’s won again for next year too! And Vi’s all fire; she’s on the school football team. They balance each other, and somehow…I fit in there too.”

“They sound like good girls,” your mum said, sipping her tea.

Your eyes stung a little. “I miss them already. I can’t believe I dropped my phone at home and didn’t even notice! I haven’t been able to get in touch with them. They’re going to be so worried about me, or think I’m ignoring them!”

Your mum reached over, rubbing your shoulder gently. “They’ll be waiting for you. The ones who love you always are.”

The first few days at home weren’t terrible. Maddening. But not terrible. You’d spent the first evening trying to figure out how the hell you could contact either, or both, of them.

Your mum had offered to buy you a burner phone – but you didn’t know their numbers.

You’d considered email – but you didn’t have their email addresses.

You could see their social media accounts, but you couldn’t comment or message without an account.

You’d tried to get into your private account (that you only ever used to doomscroll and look at what Cait and Vi posted), but the platform wanted to send a verification code to your phone number – which you didn’t fucking have access to! You’d emailed the help desk, offering to answer any and all security questions – do anything they needed! – but they said there was nothing they could do without your phone.

You could write them a goddamn letter – except you didn’t know either of their families’ addresses, and the Kiramman summer estate was unlisted.

And this rate, you’d have to resort to smoke signals or carrier pigeons…You could just imagine trying to wrangle a bird, sticking a letter to its leg and telling it to go find Cait or Vi. That would only go well…

You unpacked slowly, folding your clothes into the drawers of your childhood bedroom, surrounded by posters you hadn’t bothered to take down when you left for college. Your mum made all your favourite meals, fussed over your hair, asked too many questions about your relationship. It was familiar. Safe.

But not the same.

You kept reaching for your phone, again and again, only to realize it wasn’t in your pocket. Wasn’t on the dresser. Wasn’t in your bag. It was nowhere.

Day by day, the silence stretched out longer. No Cait teasing you in the morning with perfectly timed sensual voice notes. No Vi sending blurry selfies from the grocery store with captions like do we need ten frozen pizzas?

Just…Nothing.

Your mum had surprised you with a disposable camera on day three.

“I know it’s not a fancy phone but you can still take pictures to show the girls! You’ll have to get them developed and printed, but that’s what we did back then,” she explained as she unpacked some groceries.

You examined the camera with a smile, eyeing the extra rolls of film she brought. “Thanks, mum. This is kinda cool. Retro.”

“Please do not describe anything from my youth as retro,” she scolded.

So you started taking photos. You hoped they were okay, you couldn’t see what you’d taken. Maybe everything would end up blurry, or your finger would be over the lens. You captured your outfits of the day – OOTD, as you’d learnt from Cait’s social media. Most of your meals, so Cait would know you’d eaten, even if she wasn’t getting live updates. The beach day you and your mum went on (obligatory secret titty pic for Vi, which then gave you a panic attack thinking of an employee at a photo shop who may end up seeing your boobs). An award-winning photo of your feet propped up on the porch swing, a book in your lap, the sunset in the distance, a gentle blur to the photo to give it that soft and romantic vibe.

The knowledge that the girls would see the photos in the future kept you going, even when you were cut off from them. It was a little thing to hold on to.

But by day ten the doubts began to creep in.

You’d been looking at their social media accounts over the days. Smiles, sun, cocktails by the pool, evening meals in restaurants Cait’s family paid for. Not one mention of you, or missing someone special. Nothing. Just them enjoying themselves.

Two carefree love-struck college girls, living their best summer life.

Maybe it was easier if they didn’t love you back.

Maybe it was better not to hope.

Maybe they’d gone back to Caitlyn’s estate, to her rich family and fancy silverware and acres of land, and realized how easy it would be to forget about you.

You began to wonder if you’d made it all up. If the love was temporary. Conditional. Something that had ended with the school year, like a class schedule or a lease agreement.

Without Cait or Vi checking in, holding you, reminding you that you were safe and wanted and real… You’d never felt so alone.

You walked past your old high school on your way to the grocery store, and it made your stomach twist. Your mind filled with all the horrible memories of your years there – the mocking, the tormenting, the horrific isolation.

The fluorescent lights in the grocery store buzzed quietly overhead. You hadn’t meant to linger, just grab milk for the two of you and leave. But your thoughts kept wandering – without a phone to distract you – to the feel Cait’s fingers tracing your hip, Vi’s laugh muffled into your neck, the smell of both of them next to you in bed.

“Oh my god, look who it is,” a voice drawled behind you.

You turned slowly, praying it wasn’t—

Heather Scott. The girl who played the prank on you in high school, outing you to the whole school, your humiliation published on social media for the world to see. Same perfect teeth, same overly tanned skin. She looked you up and down with a smirk that made you feel fifteen again.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back here,” Heather said, arms crossed. “You always acted like you were too good for this town. What happened, college not work out?”

You frowned. “It’s summer break, Heather.”

Her eyes scanned you. “You look the same. Bit skinnier. Still quiet, huh? Still lesbo?”

You wanted to disappear, but somehow you couldn’t move.

“Oh, come on. Not learnt how to take a joke yet? Bet you’re still the weird girl no-one wants to sit with.”

Your cheeks burned. “Actually, I’m not.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No? You finally got some friends at that fancy college?”

“I do, yeah. I’ve got a best friend-” Shit, you haven’t been able to talk to Powder, either!

She laughed. “Wow, that’s super impressive…”

“And two girlfriends.”

Heather blinked. “Two girlfriends? Now I know you’re making shit up.”

“Look them up: Caitlyn Kiramman and Violet Lanes,” you challenged, even though you hated every desperate word pouring out of your mouth. Why were you doing this? Why were you so desperate for this bitch’s approval? You’d stopped liking her the second she aided in your public humiliation, and that was years ago!

She just laughed to herself as she tapped away on her phone. After a few seconds, she paused, eyebrow lifting. “Blue hair, kinda tall?”

“Yeah! That’s Cait-”

“You’re seriously trying to tell me that these two,” she turned the phone around and showed you the latest photo on Cait’s profile – the two of them sitting in the shallow end of a pool, each with a drink in hand, kissing passionately, “Drop-dead gorgeous women are into you?”

Your heart twisted. “Yes-”

“No fucking way, Y/N. They are way too hot for you. They’re both off-the-scale hot, and you’re seriously like a three on a good day. And besides,” she scrolled back on Cait’s feed, shaking her head, “There’s no mention of you. No other girlfriend, they don’t say they miss anyone, they’re not looking forward to seeing anyone…”

Your heart twisted again. “I’ve asked them to keep me off social media-”

“Why, if you’re really together? Oh, because of that stupid prank years ago? You really think people from school will still pick on you for that? No-one gives a fuck about you anymore.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a fucking loser, Y/N. I bet you’ve made up this whole thing in your head, and these girls don’t even know you. Hey, let me check.” She tapped away on her phone, chewing her gum for a few seconds, and then laughed. “Ha! See!”

She turned the phone back around, showing you a private message screen between her and Cait.

Heather Scott: Y/N says hi

Caitlyn Kiramman: ??

Your lip trembled, your heart pounded.

No.

No, they wouldn’t.

Two question marks doesn’t explain anything! That could mean anything!

Then another message popped up:

Caitlyn Kiramman: Stay the fuck out of our business

* * * Ten days earlier * * *

“Do you think she’ll miss us?”

Vi lay on Cait’s chest in the back of her family’s car, a waterproof blanket beneath them and fluffy one tucked over their naked bodies. It was a three-hour drive to the Kiramman summer estate from college; they had perfected a routine, one they couldn’t wait to show you.

Vi held Cait tightly, as Cait stroked her fingers through her dark hair, lightly scratching her scalp.

“Of course she will.”

“Has she messaged?” she lifted her head a little of Cait’s chest, only to have her hand bring it back down.

She checked her phone screen, unable to hide her disappointment. “Nothing yet.”

“But it’s been two hours,” Vi protested.

“I know,” Cait soothed, “But she might have been in a rush at the station, or maybe her phone died on the train. She’ll let us know as soon as she can. Now, do you want another quick round, or a 30-minute nap before we have to make ourselves presentable?”

Vi growled playfully. “What do you think?”

The Kiramman summer estate was beautiful, quiet, and utterly suffocating. The white brick mansion sat surrounded by orange groves, miles from the nearest neighbouring mansion. Complete with a large pool and bar, terrace, home gym, games rooms, home cinema, and much more, it was the perfect place to escape city life for those precious few weeks of glorious summer weather.

Cait stood at the balcony of her bedroom, arms crossed, watching the distant lights of the city on the horizon. Her family’s staff had unpacked their things as they got settled with tea with her parents. The sheets were pressed, the pillows fluffed, and dinner had been served with ceremonial polish.

But it was missing something. Someone.

Vi tossed and turned behind her, huffing softly. “She hasn’t texted.”

“I know.”

“I know she can be forgetful, but she wouldn’t just disappear.” Vi sat up, bare arms tense, tattoos flexing with every anxious movement. “What if something happened to her?”

Cait turned. “Maybe her phone died, or maybe she’s just catching up with her mother. She’s been saying for weeks how much she’s missed her. She’ll reach out when she can.”

Vi ran her hands through her hair, agitated. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either,” Cait admitted gently. She crossed the room, sitting beside Vi. “But she knows how much we love her.”

Vi leaned forward, elbows on knees. “How can she not have texted back yet? She cried when we were 10 minutes late home last week!”

Cait smiled faintly, brushing Vi’s arm with her fingers. “Okay, to be fair to her: her period was really messing her up that day and she later admitted that she overreacted.” They both smiled softly. “She’ll come back to us, Violet. She always does.”

Cait’s mother, Cassandra, insisted they have tea on the terrace, dressed in light summer linens, surrounded by the expansive gardens filled with bright flowers and gleaming marble paths.

Vi barely touched her tea, her legs jostling under the table constantly.

When they returned to Cait’s room, Vi threw herself down onto the chaise, groaning.

“I’m losing my mind,” she said into a pillow.

Cait sat on the edge of the bed, undoing the clasp of her sandals. “It’s only been three days.”

“Exactly. And I already feel like I’m going to chew through the walls. Why hasn’t she messaged us back! Or even just read the messages!”

Cait looked over at her, walking over slowly. “Is this about missing her, or needing something else?”

Vi met her eyes. “Both.”

Cait’s expression softened.

Vi looked up at her, and for once her bravado cracked – she looked small. “She grounds me. I’m angry all the time and she just…Dissolves it.”

Cait kissed her forehead, then pushed her onto her back on the chaise with a hand on her throat. “Then let me help until she’s back.”

Vi pulled her hips close with a desperate sigh. “You better. I’m losing it here.”

They always shared Cait’s bed at the summer home – the Kiramman parents weren’t naïve enough to imagine that the girls would sleep separately. It was soft and plush, a wonderful bed by all accounts. But neither Cait nor Vi had slept well since they arrived.

“Cait,” Vi whispered desperately on the fourth night, “Touch me.”

Cait turned, stroking her hand down Vi’s side. “You’re trembling.”

“I just…I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I know.”

Vi pressed into her, mouth at Cait’s collarbone. “You have to take it. All of it. Please. I can’t be gentle.”

Cait allowed Vi to roll her over in a practiced, effortless shift of movement. “Then don’t be. Let it out. You know I can take it.”

Vi’s fingers clawed at her, and Cait kissed her like a balm. Steady, grounding, there. There was no teasing. No slow build. Just desperate hunger, and the two of them trying to chase something that didn’t feel whole without their third.

Afterwards, Vi broke down a little, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. Cait pulled her close, combing through her hair as they lay in the dark.

“We’re gonna be okay,” she whispered.

“Not until she’s home.”

Cait stared at her phone, brows drawn.

“She still hasn’t read any messages,” she said, sitting on the lounger by the pool, clad in her favourite bikini.

Vi paced the patio like a trapped tiger. “She always answers. Even if it’s just a heart. Even if she’s in class.” She groaned, squeezing the back of her neck. “I knew something felt off. Something’s happened.”

Cait raised a hand. “Let’s not panic. It could be something small. Broken phone, tech issue...” But even as she spoke, she didn’t believe it.

Vi paused, hands clenching and unclenching. “What if it’s not?”

Cait shook her head powerlessly. “Well, she hasn’t blocked either of us, and she hasn’t left our group chat. So, we’re not dumped yet. Plus, imagine how she must be feeling – at least we’re together; she doesn’t have either of us, she’s on her own.”

They both sat in silence for a moment.

“I just…” Vi started, then stopped. Her voice cracked slightly. “I just miss her so bad, Cait. And I feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t, because I’m with you and I love you – I love you so fucking much – but it’s like...Half of me’s gone.”

Cait took her hand and pulled her down to sit next to her on the lounger. She wrapped her arm around Vi’s waist, leaning into her chest.

“You’re allowed to miss her,” Cait whispered. “I miss her too. Every time I wake up and she’s not wedged between us like our little space heater, I miss her all over again. Every time I send her a text and see it sitting there, unread. You’re not alone in that.”

Vi buried her face in Cait’s shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d fall this hard. For both of you. But I did. And now it feels like she’s just…Gone.”

Cait pulled back just enough to cup her face. “She’s not gone. She loves us. We’ll figure out what’s going on soon, and then we’ll laugh about how panicked and stressed we were.”

Vi nodded slowly, clinging to the hope in Cait’s voice.

Vi barely made it halfway through breakfast.

The Kirammans had insisted they join the morning meal on the terrace again – polished silverware, crystal glasses, and political small talk.

Vi pushed her food around her plate – having drunk too much the night before – and gave clipped, muttered responses. Her hand twitched toward her pocket every few minutes, checking her phone again and again for a message she knew wouldn’t be there.

When her fork clattered too loudly against the porcelain, Cait’s mother looked at her in concern. Vi muttered an apology and stood.

“I’ll go check on her,” Cait said smoothly, folding her napkin and excusing herself to follow before Cassandra could ask what on Runeterra was going on with the two of them.

She found Vi standing beneath the covered walkway, staring out at the fountain like she wanted to punch it.

“She’s still not answered,” Vi said when Cait came up beside her.

“She still hasn’t blocked us, though. That’s something.”

Vi huffed, tugging at her hair. “You don’t get it.”

“I miss her too, Vi,” Cait replied defensively.

“No, Cait, I need her. I wake up thinking about her, I can’t sleep without her breathing next to me. You’re my rock, you always have been, but Y/N…She’s like breathing now.”

Cait didn’t speak. She only reached out, gently curling her hand around Vi’s, pulling her forehead to rest against hers

“I don’t know how to calm down without her. I need her here. I need her safe. I can’t do another seven weeks of this, Cupcake,” she wept.

“We’ll help each other,” Cait said. “And when we get back, we’ll remind her how much she matters to us. Every day.”

They didn’t speak much that morning. Vi was up first, pacing the length of their bedroom like a caged animal. She needed to fucking destroy something. Cait stayed in bed longer than she normally would, her arm curled around your pillow, which Vi had insisted they bring, despite Cait’s protests that it was ‘a little much.’ Both women were grateful for it now.

She buried her face in it, inhaling your scent, and when Vi looked back over to check on her, Cait didn’t lift her head.

“Hey.” Vi knelt beside the bed. “You alright?”

“I thought I’d be stronger than this,” Cait admitted. “I thought if anyone would hold us together, it’d be me.”

Vi’s heart ached seeing her like this, neat hair loose, voice small.

“We both suck at this,” Vi said, crawling into bed beside her and pulling Cait against her chest.

“I want to be with her. I want to wake up with her. I want her curled up on the couch reading while you and I bicker about what to make for dinner.”

Vi smiled softly. “I miss those dumb slippers. The ones with the ears. I always said they weren’t cute. But now I realise how fucking adorable they are.”

“I miss her humming while she brushes her teeth.”

Vi leaned her forehead against Cait’s. “We’re so gay.”

Cait laughed for the first time in days.

By the eight day, something had changed.

Cait had retreated into a cold silence. She read books, scrolled on her phone, posted pool pics like nothing was wrong. But Vi saw through it – the coolness that was a mask for something fraying underneath.

That afternoon in their room, Cait pulled out her laptop and scrolled through photos, silent.

“She’s in every one,” she said softly.

Vi came to lie beside her on her front, looking at the black-and-white photo on the screen.

You were in a towel, hair wet and smiling shyly as Cait took the picture.

“We made her feel safe,” Cait said. “And now she’s gone home, without us. To that place that was never safe for her.”

Vi swallowed. “We’re gonna bring her back. We have to. She’s probably scared. Or lonely. Or convinced we’ve forgotten her.” She gritted her teeth. “Why can’t we just say we miss her in a post?”

Cait shook her head softly. “She asked us to keep her off social media. We made a promise, Vi. We can’t break her trust just because we miss her.”

Vi teared up a little. “But if she’s watching our feeds, she’d see it.” Her throat started burning and she had to swallow thickly. “She’s hurting somewhere, I know it. And we can’t do anything about it.”

“We will,” Cait said. “As soon as we get home.”

“In seven weeks,” Vi almost sobbed into the comforter.

Taking a break from the pool, Cait and Vi were in the pool’s private kitchen getting some cold drinks. Cait sat on a stool at the bar, Vi rifling through the glass bottles on top.

Cait looked up. “Vi…,” she said softly, a small shake of her head.

The dark-haired girl sighed, hanging her head. With annoyed acceptance, she pulled out a pitcher of fruity mocktails from the fridge, pouring two glasses.

“Day ten,” she said, voice flat.

Cait replied quietly, “I know,” staring at her dark phone screen. Waiting for message. Anything.

Vi braced her arms on the counter. “What if she thinks we’ve moved on? What if…What if her mom said something? Or some dipshit from town?”

“We don’t know that. But we know her. We know how much she loves us.” It had become a mantra for them both during their stay.

“Then why hasn’t she tried to message? Not even a fucking email?”

“Violet, she doesn’t know our emails,” Cait reminded delicately. “She doesn’t have our numbers memorised. Who does, these days?”

Vi looked up, red-rimmed eyes meeting Cait’s. “I feel like I’m falling apart. And I’m with you. That should be enough, right? But it’s not. And I hate that.”

“Vi. You don’t have to choose between me and her. Missing her doesn’t mean you love me less.”

Out of nowhere, Cait’s phone pinged. She grabbed for it frantically, almost dropping it in the process.

1 message from [Unknown Contact]

It was you! It had to be! You found a way to make an account!

Cait’s face lit up…And then dropped.

“Who the fuck is Heather Scott?” Vi demanded, reading over Cait’s shoulder.

“And why is she with Y/N?”

Cait typed back ‘??’, dreading the response she would get. “I don’t think Y/N has ever mentioned-”

Vi’s head shot up. “She’s that bitch!” she shouted, accidentally too close to Cait’s ear.

“Ow, Vi!”

“She’s that bitch that pretended to like Y/N in high school and then posted her online! Heather Scott!” she slammed her hand down on the marble top in rage.

Cait glared back at her phone, fury rising within her.

‘Stay the fuck out of our business’

She had to stop herself throwing her phone down, putting her head in her hands, rubbing her scalp to try and calm down.

“I want to go home,” Vi said firmly. “Now. We’ll go home, and we’ll find a way to get to Y/N from there. I don’t give a fuck if we have to drive to her town and scream her name out the car window. She’s not safe there.”

Cait nodded. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

The front door creaked as Cait eased it open. The house was still. Dim with the blinds half-drawn, stale with the scent of summer heat. Vi followed behind her, suitcase thunking softly against the floor as she put it down, exhausted from the journey. Three-hours was a long way to sit in tense silence.

Faintly, from upstairs, they heard sniffles.

“Y/N?” Cait called gently, looking towards the staircase, her heart in her chest.

Silence.

Then more sniffles, a weak cough.

Vi ran ahead, heart pounding. What if you were hurt? How long had you been there? What if you’d broken your legs, or your back?! What if you needed a fucking ambulance because you were dying?! Cait heard her footsteps along the hallway upstairs, and then—

“Cait,” Vi’s voice cracked, “She’s here.”

Cait dropped her own bag and rushed toward the bedroom. God, what would she find? The door was open, Vi in the doorway.

You knelt on the floor by the bed, a chaotic assortment of your things on the floor around you, a suitcase open in front of you as you shoved things in, uncaring for the state of your clothes. Your phone lay on the comforter, charging by the cable, the battery image flashing red.

“Y/N?” Cait called gently, not wanting to overwhelm you, even as she longed to pull you into her arms. Her soft tone just earned more sniffles and a miserable hiccup. “Sweetheart, did your phone die? Is that why you didn’t reply to us?”

You groaned loudly, coughing as you cried.

Why was she being nice to you!

Your eyes were red, as though you’d not stopped crying for hours. You were crying – sobbing your fucking heart out – as you kept stuffing your items into the suitcase, purposefully not looking at the two girls.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

She ran over and dropped to her knees in front of you. “Baby. No. No, no, no. What are you doing? Talk to us, baby.”

You looked up slowly. Your voice was hoarse. “I lost my phone on the first day, and I didn’t hear from you, and I couldn’t contact you,” sob, cough, “and I thought…You were just faking before. And I made it all up in my head. I couldn’t-,” cough, “I didn’t have any photos to prove to myself it was real.”

Vi let out a sound that was more of a howl than anything else and pulling you into her lap, arms wrapped tightly around you, like she was afraid you might disappear. You were too upset, too weak, to even wrap your arms around her in return.

“You didn’t make it up,” Cait said gently, stepping into the room. She looked shaken too, but her voice was steady. She came over to kneel next you, her hand gently but firmly stroking your back. “We’ve been messaging you every day. We thought you wanted space, or you were having so much fun with your mother. Vi was tearing her hair out.”

“I was going to leave,” you confessed. “I didn’t want to come back here, and you both pretend it never happened.”

Vi pulled back, cupping your cheek. “Don’t say that. We’ve been counting down the days to see you again. We missed you. We fucking missed you, sweetheart.”

“I thought I wasn’t enough,” you said. “Not enough to miss. Not enough to matter.”

Cait leant forward, kissing your shoulder. “You are the most important part of us. We love you so much, sweetheart. You belong here. With us.”

Your jaw trembled. “But Heather Scott-”

Vi growled. “Fuck that bitch and anything she said to you.”

“I don’t want to be apart again,” you whispered.

“Then don’t be,” Cait said. “Move in with us, officially.”

Vi nodded fiercely, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re already here all the time anyway. You can choose new bedsheets, we’ll redecorate whatever you want!”

Your lower lip trembled and then you sobbed even harder.

“I missed you both so much,” you breathed.

“We’re home now,” Cait said. “And so are you.”

They didn’t unpack. They didn’t talk about what they’d missed or try to explain the ache in their chests in any eloquent way. They just held you close.

You lay together in bed, your head nestled on Cait’s chest. Vi had curled around your back, arm slung tight over your waist. Cait had her phone in a holder over your heads, talking you through all the photos and videos they’d taken in the first few days when they could, somewhat, function. Their voices soothed you, but you weren’t truly listening. You just needed them there. And they knew that; they’d tell you everything again when you all felt better. The familiar scent of the house, the softness of clean sheets, and the presence of the women you loved wrapped around you like a blanket.

“I didn’t realize how quiet it would be without you,” Cait murmured into your hair.

Vi gave a soft grunt. “I was tearing through the garden like a maniac.”

“I slept in my mum’s room a few times,” you whispered. “I felt twelve again.”

Neither Cait nor Vi said anything for a long time. They just held you tighter.

Your voice was muffled when you continued. “I ran into Heather. The girl who played that prank on me. She asked if I was still weird and lonely, and I immediately started trying to prove myself to her. Like, ‘I’m cool now, I have two girlfriends!’”

Vi lifted her head slightly, about to speak – probably something brash and full of fire – but Cait gently touched her arm.

“We’re proud of you,” Cait said quietly. “That you stood up for yourself.”

You shook your head sadly. “Wasn’t much ‘standing up’. I cracked the second she was mean to me, about us.”

Vi sighed and kissed the back of your shoulder instead. “We’re going to remind you every day that you’re not that girl anymore. And even if you were, you’d still be ours.”

You sniffled. “I thought maybe I’d made it all up. You two, this house, everything. It felt too good to be true.”

Vi kissed the edge of your jaw. “No way. You’re the best part of it.”

Cait adjusted slightly to press a kiss to your forehead. “You ground us, darling. We fell apart when you were gone.”

You lay like that for a long while, tangled in warm limbs and whispered promises, the kind too soft and slow for the daytime.

Eventually, Cait reached for a remote and turned on the soft glow of the fairy lights they’d strung up before summer – your idea to give your photos and videos some mood lighting. The room filled with a delicate pink warmth.

“Let’s stay like this,” she said. “No expectations. Just us.”

Outside, the evening deepened. Inside, they breathed as one.

Safe. Together. Home.

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @beggingonmykneesforher, @qlelwow, @loneliestafterparty, @flowersareup

#their little plaything #arcane #vi arcane #arcane vi x reader #arcane violet #vi x reader #arcane au #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #caitvi x reader

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ballsandbabes · 2 days ago

Text

Boyfriend Headcanons with Karasuno, Ushijima and Oikawa

authors note: y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

pairing: Tobio Kageyama, Daichi Sawamura, Hinata Shōyō, Yū Nishinoya, Ryūnosuke Tanaka, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oikawa Tōru x fem!reader

summary: What I think, the boys would be like as boyfriends

genre: romance, fluff

🏐 Tobio Kageyama

He’s awkward at first and doesn't quite know how to express affection—but he tries so hard, and that effort makes him incredibly endearing.

You’re the only one who gets to see his soft, clumsy smiles.

He will absolutely help you reach your goals and gets genuinely excited about your progress, even if he’s not good at showing it verbally.

He makes you milk with honey when you're sad or sick. He says it helps because "milk is good for you."

Gets jealous but tries to hide it—poorly. He’ll sulk until you reassure him.

Training dates. Lots of them. You’ll be in peak shape.

Is your biggest fan and so proud of you.

Is the first to ask if you want his jersey when you accompany him to a game. I'm really happy inside when you say yes.

🏐 Daichi Sawamura

TOTAL boyfriend material. Protective without being overbearing. He gives you so much emotional security.

So incredibly GOOD at communication.

Loves going on morning jogs with you, then making breakfast together.

At first you didn't like it that much because you weren't as fit as him. But then you got better and Daichi trained with you slowly.

You’re his priority. He'll drop everything if you need him.

The kind of guy who remembers your coffee order, your pet peeves, and the stories you told him months ago.

He's lowkey really romantic, writing you little notes or texting you affirmations when he knows you're having a rough day.

Forehead kisses? Always.

Very into PDA. Not too much, but there's always an arm around your waist or he's taking you in his arms.

🏐 Shōyō Hinata

A literal ray of sunshine. Being with him is like dating joy personified.

He makes every day feel exciting, even if you’re just grocery shopping.

Loves handholding, piggyback rides, and selfies.

Tries to learn your hobbies so you can do them together (even if he sucks at them).

Since he is very hyper, sometimes it can be too much. He is very happy when you tell him that you should probably do something quieter.

Since he is very hyper, sometimes it can be too much. He is very happy to be reminded, when you tell him that you should probably do something quieter.

Tells everyone about you. His teammates, his mom, strangers—“Did I tell you about my girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? They’re the BEST.”

Will literally run to you when you need him.

🏐 Yū Nishinoya

Passionate, loud, and full of love. You're his whole world.

Constantly hypes you up like you’re a celebrity. "LOOK AT THEM. PERFECTION."

Makes up songs about you. In public.

Very into physical touch. Bear hugs, dramatic dips, tackling you onto the couch for cuddles.

Extremely loyal. Once he's committed, he's all in.

Spontaneous adventures are his love language—midnight beach trips, late-night karaoke, you name it.

Yes, he is very funny and extroverted, but he can also be serious. almost dominant. You live this hidden, more private side. He is very multifaceted and you love discovering every side of him.

Sometimes he has insecurities if you two are different heights. But you always tell him that he is good the way he is and that his wonderful personality makes up for the lack of size.

He loves it when you ruffle his hair when you both watch volleyball matches on TV. Btw, public viewing dates during big competitions are totally your thing.

🏐 Ryūnosuke Tanaka

The “scary guy with a heart of gold” boyfriend.

Treats you like royalty. Will physically square up with anyone who disrespects you.

Super into matching accessories. You have couple keychains, bracelets, maybe even hoodies.

Loves teasing you but melts when you do it back.

Protective to a fault, but it's sweet. Like walking you home, carrying your heavy stuff, glaring at anyone who looks at you funny.

Calls you every cute nickname in the book. “Babe,” “Darling,” “Angel-face.”

🏐 Tsukishima Kei

Sarcastic and emotionally reserved, but deeply loyal once you get past his walls.

Shows love through small, thoughtful actions—bringing you snacks, remembering your schedule, giving you his scarf when it’s cold.

Doesn’t say “I love you” often, but when he does, it means everything.

Will make fun of you, but in a way that makes you laugh, not cry.

Secretly loves cuddling while listening to music, especially if you let him rest his head on your shoulder.

Thinks you’re the only person who truly “gets” him, and he’ll quietly treasure that forever.

🏐 Yamaguchi Tadashi

Absolute sweetheart. Anxious, yes, but also incredibly caring and emotionally intelligent.

He writes you sweet messages when he’s too shy to say them out loud.

Constantly asks if you’re okay, if you’re happy, if there’s anything you need.

Brings you little gifts—tea, your favorite candy, random trinkets that reminded him of you.

Loves quiet dates: reading together, sketching, stargazing.

He’s your biggest cheerleader and gets visibly proud when you succeed.

🏐 Ushijima Wakatoshi

Surprisingly gentle and attentive despite his intense presence.

He listens intently, like every word you say matters.

Not into PDA but very affectionate in private—he’ll hold you like he never wants to let go.

His love language is acts of service—carrying your bags, cooking for you, fixing things around your place.

Sends you “are you eating properly?” texts at the most random times.

Will always be honest with you—even if it’s blunt. But he respects and values your opinions just as much.

🏐 Oikawa Tōru

At first, he's all charm and flirtation, but once he's serious about you, he’s deeply devoted.

He has insecurities and might need extra reassurance—but he gives it back tenfold.

Sends long good morning and good night texts, filled with emojis and affection.

Takes you on fancy dates and lazy couch days. Loves both equally if it’s with you.

Shows you off to everyone. “Can you believe someone this amazing is dating me?”

When he loves, he loves big. The kind of love that writes songs, memorizes your quirks, and plans your future together.

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shaunasrabbit · 2 days ago

Text

Eyes on the Prize | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI. Part V.

Summary: You play a road trip game with Joel.

Tags: No use of y/n, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, some physical descriptions (has a bush because #bushnation, has hair that can be pulled, and is curvy if you squint), age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his 50s), bratty reader and mean!Joel, dom!Joel, verbal degradation, some pussy smacking, spit, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, use of good girl and other pet names, fingering, m!masturbation (Joel jerkin' it), spit, finger sucking, hair pulling, cum eating, like sort of edging but not really, distracted driving (drive safe, y'all). If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~4.2K

Read on AO3

A/N: I'll be traveling for work this next week, but I wanted to get something out before I'm super busy. This chapter is on the shorter side and mainly smut, so it kind of feels like filler, but I hope you enjoy! Lightly proofread this myself, so my apologies for any typos. All on me. As always, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated and feedback is welcome. Thank you for reading! Divider by @/saradika-graphics

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

“Jesus, where d’ya learn to drive?” Joel mumbles, gripping the grab handle like he’ll somehow fly out of the car if he lets go.

“I didn’t really learn how to drive,” you snap, “and it’s not my fucking fault that no one’s filling in the potholes during the apocalypse.”

You roll your eyes and try to ignore the way your face feels hot under Joel’s gaze, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel. In the last hour and a half, you’ve only hit two potholes and considering the state of the roads, that’s a feat.

It’s surprising that Joel is even letting you drive. When he said you’d be borrowing a truck from Bill and Frank, you were sure that he’d be the one behind the wheel the entire time, but after a solid two hours on the road, he let you take over, still exhausted from fucking you last night. You’re tired too, obviously, blinking away any exhaustion that tries to settle within you, but you’re not going to complain. Knowing Joel, he’d say something like I guess I won’t fuck you anymore ‘cause ya clearly can’t handle it.

Thinking about Joel fucking you is a mistake. Distracted from your daydreaming, you hit another pothole and your heads nearly smack into the ceiling.

“Don’t even—”

“Are you even paying attention?” Joel cuts you off with his question. It’s rhetorical, but you start thinking of a snarky comment. “Gonna pop a fucking tire.”

“Joel,” you begin, tone venomous. When he shoots you a sharp look that you catch from your periphery, you bite your tongue. With an annoyed huff, you ask, “How much longer?”

“Couple’a hours,” he responds, pulling out the map and tracing a line from Lincoln to Lake George. “D’ya think you can manage not to kill us?”

“Stop talking to me.”

“Gladly,” he murmurs, turning his head to look out the window. He reminds you of an angsty teen and you bite back a smile.

Over breakfast, Joel informed you of your plan. The two of you would head up to Lake George, a roughly a three hour drive if you were able to take the highways, but it would take you longer if you were avoiding infected, raiders, or other smugglers. You’d be trading with some people that Joel met when they were still in the QZ. He said he trusts them enough and if Joel trusts them, so do you.

Bill and Frank need welded cage wire to secure the perimeter of their safe haven and a few other things, so they’re sending you with a hand crank radio, ammunition, and guns. Joel hasn’t told you what you’re getting out of it, but again, you trust him. At this point, the two of you are hours from the QZ and have to rely on each other for survival, so you don’t really have a choice. If Joel says it’s a good deal, then it’s a good deal. You’ll have to take his word for it.

Are you nervous about the journey? Of course. It’s indubitably dangerous and honestly, a little stupid, but again, what else are you to do?

The silence feels oppressive as Joel stares straight ahead, eyes glued to the busted concrete terrain in front of you. Reaching over, you grab a cassette from the holder in the center console. You’re trying not to hit potholes, so you don’t really look at your selection before popping it in the tape deck. Turning up the volume, you feel your breath catch in your throat when Johnny Cash starts to play.

“Good pick,” Joel mumbles.

“Sure is, cowboy,” you say teasingly, glancing at Joel as he shoots you a dirty look, eyes narrowed. His lips twitch into what resembles a smile.

Then it’s just you two and the music.

I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rolling ‘round the bend.

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when.

You can practically hear your father’s voice from afar, like he’s still in the kitchen singing and making breakfast. You can almost smell the bacon and taste the eggs, your dad appearing in the doorway, juggling plates. Sunny side up, he’d say. Just how you like ‘em, so you can dip your toast in the yolks. The music drags you back in time.

The tapping of Joel’s foot from the passenger side snatches you from your memory and you feel grateful for the interruption. You let the whole tape play before pulling it out. As you’re retrieving from the deck, ready to toss it back in the console, your hand on the steering wheel follows your turned head and you nearly drive off of the road.

“I know,” you blurt out before Joel gets the chance to speak. “I’m a shit driver.”

“Not necessarily a bad driver, just a distracted one,” he says.

“That was almost a compliment, so thanks, but also, I’m not…that easily distracted,” you defend yourself, eyes trained on the open road.

Joel lifts a brow, looking at you with amusement etched on his face. Glancing over at him quickly before looking at the road again, you furrow your brows. Whatever’s going on in his head makes you uneasy. You think about saying something, breaking the silence, but a firm, heavy hand lands on your thigh. His thumb traces lazily circles over your jeans. You sigh softly, quietly hating yourself for the way your clit is already throbbing.

“Not that easily distracted, huh?” he teases, voice low and dark. You recognize the tone well. You heard it last night when he snuck into your room.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the p.

Eyes glued to the road, you control your breathing as Joel’s hand snakes up your leg. Nearly brushing your clothed center with his thumb, he moves his hand to the valley where your thighs meet. Unconsciously, you part your legs for him and he chuckles.

“Y’wanna test it? Play a little game to see if you’re right?” Joel asks, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.

You run your tongue along your top teeth, sucking them and shaking your head. Whatever he has in mind is a bad idea, you know that, but he has a way of making you think with your pussy and not your head. The weight of his hand on your thigh alone feels intoxicating and each time he strokes your plush skin with his thumb, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to giving in.

When Joel’s fingers make light contact with your clit through your jeans, you shudder slightly and your breath hitches. Joel hums next to you, satisfied with himself, and cups your mound before smacking your pussy. You hold in a whimper, biting your bottom lip.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I think she wants to play with me.” Joel’s voice is syrupy, dripping with lust. It shoots right to your core. “Bet she’s already real wet for me.”

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You glance over at Joel and his eyes look impossibly dark. He rubs your clit through your jeans and you know it’s over. You’re going to give in. “What do I get when I win?”

“Don’t go gettin’ ahead of yourself. Let’s just see if you can be a good girl for me.”

“Joel, I’m not doing shit for you unless you tell me what I’m getting out of it.”

A sharp blow lands on your pussy and you yelp, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that it makes your palms ache.

“Not off to a good start,” he says, moving his hand away from your pussy. He fumbles with the button of your jeans and the zipper; the angle is awkward and you get a kick out of watching Joel struggle. He’s usually so smooth. Once he gets it, he taps your leg and instructs, “Lift.”

You shoot him a sideways glance, trying not to take your eyes off the road for too long, but you do it, lifting your hips so Joel can slide your jeans down. Almost immediately, you fuck up and press the gas way too hard, the truck jolting forward. Joel puts a hand on your lower belly as if he were your seatbelt.

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t say anything, but you’re still holding your breath. Heat creeps across your face as you think about how ridiculous you must look sitting in the driver’s seat with your jeans down just past your knees, soaked underwear still on. Joel’s gaze weighs on you, his eyes dragging up and down your body, taking all of you in. He unbuckles his seatbelt to move closer to you. Brave move all things considered, you think.

“Knew she’d be fuckin’ soaked,” Joel growls, running two thick fingers up and down the center of your panties. He leans forward to get a better look at the wet spot that’s formed. “Look how bad she wants me.”

You inhale sharply, knowing damn well that if you were to look down at the mess between your legs, you’d swerve off the road. Instead, you focus on what’s in front of you. Your hand gripping the wheel, the sun tucking itself behind the trees, the broken concrete.

“I have to focus, remember?” you lilt.

Joel doesn’t respond with words, no. He just shoves two fingers inside of you without moving your panties, pushing the fabric into your leaking slit. With the barrier preventing him from going deep, it’s not enough to make you feel satisfied, but you let out a whimper as if you’re telling him more, more, more. You fight the urge to close your eyes, something you normally would do to focus on the feeling of Joel. If there’s anything that rivals Joel’s touch, it’s the satisfaction of winning.

When he pulls his fingers out of you, he moves to your clit, rubbing precise circles on your swollen bud. The pressure is perfect and you whine, pushing your hips into Joel’s touch while also doing your best to stay in line. Although it’s not like it matters. No one else is, thankfully, on the road. You’d have bigger problems than your bad driving.

Joel picks up the pace, massaging your clit and rolling it between his fingers. You’re nearly panting at this point and very much struggling to drive well, but you manage to focus on avoiding potholes and debris.

“Doin’ so well for me. I’m sorta surprised,” he rasps. Joel hits your cunt once—hard—and you whine. “Usually so fuckin’ brainless when I’m touchin’ you.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you mumble under your breath between moans. “Maybe I should drive us off the road.”

“But then you wouldn’t be able to come and this whore of a cunt is makin’ a mess of your pretty panties,” he says, his voice drenched in condescension as he pulls the waistband of your underwear, letting it go and snap back into place. “I think ya need it.”

You hold back a strangled whine at his filthy words and you catch a glimpse of a smug smirk on his face, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you.

“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me how bad you wanna come.”

Shaking your head, you clench your jaw and clutch the steering wheel like it’s the last thing tethering you to earth. You do want to come. You want to completely ruin your panties. You want to moan and whine so Joel tells you how pretty you sound. You want him to call you a good girl. Every time you give in, you think you might hate him, but you love it. You can’t get enough of Joel Miller and his stupid, dirty mouth.

Joel pulls his hand off of your pussy and leans back in his seat. Your eyes go wide as you turn your head to look at him, abandoning the road in front of you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as desperate as you feel.

He shrugs and stares straight ahead. “Not going to touch you ‘til you say it.”

You look out the windshield once again, reminding yourself that you are, in fact, in control of a vehicle that weighs a few thousand pounds. Plus, you want to win. You want to come, badly, but you also want to win. You can do both, right? It’ll mean admitting it, saying what he wants to hear. What he already knows.

“I want to come,” you mutter and it’s barely audible.

“What was that, sweetheart? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Joel,” you say with a groan and an eye roll, “I want to come. Okay? I want to come, so make me come.”

“D’you think you’re in charge?” he snaps, turning to look at you again. You, sitting there exposed, with your pants down and wet underwear. “Think you can make demands? I don’t have to make you come.”

“I know, but you want to and fuck, I did what you asked.”

“So damn bratty when you’re not getting what you want,” he grumbles.

You do your best to bite back a smile, noticing that he didn’t deny that he wants to make you come. Knowing Joel Miller wants you as bad as you want him makes you shift in your seat in an attempt to quell the ache between your legs.

“Please, Joel,” you say softly. “I want you to make me come.”

Joel sighs, like it’s an inconvenience to touch you, but he leans over, spreading your thighs further apart with force; the movement nearly makes your foot slide off the gas pedal. With two fingers, he moves your panties to the side and holds them open, finally making contact with your bare cunt as he dips a finger inside of you. It’s shallow and quick, but enough to make you sigh in pleasure. Now that he’s gathered your slick, he circles your pulsing clit.

“Oh my god,” you whine as he speeds up. Joel knows your body so well, knows exactly what to do to make your legs tremble. “F-Fuck, thank you.”

Humming in response, he keeps the pressure and pace steady. You can feel your orgasm building low in your belly, your legs shaking as you try to maintain a consistent speed while also avoiding potholes. Driving has never been harder and you sort of hate him for this, but you really can’t when he’s making you feel so damn good.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel’s free hand move and you turn your head fully to look over. Joel’s palming his hard cock through his jeans, the fabric straining against his bulge. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, wet and wanting, and all he can hear is your panting that’s interrupted by moans. He doesn’t even notice that you’re staring at him, eyes completely neglecting the road, until you mumble a holy shit under your breath.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me,” he practically barks, slapping your clit which only heightens your pleasure. “Eyes on the damn road.”

The gruffness of his voice spurs you on and you’re about to tumble over the edge. Your orgasm is so close that your breathing is uneven. Still, you manage to goad him on with your eyes trained on his hand that gropes his own cock.

“Or what?” you ask, your voice sing-songy and dripping with lust.

You’re about to come when Joel snatches his hand away and grabs your jaw, ripping your eyes away from him and forcing you to look forward. He completely ruins your orgasm.

“Or I won’t fuckin’ touch you. Use your damn head,” he growls.

“I was so close, Joel,” you complain, shifting in your seat like it’ll give you any sort of relief. You realize you sound like a petulant child as you whine, but you can’t seem to give a fuck, so desperate to come.

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” you mumble, knowing that if you don’t take the blame he’ll let you sit in your frustration.

Joel nods and hums in acknowledgement. You’re staring straight ahead, not daring to look at him, when you hear him unbutton and unzip his jeans. Flicking your eyes over ever so slightly so he doesn’t see, you catch a glimpse at his hard dick that’s been freed from his boxers. He begins stroking himself and your chest tightens with desire, your lips parting instinctively. You could drool just thinking about the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“Now I wanna hear you beg for it, baby. Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me how bad ya want it,” he rasps.

Part of you wants to fight him on it, but you need to come so bad you can’t even bring yourself to argue.

“Please, Joel,” you say, wiggling in your seat, “I’m sorry. I-I was…I was a bad girl.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to call yourself a bad girl because you know Joel is never going to let it go, but you try not to kick yourself for it.

“Shit,” he grumbles, low and gravelly. Joel’s strokes himself faster. “Say it again.”

“I’m sorry for being a bad girl. Touch me, please,” you beg. “I swear I’ll be good for you.”

The groan he lets out is from somewhere deep inside his chest and in your periphery, you notice that he’s still jerking himself off. For a moment, you thought he had come by the sound that came out of him. Joel obliges and reaches over to shove two of his thick fingers into your cunt. With his palm against your clit, you begin rutting into his hand, desperate to chase your lost orgasm again.

Joel leans over, lets go of his cock, and sticks his free hand toward you.

“Spit,” he commands with an open hand.

You glance at him for a second to see if he’s serious. With a furrowed brow, parted lips, and eyes so dark you feel like you could get sucked into them like a black hole, you know he’s serious. Dead serious. Spit pools in your mouth before you let it fall into his hand, doing your best to keep your eyes on the road even though you want to look at his fucked out face so badly.

Joel says something under his breath, but it’s hard to decipher what over the sound of his fingers fucking your cunt and the wet glide of his hand on his cock. You think it sounded like a thank you, but there’s no way you heard him correctly.��

“Bein’ a good girl now, huh?” That sounds more like Joel. “You’ll do whatever I say when you’re needy like this. My pretty, desperate whore.”

Even though it was followed by desperate and whore, he still called you pretty. Better yet, he called you his. Your face and neck get hot from the compliment and your impending orgasm.

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, grinding into his palm. The pressure that was snatched from you before quickly returns. “Joel, I’m going to—”

“Alright now, fuck yourself on my fingers. Come f’me, sugar,” he encourages, plunging himself deeper into you.

You unravel as your orgasm hits you like a freight train and high-pitched moans claw their way out of you. Clenching around Joel’s fingers and slamming on the brakes, your trembling legs close around Joel’s hand, trapping him between your thighs. It takes everything in you not to close your eyes.

“‘Atta girl. S’good, sweetheart,” Joel says through grit teeth as he massages his shaft.

Abruptly, you pull over on the shoulder, all gravel and debris. If you could think straight, you’d be worried about popping a tire. You put the car into park and throw your head back on the headrest. Letting your head loll to the side, you finally get a good look at Joel. His cheeks are flushed and mouth is slightly agape as he continues to stroke his dick. When he notices you staring at him, he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Open,” he commands. His voice is low and firm in the most delicious way.

Once you part your lips and stick your tongue out, Joel puts one of his digits, coated in your juices, in your mouth. You wrap your lips around his finger and close your eyes, humming as you taste yourself. He pulls his finger out of your mouth with an obscene pop. The other finger that was buried in you goes into his mouth as he plays with himself. He sucks it clean and you feel your juices leak out of you at the sight.

You have to have him. You have to.

Leaning over the middle console, you go to wrap your lips around the red, leaking tip of his cock when he grabs you by the hair.

“No.”

“No?” you ask, slowly and obviously confused.

“No,” he repeats. “Ya don’t get my cock, baby.”

“No?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you sit up and stare at him incredulously. “Well, why the fuck not?”

“‘Cause you slammed on the brakes. Y’were distracted,” he states matter-of-factly like you’re an idiot for even asking.

You let out a dry laugh and lean back into your seat, pulling up your pants. The whole time you’re doing this, Joel continues to chase his own release.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. I was coming. I was doing what you said to do,” you defend yourself.

“Wasn’t the point of the game. Point of the game was to not be distracted.”

You shake your head and turn away from him, crossing your arms. You realize you look childish, but that doesn’t stop you from staring out the front windshield, ignoring the man next to you who sounds closer to his orgasm every second.

“No, c’mon. Look at me,” he demands between ragged breaths. “Couldn’t keep your damn eyes off of me earlier. So right here, look right here.”

Joel grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, your eyes locked on his blown out pupils.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

You listen. You always do. Joel’s chest heaves up and down as he gets closer to coming and he looks beautiful like that, with his brows drawn tightly together and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hand cradles your face as he pries your jaw open with his thumb, sticking it in your hot, wet mouth. You clasp around him and suck. This does him in, and he spills all over his hand as he groans. You can’t look away, completely mesmerized by the mess dripping down his shaft and rough hands.

“Fuck,” he says with a sharp exhale.

He pulls his thumb out from your mouth and gathers some of his cum on his index finger. Before he even lifts his hand to you, you open your mouth expectantly. Joel smirks at you as he pushes his finger into your mouth. Joel always knows what you want and to some extent, you always know what he wants. You suck until there’s nothing left.

“Fuck,” you repeat back to him, nodding and wiping some spit off of your lower lip with the back of your hand.

Joel’s hand drops and he tenderly rubs circles on your thigh, letting his hand rest there. Your breath hitches at the contact. It’s soft, sweet, and surprising. Both of you sit in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath and come down from your highs. Eventually, Joel squeezes your thigh before pulling away and reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out napkins to clean himself up. Once he tucks himself back into his boxers and buttons his jeans, you slide closer to him and shove his arm.

“What?”

“Move,” you reply. “I don’t want to drive anymore. Someone tired me out.”

Joel rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Never afraid to show his annoyance with you. Even so, he gets out of the car and you slide into the passenger seat.

Back on the road, Joel’s dead silent, staring ahead and acting like nothing happened. Maybe it’s the nature of the situation, of fooling around in the car, but you feel like you’re missing something. There’s not the weight of Joel’s body on yours, no comforting touch, no kisses on your neck.

“Do you even like me?” you ask suddenly. Goddamn it, you think to yourself. Why the fuck would you ask that?

Joel glances over at you with one eyebrow raised, looking surprised by your question. One of his arms is perched on the side of the door, his hand resting on his cheek, while the other hand grasps the steering wheel tightly. His knuckles are almost white from the grip.

“Enough to deal with your ass for a week,” he says, looking back at the road. It’s Joel, so he sounds grumpy, but there’s also some lightness to his tone and you don’t know what to make of it.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, “but for the record, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

No. You don’t.

You shake your head and lean against the window, closing your eyes while a smile creeps on your face against your will.

Joel’s looking at you. You can feel it.

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forty-servants-free-readings · 1 day ago

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Pick a card

How would your future spouse react to a break up prank?

(requested, not my idea😐)

Pick a group, your reading is under the cut. I offer short, free oracle readings. Feel free to send question to my askbox, anon is on. Answers are very slow due to demand and busy personal life, from time to time I go on hiatus. There is also paid offer, explained in my pinned post. If you want to support me there is a PayPal link in my bio.

Pick a pile masterlist

Group 1 - The Protector

They will want to protect your relationship and will offer to fix it at all costs. They will try to repair what's between the two of you and they will also immediately suspect that some other person is trying to seduce you and put you against them. They might be stuck in defensive mode long after you admit it was a prank.

Group 2 - The Librarian

They will ask you a million questions. Is it something they've done? Is it something about them? Is there somebody else? It it their fault? Did they hurt or insult you unwillingly? They won't let you drop the topic even after you admit to pranking them. They will want to know what made you do something so cruel. Are they not giving you enough attention?

Group 3 - The Devil

Utter and complete denial. At first they will completely deny that you really request something like this from them cause no way, your relationship is literally flawless, they're so happy and they fought you were too. Once you admit to pranking they will not forget you, be ready to get cold shoulder for many nights.

Group 4 - The Balancer

The least toxic out of them all. They will offer to give you space if you need it, ask if you were overburdened in this relationship and try to make situation as peaceful as possible. Might beg to reconcile at first. They will definitely ask you to take some time to think of this break up and wonder if you really want it. If you do they will be in pain but will let you go. If you admit to pranking they will keep their calm attitude but definitely won't laugh.

#free oracle reading #forty servants #pick a card #pick a pile #cartomancy #divination #future spouse #pick a picture #tarot

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lilysouph · 2 days ago

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The Hayffie-discourse is dumb and here's why:

They're fictional characters, it really isn't that deep, get over yourself. I feel like this is the most obvious one, but I just had to say it.

"but what about Lenore Dove?" Well first of all, nothing about Hayffie ever interrupts with Haymitch's relationship with LD. Lenore Dove is his first love, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't deserve a second after she's gone. Humans are complex beings, and love isn't a pie chart. Haymitch loving Effie doesn't take away any of his love for Lenore Dove. They each have their own pie, and they're even different flavours. If the sole soulmate thing floats your boat, then fantastic, you go with that. Personally I don't want Haymitch to suffer in a depressed drunken haze for the rest of his life where he continues to punish himself for the Captiols actions, but maybe that's just me. Besides, Haymitch having a dead girlfriend is nothing new to us, and idk why we're pretending otherwise. It was always a part of his story

"they have such differing views, her being Capitol and him hg survivor", did we read the same book? If SOTR told us anything about Effie, it is that she's always had a different view of the tributes and games than other Capitol members. Yes she's deeply brainwashed, in the same way someone in a deeply religious cult would be, but there's a layer of her that doesn't buy into the animalistic view of the tributes and games. And that's sort of the beauty of her character and her relationship with Haymitch, that throughout the years she sees more and more the faults of her people. And maybe her ditsy uncaring nature is a façade, covering her rebel thoughts, or maybe it's a coping mechanism to keep from falling apart every time one of her kids are killed, but it could also be just someone learning from their mistakes. Why does that make them unlovable?

"The age difference tho!" What? The six year age difference between two characters in their 40s? Ok let's address it. Effie is likely between 20-22 ish during SOTR. Why do I say that? Cus in BOSAS Snow is 18 and graduating, meaning he would be 18 starting the University. Now, we don't know how schooling works in the Capitol, all we know is that there's lower grades and upper grades. For all we know, stylist school could be 2 years or it could be 4. Where I'm from, in my actual homeplace, it's 2. That's also my headcanon for Effie, placing her at around 20 as a recent graduate. That's a four year age gap, which isn't a lot even at 16, but it's definitely not a lot at 30/40.

Truth be told, I think a lot of the age difference discourse is a lot to do with plain ole misogyny. You rarely see this same outrage over relationships where the man is the older one and the woman is the younger. People have had no problem shipping Johanna and Haymitch for years, and that's an even bigger age gap. Even canon ships like Remus and Tonks in Harry Potter (13yrs), where the likelihood of him having first met her as an infant is extremely high due to Sirius' close relationship with his aunt Andromeda, but ig that's neither here nor there.

In conclusion:

Fandom spaces lately have had a heavy focus on canon-accuracy, and what's more canon compliant. While there of course is nothing wrong with preferring the canon choices made by the author/creator, it's important to remember that a big part of fan culture is and always has been to be able to take the original stories and material and spin off it with your own thoughts, mind, and creativity. The push for only canon-compliant material has become a bit of a problem, and is to be completely honest, something that does not belong in fandom spaces. Hell, you even see this in fandoms like Harry Potter's Marauders, which is entirely made up of fan-made material, where people are complaining that certain characters are behaving ooc when there is no actual canon material on the character.

Now I get that a lot of y'all are new to fandom, so I'll be kind, but rule number 1 of fan culture is "if you don't like it, don't interact with it", it really isn't that deep. Hayffie is probably one of the most normal and common ship dynamics on the internet, and if you think that's "too toxic", wait till I introduce you to the incestuous and 20+ yr age gap minor/adult ships we've all had to stomach over the years. You've got a tough battle ahead of you if the plan is to take down every ship you don't agree with. If you don't like it, don't interact with it. Hayffie has existed for longer than some of you guys have been on the internet, and ships like Hayffie will continue to exist long after you've left the fandom. Life is too short to spend it on actively hating on ships and shippers you don't like. Let people have fun with fiction, free your whimsy and joy and creativity and all that.

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kryptznnn · 3 days ago

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♡/♛- Patience III

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

➸ INTERESTS; -pro-hero!katsuki bakugo (27) x f!quirk-less reader (23)

➸ BACKGROUND; -During pro-hero 'Dynamite's term within the top 3 heroes of the country, it was made aware by his agency that he needed assistant around. He hadn't appreciated the gesture really, as he hates being followed let alone babysitting, but he wasn't ready for you to enter his life.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.6.1k, sexual tension, arguing, frustration, mentions of alcohol, drinking, drunk kissing, drunk sex, under the influence mention, partying, teasing, obsession and possesive mention, slight infidelity, mentions of cheating, masturbation, kissing, fluff, smut, etc.

➸a.i; - 🌸my main navigation, so sorry it's been like MONTHS since my last update on this story im so embarrassed. I just realized my last post to this was around christmas? bye its summer break, im working on the aizawa fic as well and posted last night. I've also made an AO3 account this week, so I'll be active on both accounts and take requests on either. thank you! (also not proof read)

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

[Patience II , Patience I]

“I don’t need saving, I had it handled.” You groaned, busting open the doors to your main shared office with Katsuki before walking over to your space and placing your things down.

“A thank you’d suffice. Why do you have to be all upset over it, press was eating you alive.” He responded, beginning to remove his gauntlets before closing the doors and locking them. Your jaw tightened at his words before you turned to him.

“Thank you Dynamite. My hero.” You said through gritted teeth before rolling your eyes and going back to unpacking your belongings. You heard him scoff from behind you.

“You’re bein annoyin’. Can you stop doin that and stop treatin me like it’s all my fault?” He said in an agitated tone, tossing his gauntlets onto his desk as they cluttered together with his other items loudly, making you jump a bit. “Yea the press got too into your relationship with your stupid little boyfriend, so-“

“Respectfully sir. Whatever I do with my time and who I do it with when I leave this damn building is none of your concern. Nor is it any of your business who I bring into my apartment or my bed for the night. The press is shameful for causing a stir, but you’re even more immature and selfish for making it worse.” You spat, now turning around to face him as you pointed.

This entire situation was insufferable especially so early in the morning. Even when you both expected the situation to die down months ago after he came towards you with the news of your business nearly being outed it still managed to follow you and bite you back in the ass.

Now the pictures of you and your friend had flooded the streets, being caught at a restaurant and an apartment complex similar to yours, but it was actually his. The two of you hadn’t been officially together but you weren’t open to anyone else either, still working through the labels.

Now, this morning the press had been anchoring down on your future and your plans and if you new ‘relationship’ would pry into your work. As shoving others aside and shutting down reporters Katsuki had the nerve to repeat the question back to you, asking how serious the two of you were.

Now here you were, bickering back at one another, arguing like high schoolers. Yes you owed him the truth and clarity as he was now your superior, but after over a year of being with one another almost everyday you’d think things wouldn’t have to be so hostile.

After of what felt like hours, which were only minutes of frustration and build up lashing out at one another, you sat at your desk in silence. Your back faced to the outside world and Katsuki as you took a deep breath attempting to focus on your computer work for the day.

You started with clearing calendars and schedules, doing whatever didn’t require you to speak to Katsuki as of right now. You could hear some noises and clinking from behind you but you only ignored it, putting in one earbud as you worked.

Hours passed as you neared the end of your shift and work online. Whatever you had to confirm with him verbally or in person you made sure to write it down to ask another time if you weren’t able to email him a link of things. Police reports, hero reports and even council meetings with the agency or board.

Your brows furrowed as you looked at the time on your laptop, reading a soft glow of 8:12pm. You only exhaled softly before resting your chin in your hand before scrolling some more on tomorrow’s schedule.

The thick tension in the room was undeniably intoxicating enough to make you want to scream. Things hadn’t felt fair today and for the first time in what seemed to be a lifetime you had your first genuine fight with Katsuki.

So much could’ve been on the line at the moment, your reputation, your paycheck, your respect and even your job. You felt something twist at your gut as you sat in silence, biting at your bottom lip.

Usually when something upsets you, you’d run it by him and he’d just say alright or blow it off to not raise any issues. Now this time was different, because you had blown up at him and refused to take either of those actions as an answer, and here you were.

Even your relationship with Katsuki was on the line as of now, at least that’s what you were convinced. You had gotten so close with the man and he became everything you hadn’t expected, you were able to make him smile and even laugh, each time blooming a warmth within you that you hadn’t understood.

It certainly wasn’t one you had with your friend Ren, if you could even call him a friend. The things you’ve done or said to one another certainly weren’t friendly actions. Maybe you were at fault for the first half, taking out your frustrations and anger from unhappiness on everyone but the actual reason.

You felt your eyes begin to sting for a moment before swallowing. Hoping to flush whatever nerves and heat that rose to your face at the moment. Work might be one of the worst places to cry, and it certainly wasn’t something you’d begin to do today.

In one fellow swoop you clicked your laptop to sleep and closed it, standing up from your seat and pushing in your chair. Slowly you gathered your belongings, your mind racing as to think of what to say, or how to start it.

Soon you gathered all of your things on your side and got a hold of your coat, holding it in your hands as you made your way over to Katsuki, who was seated at his desk in different clothing on his two screened desktop.

“I wanted to apologize for today sir, it was never my intention to cause such a large issue or ruckus between us.” You said apologetically, bowing as you did so, a small frown falling upon your lips.

He only looked up at you, not responding. No reaction was plastered on his face, not one of surprise or shock, maybe even anger or sadness, nothing. He stared at you as if looking at a wall, clicking his tongue before moving off to the empty side of his desk before gesturing you to sit down.

“Do you drink?” He asked you, already grabbing two glasses and placing them down on the table as you watched him. You raised a brow at the question before answering truthfully, making him walk over to the large fridge/freezer from behind him as he opened it to reveal neat whiskey.

He sat down, pouring an ample amount of whiskey into each cup, pouring more into his before placing the cap on the bottle. He could feel your eyes on his, feeling the confusion in your gaze, but he hadn’t faltered any of his movement. He only placed the bottle to the side and slid your cup over to you before speaking.

“You have nothin to apologize for. I was wrong for buggin you with it anyways, you were stressed enough.” He started, picking up his chilled glass and taking two gulps before starting again. “Whatever you do, or whoever you do is none of my business.” He finished, taking another swig of his drink before placing his cup down, raising a brow as he watched you.

You sat there with your cup, resting in your hands but untouched. You only looked into it with an even wider frown now, brows furrowing slightly as you took in his words, eyes flicking over to him and back to the cup.

“Is that your way of an apology?” You asked, earning a soft chuckle from him, if you hadn’t been so focused on him you would’ve missed it for sure. “I was sure you’d hate me” you ended, before taking a large mouthful of your drink, nearly finishing it.

“I could never hate you” was all he said as he watched you, before finishing his own short glass. He only turned to open the bottle of whiskey again before pouring himself more and pushing the bottle closer over your now empty cup, filling it to the top as he did for his own.

His words echoed in your head, you smiled softly. Never was a strong word to use, especially given the circumstances of this morning. You only looked down into your glass again, feeling the back of your neck and ears heat up intensely as your stomach felt light.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’ve grown very fond of me.” You said in a joking manner, earning a hum in response from Katsuki. “You might even like me sir.” You said on edge, boring your eyes into his face to rile a reaction out of him, he only took a mouthful of whiskey before parting his lips to answer.

“Take it however you want to” he responded, watching as you enjoyed yourself as you drank. The warm in your chest from the alcohol felt so relaxing once it settled, immediately feeling the effects seep into your head and spread all over your body.

You placed your coat in your lap now, making yourself more comfortable as you let your down from the ponytail it was in. You took a sigh of relief as you did so, immediately feeling better.

Katsuki watched you, his eyes training over your face and body like a predator watching its prey before making its move. He was thankful for having alcohol here, hoping it would hide whatever blush that would appear if things came to worse.

He’d rather flush out the feeling of anxiety and jealousy in his chest with the warmth of the alcohol, wanting to forget all of this morning. He had expected you two were close, closer than he anticipated, than he hoped for. His slight subtle touches and sayings never went by you, and yet you ended up with another man.

When he found out that this morning it dug into his skin harsher than anything he had felt for years. Like the feeling when Izuku had grown a quirk at random, or when he was beaten over and over again in competition of his other classmates and superiors in challenges, exams, and even missions.

Because now he was in competition all over again, and the challenge was you, to grasp at your attention and become a priority of yours. Maybe if he had kissed you back all of those months ago before walking you to your car, things would be different.

As strong as Katsuki was, as powerful as he was and as wealthy as he was, he wasn’t anything short of a coward. All he could do was sit and watch you slip away from his fingertips no matter how hard he tried to grasp at you.

It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair to him. Whoever you were with now surely didn’t deserve you, they surely didn’t make you as happy as he could. Like how he’d watch you grin from ear to ear when you’d try new food you’d enjoy, or when someone makes a mistake you’d point out in meetings with the agency only to be rewarded of your sharp eye afterwards.

It felt like now things had started to move backwards. The time and energy that you’d built off of one another was now being flushed down a toilet right before his eyes. He wasn’t sure what idea had hurt him more, you being out of touch with him to be with another man, or the fact you just simply wanted nothing to do with him in the first place.

He only frowned at the thought before turning his gaze elsewhere, the bittersweet taste of the whiskey now seeming to get to him. He only pushed the bottle further aside before getting up and walking towards the opposite side of his desk, grabbing his phone.

“I can call you a ride to talk you home.” Was all he said, listening as you hummed to him in agreement. His eyes flickered over to your tipsy eyes, you grinned widely at him, your teeth showing. He only looked back over to his phone and shut his eyes tightly, removing the mental image he placed of you in his head.

Maybe drinking with you alone was a horrible idea. He had only wanted to rid of the bad tension of this morning, but he seemed to have made things worse. Your hooded eyes and cheeky grin, hair lowered down to the sides of your face and your glossy lips being less flush as your makeup stained the glass.

He only made his way over to you, one hand holding his phone while the other held his glass, raising a brow at you as you sat up straight. “Do you want me to call them now?” He asked, earning a small shake of the head from you, before slowing your movements and smiling again.

You stood up now, leaning over the desk to reach for the half filled bottle of whiskey before Katsuki reached over stopping your hand, all after putting his phone in his pocket. You stood up straight to look at him, rolling your eyes before taking his glass from his hands and downing the rest, maintaining eye contact with him.

He only swallowed before looking off to the side, taking the glass from your hands and placing it down onto the desk. You only looked at him, moving your head slightly to the side to lock eyes with him again.

“You should go home.”

“I want to stay here longer, I just got com-“

“Your shift ended a while ago, I’ll call a car.” He cut you off, reaching into his pocket again grabbing his phone. You stopped him before he was able to pull it out.

“Please… Katsuki.” You pleaded, brushing your hand away from his wrist as you placed it on his chest, his face hovering over yours. That same scent of his familiar, sweet like nectar mixed with cologne and it drove you mad.

You asked yourself if his lashes had always been so long, and brown as well, not blonde like the rest of his hair or eyebrows. Or how he had the smallest freckles this close to his face, you couldn’t see them before from far away even with your glasses on.

You let your fingertips dance across Katsuki’s face for a while, and surprisingly he let you. Not moving or complaining as you did so, making you smile even harder, feeling your cheeks start to strain.

“You’re very pretty for a boy.” You cooed, now tracing out his freckles of his face before kissing the side of his cheek softly, now on your tip toes before pulling back. You only felt both of his strong hands rest on each side of your waist before pulling your body closer to his.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, you have to go home Y/n.” He stated, holding you in place and lowering his head. You only lifted his face again as you reached on your tip toes, now kissing the bridge of his nose, gasping as his fingers now dug into your skin, lifting you up onto the desk to sit beside the empty glasses.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not”

“Prove it.” He gasped, his face flushed as his hands never left your side, watching you as you laughed. He watched the way your throat bobbed and you tossed your head back, your hand coming towards your mouth as if to hide it.

“My name is Y/N L/N, today is Thursday and we’re in year 20XX. I can walk in a straight line too.” You said, counting off your fingers as you named every obvious detail as you looked at the calendar on the wall from afar.

“Don’t do this to me” he said in a whisper, barely loud enough for you to catch onto, but you did. You only raised a brow at him as he wore a frown on his face, letting go of you suddenly before getting his phone and sending out a message, his phone dinging within seconds.

He only grabbed your belongings without warning, taking your glasses and accessories and placing them in your bag. Lifting them off your and his desk before making his way back over to you, grabbing your coat as you stood up off his desk.

He grabbed your hand, pausing for a while as you intertwined your fingers with one another as you made your way to the elevator. He pressed the down button, waiting for it to open silently. He didn’t dare turn around to look at you, his pulse sky rocketing and mind racing in confusion.

Soon the elevator arrived and he only waltzed in with you, your hand soon slipping from his grasp as you stood inside, watching him with a satisfied hum. The tension inside seemed to buzz louder than the dying alcohol in your system had, making you more flustered than you possibly already were.

You weren’t sure how or what lead to the moment, although you were sure you made the first move, but as of right now he had you pressed against the wall of the elevator, just underneath the large camera serving as a blind spot as he kissed your lips roughly.

His tongue tasting the same as the whiskey you’d had with him upstairs earlier as your bag was dropped to the elevator floor. You moaned into his mouth as both of your hands were wrapped around the back of his neck, as his hands seemed to maneuver every way over your body.

Starting from cupping your face to hugging at your hips and waist, crawling down to squeeze at your ass and even hold you up by your thighs as you straddled him. The short, but painfully sinful moment being cut as the elevator dinged, making him practically jump off of you.

He gasped, attempting to slow his breathing as you did the same, your fingers ghosting over your lips as you did so. He was quick to pickup your bag as you fixed your ruffled skirt and wrinkled blouse. As you stood towards the entrance of the elevator as the doors opened Katsuki stopped you, fixing your hair in the way it had looked before it all started before letting you step out first.

The walk through the lobby and out into the lot was absolutely silent, you only snuck glances at one another in secrecy. From what you’d seen on Katsuki he seemed overjoyed, a large smile, genuine at that placed over his face as he walked.

As you made it outside towards his driver he held the door open for you, handing you your bag as you sat. You only nodded and thanked him as he closed the door, your window rolled down.

“Thank you… for today. I’ll let you know once I make it home.” You said cheerfully, he only nodded, his hands resting in his pockets before taking a step back, nodding his head to the driver as a signal for you to go.

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

Katsuki Bakugo isn’t in love, and he certainly isn’t in love with you. It would be the only way to explain his crazy attitude and actions recently, but that couldn’t be the case.

He understood love, he had loving and caring people in his life who showed it to him, but none of those people he loved had made him to thibns like these.

He was unable to sleep, eat, bathe without fully engulfing in memories of you. Dreaming of you at night, or even imagining you eating dinner with him in his large house alone.

There have even been times you’ve been in the shower with him, your head tilted back a bit for the water to drip down your body, all for him to watch you, or masturbate as he did so. He’d watch as his imagination of you would roll your nipples underneath your pinching fingers as you teased and played with yourself, moaning his name over and over.

You’d always keep eye contact with him as you did so, and somehow always cumming at the same time. Then after things ended you’d disappear from his shower, from his thoughts, until night would come.

He was sure he was wasting his twenties away, that this was some sort of illness. He had went through all stages of ‘love’ he had deemed impossible and entirely unnecessary.

There was the stage of affection or crushing, that was how it had all started off. Catching glimpses of you longer than he should have, hanging with you longer than usual and listening to your small talk, making mental notes of what you liked.

He was sure that stage ended after the interaction with his parents for the first time, and even after mentioning your name on accident to his friends. He hadn’t seen you as anything then, just sure it was the work atmosphere and liking to let loose with you from time to time.

That’s not what coworkers or employees do, that’s what friends do. Yes, the two of you became a baseline of friends outside of work from that small time period and he was quite fond of it, but it still hadn’t entirely described all he felt.

Like the small chances of jealousy, especially more than usual recently, and lust. The lust was intoxicating beyond a point he could stand. He was honestly so surprised with himself he hadn’t just fucked you rough to have his hips snap into your pelvis repeatedly on his desk after your lips ghosted over his face over and over. You were such a tease and he hated it for himself, he hated more that you hadn’t even seemed to remember anything else you did the next day.

Don’t get him started on the concept of obsession either, seeing things in public or on social media pages and thinking if you’d like it. Than forcing a schedule that revolved around you in it daily, even if you weren’t working that day he had to see you. It wasn’t healthy in the slightest but in all honestly who was Katsuki to give a single fuck about anything he was obligated to not do.

Like how he’d pry and as more about you and your “mystery” man you still had yet to reveal his name and background to him for. Or how he’d have your log in information and password for your laptop and check on things every now and then, emails and webpage history. Taking note of what you’d do and what you had set up for yourself outside of work hours and away from the agency behind his back, smiling to himself when there was hardly anything there.

He never saw himself as those weirdos he’d tease from crime television, or stalkers he’d heard stories of. He was an admirable man, at least he tried to be, being less of a wreck and head over hells in anger issues as he grew older.

He might have not been calm as much as he’d like to be but he had managed the collected half. Now since your intimate moment in his office after having a glass or three in his office he was sure keeping his distance from you would be best.

Maybe you were lying, for your own sake and dignity about not remembering. Shame could be a reason, or fear, fear of how your relationship would continue if you had acted on those feelings before.

And it hadn’t helped that he let it happen, his pride weak and grip even weaker. He was in a mental battle with himself, telling you to leave and stop but grabbing you and pulling you closer to him. Allowing your lips to rest upon his face and your hands rest on his chest, as you spoke of your familiar boyfriend in the morning.

Katsuki wondered if he should’ve felt bad for the man. The press and public getting ahold of his relationship with you and yet you were in his office, pressing soft kisses and giggles onto his face.

But as you mentioned you didn’t remember, so there was no reason to think or act on anything. If he could go back and do things differently he would, but he’s not sure he’d be able to have the balls to do it.

He wondered for a while how your relationship was, whether you were enjoying yourself and happy with the way things worked out. A part of him agreed that couldn’t have been the case since you seemed so ready for him to take you, and even wondered if you two were truly official.

Maybe if he knew the answer to those questions the guilt that gnawed on his heart that night would have no reason to even be there. He was entirely sure he would be able to satisfy whatever need or desire your body craved, or whatever your flaunted boyfriend couldn’t provide.

No matter the reason or cause, Katsuki was sure he wasn’t one of the worst men on the planet, and certainly not the most jealous, which eased his mind. Some men in his situation would’ve either killed the woman they’re infatuated with or kill the 3rd involving party, leaving a gruesome look and record.

He was very far beyond that point and he knew he had nothing to worry about. Except for tonight of all nights that is, being out with his friends at a large bar, to which they practically begged him to invite you.

You had made your familiarities with all of them before, during Katsuki’s birthday, and yours had passed a while back to have a nice dinner with everyone. So seeing them all again and sharing laughs and drinks were evident, especially when Mina gasped at your forwardness.

“I mean, it’s like he hates me or something! Going around and hiding for months and he still has yet to call me his girlfriend! Technically we aren’t dating so I can do whatever the fuck I want!” You shouted, throwing your arms up in frustration as the others laughed, Katsuki stayed quiet, eyeing you.

He had spoke less and less throughout the night, but this had immediately caught his attention. He turned his head to face you, sitting two seats down across from him as you laughed along with Mina, taking another shot before speaking.

"I'd never date a guy like him anyways, it's just something to pass the time, he gets it." Was all you said before earning a couple laughs and 'oh's' from others, and a brow raise from Katsuki.

"Girl you're speaking like you've got another guy on your mind." Mina gasped, you only looked off to the side with a smirk, not bothering to respond. She only squealed in response as you finished your drink, humming softly.

She went on and on with the others, inquiring to know who it was that had you so captivated to the fact you were too embarrassed to share. You only ignored it, waving your arms profusely as you watched your empty cup. You looked over quickly to catch Katsuki's glaze in yours before looking back over to the others, making sure it wasn't detected.

As the night continued on, more and more empty glasses and bottles littered your large, shared table, and eventually, you bid everyone your farewells before standing up. As you turned to leave you bumped into Katsuki's chest accidentally before pausing and looking back, your apology slurring.

He only turned with you, his hand resting on your lower back as he escorted you to the car, he was speaking to you, but you only hummed in response. His words sounded too rapid for you to understand, or maybe it was just the alcohol. You only entered the car, his hands never leaving your body as you entered, you only mumbled as you put your seatbelt on.

He sat beside you, a seat separating the two of you as he leaned forward to talk to the driver. You only kept your eyes trailed on his figure, dressed in casual attire. You never took him as a man to wear jeans so often, he seemed more of a dress pants kind of guy, but it didn't seem to matter too much.

It reminded you of a photoshoot he had scheduled for an upcoming modeling agency that asked him to wear a full denim outfit. Denim jeans and a jean jacket, shirtless as the hem of his underwear hung at his waistline, poking out of his pants. Those photos are still something engraved in your mind, you bit your bottom lip to stifle a giggle that was soon to slip out.

He only sat back as he heard you, turning to face you as you smiled widely, batting your lashes at him. He looked out your window for a minute, watching as the middle window separating the backseat and the driver rolled up. You lifted your fingers up, tracing the corners of his face and cheeks, brushing his hair away from his sides.

He leaned down in front of you, faces only centimeters away from one another. You made the first move, leaning in closer to him as your lips brushed against one another, testing the waters with a large grin. Before you could even pull away he leaned down and kissed you eagerly, his hands gripping at your face and throat, angling your face upwards at him.

He hesitated a little before licking at your lips before you invited him into your mouth without a second thought. If it wasn't for the fogginess of your mind and the butterflies in your stomach gnawing at your focus you could've sworn, he was smiling into the kiss as he did so.

In the small moment of shared gasps and moans throughout your make-out with Katsuki, the vehicle comes to a short stop. You're the first to pull away, looking out your window to see your apartment complex. You gasp into a smile, immediately removing your seatbelt before turning to Katsuki and opening your door, grabbing his hand in a way to pull him out.

He's surprised, but obliges, too drunk to truly care now that you've arrived back at your place without harm. He soon comes out of the car with you and you give the driver a quick thank you and wave before dragging Katsuki along with you through your front door after unlocking it with your keycode combination.

He's drunk now, but he wishes he would somehow be able to remember the code in case of emergency in the future. You only kicked your shoes off and began to attack him with kisses, not making it past the entrance of your home.

He was quick to respond, slamming the door shut behind him as he grabbed you, lifting you up onto his waist as you wrapped your legs around him. Moans and whines were thrown around in the air as he tossed you onto the nearest piece of furniture he could find, your couch.

Kisses turned into bites, grasping turned into grabbing, removing clothing and brushing hair aside until the two of you were completely nude on the couch. You moaned into Katsuki as he continued, the night advancing as you began to sober up, him doing the same.

“Katsuki” you whined, placing your hands on his torso attempting to push him with the little to no strength you had as he thrusted into you with no remorse, grunting at your words.

He was above you, pressing against you to the point you thought you were genuinely melting into the large couch. Your legs were spread for him, as he made himself more than comfortable between them, his upper broad body caging your much smaller one.

He only grunted in your ear, uttering lines between pet names and cursing how good you felt. Honestly you weren’t sure why you were pushing him away, it felt so good, but it was too good. The feeling was making your head spin and your heart pounding through your chest and your body trembling slightly.

“Want me to stop?” He panted, his pace now begging to slow down a little bit as his strokes now became sloppy, looking into your eyes as you shook your head, now digging your nails into his shoulders as you moaned.

My god, it felt as if he was splitting you into two, and you loved every second of it, you whined like a big baby, and he loved it. You felt as if you would’ve burst and couldn’t handle it, and he would just baby you and push you through it.

His positive words would ring through your ears as you babbled, now softly sobbing into his chest as he pressed back down onto you, rutting into you like some kind of animal. You only reached your arms out over his back, hugging him now as you began to do the same with your legs, locking him in place as you felt your high approaching.

He could already tell you were close from how you held him, and your crying getting louder. His grunts and moans became louder, repeating his phrase of 'oh fuck’ over and over again into your neck as he was close as well. You began to squeeze around his length as he dug deeper into you, placing one hand on your lower stomach, repeatedly tickling your cervix with his cock.

You began to grow louder; whoever your neighbors were would’ve definitely heard the sounds of your voices mixing with one another and your skin speaking to one another. Katsuki quickly pulled you into a passionate kiss, your tongues quickly tangled with one another as he pulled his head away, now completely focused on making you cum.

As your vision was clouded in tears you could see the beads of sweat rolling down Katsuki's forehead and neck now, you wrapped your hands around his neck. You quickly began to feel a familiar tightening in your stomach as your heart fluttered softly. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol to blame for the way you felt and how much your body responded back to his, but it was nothing you'd ever felt before.

“I’m gonna- baby, I’m so close,” you babbled, now shutting your eyes tightly, letting the tears streaming down the sides of your face as you mewled. He only huffed and hummed in response, keeping the same pace as he came down to your ear. In a way, you prayed this moment wouldn't end; the blissful enjoyment of making love to one another was so suffocating.

“M'gonna fill you up, keep ya nice n’ full” He whispered, letting out a grunt afterwards as his breath hitched. You had finally reached your breaking point as you had already once tonight beforehand. Your orgasm ripping through you as you shouted out, holding onto your lover for dear life as you began to spasm, your legs shaking slightly while still being wrapped around his large back.

Your own orgasm had sent him over the edge, now coming to a complete stop and placing all of his strength into burying himself deep into you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix as you groaned, feeling him twitch inside of you before quickly cumming inside of you.

You both laid there for a moment, your legs still around him as he was still buried deep in you as you caught your breaths. Cursing 'fuck' in unison as you both began to come down from your high before he pulled out, groaning as he did so. The two of you just laid there, looking into one another's eyes before he leaned down to kiss you, clearly exhausted.

He only moved over to the side, grabbing a large blanket that had been folded behind him from your previous laundry before throwing it over the top of you two. He rested his head between your breasts and kissed the area softly; you only smiled at him sleepily before wrapping your arms around his head.

Without even realizing it, you fell asleep almost immediately, praying things would smooth out in the morning.

They in fact, did not.

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

Taglist: @matchat3a @pikachuzhc @froggy-crystal @idiotboys @gojosukuna2268 @dragonscribbles @adherethecomingofage

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

#kryptznnn #mha #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugo katuski #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo imagine

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ayexaye · 2 days ago

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˚⋆｡°✩₊ "Of course I remember you!" [Part 2] ᡣ𐭩

Bachira Meguru x gn!reader, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, 1k~ words, not proof read

Part 1

── .✦

You found him in the playground, hiding under one of the play structures so no teachers could see him. He sat with his knees up to his chest, face buried halfway behind his arms, but you could see the beginnings of a bruise blossoming on his cheek peeking out from behind his sleeve.

He said nothing when you sat beside him.

“I told you not to fight them.”

“They called me a freak again!” He snapped, frustrated by the other children. “And one of them pushed me and… they act like I'm a weirdo all the time!”

You nodded along. “They're just jerks.”

“They always are. Just ‘cause I talk to myself sometimes… and I like monsters and stuff..” He quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but it wasn't fast enough to hide that his eyes were starting to water.

You scooted closer. “I like your monsters.”

“... You do?” His voice wavered, like he was trying to hold back tears.

“They're cool. And fun. Like you.”

That got a small laugh out of him. “You don't think I'm a weirdo?”

“Obviously not. You're my best friend, dummy.”

His hand idly drew in the dirt as he thought for a moment. “I wish you could stay with me forever.”

“I will.”

You meant it back then, but you didn't keep that promise. You moved, lost touch, left behind the boy who wished you'd stay forever.

And yet here you were now, once again sitting beside Bachira in the grass of a quiet park with takeout boxes in your laps. He texted you not even an hour after exchanging numbers after the game, asking to meet the next weekend.

You kept stealing glances at him as he poked at his food, taking in his new appearance. He had his hair half tied up to keep it out of his face–you couldn’t remember him doing that as a kid.

“Stop staring,” he said without even looking up at you. His voice was casual, but the small smirk curling at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Your heart leaped out of your chest.

“I wasn’t!” You said, looking down and shoving food into your mouth to distract yourself from the embarrassment.

Bachira laughed, “You’re a bad liar. You always were, y’know.”

You smiled, and the warmth you felt seemed to refuse to go away.

“So,” he began as he leaned back on his hands with a lazy smile, “are you gonna disappear again, or do I get to keep you this time?”

“It’s not like I wanted to,” you said quietly. “It just… happened.”

“I know,” he said, softer than you expected. “But it still sucked.”

You felt a sense of guilt bubble in your chest that made it hard to meet his eyes. You felt bad for leaving, even if it wasn’t your fault. Both of you fell quiet.

Bachira didn’t look like that kid who got picked on in the schoolyard anymore. He looked like someone who worked hard and trained hard and grew into someone you knew he could be, everything he dreamed of being. His features were more defined but his eyes still held that playful look. He was happy.

You don’t know when you started smiling, but Bachira certainly caught it.

“What?” He asked, strands of hair falling out of the tie as he tilted his head.

“Nothing.” You said quickly as he snapped you out of your thoughts. “Just thinking.. About how different you are now.”

He leaned forward, crossing his legs and letting his hands fall into his lap. “Different how? Be honest. Is that your way of saying I'm hot now?”

Your face warmed and you immediately ducked your head. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you thought it,” he teased as he nudged your knee with his. “You totally did.”

You didn’t answer right away, choosing to stare down at your lap with a weak smile. When you glanced back up, you were met with the sight of Bachira watching you, with an expression that was gentler than before. The way he looked at you made your breath hitch.

“I'm really glad you came.” He said.

“I thought it might have been a dumb idea.” You admitted. “I wasn't sure you'd remember me.”

“Are you serious?” He replied, almost seeming insulted at the idea. “You were my best friend. I could never forget you.”

“But honestly, I thought you might have forgotten about me too,” he continued, pulling up the blades of grass between his fingers. “I mean, I know it wasn't your fault, but I thought you might've moved on completely.”

You had to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. “I didn’t mean to leave things like that,” you replied softly. “Life just got complicated and.. before I knew it, we drifted apart.”

Bachira hummed.

And like it was the most normal thing in the world, “I think I like you.”

“What?!” You replied, stunned.

And he looked at you like you were the one being weird. “I mean it. I've been trying to figure it out since you came to the game that day. And I think I like you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to gather your thoughts. “You.. you can't just drop something like that out of nowhere!”

“Why not?” He replied, tilting his head. “It's true!”

You sighed, taking a moment to calm yourself down, a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart. You laughed quietly, muttering, “You really are the same as back then."

“Hey, it's your turn.” He nudged you again.

“What?”

He leaned forward, a sly smile on his face. “To say you like me back.”

“Since when were you so full of yourself?”

He grinned. “That's not a no.”

“You're impossible,” you mumbled as you buried your face in your hands.

“So do you like me?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He repeated dramatically, pouting. He put his hand over his heart like you had wounded him. “I pour my heart out and all I get is a maybe?”

You shoved his arm, but still smiled and finally replied, “Okay, fine! Yes, I like you! Happy now?”

He hooked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as he hugged you. “Yup. Very.”

── .✦

𖹭.ᐟ BONUS

It was your second real date. Nothing fancy, just a hole-in-the-wall place that he insisted had the best noodles in the world, and then walking around aimlessly until the sun began to dip down under the horizon. And at some point, he grabbed your hand and never let go.

“You're definitely swooning right now.” Bachira said as you reached your street, swinging your hands back and forth between you.

“From what? You spilling sauce on your shirt?”

He shrugged. “Could've been worse. Like spilling it on you.”

Once the two of you reached your front gate, Bachira took both of your hands in his, standing in front of you. “So,” he said, leaning down closer to you. “Do I get a good night kiss?”

You laughed, leaning up to peck his cheek, but he turned at the last second, just enough for it to brush the corner of his lips.

You pulled back, surprised. “You-!”

He grinned, smug. “Oops.”

“You're such a troublemaker..” You said as you shoved his shoulder, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“But you still like me.”

You shook your head as you turned to go inside.

“Text me when you're in bed!” He yelled from behind you, and you couldn't help but smile.

Maybe you were swooning a little bit.

── .✦

𖹭.ᐟ Masterlist

Taglist; @stal1n33

#Valen writes .ᐟ.ᐟ #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #meguru bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #bachira meguru #meguru bachira #reader insert #x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock bachira #bachira #bllk bachira #gender neutral reader

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liedownquisition · 23 hours ago

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If you think that Batman being a good guy means he can't be a fascist, congratulations! You are fully ready to uncritically read any propaganda and convert to the whims of it because the whole point of propaganda is to present the fascists as good guys! Like... that's the whole thing about propaganda, you're supposed to root for the guys they want you to root for and be against the people they want you to turn against. That means presenting them with universally admirable qualities and then using them to prop up fascist institutions.

US Cops are part of an inherently fascist structure. I didn't think this was in question at this point. Bruce has multiple instances and discussions throughout his history including and especially relevantly in Jason's time as Robin where he discusses that they have to operate within a limited framework alongside The Law.

And Jason's ideology is EXPLICITLY to Be a Better Batman.

So it's really just a more extreme version of the EXACT same ideology. Jason in UtH, and continuing into OYL was a crimelord, possibly only ended by BftC (it's a little vague/goes unmentioned that he ever did). meaning he's not JUST getting rid of other gangsters/mobsters, he's Replacing Them. He was really explicitly taking over Black Mask's territory and taking his people, and then once he hit whatever threshold he was eliminating the competition. ->And yeah there is a difference between a shattered leg and murder, sure. Once the medical debt racks up I think the former might be a slower, more agonizing death and condemn you to always continue being a criminal because no one's going to hire you with a rap sheet and a bum leg.

And if you want to criticize Jason for that, you have to acknowledge that Batman also has a crime lord persona: Matches Malone. Which he has explicitly for the purpose of taking it over. (Add War Games to your collection if you don't understand what I'm talking about. Which, wow, that happened RIGHT BEFORE UtH, what a strange coincidence.)

Anyways, the Joker confrontation was for Jason's self-interest, yeah he pretty much says that, but everything else? Nah. He doesn't have to do the crime lord thing to set that up. That's about Being Batman.

Re: Bruce getting punished: His broken back has not had long-term consequences. His venom addiction did not have long term consequences. Outside of those runs, they might as well have not happened most of the time. Bruce losing girlfriends who only existed in one or two runs explicitly for the purpose of being lost is not a long term consequence esp since they're rarely discussed outside of those runs. Breaking up with girlfriends like, say, Catwoman, who only got back with him for one or two arcs for the purpose of dumping him again isn't really a long-term consequence so much as a continuation of their dynamic. Dick always comes back. Tim comes back. Alfred came back until they finally killed him off but they made that DAMIAN'S consequence and not Bruce's. Cass comes back. Damian comes back. These consequences are always reverted back into the status quo. The only real long-term consequence Bruce has is... Jason, actually. And that in-canon rapidly got shifted by the narrative to being Jason's fault. And even Jason coming back never really shifted the status quo back to normal, because he doesn't fit in it.

Also Kori was not just a sexy goldfish you just haven't read anything but maybe the first handful of issues. <3 I'd say that's fair because it's not a good comic, but I have a firm stance in not letting people pretend to be experts in comics they aren't reading. I'm the annoying person who is going to point out that the characters do actually have a lot more in RHATO than most people usually say, even if it's not within the realms of what I would call a "good" comic. She struggled with the personal dilemma of getting sucked back to her planet and wanting to save them, but not wanting to stay because she hadn't forgiven the circumstances of being effectively sold into slavery to save them (which didn't work anyways), as well as facing down one of her former slavers. A more accurate description is "sexy worf" since her role throughout the comic was largely to be the team's badass and show when things are Serious Business by having her lose.

And frankly, it's so funny seeing everyone modernly call Jason "DC's Punisher" because for the most part no one thought that like... in those years between his re-intro to Flashpoint. You know who DID get called that? Roy. Roy got called DC's Punisher and was a much closer allegory because former gov't agent->murderous vigilante because of his daughter beign killed is a much closer comparison to former Cop->murderous vigilante because of his family being killed. -Roy really wasn't groveling at Jason's feet, either btw. And the Outlaws... did not resemble the Titans? Unless you mean that any team with a number of former Titans on it basically "resembles the Titans." In which case would include Outsiders, some versions of the JLA, and more. --> actually speaking of the Outsiders, a lot of people wondered if THAT was the comparison they were trying to make since "Batman and the Outsiders" is a much more similar title. After all, Roy did have a team on Outsiders with Kori, and Jason did show up briefly in that run (though Kori had left the team by then). --->I'm pretty sure literally everyone was dumbed down in n52 btw. Outlaws and other titles as well. If there were titled that didn't feel kind of like an insult to long-time fans in the early days of that era, they weren't one I found to read.

You weren't blaming Editorial for Roy & Kori, really. You blame Jason as a character for Roy and Kori as if he wasn't gutted and hanged on display in an ill-fitting parody of himself just as badly as the other two. Worse, actually, because Kori doesn't have long-term consequences from that. And Roy? Roy's problems didn't start here, they started in Titans '08 when they started retconning a less-sympathetic version of his addiction into his background, In Rise of Arsenal and Titans for Hire when they continued to present him with a horribly prejudiced version of his addiction that they could "blame" him for, and whenever it was that they decided to kill his fucking daughter off in Cry for Justice in the first place.

As for that page, your answer is right there:

He doesn't tell Bruce to kill Joker, he tells Bruce that he is going to kill Joker and Bruce just needs to stand there and let it happen. His alternative is to kill Jason.

Like, this isn't even being media illiterate, this is refusing to read the words on the page in the orders they are in and understand them on the literal most surface surface level.

"I AM GOING TO KILL HIM." "YOU WILL HAVE TO KILL ME" <- do you see why your reading is not only subtextually incorrect, but explicily IN-TEXTUALLY incorrect?

To be honest I think that a lot of people who share the anti Jason Todd sentiment don't even actually hate Jason. I think a lot of them hate what he forces the narrative to do.

Jason forces the subversion of the hero genre -- he's the single, most extreme proof that Batman's hero fantasy wouldn't be effective in real life, and therefore Jason showing up can take you out of the universe really fast really hard. A lot of people are here for what comics are meant to offer, the one man hero fantasy that makes you Feel Good, and Jason showing up doesn't Allow you to enjoy it! And if that's the case, you're completely justified in not liking Jason, he takes you out of the thing you enjoy.

I think a lot of you don't actually find his personality or acts annoying in of themselves, you just hate what those actions do to the genre itself. And I think once you realize that and start looking at comics like actual pieces of literature, Jason and shitty comics both will become a lot less rage inducing to you.

#dc #Mashing Meta Bones with Axel

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holylulusworld · 3 days ago

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Human Purse (5)

Summary: You meet a stranger, and he won’t let you go…

Pairing: Mobster!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Warnings: language, kissing, possessive Loki, mafia au, arguing, fluff

Human Purse masterlist

Catch up here: Human Purse (4)

Loki uses the ride to his brother’s party to get back in your good graces. He leans closer in the backseat of the limousine, his hand brushing your thigh.

“Do you know how often I imagined making you moan my name? I’d worship every inch of your body, lick, taste, and grope and caress.”

You shiver at his promise. Loki is the kind of man who easily wraps you around his finger. “Yeah, I don’t think you will touch, grope, or lick any part of me for the time being.”

“So, there is hope,” Loki concludes. “I know that one day, you’ll tremble beneath me, your cries of pleasure the only sound you’ll make.”

You turn your head to not show Loki how much his words affect you. He can never know that if he charms you only a little more, you’re done for.

“A nice dream,” you scoff, instead of giving in to his advances. “You should know the difference between fact and fiction. It’s called a wet dream.”

His lips almost touch your earlobe when he says, “Darling, believe me. What I have in mind is far from a dream. I want you, and you’ll soon realize I always get what I want.”

It takes everything in you not to melt in his arms. Instead of giving in, you say, “Dream on. You’re a liar, and I can never trust you after you stalked me for so long.”

“I won't give up so easily, darling. One day, you will forgive me,” Loki mutters under his breath. “For now, I’ll settle for you keeping me company at my brother’s party.”

He retreats, a smug grin on his kissable lips. Loki leans back and enjoys your struggle to remain calm. You shake your head and decide to ignore his presence. It’s your fault. You agreed to go to the party with him.

Loki didn’t exaggerate. His brother’s house is huge, almost like a mansion. The party is in full swing when you arrive.

“Relax, darling,” Loki drawls as he guides you around the room. His hand rests on the small of your back, his thumb drawing patterns into your skin. “You look beautiful in that dress.” Loki dips his head to press a soft kiss on your cheek. “Not that you do not look stunning all the time.”

“You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?” You try to sound casual, but your voice gives you away. “I don’t know if I fit in here, Loki. This was a stupid idea. All these women look like they belong, not me.”

“Y/N, you belong here as much as they do.” His arm wraps around your waistline. “Besides, none of them is half as captivating as you are. Do not underestimate yourself, darling.”

“You say that, but I do not feel as confident as you are,” you murmur, not wanting to draw attention toward you.

He looks around the room, his expression hard to read. Loki doesn’t seem to be impressed when most of the single women look his way.

“You see, they are all jealous of you for taming the untamable bachelor. Darling, you have what they only dream of.”

“Let me guess, your attention?” You sass. “They all only want you… I got it.”

His lips brush your ear-shell. “I meant grace, kindness, and honesty.” He chuckles when you start to squirm in his embrace. “And yes, you have my attention too.”

It’s embarrassing how easily Loki makes your heart race and your body weak. You try to sound casual when you say, “I bet you brought many girls here. I’m just the next one in your arms.”

“Loki! Brother!” A deep voice makes itself known. It booms through the room, making everyone stop in their tracks to look Loki’s way.

“Brother,” Loki curtly says, but his greeting is laced with something other than friendliness. “I see you invited half of town…again.”

Thor is tall and broad, with thick blonde locks reaching his shoulders. His blue eyes sparkle, looking your way. “Ah, you must be the chosen one.” He holds out his hand to take yours and presses a chaste kiss to your skin.

“Chosen…one?” You question, confused about Thor’s words.

“Loki never brings a dame to one of my parties. It’s a first,” Thor replies with a smirk. Loki’s grip on you tightens. He holds his brother’s gaze, making his claim on you known.

Thor laughs and steps back, holding up his hands. “Do not make yourself scarce again, brother. We all have missed you dearly. I will hunt you down if you plan on vanishing mid-celebration again.”

“Well, if the party is as dull as the last one, you cannot blame me for leaving.”

The friendly banter between the brothers continues as you watch them with curiosity.

Does Thor know his brother was following you? Does he protect people like his brother, or is he completely different?

“Shall we have a drink, darling?” Loki whispers in your ear, eager to get away from his brother. Thor asked too many questions about you, and his brother doesn’t like it one bit.”

“A drink sounds good…” Loki guides you away, promising to get back to Thor after you greet more people. You’re not sure, but you think it’s a lie…

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #Human Purse (5)#x reader #mafia au

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insociometry · 2 days ago

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"Ready Or Not" Minho POV, chapter 31

Drabble of Minho missing your calls. ~1k words.

Minho leaves the studio, checks his phone, gets in the car, checks his phone, comes home, checks his phone, eats, checks his phone, lies down on Jisung’s bed with his face in his packmate’s pillow, checks his phone, falls asleep for an hour, and checks his phone.

When Jisung walks through the door, he’s obviously not in the mood to hang out, eyes flicking to where Minho’s spread out on his bed with that tense, jittery lightning-burn to his scent: get out of the way; a storm is coming, and you’re the easiest target. So Minho gets up, fake-stretching to keep some semblance of normalcy, and sees himself out before Jisung can even finish getting his hoodie off.

He goes to the kitchen and checks his phone. Drinks water and checks his phone. Thinks about sending you another text, even though you’d never even read the last — Call me, he’d said, and then, a minute later, Please.

He hates the feeling of you being upset with him. He hates not knowing where you are and what you’re doing, not getting photo updates of your day, the silly little things that make your voice jolt up and your fingers tack extra exclamation marks onto your words: skylines and flowers and paw prints stamped wet on concrete; funny signs outside street stalls and children’s drawings on the subway wall, hastily scrubbed at by some desperate parent’s hand. Descriptions of things: overheard jokes, the smell of fresh bread, a story your friend had told you. Long, rambling thoughts about your classes that go way over his head, shifting into English like you don’t even think about it, like your thumb is always hovering over the ‘change keyboard’ button.

You didn’t used to look or listen; you’d told him yourself, during your first real conversation. He didn’t think too hard about it at the time; you’d never seemed like the most observant person, and there’s nothing wrong with just trying to get from one place to another, really. But you’ve been so much happier since you’ve started keeping your eyes open — and you’ve sent him more and more texts as a result, too, and more and more photos, letting him scroll through your scattered messages in between schedules like the morning paper.

But now you’re upset with him — with all of them, because they’re all at fault — and when he goes to check anyway, he finds your chat just as he left it, his own words staring back at him like an accusation.

Call me, he tells you, turned into an echo by his constant rereads, checking to see if you’ve opened it yet. Please.

Pathetic, he thinks, washing out his cup. He’s sure you’re being constantly inundated with messages from the others, anyway. He isn’t going to add to the burden of that, not knowing your disposition, not when a missed text from your roommate had made you wince when you were at his apartment months ago.

Still, his thumb lingers over the keyboard when he checks his messages again. Frustrated, he throws his phone on the couch, locks himself in the bathroom, and takes a shower so hot it makes his head spin.

He can’t be in there longer than ten minutes. In that time, he misses two of your calls.

It doesn’t even register at first. Minho blinks at the screen once, twice, three times, fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around his neck, clothes half-on. Then, he scrambles.

You don’t pick up when he calls — so he tries again, then again. Holds off a while, pacing to Jisung’s room — then picks up that scent again in the hall that marks himself as a lightning rod and their apartment as an imminently burning field, and retreats. Calls you again — nothing. Opens your chat — nothing. Hovers over the keyboard, uncertain, before finally typing out the only things running through his head in an impulsive rush: What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?

No answer. Minho grabs a jacket and trades his house slippers for shoes, keys held tight in hand. Then he changes them back, pacing the living room, wet hair dripping onto his t-shirt.

Not for the first time, he wishes you had meant it when you asked if you should always share your location with him. Not for the first time, he wishes he’d said yes, that he’d said anything, instead of just watching the way your uneasy smile had slipped and stumbled on your face.

The pack is a mess; everyone is a mess. Half of them have been locking themselves away and the other half can’t stop pacing, and no one knows how to settle the feeling kicking at all of them: the protective, placating nature of an alpha turned shrill and piercing with nowhere to go, having failed to protect and failed to placate. Minho still feels like he can taste a wisp of your scent behind his teeth, not enough to satiate but just enough to drive him mad, echoing, Mate, mate, mate— But you aren’t his, and you aren’t here, and you won’t fucking call him back.

Minho goes for a drive just to settle the feeling. He finds himself on your street without even realizing how much time had passed, staring at any lit-up window and wondering if it’s you.

When he does snap back into the present, he all but lunges for his phone, so quickly he picks up his foot without meaning to, unparked car lurching. But even though some time has passed — his screen lights up, and there’s no answer.

He supposes he deserves this. He hadn’t wanted to go along with any of this but he’d done it anyway, and now he’s paying the price for his compliance. Still, he holds onto his phone like a lifeline, opening your chat just to stare at his own words all over again.

Call me, he thinks — rereading the message, living and breathing it, plucking at the bond and hoping you’ll hear. Please call me. Please.

#I said I would post this old thing so 😊#pathetic Lino! yay!#ronverse #words #mh #her notifications are on but her ringer is off. classic

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jadeandroses · 2 days ago

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It is both my pleasure and privilege to finally introduce my fic for the 2025 @sthbigbang, arrow! This fic—featuring Sonic-as-Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, and a surprise character as Guinevere—has been in the making for a literal year, and I’m so happy to finally share it!

I am beyond grateful to my artists, @thefakehedgehogaroundhere and @kogarashi-art, who went absolutely above and beyond anything I could have ever dreamed for this fic. I also can’t thank my beta reader, @kisatamao, enough, and especially for helping me with that ending.

And now that we’re here, I’ve waited long enough. So without further ado…

Ao3 Link: arrow

Kogarashi’s piece: the garden + header + Guinevere collab

Faker’s piece: the blacksmith + Guinevere collab

Enjoy!

Sneak peek:

If it wasn’t for the year he had spent here, upon the throne of Camelot, Sonic didn’t think he would be able to hold in his fury. Even then, he kept sparing glances at the armor of the closest knight, trying to ensure that the rage he felt in his heart didn’t translate a bit onto his face.

Because the chipmunk girl bowing in front of him didn’t deserve that.

(Every last one of his advisors did, though. Privately, he vowed he would save this rage for them. He wondered if his knights would join him.)

With the training of being king, though, he was able to compose himself, and size up the young noblewoman with a keen eye.

She was pretty enough, he supposed. Dark brown fur that highlighted her blue eyes, and red curls all pinned to the top of her head. She wore a dress in bright, baby blue, and it draped onto the floor in a flowy way, like it was meant to catch the breeze. Objectively, it looked absolutely stunning on her, but he started wondering about the meaning behind it. Blue, for her eyes or to match his fur? A dress that could catch the wind, for the one who called himself its knight?

"Rise," he prompted, and the Camelot accent took even greater effort than usual. He had a suspicion, and he needed it confirmed. "No need for formalities. Will you tell me your name again?"

She nodded. "Guinevere, Your Majesty, daughter of Leodegrance."

Suspicion wasn’t enough to prepare him for how his heart dropped like a stone.

>>>———>

Two hours later, he was sitting at a desk in his darkened study, writing out a missive with an ink quill, when Percival walked in. He watched the light of her candle dance, and felt her eyes on him as she sized him up. It was distracting, but a part of him was grateful she didn’t speak.

Finally, though, she gave up, and asked outright, "How did it go?"

He tensed so much the quill in his hand snapped.

Percival cringed. "Oh, dear. That bad?"

"Whose fault was this, anyway?" he groaned.

"Gawain's."

He scoffed. His loyal knight, his closest friend in two worlds, and yet. "Remind me to kill him once this is over."

[Keep reading]

#meet jade #sonic the hedgehog #sonic and the black knight #sth big bang 2025 #jade’s fic

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kikyoupdates · 22 hours ago

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Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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It’s a day just like any other. The sun is slowly creeping up into the sky, the early morning air tastes crisp and sweet, and the roads are still pleasantly quiet.

Today, too, you’re being beat up by your dad.

“Come on, [Name],” Aizawa chuckles. He throws more of his cloths your way, and you just narrowly manage to avoid them before your foot gets snagged. “Is it just me, or are you slowing down?”

You furrow your brows. To be more precise, you aren’t actually being beat up by your dad, but the difference in strength is so staggering that you may as well be.

For the past few years, Aizawa has taken it upon himself to train you in the art of hand-to-hand combat. Your Quirk allows you to regenerate, which is an incredibly useful ability, especially if you ever find yourself in trouble, but you need to have the fighting prowess to match your defensive capabilities.

So, training. You agreed to this long ago, ever since you made up your mind about becoming a hero. Of course, you were just an innocent little kid back then, who clearly didn’t know any better. Now that you’re twelve—practically an adult (in your mind, at least)—you’ve come to understand just how tall of an order it is to keep up with someone like Aizawa.

Put simply, your dad is a badass. You always knew he was, of course, but it’s different when you’re actually facing off against him all by yourself.

Still. No matter how rigorous his training sessions may be, and no matter how exhausted you feel after the fact, you don’t regret your decision even the slightest bit.

In order to become a hero, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“You’re imagining it,” you say, flashing him a lopsided grin. “I think your eyes are drying out again, dad. Do you need me to buy you more eye drops?”

Before he can respond, you kick off the ground and lunge towards him. His reflexes are incredibly sharp, but yours are no joke either. It’s just those damn cloths of his. Not only is he an expert at using them, but the material is incredibly sturdy, and once you’re caught, you have little hope of breaking free.

Aizawa tries to bind you, but you’re fast enough to avoid him yet again. Unfortunately, his attacks don’t stop there, and as usual, it turns out that he’s been going easy on you.

You let out a rather pitiful attempt at a battle cry, gambling everything you’ve got left on one final, reckless kick, but it ends pretty much as expected—with your body tied up against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Shit,” you curse. “I really thought I might be able to land a hit today.”

Aizawa crosses his arms and frowns. “Where did you learn to talk like that? Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap?”

“It’s Katsuki’s fault,” you say, eager to shift the blame. “He swears all the time, and I think it’s rubbed off on me.”

“Him again,” Aizawa sighs. He shakes his head, then bends down to untie you. “Well, it was a good attempt. You’re fast and pretty good at reading my movements, but at the end of the day, you’re just a kid. I’m not so out of touch that I’d lose to you yet.”

“But shouldn’t I have at least been able to land a hit by now?” you whine.

“Of course not. If you had, it would’ve been because I let you hit me on purpose. But I’m not letting my guard down, so that you get a real challenge. It’s the only way you’ll learn.” He pauses for a moment, gathers his cloths back up, then smiles. “You’re only twelve, [Name]. Already, you’ve probably had way more training than any of your peers. Just because you haven’t managed to hit me yet doesn’t mean you’re not strong. Don’t doubt yourself.”

He ruffles your hair, and you have to admit, it helps to soften the blow somewhat. As nice as it would be to be able to say that you’ve won a spar against the famed Eraserhead, at this stage in your life, it probably isn’t realistic. Besides, even after all these years, you still haven’t figured out how to use your other Quirk. That rush of power you felt during the museum attack, and with Dr. Garaki.

You’re not sure what the trigger for it is, but you figure that at some point, you’re bound to figure it out. In the meantime, routinely training your combat skills seems like a pretty safe bet.

“Alright, let’s head home so you can get ready for school,” Aizawa says. Most kids your age would probably be loath to wake up early in the morning to train, but you’re as diligent as they come. Even Aizawa is impressed with how hard you always work.

Sometimes, though, it makes him a bit sad. When he thinks about why you were created, that is.

For obvious reasons, nobody’s told you that you’re an artificial human. Several years have passed, and by now, your memories of Dr. Garaki are rather faint. You’ve never really questioned the circumstances surrounding your background, and over time, you just accepted that you’ll never know who your real parents are, assuming they’re even alive. Your interpretation of the whole thing is the explanation the adults have chosen to go with—that you were the victim of a kidnapping by some deranged scientist who implanted a Quirk in your body.

It’s better this way, though. It’s better for you to feel normal, so that you can have a normal, happy life, like all the other kids.

Even if your origin is undeniably unique, it doesn’t make you any lesser than the others.

However, it certainly doesn’t make things easy either.

You’ve had countless nightmares over the past few years. Similar to the first you ever had, where Dr. Garaki was repeatedly slicing your skin open. Trauma doesn’t fade easily, although the passing of time can certainly help. The nightmares have decreased in frequency as you’ve gotten older, and as your life has become filled with more joy rather than pain.

But just because the nightmares have faded doesn’t mean they’ve disappeared completely.

You still get them sometimes. Recently, however, it’s been less about Dr. Garaki himself, and more to do with that strange voice in your head.

Kill all heroes.

That’s the number one thing you hear. The words repeat themselves, over and over again, like some sort of mantra. Like some strange force that’s seeking to take control of your body.

You don’t like worrying Aizawa or Present Mic, so you make no mention of these dreams. They make no sense, after all. You’re training to become a hero, so why in the world would you want to kill them?

Just like that inexplicable second Quirk of yours, it doesn’t make any sense. But you’re a good kid, and your mental strength is unmatched. You won’t let some silly nightmares get the best of you. No matter how frightening or how real they seem… everything will be fine.

That’s what you’re choosing to believe.

You quickly rid your head of these morbid thoughts and focus on getting ready for school. You hop into the shower, get changed, then meet Aizawa in the kitchen for breakfast.

“You know what would be amazing?” you sigh dreamily. “Burgers for breakfast. I think it’s a fun idea. We should try it from now on, okay?”

Aizawa shakes his head. “Seriously. All these years and you’re still not sick of burgers, even after how many you’ve eaten? I swear you must have had over a thousand by now.”

“How could I ever get sick of the best food in the world?”

“Jeez. But no, burgers are way too heavy for breakfast. In fact, they’re too heavy in general. I really shouldn’t be indulging you so much.”

He brings the pan over and flips some scrambled eggs onto your plate, then sets down a few pieces of toast and a small salad he put together. Unfortunately, it seems like burgers for breakfast will forever remain a fantasy, but Aizawa’s always been pretty good at cooking, so you can’t really complain.

“When I’m an adult,” you say, mouth half-full, “I’m going to cook burgers every single meal of every single day, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“You underestimate the sixth sense parents have for this kind of thing,” Aizawa muses. He leans across the table and flicks you on the nose. “I’ll show up at your house, even as a grumpy old man, and nag you to eat healthy food instead.”

“Aren’t you already a grumpy old man?” you point out. “That’s what Uncle Mic says.”

“[Name], I’m not even thirty years old yet,” he sighs.

“I dunno. That sounds pretty old to me.”

“Cheeky little brat,” he mutters. “Finish your food and leave the sassy remarks for later.”

You giggle, happily stuffing your mouth. You’ve always had a big appetite, so it doesn’t take long for you to polish off your plate and set it aside. Then, you grab your backpack, slip on your shoes, and make for the front door.

“I’m heading out,” you beam. “Don’t miss me too much!”

“I’ll try my best,” Aizawa chuckles. He waves you off with a subtle, yet gentle smile. “Have a nice day. Make sure to stay out of trouble.”

“Pfft. I never get in trouble.”

You flash him one last grin, then set out.

The trip to school isn’t awfully long, and when you step inside the classroom, the very first thing you do is march straight over to your best friend’s desk.

“Izuku! Good morning!”

He jolts to attention, turning towards you with a timid smile. “G-Good morning, [Name]. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you smile. “And I got my usual workout in this morning too.”

“Training with Eraserhead, right? How did it go? Were you… able to land a hit on him this time?”

“I wish,” you sigh dramatically. “He’s way too good at fighting. I seriously wonder if I’ll ever be able to beat him.”

“It’ll happen eventually,” he reassures. “You’re really strong, after all. He’s got the advantage right now because he’s an adult, but you’ll catch up one day. I’m willing to bet on it.”

Your smile widens. Even though several years have passed, Izuku is still the same old sweetheart as always. As a matter of fact, he’s just gotten even kinder over time—something that you didn’t think was even possible.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning over his desk. “By the way, I finally had the chance to watch that new superhero movie that came out, and you were right! It was totally awesome—”

“Get your ass out of my way, loser.”

You’re forcibly cut off mid-sentence by a sudden kick to your rear end, which makes you stumble and collide with Izuku’s desk. You wince momentarily, but you already know who’s to blame before you even look over your shoulder.

Several years have passed, and much like how Izuku hasn’t changed, the same can be said for Katsuki as well.

He’s still a massive shithead.

“My ass wasn’t in your way,” you glare. “Why are you looking at my ass anyways? I’ll tell my dad that you’re a pervert, and then he’ll beat you up.”

Katsuki grits his teeth, cheeks instantly reddening. “Shut up! I obviously didn’t mean it like that, you freak! God. Seeing your face always pisses me off.” He pauses to glance Izuku’s way, then narrows his eyes. “Both of you piss me the hell off. Morons.”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his pants and stomps off, as per usual. By now, you’ve seen this exact scene play out so many times that you’re hardly fazed. You wonder how he has the energy to be so angry all the damn time. It looks exhausting.

“Poor guy,” you say, shaking your head disappointedly. “It must be hard not having anyone who likes him.”

Izuku swallows. “K-Kacchan is really popular, though… so, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. He’s just always been angry. Which you probably already know.”

“Just because people follow him around doesn’t necessarily mean they actually like him,” you counter. “He’s popular, but not in a good way. Everyone knows he has a bad attitude. And I doubt he even considers anyone his friend.”

“I guess… that could also be true.” Izuku hesitates before glancing towards Katsuki’s desk. Thankfully, the blond is looking out the window, because you’re certain he would’ve made some unsavory remark had they locked eyes.

Anyways, Katsuki is much of a pain as always, and you doubt that’ll change anytime soon.

But the hopeful, perhaps naive part of you can’t help but dream of a day when Katsuki will apologize to Izuku, and they’ll finally be on good terms again.

It sounds ridiculously far-fetched, though.

A few more minutes pass, and then the teacher walks into the classroom and gets started with the first lesson of the day. Over the years, you haven’t just trained your body, but also your mind. Even though you were admittedly pretty far behind your peers, your natural intelligence allowed you to learn quickly and catch up, and now, you’re proud to say that you’re the best student in the class.

“Who’d like to come up to the board and solve this question?” the teacher asks, and he makes a big show of pretending to look around the class before smiling and locking eyes with you. “[Name], would you mind?”

You nod, and you’re able to solve the question without much trouble. When you’re done, the teacher congratulates you on always being such a good student, and meanwhile, Katsuki mashes his teeth in frustration.

It’s almost always you who gets called on. Normally, teachers like to give others a chance, or even pick out the weakest links to force them to put in an effort, but since everyone knows you’re smart, the teachers love having you answer their questions. Maybe it makes them feel like they’re doing a good job of teaching the material or whatever. Katsuki doesn’t know the exact reasoning behind it, but either way, it pisses him off.

It wasn’t like this before. Up until you showed up, he was used to always being the best at everything. He had the strongest Quirk, he was the smartest student, and he was pretty much always the hottest topic.

But you took all of that from him. You, with your ridiculously overpowered regeneration, and that impressive incident at the museum—which people still talk about, to this day—with your apparent giftedness and ability to learn faster than anyone else, and with that stupidly carefree attitude, no matter what people say about you.

Katsuki can’t even begin to express how angry you make him. You and that stupid idiot you always hang out with. The bane of his goddamn existence—Deku.

He despises both of you to no end. It actually seems rather fitting that the two of you would band together. It’s almost as if you’re both conspiring against him, to see who can piss him off the most.

Katsuki watches as you take your seat. Some of the students are whispering about you under their breaths, making snide remarks like how much of a goody-two-shoes you are, and how you must be desperate for attention. Unlike Katsuki, you don’t actively intimidate people, which means they aren’t afraid of the repercussions if they gossip about you. Katsuki isn’t a loser, so naturally, he doesn’t partake in said gossip (he’d much rather just insult you to your face), but time and time again, he’s surprised by how little you care.

You don’t care about other people’s opinions. Even if they look down on you or call you all sorts of unpleasant things, you never let it get under your skin.

Even though Katsuki refuses to admit it to himself, part of him secretly envies your mindset. He envies the ability to live your life without constantly comparing yourself to others, like he does.

But since he’s a stubborn, insecure bastard, he’s nowhere near ready to come to terms with how he feels. Which means he’ll keep on doing what he’s been doing until now.

Hating your fucking guts.

“Yay, classes are finally over! Maybe I can convince my dad to take me out to a burger joint for dinner,” you hum.

Izuku chuckles softly. “Nobody loves burgers as much as you do, [Name].”

“I’m a burger fanatic,” you proudly declare. It’s admittedly a strange thing to boast about, but it makes Izuku laugh, which is a victory in itself.

As always, you and Izuku leave school together. You usually walk together for a little while until your paths diverge. Sometimes you go hang out at his place. His mom, Inko, is super nice and has always been incredibly welcoming towards you. Even now, you can still remember the very first time Izuku invited you over, and how ridiculously nervous he was to show you his room.

Izuku’s gone over to your place a few times before too, but it’s usually just easier to go to his house, because, well…

“You want to bring a boy over?”

Aizawa didn’t quite seem like himself when you first breached the topic. In fact, Mic had to grab him by the shoulders to try and pacify him. He was practically blowing smoke out of his nose.

So, yeah. Since Aizawa can be rather overprotective and has a way of intimidating people—even diehard hero fanboys like Izuku—you normally prefer to keep your hangout sessions away from home.

Your phone vibrates, so you pull it out and check your notifications. “Oh. My dad said he got suddenly called in for a job, so I guess no burgers for dinner today. Is it alright if I stay at your place for a while? We can do our homework together.”

“Of course,” Izuku smiles. “You can come over whenever you want. My mom’s always happy to see you.”

“Great! Oh, also, I was watching a video on DIY facial masks the other day, and I really want to try some! Apparently, they leave your skin feeling super-duper smooth. We can make a little spa day out of it!”

Izuku laughs and nods, always willing to keep up with your antics. You walk out of the school building together and head for the front gate, excited about the impromptu hangout session you’ve just put together.

However, someone blocks your path.

“Where are you losers going?” Katsuki glares. “I get sick just watching you two, always giggling like idiots. It’s disgusting.”

One of Katsuki’s thug friends crosses his arms and openly sneers. “Don’t make fun of them, Katsuki. Can’t you tell they’re in love? They’re always making googly eyes at each other. I bet they’ll start blowing kisses next.”

Unsurprisingly, the implication makes Izuku blush and shrink in on himself. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes and sigh heavily.

“You guys are so annoying,” you scowl. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I’m looking forward to my spa day, so please don’t ruin it.”

“Spa day…? What is this stupid girl talking about?”

The two groupies exchange confused looks, and you’re really not sure why they keep referring to you as stupid or idiot when you’ve got better grades than both of them combined.

Katsuki just stands there and keeps glaring at you. As expected, you and that asshole Deku are an infuriating pair. He was already pissed off because of how many questions you solved in front of the class, and how the teacher kept praising you for it, but seeing you and Izuku attached at the hip like this just adds insult to injury. And seriously, did he hear that right? You’re going over to that loser’s house again?

You’ve known Katsuki for just as long as you’ve known Izuku, and yet, even after all these years, the two of you may as well be strangers.

Of course, he’s to blame for it, since he’s treated you like nothing but dirt, but for some reason, it makes his chest tighten.

Not once have you asked to go to his house.

Katsuki clenches his fists. It’s happening again. His face is getting hot, and his stomach feels funny. This only ever happens when you’re involved, and being the stubborn, immature little brat that he is, he can’t make sense of what he’s feeling.

He doesn’t understand what he wants, and it drives him absolutely insane.

Katsuki’s crimson eyes dart towards Izuku, the usual target of his rage. It has to be this asshole’s fault. After all, it just doesn’t make any sense. You might be insufferable, but your Quirk is undeniably strong, so why are you always hanging out with a weakling like him? He must have infected you with his loser genes. Otherwise, you would have chosen to stay by Katsuki’s side all these years. Surely.

Yeah. As expected, everything is always Izuku’s fault.

“Fuck you, Deku,” Katsuki grits out. He forcefully shoves the boy back, hard enough that he topples over and lands on the ground.

You react immediately and rush towards Izuku, ample concern in your eyes.

“Izuku! Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” he reassures. “It didn’t hurt or anything. Let’s just… let’s just go.”

You offer him your hand to hold onto while he stands up, and Katsuki isn’t sure why, but watching you help just pisses him off even more.

All the anger he’s been struggling to suppress over the years is bubbling up to the surface. The fact that you’ve always been so powerful, even as a kid. The fact that even though he thought you were dumb at first, you’re now an even better student than he is. The fact that you choose to spend all your time with Izuku, and now, that shitty nerd actually looks happy for a change.

And worst of all…

The fact that every time you smile, his entire body feels like it’s been set on fire.

It’s too much for someone with an ego as fragile as Katsuki’s to bear. He simply can’t stomach it anymore. He’s angry. He’s so, so fucking angry.

So, he explodes—both figuratively and literally.

Katsuki’s gotten in trouble for using his Quirk on school grounds before, but he doesn’t let that stop him. Without thinking twice, he unleashes an explosion that strikes Izuku right in the face, and the latter splutters weakly from the sudden assault.

But he doesn’t stop there. Katsuki can’t repress his cruelty anymore. In this moment, he’s aching for Izuku to feel the same pain he feels. Not just a physical pain, but something that stems from deep within.

“Don’t believe her lies,” Katsuki grits out. Of course, you’ve since assumed a protective stance and are standing in front of Izuku, trying to block him in case Katsuki strikes again, but you can only shield him from injuries, not words. “She’s lying to you, Deku. Do you really think someone like you can become a hero? Come on. Be realistic. You still have no Quirk. You’ll never have a Quirk. But it’s not just that. You’re spineless and weak. You need a girl to fight your battles for you. Isn’t it obvious that she’s just making a fool out of you? She knows your dream is pointless, so she must think it’s hilarious that you’re still holding out hope. She’s getting a kick out of messing with your head.”

“Izuku, don’t listen to him,” you insist. You turn back to face Katsuki and clench your jaw, eyes darkening. “Stop it. None of what you’re saying is true. Do you enjoy being a horrible person? I seriously don’t understand what’s wrong with you.”

Katsuki doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him either. He’s spent years trying to figure it out. Why does he care about a weakling like Deku, or an annoying girl like you? Everyone is below him. So, then… why should he care so much? Why should he let it bother him?

He really doesn’t understand.

Which makes it even more unbearable.

“You’ll never be a hero,” Katsuki glowers. “Not now, not in a million years, not ever. You’re not a little kid anymore, so how can you keep believing in something so goddamn stupid? It’s embarrassing. I almost feel sorry for you. Everyone else does too. I bet it makes them sick to have to share a classroom with someone like you.”

Izuku whimpers, and despite your insistence that he ignores Katsuki, you realize that’s easier said than done.

“Cut it out,” you warn. “You’re really upsetting him, and you’re upsetting me. Hurry up and apologize. I’m not kidding.”

Katsuki isn’t deterred in the slightest. “I would rather die than ever apologize to a loser like him. He’s pathetic. He may as well be vermin. Isn’t he ashamed, saying that he’ll become a hero when he’s so goddamn weak? I don’t know where he gets the nerve. He’s insulting everyone who actually has a chance.”

You glance back towards Izuku, and to your horror, fat tears have filled his eyes. He’s frantically trying to wipe them away, but Katsuki’s words cut deep, like a knife to the heart. Izuku is a sensitive soul, burdened with unfortunate circumstances beyond his control. He already struggles with self-doubt on a daily basis, and that’s without Katsuki adding fuel to the fire.

So, Izuku cries. He can’t help but cry. He’s still only twelve years old, and the amount of bullying he’s endured from such a young age has undeniably left its mark.

Katsuki knows this. He knows how much pain he’s causing his former friend, and yet, he refuses to stop.

Your temples throb. It feels like your entire stomach has twisted into a knot. The sight of Izuku sobbing like this… it hurts. Your heart aches for him. But it isn’t just sadness that you feel.

You feel anger, too.

“Shut the hell up, Katsuki.” Your shoulders are trembling, and you don’t bother to mince words anymore. You can’t recall the last time he’s spoken to Izuku like this. There have been plenty of unpleasant altercations in the past, but usually, you managed to stop the situation before it got too out of hand.

This time is different.

This time, Katsuki isn’t going to be satisfied until he’s completely torn Izuku down.

“Deku. It’s time to get it through your head already. You’re useless, and weak, and hearing you talk about becoming a hero is the biggest joke I’ve ever heard. When are you going to stop being so stupid? When are you finally going to learn how the world works?” Katsuki takes a step forward, just so that he can stare more closely into Izuku’s wide emerald eyes. “You’ll never amount to anything. You’re not worth anything. So, hurry up and learn your place. And stop dragging [Name] into your mess. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she can’t wait to get rid of you.”

It’s the final nail in the coffin. Izuku’s tears continue pouring down his cheeks, and he can hardly even get a proper breath in between each frantic sob. The worst part is that all you can do is watch. There’s nothing you can say to him at this moment that will magically erase the damage Katsuki inflicted. There’s nothing you can do.

Except direct your anger towards the source.

You feel it again. Even though it’s been a while, this is undeniably the same sensation you’ve felt in the past. Strength is gradually seeping into your limbs, coursing through your veins and pulsing, desperate for release.

It’s the same thing as before. This is the power that allowed you to escape from Dr. Garaki’s clutches. It’s a power that should only be used to punish evildoers.

But right now, it feels like Katsuki is deserving of that punishment.

“I warned you to shut the fuck up,” you seethe. Katsuki reacts by shrugging indifferently, of course, but that’s only because he doesn’t know what’s coming.

In the very next moment, he finds himself on his knees.

Of course, you’re no fool. You aren’t reckless or shortsighted enough to hit him, knowing full well how much damage it can cause. Instead, you pull your punch at the last moment and strike the area just next to him. But the force is enough to shatter the school gate, and it lets out a horrible creaking noise, akin to a wail, as it falls apart from its hinges and collides to the ground.

A dust cloud settles, and all the while, Katsuki is still there, fallen to his knees, unwilling to admit that he’s shaking from head to toe.

For just a moment, he swears he saw his life flash before his eyes.

Just like before, the surge of power you felt is gone. You frown and ponder it for a moment. It almost felt like your sheer anger gave birth to that impressive feat of strength. But you could be wrong. You still don’t completely understand what the trigger is.

But that’s beside the point right now. You cast a glance towards Izuku, who is thankfully no longer crying, but now proceeds to stare at you in bewilderment.

And then you turn back to gaze upon the destruction you’ve just caused. You’ve completely decimated a piece of school property, not to mention the few passerby students who happen to have witnessed the whole thing.

“Make sure to stay out of trouble.”

You suddenly remember Aizawa’s words from earlier, and it’s safe to say that you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.

“Uh oh,” you mutter. “Dad’s gonna be mad.”

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