Steven Grant: How Can I Live Laugh Love In These Conditions 

Marvel: What If be like…

Episode 1: What if Captain America…but girl?

Episode 2: What if Star Lord…but Black Panther?

Episode 3: What if the Avengers died lol

Episode 4: What if the most dark and depressing thing you’ve ever seen from this franchise, sending you into an existential tailspin of horror and despair so you have to just simply sit on the floor for a while and contemplate the futility of your own free will?

Episode 5: What if zombies

Fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time 🎶

THREE'S A HOME — caleb. zayne.

after disaster strikes, your two boyfriends make an unplanned visit to your apartment and together, the three of you redefine what it means to be a home

୨୧───pairings caleb x zayne x you

୨୧───warnings medic combat zayne, fighter pilot caleb, polyamory, threesome (f/m/m), jealousy, blood and injury, unresolved sexual tension, double penetration, nipple play, oral sex, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, anal sex, explicit sexual content, awkward romance, mdni, 18+

୨୧───dawn says applesnow girlies i did this to see something.....

Goddammit. There’s an insane lunatic banging on your apartment door at 4.37AM.

The loud echoes reverberate across the walls, almost shaking your windows, and you jolt straight from bed, shoving your feet into a pair of pink cat slippers as you rush towards the front door.

Caution tells you to make sure the other person at the end wasn’t some psycho-murderous killer, and you peep through the keyhole only to find blank darkness greeting you. 

Huh? Your sluggish, sleep-deprived mind doesn’t register that someone could be covering the peephole, and driven by a lack of self-preservation (read: destructive curiosity), you pry open the door.

Immediately, the scent of blood hits you, and you’re looking right into a pair of frantic emerald-green eyes. 

“We don’t have time to explain—”

Your boyfriend Zayne pushes past you, and in his arms, he’s holding up your other boyfriend who looks like a train has wrecked him—his jacket is torn, duffel bag hanging limply off his shoulder, and… holy shit. Your eyes widen. 

“Caleb! Your shoulder—”

It’s bleeding.

Caleb shoots you a woozy grin as he stumbles past your threshold. “Heyyyy sweet cheeks. Miss us?” 

You stand there for a second, unsure what to do when Zayne hisses, “Close the door!” 

Hastening, you do as he says and slam the door shut. Your hands are shaking, breaths coming out in harsh pants, but this isn’t the time to freak out. From the stormy look on Zayne’s face to Caleb barely holding onto his consciousness, you can guess as much that this little pitstop wasn’t sanctioned by their superiors.

There’s so much you want to ask them—why are they here? Why did they come back? 

Where did they disappear for days without leaving you so much as a goddamn note? 

And, why, in the name of all that is catastrophic, is Caleb wounded? 

Zayne peeks at you over his shoulder, the sleeves of his combat medic jacket rolled up. The camo clashes with his pale pallor, giving him a deathly grimness. “Love, we need you to focus. Can you do that? Can you get a first aid kit?” 

As a doctor, he’s trained to stay calm in these situations, whereas you’re halfway through a hyperventilation party for one. But, he snaps you back to earth, clicking his tongue.

“Focus. First aid kit. Where is it?” 

Your stiff lips move. “Zaynie… I don’t think it’ll help him. How about a hospital—?”

“We can’t,” he snaps, and you’re taken aback. You’ve seen Zayne conduct a risky surgery on a patient with Protocore syndrome right before your eyes once, and even then, he didn’t break a sweat. This Zayne, however, is much shakier—his fingers trembling and mouth parted to drag in shallow breaths.

Something about his insistence makes you think that whatever happened must be too risky to involve officials, and you snap to attention, dashing to your kitchen cabinet and retrieving your stashed first aid kit.

He takes it from you and expertly treats Caleb’s wounded shoulder, starting to sterilize himself. You hover, doing what you can to help him with the immense task—retrieving glasses of water, wiping his sweat with a kitchen towel, holding your tongue to not berate him for his sheer stupidity—

“Almost done,” he murmurs, suturing up Caleb’s wounds. The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air, seeping into the couch and staining the upholstery a murky brown. 

You flicker your gaze towards Caleb, whose eyelids are twitching. He’s pale with pain, barely moving or grunting even as a needle keeps stabbing him. You gently take his face in your hands, cradling it onto your lap as Zayne flashes you an inscrutable look. There’s no time to dig deeper into his inexplorable mood, so you turn your attention to Caleb. 

“Ssh,” you murmur when he whimpers, thick brows furrowed when Zayne starts to close him up. You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to soothe him and take his mind off the huge gash slowly being patched up.

When Zayne is done, you don’t move, needing to assess Caleb. Your hands travel over his broad chest, gently ghosting over the sutured wound, your Resonance helping to alleviate his pain. 

You glance down at him, and he’s giving you an exhausted smile. 

“Where’d ya learn to do that?” 

You hum. “Tara’s been teaching me how to control my Evol and focus it on a main anchor,” you continue, “Since the goal is to speed up your healing, I’m resonating with your body’s blood cells to duplicate the clotting faster.”

Caleb winces. “Feels like a bunch of little fingers in me,” he complains.

From the corner of the room, you hear Zayne heave in a disgruntled sigh.

“What you’re doing is dangerous,” your older lover berates, stepping in to plead for you to cut it out. “If anyone from the medical field found out—”

“They won’t,” you reassure. “No one knows about the extent of my Evol’s abilities besides you two and Tara. Swear it.”

Zayne opens his mouth as if to argue, and considers against it, shutting his trap and fixing you with an icy stare.

“You opened the door for us without even asking who we were. While no instance has been given to warrant such caution, you must be more alert, darling. What if it could be someone else?” 

You huff and glare at him. “If you’re so hellbent on following protocol and procedure, why bother showing up to my apartment in the first place?” 

Caleb snickers. “Oh, she got you there, Doc.”

The good doctor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I had no choice. This buffoon—” he glares at the younger, dark-haired man, “—left his post after an ambush to search for me in the medical tent. He said, and I quote, ‘I had to check if you’re alright or else our girl is gonna be mad at me’.” Zayne sighs and shakes his head. “The whole infantry was in a panic. We stowed away and managed to drive off with a spare G-Hummer.” 

You gape, turning your wide eyes to Caleb. “You abandoned your post?” 

Caleb, realizing the heat is now on him, tries to defend himself. “You guys have it all wrong! I didn’t abandon it… took a little detour, s’all,” he grouses, and you have a feeling he knows something neither you nor Zayne knows.

Gripping his chin, you force him to look at you. “Caleb, what you did is irresponsible. You could be suspended—”

“Look,” he urges, shifting his violet eyes to Zayne, a maelstrom of emotion behind them that reminds you of a storm coming. “I know things—I heard them. There might be an attack in Linkon City. It’s why I broke formation and came here—” he winces, “—yeah, it’s a death wish for my career, but I couldn’t just let Pipsqueak be defenseless!” 

Zayne glances at you, and then back at the younger man. “There is going to be an attack?” 

His nebulous violet eyes grow a shade less lucid, and he mumbles his warning, the loss of blood and exhaustion catching up to him. “Potential… Wanderer explosion… new rift in the Deepspace tunnel—”

Caleb’s head slumps and he’s out cold. 

“Shit.” You pat his cheek. “Caleb? Caleb!”

“Let him rest,” Zayne advises, crossing his arms. You don’t see it in the dim lights of your apartment, but there’s a gash on his upper arm, too. The camo does a better job of hiding it than Caleb’s uniform. “His blood loss isn’t too bad, and he should be fine in the morning.” 

He grunts, and you glance at him in worry. “Darling? Are you alright?” 

Zayne waves off your concern. “Go to bed, love. I’ll be fine.”

Barely giving you time to argue, he disappears into the second room, closing the door behind him. A cold eddy stirs from his sudden departure, and you shiver, biting your lower lip. You want to go to him and ask if he’s alright, but Caleb needs you. Zayne’s already done his part to patch him up—now, all he needs is your tender love and attention.

Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on Caleb’s forehead. “Sleep well, gege,” you murmur, “You’re safe here.”

Morning rays filter weakly past the translucent kitchen blinds.

Zayne wakes up and panders out into the living room to find Caleb holding you fast to his chest, his lips drawing a flirtatious line down your throat to your clavicle, your giggles rebounding back to him like a fresh slap in the face. His nostrils flare, and he watches the two of you for a moment, feeling the old green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head again. Not one to reminisce on emotions and instead focus on facts, the brilliant doctor can’t help but understand you come from a world where no one existed to you but Caleb—the boy turned man who’s been by your side through thick and thin.

How he came to be this lucky to get back into your life, Zayne would never fathom. He doesn’t understand what you see in him, not when your Caleb exists in the same reality as you. 

As if you can hear the self-hating thoughts emanating from him, you lift your head from Caleb’s chest, fixing him with a gentle smile that reaches into the depths of his chest and squeezes his lungs together in a tight hug. 

“Good morning, you. C’mere.”

You open your arms to him, and he shifts his gaze to the mercurial purple hues gauging his next reaction. Caleb doesn’t welcome him, but he doesn’t reject him either.

Zayne’s first instinct is to decline your offer, putting up an emotional distance between you and Caleb. But, months of being together with you, and by extension, Caleb himself, chips at his icy self-restraint. He allows such foolish tides to ravage his curiosity, as he slowly advances towards the two of you like a researcher approaching his most studied test subjects.

Caleb’s brow dents, a fraction of his displeasure showing through his unflappable countenance, though he knows better than to let you see it.

You grab him by his arm and tug him onto the couch, squeezing yourself between the two men. You snuggle into his chest while your arms are tight around Caleb, pressing the younger man’s cheek against your shoulder. The effect nearly makes Zayne snort with irony—he looks like he’s cradling two huge babies in his arms.

“Pipsqueak, we need a bigger couch,” Caleb grumbles.

You have to agree. 

Due to the lack of space, your quick shift brushes on Zayne’s injured arm from the night before, and his loud hiss catch both of your attention.

“Zayne?”

“Four eyes—what’s wrong?” 

He winces and grits his teeth to keep from grunting in pain. “It’s fine—”

“Ha. Fat load of a huge lie. You’re bleeding, Li Shen ge,” Caleb points at a spot of blood steadily growing bigger, staining his grey shirt fast. 

Caleb is the first to get up and take the first aid kit, his bare back rippling under the low morning light. Zayne’s eyes track him, like a stag studying his rival’s motions, wondering why he’s being this nice. It can’t be because of you. They’ve both established months ago before this… arrangement… that they would try to be civil with one another, but not go the extra mile unless you requested it.

But, you haven’t said a word, and Zayne is sure he’s about to burst a vein in his temple when Caleb tosses him the first aid kit with a too-wide smirk. “Can’t be too careful so I’m leaving it up to the expert—you are a doctor, after all.”

The hint of jealousy isn’t hard to detect in his tone. But, neither you nor Zayne says a word. You toss Caleb a glare and pick up the white box, opening it to tend to Zayne’s gash. Out of the corner of his eye, Zayne senses a pervasive, possessive energy. Caleb’s eyes barely leave you, and even though he tries to play it cool by popping a can of apple soda and hiding his glare behind the metal rim, Zayne can see through him like they were kids all over again. 

When you three were younger and played house, Caleb would try to wrestle the designation of ‘husband’ from him, but because Zayne was older, you insisted he play the role of the man of the house while Caleb… Zayne tries not to smirk at the fond memory.

Caleb would play the role of the house dog.

“What’s so funny?” 

Zayne chuckles softly before he can help himself. Caleb eyes him skeptically, and he resists the urge to shoot the other man a bland look.

“Just… recalling some fond recollections of us when we were younger.” Zayne rarely speaks about their shared past, and it takes both you and Caleb off guard. “You and I would play husband and wife whenever we got together at the playground,” he slid his cool, emerald gaze towards Caleb. “And, he’d be the dog.”

The other dark-haired man guffaws, and you’re oblivious to how tightly he’s gripping his can of apple soda. “Funnyyy. As I recall, you also left ‘home’ quite often to work, leaving me, the dog at home with her,” Caleb sneers, and the insinuation isn’t lost on Zayne. While both of them work intensive, high-risk jobs, it’s Caleb who often makes the arduous trip back home, no matter how long and tedious his missions are. He can never stay far from you. But, Zayne’s job demands are different. 

He could be pulled away in the middle of dinner, or the middle of the night with little to no heads up, and his hours as a surgeon are erratic and unpredictable. While Caleb gloats, you bandage his wound and tug on it, tightening the makeshift tourniquet. Deciding to ignore the younger man, Zayne turns his attention to you. “Thank you, darling.”

Caleb rolls his eyes at the pet name. 

“Come on. I’m starving and you two are making me want to explode for the second time.” He grumbles as he plucks some eggs from the fridge and a couple of fresh tomatoes. As he makes breakfast, Caleb whistles, intercepting any peace that could descend between you and Zayne. After a quiet meal of scrambled eggs, tomatoes, and some leftover chicken congee, you’re resting on the couch when the surgeon approaches him quietly.

“Did Heath say anything?” 

Despite their animosity when it comes to you, Caleb and Zayne work surprisingly well on the field together. The younger man shakes his head. “Nada. Radio silence.”

Zayne stays quiet for a moment, hands tightening around his coffee cup. “It cannot be a coincidence. The second the alarm sounded, it’s as if—”

“—everything went into a frenzy,” Caleb finishes for him. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, and Zayne notices the sutures on his skin straining.

“You’re supposed to cover them up,” Zayne heaves a deep sigh and puts his mug down. He retrieves the now well-acquainted first aid kit and removes a roll of bandages. Caleb doesn’t argue when he starts to tend to him—in fact, it’s the quietest the fighter pilot has been since returning to Linkon.

Once Zayne is done, he debates returning to work, when a small whimper from the couch catches both men’s attention. 

Caleb is the first to run to you, always offering himself on the frontline when it comes to your safety and happiness. He gently shakes your shoulder, his free hand brushing through your hair and smoothing the crease in between your brows. Zayne hovers behind him, looking at you with equal worry, though he restrains himself from overwhelming you.

It’s clear you had a bad dream, and when your tear-filled eyes meet Caleb’s, you hiccup a sob.

The effect instantly softens the younger man, who bundles you in his muscular arms and holds you tightly to his broad and bare chest. 

“Ssh. S’okay, Pips. S’okay. I’m here.”

Zayne quietly fetches you a glass of water, and you take it with a slight nod, sipping on the cool liquid as you get used to your bearings again. Embarrassed they caught you doing something this vulnerable, you throw caution to the wind and set the glass down, wrapping your arms tighter around Caleb.

The air trembles with a stillness that reminds him of a bated breath. 

Your lips are the first to seek Caleb’s, and his chest squeezes. Zayne turns away when the younger man deepens the intimate contact, trying to hide how painfully hard his chest is squeezing. Jealousy is a foreign concept to the brilliant surgeon, but when it makes its mark, he suddenly finds its serrating edge digging into him like a rusted knife.

That is until you break apart from Caleb and reach out to grab his hand. 

Your intention is clear: I need you, too. I need both of you. 

Caleb’s shoulders are tense, but he doesn’t outright deny your silent request. He turns to you, and you turn to the surgeon, imploring him to be the one to break this tie—to finally give the three of you a chance to take this leap of faith.

Zayne hesitates for a second, his emerald eyes burning. He wants this—of course, he wants you. He can never say ‘no’ to you. But… his eyes meet a pair of pensive, lilac ones. Does he want Caleb the same way? 

It’s far too early in the morning to have a sexuality crisis. But, when Caleb rolls his eyes at his stagnation, it ignites something deeper inside Zayne’s chest. Something primal.

He’s always seen Caleb as a comrade. Sometimes a rival.

And, maybe, he might be persuaded to change his mind on the notion of Caleb as a ‘lover’. 

The atmosphere warbles with a sense of anticipation, and you look from one man to the other, waiting for them to end this stalemate and just fuck you. 

To your surprise, it’s Zayne that makes the first move. He leans in close, cool lips pressing to the juncture of your neck, working his way to your pulse point and leaving a trail of hot, needy kisses on your warming skin. Not one to be outdone, Caleb joins in, his kisses on the other side of your neck making your core clench, a shiver of heat running up your spine. The sensation of two men licking and sucking down your neck and jaw fills you with a flash of pure, hedonistic greed. Their bodies press closer, almost smothering you with their combined heat. 

Sharp pain blooms from where their teeth dig into your sensitive skin, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You need them both, parched for their affection and attention.

Caleb grunts when Zayne tangles a hand in your hair, tipping your head up further to give them better access to your neck. A warm tongue runs down the side of your throat, dipping to your clavicle where a necklace with an apple charm and snowflake pendant dangle enticingly.

Quick hands make quicker work of your clothes, shedding them to the floor, leaving you in just a pair of ratty, old cotton panties.

Caleb’s palm trickles down the terrain of your stomach, and slips under the loosening band, finding you soaked all the way through for them. He gathers the oozing droplets of glistening juices, smearing it all around your sweetly trembling clit, watching with hooded eyes as you tremble and gasp. 

Zayne takes your tits, his slightly cooler mouth trailing across the plush flesh, leaving goosebumps in the wake. Ahh-mhmm, you moan when his tongue starts to flicker over your right nipple in fast, little licks, before enveloping the whole of his mouth around the juicy mound, his other hand busy tweaking your other nipple. 

Somehow, the small couch doesn’t break from the combination of all three of your bodies on it. Even if it did, you’re hard-pressed to care—not when Zayne hooks your thigh over his, and Caleb spreads your other. There’s only a flimsy barrier left keeping your precious cunt from their prying fingers, tongues, and cocks, and like bloodhounds, your two lovers zero in on their target.

It was a mistake to take both a talented surgeon and a brilliant fighter pilot into your sheets. They’re relentless—precise. Neither Caleb nor Zayne would stop until they leave you a quivering, well-fucked mess.

Caleb tears your panties off, and in a swift motion, kneels onto the floor, as Zayne continues to play with your cherry blush tips, working your nipples to stiff points with his fingers and tongue. It’s all a hazy blur.

You feel Caleb’s tongue part through your folds, messily lapping you up like you’re the fountain of life and he’s been starved of manna for too long. 

Zayne groans around the plushness of your luscious tits in his mouth, his hard-on making an imprint on your hip. You grind back on him as Caleb spears you through with his tongue, sampling you with the finesse of a foodie consuming his favorite cunt. He starts to swirl his tongue on your clit. Zayne bites down on your left nipple.

A pleasure, frenzy cry flies from your lips. You gasp and writhe like a worm on hot concrete, feeling a pair of slender, scarred fingers slipping into your mouth, forcing you to choke on their impeccable length. You’re oozing all over Caleb’s chin. 

This scene is too taboo—too erotic. Two men, equally sculpted by the gods, pleasuring you like you’re a deity on the altar. You feel like you’re on the verge of the biggest orgasm of your life. Close is never close enough when it comes to Caleb and Zayne. 

Caleb moans and the vibrations send a shockwave through your entire body. Zayne massages your chest, taking care to nip and suck on your neck, too, his large palm sliding up your thighs.

 Not content to use his tongue, Caleb starts to employ his fingers. You sometimes forget how big he is. Though no match for his cock, his fingers are equally as formidable. Slender and nimble, with precision from his years of handling guns, he hooks around your cunt, fingers drumming into that sweet spot that makes your toes curl. From the root of your womb to your clit, you’re tensing. Zayne notices your thighs shaking and hums. He gently rolls your nipples, tugging on them lightly, and pinching the blushing buds.

“She’s close,” he observes. 

Endless streams of moans and whines slip from your swollen lips. You’re cross-eyed, gripping onto Zayne’s wrist with one hand and the other clutching onto Caleb’s hair. Your older brother figure moans into your folds, while your childhood friend flicks his wrist, pinching down harder on your throbbing nipples. You lurch forward, unable to stifle a loud cry, and like a burst of flames, you alight, your orgasm washing over you in tremendous waves.

Caleb doesn’t stop eating you out, and Zayne captures your lips with his, needing to taste your surrender right on his tongue. You jerk like a puppet on strings and whine right into the heat of Zayne’s mouth. The stimulation is too much—all at once. Caleb peppers kisses on your thighs and he glances at you, catching your eye, licking his glistening lips.

“Good girl.” Zayne praises you in a low, husky voice. “Came so well for us… now, it’s time for you to return the favor.”

He puts you on his lap, yanking his sweatpants down impatiently. Caleb positions his bigger build behind you, slotting his thighs around Zayne’s, taking up the rear—literally. His kisses brush your shoulder, and you turn back to catch his lips in a sensual, slow kiss where your tongues tangle together in a heated dance.

“Nmh—princess,” Caleb groans, running his hands up and down your sides.

Thank goodness for sturdy, wide couches. Zayne maneuvers you to sink on him, your previous release making you slick enough to take him right to the hilt. In your periphery, you hear Caleb grabbing a plastic bottle, and popping the lid. Cool, slippery lube drips between your cheeks, and you feel the head of his cock prepping to sink inside of your other untameable entrance. 

You shiver at the feel of him, and he growls under his breath. “Fuck—so tight.” 

The sound of Caleb cursing makes you clench down on Zayne, who also curses, and you whine. “Please,” you breathe, “Please take me—”

It's a tangle of limbs and messy kisses. Zayne kisses you. Caleb takes his turn. Both their lips also meet, with you smack in the middle to witness the sight of them French-kissing each other in sheer desperation. 

God, you groan inwardly. That’s fucking hot. 

You’re so full. Where Zayne begins, Caleb ends, and you feel them rubbing against each other. In and out. Over and over again. 

Until the sofa begins to creak. The room starts to spin. You’re clinging onto Zayne for dear life while Caleb looms behind you, his hands digging into your hips. He’s using his Evol to steady himself against falling backward. Mean and fast, his tip batters into your upper rim, while Zayne makes the concave of your pussy his home, his mushroom head bouncing against your cervix in firm plap plap plaps. “Fucckk,” Caleb drawls, smearing a messy kiss into the crook of your neck. He whines and flinches, teeth digging into the soft skin of your pliable, oh-so-defenceless neck. 

“Baby, you taste so fucking sweet,” he growls into your ear, “F-fucck, sweetness, I could eat you up for days.” 

“She’s perfect,” Zayne grits out, pumping his hips in a frenzy, pushed right to the edge; his eyes darkened and dewy with lust. “Ah, shit—” he bites out. His plush lips razor through your paper thin skin, bringing a bloom of heat developing on your already decorated neck. 

Over and over, they consume you. 

“S’good girl,” Caleb babbles right into the crook of your neck, every pump of his thrusts filling you deeper and deeper till you’re stuffed. Gritting out, he bites down on your jugular, nasty and hard, “Such a fucking good girl for us, baby.” His eyes transfix on your pretty lil’ hole stretching out on his cock, how you’re so good for the both of them—taking two thick dicks like a champ. His nostrils flare, and he gulps down a lungful of your sinful fragrance, catching Zayne’s eye.

“Looks like our little princess has been practicin’.”

The older man mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a low, drawn out fucckkk. Goody-two shoes Zayne, swearing, was not on Caleb’s bingo card for the year. But, shit—he can’t blame the Doc. Your pussy is a vice grip, making sweet, little squelches, a symphony he can never get enough. 

Zayne pitches his head forward to lap and suck your neck, while Caleb slips his hands between your thighs to move his fingers against you, rubbing firm circles that have you seeing stars. 

In a matter of minutes, the coil tightens again. 

You tense and cry out, a trickle of treacly drool dripping down your chin. 

A warm tongue laps it up, and your head is bent back, almost poltergeist style, as Caleb slurps on your tongue and moans. Zayne busies himself in between your plush tits, leaving bite marks on them. You’re folding—fast. The tension snaps like a band.

You’re gushing and creamin’ all over, a bit of squirt getting on Zayne’s abdomen and trickling down to Caleb’s thighs. Thick arms wrap around your neck, putting you in a headlock as he thrusts into you hard and fast, their tips bumping deep inside of you. Zayne feels Caleb past the flimsy barrier of your canals, and it would’ve been gross if it didn’t feel so… right. 

The ends of his ears scorch with a blushing intensity, and Zayne looks as if he’s just imbibed a sip of alcohol. Dazy-eyed and with his brows furrowed together, the sight of his unhinged and lustful expression makes you want to come again. Caleb grunts into your ear, and he tips your head back, letting you come face to face with the dark desire in his gaze—waiting to just devour you. 

“Shit.”

“Oh, baby—”

In a fit of simultaneous need, the two men explode deep inside you, filling you up to the brim with warmth. It triggers your own smaller release, and by the time the world stops spinning, you’re lying on a broad chest with someone’s arms wrapped around you. 

Caleb tightens his grip while Zayne buries his face in your hair. 

Miraculously, the sofa manages to hold all three of you. Really—whoever hates Ikea doesn't know the wonders of a Jattebo for threesomes. 

“You okay, love?” Zayne whispers into your neck, and you sigh, nodding. Caleb kisses the top of your head, and in your periphery, he reaches over and twines his fingers with Zayne’s. 

The subtle gesture of affection and acceptance is all you need.

As the morning gives way to the afternoon, you find solace in the comfort of the two men you will forever love. 

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

finally I got them all

Teddy Bear

Kento Nanami x F!Reader

Where your relationship with Nanami took a sharp turn due to one incident.

WARNINGS: arguing, injuries, a bit of spoiler in gojo's past arc, at the end nanami said 'gaslight, gatekeep' but he didnt allow u to girlboss

i like this request lmao. i have no clue if this is good cause i really just typed whatever was in my mind at the moment but here ya go!

MASTERLIST

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It goes without saying that every human lives with many regrets weighing down their hearts, some are light and simple things such as regretting not to wear a certain color of clothing today, while some are as heavy as regretting certain actions that changed their lives for the worst. You weren't an exception to this; many past decisions you have are still weighing you down even though you still stand tall when facing challenges in life. But of course, many doesn't mean all, and you have just as many decisions that you are proud of just as much as those you've come to regret.

One of the things that fall into the former is your decision to have a relationship with Nanami Kento.

Kento was the best thing that ever came into your life, and you knew you would have regretted it had you given up the first time he rejected you—he didn't reject you because he doesn't feel the same, he does, but he still rejected you because of your occupations as Jujutsu Sorcerers. Much to Kento's annoyance, however, you were one persistent little pest that wouldn't stop bothering him, but it all worked out in the end as he finally caved in and the past few years had been the best years of both of your lives.

A perfect relationship is something that does not exist, and as much of a husband and boyfriend material your Kento is, he still has his faults and so do you. Every relationship goes through bumps, and yours and Kento were no exception. You had your fair share of arguments—playful and serious ones—but you both always managed to go through them with your love for each other unscathed and still stronger than ever.

Tonight is an example of that.

As Jujutsu Sorcerers, it was no surprise that the two of you live very busy lives, contacting each other during missions is not a good thing either as one wrong move could cause either of you your lives but still, amidst your busy lives, you both still made time for each other every now and again. You both made it a point that if possible, the last thing you'll both see before you go to bed and the first thing you both see every morning would be each other.

It seems that may have slipped Kento's mind.

You were okay with it for the first week, going a week without seeing each other wasn't unusual for you. The second week, you started to feel sad at the empty space next to you before you go to bed, hoping to feel his warmth in the morning only to be greeted by the cold room when you open your eyes. By the time the third week rolled around, you started raising your brow at the short responses Kento sends you whenever you ask him what's up, as well as the scarcity of affection you have been receiving from him. Before you knew it, a whole month went by with you barely even getting a glance at your boyfriend.

You knew you should just go to bed, that you were too emotional to think right now and Kento would probably be too tired to hold a proper serious and possibly emotional conversation about him being too distant lately, but you were too annoyed to even listen to reason right now.

And that's what brought the two of you here right now, in the living room, arguing in the middle of the night.

"You knew what we were getting ourselves into," Your boyfriend reminded you, "I can't just drop everything to run into your arms."

"You're talking as if I want to hog every minute of your every day!" you bit back, "Five minutes of your day, Hell- not even five minutes! Even just a peck before you leave me, that is all I ask!"

"I've been trying, everything has just been so busy that I don't have time for anything else besides the mission."

"I'm your girlfriend, Kento!"

"Maybe this is why I didn't want you to be!"

In all your years of being together, even though this wasn't the first time you had an argument, Kento had never yelled at you, which made you question yourself now as you didn't know which hurts more; his words or the loud voice and the tone he used when he said it?

Your silence snapped him out of whatever rage-filled stupor he has been in. He had just been so tired and stressed lately that he's not acting like his normal, calm self as of the moment—but that's irrelevant, there's no excusing the words he already said. He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose in hopes of stopping his already raging headache from getting any worse before opening them again. His exhaustion was evident in his mahogany eyes as he approaches you, his hands reaching out to hold yours in his.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash my stress out on you." His voice was low as he genuinely apologized,

"I know. It's okay, I didn't take it to heart." You lied, which your boyfriend immediately saw through from the way he scrunches his brow in worry and his lips turn down into a frown.

He lets out an exasperated sigh as one of his hands left yours in favor of placing them on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the apples of your cheeks as he looks down at you with as much affection as he could muster.

"We're both too emotional right now, and it's already late. You should go to bed." For the first time that month, you finally feel the familiar warmth of his lips as he presses a kiss against your forehead, "We'll pick this conversation up tomorrow. I'll take the couch."

A part of you wanted to tell him to still sleep in the same bed as you, but you knew you both needed some time to yourselves to think first and so, you didn't fight him on it. You nod at him in acknowledgment before separating yourself from him, making your way back to your room but not before stopping to tell him one last thing.

"I made dinner, it's in the fridge. Should I reheat it for you?"

"No, I can manage. Thank you."

You nod again and stay in place for a few seconds, the two of you just staring at each other. You were waiting for him to say something, but you weren't quite sure what. When you saw that he was starting to get concerned by you just standing there, you speak up once again,

"Good night."

"Good night," he responds, but you still feel like there's something missing from his response.

You eventually decided to just shrug it off before dragging yourself back to your room, allowing yourself to wallow in your own emotions and prepare yourself for the confrontation the next morning—if he's even around when the morning comes.

-

When Nanami opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that his head was throbbing in pain, and the uncomfortable, numb pain located at his lower back and around his shoulders from sleeping on the couch. The next thing he noticed is the pain medication and the glass of water situated on the coffee table where the bottle of liquor that he drank last night should be. He squints his eyes and takes the medication along with the glass of water that you so kindly provided to him before picking up the note you left behind.

He can't help the frown making its way on his face at the content of the note written in your handwriting; You apparently received a call very early in the morning that you were urgently needed somewhere, and that the talk you both needed to have will need to wait until you get home. He sighs worriedly, you were up until late last night, did you even get any sleep before they decided to call you?

As he places the note back where he picked it up from, he made a mental note to try and talk to someone about calling you when it's not within work hours and when you were trying to get some rest. Feeling the headache dissipate slowly but surely, the blonde reaches out for his phone to check the time. He still has time before work starts, as he didn't need to come in early today—maybe today he can wait for you to wake up and-

Oh. Right.

The frown he already had deepened as he realized, he usually gets to bed so late (much to his annoyance) that you were already asleep and wakes up so early that you were still asleep so he still had the luxury of having you by his side before he sleeps and when he awakes. If this is how you felt the past month, then he needs to do some serious apology and truly make it up to you.

Finding no reason to stay since you weren't around anyway, he eventually got up from the couch to get ready for the day.

Nanami's day was fairly boring but productive since he already finished his month-long mission yesterday, he's only left with paperwork now—paperwork that he could finish easily but he ended up typing slower than usual because he has yet to receive a message from you saying you already finished your mission and you're already on your way back.

-

Your boyfriend quietly chuckles at your impeccable timing, seeing your name flashing from his phone along with the selfie of you flashing a peace sign next to his sleeping form—a photo you have taken when you both went on a mission before you got together, Nanami was so tired that he had fallen asleep on the drive back and you stole his phone, took pictures and set this one as his phone's wallpaper. It was the same picture that made him realize just how attracted he was to you so he set it as your contact photo, something to remind him constantly of just how much he adores you.

With a poorly hidden smile on his face, he picks up the phone, about to ask why you called instead of texting when a male voice came through instead of yours.

"Nanami-san?" It was Ijichi, and he sounded nervous, even borderline scared which confused the blonde, "I'm at the school right now, Shoko-san is on her way and-"

"Ijichi.. Why do you have my girlfriend's phone?" Nanami's voice was stern and commanding, but he can feel himself faltering and his heart wanting to beat right out of his chest.

Nanami's hearing had started to fail then, and he could only catch glimpse of Ijichi's words, his brain running too fast that he wasn't able to comprehend the words being said to him.

Something happened. His beloved is injured. Ijichi applied first aid. Shoko is on her way. His girlfriend is not responsive.

His girlfriend is not responsive.

Never in Kento Nanami's life had he ever hung up so fast, leaving his spot and running out to drive to Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School as fast as he possibly could. His knuckles are turning white from how tightly he's gripping the wheel and he couldn't hear himself think, the sound of traffic sounded muffled and distant from him and the only thing he could hear is the rapid sound of his heartbeat and a persistent ringing sounding in his ears.

And when he finally got to where you currently were, fighting for your life and waiting for a reverse cursed user to show up, he immediately felt his knees buckle at the sight of you.

The unmistakable smell of iron hit Nanami in full force, the familiar crimson caking the side of your face and overpowering the color of your clothing. One look at you was all it takes and all of a sudden he was blown back to a decade ago, he's stronger now, he's Grade 1 sorcerer for Pete's sake! But he still feels as helpless now as he had before, reduced to nothing as he looks at his best friend laying, unresponsive from not so far from him.

Before he would approach your body, wanting to check for himself if you still had a pulse, he felt someone pull him aside and out of the room. He was so out of it and his gaze is so blurry that he couldn't recognize who it was, nor can he understand what they were trying to say, but the unmistakable smell of cigarettes makes him guess that Shoko has already arrived to help you.

He sat down on the floor next to the door, his head leaned back against the wall and his eyes squeezed shut. Ijichi looks at him with a frown, Nanami hadn't even realized that he spoke his questions out loud, and the next thing he knew, Ijichi was already answering his question.

"A first-grade sorcerer was urgently needed, she was the only one to take the call..."

This is why he left this job in the first place.

"...There was a civilian that was left there, and she wanted to protect them but didn't have time for any other choice..."

This is why he didn't want to fall in love.

"...She took the hit to save them."

This is why Jujutsu Sorcerers are shit.

"Gojo-san took the mission..." Ijichi speaks unsurely, standing quite a few feet away from Nanami.

The blonde couldn't help but chuckle at this, eyes still squeezed shut, arms placed on top of his knees as he clenches his fist tightly, letting the words he said all those years ago slip out from his mouth once again.

"Why not just let him take care of everything by himself from now on?"

The sight of Haibara's corpse flashes through his mind.

This will just keep on happening again and again, even if you come out of this fine, it will just happen all over again. He needed to put a stop to it, he needed to find a way to make sure that he will never lose anyone important to him ever again—that he'll never lose you, the only girl he will ever love.

Something snapped inside Nanami then.

-

The moment you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was your boyfriend by your side, and since then he rarely left. He insisted on having you rest for now and even did your paperwork for you, his beady brown eyes watching closely as you move your hands to sign the documents he typed out for you to be given to the higher-ups.

He was being his usual sweet self, albeit a bit protective and a bit more worried about you than usual. You both did eventually have that talk you've been meaning to have and he apologized for neglecting you, promising he'll do better next time and you knew he meant it. The first step he took upon the long list of things he planned to show you that he really was sorry was the month-long leave he got the both of you—maybe you really should have looked over the papers Nanami gave you first before signing them.

During the said break, you've been receiving messages of surprise from your co-workers, some even bidding your farewell which you quite found weird. It was only a month's leave, what got their panties up in a twist?

Gojo suddenly appeared in your shared home in hysterics, which, in all honesty, isn't all that weird for your friend and co-worker.

"Do you not love me anymore?!" Was the first thing he asked of you, throwing his arms around your neck as if he was your lover trying to stop you from walking out the door, "Why are you pulling a Nanamin? Why are you leaving me?!"

Of course, was the first thing you thought. Of course, Gojo Satoru would throw a tantrum over a month's leave.

You didn't have to turn around to know that Nanami is already rolling his eyes at his senior's antics and you can only sigh, rubbing your temple to stop the headache that's already starting to creep through the back of your head. The said blonde suddenly approaches you, removing the other's arms around you, and you didn't see it, but he was glaring at the sorcerer way harsher than usual.

Almost as if he was trying to kill Gojo with just a stare.

"That's enough, Gojo. She needs rest." Nanami told him with a hard tone, almost as if he was commanding the white-haired sorcerer while guiding him out the door.

"But Na-"

Nanami slammed the door right to the other man's face.

You only shrugged it off right then, not thinking much of it and just happy that you get to spend a whole month with just your boyfriend after missing him for so long. You didn't have the time for anything else that whole month too as every time you tried to leave, Kento would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer to him, stating that "I just really missed you" and "I wanted to make it up to you for neglecting you.", every time someone showed up in your shared home, he kept telling you to drive them away and every time someone calls your phone, he was quick to snatch it up and distract you with cuddles and kisses.

Your ignorance only came back to bite you when you tried to go to work after that month and after Nanami left for a quick mission. You were hoping to get another mission as you felt like you were getting rusty after a month of not killing curses, but were surprised at the sight of your other co-workers looking at you weirdly.

"Hey, are you here to visit? Or do you miss being a sorcerer already?" One of your close acquaintances teases you, which only made you even more confused.

"What?"

"What? You already resigned, didn't you?" They ask, confused by your confusion. "You even sent Nanami to give your resignation letter along with the last of your paperwork for your last mission. The higher-ups weren't pleased, but it's not like they can force you to stay."

Needless to say, another fight broke out that night the moment your beloved boyfriend got home.

"I'm protecting you," He told you,

"You're not protecting me, Kento, you're trying to control my life!" You bit back, "Who gave you the right to write out my resignation letter for me and make me believe it was paperwork so I would sign it!"

"See? You didn't even notice something as simple as that," He pointed out, "You're too dumb, too soft to even survive out there."

"What the.. What are you talking about?"

"I'm trying to- no, I am protecting you." Kento approaches you, his hands reaching out to hold yours. His gentle grip immediately tightened enough to the point that it was starting to hurt. "If I need to lock you in here, isolate you from everyone else to make sure you're safe, I will."

Goosebumps rise on your skin, the usual tenderness, and warmth of his gaze replaced with cold determination as he glares back at you. The man who stood before you now is not your Kento, it's like he's a whole different person entirely making you instinctively pull your hands from his grip.

"You're hurting me, Kento. Let me go." You said, trying your best to make your voice sound leveled. Your mind already running in laps as you assess the situation.

You can't use brute force to get away from him as Kento is stronger than you, you need to find a different approach- a different tactic. Maybe you can manipulate him into letting go of you before grabbing your phone on the coffee table and calling someone—perhaps, Satoru?

"No." His voice was firm, his decision final. "I'm not letting you run away from me."

Those were the last words you heard, his fist being the last thing you see as darkness enveloped you.

Teddy Bear - Melanie Martinez

“flirting” aka staring at u and when u look back at me i look away very fast so u wont see that i was staring at u

💭 thinking about . . . . going furniture shopping with caleb

tw. caleb x fem!reader, suggestive content, domestic caleb, crack-ish, inspired by that one tiktok of a couple playfully testing out furniture ergonomics in the ikea showrooms, 760 words

Maybe a trip to Ikea with your boyfriend slash ex-older brother figure wasn’t such a good idea when you take into consideration how pent-up you are from the mere sight of furniture. 

While that might sound strange, it’s nothing compared to the thoughts that arise when your gaze lingers on a few sturdy couches, your mind wandering to what it would be like if Caleb had you bent over the arms, the hot press of his body moving against yours desperately, his mouth on your neck, fingers tangled in your hair, trying to get you to that feverish peak—

“... and we could have the lamp near the desk—Pipsqueak?” 

His voice breaks you free from the reverie, and you startle slightly, turning your wide eyes to him.

“Hmm? What was that?” 

Caleb is looking at you with a shadow of concern in his eyes, his brows pinched in thought. “Are you okay? You zoned out and I coulda sworn you were about to break the stratosphere.” He takes your hand in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture. But, all you can think about is how those warm palms were just pressed to your hips last night, pinning you down as he got his fill of you.

The deepening warmth in your cheeks can’t be hidden. Caleb notices it instantly, years of intimately knowing your reactions and now, as your boyfriend, your little cues which point to one thing lingering in your mind. 

He grins. “Oh?” Despite being in a public setting, he corners against a fake console table, a smirk on his handsome, devilish expression. “Is my princess feeling a little bit… frisky?”

Caleb guffaws when you pout and push him away, the heated points of your cheeks undeniable. “Caleb, you big dummy—”

“Come on, princess. I was just messin’ around with you.” 

Slinging an arm around your waist, he drags you closer to his broad chest, the ends of his bangs tickling you when he leans in to smooch your cheek in the middle of the fake Ikea living room. Another couple walks past, their curious gazes darting to the two of you, and you feel the weight of judgement—the understanding of why your boyfriend is being so touchy-feely with you right now. 

Caleb decides to humor you, wanting to make you feel comfortable by interjecting lame jokes whenever the two of you drift to a new Ikea showcase. He pretends to measure the height of the kitchen counter in comparison with you, a half-serious thoughtful look on his face as he cups his hands by his side and bends slightly, trying to picture how you would look like sprawled out over the slick tiles and gasping while he—

Oh.

He can definitely see what you’re on about now. 

Shopping for furniture suddenly stopped feeling like a chore, especially when you can amuse each other by speculating on just how sturdy the fixings would be for future, intimate encounters. 

You would test a table’s resilience by sitting on it, and Caleb would give you a knowing look and a smirk. In the bathroom aisles, he slips inside a makeshift shower, pretending to measure the dimensions of how your body would fit pressed against the glass. 

Things get a little too real in the bedroom section. Caleb chuckles as you discreetly kneel by the edge of the bed, turning back to look at him with a heated tint in your cheeks. 

“Peak comfort, Colonel?” You tease him and he pretends to mull it over.

“Sturdy as can be, soldier… though the Malm does look more cosy…”

Caleb pinches your arm in warning when you slump over the sofa bed and spread your legs, trying to picture how ergonomic it would be when he has you folded like a lawn chair and is rocking your world apart. “Princess, behave—” he hisses, shielding you from an elderly couple who strolls by, oblivious to your mischief. 

Hand in hand, Caleb and you make a mental note of each piece of furniture that passed the degeneracy test when you finally load up the trolley. 

He glances at you as you’re deep in thought over some light fixtures, and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to kiss the top of your head.

When he first bought his house in Skyhaven, he gave it little thought—letting moving boxes pile up, and leaving it sterile and empty. Then, you came into the picture and what was once four blank walls became his favorite thing in the world: a home—a real home—with you. 

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when creating me, the gods decided to make me a maladaptive daydreamer but failed to give me any writing abilities and just said 'suffer'

Saw ppl on tiktok saying they were very similar

W/ hat version:

— pairing; fushiguro toji x reader ( with megumi fushiguro )

— summary; a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair.

— manga spoilers

Don’t say goodbye, you’d told your husband. Please.

And, perhaps understanding it was the last thing he could do for you, he’d kept silent.

You know that you’ll always replay the scene countless times in the years to come, each time thinking of different things you should have said and done.

But all you did was walk away without looking back.

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