#catch me about to be totally normal about him in the tags

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →

"You don't look well—"

"Don't."

You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi. 

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely��going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

Naaah.

[pencil-n-pen]

REDUCED TO SKIN AND BONE

. ݁₊ ♡ . ݁˖

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buck x people pleaser! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: Pathological People Pleaser- capital P. That’s you. Life is a helluva lot easier when no one can hurt you- not if you never give anyone substantial pieces of yourself. Too bad Evan “Buck” Buckley takes issue with this.

cw: reader is a grade A pathological people pleaser so all the angst and issues that come with that, canon-typical gore/violence (they are firefighters/paramedics)

tags/tropes: coworkers to lovers (hr HATES these two) bobby knowing everything about these two but letting them work it out anyway, team as a family, BUCK IS BOBBY’S KID IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS, also Buck being really sweet and nice (and reader having no idea what to do with this)

a/n: tbh this reader is really just a girl. this fic is extremely inspired by Love Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood, which, my dear followers, if you'll recall, is my favorite romance book ever (!!!!!) also no one say reader isn't realistic bc i based her internal dialogue and worries off of my real life experiences as a recovered people pleaser (there is hope for us)

credit to @bookshelf-dust for the in house arson investigator idea !! super brilliant and perfect !! go read their stuff !!

title taken from Goddess from Laufey!

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‘Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Cause they see right through me//Can you see right through me?

-The Archer, Taylor Swift

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₊˚⊹♡

Firefighter Evan “Buck” Buckley confuses you.

You’ve only been with the 118 for about two months. You’d be lying if you said the action and excitement of actually working with the firefighters on calls didn’t excite you to come to work— something you thought you’d never say.

And the team is great. You were nervous as hell at first. Suddenly being out on calls is exciting now, but scary as shit at first. You were much too used to your boring desk job. Plus, the firefighters were all intimidating in their own ways- Hen and Bobby the most.

Hen, because you totally look up to her and admire her ability to just… do whatever and say whatever and not worry what other people think. She holds her head high, and you’re more than a little envious.

Bobby, because he’s your captain, and you need to prove your worth as an addition to the team.

Slowly but surely, you began to solidify your presence as a team member. You aren’t sensitive to the blood and gore they see on calls which definitely won you points with Hen and Chimney, and you aren’t a pushover- you’re willing to put your foot down when push comes to shove. Plus, not to brag, but you’re damn good at your job.

After a month, you’d gotten everything down pat. What’s the right thing to say, what isn’t the right thing to say. What to do so the team trusts you, what to do so they don’t ask too many questions, how to correctly come across to them as a capable person. How to seem normal and well-adjusted and fine. What normal looks like to them.

With the exception of Evan Buckley.

You just… can’t get a read on him. Ever. He’s nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive, like seriously, it’s not even fair) but no one is that nice and smart and funny (and ridiculously attractive.)

You don’t like talking to him because he’s been more than a little sweet on you since day one. And obviously it's not serious and he doesn't mean it, just friendly camaraderie, but. But but but but but. It catches you off guard without fail every single time. Because every single time you talk to him, you get the very distinct sense that he’s looking right though you. That when you’re talking to the rest of the team, perfect smile in place, he can see through you.

It’s more than a little unnerving. It leaves you unsteady and wrong-footed. Like you’re never sure what exactly to say or how to act.

So you mostly just avoid him. You’re thankful that you’re only the arson investigator, because if you’d actually been a real firefighter, avoiding him would be a million times harder. As it stands, it’s fairly easy to do it without being obvious.

Or so you think.

“Is something wrong Captain Nash?” You ask, shutting the door behind you in his office.

Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you to just call me Bobby.”

“I think the second I do, my parents will appear in the room and lecture me about respect and manners.”

You sit as he gestures, watching with almost perfectly concealed apprehension as he laces his fingers.

“Did Buck say something to you?”

What.

“What?”

“Firefighter Buckley,” Bobby clarifies, as if that was the part of the question that needed specification. “I’ve noticed that you tend to avoid him when possible. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. No one else has noticed.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the admission of being caught.

“How could you tell?” You ask instead of answering his question.

Bobby just shrugs. “I have three kids. This isn’t my first rodeo. Now, you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?”

You’re not really sure you can explain this to him without one, sounding like a crazy person, and two, having him lose all the respect you’ve worked hard to build with him.

You settle for the super abridged version.

“Buck… makes me nervous. I’ve had some bad experiences with men that acted like him before, so. I’m over it, of course, I’m fine he just… sets me on edge a little. I’m not like, afraid of him or anything.”

You are actually afraid of him a little. Because if he really does see through you then what’s stopping him from ripping the current back? Giving everyone a good look into your ugly and raw? What’s stopping him from leaving you exposed?

Bobby hums, contemplating.

“You don’t trust him.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You rush to amend, heart starting to race. Fix it fix it fix it fix it— “I do trust him. I know he’d never hurt me, or anyone else for that matter, he’s a great guy—“

Bobby leans back in his seat. “He’s a genuinely nice guy, and you don’t know how to deal with that, so you avoid him. You don’t trust that he’s genuine.”

Too close too close too close too close—

Smile. Laugh. Look down for a few seconds. Raise head, hold eye-contact. Speak.

“Nothing like that,” Smile. “Just takes some time for a girl to get used to all the facts that tend to come with him. I could’ve done without the one about heart worms before lunch.”

Laugh.

“Oh, you have no idea. Imagine being present when he actually got to assist on a tapeworm removal. I was put off noodles entirely for months.”

Now Bobby laughs, a real one, so you laugh with him, and you feel a little safer, the conversation back in your control.

“I promise, there’s nothing between me and Buck. Just new-girl nerves.”

Flash a smile, appease the man.

“If that’s all, then you’re free to go. Keep up the good work.”

You stand, one hand on the edge of the armrest of the chair to hide the minute tremors in your hand. You hold your breath as you leave Bobby’s office, breathing tiny, quick breaths through your nose until you make it to the safety of your office, closing the door behind you and all but collapsing into your chair.

That was… close. You must’ve let your guard down around Bobby. His personality and dad-aura are so disarming. You hadn’t even realized he’d been watching you that close. He read you a little too easily and a little too quickly. That was too close. What if he had—

A knock on your door snaps you ramrod straight, posture perfect and easy expression snapped into place in seconds.

It takes everything in you not to deflate when you see who walks through the door.

“Buck?”

“Sorry, sorry,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, “I know you don’t like me in here, I’ll be quick. I just need that file from that warehouse fire case?”

You frown as you search your filing cabinet for the case file. “I’ve never said I didn’t like you in here.”

“Yeah, not as much as said as implied.”

“I don’t mind you in here. It’s just an office.”

You’re not sure what he wants you to say. Does he want you to agree with him, tell him you don’t want him in here, make him right? Does he want you to tell him that he’s welcome in your office?

What does he want?

He shrugs in the corner of your eye, hands in his pockets, and you honestly have to physically restrain yourself from staring at the muscles of his arms as they move and tense with the motion. It’s very conflicting: him being the unending source of the late-night fantasies you pretend not to indulge in to fall asleep, hugging a pillow, and the fact that he’s the reason you’ve considered going on anxiety medication.

“…Are you okay?”

You’re abruptly reminded that he’s still in your office and you’re still having a conversation and your grip has at some point turned crushing on the case file.

“Oh, yeah,” Smile, look down, laugh. Look up(?) “Long night last night. Didn’t get much sleep.”

He cocks his head, the action reminiscent of a dog. He really is a golden retriever. You should really stop thinking about Buck so much.

“I thought you went home early last night?”

Your smile wavers.

Laugh(?) put the case file down. Take a sip of coffee, smile(?)

“You know how it is. Work never quite ends at work.”

He doesn’t skip a beat before speaking.

“Why do you do that?”

Something cold starts to drip down your neck. An icy chill of dread.

“Do what?”

“That lying thing.”

Smile? Laugh? Sit down?

Your other hand comes up to cup your coffee. “As far as I know, I don’t have a lying thing.” You huff a breathy laugh, but it comes out wrong. More wheezing and choked than a laugh.

He leans back against the wall of your office, crossing his arms. “Yeah you do. Like, sure, maybe you did have a late night, but none of those expressions or smiles were real. You like, lie with your face.”

You feel cold and hot at the same time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you want this case file?”

“No, you know what I’m talking about. Is it conscious? Is it like code-switching? Nah, this is too—“

“Buck!” You snap, skin crawling, “Would you please just take this file and go?”

He snaps his fingers, pointing at you. “There! That’s real. That was a real expression.”

You forcibly smooth your face out, trying to project the calm you don’t feel. “Me getting annoyed with you?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles a little, a small smile on his face. “Just for a second, you looked real.”

You blink. Pause. Turn his words over in your head.

“You don’t really need this case file, do you?”

“Nope.”

You set the mug down, ignoring the way your tremors increased at your little outburst. “So you just came to what? Get under my skin? Disturb me while I’m working?”

He taps a boot on the floor. “Kind of. It’s my turn to be the man behind, and this beats mopping.”

This time, the flat glare you send him is intentional. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem as rigid as you did a few minutes ago.”

You stiffen your posture on instinct. “It’s called posture.”

“That’s not posture. That’s fear.”

His tone is light and joking, but his words hit their mark. Or maybe there isn’t a mark, and he just stabs your metaphorical bullseye anyway.

You shuffle in place, skin prickling under his gaze. “Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

You stare at your shoes, face hot. This is uncharted territory. The end-all-be-all of terrible conversations.

“Well for one, it’s terribly awkward, and two, I don’t see why you felt the need to call me a liar to my face.”

Buck pushes off the wall. “Okay, that’s not what I meant by that—“

“No, I think you meant what you said.”

He sighs. “Can we start over?”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you have this misconception about me, and it would really suck if a pretty girl didn’t like me just because we got off on the wrong foot.”

PRETTY?

“You think I’m pretty?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

He smirks, a mischievous thing pulling at his lips. “No, I think you meant what you said.” He says, mimicking your earlier words.

You press your hands into your face, exhaling hard.

“Well, if your goal was to make me uncomfortable, you’ve definitely succeeded.”

“Aw, that’s no good. That’s the opposite of what I wanted.”

The gears in your brain turn.

“You came here… because you wanted me to be more comfortable around you?”

He snaps his fingers. “Ding ding ding!”

You frown. “So your plan to make me more comfortable around you was to call me a liar and purposefully get under my skin?”

Your words hang in silence for a moment.

“Well when you put it like that—“

“Is there another way to put it?”

“The plan was to get you to see that nothing bad is gonna happen if you stop doing that face-lying-thing. I mean, you haven’t been doing it for the duration of this conversation and the world hasn’t ended, right?”

You look away. “That’s because I can’t pretend with you. It always falls apart. You freak me out.”

His brows furrow. “I freak you out?”

“Yes!” You snap whipping your head back to face him, “Other people put out, like, signals, you know. What kind of people they like and dislike, and I pick up on them, and avoid the parts they don’t like and play up the parts they do like. But you don’t put out anything! I don’t know what you want.”

Buck is silent for several moments. It’s unnerving.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I just like you?”

You blink. Look away. Cross your arms.

“You know,” He continues, voice a little softer, “I have a habit of liking people just as they are. Bobby tells me it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Is planning difficult conversations one of your lesser qualities?”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“No.”

It’s easier to focus and talk about the less serious parts of this entire situation than even think about what he just said.

“How about this,” He says after you don’t speak again. “If you’re gonna fake something, or pretend you feel one way about something, you have to come tell me the truth about how you really feel.”

“Well that sounds terrible. What do you get out of it?”

He smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “You agree to let me take you on a date.”

Your face is practically on fire. Evan Buckley is asking you on a date. Buck is asking you on a date.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage to get out. Oh.

He frowns. “Are you oka—“

You smash your face into your hands, hiding your flushed and flustered face from view. “Just— just give me a second.”

You attempt to slow your racing heart, all to aware of the fact that Buck is still in the room, still looking at you.

“…Can you turn around?”

You hear a quiet little huff, then the shuffling of footsteps, signifying he is in fact no longer looking at you.

“If I’d known you’d be this excited at the idea—“

“Shut up or I’ll say no.”

He just hums, voice teasing. “I don’t think you will.”

“I might.”

“Mm. Nope.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t,” You grumble, dropping your hands. “Okay fine, I’ll do it, but when I tell you… stuff, you don’t get to make fun of me for whatever it is.”

“I really think you have the wrong idea of who I am as a person.”

“I’ve seen how you make fun of Eddie.”

“Well, that’s Eddie. It’s like, bro code.”

“Ew.”

“Having friends is gross?”

“Yes. Get out of my office.”

He turns around, grabbing his chest, feigning pain. “Oh the hurt. The pain.”

“You’ll survive, I’m sure. You’re a big boy.”

Okay what the fuck are you saying right now. Can’t god just strike you down? Can’t some old water damage cause the ceiling to come down on you?

Buck takes it in stride, laughing loudly, though if you look close, you can see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“So when are you free for our date?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively over the word date, and you despise the flush it brings to your face. And ears. And neck.

“Um. Saturday?”

“Cool. You have my number, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll text you the details later this week. And hey, look at me.”

He waits until you look up. “You aren’t allowed to spend the rest of this week stressing about it, okay? It’s gonna be fun, and nice."

He opens the door to your office, ducking half out before turning around. “Remember: fun and nice.”

And then he’s gone. Then you’re just an idiot standing in your office, face hot and tingling.

He called you pretty.

—

Buck's request is difficult to follow through on. Like, sure, you agreed to it, but you still don't really understand why he wants to know this. The things that go on in your head that you don't tell anyone about. He said he got a date out of (a date, you're going on a date with Evan Buckley--) but is that really... anything?

Is it a real date? Or just some little fling? And why, exactly, is the date something he considers a fair trade? Like sure, he's hot -incredibly so- and every time you think about the date your heart speeds up and million questions run through your head, like will he pick you up, is he the type to bring flowers, where are you going for the date, all of those things.

You wince from your spot on the couch upstairs, papers strewn across the table in front of you.

"Dammit," You mutter, holding a finger up to the lip that you've chewed to shreds, now bleeding steadily, blood beginning to trickle down your chin.

A napkin appears in your line of sight, and you take it from Hen gratefully.

"Thanks."

She just nods. "Something on your mind?"

You blink, a little questioning.

"Your lip," She gestures to it. "You always chew it when you're thinking about something troubling. Is this about that new case?"

"Ah," You breathe, a small shiver running down your spine at her words. Being perceived is weird. "No actually. It's..."

You decide to be honest. News will get out anyway, and Hen appreciates truthfullness. "It's about Buck."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You shuffle the papers in front of you, hands itching for something to do, "We're going on a date on Saturday."

"Oh!" She exclaims, settling on the couch across from you. "That's... surprising. I was under the impression you didn't really care for him."

Your face heats. "That's kind of why we're going on the date. He wants to... make me more comfortable. Those were his words."

"Interesting method."

You shrug. "It's Buck."

Hen nods, a chuckle escaping her lips. "I'm guessing you're not so sure about it?"

"It's not that. I just," you debate your next words carefully, weighing the options, wondering if you should even say them, but Hen's face is open and non-judgmental, and she knows when not to gossip.

"I haven't been on a date in awhile," You admit, "Or many at all, really. I don't know what to expect."

Your hands still on the papers. "I... don't do well when I don't know what to expect."

Hen nods. "I get it. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Buck will do everything in his power to make the date as 'comfortable'," She does finger quotes around the word, "As possible. It took him a couple tries to get here, but. He's got a good heart."

You can't help the small frown at her words. "I know."

Hen tilts her head, squinting. "Do you? Cause it seems like you aren't so sure."

Smile. Laugh.

"Well," You laugh a small, breathy thing. "In my experience, no one is that nice."

Hen snorts. "Okay, true. But Buck's been through a lot. What he may lack in tact he makes up for in earnest effort."

She stands, and levels you with a look you try hard not to whither behind. "Give him a chance. And try not to break his heart."

You smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels. "I'll try not to."

Though I'm not sure he'll be the one getting his heart broken.

--

Buck is careful not to bother you too much at work. He still sets you on edge in that "I see through you" way of his, but he's right- nothing terrible has happened since your conversation. If anything, he's almost... gentler, in his good natured ribbing and such. He's actually rather attentive.

"Okay," He murmurs next to you at the table, most of the others finished with their food , plates cleared and being washed. "You've got your fake smile on, so spill."

You elbow him. "Cool it, Buckley."

"Great meal, Cap!" You call out to the Captain, who sends you a quick smile from the sink.

You spear a stem of asparagus prepared honestly perfectly by Bobby, and lean over to Buck. "Fine. You really wanna know?"

"Uh, yeah."

You take a huge bite, smiling as you swallow. "I hate asparagus."

Buck's eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious? That's such a small thing to care about."

You glance up to ensure nobody's eavesdropping. "Bobby works really hard on everything he makes! I don't want any of it to go to waste or to seem unappreciative."

"Okay, we're really going to have to have a talk about your perception of everyone," He elbows you back, "Come on. Bobby would not be offended if you don't eat the vegetables because you don't like asparagus period. It's not like you're even saying you don't like his cooking!"

You take another bite. Only A few left. "Better safe than sorry."

"Stop eating them--"

"I have to finish them!"

"Something wrong over there?" Bobby's voice rings out over the kitchen.

"Nope!" You call back.

"Actually," Buck starts, ignoring your furious elbowing, "Our little investigator over here doesn't like asparagus."

Bobby tilts his head with a smile. "Why didn't you say something?"

Your stomach lurches. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-- "I... didn't want you to be offended?"

"Why would I be offended that you don't like asparagus?"

"Because you cooked it?"

He shakes his head. "Not how things work around here. If you don't like something, you don't have to eat it."

Your face feels like it's on fire and your palms are sweating and you kind of feel a little nauseous. But that might be the asparagus. "Right. Okay. Thanks."

Bobby goes back to loading the dishwasher, and the others are no longer paying attention, so you lower your forehead to the table, grateful that Buck moves your plate away before your head can meet your now unfinished vegetables.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because asparagus is a dumb thing to be worried about," He says, voice light and cheery.

"It was a valid concern," You mumble.

"Maybe in your head. But not quite in reality," He rubs your back consolingly a few times, though all the action does is rile you up more. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you're still sitting here and you actually can't see if the others are still looking and oh god maybe Bobby is upset because you're an adult, you should've known that and--

"I can physically feel how tense you just got."

Oh. Right. His hand is still on your back.

"Relax," He drags out the word, his voice low and deep, "No one is going to spontaneously hate you. I sure don't."

"You don't count."

"Mm, how come?"

You're glad your face is currently hidden by the table, because you flush when you mumble the next words.

"Cause you think I'm pretty."

"I do," He amends, "But I'm not sure that discounts my opinion. IF anything, it doubles it."

"That's not how that works."

"It's not?"

"No."

He leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Prove me wrong, then."

--

Saturday approaches and your anxiety increases. Buck had in deed texted you the details -which did, actually, make you feel better, knowing a bit of what to expect and having it in writing.

When Saturday arrives and the clock inches closer to the time he said he'd pick you up, you start to question if any of this was a good idea.

Everything collapses when you have to pick an outfit. Nothing seems right- everything is either too much or not enough. You blink the tears out of your eyes because you spent too long on your makeup to ruin it, and Buck's gonna be here soon and you need to just pick something--

A knock sounds at your door and you gasp. Shit.

You rush to the front door, and wrench it open.

"Hi I'm so sorry I'm not ready yet- oh my god are those flowers?"

Buck takes the rush of words in stride, smiling and holding the bouquet out to you. "They are."

You take the flowers with reverence, the gentle, floral aroma soothing your senses.

"Are... you okay?"

You blink, not realizing that tears had begun to well up in your eyes again. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I'm a little... frazzled."

His gaze darts down. "Is that why you don't have pants on?"

You're almost one hundred percent sure you burst into flames right then and there. And if you don't, you seriously hope you do.

"Oh my god- don't look, I'll be right back, uh, please come inside and close the door!"

You race back into your room and shut the door, throwing on the closest pair of pants- which happen to be the fuzzy, old, candy heart-print pajama pants you took on three hours ago when you started getting ready.

You step back out, now sporting a wonderful outfit consisting of your black, rather nicely fitting going out top and fluffy pajama pants.

"I'll be ready in about fifteen minutes, sorry about the," You pause, swallowing your embarrassment, "Lack of pants."

He chuckles, laughing that nice little Buck laugh that settles your nerves a bit. "Hey, I wasn't complaining. I asked for the real you and this has all been very real."

Your never-ending flush revives itself as he speaks. "I"m really sorry, I'm usually more put together than this, I promise."

He takes a step toward you. "Remember why we're going on this date?"

A beat passes.

Buck takes another step. "To make you more comfortable with me. And the team, but mostly me."

You laugh a little, a nervous thing.

"But you don't seem very comfortable right now." His hands rise to the your waist, sliding down to your hips.

"Sorry," You say on instinct.

He huffs. "Still don't think you're getting the point of this. Okay, what was the big stressor of tonight, besides the actual date part?"

You look down at your feet. "My outfit."

"Well," He says, squeezing your waist and very clearly enjoying the little squeak you let out at the action, "Then why don't we sollve that by..."

Your heart siezes. Oh god, you're not ready to sleep with him, you haven't had your everything shower because it was only the first date and you didn't think--

"...Staying in tonight? I can order some takeout and we can watch a movie."

Oh.

"But your reservation--"

"Can be called and cancelled," He soothes. "I only want to do things you're comfortable with. That was the whole point of this date."

Later, after you both stuffed your faces with takeout graciously ordered by Buck, and both of you cuddled up on the couch (!) you let yourself speak.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Sorry for freaking out earlier," You curl your arm around his bicep, face smashed into the side of it while you (pretend) to watch the movie. "Thanks for... this. And the flowers."

"You really like those flowers, huh?"

"Mhm. They're really pretty. No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"What? No way."

"Well. I haven't ever gotten flowers from a date or boyfriend," You stumble over the word boyfriend, "But like, you know. Graduations and stuff."

"Guess we're going to have to fix that, then."

"We are?"

He raises a brow. "You didn't think I was gonna stop at one date, did you?"

"Well it was kind of a mess."

He shrugs. "On one of my first dates, I choked on bread and my date at the time had to perform a tracheotomy with a ballpoint pen."

You gape at him. "Those are real?"

He traces a finger over the thin, silver scar on his throat. "Yep. So trust me, this date turned out fine. I actually uh,"

He flushes a little, a dusting of red on his cheeks. "I actually really enjoyed tonight."

You chew your lip, nervous and scared but all the sudden deciding that you're going to get over yourself and do something. No matter how small.

You stare at the end credits. "You wanna watch another movie?"

"Absolutely. More takeout?"

"I don't know how you can even think about eating more. But I do have popcorn in the pantry."

He presses a quick, soft little kiss to your cheek. "Perfect."

₊˚⊹♡

[miyukisu]

Better Bite the Bullet .ᐟ

❤︎ | He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc) ╰ feat. iwaizumi hajime (hq) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 10 | kinktober masterlist

tags - college au, childhood bestfriends, Oikawa mention, blowjobs, handjobs, no p in v, p*rn with plot, virgin! reader

minors do not interact

You've known Hajime since you were in diapers, long enough that he had grown indifferent to your antics. He hasn't even looked up once from his phone as you paced tirelessly around his bedroom. You were losing your shit and Hajime was sitting on his bed without a care in the world.

A bright idea came to you in the form of making your footsteps louder in hopes that it would annoy him enough to catch his attention. He clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes at your moving form.

But not even a second later, his eyes were back on his phone one again. "What the hell are you even doing?" he asked.

"Pacing around. Isn't it obvious?"

He grumbles, finally turning his phone off and throwing it to the side where it landed on his pillow with a soft thud. "No shit Sherlock. I meant what are you pacing around for? It's annoying."

Finally, you stop in your tracks, facing your childhood best friend with your lower lip between your teeth. You've been dying to tell him what was on your chest an hour ago. But now that you're about to spill the beans to him—you found yourself tripping over your words.

"I guess... um... Oikawa kinda asked me to hang out soon... um..."

Hajime's interest was piqued. Normally he wouldn't give two shits about who Oikawa asked out. But this time it was you. An uneasy feeling brewed in his stomach, like he had drank rancid milk.

"And you're worrying about it like some middle schooler? C'mon you're in college," he deflects. Of course, it was his defense mechanism—to act all tough and harsh with the revelation.

You crossed your arms in defense. "I get that... but it's THE Oikawa Tooru that we're talking about here."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? Is your head not screwed on properly?"

Hajime rolls his eyes. Not only were you about to be whisked away by Oikawa, but you had the gall to act like a total brat right now.

"He's just asking to hang out—what's so amazing about that?"

Truth be told, you hadn't thought this far into what it would be like if you had this conversation with Hajime. You figured you wouldn't have to divulge the second—more embarrassing—part of this whole event.

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips. You screwed your eyes shut as if to prepare for the impact of his reaction on what you have to say next.

"A friend of mine told me that when he says something like that... it usually leads to... you know..."

Hajime's eyebrow perked then silence ensued. He knew what you meant, of course. He wasn't born yesterday.

"To what? Fucking?"

Your eyes shot open at his vulgar choice of words. That's exactly what you meant, but you didn't think he'd be so blunt about it. "I mean—if it does get to that... obviously I won't just go all the way with him. I haven't even talked to him that much," you say—backpedaling.

"You won't go all the way, but you'll go somewhere huh?" he pried further. He played it off like he was teasing or, worse yet, mocking. But he wanted to know; he knew his friend's intentions, but he didn't know yours.

You nervously bit your lip again. This was going to be the third revelation of tonight. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that you'd be having his conversation with your childhood best friend.

"Maybe... maybe, yeah... that's what I'm nervous about..."

The uneasy feeling had grown worse. Hajime swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. "Then just don't," he suggests. "You could always just hang out normally."

Another sigh escapes you and you decide to sit beside him—plopping down on the mattress. You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any tangles that had built up.

"I just wanna experience something... you know? I'll only be young and in college once..." you admit. At this point, there was no use in hiding it. Hajime knew every substantial detail anyway.

This time, it was Hajime who sighed. Part of him still felt dread, but another felt pity for you.

"Jeez..."

Hearing his reaction, you felt the urge to stand up and find your bearings. But a warm hand grips your wrist before you could go. You turn to look back and see Hajime's determined expression.

"I'll teach you then."

────────────

Hajime was a 100% sure not a single rational thought was left in either of your heads. Somehow, he thought that if only you touched him and not vice versa—it would be fine. And, somehow, you agreed to it.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, Hajime leaning against the wall on his bed with his dick out of his sweats.

"Well... that's certainly... something..."

"Do you also plan on commenting about his dick when you see it?"

His sarcasm was hardly appreciated right now, especially since you were sure that your nerves would send you into a tailspin.

"No, of course not. I just—fuck, fine. Let's get to it," you say before scooting closer to him.

Carefully, you reach out and gently wrap your fingers around his shaft. Hajime hissed softly, but you were too concentrated to even notice.

Mesmerized, you swiped your thumb over his tip and gave him a soft tug. His jaw was clenched so hard, trying to act like none of this fazed him. But the way you treated him so delicately was arousing in its own way.

You begin stroking him faster. "Is this okay? It doesn't hurt, right?"

"No, but," Hajime pauses before placing his larger hand over yours. "You could do it better though."

He was now guiding you—actually teaching you how to jerk a guy off. Your eyes were fixated on the way both of your hands glided up and down his shaft, slippery from the immense amount of pre.

But his eyes were on your face. Oddly enough, he found it endearing how focused you were at the task on hand (quite literally). He watched every time your face scrunched, how your mouth was a bit agape, and how your eyebrows would quirk up sometimes.

It was cute, he thought.

As soon as you figured out the pace and pressure, he let go of your hand, allowing you free reign over his dick. You felt it twitch. It was most likely a good sign at least. Even better now that he had his eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall.

Maybe this was easier than you thought. Maybe you could do something else. So your hand slows and your eyes trail up to his face. "Hajime."

"What?"

"Can I use my mouth?"

All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the words that left you. "Huh? What for?"

"No one's gonna be impressed by a handjob. Guys already do it on their own all the time," you reason.

Hajime clicks his tongue. "You don't have to do that kind of thing yet when you're this inexperienced."

He tried staying stern despite the almost pleading look on your face. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was denying you. He could have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in a second and here he was—acting like a righteous fool when he doesn't have to be.

Again, he clicks his tongue. But, this time, not because of you. He's annoyed at himself for having no restraint... for having no shame that he's kind of taking advantage of his best friend's naivety.

But to hell with it.

"Okay," he relents. Hajime watches as you get even closer to him. Only then do you feel the nerves consume you once more.

The newfound confidence you had earlier had quickly dissipated as soon as you began leaning down. It didn't help that his natural manly scent was intoxicating. It was warm—you felt it against your face—and it was achingly hard.

You pucker your lips on instinct, accidentally kissing his tip instead. Hajime thought you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him, not realizing that you were tripping out of nervousness.

"Don't be a tease."

"I'm not!" you countered before quickly wrapping your lips around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent shivers down his spine. But the slight grazing of your teeth on his sensitive shaft made him uncomfortable.

"Ah shit.... less teeth. Gotta hollow out your cheeks a bit."

Your jaw was already hurting. Though it probably had less to do with your skill and more to do with his size. He seemed more manageable with just a hand, but now that you're using your mouth, the task seemed gargantuan now.

But you still try. You do as he says and you feel his entire body relax a bit. It takes a lot of your concentration to make sure your teeth were out of the way and your lips provided enough suction.

That alone had Hajime seeing stars. It wasn't the best blowjob of his life, but seeing that it was your head bobbing up-and-down on his dick was a sensation in and of itself.

After getting used to the basics, you decide to throw in a little bit of tongue action. It caught him by complete surprise and a soft groan spilled from his lips.

Scared that you had hurt him, you were about to lift your head to ask him, but his hand quickly places itself on top of your head. He wasn't rough nor did he forcefully keep your head down.

Instead, he began caressing your hair—starting from the top of your head, going down to smooth your locks. It was his way of reassuring you that he felt fine—amazing even. You were doing a damn good job for someone who hasn't done this before.

Hajime avoided using his voice throughout the whole thing to make it less intimate and more 'educational' if that even made sense. But he understood that you probably needed more reassurance.

"That's it," he started. "You're doing so well... so well for me."

Hajime had filthier things to say otherwise, but again, this was supposed to be 'educational'.

As much as you want to keep up the pace that you built, your jaw was too sore for that. A bit of a break wouldn't hurt, so you retract yourself—tongue lolled out with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. The sight alone would have made him bust, but he kept his composure... somewhat.

"Oh fuck..."

His words spurred you on, however. You settled on suckling his tip while your hand worked on the rest of his length. Having the best of both worlds made his head spin. His leaking tip was the most sensitive it had ever been and the fast pace of your hand made the coil in his stomach tighter and tighter.

Hajime wanted nothing more but to come in your mouth—consider it as payment for him teaching you. His dick began to twitch again like earlier, but this time you noticed the way his abs would tense up. The dampness that had been pooling in your underwear ever since you had his dick in your hand was starting to become distracting. But you pulled through.

"Fuckkk... I'm coming in your mouth," he announced. Thick white ropes of hot cum painted your tongue. The flavor was odd—something you've never tasted before. It made your face contort a bit.

He tried catching his breath after that single mindblowing orgasm. But through his high, he noticed the hesitation on your face. "You don't have to swallow that you—"

But he stops mid-sentence as he watched you gulp down his fresh seed. You've gone this far—might as well.

Hajime swore that he felt his dick twitch back to life, ready for more. He wasn't sure what you did to him. But now he was certain that you absolutely shouldn't do this with anyone but him.

"Fuck... forget about that moron. Have fun with me instead."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Wow... I'm actually kinda proud of this one?

[aventurineswife]

Reader flinches during an argument😩🤚

You cna make it just flinching or them actually accidentally hurting reader, whatever you're more comfortable with

Characters: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Kaveh and Therta (get it? Cuz The Herta can be shortened to Therta... haha... ha)

Trust Reforged in the Quiet

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, The Herta x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Emotional Vulnerability, Arguments, Flinching Reaction, Apologies, Reconciliation, Romantic Tension, Communication, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Emotional conflict, Raised voices, Accidental intimidation, Mentions of guilt and emotional vulnerability. (No physical harm or abuse.)

A/N: yeah... I totally got it, ahahaha.. ha 🧍‍♀️

The peaceful glow of the Luofu was overshadowed by the tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan. The General stood in his study, his eyes fixed on you, frustration flickering behind their usual calm. The argument had started small, but it spiraled into something you hadn’t anticipated.

“You don’t understand the weight of these decisions,” Jing Yuan said, his tone sharper than usual. “Every action has consequences—not just for us, but for the entire Alliance.”

“I’m trying to help you!” you shot back, voice trembling. “But you keep shutting me out like I’m just an outsider!”

Jing Yuan ran a hand through his long hair, visibly exasperated. “It’s not about shutting you out—it’s about protecting you. Don’t you see that?”

When he suddenly stepped closer, his voice louder than before, you instinctively flinched, taking a step back. His eyes widened, his anger evaporating in an instant.

“Wait…” His voice softened. “Did you just flinch?”

You looked down, ashamed. The moment hung heavy in the air. Jing Yuan’s heart ached at the sight of you retreating from him, and he cursed himself for letting his emotions overwhelm his judgment.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, his hands hovering before dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He took a step back himself, giving you space. “I would never hurt you.”

You hesitated before nodding, your eyes still wary. Jing Yuan took a deep breath, his usual calm returning. He walked to his desk, retrieved a cup of tea, and set it down in front of you.

“Let’s talk—properly this time,” he said, his voice steady but laced with remorse. “I want to listen to you, truly.”

And for the first time that evening, you felt safe enough to let him in.

The opulent office felt suffocating as Aventurine paced back and forth, his normally suave demeanor unraveling. You had challenged one of his high-stakes decisions, and he hadn’t taken it well.

“You think I didn’t calculate the risks?” he barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “You think I don’t know exactly what I’m doing?”

“I’m saying it’s dangerous, Aventurine!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You can’t keep gambling with people’s lives like this!”

His eyes burned with frustration. “You don’t understand the game I’m playing! Every move I make is—”

When he spun to face you, gesturing emphatically, you flinched, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The slight recoil stopped Aventurine mid-sentence. His hand, frozen mid-air, dropped to his side.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, his voice came out softer, almost unsure. “Did I… scare you?”

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was answer enough. Aventurine’s usually confident mask cracked, revealing the guilt underneath. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone devoid of its usual bravado. “I let my temper get the better of me.”

You crossed your arms, your voice shaky. “I just want you to see that I care, Aventurine. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

He chuckled dryly, his smile weak but genuine. “It seems I’m the one who needs a reminder of that sometimes.” He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours. “Can we try this again? No shouting this time.”

You nodded, and as he led you to sit beside him, the gambler seemed determined to show you he was more than just his sharp words and risky strategies.

The gentle hum of the Astral Express felt distant as you and Dan Heng faced off in the library. He rarely raised his voice, but tonight, his frustration was palpable.

“You can’t just rush into danger like that!” Dan Heng exclaimed, his voice uncharacteristically forceful. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I was trying to help!” you defended, equally upset. “You always act like I can’t handle myself!”

“Because you don’t see the risks!” He stepped forward, his hand clutching his spear. “What if something had happened to you? Do you think I could—”

When his voice rose further, and his spear clinked against the floor as he adjusted his grip, you flinched, taking a step back. Dan Heng immediately froze, his sharp eyes widening in realization. The air grew heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

“You…” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He set his spear down, his hands shaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to… I would never—”

You looked away, biting your lip. “It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting you to—”

“No, it’s not fine,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with guilt. “I lost control. That’s on me.”

Dan Heng lowered himself to sit on the edge of the table, his posture uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I don’t want to push you away. I’m just… scared of losing you.”

You hesitated before stepping closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m scared too, but we need to face this together. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

He nodded, his usual calm slowly returning. “You’re right. I’ll… do better.”

In that moment, you saw the real Dan Heng—not the stoic guardian, but the man who carried the weight of the past and feared losing the one person who made him feel safe.

The grandiose living room of Alhaitham's home felt oppressive as your argument with Kaveh escalated. He stood in the middle of the room, his expressive eyes alight with frustration. You had challenged one of his decisions, and his idealistic nature didn’t take it lightly.

“You don’t understand what this means to me!” Kaveh exclaimed, his voice shaking. “I worked my entire life to make a difference through my designs! And now you’re questioning that?”

“I’m not questioning your work, Kaveh,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation. “I’m worried about you! You’re pushing yourself too hard, taking on too much—”

“Because I have to!” he shouted, his hands flaring in an animated gesture. “If I don’t, who will? Do you think anyone else cares as much as I do?” He stepped closer, his tone growing sharper as he continued. “Stop acting like you—”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You flinched, taking a small step back as his voice rose and his movements became more animated. The action stopped him in his tracks, the weight of the moment crashing down around him like a crumbling structure.

His arms dropped to his sides, and his face fell. “Did… did I scare you?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet and laced with regret.

You didn’t reply immediately, your throat tight with emotion. “I—I didn’t mean to—” you started, but Kaveh shook his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he said firmly, his tone filled with self-reproach. “This isn’t on you. I… I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” He took a step back, giving you space, his eyes filled with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel unsafe.”

“Kaveh…” you began, your voice softening.

He turned away briefly, running a hand through his hair. “I let my emotions get the better of me. Again. It’s just… everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I’m trying so hard to hold it together.”

You stepped forward hesitantly, placing a hand on his arm. “I know you’re trying, Kaveh. But you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself.”

He looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just… I don’t know how to let go. But I don’t ever want to hurt you, not even by accident.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, squeezing his arm gently. “But you need to let yourself rest, Kaveh. Let yourself breathe.”

He nodded slowly, his usual dramatic flair subdued by the gravity of the moment. “You’re right. I’ll… I’ll try. For you.”

And as the tension eased, you saw in his eyes the vulnerability he often tried to mask with passion and idealism—a man who cared so deeply, it sometimes consumed him.

The sterile halls of Herta’s spaceship echoed with the sharp edge of your argument. Herta stood before her console, her fingers tapping impatiently on its surface as she glared at you.

“Do you even understand the magnitude of what I’m trying to achieve here?” she asked, her tone biting. “This isn’t just some experiment—it’s a breakthrough!”

“I do understand,” you replied, your voice raised. “But you’re so focused on the outcome that you’re ignoring the risks!”

Herta’s eyes narrowed as she whirled around to face you, her movements swift and deliberate. “Risks are inevitable in science! If I stopped every time something was dangerous, we wouldn’t even have the Simulated Universe! You—” She gestured sharply, stepping closer as her voice grew louder.

The suddenness of her movement made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as you instinctively stepped back. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable. Herta froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening in realization.

She stared at you for a long moment, the tension in her posture dissipating. “Wait… did I just… scare you?” she asked, her voice unusually soft.

You looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Herta shook her head, her usual detached demeanor cracking. “No, it’s not fine,” she said, setting her clipboard aside. “I might be a genius, but that doesn’t give me the right to… intimidate you like that.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the remorse in her tone. “Herta…”

She crossed her arms, avoiding your eyes as she spoke. “I get so caught up in my work, I forget about the people around me. I’m sorry.” She sighed, her sharp wit returning slightly. “It seems even I have room for improvement.”

You chuckled softly despite the tension. “You think?”

She smiled faintly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and deliberate. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll explain everything properly this time—no yelling, no dramatics.”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening. “I’d like that.”

As she guided you to her desk, the usual confidence in her demeanor was tempered by a quiet sincerity. For the first time, you saw the side of Herta that wasn’t just a genius or a scientist, but someone who valued your trust more than any experiment.

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ in the act (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

you and yunho are roommates. he never comes home early, except for the one time he does and catches you in the middle of touching yourself and moaning his name.

style: bullet drabble pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count: 1.2k tags/warnings: smut, pwp, masturbation, porn, fingering, oral f receiving, lots of dirty talk, degradation / use of slut *affectionate*, praise, guided orgasm notes: so enough people said they were interested in some bullet-style drabbles and smutty drafts for all the ideas i have but don’t turn into full fledged fics. this has been sitting on my computer since the start of me writing ateez fic… so you can think of this as a summer nights alternate version. please enjoy! more to come.

[masterlist]

You and Yunho have been roommates for almost a year, and he was a total stranger when you met him. He was looking for someone to take over his spare room after Yeosang moved out and in with his girlfriend, and you couldn’t afford rent on your own and begged him to take a chance on you.

Over the year you’ve become friends… slowly and steadily

But you’re not an idiot, he’s gorgeous and funny and charming and if you’re not careful you might get a crush on him (or have a crush already)

You’re also completely oblivious to the way he watches you. His eyes tracking you when you cross a room, lingering a little too long on the curve of your ass, the flash of cleavage when you bend over, even the soft cushion of your stomach when you wear tight clothes. He’s frankly trying to not be hard whenever you’re in the room.

It didn’t start out like that, it started out like normal roommates and despite how attractive you were, he wasn’t looking for anything. But then you were funny and clever and infuriating in all the right ways and he just…. can’t stop thinking about what you would look like riding his cock.

And then there was that one time he walked in on you in the shower.

But you had laughed that off, he had laughed that off, truly there was nothing to even talk about because he didn’t see anything it was just a funny accident.

Only he did see a little - and the image of your pert, dark nipples dripping with suds has been his tried and true mastubatory moment for months now.

So when he gets home from work a full three hours early and the apartment is suspiciously quiet, he thinks you probably just went out for a mid-day coffee or ran an errand.

What he doesn’t expect is to walk past your bedroom, with the door wide open, and see you spread out in the center of your perfectly made bed with hand under your panties and your t-shirt pushed up high enough to expose one breast, your head thrown back and your eyes shut tight as you rub yourself, hips jerking into your hand.

You have headphones on, that’s the second thing he realizes, you have no idea he’s here.

And then you say it, a murmured pant of his name.

His cock stiffens up instantly and he jumps back from the doorway. He really didn’t mean to see so much or frankly wait so long to move away, but with the way you were panting, moaning softly, a blush over your chest…. the way he knows you’re thinking about him…. his brain admittedly stopped working for a second.

So he fakes coming home again, shutting the door harder than before and calling out into the apartment, trying to be loud enough that noise-cancelling headphones wouldn’t be enough to completely block out the announcement of his unexpected homecoming.

He drops his boots heavily, keeps talking into the apartment like he’s narrating his day, and then finally he hears the frantic sound of sheets and covers and your laptop snapping shut.

You sound so breathless when you respond, trying to make him believe you woke up from a nap but you can’t get up, you’re half naked and a mess and your door is open

And for a split second Yunho thinks of just giving you your space and letting this little incident pass by without notice, but he can’t because now he’s heard what his name on your lips sounds like and he needs to hear it again

So he shows up in your doorway and for a second he just teases - “How was your nap? Were you having a dream? You look flushed,”

But finally after stuttered attempts at recovery and clenching your thighs together under the covers he just says it - “So, you’re going to stick with the lie? Or are you ready to admit you were masturbating and moaning my name in the middle of the day?”

For a few moments it’s like a stand off… you don’t know how much he saw or what to admit to or if it’s better to laugh it off and tell him he’s hearing things….

But then - “You could have just asked me for help,” he says, a teasing smile on his lips, “but I’m here now,”

And it starts off tentative, Yunho peeling back the covers to get a good look at your body once you tell him you want him, and he doesn’t hide how hard this is getting him at all.

He’s vocal, verbal, and telling you every little thing he’s going to do to you, all the while teasing you for holding out on him so long.

“You must really want my cock if you’re crying out for it while you rub your slutty little clit, huh?”

“How long were you touching yourself? An hour? And you still couldn’t cum, but thirty seconds of my fingers and you’re squirming in the sheets? Oh, you are down bad,”

“Ride my fingers, pretty girl, show me what you like,”

And when you go dazed, dizzy and eyes rolling back at the feeling of his fingers rubbing you, pumping inside you, he snaps his fingers with his free hand - “Focus up, slut, you want to cum don’t you?”

Clenching on his fingers, slicking all over his hand

And he talks you through it when it hits you hard

“You gonna come for me? Yeah you are, that’s it, come on slut, come for me, so wet and messy knowing I caught you, so dirty, so pretty for me, there we go, come on,”

And you’re whining, begging him to get you there, so dizzy and aching

But the minute you start to cum he softens, praising how good you look, sounding so pleased and proud of you in a way that scratches your desperate subby brain just right

You need him to carry you through it, something you’d do yourself with ease, but he picks up on it immediately, watching your desperate, teary facial expression

“Oh, I got you,” He pumps his fingers deep, soothing you with his tone, “let go, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, good girl, that’s my girl,”

By the time you come out of it, it’s to Yunho’s kisses across your thighs, his hands spreading you open wide, “Gonna make you cum again, baby, you sound so good for me, so gorgeous for me,”

Your fingers laced in his hair

His hot tongue

Your aching, pulsing pussy brought to the absolute brink

And Yunho babbling into you as he eats at you, sucks you, kisses and caresses you -

“Wanted to do this for months,”

“Dying to touch you, baby,”

“Want you wrapped around my cock”

He takes you through two more heady orgasms before he kisses you on the mouth for the first time, before you find yourself both naked and rocking your bodies together

Need and pent up desire just taking you both under

Until you’re trembling in the afterglow, no more teasing now, only quiet confessions of how long you’ve both dreamt of this.

After that, you sleep in his bed every night.

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[cei1ne]

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

[machinemonstrosity]

hjust a qusetion but , would you consider writing for the minions of mafioso's...... im really fond of them freaks << 3 3 33 .

WARNINGS - NONE , silly headcanons for mafioso's henchmen , technically not an x reader but i don't know how else to tag it

a/n - i didn't know what to write since there's nothing about these guys other than one render......i'll write more next time, i promise! working through mobile sucks so i apologize if the image sizes and qualities are bad.

Mafioso's henchmen act like goofy cartoon villain sidekicks. While they can be serious and will get the job done, most of the time people are wondering how they even got into the mafia in the first place. They're a capable group of minions — just not the best in terms of scare factor.

To conceal their actual names, they nicknamed themselves with numbers. They also thought it sounded cooler.

ONE (1)

Out of everyone who tried to puff out their chest to claim the title, 1 received it due to being the oldest and most skilled of the group.

He's the most reasonable and level-headed of the henchmen, although that doesn't mean much. They all tend to bounce the same brain cell around like a game of hot potato.

The most stubborn when it comes to the gang's shenanigans and plans. Yet every time, without fail, he'll still cave and tag along. “Can't let the rest of ‘em get in trouble without me.” As he says.

He doesn't really express as much emotion as the others, but he will crack a noticeable smile or chuckle on occasion. Catching 1 letting out a full-on laugh is rare, normally only being something that happens with the rest of the minions. You're doing something right if he laughs around you.

TWO (2)

King of being competitive. Will absolutely take every small achievement or victory of his as a challenge to do better, especially if it's other people's. It happens to be playfully mutual among the others.

2 beats everyone at knife fights. Including 1.

He has a tendency to be the instigator of chaos. When they're inevitably caught causing a ruckus, all fingers are instantly pointing to him. Everyone still gets punished for it despite the snitching.

The tallest of the group. The running joke is that the tophat is the only reason for his placement on the height chart.

THREE (3)

The loudest of the group and the first to humor a terrible idea. That crowbar is always itching to be used.

3 is very short-tempered. He was unofficially banned from handling interrogations as the result of a group vote. The incident still isn't discussed to this day and is somehow still hidden from Mafioso.

Normally the last to show up for duty. This guy is an absolute night owl and stays up until the early hours of the morning. 

Magically, laundry duty always falls onto 3. Very cruel magic that has the other henchmen giggling and smiling like kids in a candy store. Laundry day rotations are basically nonexistent now.

FOUR (4)

Being the youngest of the group, 4 is a certified rookie. It gets him picked on sometimes, but it's all in good fun.

Surprisingly, he's only the second shortest of the group.

One of the most unconvincing gang members the world has ever seen. 4 is friendly to a fault, having gotten into multiple sticky situations in his naivety. His inexperience is sympathized with, but the boys are trying their hardest to toughen him up a bit.

No matter how many times the henchmen get asked about why they joined the mafia, 4 is the only one who never gives an answer.

Around you, the boys would be total sweethearts! They have one rule: if the big boss is alright with you, it's a pass in their book, too. Whether they were ordered to or not, they'll insist on keeping a careful eye on you and ensuring you're safe and sound. Escorts and free lunch are your new normal.

It may be a bit overbearing at times, but their hearts are in the right places.

Just know it won't be them answering the call if you get hurt. At that point, they're only the messengers.

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Ditch the Party...again

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

It's a beautiful day for a party, and Kento is a naughty, naughty goose drunk 🪿💛

And...LINK HERE to the original Ditch the Party

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink 💛

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Kento! Are you nearly done? We've got to go!" You leaned out of the bathroom, smirking at Kento and the scrutinising eyes he ran over your niece's expertly wrapped birthday present.

Kento grumbled, mildly offended; "'Nearly done'," he scoffed, "as if I'd leave it to the last minute. It's been wrapped for a week." You padded over to him, pleased with your gift choices; a knight's costume (complete with sword and shield) and a glittery nail polish set.

"I can't believe she's five already," you crooned, fingers grazing over her gift, wistful. Leaning down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kento smiled into your hair.

"I can't wait," he hummed, the prospect of parenthood filling him with fizzy excitement.

You looked up at him with sternly pinched lips, and an unwavering memory of your last badly-behaved-Kento party attendance; "Well, you'll have to wait. It's child-friendly today. The strongest thing going past your lips is pink lemonade."

You headed towards the door. Kento had the absolute audacity to look at you with total innocence.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Happy birthda-- oh, she's gone."

Leaning down to hug the birthday girl, your niece, was futile-- she darted away laughing, slippery as an eel, into the maelstrom of other children, several dozen boys and girls her own age who had taken over the garden.

The obnoxiously loud party music, screeching kids on the bouncy castle, bustling parents making awkward small-talk, and flamboyant party entertainers turned the scene into a sensory nightmare. You felt Kento lean close, his smooth voice grazing your ear.

"I'll get us a drink, shall I?"

Before you could turn and beg to go with him, he was gone, weaving back to the kitchen with a sly look in his eye. Other parents stepped back from you, the currently child-free sacrifice, and you were as a gazelle on the Sahara.

"Tag, YOU'RE IT--"

You squeaked as a child slapped your thigh, promptly sprinting away. You smirked, tying back your hair, ready to be the cool auntie.

Ready to be IT.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento strolled through your sister's kitchen, nodding politely to the horde of strangers, catching your sister's eye and being beckoned over. She looked sweaty, and harangued, but happy.

"Kento! Drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she bustled around behind her, scooping a ladle into an enormous crystal dish of juice, "Here, you'll need this, I promise. It's not that strong--"

Kento wasn't listening as two big red cups were pushed into his hands, and stared instead out of the window into the garden, his gaze meltingly soft and adoring.

He watched you, hair up, dewy in the Spring sun, laughing as you darted after squealing children. His chest burst, his head a montage of you and him and a fantasy child. Kento sighed, and took a generous swig of juice, thirsty after your long drive. He raised his fine eyebrows, glancing down into the cup.

"I don't normally like juice," he said aloud to your sister, who offered him a guilty little smile, "but this has something about it."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Panting, and being congratulated by your watch for completing a good workout, you lolloped away from the crowd of children, who had now mercifully abandoned you for a live magician.

"Where is that man," you pondered aloud to yourself, as you poured yourself a glass of lemonade in the kitchen, "who promised me a dri-- oh!"

You slopped lemonade down your arm with a squeak of surprise, as strong arms wrapped around your waist, a wet kiss being pressed behind your ear.

"Kento! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd left me," you teased, wriggling away to wash your arms at the sink. Kento hovered behind you, predatory in his affections.

"Leave you?" He began, low and sultry, "How could I possibly, when you taste so--"

Kento was interrupted, your mother leaning past him to give you a kiss. As you spoke with her, you reapplied your lipstick, and Kento felt a wicked lick of heat in his belly, all inhibitions thrown out of the window after three large cups of 'juice'.

Your mother left, and you turned to drape your arms around Kento's neck, ready to be held at arm's length in accordance with his strict ick towards public affection. With a jolt of surprise, you felt his arms lock behind your waist instead, holding you flush against his body, his light slacks and summer shirt (why was his tie loose? how were the top three buttons suddenly undone?) leaving little to the imagination.

"That colour suits you," Kento whispered, husky as his eyes flicked down to your lips, one thumb coming up to slowly brush your bottom lip down, shuddering at the lipstick coming off onto his skin, "but it would suit my cock much better, don't you think?"

You blushed furiously, trying to battle your way out of his arms as he chuckled against your decollete. Your frantic eyes spotted the punch bowl, your sister-- from whom drinks should never be accepted-- and a series of empty cups.

You stuttered up at Kento, feeling yourself throb against your will as his tongue darted across his lips, smearing the lipstick residue on his thumb onto his neck instead. You began to hiss at him, berating, squirming against him to release yourself from his arms.

Kento groaned into you, and you clapped your hands over your face to hide your blush; "Keep that up," he threatened, low and laughing, "and I might just have to tie you up before I cum in my--"

You dropped out of his arms, wiggling under them and whipping your head round to check for other people, before pointing a finger at him. You mimed zipping your lips, eyes glistening, cheeks pink, and Kento felt his cock twitch at you telling him off. You had backed away, but Kento smirked, lopsided, and slowly loped towards you, eyes hungry, backing you into a corner.

"Tag, you're it!" A little hand batted at Kento's leg, and he flipped smoothly, spinning and jogging off into the garden after your niece. You stood, red faced, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, and wondering where to hide to cover your sha--

"You alright? Looking a bit..." Your brother-in-law walked into the kitchen, and finished weakly, unsure if he was about to inadvertently insult you. You smiled, flapping your hand at him.

"Hot," you gasped, "running round after this lot!" He smiled appreciatively, offering you a cup of your sister's deadly punch. You took a swig before holding it away from your lips, coughing.

"What the hell did she put in this?" You sputtered. Your brother-in-law looked sheepish, at least, on his wife's behalf.

"Everything, I think," he apologised, "Kento likes it, anyway--"

"Oh, he would," you snipped, before excusing yourself to the garden. Unable to spot Kento amongst the knights and princesses, your neck prickled, feeling distinctly hunted.

Staring from treehouse, to bouncy castle, to little wooden playhouse, to game of tag, you raised your cup to your mouth, ready to chug a mouthful of Dutch courage-- and you felt a long-fingered, enormous hand pluck the cup out of your grasp from behind, hearing Kento release a hum of satisfaction as he drained your punch in one gulp.

"Gorgeous punch," Kento drawled, slipping one foot between yours and one arm round your waist, "let's dip your tits in it and I can suck it right off."

Without warning, Kento hooked one of your legs from under you as you squeaked at him, and he took the opportunity to heroically catch you before you fell to the ground.

A small cluster of parents looked over to you both. Kento dusted you off, smiling at you, and gently chastising; "you shouldn't drink so much at a children's party, darling."

Your jaw dropped. Wordlessly, Kento abandoned you and hopped onto the bouncy castle with your niece; you sputtered at the faintly judgemental looks from the mothers beside you. Mortified, you moved to the party food table, pretending to organise plates to hide how flushed your face was, and how you had to clamp your legs together to stop the throbbing.

Turning round once you had calmed down, you felt Kento's arms cage you in against the table, just like the last party, and you gaped up at him in mute horror. Kento maintained eye contact, brown eyes twinkling as he reached round you, picking up an eclair from a plate of party cakes.

"Cream-filled," whispered Kento, taking a languid bite, whipped cream pouring from the end facing you. Kento chewed, leaning close to you as he swallowed, tongue darting out to lick cream off his lips, "my favourite."

You could have exploded, your whole body on fire with embarrassment and want. Nearby, your elderly great-aunt cooed as Kento appeared to lovingly offer you a bite of his pastry. You were silent, stunned; she reassured you.

"Don't mind me, dear, take a bite!"

"I'm-- I mean, uh--" you stuttered, and Kento smiled at your aunt, pulling you in sweetly by the hip.

"I think she's full, actually," Kento laughed with your aunt, smiling again as she walked off. Spinning back to face you, Kento's smile was gone and replaced by wolfish hunger again, "but not as full as you could be, all fucked-out on my cock, hmm?"

"Oh my god, Kento," you whimpered, face in your hands, now surrounded by children being invited to the table for lunch. Kento smiled, bending down to pass plates out, before pulling you aside again.

"Say it again," he growled, low and desperate, tucking your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a fraction too long, "but next time, I want it because I'm pulling your hair."

You ran, positively melting, in dire need of a hiding spot. Zipping through the kitchen, past the living room, you rounded the corner into the hallway, finding the nearest cupboard, and darting in.

No sooner had you reached up, pulling a little string to switch the light on...than a hand, strong and determined, closed around the doorframe, pulling Kento into view. You felt faint, both hands pressed over your mouth to stop yourself from audibly gasping.

Kento never once took his eyes off you, stepping into the narrow shelved cupboard, and reaching up for the light pull. The last thing you saw before being plunged into darkness, was Kento removing his tie.

Your senses heightened, you smelled Kento's cologne before feeling his lips on your neck, shamelessly sucking you, tasting you. Kento groaned, loud and shuddering, and he laughed as you slapped him on the chest. You felt him thrust loosely against your belly.

"I love parties," Kento lied, and you scoffed.

"You hate parties, Kento, you just love--"

"Fucking you with words before squirrelling you away somewhere?" His mouth moved lower, shifting your shirt and bra aside to pull your nipple into his mouth, hot and wet and sucking you just a little too hard, "Foreplay, darling."

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Kento's hair, his other hand making quick work of undoing your shorts. Idly slipping his hand inside and underneath your underwear, you bucked against his hand, Kento shivering with glee at your delicious wetness.

"Fuck yourself on my hand," he whispered, husky with restraint, "and we'll see who cums first, hmm? A little competition." You clapped a hand over your mouth as he curled two thick fingers inside you, so long that the edges tickled your cervix and you felt him in your belly.

The heel of Kento's hand pressed flush to your clit, and your hips stuttered as you rolled them against him, seeing stars with the friction, rutting down onto his fingers, holding him by the wrist.

Kento had already undone his trousers in the dark, and palmed his aching cock desperately inside his boxers. Whispering filth to you, sucking and releasing your breast into his mouth again and again with wet pops as he pinched your nipple between his lips, Kento wished he had more hands.

"Keep going-- fuck, good girl-- such a good girl--" he whispered, unable to stroke his cock for fear of cumming down your thigh, his head swimming with your velvety wet walls clenching around his fingers, using his hand as a toy to pleasure yourself.

Kento felt his high begin to creep down his spine, his balls clenching, biting lightly against your nipple and trying not to rip into you like a wild animal. As you felt your own orgasm creep closer, humping the heel of his hand, fucking his fingers as deep as they could reach for relief...Kento removed his hand with urgency.

"--can't-- can't hold back--" he shuddered, shunting down your underwear for better access, "--can't waste it--" Kento grabbed your hand, wrapping it round his twitching cock, and settled his weeping cockhead against your clit, keeping his other hand close.

Wrapping his fingers round yours, keeping himself pressed against your clit, Kento stroked himself fast, his groans building, until they tapered off into stuttering moans. You felt short, hot bursts of Kento's seed hit your clit, and fall into his other, waiting hand.

Kento shivered and swore to feel you rub his cockhead on your clit, using his cum as lube. He had gathered the rest of his cum, thick and white, on his fingers, and thrust them back inside you, not stopping until they grazed your cervix again. Positioning the heel of his palm against your clit again, Kento squeezed your thigh, pulling it forwards to encourage you to fuck his hand again.

You complied, Kento's seed giving you the lubrication you needed, pressing your aching pussy down around his fingers until you felt him deep in your belly again. Kento's mouth and other hand were full, busy with your breasts, kneading and massaging and pinching as he whispered encouragement to you.

"--got to cum-- suck it all up into you-- then I'll fuck it in even deeper--" Kento's drunk filth rolled off his tongue without a filter, going straight to your core, and your orgasm burned through you like wildfire.

Kento kissed you deeply, drinking your cries and whimpers down like liquor. Kento's strong hand thrust you through your ecstasy, feeling your pussy clench and suck against his fingers, leaving barely a trace of his cum behind.

Pulling his fingers out, Kento replaced his hand with his knee to keep you upright against the wall. In the dark, you blushed to hear the wet sucks of Kento licking his fingers clean.

"Ready?" He toned, low and devious.

"For wha--" With little warning, Kento lifted you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pressing his half-hard cock into your pussy, still twitching from your recent orgasm.

Kento groaned into your neck, hot and squirming with overstimulation, letting your incoordinate shocked little thrusts suck his cock deeper, bringing it back to life. He felt himself twitch inside you, growing longer and harder as the blood rushed back.

Drunk on Kento's insistent need to fill you with his cum, you had tuned out the sounds of the party, letting Kento hold your weight and shuddering in delight as you felt his cock warm and swelling inside you. A change in the tone of voices beyond the cupboard snapped you to attention.

"Hide and seek!" cried a little voice in the garden, "You hide, and I'll count...one, two--" A flurry of little screams and footsteps came closer, into the house.

"Kento," you hissed panicking. Kento chuckled against your neck, rutting lazily into you, trembling with the bittersweet tang of overstimulation. Encouraging you to lock your hips round him, Kento looped his tie through the door handle, wrapping the tails around his hand and bringing it back to your arse you hold you up again.

"One more time," he moaned, suckling little red hearts into your skin, "I won't-- won't be long--"

Hearing Kento's wavering voice, so intoxicated by his need to fill you, you slipped two fingers down, shivering as you used the remnants of his cum to rub circles on your clit, deliberately squeezing your walls around Kento until he whimpered against you. Feeling you pleasure yourself around him had Kento reeling.

Kento began to lift you by the thighs, ramming you down onto his cock, now rock solid, and you muffled your squeals into his chest. You heard him growl, shuddering as you bit into his pecs, and it spurred him on to fuck you harder. Clinging on around his neck, Kento felt a rush of satisfaction as to your pussy quivered in response to his brutal pace.

"--so close--" he whined, his breaths hot and panting, fruity with the deadly punch that brought him to this, "--got to-- you first...fuck, so deep--" Kento's arms faltered, and you dropped deeper around his cock with a squeak, the jolt making you convulse with pleasure.

Kento came with a muted growl, biting into you, unable to press himself any deeper than he already was. Overtaken by the euphoria of feeling himself twitch and spurt inside you, hearing you trying to suppress your gasps, Kento thrust lazily into you, finally satisfied, panting as he came down from his high; you flopped against him, lost in delirious pleasure.

Your stomach dropped as you heard little voices outside the door. Kento held his tie taut as hands pulled at the handle, before declaring "it's locked!", the footsteps scurrying away. Kento chuckled into your neck, devious as you slapped at his chest again.

"You need to lie down," he whispered into you, helping you to dress yourself again, filled with anguish as he thought of his cum dripping out of you.

"I do need a lie down," you agreed, still giggling and love-drunk. Releasing the tie and taking you by the hand, Kento peered surreptitiously out of the doorway before spiriting you away to the living room. A set of little boys and girls, dressed incoordinately as princess-knights, sat playing with nail polish and make-up.

They looked up at you both as you approached, taking your rumpled appearances in as evidence of a really fun playtime.

Kento filled once more with wicked intent.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Lying back on the sofa with cucumber over your eyes, your lips were pursed as your niece plastered them with sparkly lipstick.

Kento sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, fingers splayed, nails now covered with nail polish of pink and red and gold and--

"Where did they get this cucumber?" You asked, sniffing, frowning. Kento's jaw twitched, answering after thanking a blushing little girl for her wonderful manicure.

"Sandwiches."

[nyoomerr]

Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

[yan-lorkai]

I have a few ask options if you don’t mind? for my man and loml chrollo lucilfer

1) yandere Chrollo with a really cute and sweet darling who loves the colour pink and her whole bedroom is pink and so is her personality, so he kinda fawns and dotes over her and treats her like glass

2) yandere chrollo with a witty sarcastic darling whose nen has been taken away, and they’re at the beach for a fun day

3) yandere Chrollo with a darling who usually begrudgingly shows affection but she’s been hit with an aphrodisiac from some enemy of Chrollo’s or something and so shes drooling for Chrollo and any touch he’ll give and he ofc loves that

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Those were all interesting ideas but being sarcastic to Chrollo made my brain ache in a good way so I'm going with that idea here, darling! Plus shout out to that darling that said it would be funny if the reader had a more Gen z vocabulary, bcs this got hilarious 😂

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @kurtswld

You sit on the warm sand, the waves crashing rhythmically in the distance, the sun bright overhead. It would be a beautiful day at the beach if not for the man lounging beside you, casually reading a book as if he hadn’t practically kidnapped you here.

Chrollo looks calm, almost serene, but you know better. Behind those dark eyes is a predator, waiting, watching, and ready to strike if you step out of line.

You sigh dramatically, tilting your head back and letting the sun soak into your skin. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here for some... ‘fun in the sun’ nonsense. What’s next? Building sandcastles? Catching crabs and shells?” You glance over at him with a smirk, waiting to see if your sarcasm will get a rise out of him.

Chrollo barely lifts his eyes from his book, but the faintest smile tugs at his lips. “Would you rather I kept you locked up inside?” His tone is smooth, unbothered, almost teasing. “I thought a change of scenery might lift your spirits, plus every human being needs some vitamin D.”

“Oh, wow, how considerate of you,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes. “You take my Nen, kidnap me, and now you’re trying to act like my sugar daddy or something. Real ‘slay,’ Chrollo.”

This time, he looks up, and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. “Slay?” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “Ah, yes. That’s what you say when someone does something impressive, right?”

“You got it, boomer,” you quip, knowing full well that calling him that would only serve to annoy him. You can’t help but grin when you see his eyes narrow slightly. “I mean, if ‘impressive’ is synonymous with ‘murderous psycho who likes playing with his food,’ then yeah, you’re totally slaying.”

He leans closer, setting the book down, and you can feel the shift in the air — the way his attention sharpens on you, even though his expression remains relaxed. “Careful now, darling. I might start thinking you enjoy pushing my buttons.”

You swallow but hold your ground, despite the little thrill of fear creeping up your spine. “Oh, yeah, this is my dream vacation, Chrollo. #KidnapGoals. Maybe I’ll even post about it, if you ever let me have my phone back.”

Chrollo chuckles softly, the sound low and dangerous. “You’re witty, I’ll give you that. But let’s not forget why we’re here. I could have brought you anywhere, yet I chose a place where you could relax. Perhaps you should show a little more gratitude.”

“Gratitude? Pfft, okay, sure. ‘Thanks for ruining my life, now let’s go get ice cream.’” You shoot him a mockingly sweet smile, winking at him while you had the chance. “Honestly, I think you’re the one who needed this beach day. Trying to remind yourself what normal people do for fun?”

Chrollo’s smile widens, and it sends a chill through you. “If I wanted to know what normal people do, I wouldn’t be here with you, darling. But I do enjoy your company. Even if you insist on using those bizarre phrases.”

You can’t help but snort. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m such a vibe, right?”

He tilts his head, considering your words. “Indeed. A most intriguing... vibe.” He leans closer, his lips almost brushing your ear, and your breath catches. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten how you keep testing my patience. There are limits, even for you.”

The warning is clear, but you refuse to let it dampen your spirit. “Noted. But if I’m stuck here, I might as well have a little fun, right?”

He pulls back, still smiling, but his eyes are dark, dangerous. “By all means, darling. Have your fun. Just remember, I’m the one who decides when it ends.”

You force yourself to grin, even as your heart pounds loudly on your chest. “Oh, don’t worry, Chrollo. I’m having a blast. Really. #LivingMyBestLife.”

For a moment, there’s silence between you, the sound of the waves filling the space. And then he chuckles again, softer this time, almost as if he’s genuinely amused. “I do enjoy your spirit,” he murmurs, his voice low. “It makes you all the more interesting to keep you around.”

You know better than to push your luck further, so you settle back on the sand, trying to enjoy the sun while you can. Because with Chrollo, you’re never sure how long these moments of “normalcy” will last before he decides to tighten the chains again.

And his smile is far too scarier to look at for more than 5 seconds. You would rather not look, nor hear him chuckling.

[touchme-teezme]

Why Me?

PAIRINGS | collegeboy!yeosang x fab!reader

TAGS | plot with some porn, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, angsty & high tension dialogues bcs reader and yeosang are in situationship & figuring it out, reader is a player and avoidant, yeosang gets attached too easily. oopsie.

RATING | NSFW 21+ (Minors pls DNI/if it makes you uncomfortable don’t read thx)

SUMMARY | Yeosang realized he had feelings for you at the worst possible moment—now he’s spiralling and needs an outlet. Lucky for you, you’re here. Unlucky for you, it comes with a cost.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | oK this was plot heavy. lowkey in my feelings when i wrote it and i didn’t rlly want smut to be the focal point of all the stories — especially if i didn’t think it fit the members. so we’re trying something new out with yeo’s part. i hope you like it hehe enjoy freaks (complimentary). if you catch any mistakes, no you didn’t. i proofread with vibes not scrutiny.

💌 click here to see my Love Interrupted series masterlist [ot8] — check out the other parts!

inspired by pink matter & bad religion by frank ocean

(frank come home pls i can’t do this anymore.)

Yeosang wasn’t the nosy type—he liked to think he was above that.

Normally, he’d get himself to stop missing you by scrolling through your posts or replaying your story highlights like a perfectly chill (totally not obsessed) person. But today curiosity dragged him into the abyss that was your tagged photos.

And that’s where he saw it. Them.

The two others you were seeing on the side. He’d heard rumours but didn’t believe them until he saw Lee Chan’s hands on your ass as you were hugging him or a selfie where you were a little too close to Choi Yeonjun.

Even he never had a photo with you where your cheeks were squished against each others.

“Relax,” Wooyoung had told him that night he confided in his friend, “It’s normal. They’re probably just on her roster. You guys aren’t exclusive anyway.”

Now, every time he lay flat on his back, staring at a ceiling, his mind went into the same place:

How did you meet them? How long have you been seeing them? Do they know what you like? Or worse—did you touch them the same way you’re touching him right now?

And seriously, how the fuck did you and Yeonjun even meet?

“Yeosang, i’m talking to you.”

“Huh?” His head jerked up at the sound of your voice, only to find you staring up at him from between his legs, mouth hovering just shy of the fabric of his underwear.

His pants were bunched at his ankles, and he was sprawled out with his knees hanging off the bed—one hand casually tucked under his head.

The angle was doing the most to show off how much gym time he and San had clearly been clocking lately.

“I asked if I can—“

“Uh… Y-Yeah, yeah go ahead.”

You sighed, rising from your knees to gracefully mount his body. Straddling him with elegance, you leaned down, your face inches from his clearly preoccupied gaze.

Speaking of gazes, his eyes were your favourite. Your knuckles grazed his birthmark, then you casually swept his hair back.

"What's going on?"

He reacted instantly, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply as he leaned in. You felt his hands glide down your spine, past the hooks of your bra. He shook his head, "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Something’s definitely going on because I was about to suck you off and you haven’t looked at me once.”

Yeosang gently placed his hand on the back of your head and flipped you over, landing you on your side.

He then adjusted himself, kicking off his jeans with a nonchalant flick of his ankle. Scooting closer to your flushed face, his silence was starting to make you a tad more nervous than usual.

“Is everything okay?” You shifted closer to his body.

“I wanted to ask you something, and I need you to be honest.”

“Oh. Sure.” Your eyebrows rose. “But maybe we save the serious talk for after, you know, the fun stuff?” You started trailing your fingers along the faint ridges of his abs.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he stared down at your joined hands. “Do you…” He trailed off, recalibrating mid-sentence. “How long are we going to keep having fun?”

“Well,” you said, blinking like it was the most obvious answer in the world, “A few rounds, a few hours—though if you do that thing I like, I might have to keep you here a bit longer.”

You leaned in for a kiss, slow and deliberate, your lips skimming his bottom lip. His hand slipped to your ass like muscle memory, but instead of diving in, his brain just had to keep working.

“No, not this,” he mumbled between kisses before pulling away with all the self-control and focus in the world. “I mean… this—as in, us. How much longer are we going to keep this going?”

“Oh.” You paused, your eyes darted between his face and the diminishing gap between your bodies. “I don’t know… as long as we want to?”

His jaw tightened, his expression unreadable.

“Do you not want to anymore?” You asked.

“It’s not that,” he sighed. “I’m starting my internship next semester. I just… I needed to know if I have a reason to turn down that offer in Busan.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint hum of the city beyond your creaked window.

“Well,” you said. “I told you…if you want to, you should.”

“So you think I should go?”

“I think you should do whatever makes you happiest.”

“And what if what I want doesn’t make you happy?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a shrug. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“But it does. It matters to me.” His voice dipped, tinged with frustration, though his gaze softened into something you hadn’t seen before.

“So… what do you want me to say?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” His voice cracked just enough to make your chest tighten. “That you want me to stay. That this is something important to hold on to or that…” He gestured vaguely to himself, as if it physically pained him. “…that I’m not just someone you fuck when everyone else is busy.”

Oh.

You sighed, sitting up to rake your fingers through your hair while pulling your knees to your chest.

Maybe it was one of the guys you’d been seeing who ran his mouth. Word gets around campus pretty easily when you have mutual friends. It’s also not like you were deliberately hiding it, but you somehow still felt a little ashamed for him to find out.

Yeosang, on the other hand, looked like he’d rather dissolve into thin air. Maybe insecurity had sucker-punched him or he was catching feelings and scared you’d bolt the moment he brought it up.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he muttered, voice soft and far away. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” He shifted to sit next to you, his posture mirroring yours.

“It’s fine,” You tried to sound reassuring, but the weight of his question hung in the air.

You glanced at him, and damn his side profile wasn’t helping you think straight. “So, what is it? You don’t want me seeing anyone else?”

His sharp inhale said it all. “I can’t tell you what to do, but just so you know, I’m not seeing anyone else,” his voice was rough, like he was trying to swallow the words before they came out. “I don’t even want anyone else. I don’t know how you do it, how you can… be with anyone else.”

Yeosang turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “I just… I want to know if it could ever be… just me.”

He’d meant it when he swore off relationships — especially after what happened to San, he believed that was more than enough to convince him that relationships weren’t worth it.

But the more he saw you, the more his wishes began to crack. The more he wanted it to be only him you came back to.

“What am I to you?” he asked finally, the question breaking the silence.

You swallowed, searching for words that felt like truth but wouldn’t cut too deep. “You’re…” The answer wavered, unsure even as it left your lips. “You’re someone I care about. A lot.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him, trying to drown out the conversation in the only way you knew how.

His fingers gripped your hips tightly, grounding you against him, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the way you were avoiding his question but it melted away when you felt his tongue slip in.

When you pulled back, he was breathless and flushed, his chest heaving as if he’d just surfaced from underwater. His hands stayed firmly on your love handles, and his forehead leaned against yours.

“For fuck’s sake…” he muttered, the frustration thick in his voice. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair like that would somehow untangle the mess in his brain. “Why me?”

“Yeosang?”

He realised right then and there, there was no changing your mind.

He snapped back to reality, his grip tightening as his hands slid down to your thighs. In one smooth move, you were on your back and he was settling himself right on top of you.

Yeosang settled between your thighs. He rocked his hips, grinding himself against you, seeking friction and relief as your lips wouldn’t leave his alone.

You cupped the side of his face, looking up at him between breaks of the kiss to slide a gentle slow finger into his mouth for him to suck as he held your stare.

Your other hand pushed away the curtain of hair falling from his face, admiring his bare beauty in your touch.

You liked how he reacted to your touches, how at a single command he kneels, he’d do anything for you if you’d ask — maybe that’s what scared you in return but you’d never tell him that.

You both eventually fell on your sides, not a single word besides the usual moans and gasps of “yes”, “like that”, and yeosang’s personal favourite: “i need you right now.”

Before you knew it, your back faced him and you were both entirely undressed.

He held you tight, pressing his face into the sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder. His lips trailed kisses there as his hands explored your familiar curves. Your hips ground back against him, rubbing your ass over his erection.

His fingers danced across your stomach before slipping lower. You groaned, feeling his fingers open to a ‘V’ to graze the sides of your entrance with light strokes.

His focus on you was primal and hungry as he started circling the your folds in a distinct pattern. He sunk two fingers deep inside your slick clenching heat, earning a breathy whine that was turning him on relentlessly. Your breath was hot against his ear as you watched him work, your inner muscles clenching greedily.

Yeosang knew your body the best out of the others. He always paid attention to your physical reactions to what you really like and what hurt you. After a while, he got the hang of it pretty damn quick.

Between the gentle caresses and firmer strokes, he was driving you higher, teasing you mercilessly—and yet, he hadn’t even gone all the way. But holding out much longer wasn’t an option; the things you were saying were wrecking his focus, leaving his restraint hanging by a thread.

You’re the only one I want.

You make me feel so good.

I want you so bad.

Don’t get him wrong, the sex was great — but even with you naked in his arms, swearing he was the one you wanted, he didn’t feel it. Because desiring him wasn’t the same as making him yours—and you never would.

You held his face behind you, anchoring your hand on the nape of his neck as he pounded into you with his hard throbbing cock into you at an angle that was blurring your vision.

He was eagerly grabbing a handful of your breast, teasing your nipple between his fingers as he sucked onto your neck, whining against your skin.

He pushed your knee higher. Gripping your side like he was holding on for dear life, he thrust into you with the determination, only to pull out slowly, and savouring the moment.

The increasing pace turned your moans into a symphony of pleasure, loud enough to give the neighbors an unsolicited introduction to Yeosang’s name. They might not have seen him, but they sure knew who he was now.

The sound of skin meeting skin, punctuated by the occasional slap of his hand against your ass made you grin.

“Fuck! Yeosang!” You exclaimed.

“I know baby, I know,” he replied, his voice a low, reassuring rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

His focus unwavering. It was as if he had a singular mission: to bring you to the peak of pleasure and join you there.

He eventually sent you over the edge. You bit down on your lip as he showered you with open-mouthed kisses on one side of your face.

“Shit… Yeosang, that was— you felt so fucking good.” You barely caught your breath.

You held his face over your shoulder and he smiled back, feeling your thumb stroke the side of his face before coming in for a rewarding kiss.

Yeosang had it all—looks, charm, the perfect height for you, and you always had a soft spot for the shy types. Sure, his borderline obsession with video games wasn’t exactly your favorite thing, but hey, at least it wasn’t destructive.

Still, no matter how great he was, Yeosang realised the truth you’d never admit: a relationship wasn’t exactly your thing.

Still, his visit to your neighbourhood didn’t end on that note.

After a few rounds of small talk and a necessary bathroom breaks, you were back to your usual routine — with a few new surprises.

It included him kneeling before your parted legs as you sat on the edge of the bed, watching him savour, and lick up your core. It wasn't long before your leg found its way over his shoulder, trembling and quivering as you held onto the back of his head.

Then came the moment when he held your wrists behind your back, taking you from behind. Fucking. Hell. The spanking returned, accompanied by a string of praises in that low voice of his and it turned you on more than anything else he’d ever tried.

You were so caught up in the bliss and pleasure of the moment, reveling in how he truly outdid himself tonight, that you missed two things:

Yeosang had whispered "I love you" at the peak of his final climax.

And this was going to be the last time.

Yeosang was so haunted by the painful realization that if he ever walked away, you wouldn't miss him.

After all, there were plenty of others ready to take his place by your side, as if he were just another face in the crowd.

He knew you were never going to change your mind, even when he was the one on the line.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, you were fast asleep. Yeosang watched the steady rise and fall of your bare back, the room quiet except for your soft breathing. The faint jingle of his belt buckle broke the stillness as he slipped into his jeans.

He caught sight of himself in your full-length mirror in the corner, you sound asleep behind him, and all he felt was emptiness. The faint marks on his neck and chest—your handiwork—didn’t even draw the usual smirk.

He slipped his shirt back on and crept out of your place, the same way he’d done countless times before.

Standing on the corner of your street, he pulled out his phone and fired off an email accepting the position. One press of “send”, he raised his arm, hailing a taxi without a second glance back.

A yellow coloured taxi pulled up just as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. He climbed in, saying the name of his street and sinking into his seat, completely worn out.

The driver nodded without saying much from the rearview mirror where a string of beads with a tassel hung. The car pulled away from that street.

He stole another glance at Yeosang, whose watery eyes and faraway stare made it seem like the weight of the world was crushing his shoulders.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Yeosang muttered, leaning against the glass. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket, and his gaze dropped to the screen—Wooyoung’s name lighting up, accompanied by that dumb photo he’d set as his own contact picture.

He’d hoped that by the sixth missed call—during the time Yeosang had your arms pinned behind your back—Wooyoung would finally give it a rest.

But if there was one thing everyone knew about Wooyoung, it was that his commitment to annoying his friends was unmatched.

“Fucking finally, where are you?” Wooyoung’s voice came through, loud and chaotic, with the telltale background noise of a busy restaurant.

“Home,” Yeosang lied, voice barely above a mumble and cleared his throat. “Why?”

“Perfect, so you’re close. Everyone’s already here—your roommate, Hwa, the usual. San and Mingi bailed though. Typical. Anyway, you promised you’d show up tonight, so—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Yeosang cut him off, not in the mood for one of Wooyoung’s endless rambles.

Wooyoung, sharp as ever, caught the attitude immediately. “Don’t be a dick. We’ll just see you at the club if you’re gonna take forever.”

“Yeah, sure. Bye.” Yeosang ended the call before Wooyoung could get another word in. He didn’t even flinch when he heard Wooyoung start to curse—cutting him off mid-sentence was the point.

The driver glanced at him as they pulled to a stop at a red light, an eyebrow quirking in silent judgment. “A lot going on, huh?”

Yeosang’s eyes stayed fixed on the city lights, streaking and blurring as they sped past. “You have no idea.”

The driver shrugged, settling back into his seat. “Well, it’s a long drive to where you’re headed. I’ve got time.”

[krirebr]

random hoeing:

Steve catching you in the rain, his white shirt completely soaked and transparent

Ok, this has to be Neighbor Steve.

Warnings: explicit language, more fluff than I normally do, completely unedited, 18+ - MINORS DNI

After Steve caught you ogling him during the heatwave, the tone of your conversations when you run into him in your building has gotten decidedly flirtier. But for whatever reason, that's where it's stopped. As much as you've tried to send signals that you are very open to more, he's never taken you up on it. Which is fine. It's fine. Totally fine. You are very cool with it. The thought of it definitely doesn't make you shrivel up inside. You are so cool.

All of that is the furthest thing from your mind right now, though, as you and your dog run through the rain. It'd been such a nice day, but as you hit the halfway point of your usual longer route, the sky unexpectedly opened up and you and your poor dog were hit by an absolute downpour. Now, finally home, you're both completely soaked and desperate to get inside and dry.

After some fumbling, you get the door to your building unlocked and opened. Just as you're about to get inside and let the door close behind you, you hear your name ring out. You turn around to see Steve hurrying up the path. "Hold the door!" he yells.

You freeze, doing as he asked. Holy shit. He's just as soaked as you, but while you're sure you look like a drowned rat, he very much does not. He– Well. He– He's wearing that damned white t-shirt again. Except it's not white now, it's translucent. You can see everything – that tattoo you spotted before, and a few more to go with it, an incredible set of abs, nipples. Holy shit.

He quickly ushers you inside, thank god, because you can't move on your own, your eyes still stuck to his chest. "Fuck, that came out of nowhere, huh?" he chuckles.

The moment you're out of the rain, your dog proceeds to do her best to shake herself dry, as if the three of you weren't already dripping all over the entryway. "Oh, shit," you mumble, reaching for her without really knowing what to do.

Steve just laughs. And then does it himself, shaking out his golden locks. Part of his hair flops down over his forehead, and you do your best to hold in your gasp. Really it's just so unfair that he could get caught in a rainstorm and come out looking like that. What the actual fuck? you think to yourself.

Except, judging by the way his head whips around to look at you, maybe you didn't think it. Maybe it was more out loud than you'd meant. Oh god. You immediately start babbling, which is unfortunately just as uncontrollable as the initial slip-up you're trying to make up for. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I just– I mean– Look at you!" You throw a wild gesture at him as he just stares at you with his mouth open, trying to take in your ramble. "It's cats and dogs out there and you look like that?? While I–" another wild gesture, at yourself this time. "I just– How is it fair that you're so beautiful??"

"You think I'm beautiful?" he finally manages to interject.

"Huh?" And that's when your brain finally catches up. Oh dear god. What is wrong with you?? You cautiously glance at him to find him staring at you, not upset, but like he's trying to figure you out. Fuck it, you suddenly think. You've already embarrassed yourself. You have nothing left to lose. "You wanna get dinner with me sometime?"

You swear that the smile that blooms on Steve's face is bright and warm enough to dry you both off. "I was starting to worry I was reading your signals wrong. Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

Your answering smile is strong enough to push all the clouds away.

☔

Thanks for the fun prompt, Eva!

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23

[stylespresleyhearted]

🍻 PUB NIGHT W/ CALLUM TURNER HEAD-CANONS

Warnings: nsfw (minor) but still beware. mentions of callum turner’s wonderful penis, quickies, hickies, and giving him head in a bar bathroom.

This is for all my Callum girlies 🫡 This man has become what I yearn for the past month. I find him absolutely perfect and his accent is sexy and he’s so normal and down to earth and funny and I’m in love. Honestly. Special thanks to all the ladies in my Callum Turner discord chat who talked about how amazing it’d be to be his girlfriend and go to a pub with him. I hope you all enjoy & feel free to come into my ask box to yell about Callum if you feel like doing so.

Masterlist can be found here.

| photo collage created by me.

-

• See, Callum’s been so busy doing promo for Masters of the Air and he’s been traveling to different cities and landing new roles. You can’t tag along everywhere; you have school or work or both but he makes sure to call you at least every morning and night and in between he’s texting you silly selfies of what he’s doing throughout the day and keeping you updated. Letting you know he’s still thinking of you even when you aren’t with him.

• He leaves Golo, his dog, with you and demands many videos of him on walks and him playing in the park. Talks to him over FaceTime and makes sure to tell him to “listen to your mum.” He’s also jealous he isn’t home to cuddle with the both of you and he tells you so.

• And when he finally comes home? Everyone is eager to catch up and see him and congratulate him on everything he’s been doing so as much as you wanna drag this man to your bedroom and keep him there, he’s an extrovert and he’s got friends and family to catch up with and projects lined up so he’s dragging you to a pub that isn’t too far from where you live.

• Not before you guys sneak in a quickie though. He takes you from the back, bending you over your make up table and blaming you for getting ready in your bra and panties. This man totally thinks you purposely shape your mouth into an ‘o’ shape to tease him when you’re doing your mascara no matter how many times you tell him it’s a universal girl thing.

• Callum hates when you wear matte lipstick because it stains his mouth and no amount of washing off in the loo will get it off. He also doesn’t like when you wear matte lipstick because you only give him pecks as you don’t want it on your teeth or staining your face.

• He doesn’t mind later in the night when you drag him to the restroom and stain his cock with your lipstick though. He loves it when you’re messy while giving him head. He loves an eager girl.

• You two are the last to arrive even though you arranged the time. There’s some goading from your friends who were all waiting for you but honestly they’re used to your tardiness, especially when Callum’s been gone for more than a couple of days.

• During your tryst he left a hickey on your collarbone and you didn’t bother covering it. Not because he’s possessive but because you loved to feel claimed by him. You don’t care if people think you look “dirty.”

• After greeting everyone he leads you over to the bar and while you wait for the bartender to approach you, leaning on the bar top, he’s got one of his large hands cupping your ass. The. Entire. Time.

• He orders a round of shots for everyone to start the night. There’s a football (soccer) game on and he makes sure to score a seat facing the television with you sat right beside him. He’s got his hand on your thigh or when his elbows are on the table and he’s gesticulating during conversation, you wrap your arms around his bicep and lean your chin on his shoulder.

• You love listening to him talk. Love how his accent thickens when he’s around his mates and it only gets worse the more drinks he has. Sometimes you have trouble understanding him but you nod along and pucker your lips for pecks when he looks to you to confirm some part of his story.

• Callum doesn’t care how many kisses you ask for or if others deem you clingy. This man enjoys all the affection and attention you give him, he loves being loved on.

• Honestly it doesn’t take long for him to say ‘fuck it’ and just pull you onto his lap. Hand on your ass/thigh to keep you close to him.

• Him and his friends talk shit to each other, rooting for opposite teams and your content just being in his presence and watching him relax because you know how much work he puts into his craft.

• The more he drinks, the redder his face gets and his chest begins to get splotchy and he starts to get sweaty but he never tries to detach himself from you no matter how hot it gets. You don’t mind the smell of his sweat or if it gets on you and you have a thing for gently nibbling on the tip of his wonderful dumbo ears as his blushed skin progresses. The first time you nibbled on his ear he thought he had to head to the loo to “take care of you”, he thought it was a sign but he soon realized it’s an affection you bestow on him when you’re drinking.

• Callum presses kisses to the hickey he left against your collarbone. Nonchalantly too, not even to draw attention to it just mid listening to a mate talk he’ll lean over to press his lips against it. You think it’s his way of letting you know he’s still attuned to you, even if he’s in conversation with someone else.

• When your friends finally manage to pull you off his lap and onto the dance floor, he stays in his seat but his attention is split between the conversation he’s in and watching you to make sure you’re okay. He trusts you and he’s confident in himself enough to not be overly possessive he just genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay throughout the night. Doesn’t want anyone spilling their drinks on you or assholes who can’t take no getting too close.

• He holds your clutch/your purse for you to make sure you don’t lose any of your items. And he never complains about keeping it safe for you.

• And you appreciate that he trusts you and lets you handle issues on your own, he truly only steps in when the person isn’t accepting ‘no’ as an answer or being a complete creep.

• You’re the opposite. You trust him but as soon as a female gets to close you make sure to stake your claim. Wrapping an arm around him or asking for a kiss, pulling him towards you and saying “come dance with me, babe.”

• He politely excuses himself from whoever was hitting on him and gives you a knowing chuckle.

• As soon as you’re beckoning him over to the dance floor he doesn’t hesitate to join you. He isn’t shy, doesn’t mind two stepping or grabbing a tight hold on your hips when you throw it back on him to a particularly raunchy song.

• He does blush a bit, but it’s hard to tell because he’s already red from the alcohol.

• You can feel the length and the girth of him against your ass when you press against him. His cock is large and thick and you get wet remembering he didn’t wipe your combined come off before he tucked it back into his jeans after your quickie.

• I will not do this man’s cock justice but we know he’s large. Everything about him is big and his penis head is probably fat, and the tip of it a bit crooked because it’s long and for more mouth watering details read Marina’s cock-versation here.

• When you turn to face him his hands immediately fall to your ass, cupping both your cheeks in his large, warm palms. Your arms around his neck, both smiling at one another all dopey and tipsy and in love.

• If there’s karaoke at the bar you both take turns dedicating a song to each other.

• Maybe even perform a duet.

• You don’t smoke so you don’t join him for any of his cigarette breaks but he only heads out after asking if you’ll be okay or if you need anything from him before he heads out.

• He comes back and wraps himself around you, smelling of cigarette obviously, but you tuck your nose into his neck and breathe deep where the smell of pure him still lies. Sweat and musky and the cologne he sprayed on.

• Callum always asks if he can kiss you after smoking because he knows the taste of cigarettes is overwhelming sometimes and you don’t smoke. Sometimes you cringe your face afterwards and it always makes him laugh. He’ll throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you in and say “sorry, love.”

• He doesn’t mind that you take loads of selfies of the two of you or photos of him or videos to keep in your camera roll. He’s always ready with a funny face or a kiss. (Or he flips off the camera - his go to pose.)

• Throughout the night, he continuously tells you how sexy you are, how pretty you look and that he knows he’s a lucky bastard to have you.

• You’re the one always making sure to order glasses of water at the end of the night. He doesn’t get drunk often and he’ll mostly stick to his Guinness, but you’re prone to waking up with hangovers after one beer.

• If you’re refusing water, he has the bar tender pour them in shot glasses and has you thinking it’s liquor. He finds you cute as hell and is watching you with a huge smile the entire time.

• There’s always a detour on the way home - a stop at your favorite pizza spot a block away from your house. If you have any of your friends with you, Callum makes sure to herd all of you like sheep and get food and water in all of you. He listens to the drunk girl conversation and goes along with anything you say.

• Once your home he helps you take off your lashes and your make up. He knows you always complain and feel bad the next morning when you sleep with it on because you break out. If you’re sober enough to do it on your own he’ll just watch you. Not wanting to get in bed until you’re in bed too.

• He makes sure there’s water on your nightstand.

• Throughout the night he’ll end up detaching from you (even though you always follow) but your first sleeping position of the night is always him curled around you as you back into him. He goes to sleep cupping your boobs because he says they keep his hand warm and he likes the feel of them. He’s a man and boobs are fun okay?

-

[majoryeager104]

Meet-Cute

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pro Hero! Touya X Gn!Reader

Summary: Pro hero Touya Todoroki finds a new favorite cafe

a/n: I tooootally didn’t write this bc I’m planning of opening a cafe or anything ✌️🫠

Warnings: Language, that’s about it hehe

It was a long morning for Touya- his work wasn’t gonna do itself, and add that to the fact that his dad was constantly on his ass for the most random things imaginable, as if looking for excuses to berate Touya just to feel better about his own problems. It was exhausting, so Touya, pro hero name Regulus, would just avoid him at all costs.

Even if that meant hiding in the cute little cafe that had just opened down the street from the break in he had just resolved. He looked around as he walked in, the bell on the door cheerily announcing his entrance as the warm smells of coffee embraced his senses- it was nice, comforting. It kind of reminded him of all the times he’d visit mom in the ward, how they’d sit and drink coffee during visiting times. “welcome in!” Said your cheery voice from the counter. He glanced over, seeing you, clearly too busy to recognize him, or even glance over. He supposed that was better, it meant Endeavor was less likely to find him and criticize him for the next hour. He walked up to the counter- wouldn’t hurt to buy something, it’d probably be rude to just walk in and out again without doing so. You turned around to face him as he approached the counter, moving your hair out of your eyes. “Sorry for the wait what can I get for ya?” Touya stared for a moment, because holy shit were you gorgeous. Hair falling over your eyes, messy, but pretty, your soft gaze reflecting your positive mood, and that smile- he snapped back to reality “uh yeah can I get a-“ he glanced back up at the menu- act normal. His blue eyes frantically scanned the menu “uhh just a latte. Plain. Whatever.” He said, his eyes darting back to yours over and over again because wow. You giggled, nodding as you wrote down his order, and gave him the total. He was totally flustered now, looking back at you with an awkward grin as he regained some semblance of composure.

“So this place just opened right?” He said casually, the blush on his face totally negating his attempts to act causal. You nodded simply as he handed you cash for the order. “Since last week” you chirped, beginning his order. “Nice..” he glanced around. The place certainly seemed new, but it was bustling with people- he hadn’t noticed before just how many were looking at him. Of course. He grinned- being the number two hero was definitely gonna go to his head someday.

“what’s the name for the order?” Your voice caught his attention once more and his eyes flicked back to yours, and he paused. “Uh, Touya.” He said simply, pouting a bit. Did you really not know who he was? He watched as you nodded and continued his order. “I’ll let you know when it’s done, Touya” you said casually, going about your routine. This made him pout even further. Really? He watched as you made his coffee, your patient smile catching his eye. You really enjoyed doing this, huh? “Touya!” Your voice sounded out once more, almost startling him as you slid his coffee over the counter towards him. He’d been so transfixed watching you he hadn’t even noticed you were done. He especially hadn’t noticed that Endeavor was walking around outside, clearly looking for him.

Touya grinned at you, taking the small ceramic cup, his hand brushing yours. “Thanks…y/n” his eyes darted to your name tag. Pretty name. Your eyes widened slightly and you giggled- score 1 for Touya. “Of course, Touya. Come back anytime!” You said cheerily, grinning back at him. “Trust me, I will” he winked- your little wide eyed look clearly worked wonders on his confidence because now he was back to his suave self. You giggled again, and he couldn’t help but laugh too, just because your laugh was so damn contagious for him.

He sat down, his eyes lingering on you as he took a sip of the coffee, his gaze darting back out the window. he definitely did a double take when he finally spotted Endeavor, the fuzzy feelings totally replaced with exasperation and man was he glad that he didn’t get a takeout cup. he laughed once more, turning away to watch you work as his dad searched outside. He’d found the perfect hiding spot.

(Part 2?)

Banner Creds to Artist 🙌🙌🙌 lmk if you recognize it in the comments so I can add their tag here 🙏🙏🙏

[bagels-and-cream-cheese333]

RAPH FICS.

WARNING: I HAVE A FUCKED UP TASTE IN LITERATURE. A LOT OF THESE COVER VERY SERIOUS TOPICS. READ THE SUMMARY I GIVE OF THE FICS AND READ THE TAGS, DON’T PURPOSEFULLY TRIGGER YOURSELF, PLEASE AND THANK YOU, HAVE A NICE DAY. 

Here I am, giving my concerning amount of ROTTMNT Raph fics to you :) the poll I made got an astounding almost 100% yes soooo I’m guessing y’all want these <3 also PS it is VERY IMPORTANT to read the trigger warnings in the actual fic because I might not cover all of them/forget a couple!!

defective by a_rutabaga - oneshot

defective - a_rutabaga - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Prison Dimension Raph tries to protect his brothers, but just ends up hurting everyone (including himself) in the process. It’s not pretty (I’m lying it’s very handsome I absolutely adore this fic.) I will say that it’s made for the prison dimension turtles AU, which you should TOTALLY CHECK OUT. THAT AU IS INCREDIBLE. TW for body horror, mind manipulation and control <3 and just overall bad things happening :)

Survivor’s Guilt by JupiterJimsBootyyyShaker - multichapter, ongoing

Survivor’s Guilt - Chapter 1 - JupiterJimsBootyyyShaker - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

Touches on the guilt Raph has after Leo sacrificed himself, and the consequences of the Kraang. Siiighhhh I adore this fic <3 everything from the overwhelming, debilitating guilt to Raph refusing to leave Leo’s side? Muah. No notes. Perfect. TW for nightmares, vomiting, guilt obv, refusing to eat, and technically self harm in the first chapter.

deep gut by ironAdage - oneshot

deep gut - ironAdage - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

Raph’s trauma catches up to him, and he overeats. Again. And again. And again. Or Raph develops bulimia: the fic. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaa…… oh my god this fic was AMAZING. SHOWSTOPPING. PERFECT EVEN. definitely showed me that I have some things Very Very (that’s two verys) Wrong with my brain, but wtv fuck it we ball. This just shows his mental state and everything AMAZINGLY. Ugh it’s beautiful <3 TW for bulimia, shame, the works. 

Hold On, Pain Ends by douchegrayson <3 - multichapter, completed

Hold On, Pain Ends - Chapter 1 - douchegrayson - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

Raph deals with the aftermath of the Kraang <3 basically another aftermath fic. AAAAAAAA but BRO. This hurt in the best way possible. Absolutely adore this <3 the ending? WOW. NEVER THOUGHT THAT MEDIA COULD TOUCH ME LIKE THIS. Just go read it guys it’s amazing <3

and then.. we have…..

the quarantine series by somethin-strange - multichapter, ongoing

quarantine - Somethin_Strange - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

An entirely new take on Raph’s experience with the Kraang. Genuinely cannot sing enough praises for these fics, definitely some of the best I’ve ever fuckin read. Jesus Christ guys just go read it I need more ppl to talk to about this <3 and honestly it has something for everyone. It has Leo angst, Donnie angst, Mikey angst, even Splinter and April and Casey Jr. get their moments. Honestly TW for like SO MANY things though, mind control, manipulation, themes of SA, needles, major blood n gore, and probably more since those are just off the top of my head. But goddamn is it good. Check it out.

The Foundation by LotusFlair - multichapter, ongoing

The Foundation - Chapter 1 - LotusFlair - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

This has got to be my (tied) second fav raph author ever because WHAT THE FUCK

this goddamn fic. has messed up my mental state. it is rearranging my brain waves as we speak. I can’t think normally anymore this fic is just BURROWED in there. Basically Raph gets excluded by his siblings <3 <3 not on purpose. But damn. It’s written so well. And then mystic powers go brrrrr and then brain n brawn and then sunset duo and then magnetic twins and baby raph AAAAAAA. My explanation skills are absolute shit but cmon. ITS AMAZING. THE CHARACTERIZATION? ON POINT. WRITING? EVEN MORE ON POINT. TRAUMAAAA?? don’t get me started

Eventful Night by The_Most_Neon_Leon

Eventful Night - Chapter 1 - The_Most_Neon_Leon - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

Look guys. I know. I know… only one chapter.. but that will not stop me from aggressively crushing on this fic. I think about it atleast twice a week. I HAD A DREAM ABOUT IT. and chapter two is canonically in the works so <3 basically Raphie has nightmares blah blah comforts Mikey’s there, Kraang angst. Very good fic. Love it. 

ain’t much that’s dumber by rolameny - multichapter, completed

ain't much that's dumber - Chapter 1 - rolameny - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

Guys I don’t think y’all understand the sheer amount of illness I feel about this fic whenever it’s mentioned. The brain worms have successfully wormed into my brain. I can’t even pick one solid thing about this fic to focus on because it’s ALL. SO. GOOD. GO READ IT. also this author is the other author tied for my second fav Raph author (take a shot everytime i say author, you’ll end up dead)

and then just every single one of somethin_strange’s raph fics ahem ahem who said that.

One of Them Days by goldenspecter - oneshot

One of Them Days - goldenspecter - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

Can you tell my ability to summarize these fics is going down auwjekcmwkjw… anyway. FANTASTIC FIC!!! Love when Donnie comforts Raph <333 Raph with depressive episodes my beloved <333 brains and brawn will never fail to get my brain going vrrooommmmmmm

Several Studies in Scarlet by douchegrayson <3 - multichapter, ongoing

Several Studies in Scarlet - Chapter 1 - douchegrayson - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

Ooooaoahwhwkdkdm this is LITERALLY SO GOOD. I mean everything by douchegrayson is but THIS ESPECIALLY <3 LOVE IT <3 the fourth chapter… definitely hit different. Honestly I absolutely love the idea of this,  it’s always been bouncing around in my brain that Raph was fundamentally different from his bros, but this chapter put that into words in the best way possible. Also love how short it was but how I was able to feel every sentence <3

Anyhow that’s all!! For now. I have like 100 more but I’m getting a lil tired from summarizing them so if the people want a part two then it’ll likely just be same title format, links to the fic, and a copy/pasted summary.