#this one's been nearly done and in my drafts for a while

[a-mint-bear]

Make Me Yours

Male Yandere x Reader

Part 2: "Your One and Only"

"I just... really wanna put a collar on a cute guy."

You didn't even mean to say it out loud, but your best friend since middle school had always been super open with this sort of stuff. You've always been the first one she texts when a date goes really well, or really terribly. And a lot of your coffee meetups, like this one, devolve into her oversharing all the juicy details of her relationships.

"Oh wow." She nudged you with a grin. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

Unable to meet her eyes, you try to defend your stray thought. You remind her of some of the jerks you've dated, how their assertive and self-assured personalities had all quickly turned into a bit too aggressive and controlling. In certain situations, in controlled doses... that could lead to a nice time. But it's all fun and games until you try to explain away some of their worse moments to your coworkers and swiftly realize you're in "that kind" of relationship. You wonder if you give off some kind of energy that attracts creeps...

The thought of finding a guy who would not only let you take the reins but maybe even prefer you taking charge? It gave you a little thrill you're almost embarrassed to admit.

"Well, it's nothing to get all twisted up over." she shrugs, taking a sip of her iced latte. "You'll find the right guy that's into that kind of thing."

You smiled, she really was trying to encourage you with this, and it was oddly sweet of her.

"Oh, look!" she scooted closer to you, showing you her phone screen. "There's tons of collars you can get. You thinkin' like leather, classic S&M style? Or somethin' more cutesy?"

Maybe a little too encouraging, sometimes.

~ Somewhere very close by...~

His hands were shaking. Your words were playing on repeat in his head, drowning everything else out.

As if you weren't already perfect. He'd been so jealous of you meeting up with your friend, but if it made this conversation happen so he couldn't be too upset about it. He'd been trying to think of some way to make you his for so long... But being yours? Wearing something like that? Something that said he belonged only to you?

He was already yours. But a little proof never hurt.

. . .

It was late, and you decided to cut through the park to get home quicker. It was a pretty safe area, but you didn't want to be here any longer than you had to be. A few lights lit up the main path and you didn't see anyone else around.

But that didn't mean you were alone.

"Hey..."

You spin around to see... some guy. You'd never met him before, but he was... making A LOT of eye contact.

He was cute though. Soft, fluffy hair and piercings in his ears, his bright eyes poking out from beneath his bangs. And he had at least six inches on you, but not really an intimidating frame, a bit skinny too. The way he was looking at you was making you nervous, but you weren't sure if it was a "Oh, this is unexpected." kind of nervous or a "You're gonna end up in his basement." kind of nervous.

"You probably don't remember me but, uh...we had a few classes together last year and…"

He seemed really nervous himself, trailing off with some color in his cheeks. You tell him politely that you were sorry, but you didn't remember him.

"That's okay, uh..."

He was breathing kind of funny, his eyes still staring into yours. You asked him what he needed, hoping it would speed this along and you could leave.

He took a breath, and all you could do was stare, wondering if you should distract him and make a break for it.

"I... I've liked you. For a long time. It's like... like everything about you is just so... wonderful! Seeing you every day keeps me going! I was okay just watching but then... Sorry, sorry. I'm c-coming on too strong, I..."

He took a step towards you, moving like he was going to touch you, but you instinctively took a step back. He looked a little hurt.

"No, no please, don't be scared! I just... I thought it was the right time... I've been thinking about this for so long! I just wanted to..."

He dropped to his knees and the look in his eyes was almost...like he worshipped you. Like you were everything to him and nothing else mattered. It was a bit overwhelming...

"I heard you talking to your friend the other day. Not, uh, not in a weird way, I swear! I-it's just... It's all I can think about..."

He stared at you, a glimmer of something in his eyes. You could see a tremble in his hands, like he was debating reaching out for you again. But he was holding himself back.

Seeing him kneeling, looking up at you with a want that burned into you... It was doing something to you.

This was a weird, kinda scary, unbelievable situation. But it felt so...

Good.

You felt bold. Deciding to go for broke, you finally spoke again.

You asked him to tell you what he wanted.

You could see the tremble shoot through his frame, the smallest, quietest gasp when the your words finally registered.

"I want... I want you to look down at me, just like this! I want you to run your fingers through my hair and tell me I'm a good boy. Your good boy! I want to cuddle up to you and hear your heartbeat while you hold me, I... I want you to use me... I want you to yank my collar if I get too excited and tell me to behave."

He laughed softly at the thought, this guy was completely smitten.

"I want to be yours, if that'll make you happy..."

He reached into his back pocket, you heard the gentle clink of the collar before you saw it. It was like some kind of odd proposal, except he was down on both knees.

He held it up to you, his eyes clouded with a want that made your face feel hot.

So painfully slowly, you reached out for him, your fingers flinching back for a split second, rational thought desperately trying to break through. But despite all the reasons you could think this was completely crazy, you still wanted this.

You touched his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to lean into your hand with a contented, dreamy sigh.

The power he was giving you was... new, exciting, maybe a bit intoxicating. And he was offering it all so willingly, you wondered if this was all a dream.

"I wanna be your good boy..." His voice was soft but pleading, almost desperate. "Please..."

His smile was making your brain feel fuzzy, seeing him looking up at you like you were his whole world.

"Make me yours."

[setaflow]

If you're wondering why I haven't posted any thoughts about the Rangers' offseason moves, it's because you're probably not gonna like what I'm gonna say about it lol.

[bonebrokebuddy]

Danny is just regarded as the fuckin strange occult wizard man of chemistry. The best (and worst) part is that he’s so damn used to the way his parents taught him how to do chemistry that he doesn’t give instructions with proper measurements when demonstrating the lab in class. Like, what are the moles? What are the measurements that are needed for this? What materials will you need? Nah. 

Danny opens the demonstration with, “Just a warning, half of the steps I will be showing you in this demonstration will not actually be featured in the lab. I didn’t have [chemical], [chemical], or [chemical] but I did purchase some household cleaning and beauty products from dollar tree that I finished isolating them out of 30 minutes before class."

“And for [chemical], you can make it out of these two, so that’s taken care of.” 

“I made sure to order more but it won’t come in until next Wednesday. So don’t worry, when you do this lab yourself, you will not need to do these steps, but I figured it would be a good learning experience.”

“I only had the time to dilute the chemicals before this period, so I apologize.”

“Dr. Fenton? 

“You want me to buy water? No. I’ll dilute the chemicals myself. I don’t really have proper PPE besides gloves and safety goggles, so I’ll just have to make do.” 

But it’s just something he’s done so much before the verbal instructions are like, “Put enough in until it looks like there’s enough” 

For the lab instructions for the students, he has a worksheet with the the actual recipe in standard measurements but when he’s showing the class how it’s done? Rough measurements BABEY

The way he’s doing it, there should be a massive fucking margin of error and he should absolutely not be getting the product he wants because that’s not how chemistry should Work. The lab required a micropipette and he’s doing it by eye. 

Like, maybe people who have 30+ years working in their field with something they have done a bajillion times. But absolutely not a 25 year old who has a degree in Mechanical Engineering and got his PhD last year! And even then, doing it by eye is just asking for you to fuck up and waste your materials. 

Why does Danny work as a chemistry teacher when he has a degree in Mechanical Engineering? Well, Danny got an emergency teaching certificate because he took a lot of chem classes in college and Gotham Academy was desperate. The chem teachers in Gotham have had a trend of getting themselves in deep shit from criminal organizations threatening them to order chemicals needed to manufacture [x] toxin or drug. And they’d agree because it was for a ridiculous price, but if the chem teachers weren’t able to supply them enough or the criminals couldn’t get what they got the chemicals for to work, they’d blame it on the chem teacher and not their shitty chemistry practices or storing, and they’d get killed. So, Gotham is running short on demand for chemistry teachers. It’s also how Danny found out what was in the fear toxins. Small criminal organizations didn’t have big reach to other means to get chemicals in bulk so they’d go to where they know chemicals can be ordered: schools for chem. And the small criminal organizations try to replicate the toxins based off what they’ve heard is in them. Based off the previous Chemistry teacher’s ordering history, Danny was able to get a fairly good guess to what’s in it.  And if Danny was Really good at chem (like fictional mad scientist level good), then through tinkering around, he was able to find out what was missing. Tim is now baffled.  

How the fuck this guy who teaches the shop classes also know enough about chemistry that he can make a fear toxin antivenom without ridiculously high-tech equipment with stupid levels of precision measuring????

Danny just shrugs if he’s asked. He’s used to helping his parents in the lab. I mean, do you think the Drs Fenton actually praticed good sterile technique? Or proper lab safety? Or actually measured or recorded their experiments by moles or standard measurements or anything? Or isolated chemicals from anything but cheap household cleaners? Or ordered at anything less than the highest concentration they could and diluted it themselves because they weren’t going to pay for water.  Fuck no. They learned how to adapt based on what they had and learned how to do it based on sight, smell, heat, color, taste, etc. (​Yes, taste. There’s a reason ectoplasm is stored in the fridge and it’s because they think it’s safe for human consumption. It’s one of the reasons the Drs. Fenton were dismissed by the scientific community. Their experiments didn’t have precise measurements and had a very low chance of the results being replicated because of how they did it. The biggest challenge Danny had in chem classes in college was writing lab reports.

He almost always got his results right but couldn’t explain it, because it was just “I did it until it felt right” and the profs did Not accept that so he had to get used to actually using standard measurements. And now here we are in the aftermath of Danny’s lab for fear antitoxin in Gotham Academy. He was trying to be relatable with these Gotham kids and give them a lab that would be practical and something that they’d actually use to get on the kid’s good graces.

And now he’s being investigated by Batman. 

... Fuck.

Short DPXDC Prompts #468

Danny is a Chemistry teacher at Gotham Academy. His favorite student is Tim. He shocks the students by teaching and creating a Fear Antitoxin for the kids to learn as part of their curriculum.

[yueebby]

4:36am – gojo satoru

synopsis. satoru is dying (he has a fever) and he needs his darling wife (you) to nurse him back to health 

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, even in sickness gojo can still flirt, he yaps a lot abt marriage and he’s kind of perverted, but he’s just so in love why dont you just give him one chance?

notes. i tried to make this very shoujo-esque. cant have a good shoujo anime without a fever episode!  this has also been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. enjoy yet another fic of me showering satoru with affection (sigh).

the cold wooden floors of your dormitory creak underneath your waddling feet. your sleepy haze does not deter you from the strong desire for a cold glass of water.

surprisingly, the usual dark communal kitchen is illuminated by the small lightbulb inside of the fridge. you hear shuffling of some items from the white icebox, removing any ounce of sleepiness from you. it was unusual for anyone to be up at four in the morning.

a tuft of white hair peeks over the refrigerator door, giving the culprit’s identity away.

“satoru? i thought you were still on that mission in sendai?”

the sounds of digging pauses. satoru’s rises to his full height, towering over the rundown refrigerator door. he gives you a crooked smile that you rarely see. it’s dopier than one of his signature cocky smiles.

“missed me? don’t worry, i tried to speed run it since i knew i had such a beautiful woman waiting for me back home.” 

you placed a hand on your hip, scoffing at his pathetic attempts to flatter you. a snarky response was about to fall from your lips, but a series of painful coughs from the lanky male stopped you. 

you recoil back to avoid his germs. “gross. are you sick?”

satoru sniffles, pointing his nose in the air. the same nose that was starting to turn pink from irritation. “i can’t get sick. it’s physically impossible.” 

“don’t be stubborn, satoru. why didn’t you call for help?” 

he huffs, eyes trained to the floor. “it’s too early. shoko’ll kill me for waking her up.”

sometimes you forget that satoru had an image to uphold. he was the great gojo satoru, after all. 

but if you don’t take care of him, then who will? and despite your disdain at the thought of coddling his ego, it was only basic decency to take care of a fellow peer (or that was what you’d like to convince yourself).

silently, you place the back of your hand to his forehead. you’re not surprised by the warm sensation that you feel. 

satoru’s hazy eyes watch as you move your hand from his forehead to his cheek.

you purse your lips in concern. with the way satoru was stubbornly denying that he wasn’t sick, you were nearly certain that he was indeed not fine. without warning, you grab the collar of his white t-shirt and pull him to your room.

“at least take me out to dinner before~”

“shut it.”

it wasn’t hard to get satoru to settle in your bed. in fact, he seemed giddy at the opportunity. while he was happy cuddling with your rilakkuma plushie, you came to two conclusions: either satoru had a wound from his mission that got infected, or he was simply sick.

knowing his pride, you lean towards the former.

the boy in question winces when you grab his shoulders to inspect the damage done to him. the sounds of furious pats and heavy breathing is the only thing you can hear over your rapidly beating heart as your hands run down his body to check for any injuries. satoru sucks in his breath when your hands cup his cheeks to loll his head to check for any damages done to that pretty face of his. 

his body tensing up doesn’t go unnoticed by you. your imposing hands immediately retract, afraid of inflicting any more damage on him.

“where is the wound?!” your frantic eyes meet his blissed out ones. 

satoru sighs happily, lazily grabbing your hands to bring back onto him,  “there isn’t one, this just feels nice.”

your chest angrily puffs up before you shove him into your soft mattress. he grunts, but you know it didn’t hurt.

“[name]!” he whines, rubbing the arm that cushioned his fall.

you cross your arms angrily, “you scared me!”

gojo mimics your actions, crossing his arms while weakly glaring at you. his efforts to intimidate you prove futile as he shivers uncontrollably, resembling a newborn kitten.

sighing, you delve into your closet, emerging with an oversized black sweatshirt that you toss to him.

he catches it with ease, a chuckle escaping while he inspects the sweater, “i never took you for the type to wear this.”

“....that’s not mine.” you give a nod in the direction of the men’s sweater. the sparkle of amusement vanished from satoru's eyes, coinciding with his jaw dropping.

his grip on the dark sweatshirt tightened while his head darted back and forth from you to the clothing item. “then whose is it?!” 

“suguru’s.”

you think that you’ve broken him when his face scrunches up in disgust. it’s laughable how his mouth had managed to stay wide open the entire time.

“sugu-suguru?!” he splutters. you slowly nod, careful not to make any sudden movements that could provoke him any further. “why– how– explain yourself!”

you cast an uneasy glance at the sweater, finding it challenging to summon any recollections of how you obtained it, especially with satoru's piercing cerulean eyes fixed on you. his scrutinizing stare has the power to reduce you into a puddle.

“well? go on,” he urges you when you stay silent. 

“it’s nothing, really. i believe it was from that mission i had with suguru a while back. somewhere up north. i had packed light and suguru offered me his sweater.” you tap a finger on your chin to recall the memory. “i guess it just slipped my mind to return it.”

“slipped your mind, huh…” satoru sniffles before letting out a sneeze loud enough to wake up japan. you nearly jump out of your skin.

“suguru was just being friendly… and be quiet! yaga will have our heads if he finds you in the girls’ wing!” you warn the weary boy in front of you, prompting him to respond with a dramatic sigh.

“how mean!” he whines before making a pained expression. you quickly rush to his aid. when you make it to his bedside, satoru weakly hands you a clean tissue.

you stare at it blankly.

“be a darling and help me blow my nose?” he gestures for you to hold the tissue up for him. all you can hear are muffled whines when you shove him underneath your plush covers. 

when your flurry of attacks ends, he cautiously lifts his head from beneath the sheets. to his surprise, a steaming bowl of bitter melon miso soup is presented to him. while the broth isn't your personal favorite, shoko appreciates its bold flavor, spurring your decision to prepare it the night prior. despite its bitter components, the concoction had a perfect track record of treating illnesses. you have your brown haired friend to thank.

perhaps it was cruel of you to take enjoyment while he eyes the bowl in horror. you know his sweet palate couldn’t handle it.

he looks up at you with big pleading eyes while shaking his head. you roll your eyes.

“c’mon, it won’t kill you.” the bowl inches closer to him by your doing. “please?”

satoru's pallid complexion contorts into a hesitant frown. "i’ll eat it…” he concedes reluctantly. however, his gaze lingers on the bowl with a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance. you respond with a hopeful smile, but it fades when he adds, "on two conditions."

“this is for your own health, not mine satoru.” you remind him.

“doesn’t it pain you to see me suffer?” he brings up, eyes glittering in the darkness.

you suck in a breath. “...not really.” lie.

“you wound me, love.” he clutches his shirt like he has been critically hit. 

you bite your lip, tired of his theatrics. “what are the two conditions?”

just like that, gojo comes back to life.

“condition number one! you have to feed me.” he points one finger into the air, paired with an innocent smile. “and two: i want you to warm me up like that night in our first year.”

an unflattering appalled expression is cast over your face. no words leave your mouth for a good minute. “y-you’re disgusting. why are you the way you are?”

“love,” he sighs. “anyways, what kind of wife wouldn’t feed her husband while he’s dying?”

“satoru,” you warn. he was starting to babble nonsense again. “if i accept your conditions, will you shut up?” your eyes were starting to feel heavy. it was the middle of the night, after all.

he nods fervently.

carefully with the bowl of soup in hand, you gently squish yourself next to satoru on your full sized bed. the tight fit left you little room to move, forcing the two of you to nestle closely to each other. with a gentle maneuver, you rest your head on his chest. his arm slowly drapes itself protectively over your shoulder.

“your heart is beating awfully fast.” you whisper, tilting your head upward to take a glimpse of satoru’s feverish face. his breath hitches.

he takes a hand and holds your head back onto his chest to prevent your movement.

“shut it. i didn’t think you would actually accept my conditions.” he mumbles.

“don’t get used to it. this is another moment of weakness.”

you stir the spoon in the broth, basking in the silence of the night, save for satoru’s erratic heartbeat.

“this is very intimate isn’t it?” he gushes. “it’s almost like we’re married—”

“keep your side of the deal,” you remind him, lifting a spoonful of broth up to his mouth. satoru looks straight into your eyes as he opens his mouth to receive it.

his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, “i’m going to tell our grandkids that we were written in the stars.”

you shove another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

extra notes

satoru magically recovered from his fever the next morning.

his second condition (for you to warm him up like that night in your first year) refers to this fic from earlier on in the series.

satoru also made you promise to never accept another hoodie from suguru. if you needed one, satoru was more than willing to give you his! (you halfheartedly agree, only because he was acting all delirious because of his fever).

as of right now, there have only been three occasions where satoru has fallen asleep in your presence. he can testify that those were the best nights of sleep in his life.

shoko went into your room for a spare pair of stockings the next morning only to find you tucked into gojo’s chest. she chases him out of your room all while calling him a pervert . bless her heart.

[delusional-day-dreamer]

New Year's Kiss - p.b

‣ paige bueckers x reader

‣ wc: 3567

‣‣ synopsis: you were known as one of the calmest, most well-tempered players on the ucon wbb roster. so what happens if you lose your cool for the first time in a game? takes place at the uconn vs notre dame game on dec 31, 2022: based off this post/req from my nonnie 🫶, and lowk inspired by paige's bloody nose at the uconn vs seton hall game!

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys.... i'm so sorry for being so inactive but the writer's block hit me HARD. I have a few more drafts in progress I hope to release this week, thank y'all SO MUCH for the support and patience! Also, for the opponent in this game i refer to her solely as the, "marquette girl", as i don't know their players that well and don't want to use an irl girl!

Up until the second half of the game, everything had been going decent for you. Sure, this game was one of the most aggressive of the season, but you were right in the peak of your season, so it made sense that emotions were running high with the pressure to do well.

But that didn't excuse the fact that the Marquette girl that had been assigned to defend you had been playing dirty the entire night. After the fucking hellish week you had just gotten through, this girl was about to be the straw that broke the camel's. your, back.

After Paige's acl tear in August and the work and energy you had been endlessly pouring into your game from the past two and a half years till now, you had basically solidified your place as one of the main starters on the team, which meant you were receiving a lot more consistent playing time. The thought of being a more prominent player on the team didn't panic you the way it might others, as you you were known for always being a very level-headed, reliable player under pressure, as you had been dubbed by the media as the "Silent Assassin". But tonight was proving to test your limits to the max.

Any time you were on the court for the first two quarters, the Marquette girl had been glued to you, illegally all up in your space, pushing and shoving at you, taunting you over and over again, and even tripping you once when you lunged for the ball. All of which she had done without receiving a single foul, which not only pissed you off, but also your teammates on the court, the players on your bench, and your coach.

And of course, the one time you had defended yourself against her in the second quarter was the only time the ref called a foul on both of you. She had nearly pressed herself up against you the second your hands came in contact with the ball, leaving you with no choice but to pass to your teammate Aaliyah to sink a layup, when she hooked her arm through yours and pulled just as the ball left your hands.

Her unnecessary aggression caused something to snap inside of you, as the second you felt her yank on your arm, you turned around to push her off of you, hard. She stumbled backwards a little bit, not tripping or hitting the ground in any way, but the damage had been done in the, very biased, eyes of the refs.

The two of you rapidly reacted, approaching each other as you were yelling out meaningless threats and a long string of curses. Thankfully, your teammates holding the two of you back firmly, preventing any further physical altercations.

The two of you both received technical fouls for the unnecessary physical contact and unsportsmanlike behaviour. However, the foul you received only irked you more. Why were the only fouls called on her when it involved you pushing back? Could they not see the way she was treating you the entire game?

And of course, Geno wasn't thrilled about one of his starters getting a tech in the first half of the game. While benched, he had chewed you out for losing your temper at her, especially for cursing, which was something refs never let slide. But his reprimands didn't hold the usual level of anger or frustration, as he internally agreed that the Marquette girl had it coming for her, but, he had to remain professional.

Of course basketball was a physical sport, and with aggression came some conflicts with other players, but her behaviour tonight was unprovoked and incredibly aggravating to you. Which only worsened in the third quarter.

After your tech, you had been trying your best to ignore the incredibly annoying actions of the Marquette girl, but you simply couldn't anymore after she had purposely elbowed you in the nose to make her shot.

You immediately stumbled backwards, folding over at the waist as your hands came up in an attempt to alleviate the intense throbbing your nose felt. You could feel the blood begin to dribble down to your lip as you walked over to the bench with Lou escorting you, awaiting the ref's call.

The refs decided to not call a foul on the other girl, claiming that she hadn't reached backwards on purpose, it was simply the angle of her basket and granted UConn two free throws. The call enraged you, and something inside you snapped. You very quickly forgot about the tissue you were firmly holding at your nostrils as you approached him, insisting with him that the call was blind and blatantly biased.

You hadn't noticed the blood resumed to flow down your face while arguing until it hit your mouth, but you paid no mind to the taste of iron that filled your mouth as you persisted angrily speaking to the ref.

"Paige, go get her before she gets another tech," Geno whispered into Paige's ears over by the bench.

She nodded at him, making her way over to you to pull you away from the ref who was now threatening to eject you from the game.

"Okay enough, you need to get checked out by the team medic," Paige wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you away from your heated conversation, despite your struggle against her. She wasn't that much taller than you, but the extra two ish inches she had on you were proving useful right now.

She dragged you over to the bench, ignoring your many protests. She pried the used, bloody tissue out of your fingers to toss to the medic waste bag, grabbing new ones from her hand to help your bloody nose. It was apparent to everyone on your team, even the fans watching, that your stubbornness wouldn't allow you to accept the call that easily and allow the medic to clean you up. So, Paige would just have to do it herself.

Since your first day on the Uconn campus, you and Paige had become extremely close. With the two of you being assigned roommates your freshman year, the COVID year, it would've been impossible to not become best friends, considering the fact that you spent all of your time together.

If not at practice or hanging out with the team, the two of you were trapped inside your dorm, forced to find company within each other for the entire year. And with Paige's injury her sophomore year, you were one of the only people she was able to open up to, other than Azzi, and you had become her comfort during her rehab time, both then and now. Despite no longer being roommates, you two still always hung out at each other's respective dorm, even having frequent sleepovers.

Your incredibly close relationship wasn't left unnoticed by the media either, especially social media platforms like tiktok. When Paige and Azzi denied the relationship allegations at the same time you made it clear that you liked girls, the internet quickly refocused their attention onto you and Paige, and neither of you had the heart to deny any rumors circulating. Considering that after Azzi, you were the least active on your social media when it came to anything other than basketball, it wasn't too hard to ignore the internet's speculation.

All of which to say, Paige had made it incredibly easy for you to catch feelings for her. Until her, you had never known what it was like to be completely head over heels for someone. The way your heart skipped any time the two of you made eye contact, the way your cheeks flushed when she brushed against you, and the chemistry the two of you shared on and off the court was undeniable.

Unbeknownst to you, she felt the exact same way, and for the last two years, everyone but you two could see the feelings you harbored for each other.

If only you could feel the way her heart was beating as she held your face in one hand, using the other to apply pressure to your nose and wipe away at the blood on your face, neck, and jersey as she listened to you rant about the refs and how they were cheating you guys out of fouls the entire game. Although, she wasn't able to focus on the words coming out of your mouth, only the plumpness of your lips as they moved, something you noticed as your verbal attack slowed down so you could take a breath in between your sentences.

"She's literally fucking stuck up my ass and the refs ignore her which is actual bullshit, the amount of times this girl has literally made unnecessary contact or-, Paige are you even listening to me?"

Her lingering gaze on your mouth quickly snapped up to your eyes, a sheepish smile settling onto her now flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah sorry."

She wiped the remaining blood from around your nose before calling over the medic to check your nose. A small bruise had formed near the bridge, but thankfully it wasn't broken. While she was checking your nose, Paige did her best to avoid meeting your curious stares.

Of course the two of you had small moments where you could envision that Paige felt the same for you. But never one that was so blatantly obvious as her staring at your lips, especially so publicly.

Nonetheless, you barely had time to analyze the interaction before the medic was clearing you to return to the game, Paige patting your butt (this) as you jogged by her to sub back into the game, which, until the handshake line, went without any further incidents, despite your team beating them by 13 points (HVL VS TEXAS Y'ALL).

When passing by you, you heard her mutter under her breath, "fucking bitch," in response to your half-hearted, "good game". It was safe to say you didn't take that well, responding to her with, "you wanna come say that to my fucking face? Pussy ass bitch." For both of your sakes, Dorka and one of her teammates were able to keep pushing the two of you down the line and out to the lockers before the post-game conference with Lou, Nika, and Dorka, which Geno insisted you attend to apologize for your behaviour.

***Small Time Skip***

"So Y/N, the multiple incidents that occured tonight with you and (BLANK) from Georgetown, do you have anything to say about them? I mean, you're known for being a very calm and collected player, but tonight we saw a very different side of you," a reporter questioned you. The questions for you from tonight's post-game conference mostly avoided the fight, treading the waters carefully as it was unlike anything you had ever been involved in.

"I'm not gonna try and cover for myself or anything, it was unprofessional and unacceptable for me to lose my temper on the court like that. Like you said, I've always tried to place an emphasis on just basketball when playing and avoid any other personal feelings or problems, but I guess tonight I didn't do as good of a job on that as I could of. This is something that I will keep in mind for all of our upcoming games as that's not the kind of image or reputation I want to set for myself or the team I represent. I would never want this kind of behaviour to be defining moments from our games because my teammates really put their all into every single one of their games, especially tonight's, and I don't want to create any personal animosity with the girls on the Marquette team, as I have a lot of respect for them."

Your diplomatic and cordial answer had appeased majority of the reporters, along with Geno and the team publicist in the back corner of the room. Except for one nosy reporter who seemed unhappy with your tactful response and was practically feining for drama.

“This one is for y/n, but with the events of today, you mentioned that you try to keep all personal feelings off the court. Is that an implication of some external underlying tension or problems between you and number (BLANK), as the two of you got quite physical today?”

What the fuck? Now they really were trying to start something between the two of you that never existed in the first place.

“No not at all. I have no connection with number (BLANK) off the court and don’t even personally know her. As I mentioned before, I have nothing but respect for the girls at Marquette and there are no hard feelings on my end. You know, basketball is a physical contact game and that just means that there a few rough moments here and there, it’s just part of the game.”

If they ask any more stupid questions about you and the Marquette girl you were actually gonna lose your mind. Especially if they somehow tie in the fact that you like girls with the fight.

Which, thankfully, they ended up dropping the fight for the rest of the interview, and you and the others were finally allowed to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve the way they had originally planned to.

The whole team, and Kayla of course, was prepared to celebrate at your favorite local bar, Ted's. All of the girls who were taken were bringing their partners along and those of you who were single were all ready to hunt someone down for a drunken kiss at midnight. Except you.

You were far too down bad for Paige to even fathom kissing someone else at the moment, especially not while going out with her and the rest of the team, who all knew about your ginormous crush on Paige.

Nonetheless, you still did your best to get ready quickly, wearing your baggiest pair of low-rise cargo pants and a very cropped white halter tank top in an attempt to cheer yourself up from the fact you wouldn't have a New Year's kiss this year, again.

But by the time you were throwing back shots at the bar like they were water, you couldn't find it in you to care about how single you were. It was common knowledge that you weren't the best at holding your liquor, as the team often made fun of your ability to get drunk off of two to three shots, which is exactly the position you found yourself in.

Until, of course, "guardian angel Paige" decided she needed to intervene in your drinkfest, walking up to your barstool and effectively cutting you off by having the bartender replace your drink with a regular shirley temple just before midnight so that she, or any of your other friends, wouldn't have to deal with you throwing up at four in the morning.

"You gotta go easy on the shots y/n/n, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning if you keep drowning your liver in alcohol."

"Funny, coming from Storrs's resident party girl, Miss Madison," you teased. There were only about twenty minutes left until bar's tv would depict the ball dropping in New York, and the disparity of your situation had begun to sink in.

Not only would you be suffering through another New Year's with no midnight kiss, but you had no relationships since last year or even a single talking stage, no potential relationship prospects for the future, and worst of all, no Paige.

"Yeah well, at least I can hold my drinks. You, on the other hand, are the most lightweight out of all of us. Besides, what happened to your little New Years tradition, the whole eating the grapes thing to find the love of your life or whatever?"

You went off on a little drunken tangent at this, complaining that it was completely ineffective, but also, the fact that it made you look stupid in front of the entire team when absolutely nothing came out of it.

"I mean it's so dumb. I don't get why my love life is so barren, like actually non-existent, it's not like I'm super unattractive or anything like that. Right? But like, I don't even have a midnight kiss this year, again," you grumbled to Paige, unaware of the way she was staring at your lips for the second time today, mesmerized by their movements.

"You are most definitely not unattractive. You're like one of the most attractive people I know. Besides, it's not like I'm kissing anyone this year," Paige reassured you, and somehow, your drunk brain simply did not process the way she had flusteredly complimented you.

"Yeah but you're Paige Bueckers," you emphasized, "you could kiss anyone in this bar if you wanted. Men and women, single and taken, would literally form a line two blocks down if you even mentioned wanting to kiss someone," you gazed up at Paige from your leaned position against the bartop, watching as the gears turned behind her eyes.

"Anyone in the bar? Like, anyone at all?" She asked you curiously, a small smirk graced her features as she peered down at you.

"Yeah probably, but there's only like two minutes left or something, so you should pick someone soon."

"Oh I already have someone picked out, I just don't know if they would kiss me back."

"Oh?" You felt your stomach drop at her statement, and you couldn't stop the jealousy from coursing through your veins if your life had depended on it. But Paige's unwavering gaze never left your face, and you could feel your cheeks flush at the way she was intently looking at you.

"Quite the staring problem tonight P?"

"Well it's pretty hard to not stare at the prettiest girl in the room," she flirted, scooting closer to you, effectively closing some of the distance between you two.

"I-, what?" You stuttered, taken back by Paige's actions.

"How many hints does I have to drop before you finally start picking up on them? I want to kiss you y/n, I want you."

The ten-second countdown had begun as Paige confessed to you, and you were left gawking at Paige's face, your heart threatening to give out from how fast it was beating.

"FIVE, FOUR,"

You yanked on Paige's belt loop, pulling her flush against your body as your eyes focused in on her lips.

"THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!""

Your right hand reached up to grab Paige's jaw at the end of the countdown, pulling her lips firmly down onto yours. The bar's loud chants barely registered to you as you lost yourself in the intoxication of Paige's lips. Your tongue glided across her lip as your mouths moved in unison, causing her to groan into you. You took it as an invitation to slip your tongue into her mouth, the kiss deepening with unrestrained passion.

Your built-up need for each other was apparent as you made out, sending shivers down your spine at the pressure of her mouth against yours. It felt as if she was the oxygen you needed to breathe, and now that you had her, there was no way you could let her go now.

***The next morning: New Year's Day***

Your eyes fluttered open with a pounding headache, yet, the utterly familiar weight of a certain pairs of hands around your waist provided a sense of comfort you knew only she could provide.

Paige's soft snores rung out throughout the room, and as you gently reached forward to her nightstand to grab your phone off charging, you realize it was still extremely early in the morning, not even eight a.m.

And yet, your phone was blowing up with notifications from all social media platforms, even your text messages had over a hundred notifications.

Confused, you click on the apps to check what all the fuss was about, quickly realizing what had happened.

The entire interaction between you and Paige at the game was recorded by the cameramen and had instantaneously made it's way all over the internet, only fueling the dating rumors about the two of you.

The comments and posts were going feral at the way Paige was the only one who could calm you down, the way she wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back, her holding your face ever so delicately, her smacking your butt as you ran back onto the court, and of course, her transparent staring at your lips the entire time you were an inch apart from her.

"What are you looking at baby," Paige sleepily mumbled into your neck, tightening her grip around your waist to pull you further into her, slinging her right leg over your waist.

You put your phone down and turned in her hold, wrapping your arms around her body as you peered down at Paige's sleepy face, admiring how beautiful she always looked.

"Your fans are going crazy about how obviously down bad you are for me P," you teased, running your foot up and down her calf as Paige pressed her face into your chest to absorb your body heat.

"Let them, just go back to sleep with me for a little bit longer."

And of course, how could you ever say no when your girlfriend was asking you so sweetly?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, and i'm so sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, i just wanted to finally get another fic out 🤗

[dontbesoweirdkira]

A/N: Had this in my drafts and i just needed to know i'm not alone.... Just thinking about possessive Dick Grayson being a sloppy and disgusting kisser. PLEASE HEAR ME ON THIS. errr this is a drabble that is kind of unfinished but you get the vibesss. There really no plot...just wanted an excuse to draft up this though so.....

Warnings: suggestive not full blown nsfw....

request: always open

masterlist

He'd have you pinned under his body the moment you entered the apartment. Your wrists were pinned together by just one of his hands and your legs were locked in between his muscular thighs. It hadn't taken much to completely subdue you like this, though you fought as hard as you could, you were helpless up against someone as skillful as he. He's ever so cocky about it at first too as his hot tongue trailed down the side of your neck until your body slightly twitched. ugh! He found a new sweet spot and it peaked his interests. You probably thought your loving partner wouldn't notice, huh? Oh, he notices everything, no matter how minor it may have been ...just like when he noticed how that person was eyeing you earlier.

"Be good and stay still for me. You don't wanna make me unhappy, right?"

You could feel his lips purse up into that cocky smile of his as he let out a chuckle. It was sly, maybe even a little twisted in the way he let it out. His mind was revisiting how good it felt to put them back in their place. Oh just how terrified they looked realizing how much they fucked up by having the audacity to even think they had a chance with you. And for Dick be on top of you like this right now while they were probably limping home? Man, that creep would flip his shit if he could see this. It gave Dick too much of an ego to be the only one in the world who'd ever have the pleasure to do whatever they wanted with you.

While he soaked in moments like this, you hated it. His arrogance left a sour taste in your mouth. Dick didn't deserve to be rewarded for this poor behavior and think this was okay. You tried once more to fight and tell him how you seriously needed to talk about boundaries but it was useless.

That didn't surprise you tho. Dick had selective listening and was too self righteous to ever admit to his wrong doings. He was like a puppy who desperately wanted to play but couldn't grasp the concept that he just destroyed the living room and you're pissed off at him. . You could punish, scream and threaten him but Dick will never fail to get what he wanted in the end.

His tongue met with the crook of your neck and slowly made circles in place.

"i'll let you curse at me all night but please just be still and let me just-"

He let out a breathy plead before he was sucked back into his selfish desires. It was pathetic how quickly he could melt into you. He hadn't even done anything yet but the taste of you was enough to send his body into overdrive. Suddenly he was the one struggling to stay still. It was far too hot in this damn apartment and his clothes were too restrictive. It was evident he didn't exactly know what to do with himself even though he's done this a million times. He couldn't stop himself from becoming overly excited each and every time he had you like this. So eager to explore your body like it was the first time all over again. His one free hand slithering under your dress and grabbing onto anything that was soft and plump.

You could feel your neck being pulled at as his lips sucked on your sweat spot. You tried to remain upset and stiff as he left his love bite but it was hard when you had someone as disgusting as Dick all over you like this.

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when his lips crashed into yours, shoving his perverted tongue as far as he could inside your mouth without any warning. The sounds of Dick's lewd moaning and smacking of each others lips filled the apartment as he sloppily made out with you.

He was so shameless in the way he handled you. He constantly craved more. More attention...more affirmations....more you.

Dick doesn't stop until he's begging you with his big, blue eyes, hoping you'd forget all about what he did to upset you. come onnn and be a good owner....he really...reallly wants to play right now.

[sat0sugu-angst]

Well, We've Got the Rest of the Night

A continuation of "I Only Need 10 Minutes" where you come home drunk an horny

wc: 2.8k

cw: super sappy bc im a sap, fingering (f. receiving), oral (m. receiving), unprotected p in v, squirting, little bit of aftercare, subby reader, lemme know if i missed something

a/n: i'm back from the dead! this has been sitting in the drafts for agesss i've just been drabbling here and there and got it to a point where i thought yall might enjoy it too

rbs/comments let me know you liked my work! don't be shy 💓

MDNI

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You wave to your girlfriends from the front door as the Uber drives off. After fumbling with the keys a little, you eventually get the door open and stumble inside.

"Babe?!" You call out from the entryway. Even though you can't see him from the door, the light from the living room gives him away.

"Yeah, kitchen." He calls back. You work your way out of your shoes as you head deeper into the apartment, nearly falling, but you catch yourself on the corner of the counter.

Katsuki is sitting at the kitchen table, paperwork laid out before him, and his glasses hanging on the end of his nose. When he sees you, the tension in his face melts, and though he's not quite smiling at you, you can't help but grin. The way he looks at you, with a softened brow and an ease only you could give him, made you feel like you could fly. You come up behind him, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling into his neck.

At first, you just hug him, making a contented noise in the back of your throat in greeting. "You have fun tonight?" His voice was level, but you could feel his heart racing under your fingertips.

You smile a little while you nod into his neck, but then you're kissing the skin there. Your fingers glide slowly up and down his chest, lips brushing over his throat as you say, "I've been thinking about your mouth all night."

"Mm," his voice rumbles under your fingers. "Barely touched you'n you can't think about anything else, huh?" His hand rests lightly on your arm, and you feel his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. He was surprisingly affectionate, you realized early in the relationship. He never shied away from your touch, however casual or intimate, and returned your affection in kind. Katsuki may not always be able to proclaim his love in words, but the way he held you left no doubts about how he felt about you.

You shake your head in answer to his question, pulling back slowly so that your fingers brushed up his arms and shoulders. You use those same shoulders, and the chair next to him, to push yourself up onto the table, too drunk to care about sitting on his paperwork.

He was smiling at you with perfect ease, his lips quirking up as you made yourself comfortable. You lean in and clumsily press a quick kiss to his lips, barely steadying yourself with your hands on his chest. When you pull away, he's still smiling, a smug tinge in the way his eyes challenged you. You can't help but feel shy under the weight of his gaze. "Always think about how you touch me," you whisper.

There was something fond about the way he regarded you, his gaze thorough as it trailed down your body. He grabbed one of your ankles, the one closest to him, and moved your leg so that you had one on either side of him. Then his arms wrapped around your hips, grabbing at your ass just enough that he could pull you toward him, and you were right at the table's edge. Your dress bunched up at your hips, and your underwear was clearly visible.

He leaned in for another kiss, hands on either knee. He holds them wider so that he can lean right against you, and then they slide up through the insides of your thighs before settling back on your hips. His lips move from your mouth toward your jaw. "And how could I think about anything other than the way you look when I touch you? Fuck, look at you. Could barely get any work done knowing you were somewhere lookin’ so good."

His mouth moves toward your ear, stopping right beneath, breath teasing the sensitive skin there. "So fucking sexy. You dance a lot tonight?" You can't help the way you gasp as he runs his tongue up your neck, slowly and deliberately, tickling you in the best way. "You taste so fucking good." You realize he's probably tasting dried sweat from dancing all night, and feel heat between your legs.

His teeth lightly graze the skin where he'd been kissing you, and you let out a small cry in pleasure. One hand is on his chest, gripping the front of his shirt without a care about stretching the material. The other goes around his neck, running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing down your body, he unzips your dress and pulls the straps over your shoulders in a heap of fabric in your lap, leaving you in only your lacy pink bra. His hands tease your breasts, running over them briefly on their way down to your legs.

He's watching you as he lifts your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, and you bite your lip in anticipation. Before you see his hands, being blocked by the fabric of your dress, you feel his fingers glide along your slit over your underwear. "Fuck," you gasp, sensitive, hands resting on his jaw, near his chin, leaning in to press your lips to his as his fingers tease you.

You're whining for more before he eventually moves the fabric aside, and he bites your lip when he feels how wet you are. "God, you're fuckin' perfect, aren't you?" He breathes against you as he runs his thumb through your slick, spreading it up to rub right where you'd been craving him. You find yourself grinding into his hand, whimpering against his lips as you kissed him harder.

He knows your body so well by now, you barely have to give him direction; with each whimper and cry, he shifts just so until he has you shaking in his arms. You feel yourself nearing your climax, and Katsuki can feel it, too. Feel how you begin to flutter around his fingers. "Fuck, baby, are you coming right now? Go ahead and come on these fingers."

But you stopped, trying to control your muscles and keep yourself from cresting over. You pull away so you can look him in the face. "No, not yet. It's your turn. I don't wanna come again unless you're inside me."

His brow quirks up in confusion. "But I'm already inside you." As if to prove his point, he thrusts into you meanly. You gasp, but he holds eye contact with you. "You really don't wanna come?" He asks, and you shake your head. He begins pulling out of you, slowly, and you can't help the noises you make. He smiles up at you. "Don't feel like it with the way you're clenching around me for more." And he presses back into you.

You cry out, muffling your voice by tucking into the crook of his neck. You can't help your blush. "Katsuki," you whine, but it's no use, his fingers resume in that painfully delicious rhythm and his thumb rubs circles against your clit. He grabs you by the hair at the nape of your neck, gentle but unyielding as he pulls you back to look up at him.

There's something possessive in his eyes as he looks at you, but there's a softness, too. "Come on, baby, come on these fingers and I'll fuck you properly."

You clench involuntarily, wanting to look away from the weight of his gaze. Sensing you becoming self-conscious, he leans up to kiss your lips, his thumb applying just a little more pressure so he could press his tongue into your mouth when you gasp. He keeps you like that for a moment, sucking lightly on your lip before pulling back again. Most of your lipstick had smeared, ending up on his neck and mouth, but he was fascinated by the light swelling from the force of your kisses. "How you can still manage to feel embarrassed with me, I'll never understand." His voice is soft, even as he adds another finger, filling you more.

But how could someone get used to the intensity in his eyes? The way he looked at you, kissed you, touched you. It was greedy and deliberate, but oh, so gentle.

You look back from his eyes to his mouth, leaning in for more kisses. He reacts in kind, following the way your hips began to move against his fingers and slip his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help whining in his mouth as his fingers worked you up again, and it was only a matter of time until you could feel your climax washing over you in waves. "Katsuki, uh—" you leaned into him, tightening your arms around him and pressing your forehead against his.

"Just like that," He says, peppering kisses all over your face, anywhere he could reach, as his fingers guided you through your orgasm. "Fuck, I wanted to take you to bed, but I'm gonna hafta fuck you on this table."

He pulled away only a little once you'd come down, not enough to pull himself out of your arms, but your legs dropped down to either side of his hips. Just enough for him to work his buckle undone.

"Wait," you said, grabbing his arms and pulling them from his pants. You got down from the table now, nearly stumbling from the drink and your fresh high, but steadied yourself with your hands on his waist. You pull him in for one slow kiss, grabbing his hands and forcing him to sit in the chair behind him before you were getting on your knees. You still held his hands in yours, and you guide his hand to your face.

"I wanna taste you now." You said, hoping the way your lips brushed against the tip of his finger enticed him. You could feel your arousal coating his fingers, and you pulled his finger into your mouth and sucked on it, tasting yourself.

Fuck, He thinks, because you were such a slutty girl when you were drunk. He was excited he could come along for the ride. "You're fucking perfect."

You sucked once more on his fingers before releasing it with a pop! and continued the work of getting his pants off.

He was already hard when you pulled down his underwear, tip damp with precum. And as well as he knew your body, you knew his. You knew exactly how he liked his cock to be sucked. With each grunt, you knew you were working him up and it was only a matter of time. He tossed his head back and you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him so that he had to look at you.

“Fuck,” He breathes, and you feel him twitch in your mouth. "I'm close."

"Mm," You hum, maintaining your pace.

"Fuck, wanna come inside you."

You have to pull off him for a moment to smile, grinning up at him sweetly. "You are inside me," you point out, echoing his words from earlier, before taking him back in your mouth.

He grins down at you, and he almost comes right there in your mouth, but Katsuki was used to getting exactly what he wanted. "Off, brat. Come sit on this cock."

Your body comes alive at the full force of his attitude, letting him pull you up. You’re trying to get your dress the rest of the way off, but with how it’s bunched, it won’t fit over your hips, and you quickly give up to work on your underwear, but Katsuki has other plans. He grabs a side with each hand and pulls, effortlessly ripping the lacy underwear in half and it falls away, leaving you bare to him.

“Katsuki!” You complain, but then his mouth is on yours, his hand in your hair, using his other hand to guide his cock as you took your place in his lap. As you lowered yourself on top of him, you pressed your lips to his for a kiss, whining into his mouth as his tip pushed into you.

You have a hard time holding yourself up in the kitchen chair, not quite enough room on either side of his legs for you to hold yourself up. You gasp as you fully settle in, how deep he presses inside you, you're certain you can feel him in your stomach. You whine, trying to use your arms to lift yourself up, but you feel his hands circle your waist, grabbing at your hips. "Don't gotta do a thing, baby." And then he thrusts. Hard.

The force of him pulling out and slamming back into you forces a breathy yell out of you. "Fuck, Katsuki!" You breathe, holding onto him for dear life.

"I know, baby," He says, as he sets a steady pace, the head of his dick bumping into that spot that has your whole body set alight. "You can take it. Just take this cock, baby." All you can do is hold onto him, trying to relax your muscles to let him in, but you feel him hit that spot over and over.

"Katsuki, please, I feel funny. Slow down or I'm gonna make a mess."

But there's no talking sense into Katsuki, not with the way you hug his dick so well. You wanna make a mess for him? He'd never turn down that kind of opportunity. "Just come, baby."

"You're not gonna wanna clean up tonight, we can't leave it til morning."

"Don't worry so much," He says, and punctuates his point by readjusting the angle of his hips so that he rocks against your g-spot again.

You only have time to let out a quiet, "fuck," before you both feel your release in his lap. You feel your muscles contract around his dick, and soon you feel the warmth of him coming inside. You're unable to stop the gentle moans falling from your mouth as he continues small thrusts as he rides out his orgasm, trying to muffle yourself in his neck.

He rubs your back gently as you both come down. For a moment, it's just the sound of you both breathing heavily against each other. You're tuckered out, exhaustion from the night hitting you as you relax in his arms.

Then he's up, holding you against him. You cry out when the shift of positions causes him to slip out of you, and you feel yourself clench around nothing. "Katsuki," you grumble, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Sorry, baby. Just wanna get you ready for bed before you pass out."

He carries you through the house and to your bathroom. You try to protest, but Katsuki is just as stubborn about cleanup as he is about how he fucks you, and after brushing your teeth and taking a shower together, he takes you back in his arms. Normally, you’d protest being carried around like a doll, but in the moment, you can't find it in you to complain, not when he smells like fresh soap and his skin is warm against yours.

When he sets you on the bed, you recline all the way back, closing your eyes. He rustles around the room, but when he goes quiet you open your eyes, finding him standing above you, now dressed, with a set of pajamas in hand. "C'mon, baby, time to put some clothes on."

You whine. "thought you liked me better without clothes," you tease, rolling over on your stomach and pretending to sleep.

You hear him scoff, and then the weight on the bed shifts as he presses in close to you. "Brat, you just wanna be babied, huh?"

You don't open your eyes, but you can't help the smile teasing your lips. “Well, I can do it myself, I just know how much you like to baby me.”

He grunts, but then you feel the bed shift, then the gentle pressure of his body laying atop yours as he holds himself up so his body rests against yours just so. “Been babyin’ you. C’mon ‘n be a good girl for me now.”

Your insides twist deliciously, and sigh dramatically. “Well I guess since you’ve been so nice,” you tease, and shift so you’re laying under him, facing up.

He snorts, pushing up to allow you to do the same. “Only for you.” You roll your eyes, but follow his lead and dress yourself. But mother hen was in a doting mood, and even after being teased, he helped you into your pajamas.

Once you were dressed, he stretches his arms over his head, yawning before crawling in beside you. He pulls you against him roughly, and you let him, tucking your head into his neck to inhale his fresh scent. “I did like that set, though.” you say, smiling against his neck.

He grunts. “Bra’s still intact.”

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight.”

He hugs you a bit tighter. “Night.”

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a/n: tysm for reading!

taglist: @asmaechan @animexholic @justanothernpcartist @inumakicanrailme 

masterlist mha masterlist

[imrllytootiredforthis]

The ‘bad’ kind of desire

pairing: soobin x reader

synopsis: you can't touch him, because he's too innocent, too sweet. but god you wish you could.

warnings: implied fem reader (can't remember if it's outright said), dom reader, sub soobin, masturbation, fingering, lowkey corruption kink, mentioned mommy kink, think that's really it

a/n: the first portion of this fic has been in my drafts since roughly july last year and was in my notes app for a few months - at least - longer than that so don't even ask me how old this really is, but at least it's out!!😭

“Am I bad person?”

Beomgyu scoffs, looking at you with eyebrows raised. He nearly laughs at the ridiculous statement coming from your mouth.

"What?"

And that makes him lose it, unable to even hold it back as he barks out a laugh, looking at you as if you've grown a second head. 

It’s a hard thing to fathom coming from you given that you’ve definitely never had any qualms about your morality when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Really? You’re asking me that?”

His best friend sits across the room, oblivious to the conversation, his headphones pulled over his ears, the game he’s playing flashing on the computer screen in front of him.

Soobin.

Sweet sweet Soobin, messy blonde hair left unbrushed, pajamas still on, not bothering to change as this was all he was planning to do all day.

Sweet Soobin who you can’t help but want to play with. 

Who you can’t help but imagine how pretty he’d look with tears in his eyes.

"I'm not fucking around Gyu-am I a bad person?"

You groan and flop over on the couch, rolling over to rest your head in Beomgyu’s lap, looking up at him with a comically-in his opinion-concerned expression. 

He gives you nothing but an exaggerated eye-roll. "Don't even start."

“But aren’t I?” You look again at the boy across the room, wondering why, why he had to be so stupidly adorable. His lips were twisted into a small pout and why it was so fucking cute.

Why? You wondered, feeling like this was all you were doing nowadays.

Beomgyu resists the urge to roll his eyes at you for the second time in a row, now at the way that you look at his best friend like some kind of lovesick fool, especially considering that all you really wanted was get into his pants. It didn’t really make sense, but hey, who was he to judge? 

“Why? Just because you want to rock his shit? Step on him and make him cry? That makes you question your morality? Out of everything that you've done?”

You gasp, slapping his chest. “He’s right there.” You hiss, not exactly denying the words.

He ignores that, shoving you off of him. He knows as well as you do that those headphones are the expensive noise cancelling ones that he'd gotten from you last Christmas. He barely hear himself yelling at his online teammates much less your hushed conversation.

You look at him as if you want to take him out on a nice picnic date and let him lay his head in your lap while playing with his hair pointing at clouds. Which Beomgyu couldn’t really see in any world, you were never really the type. 

But who knows? Maybe you were really just that eager for his dick at this point-or the more probable scenario-have him on your dick, that it broke something inside you.

“Why’re you so concerned now? Not like you had any issues with Yeonjun or Taehyun. Hell, you kept up everyone else in the dorms,” His voice goes higher as he attempts to poorly mock his roommates. “‘Y/N, more~’ ‘please, I need it-need y-‘“

“Shut the hell up.” You spit, quickly covering his mouth with your hand while your eyes flicker once more to him, still staring intently at his game.

Really, why were you so concerned now? 

Beomgyu was right. You’d had no problem doing the same to them, to Tae and Yeonjun, but they were different-he was different. 

Soobin was different than any of them. They were the product of having fun with someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. Simply satisfying-albeit unimportant-a matter of getting your rocks off with people you knew could find your clit and would let you hit it from the back.

Soobin was Soobin though. The sweet boy who looked at you with the most innocent smile. 

Who got all blushy and embarrassed when you so much as lightly and non-vulgarly flirted with him.

He’d squeak and duck his head away when you called him bunny - again, non-vulgarly, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing and it turned him on-just a little bit.

In other words, painfully obviously, it was clear.

“He’s a virgin!” You hiss, hand still clamped over his mouth despite his garbled reply. You know just as well as Beomgyu knows how bitchless his friend is. Despite the fact that offers for him were nearly endless he was too shy, too awkward to accept said advances. “-I can’t take that away from him, it needs to be special, it needs-“

Your hand, still over his mouth is touched by something warm and wet and you shriek, pulling away quickly with a look of disgusted horror. “Are you serious right now?”

“Fight me bitch, I will not hesitate.” He growls, looking triumphant with the fact that you’ve now backed up to the edge of the couch.

You roll your eyes at him, looking once again at Soobin.

Fuck, why does he have to be so adorably innocent?

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. "Just trust me, he'd be happy to be used by you. He might be a virgin, but he's nowhere near innocent."

"And what do you mean by that?" You sit against the arm of the couch, wiping Beomgyu's saliva onto the cushions.

He lets out a dry laugh, glancing back at Soobin before reaching for the previously forgotten remote control. "It means he wouldn't be as freaked as you think he would be if he found your sex toy collection."

—-

You suppose Soobin had always been special in some sort of way.

Always there over the span of time that you'd known all of them. Sitting off to the side while you hung out with the others. In his own room while you were fucking around with his other roommates. Playing his game while you were hanging out with Gyu.

He'd caught your eye more than once or twice, or three times over the years.

He was hot. You'd never discount that. Hot in the loser-y, adorable, cute, corruptible kind of way.

But then again, that kind of was your type if you thought about it.

You'd never been particularly close with him like you'd been with the others. He'd never made much effort to hang out with you but he was there when all the others were, if not one-on-one.

And he got really, really embarrassed when you tried to flirt with him like you did the others.

You didn't mind much, you'd just come under the impression that he was kind of scared of women. Which was also kind of cute.

But Beomgyu was right when he'd said that you'd never cared much about morals in the first place.

It didn't matter how close of friends or if they were a virgin or whatever other silly things that made things like that 'trivial'.

Life was too short to pretend you didn't feel things and besides. Sometimes, you really, just...didn't care.

And it wasn't personal, when you wanted someone, you would pursue it and if there was now friend groups you'd single handedly broken up, well they'd clearly made it personal themselves because you always made it very clear that there was no feelings involved.

Besides the raw, hot tension that made your skin tingle like your nerves were livewire.

Soobin was different though, special.

You felt bad for wanting him. For wanting to dirty him up.

He was something pure, something beyond and above you, perhaps and that was something you weren't willing to ruin, no matter what Beomgyu told you.

—-

"Fuck," he panted, "please,"

The room was dark, the light of his laptop being the only thing illuminating his face.

"Please,"

Sounds filled his ears through the crappy pair he'd owned for years, refusing to get wireless ones.

"Please."

"Bet you fucking like that, don't you?" The voice, only a few octaves higher than your own, still sent shivers down his spine.

Close enough.

"You're a such a dirty slut, you know?"

He whined into his sleeve, a sweater paw pressed over his mouth to keep the moans at bay. "I'm sorry, no, no please I'm sorry~" It wasn't doing a very good job muffling his voice though.

"I need it~"

The video seemed to respond to his desperate pleas. "If you need it so fucking bad then you'll be a good boy and wait for mommy's permission. You hear me?"

Or maybe he'd just watched this video so many times he'd memorized all of the male counterpart's lines. "Yes mommy," he panted, "I'll be good, I-I'll wait for your permission!"

He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't.

He couldn't, as much as he prided himself on being a good boy. This time he knew he wouldn't even make it through the seven minute and thirty-two second video.

Not with you in the next room.

He couldn't tell if you were with Yeonjun or Taehyun. It didn't really matter either way.

Because he would only focus on you.

You weren't loud, having endured enough of Beomgyu's teasing and gripes about your sexual habits. He decided he hated Beomgyu for that.

But he could hear your pants through the paper-thin walls, heavy and followed by your quiet praises. "Sweet boy," you cooed, just as the porn on his laptop continued, "Naughty boy, such a messy little-" He ripped the earbuds out mid-sentence.

He wanted to hear you.

Not some substitute for the real thing.

He could imagine if you walked it on him right now.

Laying spread out on his bed, pants not even all the way off-just messily pulled below his hips, just enough for his dick to breathe properly and for his hand to easily slide up and down with the amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"Fucking please." He moaned, quiet and needy.

You'd see him a mess, his soaked through sleeves catching the drool from his lips, teeth biting into the soft fabric to keep from crying out too loud.

You'd see him shamelessly fucking up into his fist, calling out pleas with no one there to hear him.

"C'mon baby, you can take it, take it all for me." Your voice was accompanied by the wet sounds of what, Soobin wasn't completely sure but his mind quickly conjured a few different theories. "That's it, a little more~"

Fuck him, he wished you were speaking to him.

Cockwarming him, your pussy wrapped around his dick, warm and wet and squeezing around him so good. Fluttering kisses over his face and throat as you teased along the length of him, slowly lifting up just to agonizingly sink back down onto him, clenching tight while he moaned into a kiss.

Or stroking him to another orgasm, making him cum again and again until his body was shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks. Telling him he could take more, do it one more time, for you. Because whatever pain you'd inflict would be worth it, after all it was your hands doing the damage.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this, just makes me wanna fucking wreck you. Turn you into a mindless whore on my dick."

Fuck, so that was what it was.

His mind managed to come up with one more picture through the haze.

You'd have his wrists pinned over his head with one hand, over him, keeping him down with a surprising amount of strength.

God, he could imagine the way you'd look at him. Maybe you'd be kind and gentle, sweet words and a sweet hand, fulfilling every one of his fantasies while calling him your sweet little bunny.

Like you were with whoever you were with on the other side of that wall.

But he doubted it. Or, he hoped not at least.

In his head you'd be meaner, crueler. Look at him with dark, hungry eyes and watch in a sadistic sort of glee when he cried, when he whined, when he begged and pleaded for more.

You'd thrust into him, hard and punishing, slowing down just to make sure that he wasn't crying from serious pain before you'd slam your hips against his, driving the tip of the toy dead into his prostate.

He'd beg you, plead you to slow down, to be nicer to him.

You'd tell him no. Tell him to be a good boy, voice patronizing and low, tell him only good boys get rewards.

God, that’s what he needed right now.

Needed you.

Your words, your touch, your scent, your presence even. You eyes on him, watching as he fell apart.

Not you fucking someone else in a different room.

Liquid heat flowed through his body, scorching and consuming every coherent thought.

"More."

He imagined it was you. Your hands all over him, pressing up against his throat, fondling his balls, purposely, maliciously ignoring where he needed to be touched most while you drove into him over and over and over until he was screaming in ecstasy.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly 

"You just love my cock, don't you angel? Love being fucked by me into a mindless whore?"

He silently cracked the lube open, lathering his fingers in it before letting them drift lower.

He'd done this before, but it had been awhile and the stretch was beyond overwhelming with your words ringing through the wall.

“You’re just a little angel, aren’t you, bunny?” And he pressed a finger inside, thrusting shallowly, breath picking up as you got louder.

"No, you're not an angel. You're a fucking whore, taking it like you were made for it, huh?" A second finger, following the first, scissoring himself open with a quiet gasp.

"Yeah? Fuck, is that it?" You laugh and he swears it's right in his ear, ringing through his head. "'m gonna make you scream for me baby,"

He whines in frustration, his fingers not deep enough - you not deep enough inside of him. No, he needs it deeper, harder.

More.

"Get on top of me baby, ride me," you mutter, so far but so close.

He can imagine, as he settles on his knees, that the pillow he straddles is you. That his legs are around your hips. That his fingers, positioning on the bed under him is your dick and your hands are pressing against his hips, holding him in place.

"You're mine, you hear that? Mine. My perfect little slut, taking my cock like a pretty little slut." His body trembles, eyes rolling back as he slowly sinks down onto three fingers.

"Your's." He moans in reply.

And finally, finally, he reaches his prostate, hitting it head on with his fingers.

Stars burst behind his eyelids as they slip shut, back arching into the intrusion. He could cry, he thinks distantly that he maybe is.

But it doesn't matter.

Because your hands are on his hips, controlling his movements, leading him the way you want him to ride your cock.

Up,

"Slut." You whisper.

and down,

"Whore." You lean up, teeth nipping at his neck but not hard enough to leave marks.

over,

"Baby," Breathing over the shell of his ear.

and over,

"Good boy~" Teasingly biting at his earlobe.

harder,

"Bunny," Kissing along his jaw.

faster,

"Mine." Across his cheek.

deeper.

Just barely there, ghosting across his lips-

"-Cum for me baby,"

And he does. With his mouth hung open, drool covered sleeve long forgotten over. With his eyebrows furrowed and body curled into itself, fingers pressed against his prostate.

Ropes of cum covering his chest, and his face. Some reaching his lips and his chin, staining his skin and landing in his open mouth.

"Fuck,"

And on the other side of the wall, "Good boy,"

a/n: i was thinking about making a part two but honestly if it took me a year to find the inspiration to finish this one, i'm not sure a second one will ever come out😭

[romanreignseater]

A Phone Call Away.

Roman Reigns x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; oral (female receiving)

“Now that Roman is on a hiatus from the ring, you would think that would stop the busy nature of this man… but boy were you wrong.”

A/N: Is your girl back or WHATTTT?!??! Heyyyy y’all, I missed you guys so much and I missed writing for you guys. Thanks to all of those who checked up on me (I promise those messages didn’t go unseen). I truly appreciate all the love still shown on my stories but I am back and better than ever. School has been really tough for me and I nearly dropped out, but BITCH I pulled through. I’m moving onto my junior year this fall and I couldn’t be happier. To express my happiness, I wrote this about the ONLY Tribal Chief. Mr. Roman Reigns. Hope you enjoy 😘😘😘!!

——————————————————————————

GIF: @rashyford

Roman Reigns… or as you like to call him Joe. You’re doting husband and father to your three kids. A man with a multitude of talents, charms, and good looks. You won the lottery with this man and he feels the same about you. Joe has never had a problem making anything happen for you or your kids. Yet, he can seem oblivious to all of you.. and you know why?! It’s because of that damn phone.

Yeah, Joe’s an amazing and caring man. But that phone stays strapped to his ear while attending to you or the kids.

The kids want him to open a Caprisun, he’s on that phone. You want him to take out the trash, he’s on that phone. You want him to change the baby’s diaper, you guessed it… he’s on that phone.

Although these tasks do get done, he never makes eye contact with any of you and seemingly gets annoyed anytime one of you walk up to him. So you weren’t surprised seeing your 5 year old daughter come up to you with an attitude as you were breast feeding.

“Baby girl what happened?!” You questioned as she crossed her little arms and huffed out a deep breath making the strands of her hair on her forehead rise into the air fall back down.

“Papa’s till on the phone.” My god did that little girl look like a spitting image of Joe whenever he caught an attitude. Your baby is one hundred and ten percent a daddy’s girl so to see him not give her the attention she wants made you upset.

“Listen baby okay, mommy’s gonna put your baby brother to sleep and I’ll deal with papa for you. Go upstairs and play with your big sister.” She gave you a sweet little smile and nodded her head in agreement. You watched as she ran up the stairs eager to play dolls with her big sister.

Once your baby boy wasn’t latched on anymore, you went upstairs to place him on the bed you shared with Joe. You placed a pillow fort around him to keep him safe and turned on the baby monitor. You checked on the girls quickly and made your way back downstairs.

You find Joe in the living room with the dogs surrounding him as he watched the NBA Draft. You could overhear him talking about WWE can further the Bloodline story even more before his return. Now assuming he’s talking to Hunter, you placed your hands on his shoulders and began slowing massaging before he turned around to face you as he gave a small smile.

You make your way around the couch and sat next to him. His eyes still glued to the TV as he placed one of his hands on your thigh, caressing it ever so gently. “Joe… you think you c—.”

“Shush.”

Joe lifts up the hand that was on your thigh and placed in on your mouth in order to motion him telling you to be quiet. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you couldn’t believe he just shushed you.

After you could his meals, massage his back after a match, wash his laundry, and pushed out his big headed kids.. he had the audacity to shush you.

Two can play at that game.

Knowing how much Joe can’t resist you, you can’t believe you didn’t think of this earlier to get this man off the phone. As Joe moves his finger away from your lips and places it on his own thigh now, you lean back into the headrest of the couch and spread open your legs.

Joe doesn’t take much notice until he hears you fumbling with your pants. He turns his head slightly as witnesses you bare from the waist down and your perfect pink magic spread before his eyes.

You giggled as Joe completely disregarded the draft completely and stared in awe. You lifted up slightly to take the hand that was once on your thigh and placed his hand near your dripping cunt.

On command, Joe automatically makes his thumb prominent and places it on your beating clit, rubbing in a circular motion. You drop your head back and moan as he continues to play with your pussy with his thumb. Dragging your essence up and down your slit. He soon seems to be losing memory of his call and he begins spitting out “yeah’s” and “mhmmm’s” to Hunter giving the most vague answers to his suggestions and questions.

Joe bites his lip as he looks you in your eyes, giving him the cheesiest grin knowing you’ve basically won the battle. “Yeah, I totally understand.” He says into his phone once more before he puts it on speaker and then mute and places his phone on your stomach.

The heat of his phone makes you hiss slightly and then you begin to hiss more as his tongue comes into contact with your drooling heat. He begins eating you out like a true champ. He nuzzled his face deep into your wet heat and flicked your clit with his thumb. Your back began arching off the sofa as you were beginning to reach your climax.

But a loud voice parades inside your mind as you try to enjoy yourself. “Roman, Joe. You there?!” Joe looked up at you and it was almost like his eyes were telling you something. You watched as his hand that was holding your thigh open, comes near his phone as he presses the mute button once more.

You quickly shut your mouth as Joe removes his mouth from you but keeps the assault on your little clit going. “Yeah I’m here. Umm… what’s gonna happen with my wiseman??!” You watched intently as he pressed the mute button again and goes back to town. He takes his tongue deep into you as Hunter is on the phone blabbing about what’s gonna happen with Paul.

Just as he was wrapping his summary of the wiseman’s future, your legs began to shake and sputter as you finally reached your climax. Your legs clamp around his head and breathing heavy. You let out one deep breath as Joe removes your thighs from around his head and looks as you with a devilish smile as you essence coated his entire beard.

He picks his phone up again and removes it from mute. “Yeah, that was a great convo. We got a lot done, but listen boss man duty calls I gotta get into daddy mode. Mama’s had enough for today.”

You shook her head in agreement as Hunter expressed his understanding. They bid each other farewell and Joe threw his phone behind him. You laid with her legs still spread open, pussy on display for his viewing pleasure staring a hole into his eyes. He lifted his brow at you as if to question what the next move was.

“Ummm if you want more of this sir, you’re gonna have to get myself off your face and go play with your baby girl cause you really upset her today baby.” He hung his head low as he understood the damage he’s caused by focusing on his phone too much.

“Alright I will baby.” He playfully closed your legs for you and you giggled as he placed a blanket over you. He stood up and as he went to walk away, he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“Just know when you want that part two, I’m a phone call away.” He reached for his phone and waved in your face as he chuckled on his way up the stairs.

That man crazy as hell..

——————————————————————————

THE END.

Not gonna yieeee… I’m happy to be writing again 😂. Shout out to @thesamoanqueen @mzv11 & @msbigredmachine your stories really motivated me to get back into writing and it helped me realize writing isn’t dead 🫶🏾🫶🏾!! (Jey fic next, cause that’s my baby, YEETTTT!!!)

Hope you all enjoyed 💕💕💕!!

MY TAG SQUAD: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @nayys-world @mzv11 @babybatlover @vogueyonce @harlem11680 @seeingstarks @thewarlordsworld @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @christinabae @pitlissa22 @thealliasylum @fame-ass-ers @iluvthebloodline @jeyusos-girl @ah-fin3sse @solosikoasgf @msbigredmachine @rollinsland @angelicflower2020 @theogsamoanqueen @saintsvenust

*If you want to be added to my tag list, don’t be afraid to let me know!!

[pedge-page]

HIIIII UR LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAV WRITERS IN TUMBLR and ily so much 💝 i appreciate all your hard work that you poured into your writings, making them perfect to read. i've been obsessed with himbo!joel lately and i have an idea. idk if you've done this before but how ab himbo!joel and piss kink crossover? ignore this if you're feeling that you're not comfortable this ask! 🩷

Nonny, I know you submitted this back in May but this has been top of my mind for so long. When i first read this, I was ELATED because Himbo!Joel's original first draft was actually a piss kink! I went a different direction but I'm sooooo glad you've asked this because i didn't have to throw away the og after all :) Thank you for your patience and please enjoy!

Different Kind of Lovin'

Himbo!Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings: Piss kink, Mommy kink, himbo!Joel, unprotected sex, peeing inside vagina, sub!Joel, dom-ish!Reader, public sex, slight somnophilia, brief piss drinking

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel howls as you clench around him, taking a moment to pant like a dog in heat.

He buries his nose into your neck, where it’s safe, where he belongs, as you stroke along his sweated back. “You okay, baby boy?” You coo softly into his ear.

You feel his head nod. “Mkay...” He shivers before kissing your cheek and resuming his thrusts. In, out, up, down, again and again, in ample rhythm. He’s practicing a beat today. There’s a time for wild fucking with the intent to cum his brains out, and there’s a time for slow, sensual, methodical sex, which is something he’s working so well on today.

“You’re doing so good for Mommy today."

He purrs. His hips stutter from excitement, and you feel his cock swell impossibly larger in your swollen, squelching pussy. Joel pauses briefly, collecting himself before returning to his steady pace.

“Mommy,” he hums dangerously. You turn your head to look at him, but he’s still buried into your neck. Almost as if embarrassed by something.

“What is it, baby? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

He grunts again, shaking his head. His pace falters again. Humping in quick, desperate succession. He’s straining hard, fists clenched under your upper back. 

You gather his face, and he nearly loses it right there. Your eyes on him, so soft and sincere, and there for him. Always there. Whenever he needs you and whenever he wants you. Even when he doesn’t know it yet. You’re there, you’re here, you’re his.

“Tell me,” you whisper lovingly while stroking along the stubble of his beard.

He gathers his courage. “Mommy. I—um. I need…I need to pee.”

You can laugh. but a small grin cracks at your lips. “Is that it?”

He nods quickly. You realize all the clenching, and the poor rhythm was most likely due to him trying to hold it, as opposed to trying to be steady. 

Your smooth calves slink along his taught ass before wrapping around, securing him to you.

“That’s okay, angel,” you nod encouragingly, using your ankles to start rocking his hips back and forth, driving his cock in and out of you again. He moans, pleasure consuming his intuition. “You can do it inside.”

“I-Inside?”

His length pulses excitedly, but he’s trying so hard to act like that didn’t just give him a thrill. As if he can pretend he didn’t think of it before.

“Mhm. You can squirt all your juices into Mommy’s pussy. I want everything you give me. Give me your juices, Joel. Mommy wants to feel your warmth filling her. No matter what it is. Mommy will take it.”

“But—ugh fuck Mommy please don’t squeeze like that—I don’t… wanna pee myself—“

“You’re not gonna pee yourself,” you say sternly. Your hands make their way to his ass, pulling him into you at your own desired pace. He can’t be left to be in control of his desires right now, so you need to take charge, to show him it’s really okay.

To show him what he’s missing out on.

“You’re gonna squirt your piss inside me. It’s gonna be okay. It’ll feel really good honey, I promise.”

“Oh my god,” he cries. His brows are drawn tightly together as he takes your lead. His throbbing member is practically forcing out your sweet pussy juices, making way to fill it with his own brew. 

You can barely see straight as he positions his knees to force himself deeper into your womb. Arching your back, Joel holds on tightly, arms tucked below your pits and hands snaked back over your shoulders as his whining increases. The room fills with your hot breaths, Joel’s throaty rasps, and the fastened slap of wet skin.

His voice catches in his throat when it happens. The tingling sensation feels free, and he releases inside of you. He can’t believe it. Can’t comprehend the feeling inside him, inside you right now. Dumping, pouring, squirting and stuffing you to the brim with his massive load of hot urine just shooting out of his cock and safely into your pussy. He never knew it could be this good. you were right, you always are of course, but to think it would amount to the level of pleasure, yet on a different end, as cumming inside you.

“That’s it—that’s my boy—ohhhh honey you had to go a lot didn’t you?” You tease, eyes rolling as you start to shake and cum around his cock. “Oh fuck! Oh baby that’s it. Keep squirting inside me. Fuck you always have big load. Always ready to fill Mommy with your sweet hot juices. Fuck Joel, keep going!”

You quiver as Joel’s mouth still is agape, watching you, having an out of bodied experience himself. He feels another stream, stronger than the last ready to make its way from his bladder to your cunt, and here it comes-- fuck yes!

Hot and wet, his urine plunges out of you in spurts, soaking your ass and the bed below. He pushes in further, feeling his balls and pelvis get soaked with his new juices that his Mommy loves so much. Why had he never peed inside you before? Given the blissed out look on your braindead face, he knows you liked it, you liked it so much. He starts thrusting again, eager to give you more of his warm juices from his body.

The squelch is phenomenal. So hot, hot, hot, sticky and wet all over. Fueled now the he still hasn’t cum. Where his piss ends and your slick begins, he can’t tell, and he loves it. Loves that he’s put something in you that couldn’t be contained, flows out like the love he fills you with each day.

You laugh off his hungry fucking again, no longer caring to practice rhythm. He can rut, hump, piss and cum to his hearts content. So long as he’s buried balls deep inside you, anything he wants to pour into you, he’s eager to put it in.

Eventually, he can’t pee anywhere comfortably unless it’s inside you. Which makes regular day to day routines… slightly more complicated than before. 

Like at night, when you’re fast asleep with his cum still sticky and leaking out of you. He fists his cock and slides right in, careful not to stir you. He holds his breath and starts to go, wetting the you and the bed. He passes out in a puddle of his own piss before you can really discipline him. 

He finds you without fail, whether you’re in the same house or 5 miles apart. When he needs to go, he gets hard too, and he knows only Mommy can handle that for him.

Pushes you against a wall and grinds his length against your ass. “Mommy,” he hums with a grin. “I need to go, please.”

It’s not really an ask, as he strips your pants down and pushes aside your panties, rolling his bulbous tip against your slit. He doesn’t wait for a reply. Poor thing, probably holding it in all day and doing a little funny dance as he rushed his way to find you and give you his juices.

“Have a big potty for ya today. Almost burst my juice everywhere. Got to ya just in time…”

He pushes in one go, his voice stuttering with a lazy grin. Not even a thrust later and he moaning in content as he pisses inside your hot pussy with even hotter urine. It rapidly spills and trickles down your thighs. Luckily from experience, you had known to discard and kick your pants away when he does this, so the yellow puddle of his liquid forms on the pavement below. 

He grips your hips with both meaty paws, grinding his front into your ass as closely as possible. It feels best when his tip can brush along your cervix before spurting out the last of his potty. 

“Joel Miller, you have made a mess of me,” you say, shaking your head with a slight smirk.

Rather than feeling any remorse, he returns your grin with an even bigger one of his own, slowly sliding down to his knees while maintaining eyes with you.

He swallows just as you lean back and spread your legs, fingers parting your folds to reveal the shiny translucent drips of his piss still wetting your cunt and down your inner legs. 

“Clean me spotless, and I’ll let you piss in Mommy’s ass, and I’ll plug it all day so I keep your love warm for the next time you have to go.” 

You never need to ask twice. His tongue is already lapping at your knees, between your thighs and up to your succulent, swollen, precious, pretty pussy. Sucking the little dribble on your clit. Straightening his tongue to dive deep into your entrance before flattening it, stretching your wall and making a slide so his pee and your juices can slide right into his mouth.

He smiles like a stupid, drunk, fantastic boy.

He can’t wait to put his piss in your ass next. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @peekyourinterest

[todorkihoe]

Red Hot

Now, he doesn’t know what he was expecting the item to be when he decided to grab it. Perhaps he thought it was a sock or maybe a handkerchief. But what he was not expecting was a skimpy pair of lacy, fiery red panties.

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: smut 18+

content warnings: panty stealing/sniffing/licking, solo (m) masturbation, unprotected sex, some embarrassment/getting caught, oral & fingering (f receiving)

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you accidentally leave behind a pair of your underwear in the laundry room and your hot neighbor steals them

a/n:  literally like the first thing i’ve written in 3 years lmfaooo but fun fact about this fic is that it was originally a todoroki fic that had been rotting in my drafts and i found it and thought hmmm this could be repurposed. also the actual HELL i had to go through getting tumblr to work before i could post this could not be understated

You were a mess today. Truly a mess.

Now that’s not to say that you aren’t a mess every day, but today is particularly bad. You’re just thankful that you’ve managed to avoid everyone in your apartment building as you trudge down to the basement to get to the communal washers and dryers.

If anyone were to see you they’d be horrified, to say the very least. It had been too long since you’d done a load of laundry, leaving you to wear a too-small pair of shorts, an old stained t-shirt, and mismatched socks. Not to mention the haggard expression on your face from many sleepless nights of studying and working. 

So in short- you were a mess.

You once again luck out as you walk into the laundry room, delighted to see that no one is around to hear you grumble about your chores. You hum quietly as you pull the detergent and scent-boosting beads from your laundry basket and pour a bit of each in, taking a whiff of the fresh scent. Doing laundry was horrible but nice-smelling and clean clothes were not. You continue the task of transferring your dirty clothes in the washing machine until you’re so rudely interrupted by someone else entering the room.

But not just anyone of course. No, because Gojo Satoru is definitely not just anyone. 

He’s the hot neighbor you’ve had a crush on since the day he moved into the apartment across from yours, and you’re not the only one. Nearly everyone in this building has a crush on him and for good reason. He’s tall and strikingly handsome with a strong physique and voice that sends a pleasurable chill down your spine.

You’re hardly able to contain a flustered squeak when he acknowledges you with a smile before setting up at the washer next to yours. You bite your lip to keep from saying anything stupid because his presence is intoxicating and if you lean a just little to the right you’d be able to smell his cologne and-

���Y/N?”

At the sound of your name leaving his oh-so-pink lips, you blink stupidly multiple times to see him looking at you with a slight, knowing grin. Cocky bastard.

“Huh?”

“Oh, I just asked if I could borrow some of your detergent. I accidentally forgot mine up in my apartment,” he reiterates as that stupid grin remains plastered across his face. You rush out a “yes” and hand the detergent to him, unable to meet his piercing eyes after zoning out in a fantasy about him when he was standing right next to you.

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment, knowing that Gojo isn’t stupid. He’s smart enough to know when people are checking him out. The longer you stand next to him, the more you start to overthink the short interaction and the more you want to leave. So you do. You rapidly throw the rest of your clothes in and close the washer before hurrying away without saying goodbye. 

Gojo watches you practically run out of the room in surprise. He knew he flustered you, but did he do something wrong? He ponders the situation while putting his clothes in the washer and looking over at the laundry basket you left before he spots a singular red item in the white basket. Now Gojo knows that he shouldn’t look; it’s not his business if you forgot something so he definitely shouldn’t look. And it’s certainly not the gentlemanly thing to do, but it’s you and Gojo wouldn’t call himself a particular gentleman.

Now, he doesn’t know what he was expecting the item to be when he decided to grab it. Perhaps he thought it was a sock or maybe a handkerchief. But what he was not expecting was a skimpy pair of lacy, fiery red panties. 

His eyes widen in pleased surprise at this unknown side of you and he can’t help the flush of blood to his face and other places. He curls his fist around the fabric as images of you wearing nothing but the underwear flood his mind and he fails to fight the tightening of his pants.

Gojo snaps out of it quickly, realizing he’s standing in the very communal laundry room holding your panties. What should he do with them? There was no way he was going to chase after you while holding your underwear, he couldn’t open your washer and put them in because the cycle had already started, and he couldn’t put them back because when you came back down you’d certainly know that he’d seen them. What was he to do?

Gojo made his decision and turned back to his washer to put the rest of his clothes in before leaving. 

With your panties in his pocket. 

He quickly makes his way to the elevator, thankful that he hadn't run into anyone while sporting an impressively large bulge in his jeans. He steps into the elevator and presses the number of your shared floor before backing up against the wall. Riddled with only mild guilt and overwhelming lust, Gojo lets out a long sigh before the image of you under him once again appears and he slides his hand into his pocket, rubbing the thin lace of your panties between two slender fingers.

When the elevator doors finally open, he quickly walks out and pauses in front of the door to your apartment for a moment, picturing what you might be doing. Picturing what you might look like in… He then walks over to his own door and unlocks it with shaky hands before stepping in and locking it immediately.

His fingers drift into his pocket and he pulls the panties out to look down at them. God this felt so dirty, stealing his neighbor's underwear and getting hard with them in his hand. Gojo knows he should probably feel guilty but at this point he doesn’t care, bringing his hand with the panties down to his clothed crotch and grinding against it with an airy groan. His head falls back against the door with a quiet thud as he continues to palm himself through his jeans.

Gojo imagines you beneath him, wearing only the red panties, calling his name, and begging in your sweet voice for him to touch you. He lets out another quiet groan at the thought of you and makes his way to sit down on his bed. He pulls his shirt over his head, imagining it was your hands stripping him of his clothes. Without thinking, he brings the panties up to his nose and inhales your scent deeply while using his other hand to rub the bulge in his pants.

As his tongue pokes through his lips in an attempt to taste your juices on the fabric, his hand desperately fumbles with his zipper to free his aching cock. He lets out a low moan as he wraps his hand around his long shaft, slowly rubbing his thumb over the leaking tip and gasping out your name.

“Fuck Y/N-” he moans out as he starts to slowly slide his hand up and down his length. His whole body felt hot at the idea of you. As his desperation builds, so does the pace of his hand, becoming tighter and more erratic as an uncontrollable slew of words falls from his mouth.

“Dirty girl…probably left these for me to find,” he groans through clenched teeth. “Wanted me to picture-f-fuck-picture what you’d look like with your legs spread for me u-ugh,”. He brings your panties down from his face to wrap the fabric around his cock, furiously bucking his hips. Seconds later, with a strangled groan, he spills into his fist and all over your delicate lace. 

Satoru looks down at his mess and sighs heavily, laying back in bed and filled with a lust-addled determination to get you in here with him.

Later the next day, when Satoru takes the elevator down to the lobby to retrieve some mail, he spots you unlocking your mailbox and strides over. Upon feeling someone enter your space, you look up and are shocked at the sight of Gojo staring straight at you.

“Gonna run off again, neighbor?”

You sputter out some pathetic non-answer and he only chuckles at you while unlocking his own mailbox, right next to yours. In the past few months that you and Gojo have been neighbors, you’ve rarely spoken or gotten to know one another. As if reading your mind, he asks, “Would you like to come up for coffee? If you’re not busy, that is,” as he grabs a few letters from his mailbox.

You can feel the heat rise to your face and can’t help the look of surprise. You mean to say “yes” or nod but without thinking, simply ask “Why?” giving Gojo a look of surprise as well. You swear you see a tinge of pink on his cheeks as he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Dunno…thought you might like to share a drink. If not, that’s fine-”

“No! Sorry no, I mean I’d really like that, yeah,” you respond a bit sheepishly. He smiles at you and extends his arm, gesturing to the elevator, letting you enter first. He follows in as you press the button to your shared floor, shifting from foot to foot a little awkwardly in the silence. Neither of you says anything as the elevator reaches your floor and you continue in silence, following Gojo to his apartment right across from yours.

Sometime later, after the both of you spent a copious amount of time trying to figure out Gojo’s fancy coffee machine that he had apparently never used, you’re both sat in his living room engaging in light conversation. He seemed to be very interested in your life, asking about your work, education, and hobbies rather than talking about himself. The attention focused solely on you was intense but welcomed, and you were glad that the awkwardness from earlier was gone.

Upon laughing at some stupid joke Gojo made, you spill a bit of your drink on your hands and shirt. “Oh, jeez, would you mind if I used your bathroom real quick?

“Oh yeah, of course. I’m assuming our layouts are the same so you know where it is?”

“Down that hall, right?” you ask, and when he nods in confirmation, you walk in that direction. It appears that your respective apartments were built the same way so you turn right at the end of the hall, thinking it’ll be the bathroom. Wrong. You’ve now accidentally entered Gojo’s bedroom, but before you turn on your heel to go left instead, something that’s bright red in color catches your eye from his nightstand.

You can’t tell what it is from here, but it does look vaguely familiar and you know you should absolutely not snoop in his apartment. You’re a guest and sneaking into his bedroom is just about the most invasive thing you could do but you can’t help yourself from tip-toeing in. When you reach his nightstand, your subconscious suspicion is confirmed: there is, in fact, a very scandalous pair of your underwear sitting on your neighbor's nightstand sporting very curious stains.

You stand in shock for a moment, deliberating your next move. Pretending you never saw this and turning around to go to the bathroom was an option. But the knowledge of this scene would certainly eat away at you in more ways than one. The other option is to confront him about this, and without even really weighing the pros and cons, you hook one finger around your underwear to lift them and walk back into the living room.

“Did you find the bathroo–Oh..” Gojo’s voice trails off weakly when he sees the item in your hand. His mouth gapes open and closed like a fish and a deep crimson begins to paint his cheeks as he struggles to find anything to say. You stand silently and expectantly, warmth bleeding into your face in a similar fashion.

A few more tense moments pass before he attempts to clear his throat and explain. “When we were in the laundry room the other day, you…you left them and I..took them and then-” his voice begins to crack in embarrassment at the end of the statement, the reality of what exactly he’d done with your panties hanging in the air.

His gaze is almost pained as it drops back to the floor, fearing your disgust. But, you don’t feel disgusted, rather you feel quite flattered, and it emboldens you to take a step forward, voice dropping to a lull.

“Y’know..these are my favorite pair and you ruined them.” Gojo flinches and opens his mouth but you cut him off with a seductive whisper, “I think you should make it up to me.”

He lifts his head quickly in surprise, assessing your demeanor closely before a dangerous glint appears in his eyes. “Yeah?” he asks throatily. You answer with a nod, not trusting your voice to be strong enough. He tilts his head, considering you for a moment, and before you can react, he’s stepping forward and his lips are crashing against yours. 

You respond with a fervent kiss back, arms wrapping around his neck as he walks you back against the nearest wall. He groans against your lips while his hands busy themselves with touching you anywhere possible, gripping your hips and sliding up your shirt to paw at your chest. You squeal as he lifts you up to carry you to his bed, lips never parting from yours while your panties lay forgotten on the floor.

He sits back down on the mattress, holding you in his lap as you grind your hips down on his prominent bulge. He lifts your shirt over your head and begins attacking your neck and chest with kisses. “Gojo,” you sigh breathily, threading your fingers through his hair. “Satoru,” he responds, whining when you echo him and remove his shirt to satiate your own desires.

All flushed and pretty he pulls back to ask, “Can I touch you, sweetheart?” and lays you back in the covers as soon as you nod rapidly. 

Your pants are gone in seconds and Satoru pauses to admire the sight of you finally in his bed. You, however, grow impatient quickly and yank his hair, pulling a needy whine from his kiss-swollen lips. “Thought you were gonna make it up to me?” you pout, causing a wolfish grin to spread across his face. 

“Oh, I’ll do more than that.” And then he’s leaning down and pulling your panties to the side with his teeth before diving in. With the way he moans against you, you might think he was enjoying this more than you, tongue laving over every inch of you, flicking your clit, and pushing into you.

“Satoruuu..” you whine, encouraging him to bring his fingers up to rub against your dripping entrance. 

“Fuck say my name again, baby.” You comply with another long moan when he rewards you with his fingers, tongue never moving from your clit.

“I’ll admit…” he begins idly, “You’re so much fucking prettier than I imagined. Fucking gorgeous.” Your cheeks burn and your hands fist the sheets tightly as his palm grinds against your clit, long fingers pumping into you and stretching you out. Satoru has to hold your hips down as you cum with a high-pitched squeal, his own hips pathetically humping the mattress below him.

While you lay panting and recovering from your high, Satoru fumbles to push his pants and boxers down, exposing his aching cock to you. Long, thick, and painfully hard. You can practically see his cock pulsing for you as a little bead of pre-cum leaks down the side of him. Entranced, you reach forward and brush your fingers over the leaking tip, causing him to hiss through his teeth. Looking up at him with wide, lustful eyes, you grin, “Will you fuck me now, Satoru?”

His head drops back and his cock twitches at your words before he’s climbing over you and spreading your legs wide to make room. “You don’t even have to ask, baby..”

You moan as he slides his cock up and down your cunt, coating himself with your slick. Satoru flicks the hair out of his eyes to get the best view as he just barely pushes the tip in, watching how your lips part for him.

You both dig your nails into each other when he finally slides all the way in like that’s where he was meant to be all along. Satoru wastes no time in setting a fast, hard pace that hits the most sensitive parts of you every time he sinks back in. The noises shared between you, the moans, the whines, the wet squelch of your pussy every time you suck him back in..it all makes you feel like you're on fire

“Wanted to-f-fuck-wanted to do this for sooo long, sweetheart,” he moans against your ear, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. Each sloppy drive of his cock into you pushes you up the bed until he wraps his arms around you and drags you down onto him like his own personal toy.

You can’t even think straight with everything he’s doing, it’s all so much. The weight of him on top of you, the force of his hips pressing into yours, the sound of his voice in your ear-all of it just drives you closer and closer to the edge, clenching around his length. You dig your nails deeper into the corded muscle of his back and guturally moan, “T-Toru..g’na cum! Need to-”

“Y-yeah let me feel it,” he croons in your ear and reaches down between you to rub frantic circles over your clit, voice pitching to a near whine when he feels you finally gush around his cock. You shake violently against him, hips bucking up uncontrollably. Your orgasm triggers his and he lets out a drawn-out moan, hips slowing as his cum floods into you and mixes with your own juices.

“That’s it-fuck..take it all, pretty girl,” he moans, continuing to grind his cum deeper into you before collapsing down on top of you. He presses breathless kisses to your neck and shoulder while you run your hands through his damp hair, the both of you sighing contentedly.

Satoru pulls back just enough to grin stupidly at you, “Did I make it up to you?” You only groan and playfully push his face away with a laugh.

Later, when you’re relaxed in bed and tucked into the crook of Satoru’s neck, you giggle.

“Oh, Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“You owe me a new pair of panties.”

a/n: pretty please alert me to any spelling/grammar errors and I luv him :3

[sophieinwonderland]

Catarina Claes and Low Self-Esteem - A Ramble

Here's a draft I was saving for after I wrote my Plurality of Catarina Claes post, but I haven't done that and don't feel like it, so I'm posting this anyway...

I was thinking about Catarina while scrolling through the Crunchyroll comments describing her as denser than a black hole, which while funny the first time, and the second, starts to wear on you by the hundredth.

I mean, I get a community having running jokes, but I'm talking literally every episode has at least one person saying this, and sometimes multiple.

The thing about these comments is... they're not wrong. Catarina can be really dense and oblivious. It's one of her defining character traits. Everyone knows it...

But... I think there's more to it than this where it concerns her love interests.

Catarina, in my opinion, doesn't recognize that people love her because she sees herself as unlovable.

Putting Ourselves In Catarina's Shoes

Imagine for a moment that you've always been the strange girl at school.

You have one close friend. You've never had a romantic partner. You're a disappointment to your parents who see you as just some lazy girl. And then, at 17, you die completely unaccomplished. A failure.

You get a new life though. You're reborn with no memory of who you used to be.

And the person you are now... is a brat. A spoiled rich brat who hurts everyone around her. Then you get hit on the head and have memories from your last life flood your brain.

Now there are two very different lives in your head, but there are common themes in them.

In both, you have a mom who puts you down at every turn. In both, you haven't really known love before.

And on top of all of that, you realize that your new life is as a villain. A rival who is supposed to compete with the heroine for a man who doesn't love her. Someone who only agreed to be engaged with her to avoid other offers.

This is your destiny.

And it confirms everything terrible your parents told you about who you are across two lives.

By the time she enrolls in the magic academy, she's had over 30 years to internalize her sense of worthlessness, and nearly a decade to internalize her destiny as a villain who exists only to be a rival in someone else's story.

Catarina Isn't Just Oblivious. She's In Denial.

She's built an entire self-concept around being the unlovable villainess that she literally cannot fathom anyone having genuine romantic feelings for her.

Even while she loves her friends (platonically), she's still convinced through the series that they're going to kill or exile her in the end.

No matter how many times people drop hints or even outright tell Catarina they love her, she can't accept that.

All in all, I feel dismissing Catarina's obliviousness as her just being dense (which again, she is) does a disservice to the character.

[stromblessed]

Mizu's spectacles, and the levels of her disguise

In drafting some more Blue Eye Samurai meta posts, I find myself writing out the comparisons between what Mizu can and cannot hide about herself, and how that affects how she moves through the world.

Like, I get the jokes about Mizu's glasses, if only color contacts had existed back then, etc. etc., and I think (hope) that most viewers don't take the glasses jokes seriously, as in "I don't care about the suspension of disbelief because BES is a cartoon." But I wanted to write these thoughts out anyway without burying them in a text post about something else.

I think the points I'm going to lay out here are viewed very differently by different people, so please feel free to add to this post, reply, or put your thoughts in the tags!

Not only do Mizu's glasses not actually help her that much, there's surely more to Mizu's mixed race appearance than just the color of her eyes.

In my view, this was pointed out in episode 1:

I'm willing to bet most of us were expecting young Taigen to say "blue eyes," not "ROUND eyes."

Obviously this is still about Mizu's eyes, but not even spectacles can hide their shape.

I don't think the show is obligated to point out everything about Mizu's face that isn't quite as Japanese as the people around her expect. Though the creators have said that they specifically designed Mizu - and her clothes - to read both as "white" and as "Japanese," as well as both male and female. I think there's more about Mizu's features that read as "white" than just her eyes.

This is where my own headcanons start entering the picture, but it's my impression that people can just tell that Mizu looks different, whether or not they can put a finger on exactly how.

There's the little girl who looks at Mizu and then hides on the way into Kyoto:

When there's more to your face you'd like to cover up than just your eyes, big hats are a big help!

By the way, most of these examples have to come from the first half of the season, since by the second half, either Mizu is too preoccupied with fighting henchmen, or everyone Mizu is facing knows who she is already, and she therefore has no reason to hide her mixed race identity.

It's worth mentioning that the mere fact that Mizu has to hide multiple aspects of her identity - her mixed race and her sex - results in her having to choose clothes that really, really cover her up, which doesn't win her any favors either:

(Zatoichi reference, anyone?)

If it were as easy as, for example, tying her glasses to her head and wa-lah, nobody would ever know she was half-white - then (1) Mizu would've just done that long ago, and (2) Mizu wouldn't be so on guard and on tenterhooks 100% of the time the way she's depicted in the show, even when her glasses are on.

Her spectacles sure don't help her in the brothel, which is full of observant women who are trying to seduce her, meaning they get good long looks at her:

Mizu never takes her glasses off, but they still send a woman to her who has light eyes, thinking that must be what will interest a blue-eyed man:

No wonder Mizu gets mad after this, lol

So Mizu never takes her spectacles off in the brothel, it's dimly lit inside, and the women can still tell that she has blue eyes. I'm getting the sense that Mizu putting on her spectacles isn't a guarantee that people suddenly can't tell that she looks different.

And yet no one spots that she's female.

Mizu can hide her breasts, can wear her hair in the right style, can hide what's between her legs, can walk and talk and behave like a man - and she's been doing it for almost her entire life, to the point that not only is she very good at it, but the threat of being found out as female is deadly, but isn't presented in the show as omnipresent.

Let me explain.

She threatens Ringo for nearly saying the word "girl" out loud, because while she's constantly ostracized for being mixed race, being a woman traveling without a chaperone, carrying a sword, and disguised as a man will get her killed or flogged or arrested or some combination of these things.

But in addition, it's been drilled into her since she was a child that if she is discovered as female, the combination of her being mixed race and female will identify her as someone extremely specific, someone known to some bad people, and she will be killed:

I think of it as Mizu thinking to herself, "Being found out as mixed race means I'm treated badly. Being found out as mixed race and a woman means I'm dead."

Mizu's hair is cut as a child. But she isn't made to wear a big hat, or cover her eyes somehow, or anything like that. Because hiding her sex is a more successful endeavor than hiding her race.

Ringo finds out she's female by accident, but once Mizu accepts the fact that he won't rat her out, she relaxes pretty early on in the season. Because the threat of being found out as female is mitigated pretty much 99.9%, since Mizu has gotten so good at being a man. And also, because most of the time, people see what they want to see. Even if Mizu's face makes her stand out as "not 100% Japanese," no one in the world of BES looks at Mizu's clothes, her bearing, her sword, hears her voice, and will ever in a million years conclude that she is a woman, because expectations around gender roles in the Edo period were so rigid and so widely enforced.

One detail that proved this to me is after the Four Fangs fight:

Ringo takes off Mizu's clothes so he can stitch her up, then leaves her clothes off even after he's done. He doesn't even throw her cloak over her as a blanket or anything. There's a little a straw (pallet?) as a divider there on the left, but anyone could just peek around it and see Mizu and her chest bindings. (I think it's mostly there as a windbreaker.)

And Taigen is right there, but he doesn't give a shit:

Opinions probably vary hugely on this, but my impression is that because the show doesn't make any kind of deal about Taigen being in the room with Mizu here, my guess is that Mizu isn't in any danger of Taigen thinking she's female. Even when I watched the show for the first time, I assumed that Taigen had seen Mizu out of her clothes here, and that he thought nothing of it.

Eat your heart out, Li Shang (Mulan 1998). I actually do think that this scene is a direct and purposeful side-eye to that movie, lol

There's obviously some nuance to how "severe" being mixed race is compared to how "severe" being a woman is for Mizu:

After all, Swordfather can't bear to listen to Mizu confess to being a woman.

So a Japanese man can go wherever he wants, whenever he wants in BES. A Japanese woman has limited options: marriage, religion, or a brothel. A mixed-race man is an eyesore in this story. A mixed-race woman is a death sentence.

May as well eliminate the female aspect, and do what you can about the mixed-race aspect. Because that's just realistic.

Meaning Mizu can avoid the strictures Edo society places on women. But she can't avoid the repercussions that come with being mixed race. And I truly don't think that it's just because "there's no brown contacts yet."

[normal-person-i-promise]

public transport

arataka reigen x fem!reader

half of it is edited, at least. this has been sitting in my drafts, half done, since march. im sick of working on it, so you get this. sorgy

The sudden jerk of the train starting takes you by surprise, and you nearly fall down — had it not been for the fact that someone gripped your upper arms tightly before your face could connect with the cold, hard floor.

You look up quickly, your face heating when you realize who it is.

★ ★ ★

The familiar "whoosh" of the bus's old doors opening greets you warmly as you step inside, unsurprised to find almost all seats — save for one — vacant. Late nights are always lonely — it's always dark, empty, quiet — but today, there's another person on the bus with you.

He... Looks like the guy you saw on TV some time ago, though in a more... Tired state. Messy blonde hair, unbuttoned grey suit, loose pink tie — he's sitting in the back-most seat, his eyes, heavy with fatigue, transfixed on the window.

He didn't noice you come in.

You stand at the door for a little while, adjusting the bag on your shoulders before coming to a realization that sours your expression. That's your usual seat. He took it.

You scowl, making your way to the window seat a few meters away from him and sitting down with as much annoyance that you can muster.

You can hear the sound of the bus's wheels squeak every time they'd go over a bump, shaking the whole vehicle; smell the sour scent of sweat stained clothes from a long day of work; practically taste the citrus cleaning spray the cleaners use too much on the cloth seat covers.

The bus's doors creak closed. The vehicle abruptly jerks forward, a start, before its motion becomes steady. You settle into your seat, adjusting yourself until you're comfortable, feeling the worn fabric beneath your fingertips as you steady yourself.

As the bus picks up speed, you find your gaze drawn to the man.

His features are... Sharp, though not so much as to look intimidating; his eyes are half-moons as they stare longingly out the window, not taking in the view, more like just... Staring blankly; his breathing — visible from the rise and fall of his chest — is slow and steady, calm; and his nose is pointed, low, coming to a point just above those soft, kissable lips...

...

...Drat.

You clear your throat as if it'll clear your mind. Curse your tiredness, making your thoughts... Inappropriate.

You shift your bag in your lap, trying to distract yourself with the way the strap falls, the feeling of the stitching on the edges.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man turn his head to face you. His eyes roam down your body before dragging themselves back up to your face, and, noticing your irate expression (due to the fact that he took YOUR seat), he raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side.

He looks at you curiously, scanning your features as the bus bounces up and down when the wheels go over the bumpy road.

He seems to pause, almost hesitate.

"Good to know I'm not the only one with late nights," he says, a grin playing on his lips.

God, his voice...!

"Same here," you mumble, keeping your eyes set on the window to avoid looking into his.

You both slip onto a comfortable silence again, all quiet except for the sound of the bus moving along the tar road, making those distinct noises you've almost memorized.

You can sort of ignore him now, focusing only on the view outside.

It's... Peaceful. At this time of night, there are little people on the streets — those who are still awake are the drunkards, stumbling back to their homes; and the office workers, their gaits slow and steady, tired from the long day of work.

The shops are all closed, and though shutters are pulled down, the colourful lights of their signs remain on; blues, reds, and whites paint the sidewalk a kaleidoscope of colours, one you've never noticed until now. Your eyes roam from the colourful concrete to the signs whizzing past the bus in a blur, your eyes struggling to read the letters.

"What's your name, by the way?"

You're brought out of your thoughts at his question. His voice is strangely soft, his tone understandably wary as you turn your head to face him.

You introduce yourself, and he nods. He tests your name out on his tongue, humming in delight — as though he just tasted something sweet.

"Arataka Reigen, greatest psychic of the 21st century!"

His introduction is over the top, his voice like a salesman's as he spins his hand — so fast that's it's all a blur — before he abruptly stops, bringing it up for you to shake. He flashes you a charming grin, one that makes your cheeks flush.

You take his hand, savouring the feeling of his worn fingers wrapping around yours as he shakes it.

And, leaning in close enough to smell the sharp cologne his wears and said in a low whisper, "But you can call me Arataka."

Arataka leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest in pride as he grins at your flushed cheeks.

"It's the first time I'm seeing another soul at this time of night," he remarks, tightening his tie absentmindedly, almost like an unconscious fidget of sorts. You nod in response. You watch as his fingers wrap around the pink fabric of his tie slowly, getting a better grip before pulling it close to his neck, adjusting it to make sure it's not too tight.

You clear your throat again, averting your gaze.

"I'm... Honestly surprised to find another person coming home from work this late," you parrot, gritting your teeth as you focus on the window. Stop staring, stop staring...

He hums in amusement before it's quiet once more, broken only by the sounds of the bus's engine working to keep the vehicle moving.

It stays like this for a while. Both your gazes are fixed on the window, staring at the buildings passing by in a watercolour blur.

The city is... Nicer? You can't tell whether it's because you have a handsome man sitting across from you, or because it really does look prettier, but all the lights seem... Dreamier than usual, all the tree's leaves a few shades greener.

You can't help but notice his eyes flicker to yours every few minutes, though you never manage to see it directly.

"The city's quite pretty tonight," You mumble to yourself, staring out the window as you adjust yourself in your seat.

Arataka's next words are barely audible, just above a whisper — and his voice is quiet enough for you to be sure that you weren't supposed to hear it, like he was just saying something to himself.

"Sort of like you."

Your heart skips a beat.

"What did you say?"

Your tone is curious as your gaze settles on him again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes sparkling with the lights outside the window.

You can visibly see him get nervous: he breaks out into a sweat, his shoulders stiffening as he brings up the sleeve of his jacket to dry the beads of perspiration trickling down his forehead, his tone rushed and panicked.

"A-ah, hahaa—! What? I didn't say anything!"

You can hear the nervous grin on his face as he avoids your gaze, clearing his throat loudly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"You must've been hearing things! Those pesky spirits..."

Arataka clicks his tongue, scowling at the empty space above your shoulder for a moment before changing his expression to a neutral one again, bringing his eyes back to yours. The speed at which he gains and loses confidence is enough to give you whiplash — not that you mind, though.

"I can get rid of them for you," he says, with total confidence. He's grinning proudly, almost puffing his chest out a little.

It's... Endearing, if you can say that.

You pause, arching a brow at him in confusion.

"Get... Rid of...?"

Have you never heard of psychics before...?

He nods briskly, pointing a thumb at himself in pride. His mannerisms and movements are precise and swift, enough to get you to think he's done this kind of thing hundreds of times in the past.

"You're talking to a world renowned psychic, here."

...There's a beat of silence, save for the sound of the bus going over a bump.

"World... Renowned?" You parrot, your tone confused. You've... Never heard of this man in your life, this... Arataka Reigen.

He pauses for a moment, his jaw going slack and his hand falling a little before he quickly closes his mouth, his expression almost like he's laughing in disbelief.

"A-ah, yes, yes, world renowned! I'm known all across the globe! Surely you know my name?"

He sounds a little bit like he's in disbelief, though his voice remains prideful.

You raise your brow higher. He's egotistical, to put it lightly. Egotistical, but so, so handsome...

"I've... Never heard of you before," you say to him, watching in amusement as you wait for his reaction.

"Oh, come on!"

Arataka's voice is now definitely one of disbelief as he groans in exasperation, his voice and expression growing irate.

Surely you've seen his posters...? He told Mob to paste them on any empty surface.

"Never? Not even once?" He almost begs, nearly pleading, a note of desperation creeping into his words as he tries in vain to convince you of something you've already set your mind on.

...Which is to poke fun at him, of course.

You hum in thought, your gaze flickering to the window before bringing it back to meet his. There was one time — a rather embarrassing moment for him, in your opinion.

"...Well, there was this one time I saw him on TV..."

He's quick to cut you off.

"Oh, why— y-yes! Yes, no, no, you haven't heard of me, especially not on TV! No, nope! Never!"

His grin is too wide to be genuine; panicked, and his hands are all over the place — almost as though he's talking with them, too, as he gestures wildly. You can see the sweat droplets fly off his hands, in addition to seeing the light reflected off of them on his forehead.

You look on in amusement.

"I-I'm just your friendly neighbourhood psychic, providing exorcisms at competitive prices! Never been on TV, no sir-ee!"

He's sweating buckets now, his grin thin as he goes on and on and on. He just... Talks, and the only time he pauses in his speech is to take in a greedy mouthful of air before getting right back to his words, coming out of his mouth faster than you can understand them.

And though it is rather cute funny to see him act like this, you decide that it's about time you changed the topic and spare him the embarrassment.

...And it's at this moment exactly that the bus reaches your destination, and you need to get off.

You pause for a moment, double-checking the sign to be sure that it's your street. You're more than a little disappointed to be parting ways with this strange, handsome psychic, this Arataka Reigen.

"Uh... Bye, I guess," you say in mild disappointment. You give him a small smile as you sling your bag over your shoulders, sitting up from your seat.

You're leaving already...? He only just met you, though...

As you make your way to the door, you run your hands along the bus's seats, feeling the fabric beneath your fingertips. It's a sort of a... Habit, now, to touch the seats before you exit, like how you'd run your fingers over a bridge's railing. It delays you a few seconds.

...Wait. It's probably best to give you his card, y'know, for his number and the address of his office...

You're halfway to the bus's doors before Arataka stops you, calling your name, rifling through his suit's pockets and producing a sharp, white business card.

"My business card, for the exorcism I promised you."

He grins, jabbing the card in your face. Taking a moment to compute what he's doing, you quickly take it from him, thanking him. He nods in reply, bidding you 'bye-bye' in a quick, hasty voice once more as he waves you off the bus.

You stare at the card as you step out of the bus, making your way to the little flat you call home.

Arataka Reigen.

Your eyes trail down to the bottom, where you see a phone number.

His phone number.

Arataka's phone number.

★ ★ ★

All week, you stress. Should you call him? This... Mysterious, handsome psychic? What if he doesn't want to talk to you? What if he really did just give you his business card for business?

...The way his cheeks flushed when your hands brushed against each other tells a different story, though...

You're fidgeting with his card in your hands when you enter the train, finding that it's full with people coming home from work, as usual. It's just after sunset — the sun has only just dipped below the horizon, the last traces of its golden light fading as the pinks turn to blues, the blues turning to black.

You look back down to the card in your hands, still not having moved from far the train's doors, open wide.

Arataka Reigen.

Your fingers wrap around the frigid metal off the handle bar by the train's doors, though your grip isn't strong, still lost in your thoughts. You really, really wanna call him, but what if he really did give you his business card only for business? He didn't seem to really... Do anything special, nor did he say anything special. He just treated you like a normal client, it seems.

You're still thinking about how adorable his pink cheeks were, though...

The sudden jerk of the train starting takes you by surprise, and you nearly fall down — had it not been for the fact that someone gripped your upper arms tightly before your face could connect with the cold, hard floor.

You look up quickly, your face heating when you realize who it is.

Arataka.

He says your name in a disbelieving, breathless manner, his eyes wide and his expression awestruck for a moment before coming back to his senses. He startles, letting go of you in the blink of an eye as he lets out a yelp, his cheeks flushed a sweet pink as you feel yours heat in tandem.

He remembers your name.

Arataka remembers your name.

"We meet again," Arataka says awkwardly, the both of you standing in the middle of the train. It's a little hard to keep his voice steady and quiet, but he manages.

That well tailored grey suit of his is neat and ironed, his pink tie tightened and tied properly close to his neck. He looks... Good. Better than on the bus, at least.

You nod, trying to calm down your racing heart.

"...Arataka. This is a... Pleasant surprise."

...And just like that, it's awkward silence again.

At least it's not totally quiet though: there's the rumbling of the train car moving along on its metal rails, the rapid beating of your heart in your ears, your shallow breathing as you try to calm yourself down in vain...

Your eyes trail to the window, watching as the train emerges from the dark tunnel, getting bathed in the lights of the city's night life. There's the faint smell of disinfectant and sweaty clothes in the air.

It's when you almost fall over again that you finally decide to take a seat. Arataka follows suit, taking the seat beside you, seeing as all the other seats are taken.

He's awkward as he settles down in his seat, his side pressed up against yours. He looks either... Embarrassed, or ecstatic, since you're that girl he saw on the bus the other day, the one who made his cheeks flush and his heart beat wildly in his chest. You're that girl he'd given his business card to, the one that he's been waiting so, so patiently for to call, even so little as text him.

After a while, the two of you get comfortable against each other; the warmth of his body brings some sense of comfort to you, and the same to him. You... Fit, there, right by his side. He likes that.

Your eyes are trained on the window; the buildings are whizzing past the train, the yellows and oranges of the city lights blending together to form a pretty little painting. It seems so... Fantastical, and so... Unreal. You've never really paid any attention to the scenery...

The little cars on the roads are but small strokes of a brush on a canvas, their blacks and greys mixing in with the dull colours of the asphalt. There's people on the streets, since it's not too late in the night yet; they're all smoking, partying, drinking, having a good time... Because, after all, it is a Friday night.

...And you're alone.

God, you're pathetic.

You scowl slightly, settling into your seat, your side shifting against Arataka.

Though you don't notice it, Arataka's eyes aren't on the view outside the glass. He's looking at you, studying you, watching as your eyes dart from person to person walking along on the pavement, watching as you shift your bag on your lap to get more comfortable. His eyes are fixed on you as he roams his gaze up and down your body, using his eyes to trace the outline of your comfortable clothing and sighing, almost dreamily so.

You're really pretty.

...It stays like this for a while. Neither of you say anything to eachother, though both your minds are plagued by the other.

You find yourself fidgeting with anything you can — the cloth straps of your bag, the thin strands of your hair, the knuckles of your fingers. It's hard to keep your thoughts from going haywire when Arataka's body is pressed against yours, especially when it's almost quiet enough for him to hear your racing heart.

He, too, is freaking out — his heart is threatening to burst from his chest, his mind reeling so much to the point where it's starting to hurt. The only difference is that he hides it well, and you're... Well, you're not as experienced. And he's definitely noticed.

As he stares at you, Arataka calls your name softly, absentmindedly, and his heart almost stops when your eyes connect with his.

They seem so... So sparkly, so big and wide, taking in everything. They reflect the environment; Arataka can see himself in them as he gathers his thoughts quickly, clearing his throat loudly.

It's hard to form words around you, especially words that aren't 'kiss me', you know that?

"So how've you been?" He asks smoothly, ending his question with your name.

You hum.

"...Good. You?"

Arataka nods, his posture relaxed in relation to yours. He shifts against you, almost leaning against you, and your heart skips a beat.

"Great, yeah."

He begins to gesture with his hands again, something that you've missed seeing a lot more than you'd think you would — especially considering the fact that the only time you've met him is on a bus, late at night, the both of you definitely not thinking straight under the influence of sleep deprivation.

"So how's that spirit of yours holding up? Gotten it rid of already?"

He gestures to your shoulder, his expression neutral as he analyses the empty air. He definitely notices that you haven't done anything about this supposed spirit haunting you.

So you stay quiet for a while, unsure of whether to lie and keep him in this emotional state or tell him the truth and make it worse.

"I, uh... Haven't done anything yet."

...

"You WHAT?!"

The passengers in the train all shush him in unison, and Arataka mumbles a quick 'sorry' before leaning in close to you, shielding his voice from the outside with a hand, almost like children telling each other secrets. It's just an excuse to get closer to you, to be completely honest.

You can barely focus on what he's saying, your cheeks a bright red as you feel his breath ghost over your skin.

"You HAVE to do something about it, I mean—"

He makes small gestures to the space above your shoulder, trying his best not to upset the people beside him. He fails, evident in the way they scowl at him and take a few steps away.

"This thing is dangerous!"

You sigh, leaning a little away from him as you feel the red in your cheeks fade.

"It hasn't done anything, though."

"Hasn't done anything YET," he cuts you off, hissing in a whisper. "You could've DIED!"

He gets shushed again. He sighs in annoyance, leaning away from you and talking in a calmer, quieter voice. He's smooth with it; his words come out naturally, almost instinctually — it doesn't sound like he's been desperate to say those words ever since he met you, and it doesn't sound like he's begging you to say yes.

"How 'bout this, hm? I'm heading to my office right now for a late night job. Why don't you come and I'll get rid of this—" he scowls, swatting the space above your shoulder again —"horrid spirit of yours?"

You pause. It's a... Very, very tempting offer. On one hand, you want to go back home and rest; while on the other, you want to follow this handsome, blonde psychic and see how he'll 'exorcise' this supposed spirit of yours.

You decide quickly, just as a light rain begins to patter on the glass windows.

"Sure, alright," you say, giving him a slight smile. Arataka nods in response, smiling at you, before his gaze trails to the windows where the rain gets heavier and heavier the closer you get to Arataka's office.

"SEE?!" Again, he's shushed.

"This is the work of the spirit!" He says, gesturing to the heavy rain that's now beating aggressively on the window in an unpredictable drumbeat. The people on the streets panic and try to get to shelter, whilst others bring out umbrellas.

You're quiet for a while.

"The... Rain?"

He nods briskly, seriously.

"Spirits can influence things, you see. They range from small events like how hot you heat up your bento, to this," he says grimly, gesturing to the thunder and lightning that has started to strike the ground in bright white flashes across cutting across the grey sky.

"The bigger the event, the more powerful the spirit. And," he says, leaning back more in his seat and crossing his arms, "this is a crazy powerful spirit. It's unwise to leave it alone for so long. It's reacting in this way because we mentioned its existence."

"Oh, okay, that... Right, that makes a lot of sense," you agree slowly, nodding in response to his words. Arataka knows a lot about spirits, it seems.

He grins in triumph, just as the train announces its location and its doors slide open. He gets up, gesturing for you to follow.

"It's just a 15 minute walk," he assures you.

When you get out of the train station, you find that it's still raining heavily. There's that smell of rain, which is nice, and you get lightly showered with the cold droplets as they bounce up and off the pavement and road.

Arataka scowls, groaning under his breath as he takes out a pocket umbrella, clicking it open.

"We'll have to share. It's small because it's meant for one person."

He gestures for you to get under the umbrella. It's... Close. You're very close to him, just like in the train, though, this time, your bodies are only almost touching. The two of you have to shuffle on the ground a little to walk.

As you begin walking, you find yourself walking closer and closer until you're touching sides. Arataka doesn't seem to argue; in fact, he wordlessly slides a tentative hand around your waist, holding you tight to him as the crystal droplets of rain pitter-patter loudly against the tiny clear plastic umbrella he holds. His grip grows more confident and firm the longer his hand is there.

It's quiet when the both of you stop at a crossing, waiting for the cars to clear and the light to turn to the little man, indicating you can walk.

Then a particularly fast car comes along. It's definitely speeding, and when it nears the large puddle of water near the sidewalk, Arataka smoothly pushes you back, bringing the umbrella up to shield you, and only you, from the dirty water.

The dirty rain water splashes at his pants and the droplets from the sky pelt him, causing him to wince slightly. It makes his golden hair to stick to his forehead, makes his expensive grey suit soaked at the shoulders, makes his sleeves dripping wet.

Before you know it, he brings the umbrella up again, and begins walking again without a word. His hand finds itself back to it's position, holding you securely around your waist.

"Thanks," you say. He pauses, turning to look at you.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! THE RAIN'S TOO LOUD!"

You mutter a quick apology before repeating your thanks, this time shouting. His bewildered expression disappears, smiling cutely as he nods, before he continues walking.

The both of you continue in a comfortable silence for another minute or so before you reach the office. He leads you inside, shaking off the umbrella. The office smells... Really salty, coupled with the expensive scents of some kinds of incense you can't make out.

"Here we are!" He exclaims proudly. "Ah, oh, right. This is my apprentice, Mob."

Arataka places a firm hand on the shoulder of what looks to be a middle schooler with a bowl cut. He waves at you politely, smiling slightly, and you nod in response, waving back.

Arataka unbuttons his jacket and hangs it on the wall, and you have to clench your fists tightly to stop yourself from staring.

"Now," Arataka says smoothly, taking a seat in his chair and looking so, so attractive, "what package shall you take?"

He pulls out a piece of paper, with three courses labelled.

"Option A, the trial course, gets you 20% spirit reduction; option B, the serious course, which gets you 50% spi—"

Mob leans in to whisper something into his ear, and Arataka seems to be taken aback for a moment. He scoffs, hissing in a whisper, "Of COURSE there's a spirit, you just can't see it," which Mob seems to be placated by, going back to his spot reading manga.

Arataka clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak again.

"As I was saying," he glares at Mob, "Option A, the trial course, gets you 20% spirit reduction; option B, the serious course, which gets you 50% spirit reduction; and option C, the all-out course, gets you 99% spirit reduction." He gestures for you to take the seat in front of the desk.

"Of course," he says, grinning just like the hideous poster on the wall, "if it comes back, I'll get rid of it — for 20% off."

Sitting down, you bring the paper close to you...

...And find that every course is above your budget.

You smile nervously, pushing the paper back to him and getting up from your chair. This has clearly been a complete waste of time, especially since it all seems so sketchy, and you've only fallen for it because he's handsome...

"S... Sorry, Arataka," you apologise, bowing slightly once you've gotten up from your chair. "I can't really afford anything."

You move to the door, and it's only a moment later that you hear Arataka scrambling to get out of that fancy office chair, his brow slick with sweat and his words rushing out of his mouth.

"Woah, woah, woah, hey, my success rates are 99.9%! All my clients leave happy!" He cries, a note of desperation in his voice.

You shake your head, smiling politely. "No thanks."

He panics again as you reach for the doorknob. Your movements are slow — so, so slow, and it's definitely apparent that you're just stalling, as if waiting to see if he'll do anything.

He takes advantage of that.

Half stumbling and half sliding in front of you and using his body to block the door, he stands, gathering himself for a moment before—

"H-hey, hey, wait—!"

Arataka grips your shoulders tightly, beginning to massage. You pause, silent, a little taken aback.

"Feels good, right?" He says quietly as you almost melt at his touch. He's standing directly in front of you, staring at— no, studying your face as he moves his fingers in firm, soothing circles. "Like it?"

Your shoulders are absolutely screwed up.

You hum, rolling your joints a little bit. Arataka feels a surge of pride when a chorus of the cracking of your messed up bones fill the air, though he still presses gentle, relieving circles and dots into your skin, pressing enough for you to feel it firmly below the clothing you wear.

His touch, though soft and caring, is... Firm. Very, very firm, very unyielding. It's clear that he knows what he's doing, and it's clear that he's confident that this will work. His fingers are round dots of alleviation as they press softly into your skin, and their movements and placements are careful and calculative.

He grips your shoulders, dragging you slowly, slowly, slowly to the chair in the middle of the room and sitting you down on it.

Now that you're seated, Arataka feels your neck and shoulders a little. He goes round and round your little chair, pressing at this spot and that spot — he's looking for something, it's clear; he's looking for tightness or rigidity beneath your skin, places to apply pressure, places to soothe and fix.

You barely notice how his hands seem to almost lovingly caress you.

"Here?"

He bends down and shifts his hand a little closer to your neck, near that place that always aches when you look down — the base of the movement and the base of the neck itself. You sigh in delight, leaning into his touch — sending waves of butterflies and pride swelling in Arataka. His heart nearly bursts out of his chest as he sees you get more and more relaxed, enjoying his touch. His cheeks flush and a dopey grin adorns his face.

He hums, pressing more firmly and confidently.

It's about a minute later when Arataka retracts his hands almost reluctantly, his fingers lingering on you. You roll your neck and shoulders, sitting up and off the chair.

"I must say, Arataka," you say, shoving him slightly as a sort of playful gesture. His cheeks flush at the contact, a cute little grin on his face.

"That was a great massage."

His grin grows prideful, jabbing a thumb at himself proudly.

"You're talking to the greatest psychic of the 21st century, here!"

You sigh, almost dreamily so, as Arataka begins to go on and on and on about all his achievements, his accomplishments, his goals...

...

You pause. You have to pay — you can't just get caught up in his silly little endearing antics again.

"Um, Arataka?"

You interrupt him as he's talking proudly about himself, and he stares at you, a little confused and a little annoyed. He doesn't really care if it's you, though.

You gesture to the paper on the desk, the one with all the courses and prices. Your tone is regretful; you shouldn't have fallen so easily for such a blatant scam, c'mon, you're smarter than this...

"I can't pay. I didn't bring enough money."

Arataka pauses. Gears seem to turn in his head for a moment before his eyes light up, another one of those adorable horrible grins settling on his face again.

"Tell you what."

He tries to lean on the wall, finds that it's too far, and stumbles instead. He clears his throat, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Instead of paying, how about you..."

His grin widens as he pauses for dramatic effect. You wait patiently.

He's not actually pausing for dramatic effect, though; he's trying to get time to prepare what his tone will be, how his body language will look, how loud and confident his voice is...

It's a really, really long pause.

"...Go on a date with me?"

A date? With him? Mob's just sitting on the little couch in the corner of the room when he looks up from his manga, intrigued by the word 'date'.

Great. Now you've got a 14-year-old's pressure on your back.

You hum for a moment, thinking, as though your answer will be anything but a resounding yes. Your cheeks are flushed, but so are his once he hears what you say in response.

"Yes, please."

His grin widens in absolute joy, and he puts his hands harshly, securely in his pockets to prevent himself from grabbing you by the collar and sloppily kissing you right now.

He opens and closes his mouth to speak multiple times before he decides on what to say. He looks so, so happy — his eyes are wide and full of wonder, his grin is big and silly, and his cheeks are that same sweet pink as on the bus.

"Saturday? Saturday, 8:00 PM?"

You nod.

And waving goodbye as you open the door to leave, "I'll see you on Saturday."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Turkey Baster Experiment

Summary: Her cousin just had a baby via turkey baster, supposedly. Robin had to find out if it actually works. Based on this.

A continuation of me cleaning out my drafts.

1990, Chicago, Illinois

The Rockie Harrison Apartment (named in combination of all of their names)

It was Robin and Eddie's day off of work, so they were busy lounging in their pajamas watching Scooby-Doo. Their partners hadn't been so lucky. Steve was working as a middle school teacher, so of course, he didn't have a day off during the week. Vickie was working in a library at a different school, unfortunately, while she worked on also publishing her own book. Eddie worked as a mechanic. Robin worked at a bakery while also tutoring kids with their Spanish and French on the side. Some of them were rich kids, so occasionally, she could afford to take a few days off like she was now.

"You're such a Velma," Eddie said with a shake of his curls.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Robin said. "Velma is very cute."

"That would make Vickie Daphne?" Eddie asked.

"Duh, she can be such a Daphne sometimes," Robin grinned fondly.

"Steve is such a Fred," Eddie sighed dreamily.

"You're definitely a Shaggy," she said. "And the kids are definitely all Scooby."

"Robin. . .I'm feeling that empty nest thingy again!" Eddie exclaimed and pouted.

"It has been almost a year since they've graduated, and we moved here. Weeks since they've called us. It's not like we practically raised them or anything," Robin pouted. "Do you think they've forgotten about us?"

After the kids graduated high school, Steve and Robin decided to move to Chicago with their partners, who were happy to move anywhere as long as it wasn't Hawkins. It was in Chicago that they found a lovely abandoned old firehouse. It took some TLC, but it was liveable, and it housed them all perfectly. Plus, Eddie loved the pole that went down to the first floor, specifically when Steve used it as a stripper pole. Vickie and Robin had vowed never to use it once they learned what they did with it.

"Rob, they're in college now. El, Lucas, and Max are starting this new relationship. Will and Mike are still dancing around each other since Will broke up with Gareth. They're probably really busy," Eddie shrugged and then paused to wail, "They have forgotten about us!"

Suddenly, the phone rang, and Robin nearly broke her neck, jumping over the back of the couch to answer it.

"Oh, hey, mom," Robin said.

Eddie sighed and crossed his arms, pouting in his seat.

"Darn kids," Eddie muttered.

He focused on the show as Robin talked with her mother. Occasionally, he lifted his head when he heard Robin gasp about something. When the phone call was done, the episode of Scooby-Doo was finished, and another one was starting.

"What was that about?" Eddie asked Robin.

"My cousin finally had a baby. Although she didn't tell anyone that she was pregnant and it's crazy how she got pregnant in the first place," Robin said.

"Not the normal way?" Eddie asked in surprise.

"Well, she and her husband have been trying to have a baby for a while, but it hasn't happened, so she decided to take matters into her own hands," Robin said.

"She fucked another guy?!" Eddie gasped.

"Nope," she said.

"She fucked another girl?" Eddie asked in confusion.

"Dingus! No! She used a turkey baster and get this: she didn't use her husband's sperm to do it. She used his brother's!" Robin exclaimed.

"There's no fucking way," Eddie scoffed.

"She did. Her husband only found out because he went to the doctor and discovered he couldn't have kids," she said. "She told him the truth when he confronted her."

"No, not that. There's no way she got pregnant using a turkey baster," Eddie said.

"She did!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't!"

"I'll prove it," Robin said.

"Fucking how?" Eddie asked.

"You have a turkey baster of your own. You should be able to understand the concept of how she did it," Robin said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"No, I mean how the fuck are you going to prove it?" Eddie asked.

"Well, we have a turkey baster, and I happen to be ovulating," Robin said.

"Okay, so what happens if you do get pregnant?" Eddie asked.

"Then you get a baby like you and Steve have been talking about," Robin said. "Although Vickie's been kind of broody lately too."

"So, this kid would have two moms and two dads?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah," Robin said.

"This kid is either going to be the queerest kid ever, or we're all so queer that they're going to be the straightest person alive," Eddie snickered.

"Either way, because of us, they'll be the fast talking son in the west," Robin said.

"It could be a girl," Eddie said.

"No, it's play on words for - never mind. Are we doing this or not?" Robin asked.

"Hmm, maybe Steve and Vickie are right. Maybe we shouldn't hang out without them," Eddie said.

"Coward," Robin said.

Eddie and Robin stared at each other for a while. Eddie glared at her.

"Do it," Eddie said.

"You're up first, big guy," Robin said.

"Right."

Robin gave him a cup and shoved him into the bathroom. She waited rather impatiently outside the door. A couple of minutes later, she heard him groan in frustration.

"Problems? Just think about Steve at the beach when he ate that vanilla ice cream cone, and it started dripping into his sweaty, hairy beast of a chest, but instead of you gawking at him like an idiot, you reach over and start licking - "

"Okay, it's up! Stop helping!" Eddie shrieked.

Eddie glared at her when he walked out of the room and handed her the cup. She took it, and the turkey baster into the restroom, her head held high. He leaned against the wall, smirking when he heard Robin complain loudly.

"Well, if I didn't know I was a lesbian before this, this is definitely what would turn me. Disgusting!" Robin exclaimed.

"I've heard no complaints from Steve when he swallows!" Eddie exclaimed cheerfully.

"Gah!" Robin exclaimed as she came out of the bathroom. "It's done."

"Now what?" He asked.

"Now we wait," Robin said.

She threw herself down on the couch, turned herself upside down, and threw her legs over the back of the couch.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked.

"Helping your little guys find their way," Robin said. "Plus, it's a cool way to watch Scooby-Doo."

Eddie shrugged and copied what she did.

"Now, we wait," Eddie said.

An uncertain amount of weeks later. . .

Eddie was alone in the apartment while Vickie took Robin to a doctor's appointment. Steve was at work. Eddie was working on writing music when the door to the apartment burst open. Vickie stared at Eddie while Robin stood nervously behind her.

"Did you get my girlfriend pregnant?" Vickie asked.

"It was her idea! She seduced me!" Eddie said.

"How?!" Vickie asked.

"She called me a coward!" He exclaimed.

Vickie giggled and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.

"It's hard to stay mad at the mother and father of my child even if it was reckless of you guys," Vickie laughed again. "Just wait until Steve comes home."

"Oh God, Steve," Eddie realized, his face pale.

Eddie waited around nervously for Steve to come home. When he finally did, he walked in with a smile on his face. Oh good, he had a decent day. . . It was a decent day that Eddie was probably about to ruin. He walked up to Steve, greeting him with a tight hug and a kiss. He snuggled into Steve’s side, his cheek pressed against his. Eddie traced patterns in his chest.

"Hi," Steve said, looking at him in confusion.

"So, how mad would you be at me if I got your platonic soulmate pregnant?" Eddie asked.

"What is this now?" Steve asked with wide eyes.

"Robin's cousin got pregnant by turkey baster, and I called bullshit on that, then Robin wanted to prove it. I jerked off into a cup, and Robin squirted it up her hoo-ha with the turkey baster. Then, several weeks later, here we are," Eddie said and paused. "So, how was your day, sweetheart?"

Steve sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wrap his head around Eddie's ridiculous description of the situation. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and plopped down at the table.

"So, how are you feeling about this?" Steve asked Vickie and Robin.

"Excited," Vickie grinned. "We're all going to be parents."

"So, all four of us, huh?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Robin said.

"We're having a baby," he said softly, and then he grinned. "We're having a baby!"

"Three bisexuals, a lesbian, and a baby!" Eddie exclaimed, and they all looked at him. "What? Spock directed that film."

Steve laughed, pulled him into his lap, and kissed him.

"I'm happy this happened, but maybe next time you want to get Robin pregnant, maybe get all of us involved," Steve grinned.

"Hey, I was just trying to prove Robin wrong," Eddie said and smiled softly. "I'm glad I was the one who was wrong."

"I just realized this baby is going to part Robin and Eddie," Steve said.

"Oh god!" Vickie laughed.

"Hey! You guys are supposed to love us!" Eddie exclaimed.

"This baby is going to kick the shit out of me, aren't they?" Robin asked, holding her stomach.

Several months later. . . after many shenanigans during which Robin discovered that she could use Steve and Eddie as her willing puppets. . .

"Wednesday, huh?" Steve asked as he held the baby in his arms.

"You said we couldn't name her after a Scooby-Doo character," Eddie said defensively.

"Besides, you always said you love Wednesday because she reminds you of Max," Robin said.

"I'm not complaining, I love the name," Steve said grinning.

Wednesday Elizabeth Munson-Buckley had started arriving sometime during the middle of the night, much to Robin's annoyance. She had been busy sleeping. Wednesday had arrived that afternoon, surrounded by doctors and all of her parents. Now, here they were in Robin's hospital room, with Eddie and Vickie cooing over Steve’s shoulder.

"You did great, baby," Vickie said tearfully. "She's beautiful."

Vickie kissed Robin deeply before going back to gazing at the baby.

"You want to go next, don't you?" Robin asked her girlfriend.

"What?" Vickie asked.

"If we ever decide to give Wednesday a sibling, you want to be the one that's pregnant, don't you?" She asked in amusement.

"Ooh, both her and Steve could go next," Eddie said.

"Let's just see how this one goes," Steve said, laughing. "But probably."

"Oh, I called Uncle Wayne. He cried like, well, a baby when I told him I wanted to give her a w name in honor of him. He's going to call everyone else and let them know. So, we're probably going to have a full house sometime in the next few days," Eddie said.

Steve grinned and passed the baby back off to Robin. She smiled and stroked the top of Wednesday's head.

"Oh, I want her to have the whole world," Robin said.

"So, you want her to be an evil super villain hellbent on world domination?" Eddie asked.

"It's what she deserves," she said.

"She'll succeed where men have failed," Eddie said proudly.

"Yeah, that's a no," Steve scoffed.

"We're just keeping her options open, Stevie," Eddie said.

"It's not set in stone," Robin said. "We're just letting her know that we'll love her no matter what."

"I'm not supporting our daughter becoming a super villain," Vickie laughed.

"I guess we know who the fun parents are," Eddie said.

It certainly wasn't an everyday situation, and most people would call it abnormal, but to the four of them and the people they loved, it wasn't so strange. Wednesday would grow up to be well loved with four supportive parents and with an extended family to match. Stranger things have happened than a child growing up loved and isn't that the most important thing of all. . . That the child was loved?

[leahsgirl]

dramatic much | ella toone x female reader

veryyy short ella blurb to get back out there. no warnings.

sorry for my disappearance - writers block got the complete best of me and i hate every draft i make.

—

ella busied herself in the kitchen, occasionally stopping stirring the sauce in the pan to re-read the recipe on her phone.

some may say she’s been a little too aspirational in opting to make a three course meal for herself and you, considering she can barely make a bowl of cereal without something going wrong. but with her being away so much with with international duty and pre-season duties lately and little time for just the pair of you - she wanted to do something special.

in all fairness, everything was going to plan. she prepped the veg in advance, seasoned the chicken, and is yet to call alessia to come and save her (and the meal).

but nothing is ever easy in the world of ella toone, so as the brunette was jamming along to one of her notorious spotify playlist as well as peeling potatoes; she accidentally managed to slice her finger.

“fuckin’ el” she retracted her hand back in a jolt, watching in horror as blood pumped out of the small but painful cut.

she’s pretty sure this is the end, any minute now and she’s going to die from a haemorrhage which is why in a swift motion - like any self respecting adult would do - she whipped out her phone from her back pocket.

“hey babe.”

“how far away from home are you?”

“about five mins-ish, why?”

“i’m gonna die man! you need to hurry up.”

“what do you mean, what have you-“

but ella hung up and there you was; heart rate through the roof as you sat driving your car. it didn’t take long for you to get back though, probably breaking a few speed limits here and there.

“ella?” calling out as soon as you entered the premises.

“in the kitchen!”

you find the girl hunched over the counter-top, about thirty pieces (not an understatement) of kitchen roll wrapped around her hand. “what have you done?”

“bloody sliced my finger open.” you see the half peeled vegetables on the chopping board and piece two and two together, letting out an airy laugh “let me have a look.”

ella propped herself up onto the counter as you gently unravelled the tissue paper to reveal… a small cut. barely a nick, really, but enough to have your dramatic girlfriend convinced she was at death’s door. “oh my god you are such a hypochondriac.” 

“mate it was like a blood bath in here i nearly died.” the mancunian defended herself as you hummed along amused, searching for the first aid kit.

“it’s your fault too.” she vindicated.

“of course it is.” you said with a grin, playing along “what did i do?”

“if i wasn’t cutting potato’s for this meal i was making for you, then it wouldn’t of happened.” she huffed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“or maybe you and the kitchen just aren’t meant to be.” you opened a sachet of antiseptic wipes and motioned for her hand. “but i love the thought and effort.” you kissed her lips while slying cleaning the wound.

“shit shit shit!” the brunette pulled back and immediately went to wave her hand to stop the stinging “what you do that for?!”

“would your dramatic ass let me do it if i had told you? the answer is no.” you smiled sweetly at her and put a plaster over the cut. “there. all better.”

“wait you forgot something.” looking expectantly at you as you cleared away the rubbish. “what?”

“kiss it better?” you laughed at the childish behaviour but gave in, conceding a quick peck on her finger. “i’ve never known anyone as dramatic as you, ella toone.”

“good thing you love me isn’t it?” she hopped off the kitchen surface and smacked your butt.

“mhm. now go get changed so i can put that shirt in the wash.” pointing to the scattered red marks on the material.

“fine, but i’m stealing your hoodie.” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the bedroom.

_

well what was supposed to be ella’s culinary masterpiece ended up being your handiwork. after convincing the girl she’d done enough damage for one night, you took over in the kitchen, following the recipe she found. to your surprise, the meal turned out pretty tasty. ella hovered around you the entire time, watching your every move like an eager student, offering unhelpful advice and distracting you with cheeky kisses. not that you minded—it was nice to see her so invested, even if it meant she spent more time fussing over her finger than actually helping

with dinner over and dishes abandoned in the sink, the pair of you was settled on the sofa, scouring the tv for literally anything to watch. ella was cuddled into your side, messing with the remote as you combed your fingers through her hair.

“why don’t we see what’s on netflix? i think there’s some new shows out.”

“ugh there’s nothing good on netflix anymore.” the brunette moaned.

“you’re so hard to please sometimes y’know.” you teased as you took the remote off her and put on a movie both of you liked, one that you watched together more times than you can count “happy?”

ella nodded, “i’ll go grab some snacks.” she manoeuvred off you and the couch, bending down to steal a kiss on the corner of your mouth, the brief contact leaving you grinning. you watched her disappear into the kitchen, hearing the familiar clatter of cupboards opening and the rustle of packaging as she gathered your favorites.

she was back after a couple of minutes, hands now full with a bowl of popcorn, a bar of chocolate and two cans of pop. “here you go m’lady.” she said with a mock bow, gracefully placing the bowl on your lap and handing you one of the drinks. “thanks babe.”

she went to the other couch and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders like a cloak and making her way back to her personal pillow (you).

“ah! shit shit shit!” the older girl was now hopping around holding her foot.

“literally what’s just happened?” you look on in disbelief because realistically how many accidents can this girl get herself into.

“stubbed my bastard toe.” ella hissed through gritted teeth “think i’ve broke it, swear I heard a crack”

“oh for fucks s-“