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narumi-gens · 10 months

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my type itadori yuuji x f!reader

note: I just really like that "brother you're a man amongst men" line of todo's and wanted to use it in a not so sad context so here we are. everyone is out here going wild over hidden inventory gojo and geto but I'm still riding the best boy train.

minors, ageless, and blank blogs dni

For all of Yuuji's strength, there's little he can do as Todo drags him along at his side, a massive arm wrapped around his "younger brother's" shoulders. He tries to drag his feet. He tries to fight back. He even throws an elbow to the man's gut.

With no other option left, he has to beg.

"P-please don't! Don't make me do this! I'll do anything! Please just stop!" As the two of them round the corner, the coffee shop that Todo is leading him toward comes into sight and panic seizes him. "Brother!"

This finally seems to strike something in Todo. He comes to a stop and faces Yuuji, dropping a hulking hand to each of his shoulders. He then looks down at him, a grave expression on his scarred face.

"Brother, you are a man amongst men." Yuuji can't remember ever having heard Todo sound as serious as he does now. "You cannot allow yourself to be overcome by such timidness!"

His grip on Yuuji's shoulders tightens and if it were anyone else being held, they would be wincing and begging to be released. Yuuji barely registers the pressure.

"Takada-chan says a real man doesn't hesitate to go after the things he wants!" he continues, his voice increasing in volume and the two of them begin to garner stares from the few passing onlookers. "Brother, do you love this woman?"

Yuuji's face feels like it's on fire.

"L-love?" he cries out, the embarrassment swirling in his stomach. "I don't love her! I don't even know her!"

It's the truth. He doesn't know you. He doesn't know your likes and dislikes. He doesn't know about your hobbies or your family. He doesn't know about your dreams and wants.

All he knows is that you work at a new coffee shop in the area that Kugisaki dragged him to. All he knows is that you're so incredibly kind. All he knows is that when you smile at him, his heart pounds so loudly in his chest that he's afraid you'll hear it. All he knows is that you now know his name and his order by heart because of how often he's been frequenting the coffee shop.

"If you want this woman then you cannot falter now! You must demonstrate your commitment to her with courage and heart!"

Before he can protest again, Todo's arm is once again tightly wrapped around his shoulders and he's pulled along into the coffee shop. He allows himself to feel the slightest relief at how empty it is. At least there won't be a large audience to witness his humiliation.

But any relief disappears as soon as he sees you at the counter. Where he would normally feel butterflies in his stomach at how your face lights up as you notice him, now all he can feel is dread. This is the last time you'll ever look at him without thinking of him as the weirdo who bothered you at work and thought he actually had a chance with you.

And he can't even savor it because Todo drags him to the counter and before you've even had a chance to greet either of them, he curls his hand into a fist and slams it onto the countertop. It cracks under the pressure and you can only look on in shock.

The sound catches the attention of the only other two customers as well as your coworker, who runs out from the back to see what's going on, only to freeze when they see Todo's intimidating shape.

"What kind of man is your type?" he asks you. The question shouted in your face, which is Todo's regular volume.

You blink at him dumbly, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to move past your surprise.

"M-my type?" you repeat and although you stutter, there's no tremor in your voice and both Yuuji and Todo are impressed by your fortitude. You take a moment to look at Todo fully before your nose wrinkles slightly. "Sorry, I'm not interested. But I'm happy to take your order."

Todo laughs jovially and brings a hand to his chest.

"My heart already belongs to another," he tells you proudly and you give him a suspicious look, unsure why else he would be asking, before you shrug. You bring up a finger to your chin and look up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Well, if I had to say...I like strong guys who are nice, I guess?" you offer and Yuuji's breath catches in his throat, his eyes going wide.

You like strong guys? Yuuji is a strong guy.

You like nice guys? Yuuji is a nice guy.

"Um, also..." Your expression turns a little sheepish and you scratch the back of your head as you give them a slightly embarrassed smile. "I kind of like it when they're a little dumb."

Todo squeezes him tightly in victory and Yuuji wonders if this is what hope feels like.

#i like em dumb. what can i say 🤷‍♀️#itadori yuuji #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori fluff #yuuji fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #mel writes #my type #best boy

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sorrowfulrosebud · 9 months

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Imagine being werewolf Katsuki’s mate during his heat rut but still having to go to work. Of course you love your mate and want to help him in this vulnerable state, but you also need to buy him stuff, especially if his rut comes out of nowhere.

For 4-7 days every 4 months, Katsuki can’t keep his hands off you; whimpering and growling possessively every time you have to leave his den, licking your neck and of course trying to sink into every wet hole you have. It makes it difficult to bring him his favourite snacks and drinks, and god forbid if you forget his Yakult yoghurts.

So, when god is absent and he runs out of his favourite foods, you have to take… other measures to keep his horniness satiated.

“Sukiiiii, I’m homeeeee!” You call into your home. Your tote bag was spilling at the seams with your mate’s snacks, your wallet crying at his expensive taste. You take your shoes and coat off before meandering upstairs to your shared bedroom.

You toss Katsuki a look as he whimpered at your entry. Currently, your precious pup was hog tied, thick leather cuffs around each limb. His red leather collar was chained to the headboard, though it did look worse for wear due to his struggling.

His teeth bit into the gag in his mouth, drool and slobber around his chin. Desperate whines left his lips, eyes surely rolling to the back of his head under the silken blindfold.

A fuck machine was plowing into his ass like no tomorrow, the small hearts from the flogger you teased him with still pink against his porcelain cheeks. The medium dildo was abusing his prostate as his moans grew louder and louder. A large cum spot soaked the sheets beneath him as the duvet stroked against his already exhausted cock.

Katsuki’s ears twitched as he turned to the door, saddened but desperate whimpers as he tried shaking the blindfold off. You strolled into the room slowly, enhancing your sounds so he understands what’s happening. The bed groaned under the weight of your added body, the hum of the fuck machine a steady rhythm.

“Aww, is my puppy done for now, hmm? Shall we take a break?” You teased, rubbing your fingers on the sensitive patch of skin above his tail. Katsuki sobbed and nodded desperately. Your hand flattened as you stroked his back lovingly.

“But you look so sweet like this, baby! Does this cock feel better than mine? Maybe I should leave you here for the entire week, hmm? I bet you would love that, wouldn’t you my puppyslut?” You murmur into his fluffy ear, kissing the soft down gently.

Katsuki shook his head hurriedly, unintelligible sobs drowned by his broken and muffled moans. The cuffs shuffled loudly as he fought to break free, the headboard starting to crack.

“Okay, pretty pup, I won’t. But you look so cute like this. My handsome mate, can you give me just one more? Then we can take a break,” you ask him softly, stroking his sweaty back. His tail sprung to life as his fingers flexed, desperate to hold you in some way.

You turned off the machine, causing Katsuki to whine at the lack of friction. With a single tap, he turned to his side, allowing you to snuggle up to him. He instantly took refuge in your neck, taking deep breaths to inhale your comforting scent. You unbuckled his gag, allowing him to stretch his aching jaw. Your hands rubbed over the flushed skin in silent apology, before skimming over his flushed abs and reaching his reddening cock.

“Hgnnn, just fuck my cock,” he whined noisily as you shushed him. You eventually found a steady pace and jerked him off, hissing as your mate bit into your neck in pure ecstasy. Carmine eyes were expanded into galaxies of black, too blissed out to care. His body burned with lust, and you were his only saviour.

“Fuck, fuck, shit! Oh fuck, I’m gonna-” he couldn’t finish his sentence as his cum absolutely ruined your jeans, rope after hot rope draining his balls as he chased his high. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, pants consuming his entire chest.

1 day down, a few more to go.

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou #Bakugou smut #concockted (hehe) this in like 5 mins don’t hurt me pls #I need him on a fuck machine #doing chores whilst he’s chasing pleasure but feeling bad but also needing to get shit done bc he’s always trying to jump ur bones #sweet fluffy aftercare too #man loves his yoghurt what can I say #werewolf Katsuki smut #sub Bakugou #Bakugou smutty Drabble

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teddybeartoji · 2 months

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彡 A MASSIVE PILE OF GUILT

☆. contains: tooru oikawa x gn!reader; this is called angst i think (with comfort), reader plays volleyball and oikawa comforts them after they lost a match, reader talks badly about themselves:( i'm sorry, they swear they're just really really good friends but they're also just fucking stupid wc: 4k

in the blink of an eye the loud screams and cheers transform into a disgusting mix of muffled noises in your ears. the lights are too bright and you feel like you're stuck to the ground; stuck under hundreds pairs of eyes. you can't move, you can't breathe. your arm stings, a painfully clear reminder of your fuckup.

you should've had it, you saw it coming, you had a plan and yet - here you are, watching the colorfol ball hit the wall of the big arena with a quiet thud!. your eye twitches, locked onto the missed oppurtunity in a form a sphere sit metres away from you and your teammates.

because of you.

like a statue; turned into stone, you stand in your awkward position, unable to comprehend that it's over. that it's really over. it feels like everybody is looking at you, cursing you in their own heads. is this what drowning feels like? even if you could open your mouth to try and save yourself with a big breath of air, the stifling stench of losing would surely just make you choke harder.

a palm slaps onto your shoulder and you don't have to look at the person to know who it is – a dejected captain trying to pick up their loved teammates. you can't look at them; how could you? they're trying to cheer you up while you're the sole reason you lost in the first place. they give you a squeeze, a silent plea for you to snap out of it and you comply, not wanting to humiliate them any more.

you did well!

an arm around your shoulder, you're being dragged away from the court and you taste blood – the result of biting into the soft skin of your inner cheek in order to surpress a cry. the lights are too bright and you just want out.

after the handshakes and the formalities are done, your coach gives you all a pep talk. not that it helps but what else is there to say right now. you eat in almost complete silence; the only sounds in your ears being the chewing and the crying.

you've yet to do that. your lip wobbles and your eyes are red but so far, no tears. but you know you will – it'll be the only thing you'll be doing after you've locked yourself away into your room.

good game!

you feel sick. the food in your mouth is starting to taste like vomit and the water isn't helping either. still, you refuse to stop. refuse to raise your eyes from your table to ask whether you can leave. you will sit there as long as the others do and you won't complain. you will eat the food just like the others do and you won't complain. you don't get to do that.

the hugs feel just as suffocating as the eyes. you've never felt this bad in your whole entire life. you feel bad for thinking that the hugs feel suffocating – they're literally trying to comfort you and you're blatantly refusing it. stupid. stupid. stupid.

everyone has their own things they do after a loss. some like to be alone, some like to go for a run, some like to beat the fuck out of a punch bag and some like to do watch a comedy film with their teammates. it's silly; none of them laugh during it anyway. but it helps. you know it does because you've done it with them – not this time though. and they don't pressure you; they're not stupid, they understand how it feels. you need a moment and they will give it to you.

your captain does sit you down for a second before letting you go though, calmly telling you how it wasn't your fault and how you'll get it next time. and it sucks. it sucks that you don't hear it... it sucks that nothing will make this feeling go away. you know it and your captain knows it.

their warm hand resting on your back does soothe the shivers that have been tormenting you ever since you lost the ball. and for the first time since that moment, you crane your neck, raising your heavy head to meet their eyes and now you do feel like crying. the sadness is there, but so is the same warmth, the same adoration one has for their loved ones. nobody is upset with you, nobody blames you. their hand rises from your back and goes up to ruffle your hair as you let your head fall against their chest. "you're okay."

they hold you close as your tears soak their shirt. you hear a loud sigh and you know they're holding back theirs. the shivers are back and you hiccup out a broken i'm sorry, which makes the captain pull away immediately and grab your shoulders.

"don't. it wasn't your fault. it wasn't. you can cry as much as you want but that? you're not allowed to do that." there's a certain determination in their glassy eyes and you have no other choice but to weakly nod your head before letting it fall again.

"by the way, i saw you not eat properly, so i'm keeping an extra eye on you tomorrow morning, okay?" they poke your cheek and you're thankful. "i'm gonna watch the movie with the others but i'm keeping my phone close by, so if you want company at any time, just let me know."

you raise your head back up, desperate to show your appreciation for them and nod again, cracking the world's smallest and saddest smile and they ruffle your hair again before standing up. "you're okay."

they close the door behind them and you take a minute to compose yourself. you can't seem to stop your hands from shaking though and it makes you angry. your now empty room is too quiet and your own reflection in the window is taunting you with an ugly expression. is that really how you look like right now?

you don't wanna know and you don't want to keep looking at it either. so you grab your hoodie and your wallet and make your way to the lobby of the hotel. maybe the reflection in the vending machine won't be so mean.

and it isn't. it's not mean at all. it's the exact opposite actually. from the fact that it's staring at you with rather soft eyes to the fact that it's not your own reflection.

"good game, right?" you scare yourself with your own voice – already so harsh and raspy. it comes out mean and you wince. you tear your eyes from his, focusing on the sweet drink that's locked behind the glass instead.

oikawa is never this quiet and it makes you want to hit him. make a joke. just do it. just do it already. but he doesn't. his steps are quiet as he goes to lean on the vending machine. he's nothing if not observant; he sees your shaky hands pressing the buttons with so much effort; how the lips that are usually pulled into a beautiful grin he loves so much are now wobbling, ready to spill all of your sorrows. your clenched jaw as you try to avoid his gaze for whatever reason.

please, look at me.

the vending machine dings as the mechanics push your drink to you. his eyes are unforgiving and you know he means well. you know he's not gonna make fun of you, he's not gonna tease you – not now. but you still feel ashamed, whether he says the joke or not; the joke has already been made and it's right here, standing in front of a stupid pink vending machine.

your head shakes on it's own, casting shame on yourself on it's own. the drink falls with a loud thud! but before you can kneel down to get it, a hand on your wrist stops you.

his hand is so warm and it's unusual, considering he tends to be cold almost always. he doesn't push you and let's you take a deep breath before you raise your eyes to his.

if his heart wasn't shattered before, it sure is now. your eyes are red and glassy, but mostly tired, so tired. there's no glint in them, dull and sad. his hand slips from your wrist to your palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. "you did well."

your head falls back as you choke out a broken laugh. "oh, fuck off. i don't wanna fucking hear that. it makes me sick." staring at the ceiling, you shake your head again as if to rid of the words from your mind.

oikawa feels useless. he's been in your situation and yet, he can't think of anything good to say. he remembers how much he hated whenever people said that to him after their loss to karosuno. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat; everything he comes up with just makes him feel even more sick. he wants to cry because he doesn't know how to comfort you. how to make it all better.

"do you want me to stay with you?"

that's the best he can come up with. maybe just his presence will be enough when his words clearly aren't. but when you shake your head again, his heart sinks.

"that's alright. let's uh– ... tomorrow, yeah?" bringing your eyes down from the ceiling, you try to give him a reassuring smile that says i'm fine but it obviously doesn't work. you see the hurt in his eyes and you just feel bad. you feel bad for everything. you're upsetting people even off the court. you just can't help it can you?

"i'm good. i just need to be alone right now." you try again, squeezing his hand. his mouth opens but another voice cuts him off.

"oikawa!"

from around the corners emerges an angry looking iwaizumi. "here you fucking are. coach said it's bed time—"

when his eyes travel from his troublesome best friend over to yours, he swallows his words in an instant. you see the remorse wash over his face and you kind of want to laugh. it's all too funny in a fucked up way. "sorry for interrupting. hey, that was a really goo—"

good game!

he stops himself. fuck. what do you say in this situation?

"good game, i know. maybe next time it'll be a great one, hm?" the bitterness just oozes out of you without your consent, making iwaizumi wince. you feel bad.

pulling your hand from oikawa's, you kneel down to finally grab your nearly forgotten drink. "it's okay, really. i know what you mean."

another weak smile. a pathetic one. "see you at breakfast, yeah?"

oikawa shoving iwaizumi is the last thing you see as you're making your way back to your room. your hands still haven't stopped shaking and opening the door is so fucking hard. the key card slips from between your fingers—

breathe... in...

and out...

you kneel down and pick it up in slow motion as you're tunnel visioning on just getting inside the room. you hear the click! and you burst in, slamming the door shut. the ugly reflection is back and it's laughing at you and you can't do it anymore. your knees buckle from under you, hitting the soft carpeted floor as you weep. hunched over, you just look like a big pile of guilt.

clutching at your heart through your shirt, you cry and you cry, taking in raggedy breaths just to let out pathetic little sounds. everything hurts – your knees, your arms, your head, your eyes, your fingers, your legs, your inner cheek. you pretty much crawl to the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues before plopping right back down onto the floor. your nose hurts, too.

for almost an hour – you don't move from your spot, rooted and rotting into the carpet. it's pathetic. you think about how the others are watching the movie, shedding tears quietly but together, nonetheless. sick of your own actions, you push yourself up and change your clothes. you even manage to drink some water and wash your face in this half-alive state of being. a+ for effort, huh?

you bury yourself under the blanket, wishing the bed would swallow you whole instead. the tears have returned and you feel the pillow getting wetter and wetter by the second. you don't have it in you to grab another tissue though, letting the feeling of the soaked material remind you of your fuckup.

a floor and a few rooms away, oikawa can't stop pacing around. "but they said they didn't want me to go with them...."

"have you ever considered that people lie, idiot?" a tired iwaizumi replies from underneath his blanket on the bed. "especially in a situation like this. it's not like you were any better, you know."

oikawa just glares at him, although it's very hard for iwaizumi to take him seriously when he's wearing his matching plaid pj set. "but what if they get upset that i didn't listen to them?"

"but don't you wanna go and comfort them?" iwaizumi questions harshly. "don't you wanna be there for them? is your fear of overstepping more important than their well-being right now?"

oikawa thinks of your tired, sad eyes and his fingers twitch. "no."

"obviously, dick. go on, then. you have to be back for breakfast though or i'll punch you." iwaizumi states before turning away from his friend and disappearing completely under the blanket.

"you're so mean, iwa... can you not threathen to punch me every two seconds? i'm trying to be so good." oikawa mutters with a pout, grabbing his phone and his hoodie, ready to be your knight in shining armor. knight in plaid pyjamas more like.

"just go already." his friend grumbles and oikawa gifts him a small bye-bye as he's already halfway out the door. the next thing he knows, he's sprinting through the hallways, thanking himself in his head for making you tell him your room number the second he saw you this morning. he doesn't even take the elevator, instead taking triple steps up the stairs. he's also thanking himself for becoming an athlete.

knock! knock! knock!

dismissing that as just a noise from the room next door, you continue your sniffling but when the knocks repeat in a faster manner, you figure one of your teammates had forgotten their key card. so, ever so slowly you push yourself from the comfort of your bed and head over to the door while trying to wipe the tears from your eyes as to look at least a little bit more composed. you're even ready to crack a joke about them losing the card, desperate to disctract the person behind the door from yourself.

but it's not any of your teammates, nor is it your manager of your coach.

it's your oikawa instead – eyes wide open and slightly panting. "you said you don't want me here but i– fuck, how many steps can be between one floor..." he clutches his hand over his chest, the stupid comment slipping out all on its own.

for a millisecond, for a fraction of time, the corners of your lips turn upward but they fall just as fast back down, leaving you both just standing there, staring at each other.

your eyes look way worse now; way more red, way more tired, way more sad, way more dull than a mere hour ago. he should've come here sooner and he imagines iwaizumi slapping the back of his head for his mistake.

"you said you wanna be alone but i don't care."

his blunt statement catches you a little off-guard, your eyebrows furrowing but oikawa just takes it as a green light. if you didn't want him there, surely you'd tell him that right away but you've been standing here with him for a almost half a minute and nothing.

he takes a step, closing the distance between the two of you. he pushes his glasses up on his nose and fiddles with his own fingers and it's weird again. he's nervous. but this isn't about him – it's about you. whatever he's feeling right now is nothing compared to what you're feeling and he just wants to be here for you.

for a second time today, he watches your bottom lip wobble and your chest rise as you take short sharp breaths. and for a second time today, a pair of eyes feel actually comforting. he's not trying to burn you, he's not trying to take back time and alter your actions. he's merely observing instead of dissecting. he's ready to catch you when you fall.

and you do. it's hard not to when he's standing in front of you and looking at you so fondly. your head falls against his strong chest, hands tucked between your bodies as his firmly wrap around you. he takes another step inside and closes the door behind him with his foot.

he listens to you cry into him, he feels your tears on his shirt and through it, on his skin. your hands grasp onto the material, bunching it up in your fists and he just holds you tighter against him.

"you're gonna win next time, i promise" he murmurs.

but when you just sob out a but i wanted to win this time, his heart aches so bad he thinks he's going to die.

oikawa curses at himself for walking right into that one and this time he swears he feels iwaizumi slap the back of his head for real. but he has no time to pity his poor choice of words when he feels your hands clutching at him just where his heart is.

he whispers a quiet i know and you sniffle again. he starts drawing soothing circles onto your back with his palm and he feels so warm. releasing his shirt from your hold, you snake your hands around his body instead, burrowing your face even more into his chest and you faintly hear him coo. it's the first time ever that he's done it in a genuine way and it's the first time you haven't felt the need to punch him for it.

his hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place as he gently sways the both of you from side to side. "i got you."

after some time, he feels you going slack against him and decides to guide you to the bed. he climbs in with you and safely tucks you into the crook of his neck and lets you cry some more as he whispers it's okay against your temple. he just hopes that he's actually helping, that his words actually have an effect. god, he hopes he's making it at least a bit better for you.

he is. he's doing more than he could ever imagine. the thick goo of guilt and shame seems to be draining out of you when you feel his lips brush against your skin. he just might be washing the it off of you with his quiet praise. his words don't sound condescending nor do they sound fake. he means it when he says that you really did do well.

the tears have dried by now and oikawa can feel your eyelashes fluttering against his neck. the long tiring day is finally catching up to you as your breathing slows. he rests his head on top of yours and presses your body indifinitely closer to his. the tips of his fingers dance across your skin, drawing little circles and hearts as he soaks in the sight of you relaxing against him under the moonlight.

"did..."

your meek voice makes him crane his neck back so he can look at you better, ready to hear out whatever complaint you have, ready to comply to whatever request you have.

"did iwaizumi send you?"

...

"WHAT?" it comes out way louder and in a way higher pitch than he'd intended it to. he immediately clears his throat but his eyebrows are still furrowed. "i wanted to come here, why would you say that..."

he still can't see your face clearly from this angle but the way your body moves, is telling him that this isn't you crying anymore. this is you laughing.

"are you– are you fucking laughing at me right now?" he questions, trying to pry you from his neck to confirm his suspicion. and he's fucking right. when you finally unlatch yourself from his body and roll onto your back, you have the tiniest, smallest smile on your lips and oikawa's mouth falls slack. "i wanted to come! i– i'm a good friend!"

it shouldn't be this funny. it really shouldn't because he is a good friend, isn't he? he's here now, holding you, comforting you; he came to you and you're now making fun of him. but you can't help it, the thought of iwaizumi "lecturing" him is silly in this moment. not that you doubt that he came here only because of that, of course. but knowing him, you just think he probably needed a push to actually do it.

oikawa holds himself up above you, observing the small freckles that adorn your face. your eyes are still red and still tired but... the small little glint is back. the same one that's always there when you make fun of him. or when you laugh.

"i literally ran here and this is how you treat me?"

"you're telling me it took you an hour to run up the stairs? i thought you were a volleyball player, shouldn't your stamina be better–" you poke at his chest (right where his heart is) and he lets out a very loud and a very dramatic gasp. "or did your boyfriend have to convince you to come over and console me?"

oikawa's lips tilt into a smirk, happy to hear you barking at him at last. "first of all, don't ever call him my boyfriend ever again–" he situates himself next to you, so his both hands are free. you should've seen this coming, too. "and second of all, you really oughta treat me better."

before you can taunt him with a good old "or what?", his hands are tickling your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as laughter bubbles up from your throat. you try to fight him off, hands clutching onto his in order to stop his torment but to no avail.

"i am... trying... to be.... a good... friend... and this is... what i get... huh..." he rasps as he continues soaking in the sound of your laughter.

"you're.... always... in it for something... that's not... a... real friend... tooru..." you breathe back with a grin and he stops. he doesn't take his hands off of you though, just resting them on your waist.

"you're spending way too much time with iwaizumi, you're both just so mean to me." he's pouting. oikawa is sitting back on his legs and he's actually pouting.

"am i gonna have to console you now?"

"yes." he deadpans.

...

you push yourself up onto your elbow and lean up to boop his nose. "you're stupid."

"no, you're stupid." he grins back.

he has his ways of getting you out of a slump, he always has. him sitting here on your tiny little bed, pouting and laughing is only merely of them. you couldn't wish for a better friend. his hands feel so warm on you and you're so grateful. sitting up, you slap your hands on his shoulders (which of course, makes him wince in a very over the top way). "thanks for coming, tooru."

he rolls his eyes. "pffft."

...

pfft?

"excuse me?" you glare at him and he decides that you and iwaizumi can never hang out ever again.

"i– i meant– yeah, of course. anything for you." he stutters out as you keep glaring at him. he then leans in closer, so much so that your noses are almost touching. "i'm really proud of you, you know."

heat crawls up from your neck and you feel the tips of your ears warm up, overwhelmed by the sudden genuine praise. but you can't let him have the upper hand. not now, not ever. he'll never let you live it down.

"your breath stinks, you know."

his eyes close with another incredibly dramatic sigh as he rests his forehead against yours but while doing so, he takes notice of your hot skin and the way you giggle, and translates it into your language –

thank you.

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geraskierfanficprompts · 12 days

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Prompt 12

Geralt has a thing for biting. Jaskier has a thing for not looking like a mauling victim the day he performs at a very prestigious court. Geralt agrees he'll hold off on the biting for a few nights, so Jaskier is "presentable." But now he looks unclaimed. He looks like he has nobody that loves him and watches over him. Nobody that can bite him in the heat of passion. Geralt sucks it up and decides that he'll just have to come along to make sure nobody gets any ideas about doing anything to his bard. And so what if he spends most of the night staring longingly at Jaskier's neck like some kind of starved vampire? Who says you get to judge? *grumpy witcher noises*

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yanderederee · 1 year

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Im Rooting for You..!

April24th, 2004

a/n: no trigger warnings!! Mostly fluffy!! <333 this was my first attempt at Baji removing his nerd disguise, but it got buried and I forgot ab it!

Before… › here! › After!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

“Say.. Baji,” you said, almost in a whisper.

You’ve been tutoring Baji for about three months now. He was doing well, well enough that he could get by without your paid support. Yet…

Even knowing this, you wanted to stay by his side, and know more about him.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to Baji. He was gentle, considerate, dutiful, passionate — well, that aside…

You just weren’t ready to part ways. Not yet, at least.

There was just one thing bothering you.

These three months, you felt as though there was a huge part of Baji you still hadn’t met yet. Like he was only showing you a mask of a person.

You wanted to see who Baji Keisuke really was. Behind the thick rim glasses, behind the suppressed persona he claimed to be.

“Why… don’t you drop the act, around me..?” You asked, forced and meek.

You tried to maintain an aura of composure. Baji could sense that.

He picked up on your little mannerisms so easily now. The glasses actually ended up being a blessing, he was soon to realize. You could never tell when he stared at you, or read him quite right.

They kept you curious. He liked that growing curiosity of yours, and wasn’t sure if he was ready to give in so easily.

“What act?” He feigned jokingly, maintaining his composure without neglecting his handwriting over the latest study packet.

You gave your best glare, which only came off as a pout, crossing your arms passive aggressively. “Fine.” You sighed sarcastically, heaving yourself from your seat.

He realized quickly you were packing up for the day. “If you’re going to keep pretending around me, then keep it that way. I’m leaving. ”

What did you mean by that? What the hell made you so mad all of a sudden?

“Leave? I still don’t understand h—“ he tried to weave his way back into your usual groove, but you looked back at him with a somewhat… hurt expression, stopping all brain function he had.

The hell were you looking at him like that for?

“Baji.. I’ve done by duty as a tutor. If…. If that’s all I will be to you, then I …” you said shakily, having to pause a moment to maintain your poise composure.

“If you’re worried about how I’ll react to knowing the real you, please, stop. I want to be your friend. A real friend to you. I don’t want to keep pretending like I don’t notice the way you act differently around me.”

Your face was getting warmer and warmer, the more embarrassing things you were saying.

You weren’t planning to spill your heart out, this type of honesty was beyond your comfort, so why couldn’t you stop?

“Whoever you turn out to be, I would proudly stand beside you. S-so,”

“Wait,” Baji stopped you, voice stern and face completely hidden from view.

Baji knew why he’d kept who he really was from you for so long. He wasn’t a coward, he wasn’t hiding behind a mask because he thought you were shallow enough to shun him.

He was hiding because as soon as you got wrapped up in Toman, your life could be at risk.

Having no way to fight or protect yourself, being associated with Toman would only make you a walking target. Being involved with a gang was unpredictable. Some real sick fucks roamed these streets.

There’s no telling what one miscalculation would result in your inevitable pain.

Emma, Mikey’s own sister, had been held at knifepoint more than once. Attacks against her have been made more than Baji even knew. But no matter what, Mikey was always there to protect her and ensure her safety.

Could Baji say the same? He wasn’t sure if that was a promise he could keep. Baji is protective by nature, but throwing you into that life without giving you fair warning would be cowardly.

It was easier to end what wasn’t meant to continue.

“It doesn’t matter if you accept me or not.” He felt himself fall into poker face, acting harshly neutral. “I won’t let you throw yourself in my life just cause it seems fun. Our crowds don’t walk the same streets, y/n.” He hissed, hardened eyes hiding behind the thick rims.

Baji has never used this tone with you before.

You were bound to be scared of him now, (right?).

“I respect how smart you are, but you’re looking to get yourself killed. I won’t be apart of it.” He said finally, his things gathered and stature towering over you when he walked past you and out the door.

You didn’t even get a word in before he was slamming the door behind him.

It hurt to swallow, but he kept telling himself that he was doing the right thing, keeping you at arms length.

He wasn’t smart. He didn’t stop Kazutora before he made that irreversible mistake— to shoulder so much guilt. Baji hasn’t noticed that the bike shop Kazutora led him to was Shin’s shop. If he was just a little smarter and noticed that obvious thing, he could have saved Shin—- saved Kazutora!

… This is how he saves you, right?

This was fine, this was the intended outcome. Baji could self study from now on.

To hide this gnawing guilt, he buried it deep, deep, deep down.

Toman has a fight tonight after all.

The perfect stress relief.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Chifuyu had always wanted to be a wingman, and after he realized Baji’s crush on you, he was eager to spring into action. You were innocent and cute, opinionated yet kind. Quick witted and perceptive. Chifuyu knew you were struggling to keep your patience with Baji.

That’s why, when Baji made his dramatic exit, Chifuyu’s snooping-self quickly snuck in to evaluate the damage. And just as he’d guessed, you were left flabbergasted and flooded with frustrated tears.

“P-please wait! Before you judge him too harshly, let me speak!” He stammered. He’d never spoke more than a few pleasantries to you before now, yet there he was, desperately trying to make a case in Baji’s defense.

It took a little explaining, but without giving too much of the situation away, Chifuyu had managed to get you to agree to follow him. He promised on his life that he was trust worthy, and honestly, you believed him.

So that’s how you found yourself in audience of a bunch of thugs gathered for mischief just ahead of you. A long row of motorbikes rangling the boys into formation.

You weren’t sure where to spot Baji, his dead give away glasses being no where in sight. Still, Chifuyu promised that if you kept your eye out for his own blonde bowl cut, you’d spot Baji not far behind.

Before you could get a proper gander, you noticed two thugs from each opposing side came to the middle of the parking lot to speak, before ultimately calling for war.

You had guessed Baji was associated with some kind of shady pass time, as he did have a very intimidating presence, and he often boasting about his excellent skill of martial arts. To think he would put it to use like this was… <3

As you stood watching the scene unfold, you took a moment to consider if your lack of shock at the situation playing out should concern you or not. Were you more desensitized, or impressed….

You were taken out of that train of thought when a deafening roar almost shook the ground you stood. A scream that loud could only be made by a rage filled monster. And rage filled it was, Baji Keisuke’s patience had finally ran out, unable to swallow back that guilt he pushed so far deep. All the vulnerable sides of him he accidentally let you see—- revealed in those rare moment of gentle hand touches and kindness you gave him unconditionally.

He knew Your gentle hands would become soiled before long. His bruised knuckles would start to stain you.

Forgetting about you was for your best interest.

His hair was uncontainable, hair-tie snapping before the fight had even begun. His eyes were piercing and sharp, ferocious and merciless to anyone who met his gaze.

He stood out like a wild beast amongst helpless prey.

Baji wielded a wicked grin that took up most of his face, screaming out insult after curse as his fists broke skin and bone alike. He was ferocious. Unstoppable and feral.

It was normal to run in fear of such a creature, yet you….<33

“Hey hey hey! What’ve we got here?” Sing-songed a delinquent who did not share the same black and gold uniform your classmates had on.

No one noticed this interaction at first, but your shrill shriek seemed to alert others tenfold. It was an unspoken rule that if there’s a girl’s scream, you intervene.

“I don’t recognize that school uniform, what’re you spyin around us for huh? Want in on the action?” The delinquent held you in place between your collar and the wall behind you, his grip harsh enough to rip some of the cloth.

Any do-gooder would easily have stepped in to put the sicko in his place, for pulling an uninvolved girl into a beef like this one, but no one dared move.

Because there was a sick, cold, heavy air that swept the parking lot. A nauseous feeling that made any man back down. Everyone felt it. And Toman knew damn well to get the Hell out of Baji Keisuke’s way.

Chifuyu let out a yelp when he noticed he had pretty much made you a hostage, putting you directly in harms way. But you wanted to see who the real Baji Keisuke was so badly, and Chifuyu didn’t mean for it to turn out like this— and no amount of reason would spare Chifuyu from the beating he was sure to receive once Baji learned the truth of how you ended up here in the first place.

But with having no further context, Baji’s intense rage was fueled with worry for your safety. ‘Why the hell is she here? Did she follow me or something?’

Baji spat, dead focus not leaving your squirming form. The way you squirmed in the offenders grasp seriously made him feel like puking. The way your eyes desperately darted around to look for him broke his heart. So helpless, so scared… Any bit of restraint he had left suddenly no longer existed.

“Baldys got a death wish, eeeehhhhh?!” Baji graveled his most intimidating roar as the distance became shorter and shorter, reaching your side at sound-breaking speed.

Before the bold delinquent who had a hold on you could react, he was already being slung backwards. Gravity corrected you quickly, and you hissed when your knees met the ground below. Baji’s attention was solely focused on killing this stupid sack of shit.

Chifuyu came following after, helping you to your feet as you stare in awe. “C-come on, let’s get you somewhere safe-“ he tried guiding you toward an escape route, but you refused.

You remained rooted in place while you watched Baji wail on the poor guy. The force of his punches shook the offending delinquent’s whole body, head to toe. Punch after punch, his fists grew bloody.

Minutes passed, and the man before you had long lost consciousness. Still, Baji’s assault remained uninterrupted.

Surely he had lost feeling in his hands by now. The skin on his fist couldn’t even be identified as skin anymore, painted and dripping red.

You knew that when that block head was lost in thought, like he was now, you could never get his attention with words.

When you would study together, and he’d all but forgotten your presence, the only way to get his attention…

So, unfaltering, you laid one hand along the back of the blood stained monster protecting you. Without fear, you gently wrapped your other hand around his wrist. Immediately he froze.

The night was silent. Your lone whisper broke the tense atmosphere. “Baji,”

Finally getting his attention, Baji slowly turned his head to look you face to face. Eye to eye.. as though it really was for the first time.

Damn the ‘love at first sight‘ troupe. Baji called bullshit since preschool. But there was no better way to describe the unfamiliar feeling growing in his stomach.

Your expression was angel-like. Smile as kind as the heavens, moved with emotion. Looking him in the eye for the first time was also sending you into a vulnerable state. It was so pleasant feeling.

Baji couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, couldn’t think. You were literally stealing the breath out of his lungs.

Were you getting closer? Why did it feel like one side of his face was being cradled? Wait, were you—-

Your body moved on it’s own, unable to restrain yourself, until the very last second.

Baji could feel the gentle sigh of your breath against his lips, any sudden movement could mean life or death. He took a sharp breath in, but by the time he gathered his bearings, you weren’t kissing him like he thought you might, not on the lips at least.

Your lips gently rested on his sweat and blood stained forehead.

You parted, created distance shyly, and tried to glare at Baji. But it was impossible.

“I like the way you fight. Give it your all, Keisuke. You have to do well on tomorrow’s test, s-so try not to hit your head too much.” You quickly lectured, softly punching his shoulder, before awkwardly backing away. Grossly aware of your surroundings now, having All eyes on you was not a good feeling.

“U-um, anyway..! I’ll be rooting for you, s-so don’t lose!”

Baji hated thinking about his future.

But god. Damn.

He did know one thing.

You would be the death of him.

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everythingiaskfor · 21 days

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his scent

kuroo tetsuro x reader warnings: mentions of alcohol

kuroo as your coworker who always smells like freshly ironed clothes. it doesn’t matter if it’s early in the morning and he just came into the building greeting everyone with an enthusiastic smile even though it’s monday or if it’s almost 6pm and you’re leaving the office. the smell of freshly ironed clothes invades the elevator and you can almost feel the heat (maybe it’s because of how close you are to him so everyone could fit in the box, who could tell?). all you know it’s that whenever your nose picks up that scent, his scent, your stomach gets fuzzy and your cheeks get red, expecting to see him and his breathtaking smile, and hoping he will stop by your desk to talk to you for a bit for no reason and about nothing specific.

kuroo as that friend who faintly smells like a mix of cologne and alcohol, usually caused by the weekends you go out to bars together, as a friend group, and you spend so much time sitting at the table talking about everything and laughing. it’s in one of these nights that almost turn into day that you meet his old friends from school and his volleyball days, and you see him talk to someone in a flirtatious way and don’t really talk anymore for the night, and the smell of the expensive musk mixed with the strong smell of the shots is always present. an aroma that slowly becomes his. an aroma that is there when he had a bit too much to drink and lays on your lap when everyone’s watching, but he doesn’t care. the aroma that will be forever connected to the sight of his sharp eyes staring at your soul, while you try to pretend you’re not noticing (for sure he can’t tell how you can’t concentrate on the conversation and how the heat of your body is increasing every second, right?), and you finally look back at him, ask him what’s up and he just shrugs, not even blinking, and you can feel your heart fall down, but not falling apart.

tetsuro as your boyfriend who smells like a floral fabric softener. the fragrance that invades your senses as you wake up beside him, and the sheets and the shirt of his that you stole for the night all smell the same. the fragrance you relate to lazy weekends you spend on your couch watching some tv show. the same fragrance you bury your face into while hugging him from behind when he tried to cook you something and almost burnt the house down. the fragrance that comforts you, that makes you feel safe and loved (because that’s the reality, and he makes sure you know it). the fragrance you make sure to keep around even when he’s away for work, through some sort of clothing article that he’ll take a couple weeks to miss, perfectly timed so you can’t take something else. a perfectly familiar fragrance, that is his, and even if you use the same brand of product, it’s not the same, because his touch is what makes it special.

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 8 months

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"how do you kiss hard?" - ike eveland 2023

mike…

i swear i’m trying to do my requests i swear i swear it’s just that i keep hearing livers say things and that’s what gets the neurons firing for some reason

this entire fic is a joke if you know you know. and brother there's a lot to know

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship(?), ike is in a pretentious mood but dw about it, it’s literally just a page of making out with ike lol

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Between two pages of his book, Ike snorts. His mouth curves up, barely visible between the paper, amusement before his expertise can kick in. When it does, his brows knit together while that pitying smile remains.

A hand rubs along the back of his shoulder while you look over it. “Someone’s being pretentious.”

Ike stifles his laugh this time. It sounds like he’s sniffing. “Can you blame me? This author has such a good mystery plot going on, but they write so many romance clichés it’s not even funny.” He scoots closer to you on the couch and points out the words. “Look at that. How do you ‘kiss hard?’”

“What, you haven’t kissed hard before?” You joke.

“Hard no.”

“Naaah, you’ve definitely done it before.”

“Really, now.” The book collapses on itself with Ike’s thumb marking his page. As he slides a bookmark in, he reflects your coy energy right back at you. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, sure.” You slide next to him on the couch. Feeling a monologue coming along, Ike sets the book aside to give you his undivided attention, if not a little pompous. “A light kiss would be like this.”

It’s over as soon as it starts. You brush Ike’s messy, blue-toned hair out of the way so you can peck him on the forehead. The print of your lip eases the quirk out of his eyebrow.

He flashes a smile, still trying to keep that pompous air up. “I know what a light kiss is.”

“Great job, honey. Proud of you.” His hair falls back into place as your hand trails down his face. It oscillates between the jawline and the sweetened apple of his cheeks, sprouting blossoms as your thumb presses along his skin. “Now here’s what a hard kiss feels like.”

‘Whiplash’ would be an apt name for it. The peck—the light kiss—it was tender, and in a way, how you took to Ike next was tender as well, encompassing and boiling along, unable to hold yourself back from pouring over. Ike squeaks. A tiny whimper under your churning, lost in the steam. He runs raw under your lips as you gnaw and writhe under his skin. An uncontrollable heat sprouts from your mouth, the breath of a dragon, along trails of gasoline and wet lips that set him alight.

He whimpers again. The pressure is almost too much to bear, but how you clutch onto his shirt draws him back to your warmth. The fabric curls under your grasp, threatening to wrinkle, tugging on his shirt and exposing where his neck connects to collar and chest. Ike bends apart when you take the base of his neck and reach for his jaw again, just as greedy for reciprocation as you are for that uncovered skin. It must taste delicious underneath your lips. You want to see him jolt at the pressure and the teeth marks under a bite, turning an angry, lovey red that begs for more before he does.

But that’s a kiss for later, and this is a hard kiss now, and if it wasn’t obvious before this isn’t his first. He clings to you by your hips, the rise and fall of his fishnets distinct under his hands, growing rougher as the seconds go by. If the mesh leaves marks on his palms, then they would match the smattering against his lips. You attack fiendishly. There is no tact nor methodology. Only the urge to take him apart, and leave him clueless as you meld along his circuits. Quick bites and glazed tongues pry him open with embers weaved between.

Even with your warning the hard kiss took him by surprise, and now he recovers. What were once whimpers are now hidden moans between the open-mouthed kiss, but if you could hear them between the ruffling fabric and craving hands, that’s lost to you. It’s the lingering vibration deep in his throat instead that drives you to take him in further. You line his mouth with nips and prods, guiding him to lace his tongue through the corners, a needle to fabric stitched tight.

Thready hands drag out from the curve of your hips and soak in the shelf along the small of your back. The tangle of limbs knit closer, then meet, then tumble out along the cushions of the couch. It doesn’t interrupt even as you readjust over him, sewing your body on top while he lays pinned underneath you, fluffy hair like a halo on the cushions of the couch with shivers down his spine and a slithering, satisfied sigh that shakes as he keeps you connected to his lips.

Your shirt hem brushes along Ike’s knuckles as he squirms, slotting himself against you, stroking and savoring skin on skin. The rest of the shirt runs between his fingers as they splay out on your back. They crawl upward even as Ike’s eyes are sewn shut, committing each inch of skin and spine to memory while you’re all he can sense.

With your touch spread across him, Ike looks like ruin. You let go, but the collar of his shirt remains lopsided, and the way his collarbone connects to rounded shoulders steals your breath away. His hair is even messier than usual now that your fingers tousle through it.

Your tongue nurses over what syrupy pain you left behind. His lips are rubied under your glistening care. You bring him back to health with a thumb rubbing along his ear and the rest of your hand combing through ashy brown hair, candy on your tongue so addictive one hit couldn’t possibly be enough.

The seams come apart. Blearily, Ike’s eyes open; two strikes of green and gold shine under long, half-lidded lashes. With your mouths still pressed against each other, he’s so close you can see the subtle streaks of color in his eyes. The traces of disbelief and delight unrestrained.

In a final move, you purse your lips for one last taste. There’s a tiny smack in the air as your mouth separates from his.

Moving away is like swimming underwater. You push yourself up and get a good look at Ike as you come down, still pinned down with your arms on either side of his shoulders. His clothes are disheveled.

The air is thick, not with tension, but rather the weight of the hard kiss. You can still feel your chest rise and small pants from Ike as the both of you regain your breath. “Get it now?” You ask.

“Reader,” he says, out of breath but firm. “You know we’ve done this before.”

A smirk spreads across your face. “So I jogged your memory?”

“It never needed jogging in the first place.” He’s been pink this entire time, but now it seems like he’s shying away after all the heated kisses. He buries his head into a cushion that muffles his voice. “You know it was a style issue, right?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not like I didn’t know. It was just worded awkwardly in the book.”

The dots slowly connect. “The book. So…”

“‘Kissed really hard’,” Ike quotes. He laughs, and his uneven breaths make him sound all the more spellbound. “The author could’ve used so many better descriptors and settled on ‘kissed really hard’. That’s such a weak move.”

“Yeah.”

“Passionate, sensual, helpless.” He ticks off as he raises his head. He kisses your neck, neither light nor hard. Something new to explore. “Debauched.”

“Uh-huh…” Your mind goes blank. There’s no reason for him to kiss you like this. It’s all on his own terms, because he wants to, and being the center of his attention now just because has you going woozy. You may have bitten off more than you can chew.

“Poor guy. Doesn’t have a clue on what we have.” Another pulse along your neck. Ike thumbs along your nape, a soothing gesture under short kisses growing rougher. He quotes the rest of the passage he showed you. “'Amy kissed Sonic so hard that he was thinking “Let's have sex” but he didn't say it because the teacher would show up by the time they started to have sex in History class. Sonic kissed back really hard and it was sexy to everyone.' I mean, seriously? His gay balls are the least of his problems.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi ✧. ┊lol sonic high school reference

#ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland fluff #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #4402 writes #out of everything i've written this is truly the velocipastor of my fics #also sorry i have a pattern of posting whenever it's a bad time for the fandom?#all i can say is #once again this is what mysta would've wanted

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