timeskip!iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

w/c: 1k words ,, wait! series

the apartment was still humming with the low, warm chaos of a party that refused to die down. low-fi beats bled through a portable speaker near the TV, mixed with the muted clinking of beer bottles, distant laughter from the balcony, and someone’s aggressively terrible attempt at a fighting game in the corner.

iwaizumi had been back in japan for less than forty-eight hours, fresh off a plane from the states. his hair was slightly longer, his shoulders impossibly broader, and the jetlag was clearly fighting a losing battle against the sheer number of old friends packed into his living room.

yet, somehow, the entire night had felt like a slow-burn fanfiction between just the two of you.

THEY ASK YOU TO SLEEP OVER | pt. 1

★ Atsumu Miya — “C’mon, ya know you sleep better next to me.”

It started with a dumb meme.

1:04 AM.

Atsumu’s name lighting up your phone, sending you a picture of a cat face-planted into a pillow with the caption “Me thinkin’ about you rn.”

You sent back an eye-roll emoji.

Typical Tsumu.

But then—

Tsumu [1:06 AM]: “C’mon, ya know you sleep better next to me.”

You: “That’s a very bold assumption.”

Tsumu [1:07 AM]: “Nah, that’s facts, pretty thing. Don’t make me come get ya.”

your hips are still trembling from your release, soft cries leaving your lips as you start to come down from your high.

suga’s panting heavily, eyes closed as he cums, and he’s already starting to pull out, letting his warmth leak out of you around his length and you’re whining, half-baked protests.

you’re babbling, half sense and half bliss, but he gets the general idea of it, easing his length back into you and stuffing you full. 

your hips roll against his at that, trying to suck him back in. it’s no longer heated or sultry, simply your body seeking out his touch and hoping to keep his warmth inside you for a little longer.

he presses his palm flat against the bulge of his cock in your belly, letting you melt into the mattress contentedly.

you’re a mess, tears still drying against your cheeks, pretty lashes fluttering weakly as you try to meet his gaze. you whimper softly as he reaches up, fingers grazing your cheek. he cups your face gently, a fond smile gracing his lips as he admires the mess he’s made of you.

“shh, it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, “i’m not going anywhere.”

you seem satisfied by that, settling into the bed, and eyes slipping shut.

he stays there, keeping his warmth contained inside you and letting you dissolve into a puddle against the sheets, affection gurgling in his heart.

when he thinks you’re asleep he starts to pull out slowly, but you let out another whine, and wrap a leg around his waist feebly, caging him in.

he lets out a quiet laugh, letting you keep his softening length inside, stuffing you full so that you can feel his love inside and out <3

as the only two single friends, you and osamu agree to share a bed in the vacation house. it keeps one or you off of the floor or couch and makes it so you can split the cost of a room, so whats the big deal? theres never been any sexual energy between you!

until you wake up the first morning, half on top of him. your head rests on his bare chest, cheek smushed into his soft pec. he smells good, like sleep and man, and it distracts you for moment before you realize his arm is wrapped around you and his hand is on your ass.

not only on your ass. no, his fingertips are pressing against the cleft of your bare pussy because your panties have been discard sometime in the night.

your own hand isnt much better; it's shoved down the front of his boxers, fingers closed around a rather impressive cock, one thats soaked the precum and already half hard

freak on a leash!

synopsis: after a curse accidentally turns the most feared sorcerer killer into a stray dog, it looks like toji is taking shelter with the first sorry person that takes him in...which happens to be a completely clueless you!

pairing: dog!toji x f!reader

wc: 11.1k

content: mdni, fluff + angst, smut, unprotected piv sex (after he's human again okay lmfao), lots of pining and yearning, toji is literally a dog for a while lol + so pathetic about it, deep in denial of feelings, toji being a dick until he realizes he likes being taken care of, pet care, oblivious reader, nanami cameo, jealous toji, protective toji, okay he's actual just feral, collars and leashes, kissing, fingering, doggy style, pulling out, toji falling in love

a/n: toji art by @to00fu ! this was a commission for the extraordinarily lovely @chewiebee !!

Toji was having the worst fucking week of his life. 

He had no interest in fighting curses. Why would he? He wasn’t getting paid to play sorcerer. All he cared about was taking out his current target, hungover as he squinted through bloodshot eyes at the scene of yet another pathetic fight unfolding in front of him. 

So how the fuck had putting a bullet in some moron’s head ended in him getting caught off-gaurd by the thing he’d been chasing? 

He didn’t know what it was classified as, what it was even supposed to be, but that was the definition of crossfire. Wrong place, wrong time, and now he was a mutt. 

Truthfully, Toji had been called that (and worse) a time or two. Treated like a dirty dog with fleas. 

He never realized how fucking itchy actually having fleas was. 

Maybe this was karma. Retribution for all the awful deeds he'd done and justified over the years. 

A pathetic curse had transformed him from a force to be reckoned with to a filthy stray. Trading in scarred skin for shaggy fur, calloused hands for paws, even growing a goddamn tail. 

He’d gone a day or two without eating before, sustaining on ramen or whatever else he could scrounge up – but now he knew what starvation was like when he was faced with the realization he’d be eating out of fucking trash cans for the time being. Clumsily swiping at the metal lids or sticking his wet nose up as he sniffed around back alleys for scraps. Getting shooed away from restaurants, ignored by pedestrians, narrowly avoiding nosey people who’d probably take him to some animal shelter while he waited for this stupid curse to wear off. 

Except, it didn’t. 

Each day, he woke up with his slobbery head resting on his furry limbs. 

The second week somehow managed to be worse. 

Hunger gnawing at him, desperation and starving twisting together until he felt feral. Shiu was probably pissed off and pacing somewhere, surely thinking Toji was off on some bender instead of bent forward on his haunches, attempting to take a nap outside of some nice office building – the kind with the type of employees who’d toss him leftovers if they saw him sitting there sadly. 

There weren’t many things Toji was good at that weren't phsyical. 

But knowing what kind of woman would take him in was one of them. It wasn’t just about a pretty face or an expensive purse. It was that little gleam in their eyes, the faint hint of pity that undercut their attraction. Whether or not they had a wedding band, or wore designer brands, if they were searching for salvation in sex with some scumbag or just the thrill of doing someone they shouldn’t, those all came second. 

There had to be sympathy, even if it was misplaced – the sort that made them feel like they had to offer him a bed and blankets to bury himself in, hot meals and clean clothes. A place to shower and scrape his life together between contracts. 

Toji was trying for a few days – attempting to snag the attention from a do-gooder or divorcee to get himself somewhere to sleep. 

He almost gave up. Until you came along. 

there’s a lot of things you find hot about toji.

obviously, the man is just… hot. like, ridiculously hot.

6’2, with broad shoulders that somehow make every t-shirt he wears look like it was tailored just for him and a body that any guy your age would probably kill to have. a presence that makes people notice when he walks into a room without even trying.

he was simply intimidatingly sexy.

but somehow, the things that you find most appealing about him are his grey hairs.

yeah, it’s weird — maybe not the most obvious thing anyone would call sexy, but to you? it’s like the best thing ever.

it’s not even in a kinky way, it’s just… it reminds you that he’s lived. that he’s been through shit, he’s fought and he’s still standing there looking like he could crush you with one hand if he wanted to.

and even though you sometimes make fun of him for it, like when he rants about how old he’s getting and you call him a “grandpa,” you can’t help but love it.

it’s just…if you get it, you get it.

simple as that.

“you’re not even 25 and i’m out here looking like i could be in an old folks’ home.” he complains one night, rubbing the side of his head where a stubborn streak of grey is sticking up.

without thinking, you climb onto his lap, straddling him, letting your hands rest lightly on his shoulders as you look down at him. his hands go to your hips, holding you steady and you smirk at how flustered he looks.

you try to bite back a laugh (failing miserably) because, god, does he really think this is a bad thing?

“yeah yeah, keep laughin’. give it a month and i’ll be a full silver fox or some shit,” he adds.

you reach up, running a finger through the silvery strands peeking out from his dark hair. “you do realize this is like… the sexiest thing ever, right?” you say, your voice ridiculously soft. “you’re still hot. they make you look experienced.”

he scoffs, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “experienced? sounds like a polite way of sayin’ old as fuck. hell, i look like your fuckin’ dad.”

“old as fuck is an understatement,” you say, trying to make fun of him, leaning in so your nose almost touches his jawline.

“watch it, brat,” he says, smacking your ass.

“ow! ouch! okay s’rry!” you huff at him. “but seriously, that’s literally what makes you hotter. i don’t know why, but it’s just… i can’t even explain it. it’s not just the hair. it’s every little thing about you. i don’t know, i feel like i could stare at you forever and never get tired. but yeah, the grey just… makes it better, i guess.”

he shakes his head, a smirk finally breaking through. “you’re too young to be sayin’ shit like that. i’m supposed to be intimidating, not makin’ you blush.”

“nope, you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do,” you whisper, stepping closer on his lap, letting your hands rest lightly on his chest. “i like knowing that you’ve been around, that you’ve seen stuff i can’t even imagine. that you’re not just some guy my age pretending to know things. you’ve got history and it’s hot. your hair… it’s just one of so many ways to show it.”

he lets out a low laugh, clearly pleased with how this was going and you can’t resist brushing your thumb across his jawline, letting him feel how much you mean it.

“so… grey hair, huh?” he mutters, almost to himself. “dirty girl. you like seein’ ‘em cause they remind you how much older i am than you?”

and then you shift slightly, moving just a little against him, feeling the hard bulge pressing against you. his grip on your hips tightens immediately, his low growl sending shivers down your spine.

“yeah,” you say, smiling up at him. “so don’t even think about covering it up.”

— fem!reader x Boyfriend!toji who’s not used to being treated gently :( 

toji fushiguro is not a man who is used to soft things.

his world has always been hard edges and sharp corners. calloused hands and cold transactions. women who wanted him for a night, a thrill, a story to tell their friends. men who wanted him dead. money that came and went like water through his fingers.

he doesn't do gentle.

gentle is for people who can afford it. people who haven't had to fight for every goddamn thing they've ever had. people who didn't grow up learning that the only person you can count on is yourself.

so when you come into his life, all warm smiles and careful hands and eyes that look at him like he's something precious instead of something dangerous, he doesn't know what to do with it.

at first, he thinks it's a joke.

you're so.. soft.  you barely come up to his chest, and when you stand next to him, you have to tilt your head all the way back just to meet his eyes. he could probably pick you up with one hand. hell, he has picked you up with one hand, that first time you'd asked him to reach something on the top shelf in your kitchen, and you'd squeaked and he'd almost dropped you out of sheer surprise.

but it's not your size that throws him. it's the way you touch him.

the first time you'd reached up to brush a piece of lint off his shoulder, your fingers had lingered. just for a second. just long enough for him to feel the warmth of them through his shirt.

he'd frozen.

nobody touches toji fushiguro like that. nobody touches him at all, really, unless it's to hurt him. and even then, those touches are fast and brutal and over before he can process them.

but yours… yours are slow. deliberate. soft.

"you had something on your shirt," you'd said, like it was nothing. like you hadn't just turned his entire world on its axis with three fingertips and a gentle brush.

he'd grunted. shrugged you off. told himself it was nothing.

it wasn't nothing.

it keeps happening.

you'll be sitting on the couch together, watching some stupid movie you picked out, and you'll lean into him. just a little. your shoulder pressing against his arm. your head tilting until it's resting against his bicep.

he goes rigid every single time.

"the hell are you doing?" he'll ask, voice rougher than he means it to be.

and you'll just look up at him with those big, soft eyes and say, "cuddling?"

like it's obvious. like it's the most natural thing in the world. it's not natural to him. nothing about this is natural. but he doesn't push you away.

he tells himself it's because you're warm and it's cold in your apartment and he's just conserving body heat. he tells himself it's because you'd probably cry if he moved and he doesn't want to deal with that. he tells himself a lot of things.

he doesn't tell himself the truth.

the truth is that your touch feels like coming up for air after drowning his whole life. and that terrifies him.

"you don't have to do that," he says one night, after you've spent ten minutes running your fingers through his hair while he pretends to watch the game.

"do what?"

"that." he gestures vaguely at his own head. "petting me like i'm some kind of dog."

you just smile. that soft, patient smile that makes his chest feel tight. "i know i don't have to. i want to."

"why?"

it comes out sharper than he intends. more demanding. he sees the flicker of surprise in your eyes, the way your hand stills for just a moment.

and then you're shifting, turning to face him fully, and your hand is still in his hair but now you're stroking his cheek with the other one and he can't breathe.

"because you deserve to be touched gently," you say. "because everyone deserves that. because–" you hesitate, and he watches your throat move as you swallow. "because i love you. and this is how i show it."

he doesn't know what to say to that.

he's never known what to say to any of this.

so he does what he always does when he doesn't know how to handle something. he pulls away. stands up. mutters something about needing a smoke.

he doesn't smoke.

you don't call him on it.

—

it takes months.

months of you reaching for his hand across the table. months of you pressing kisses to his knuckles, his shoulder, the corner of his mouth. months of you wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and just holding him while he stands there like a statue, not knowing what to do with his hands, not knowing what to do with any of it.

he flinches less now. that's something.

the first time you'd hugged him from behind, he'd almost elbowed you in the face. muscle memory. instinct. you'd just laughed and said, "good reflexes," and hugged him tighter, and he'd felt something crack open in his chest that he's not sure he'll ever be able to close again.

you're so patient with him.

that's the worst part. the best part. he can't decide.

you never get frustrated when he tenses up. you never pull away when he goes stiff and silent. you just wait. just keep being gentle. keep being soft. keep being there.

"you know you can touch me back, right?" you ask one night. you're curled up against his side on the couch, your hand resting on his chest, and his arm is around your shoulders but he's not really holding you. his hand is just… there. limp. uncertain.

he doesn't answer.

you tilt your head up to look at him. "toji?"

"i don't know how."

the words come out before he can stop them. rough. raw. honest in a way he never lets himself be.

your expression softens. you shift, turning so you're facing him, and you take his free hand in both of yours.

"that's okay," you say. "we can figure it out together."

he doesn't know what that means. doesn't know how you can be so calm about this, so accepting, when he can barely look at you without feeling like he's going to shatter.

but you show him.

you guide his hand to your waist. show him how to curl his fingers against the curve of you. show him how to pull you closer instead of just letting you be there.

"like this," you murmur, pressing his palm flat against your back. "see? you're holding me."

he is. he's holding you.

and you're looking at him like he just hung the moon.

"good," you whisper. "that's good, toji. you're doing so good."

he has to look away. has to blink hard and fast and pretend there's something interesting on the TV because if he keeps looking at you, he's going to do something stupid. like cry. or tell you he loves you so much it scares him. or both.

your thumb strokes over his knuckles.

"it's okay," you say. "i've got you."

and for the first time in his life, he believes it.

—

it's another few weeks before he asks for it.

he doesn't mean to. it just… happens.

he's had a bad day. a really bad day. one of those days where everything goes wrong and he's reminded, over and over, that the world doesn't care about him. that it never has. that it never will.

he comes home expecting to be alone. expecting to brood in the dark and drink himself into numbness and wake up tomorrow pretending none of it happened.

but you're there.

of course you're there. you're always there.

you take one look at his face and don't ask questions. don't demand explanations. you just open your arms and say, "come here."

and he does.

he crosses the room in three steps and folds himself into you, and it's ridiculous because he's so much bigger than you, so much heavier, and you shouldn't be able to hold him like this but somehow you do. somehow your arms around his waist and your face pressed against his chest make him feel like he's the one being sheltered.

your hand comes up to the back of his head. your fingers card through his hair. soft. gentle. the way you always touch him.

"i've got you," you murmur.

he doesn't cry. he doesn't.

but his arms tighten around you, and his face presses into your hair, and he breathes you in until the sharp edges of the day start to blur.

"can you.." his voice cracks. he clears his throat. tries again. "can you keep doing that? the hair thing."

he feels you smile against his chest.

"yeah," you say softly. "yeah, i can do that."

so you do.

you stand there in the middle of the living room for what feels like hours, just holding each other, your fingers moving through his hair in slow, soothing strokes. and when you finally pull back to look at him, your eyes are so full of love it makes his chest ache.

"see?" you whisper, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "you're learning."

he turns his head, presses a kiss to your palm.

"you're teaching me," he says.

and your smile. god, your smile. it's worth every uncomfortable moment. every flinch. every time he pulled away because he didn't know how to stay.

—

after that, it's like a dam breaks.

he doesn't ask every time. not at first. but he starts reaching for you more. starts initiating contact instead of just accepting it. starts curling around you at night and pulling you closer instead of lying stiff and still and pretending he doesn't notice how good you feel against him.

and you're always there. always ready. always soft and warm and his.

"toji," you say one morning, half-asleep and burrowed against his chest. "you're being cuddly."

he grunts.

"you never used to be cuddly."

he grunts again.

you tilt your head up, grinning at him. "i think you like it."

"i think you talk too much."

"you love it."

he doesn't answer. just pulls you tighter and presses his face into your hair.

but you feel the kiss he presses to the top of your head. feel the way his arms squeeze you just a little closer.

you smile against his skin.

"i love you too," you whisper.

and toji fushiguro, who has never been soft a day in his life, who has never let himself want or need or have anything gentle, holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

because to him, you are.

—

it's a tuesday night when he finally says it.

not i love you, he's been saying that for months now, even if it still comes out rough and reluctant sometimes, even if he still looks away when he says it like he can't quite believe you'll say it back.

no. it's something else.

you're on the couch. you're reading, and he's got his head in your lap, and your fingers are in his hair, and it's so mundane and domestic and normal that it makes his chest tight in a way he's still not used to.

"hey," he says.

"hm?"

he's quiet for a long moment. long enough that you look down at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"toji?"

"i like this."

the words are quiet. rough. like they cost him something to say.

you smile. keep running your fingers through his hair. "i know, baby."

"no, i mean.." he frowns, searching for words. "i like this. you. us." he gestures vaguely at the two of you, at your hand in his hair, at the soft light and the quiet night and the way his whole body feels relaxed for the first time in… maybe ever. "i didn't think i'd ever have this."

your hand stills.

he feels you looking at him, and he keeps his eyes closed because he's not sure he can handle whatever's in your face right now.

"toji…"

"i'm glad i was wrong."

your fingers resume their movement. softer now. more deliberate.

"i'm glad you were wrong too," you whisper. "i'm so glad."

he opens his eyes. looks up at you. and you're crying. not a lot, just a little, just a few tears slipping down your cheeks, and you're smiling at him like he's the answer to every prayer you never knew you had.

"don't cry," he says, reaching up to wipe your tears with his thumb. "i didn't mean to make you cry."

"happy tears," you promise, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. "they're happy tears."

he doesn't know what to do with that. doesn't know what to do with any of this.

but you're looking at him like that, and your hand is in his hair, and you're warm and soft and his, and for the first time in his life, toji fushiguro thinks maybe, just maybe, he deserves something good.

so he pulls you down to him. kisses you slow and sweet and gentle in a way he never thought he could be.

"thank you," he murmurs against your lips.

"for what?"

"for being patient. for.." he hesitates. swallows. "for teaching me how to be soft."

you smile. that smile. the one that's just for him.

"thank you for letting me."

and when you settle back against him, your fingers finding their way back to his hair, he closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

lets himself be soft.

lets himself be loved. lets himself be yours.

“I can hear you breathing and it’s grating,” you grumble at him. “Can you stop?" You eye him up and down, scowling. “And did you have to wear that shirt?”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound much like a question. More a, what’s she going on about now?

Groaning, you enunciate as though you’re talking to a child, “You have much nicer shirts.”

“I like this shirt, don’t be a dick.”

“Fuck you.”

It takes about two metres of stomping down the street for you to notice he’s not walking beside you anymore. You turn around, glaring. He’s sitting on a short ledge, arms crossed and looking serene as he pretends he doesn’t have an angry girlfriend marching back towards him. “Why are you sitting down? Let’s go, you big, lazy dumm—”

Toji gives you a look. It’s not a look of anger or scolding, merely one that has you biting your tongue. He grips your hips, keeping you in place. You fight against it, not wanting him to touch you but he’s much stronger and you eventually get too tired to fight any more. “Take a deep breath. Count to ten. Mutter some mantra. I don’t give a fuck. Just do whatever you need to do to get your head on straight,” he says. “I’ll wait.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

“No,” Toji insists. “You’re not fine. You’re tired, hungry, overwhelmed by the heat, the crowds, the noises, or whatever the fuck else. I get it. It’s fine. What’s not fine is snapping at me — you know damn well you can’t hear me breathing over the sound of traffic. And you like this shirt. You got me this shirt. You’re probably just lashing out because your social battery’s empty.”

A frown graces your features. “How do you know about that?”

“You talk about it. And I listen. That such a crazy thought to you?”

Looking up at you so earnestly, so patiently, the mean retort climbing up your throat dies. With a sigh, your whole body softens in his hold. You cradle his face, brushing the scruff on his jaw. “I’m being a bitch, aren’t I? I’m sorry, Toji. Ugh, I’m just so hungry, and my feet are sore, and I feel disgusting. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

He stands, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, uncaring of the people walking by and no doubt judging your PDA. He mutters, “I’m a grown man; I can take it. Just let me know why you’re really upset. Then I can do something about it. You know I can’t stand feeling helpless and shit. Makes my chest all itchy.” 

“You’re so wise,” you say, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. 

Toji’s scarred ones mirror yours. 

“Have to be, don’t I? How else will I survive your grumpy ass?”

Yeah, I'm not always horny. Sometimes I'm a big softie...

003 the grudge

✧ wc: 4.1k

✧ warnings/content: itoshi rin x reader, no gendered pronouns used but lease lmk if I missed any! sfw, angst to fluff (hopeful ending), arguments and lots of swearing. another fic where I project bc of messed up things my old romantic partners have said to me, hope y'all enjoy!

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

.˚𓈒𔘓 ݁･˖ 𝑯𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑫𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 ֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָ֢֢֢֢֢֢֢୨ৎֶָ֢ 𝓕.𝑻𝑶𝑱𝑰 ݁･𔘓𓈒˚.

∙ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 · Toji can't get enough of his pregnant wife.

𝓒𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 · ꒰ 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⋮⋮ 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒋𝒊 ⋮⋮ mentions of pregnancy + childbirth ⋮⋮ reader dealing with post-partum ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ toji & his 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌 ⋮⋮ lactating ⋮⋮ breast worship ⋮⋮ 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕!milk drinking ⋮⋮ c-pied꒱

The baby had finally fallen asleep.

You could hear the soft even breaths from the crib across the room. Six weeks postpartum now, and the nights still felt fragile, but tonight, the house was quiet. Dinner dishes sat washed in the dishwrack. The soft glow from the lamp on the nightstand was the only light left on.

Toji had been touching you all evening.

It started at the table. His hand on your thigh under the cloth, thumb stroking slow circles while you ate. Then after, when you stood to clear the plates, he came up behind you and wrapped both arms around your middle, face buried in the curve of your neck.

“Pretty,” he murmured against your skin. “Missed this.”

You leaned back into him. His body, solid and warm. The hard line of his cock pressed against the small of your back almost immediately.

SAY WHAT I'M DYING TO HEAR — one shot

SYNOPSIS: amidst it all, you can’t help but feel like something has been crossed, a reluctant confession forced from your quivering lips as he lapped your humiliation up without revealing his own hand. people say all kinds of shit during sex, right? shit they don’t mean, garbled nonsense as they lose themselves in the moment. it doesn’t have to be anything more than that. but it was real for you. you had meant it. it’s left you feeling exposed, and you hate it.

CONTENT: suguru geto/reader, jealousy, rough sex, degradation, some light anal play, friends with benefits, porn with a bit of plot, both are bad at feelings, confrontations happen, happy ending i repeat HAPPY ENDING (4.3k words)

A/N: this is the part 2 of dumb love, i love being stupid, so i highly recommend clicking that and giving it a read first! i think it would make this part more satisfying and provide more context imo, but it can also be read as a standalone story if you’d like.

geto suguru isn’t a jealous man. 

at least that’s what he thinks — he doesn’t do relationships, and because of that he’s really never had a reason to be jealous. 

he thinks he isn’t a jealous man, until he finds himself in a shitty bar in shibuya, eyes pinned on the man who has his hand on your knee and a sleazy smile on his face. he’s sitting way too close to you, but instead of looking uncomfortable like you should, you’re covering your mouth and giggling, eyes forming half-moons as you laugh at his jokes. 

the dress you have on is too tight and too short, and suguru glares from across the bar as you flirt shamelessly with the unknown man, unable to focus on a single thing his friends are saying. he grits his teeth when the man leans in to whisper something in your ear, and you smile and nod in response to whatever the fuck he said.

he watches with narrowed eyes as you both stand up, the man now leading you by hand to the exit — an uncharted, ugly feeling rising in his chest.

he has to suppress the alcohol-fuelled urge to walk over and fight the asshole himself, but shoko has started to catch on and is staring at him with furrowed brows and a look on her face that reads, don’t be fucking crazy, so he takes another swig of his drink and settles back into his seat.

he throws her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, to which is received by a scoff and a light shake of her head.

okay, so he might be a jealous man.

he’s also not a particularly communicative man, so he prefers to express his feelings by pushing your face down into the mattress, fucking you wildly, and taking his emotions out on your swollen cunt. he likes it when you cry, when you beg for him, and he’ll never admit it to himself, but — when he gets to press kisses to your flushed lips when you curl up to him in bed after.

not everything has to be about the actual sex.

not yet, at least. it’s also about sitting on nanami’s lap in nothing but his t-shirt whilst you make out with him. his warm palms sliding down the length of your bare skin and roaming your body, running his fingers over your nipples and groaning into your mouth in return when it makes you whimper.

it’s about grinding down on his erection, your hips moving on their own because you’re way too needy, and his hands coming to steady your waist because he’s about to fucking cum in his pants from you just pressed up against him like this, and he desperately needs you to slow down.

it’s about him wanting more with you — of course he does, you’re perfect — but holding back because god, this is only the fourth date and somehow already the third glass of wine tonight and he needs to slow things down because he really fucking likes you and he doesn’t want to move too fast. he’s serious about you, and he wants nothing more than to prove that to you.

and then it’s him finally giving in when you’re sucking on his neck and whimpering quietly in his ear, right after you’ve guided his hands to rest on your breasts and begged him to just touch me, kento, please. because how is he supposed to resist you when you’re asking him so sweetly like this?

then, it’s him kneeling down in front of you, his pupils blown, coaxing you to spread your legs for him, pretty girl, so he can give you what you want. it’s him fucking groaning, cursing under his breath and then immediately apologising for it, after he sees that you’re already sticky and messy between your thighs from just some light touching.

SOMETHING WORSE THAN HATE ─ one shot

nanami kento x reader — enemies to lovers au

SYNOPSIS: upset with each other after a mission ends in a near-death encounter, the tension on the drive back to the city finally erupts in a culmination of old arguments and unexpressed feelings. you push nanami too far, and what starts as another fight spirals quickly into backseat heat, fogged windows, and unexpected confessions.

CONTENT: hate fucking, car sex, rough (but tender) sex, porn with plot, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, reader is snarky and a huge brat, brat tamer nanami, both are sorcerers this is important to the plot, tsundere-ish behaviour from nanami, so much sexual tension it fucking explodes, consent checks, fingering, we fuck first and talk later, hurt/comfort, two emotionally repressed fools, happy ending — wc: 8.5k

A/N: there is some semblance of a deeper plot hidden within all this messy hate fucking stuff but i’ll let you discover it for yourself! i hope you enjoy the read <3 — ao3 link

It’s not a secret that you don’t exactly get along with Nanami Kento.

They all say Nanami is a gentleman. He’s the gold-standard of what it takes to be a first-grade sorcerer – razor-sharp judgement paired with flawless execution and the kind of combat experience that makes him near untouchable in the field. He’s the role model for rookie sorcerers, the example every teacher points to.

And he’s handsome, too, in the unfair kind of way that has old ladies on the street stopping to stare, the kind of handsome that gets him free bread at the bakery and phone numbers scribbled on coffee cups with a little heart next to them.

You know him a little better than that though.

Nanami Kento is a gentleman – to everyone else but you. He’s not an asshole in the traditional sense of the word, neither has he ever raised his voice or stooped to insults (you can’t exactly say you’ve adhered to the same principles), but that doesn’t mean you get along.

⟢ PERIHELION ┊ HINATA

✦ content. 7.2k words ⋆ hinata shoyo x f!reader ⋆ childhood friends to lovers. set in the brazil arc. reader goes on vacation to visit shoyo. there's only one bed. mutual pining. brief language barrier w other characters. alcohol. an almost-kiss that turns into [redacted bc spoilers]. an actual kiss to wrap it all up in a neat, #requited love ribbon!

✦ foreword. this is part of the hq x reader server's summer fic exchange!! wrote this piece with my lovely @deltamel in mind <333 hello, you! surprise, i am your secret summer santa mwehehe sorries it took a while to put out, i've had my hands tied for a while but i finally got to lock in for shoyo and mel :3c