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ilonanan

hiorin week special : hiorin x reader poly relationship

requested by many

sypnosis: random crack/freaky imessage conversations between you (fem reader) and hiorin poly relationship!

a/n: js put me in the cuck chair already bro

•18+ Adults Only

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ chain reaction

shidou ryusei x afab!reader

warnings. scientist!reader, school friends-to-lovers, mutual obliviousness, eccentric partners in crime, controlled laboratory chaos, swearing, very affectionate shidou, public declarations, pure fluff ♡

word count. ~4.6k

ryusei follows the sound of an explosion into your laboratory and discovers a girl just as thrilled by dangerous possibilities as he is. somewhere between volatile experiments, impossible goals, and months spent encouraging each other’s worst ideas, neither of you notices that the greatest chain reaction has been building between you two all along.

── .✦

The first time Shidou Ryusei enters your laboratory, he follows the sound of something exploding.

Technically, it is not an explosion. You will spend a considerable portion of your friendship correcting him on that point, although the distinction becomes difficult to defend when a sharp crack rings through the science building and sends a flock of birds scattering from the roof.

Most students would hear the noise and hurry in the opposite direction.

Ryusei appears in the doorway less than ten seconds later, one hand braced against the frame and a look of delighted curiosity spreading across his face.

You stand safely behind a clear protective screen with your goggles secured over your eyes, watching vivid violet foam climb from a glass container and spill into the broad tray beneath it. Mist curls toward the ventilation hood, the whiteboard behind you is crowded with hurried calculations, and a triumphant laugh escapes you as the reaction swells far beyond the line you marked earlier.

Ryusei’s gaze moves from the overflowing container to your face.

His grin slowly stretches wider.

“That was fucking beautiful.”

You push your goggles onto your head and turn toward him, still clutching your clipboard against your chest. His football uniform is streaked with grass, sweat darkens the roots of his blond-and-pink hair, and his pale eyes shine with the unmistakable excitement of someone who has just discovered a new form of entertainment.

“You aren’t supposed to be in here.”

“Do it again.”

“That isn’t how experiments work.”

“Then make the next one bigger.”

The suggestion should irritate you. You have spent weeks planning the reaction, and this strange boy has reduced all your work to make it bigger without even asking what you were trying to prove.

Instead, the corner of your mouth begins to rise.

Ryusei notices immediately.

He crosses the threshold without waiting for permission, weaving between the laboratory tables as though he has never encountered a room he could not make himself comfortable inside. His attention jumps from the bubbling foam to the rows of glass containers until he stops beside the enclosed chamber prepared for your next trial.

“What does this do?” You follow his gaze toward the switch beneath his hovering fingers.

“It changes what happens inside the chamber.”

“What happens if I press it?”

“At the setting I was considering?” You glance at the equipment, already imagining the result. “Something our instructor specifically told me not to attempt without supervision.”

His fingers remain poised above the switch.

“You saying I shouldn’t?”

You study him for a moment.

Anyone else might have looked nervous or suspicious. Ryusei looks almost painfully hopeful, as though you have placed the most interesting choice in the world directly in front of him.

Slowly, you set your clipboard aside.

You check that the chamber is sealed, pull the protective screen into place, and lower your goggles again. When you look at him through the clear barrier, your grin matches his completely.

“Do you want to find out?”

Ryusei becomes perfectly still.

It lasts less than a second before laughter bursts out of him, bright and delighted enough to fill the laboratory more completely than the earlier crack.

“Who the hell are you?”

You retrieve a spare pair of goggles and hold them toward him.

“Your new favorite person.”

He takes them without hesitation.

You are correct.

Ryusei becomes your unofficial laboratory assistant over the following weeks, despite possessing no qualifications beyond excellent reflexes, unreasonable enthusiasm, and a deeply concerning willingness to touch anything labelled experimental.

He begins appearing after football practice so frequently that you stop looking up when the door swings open. His arrival is usually announced by the sound of his bag hitting the floor, followed by an enthusiastic demand to know whether you have prepared anything catastrophic for him.

Your teachers object to his presence at first. Ryusei responds by memorizing the laboratory rules, passing every safety quiz placed in front of him, and becoming surprisingly competent with the equipment.

He never develops caution in the traditional sense.

He simply learns that ruining one of your experiments is far more dangerous than anything stored inside the laboratory.

“Hold this.”

You toss a clamp in his direction without looking away from the notes in front of you. Ryusei catches it one-handed and positions himself beside the table.

“What happens if I drop it?”

“You destroy three weeks of work.”

“What happens if I hold it higher?”

“The result changes.”

“And if I turn it sideways?”

You slowly lift your head. “Would you like to discover how quickly I can throw you through that window?”

His grin sharpens. “Is that part of the experiment?”

“It can be.”

“Hot.” You roll your eyes and return to your notes, although not before he catches the smile threatening the corner of your mouth. A moment later, his face appears beside yours, close enough that a loose strand of his hair brushes your temple. “You like me.”

“I like having someone expendable nearby.”

“Your favorite lab rat.”

“My only lab rat.”

“Even better.”

He presses a quick kiss to your temple before returning to his position, apparently unaware—or entirely unconcerned—with the way your pen pauses against the paper.

Ryusei touches you as naturally as he reaches for a football. He throws an arm across your shoulders whenever you explain something that interests him, rests his chin on your head while pretending to read your observations, and wraps himself around your waist from behind whenever you spend too long focused on your work instead of him.

When an experiment succeeds, he kisses your cheek and loudly announces that you are a genius. When one fails, he does exactly the same thing, insisting that scientific disappointment requires “emergency morale procedures.”

You return his affection with equal force.

Whenever he arrives boasting about a goal, you drag stools across the laboratory and demand a complete reenactment. He uses discarded boxes to represent defenders while you draw the path of the ball across the whiteboard, and when your diagram fails to account for what he calls his “explosive genius,” he climbs onto the nearest table to argue his case.

“You turned too late,” you tell him, circling the point where his imaginary run should have failed.

“I still scored.”

“Because the goalkeeper made a terrible decision.”

“Because I’m incredible.”

“Those possibilities can coexist.”

Ryusei places a hand over his heart. “You think I’m incredible?”

“I think the goalkeeper was terrible.”

“Still heard incredible.”

You throw the marker at him.

He catches it between both hands, laughing so loudly that it echoes through the empty room.

Your own victories are never celebrated quietly either. Whenever an experiment produces something brighter or stranger than expected, you forget every expectation that a promising young scientist should behave with dignity. More than once, you have launched yourself into Ryusei’s arms while shouting about the result.

He catches you every time.

Sometimes he spins you between the tables while you laugh against his shoulder. Other times, he lifts you onto the nearest clear surface and stands between your knees while you explain everything at twice your usual speed, his hands settled around your waist and his attention fixed entirely on you.

He does not always understand the details.

He understands the look on your face.

That is enough.

The first time an instructor discovers the two of you celebrating beside a tray overflowing with bright blue foam, she stops in the doorway and closes her eyes.

“What happened?”

You immediately point at Ryusei. “His fault.”

He points at you with equal confidence. “Her idea.”

“You encouraged me.”

“You asked if I wanted to make it bigger.”

“And you said yes.”

“Obviously.”

Your instructor opens her eyes and looks between the two of you—both wearing protective goggles, both splattered with harmless blue residue, and both far too pleased with yourselves.

“I regret allowing this partnership.”

Ryusei’s arm tightens around your waist. “Hear that, scientist? We’re official.”

“Scientifically.”

“Spiritually.”

“Academically.”

“Criminally.”

You raise your hand.

He slaps his palm against yours hard enough to sting.

“Definitely criminally.”

By the time you notice that your instructor has left, the two of you are already arguing over who deserves credit for the mess.

Other people find you exhausting.

You consider this evidence that they lack imagination.

For years, teachers and classmates have insisted that someone as intelligent as you should behave with greater restraint. They expect a talented scientist to be quiet, detached, and permanently serious, as though enthusiasm might somehow diminish your competence.

Your habit of giving experiments dramatic names, narrating countdowns like rocket launches, and laughing whenever an idea becomes real in front of you is treated as something you will eventually outgrow.

Ryusei never asks you to lower your voice.

The first time you describe an ambitious project everyone else dismissed as impractical, he does not suggest choosing something simpler. He listens with his chin balanced against your shoulder and asks what you need to make it bigger.

In return, when he tells you about an impossible goal he wants to score—the angle too narrow, the movement too strange, his body twisting in a way that would make any sensible player hesitate—you never tell him to become realistic.

You ask when he plans to try it.

Some people are supposed to balance each other.

You and Ryusei prefer amplification.

“You’re completely insane,” he tells you affectionately one afternoon.

You are crouched beneath a worktable, searching for a cable, while he lies on the floor beside you for no practical reason. His goggles sit crookedly over his forehead, and his long legs block the aisle behind him.

“You followed an unidentified noise into a laboratory and trusted a stranger who handed you protective eyewear,” you reply. “I don’t think you’re qualified to diagnose anyone.”

“Best decision I ever made.”

“You also tried to taste the indicator solution.”

“It looked delicious.”

“It was hot pink.”

“Exactly.”

You slide out from beneath the table and discover his face hovering directly over yours.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

His eyebrows lift. “Pretty?”

“Would you prefer handsome?”

“No. Say pretty again.”

You place your palm against his face and shove him aside. Ryusei catches your wrist before you can retreat, pressing a kiss into the center of your hand with an enormous grin.

“Love you too, scientist.”

“You say that whenever I insult you.”

“You make insults sound romantic.”

“You once told an open flame you loved it.”

“It was gorgeous.”

“You proposed to the centrifuge.”

“It knows how to move.”

You pull your hand away, although not before he threads his fingers through yours and gives them an affectionate squeeze.

Ryusei says he loves you constantly.

He says it whenever you allow him to start the final stage of an experiment, when you bring an extra drink because you knew he would appear after training, and when you threaten him for stealing your goggles. He writes it between the calculations in your notebook and shouts it from the far end of the hallway whenever he sees you leaving class.

Once, after you corrected one of his teachers so thoroughly that the man abandoned the argument, Ryusei announced in front of everyone that he intended to marry you.

Because he throws every emotion into the world at full volume, you can never tell where the performance ends.

You convince yourself that affection is merely another outlet for his endless excitement.

It is easier than admitting how desperately you want him to mean every word.

The phrase chain reaction becomes yours halfway through the school year.

You are preparing a demonstration for an upcoming science competition when Ryusei arrives with a split lip, grass stains across one knee, and the triumphant expression of someone who has just made several opponents regret challenging him.

He sits on the edge of your worktable while you arrange the materials, swinging one leg and stealing sweets from the bag beside him.

“What’s this one do?”

“One reaction starts another,” you explain. “Then that one sets off the next, and it keeps going until something finally stops it.”

He chews thoughtfully. “So one thing explodes—”

“Reacts.”

“—and makes everything else explode too.”

“That is a terrible explanation.”

“Still right.”

You glance at him. Ryusei reaches forward, catching you by the loops of your lab coat and drawing you between his knees. His hands settle comfortably around your waist while he looks up at you, pale eyes shining with the certainty of someone who has just reached a magnificent conclusion.

“That’s us.”

You stare at him. “We are not a chemical reaction.”

“You get excited, then I get excited because you’re excited, and then you get even crazier because I’m encouraging you.”

“You say that as though you aren’t the one climbing onto tables.”

“You like me on tables.”

“That is unrelated.”

His grin stretches wider. “Is my explanation wrong?”

You open your mouth.

Nothing comes out.

“Thought so.”

“You skipped almost everything important.”

“Still us.”

“An increasingly unstable situation that becomes impossible to control?”

“Exactly.” His thumbs sweep slowly over your sides. “Romantic, right?”

“Deeply concerning.”

“Same thing.”

He laughs and draws you closer until your knees bump the edge of the table.

“Chain reaction.”

You should correct him again.

Instead, your hands settle over his shoulders while warmth gathers beneath your ribs.

“An extremely volatile one.”

“The best kind.”

After that, the words become a challenge passed between you.

Before an experiment, Ryusei looks at you over the top of his goggles.

“Bad idea?”

“Catastrophic.”

“Partners?”

“In crime.”

His smile turns wild.

“Let’s explode.”

Before an important match, you ask him the same questions.

He always gives you the answer you want.

── .✦

When Blue Lock takes him away, the laboratory becomes unbearably quiet.

There are no arms suddenly appearing around your waist while you work, no demands to see the day’s most dramatic experiment, and no tall striker stretched across the floor where you are trying to walk. Your instructors seem relieved by the peace.

You hate every minute of it.

Before leaving, Ryusei comes to the laboratory in his street clothes and finds you pretending to reorganize equipment that had already been perfectly arranged for over an hour.

His invitation is folded inside his jacket.

“You’re going,” you say.

“Damn right.”

His grin is familiar, but the excitement beneath it feels sharper than usual, edged with something restless. Blue Lock promises a sealed building full of strikers willing to tear each other apart for the chance to become extraordinary.

It is exactly the kind of experiment Ryusei would willingly enter.

You would never ask him to remain contained.

Instead, you retrieve a roll of athletic tape from the table.

“Give me your wrist.”

He offers it without question.

You wrap the tape securely around him before taking a marker and writing two words across the white surface.

CHAIN REACTION

Ryusei studies them. “What’s it do?”

“Nothing.”

“Boring.”

“You’re the experiment.”

His eyes rise toward yours. “And you?”

“I’ll be observing the results.”

“You watching?”

“If they ever let you onto television.”

“They will.”

“Someone's confident.”

“I’ve got something worth exploding for.”

The words settle between you before you can ask what he means.

Then his hands close around your face, and he kisses your forehead hard enough to push you back half a step.

Another kiss lands on your left cheek.

Then your right.

“Ryusei.”

He presses one to the tip of your nose.

“You’re going to miss me.”

“The laboratory’s accident rate might improve.”

“Not what I asked.”

You catch him by the front of his jacket before he can retreat and pull him down, planting an equally loud kiss against his cheek.

Ryusei freezes.

The reaction is rare enough to qualify as a scientific breakthrough.

“You’re going to miss me too,” you tell him.

His entire expression ignites.

“Fuck, yeah.”

When he hugs you, nothing about it is restrained. His arms lock around your waist and lift you from the floor while his face disappears against your neck. You cling to him just as tightly, laughing when he begins turning the two of you in a slow circle between the worktables.

“Come back with catastrophic results,” you whisper.

He lowers you far enough to meet your gaze, his grin all teeth and promise.

“Baby, I’m gonna blow the whole experiment apart.”

── .✦

The Japan U-20 match is the first time you see him again.

You enter the stadium with no intention of behaving like a dignified observer. Several students from your science program are seated elsewhere, having learned from experience that sharing a confined public space with you during one of Ryusei’s matches is inadvisable.

The moment he steps onto the field, you are standing.

From the distance, he looks both exactly as you remember and somehow more alive than he ever did within the boundaries of your school. His body appears incapable of true stillness, every movement carrying the anticipation of something dangerous and magnificent waiting for the right moment to break free.

You shout his name despite the thousands of voices surrounding yours.

There is no reasonable possibility that he can hear you.

Still, his head turns briefly toward the stands.

For one impossible second, you think he is searching for you.

Then the match claims his attention.

Watching Ryusei play has always reminded you of waiting for something to blow.

The warning signs are all there: the growing impatience in his movements, the wild brightness in his eyes, the way every missed opportunity seems to wind him tighter. He does not become discouraged when the path to the goal closes. He becomes excited, as though the resistance only promises a more satisfying release once he finally tears through it.

You know that look.

Something inside him is waiting to ignite.

Itoshi Sae gives him the spark.

The pass rises into the penalty area at an angle that appears impossible only until Ryusei moves. There is no hesitation in him. He throws himself into the air, his body twisting backward as though gravity has personally offended him and he intends to punish it.

The noise of the stadium disappears inside your head.

For one suspended moment, he hangs above the field—wild, weightless, and grinning as though the entire stadium has become his laboratory and he is about to discover exactly how much noise one body can create.

Your hands close around the railing.

“Come on,” you breathe, a grin already spreading over your face. “Show me.”

Ryusei’s foot connects with the ball.

Everything explodes.

Sound crashes across the stadium as the net snaps behind the goalkeeper. The crowd surges to its feet, but you are already standing, screaming so loudly that pain immediately scratches at your throat.

“That’s it!”

You throw both arms into the air, laughter breaking through the shout as the enormous screen replays his body suspended above the field.

“That’s the reaction!”

People around you turn to stare.

You do not care.

On the pitch, Ryusei celebrates with the same wild joy that has filled your laboratory a hundred times. His laughter is visible even from the stands, his entire body overflowing with the release of everything that had been building inside him.

Then he begins searching.

His head turns from one section of the audience to another until his gaze reaches yours.

You know the exact second he finds you.

The fierce exhilaration remains, but recognition moves through it, transforming his grin into something warmer and far more personal.

You raise one hand and tap two fingers against your wrist, directly over the place where you had written on his tape.

Ryusei glances at his own wrist.

Then he points straight toward you.

“CHAIN REACTION, BABY!”

The stadium is too loud for you to hear him, but you read the words from his mouth easily.

Beside him, Sae follows the direction of his hand.

“The scientist?” he asks.

Ryusei looks offended by the inadequate description.

“My partner in crime.”

Sae turns toward the stands in time to watch you mimic an explosion with both hands and nearly strike the spectator beside you.

“You’re both public safety concerns.”

Ryusei’s grin becomes almost predatory.

“Hot, right?”

Sae walks away without answering.

Ryusei shouts after him that silence means agreement.

── .✦

Whether you find Ryusei after the match or he finds you remains impossible to determine.

The instant you see each other at opposite ends of the corridor, you both begin running.

His legs are longer, so he reaches you first, but you leap before he can slow down. Your arms lock around his shoulders as he catches you beneath the thighs, the collision forcing him backward while laughter bursts from both of you.

“You saw it!” he shouts against your neck.

“Your elevation was disgusting!”

“Good disgusting?”

“You threw yourself backward in midair like gravity had personally insulted you!”

“That sounds hot.”

“It was beautiful.”

“Fuck, I missed you.”

You grab his face between both hands and pull back enough to examine him. His skin is still flushed from exertion, sweat darkens the roots of his hair, and the exhilaration glowing inside his eyes has not dimmed.

“Well?” he demands. “How bad was it?”

You narrow your eyes, pretending to inspect him while he practically vibrates beneath you.

“Catastrophic.”

His grin widens. “Yeah?”

“You blew their entire defense apart.”

“Keep going.”

“You made an entire stadium lose its mind.”

“And?”

You laugh, unable to contain it any longer.

“You exploded, Ryusei.”

A triumphant yell tears out of him before he spins you in the middle of the corridor.

You cling to his shoulders, laughing while his voice echoes against the walls. Anyone approaching takes one look at the two of you and wisely changes direction.

When he finally lowers you, his hands remain securely around your waist.

“So I win?”

“This wasn’t a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition.”

“Then yes. You win.”

His expression brightens. “What’s my prize?”

“You scored in front of an entire stadium.”

“Already had that.”

“Public recognition.”

“Got it.”

You tilt your head. “Then what do you want?”

Ryusei looks at you as though the answer should have been obvious from the beginning.

“You.”

Your heartbeat gives one hard, inconvenient thud.

He says things like that. He has always said things like that.

Before you can decide how much meaning to give the word, footsteps sound behind him. Sae passes the entrance of the corridor and glances briefly in your direction.

“There’s the love of your life,” he says.

Ryusei beams. “Told you she was real.”

Sae continues walking.

You stare after him before slowly turning back toward Ryusei.

“The love of your life?”

“Yeah.”

“You told Sae that?”

“Pretty sure I’ve told everyone.”

“Ryusei.”

“What?”

“You have never actually asked me out.”

His expression empties.

The silence that follows is so complete you could record it as an anomalous event.

“What?”

“You have never asked me to be your girlfriend.”

“I kiss you.”

“On the cheeks.”

“You sit on my lap.”

“The laboratory had one functioning chair.”

“You slept on me during the train ride to the science competition.”

“You occupied the entire seat.”

“You threatened to strap me to an examination table.”

“For science.”

He stares at you with increasing disbelief.

“I thought we were dating.”

Your laughter erupts before you can contain it.

Ryusei’s arms tighten around you.

“Don’t laugh! I’ve told you I love you, like, a thousand times.”

“You told a Bunsen burner you loved it.”

“It had a beautiful flame. I didn’t want it to meet my parents.”

“You proposed to the centrifuge.”

“That was physical attraction.”

“Ryusei!”

“What the hell was I supposed to think?” he demands, although his own mouth is beginning to curve. “You kiss me, jump on me whenever something blows up, and call me your partner.”

“In crime.”

“That’s more serious than dating!”

Your laughter grows until you have to brace both hands against his shoulders.

“You honestly thought I knew?”

“You’re the genius.”

“That does not make me telepathic.”

“It should.”

You eventually straighten, though your smile remains and your hands stay resting against him.

“Then ask me.”

Ryusei blinks.

“Properly,” you add.

The disbelief disappears from his expression, replaced by something bright and intent. He has never been shy and does not become shy now. Instead, he looks at you with the same hungry focus he gives the goal whenever an impossible opening appears.

His hands slide more firmly around your waist.

“Be my girlfriend.”

“That sounded like an order.”

“Be my partner in romantic crime.”

“Terrible.”

“My favorite catastrophe?”

“That isn’t a question.”

Ryusei leans closer until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His grin softens without disappearing, warmth settling beneath all his eccentric delight.

“Be the girl who blows shit up with me, screams at my goals, and makes every terrible idea I have even better.”

Your heartbeat quickens.

His forehead comes to rest against yours.

“I don’t want somebody who tries to put me out,” he continues, his thumbs moving restlessly along your waist. “I want you standing there with that crazy grin, asking whether we can make the explosion bigger. I want your experiments, your stupid goggles, and your face in the crowd every time I score something incredible.”

“My goggles are not stupid.”

“They’re hot.” You laugh. “And I want to be the first person you run to whenever you make something impossible happen.” His gaze holds yours, direct and entirely unashamed. “So be my girlfriend, scientist. Officially this time.”

You let him wait.

One second.

Then another.

His eyes narrow.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

“Evil woman.”

“Your favorite.”

“Always.”

You catch him by the collar and kiss him.

The surprised sound that leaves Ryusei disappears against your mouth as his arms drag you closer, meeting your energy with his own. The kiss is warm, eager, and slightly crooked because neither of you can stop smiling long enough to accomplish it properly.

When he starts laughing, you do too, the sound caught between your lips while one of his hands rises to cradle the back of your head.

You pull away first.

He immediately follows, stealing another quick kiss before you can speak.

“So that’s a yes?”

“That requires further experimentation.”

His pink eyes light up.

“Hell yeah.”

You kiss him again before he can become any louder.

── .✦

The laboratory feels right once he returns.

It is too loud, mildly hazardous, and alive in a way it never manages to be without him.

Ryusei enters wearing goggles stolen from your drawer and finds you adjusting a new experiment inside a reinforced glass chamber. He slips behind you, his arms circling your waist while his chin settles against your shoulder.

“What does that do?”

You glance toward the chamber. “It should glow.”

“Should?”

“Possibly very brightly.”

“And the noise?”

“There may be one.”

His smile appears beside your cheek. “Bad idea?”

You check the seal one final time before lowering your goggles.

“Terrible.”

“Partners?”

Turning within his arms, you place one gloved hand over his chest.

“In crime.”

He kisses you, bright and quick, before following you behind the protective screen.

“Let’s explode.”

You begin the countdown together.

At first, there is only a spark beneath the glass. Then color rushes through the chamber, growing brighter and brighter until the reaction blooms in a flash vivid enough to paint the entire laboratory in light.

Ryusei shouts as though he has just scored another goal.

You laugh just as loudly.

A second later, his arms are around your waist and your hands are catching his face, excitement passing between you as effortlessly as it always has.

One spark becoming another.

A perfect chain reaction.

I HAD TO DO ONE FOR MY MAAAAAN. gods i love him so much.

I have soooo many ideas that i have been writing nonstop these past few day hehe.

gumiholic

(愛) / f!reader x bachira

⠀ ♡゙ ׂ 𓏸⠀ 🦢 ／ " ay man, this looks pretty good man— where yo clothes at? "

strike one ／ the shirt

You were lounging on the bed, flipping through a magazine, when the bathroom door opened. There stood Bachira, beaming and currently shirtless, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

He pounced on you, peppering you with kisses while still wet. You yelped, "Meguru! Put on a shirt!"

He pouts, "Fineee. Yes, ma'am." He reluctantly pulls away, digging through his closet for a shirt. He puts on the first one he finds, tackles you onto the bed, wraps you in his arms, and giggles.

You let him this time.

strike two ／ the pants

The second time it happens, he's walking around the apartment in only his underwear (Calvin Klein boxers), whistling a jolly tune while searching for cereal. You scowl, "Meguru, pants on."

"Aww, but come on!"

"Now."

He pouts again, groaning like a child, but drags his feet to the room to comply with your demands.

He slips on some grey sweatpants, then walks over to you.

"Happy?"

"Yes." You ruffle his hair, and in return, he carries you in his arms, bridal style, while spinning you around at a concerning speed.

"AHHH, MEGURU PUT ME DOWN!"

strike three ／ everything

The third time it happens, you've had enough.

You're in the living room, watching a movie, when Bachira skips around the house butt-ass naked like a really cheerful toddler. You screech, "BACHIRA MEGURU I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!"

He tries to defend himself as you throw a pillow at him. "The monster told me to do it! Besides, it's nothing you've never seen before!"

Your eye twitches as you slowly say, "Isagi is coming over in 5 minutes."

"He's what!?" Bachira's eyes widen as he squeezes the pillow.

"I invited him over for dinner. If he comes to this apartment and you're still not dressed, so help me, Bachira Meguru, I will—"

He doesn't wait to hear the end of that statement and sprints to the room, albeit whining, to get some clothes before he completely wrecks his relationship with you.

a/n : yknow bachira is kinda pompompurin because they both like being naked

pompompurin

hmmmm

ilonanan

bachira meguru - good boy

requested by anonymous

sypnosis: he’s naughty, but he’s so, so sweet and good to you. reward him, won’t you?

warnings: nsfw, aged up!bachira (18+), unprotected sex (p in v), handjob, heavy praise kink, soft fdom, sub!bachira, light dacryphilia, light dumbification, creampie

“so, so pretty, baby,” you murmur into the ear of the man you’re currently occupying. he squirms under your body weight, writhing in response of the stimulation he’s being provided. you smile at bachira, smile at how responsive and cute he is—but he’s not looking. his eyes are tightly closed shut, head thrown back, all too focused on the pleasure.

your ass sits on his thighs, with your knees bent at the sides of his hips. bachira’s gripping weakly at the sides of your body, hands sliding up and down your waist and hips. he doesn’t know what to do with himself—brainless, is what you’d describe it as. he moans pathetically at your firm hand around the base of his cock, giving mean jerks that feel so miserably good. you trail your palm up to just the tip of his dick, and bachira regains slight consciousness again before you rub. you’re almost surpised that he hasn’t ejected you off his stature with how much he’s fucking shaking.

“feels s’good, baby—please don’t stop!” bachira cries with a desperation that’s so filthy. “i’ll be so, so—hah—sosososo good!”

you laugh at the poor man’s lack of control, a stark difference in his usual carefree, chaotic front. but your laugh isn’t out of crudeness, no, his behavior couldn’t be more endearing. your free hand trails to his jaw and grabs his chin, effectively pulling him towards your face. he can hear the grin in your words as you whisper into his ear lowly, “you’re so exasperated that it’s cute, meguru.”

he lets out a lewd moan at that. it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“yeah? y’like those words?” your grin seems to widen from what he can hear, at least. bachira nods his head frantically, but he’s soon interrupted by the pick up in pace, and your hand slides up and down his cock faster than before. loud, choked up whines fall from his lips in strings, followed by curses and pleas. “you’re taking this all so well, sweet boy. keep focusing on my hand and my words.”

bachira opens his eyes briefly to find you already staring back at him, and his cock twitches in your hand as he takes in your beauty. he can feel the admiration that radiates from your irises, how you cherish and hold bachira so endearingly in your eyes. and he can’t help the tears that begin to well up in his, glossing over and adding to the fucked-out daze. “yes, ma’am—i love the way you talk to me—do things to me.”

“that’s a good boy,” you purr in his ear, hand slowing on his cock. in response you get a whine—but he doesn’t complain, he wants to be good, after all. “you’re so eager to answer me, listen to me—obey me. you’re so good to me, yeah?”

that earns a mumbled yes from him, mind too focused on the way your hand handles his dick. the slower pace allows you to thumb at the slit of his cock, and that has his legs practically bouncing beneath you. his mouth is agape, drool already beginning to well up and threatening to fall from the sides of his lips. “thank you so much, baby—thank you—!”

bachira thinks he’s already ready to break, to let go of the orgasm he’s been so desperately chasing. you notice. you’re well aware of the way his hips buck into your hand at an increasing rate, the way his verbal queues are higher in pitch, frequency—brainless, of course. an evil ignites in your mind, and your fingers surround the head of his dick, briefly interrupting bachira’s bliss. he’s dazed and confused, tugging slightly at the plush of your skin to keep going. “don’t worry, sweet boy. i’m about to reward you for being so adorable.”

the dopamine is all that fills his senses as of current, and he isn’t processing a single word you say. his mind is all full of desire, that wantwantwant of your hand to keep getting him off. so imagine his confusion when you abruptly pause the journey to the end—only to skip forward one too many minutes.

“ah—fuck! woah, baby—!” bachira cries out when he feels the sudden contact of your bare pussy on the head of his dick. he’s already so sensitive, and coupled with your folds coating his dick in your arousal has him leaking out more pre-cum than before. your hand carefully guides his dick into your cunt, walls stretching from his size, only to squeeze around his cock impossibly good. “too good, too good, baby! feels too good—”

oh fuck.

he moans pathetically loud once you situate yourself fully on his crotch, effectively bottoming out. all he feels is the voluntary and involuntary squeezes of your walls around his length, the warmth and lubrication enhancing the pleasure. you can feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, rubbing against that spot inside of you that makes the both of you melt. “you can take it, meguru. i know you can,” you mumble softly, gazing straight into bachira’s eyes. he doesn’t fight your words—he nods, eagerly.

“yes, i can. i can take it—” he whines, and he’s not sure if he’s trying to confirm or reassure himself.

“good boy, baby,” you pet his head softly as you murmur praise into his ear like it’s a mantra. “you’re doing so well f’me, meguru.”

it’s now that you decide to finally ride the man in earnest, and his eyes roll back as he fully succumbs to the subspace. his hands, holding your hips, guide you up and down on his length. the lewdness of the act has you so wet, and it forms a subtle white ring at the base of his cock. he wants to look at you in the eyes, to focus on the woman that makes him feel this fucking good. but it’s precisely why he can’t—the woman making him feel this fucking good is too good. the pleasure is almost possessing his mind, holding his playful personality captive under the control of submission—dumbification.

“keep doing well for me. focus on my cunt, baby,” you command lovingly. bachira nods instantly, followed by uncontrolled, pornographic moans. your hips rise up and down, ass smacking against his toned thighs. your clit bumps against his pelvis with each and every down movement, whether it be a bounce or a grind forward. your tits press against his chest and he almost loses it.

“i wanna let go—wanna cum… now, please!” bachira cries out suddenly, arms suddenly wrapping around your waist to pull you in closer. his face now presses against your boobs, and he mouths at the fleshy skin as he pleads. it leaves condensation of drool and saliva on your skin—but you don’t mind. it only riles you up further.

“go ahead, sweet thing. cum f’me,” you assura bachira firmly. “you’ve been so good.”

you can feel the way his dick springs into action, allowing himself to chase that pinnacle of pleasure. his hips halfheartedly meet your thrusts down onto his cock, and it aids the fact he’s hitting directly into that sweet spot. bachira’s hands tighten their grip on your hips, squeezing into the skin and practically into the bone as he approaches his high. “gonna cum! oh—god—baby, i’m cumming!

“yeah? let go for me.” bachira squeezes his eyes shut as the pleasure washes over him, tears brimming at the closed slits. his hips stutter up into your cunt, and it almost seems as if he’s unsure whether he wants to keep fucking you or take a break. his cum shoots into you in slow, copious amounts of ropes. it only builds the white ring around the base of his cock. “you did so good, meguru.”

bachira sighs a breath of relief, still fucked-out and hazy from his climb down. “but you can take more, right, sweet thing? be a good boy and help me cum too.”

fuck.

a/n: subbt bachira… nghhhhhh

riccyyvalz

r/aita for having a grindr profile while in a relationship? u/shidouisdeepinside

a little context for the title. i (18m) absolutely love my partner LET THAT BE KNOWN. but i’ve had my grindr profile even before meeting them and i cannot just GET RID of it. there’s too many memories. besides, monogamy has always infringed on my rights of freedoms.

anyway, my partner found out a couple days ago. we were chilling in some restaurant as we waited for our order. i had to take a pee super badly so i went to the bathroom, leaving my phone at the table we were sitting at. well, upon getting back, my partner was gone, and all that was left was my phone. with an opened grindr notification . . .

at this point i was utterly confused. disoriented if u will . . . because how could i just be abandoned like that?

anyway i tried calling them. five times. and not once was my call picked up. i really am genuinely confused . . . i mean i get it might be “cheating” but also i don’t think so. it’s more like experimenting. my partner won’t let be talk to them AT ALL and this has been honestly eating at me for days.

reddit, tell me, am i the asshole here? i really dont think so . . .

| u/cheetahprint..chigiri: based off title alone you’re the asshole like tf

| u/isagiyoi.11: This is a crazy one . . . Honestly if I were you I’d just go back to being single. YTA

| u/saeitoshi10: 😂 yta

> u/shidouisdeepinside: well hey there peachie 👀 wna do sum strange for a piece of change?

> u/saeitoshi10: ?

| u/onazilovesyou: now if this isnt the saddest thing i’ve ever seen … yta 😟

| u/H_Buratsuta: It all depends on the length of the relationship. Data points suggest that around the 3 month mark is when partners become majorly attached and co-dependent. If the relationship has surpassed that margin, then I believe YTA. If not? NTA

| u/xxotoya.exx: preach about the monogamy thing like holyyyy 😩 u are NTA bcs u speak the truth

> u/shidouisdeepinside: WE TWINS u should come over 👀👀 jk lolz …. orrr??

| u/rinthedestroyer: ew yta u sound like a bug go die

> u/shidouisdeepinside: okay wtf who pissed on your pillow

| u/poof!itsness: Check out Michael Kaiser’s podcast for more advice ! :) “The Blue Rose Blooms Again”

| u/teddyknightnotbear: Click this Link for Free Shipping On all Orders

> u/iggybunny: aw man :( now my phone just has hentai ads

| u/reoreoreo03: theyre probably homophobic i’d suggest breaking up with them and embracing who u truly are #nta

| u/julianloki.therealest: LMFAOOOOO dude i think u gotta break ur shit cuz ts is too much… yta.. LMFAO STOP IM DYING LIKE WTF IS THIS

> u/itzcharleschevy: hey lokz

> u/julianloki.therealest: log off bruh

| u/bumblingbachirahehe: grindr is crazy. 🤪 . i suggest talking to a counselor maybe it’ll help!! 😜🤠🫶

| u/keepingitrealbyhugo.v: Breathe. You’re not a villain. You have a tenderness to you, I can sense it :). Honestly, you’re a vibe! ✨

> u/shidouisdeepinside: fucking bot this doesnt help

| u/Chris.Princeisonline: I support the gays!! <33333 I am NOT homophobic!!

> u/Noel_Noa: Who was saying you were? Performative.

| u/oikawainthehouse: eesh been there nta

. . .

it appears shidou was indeed the asshole

— ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

the full mixtape

•18+ Adults Only

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x3nawr1tes

HOW TO WOO A GIRL 101!- FT. KARASU TABITO

┌─────━┿──┿━─────┐

When Karasu Tabito has a crush on his academic rival (that probably hates him!), he’s at a loss. So when his sister Miyuki Karasu learns of this crush, she takes it upon herself to help out her dear little brother in getting the girl.

─────━┿──┿━─────

TAGS: academic rivals to lovers, possible ooc, karasu’s sister’s name is mentioned for the plot, very fluffy, and lots of banter.

WORD COUNT: 12.4k

A/n: guys this finally made it out of the drafts… anyways, here’s the long awaited karasu oneshot ive been promising.

─────━┿──┿━─────

lynsquared

superspeed! w/ hyoma chigiri (requested) ✧*:･ﾟ

your hips rolled slowly, soft sighs filling the room as chigiri looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit.

“what’s wrong now, princess?” you exasperated, rolling your eyes at his expression.

he tightened his hands on your hips, lifting you up and dropping you at a faster pace than you were moving. “go faster.”

your lip curled upward, looking down at him in annoyance as you scoffed. “make me.”

in reality, you should’ve picked your words more carefully, knowing that his competitive urges followed him everywhere. even into the bedroom.

before you could blink, he flipped you over quickly, pressing your back deep into the mattress, his cock thrusting in and out of you at a speed that had you screaming in shock.

“sl-slow down!” you gasped, words caught in your throat as hyoma’s thrusts somehow sped up, his movements forcing your bed frame to hit the wall repeatedly, paint chipping on the walls from all the previous times he’s done this.

“jus’ shut up, will you?” he chuckled, letting his face drop to your neck, teeth nipping at your neck eliciting a sharp whine from your mouth. “you can take it.”

you cried out, your nails digging into his skin where they rested on his shoulders, close to piercing him if you pressed down the slightest bit more. his hands tightened their hold on your waist, undoubtedly leaving bruises for you both to find and admire the next day.

the feeling of his length moving in and out of you at his pace had your brain melting, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you lay helplessly beneath him, body caged in by his arms.

“fuck, you feel so good.” he groaned, hair strands beginning to fall out of place and sticking to the thin sheen of sweat on his face. you forced your eyes open, shaky fingers coming up from his shoulders to push the hair out of the way.

chigiri blinked at you, his own resolve slipping. but instead of letting you catch it, he moved impossibly faster, your back arching up and pressing your bare chest against his. you whined loudly in his ear, a matching noise leaving his chest as he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours harshly, catching every noise that fell out.

he saw the way your body started to tense, the way your walls clenched around him like they were trying to pull him further in like his tip wasn’t kissing your deepest spot. chigiri pulled away slightly, letting his forehead rest against yours as you panted.

“already there, aren’t you?” he teased, voice rough against your face. you nodded pathetically, head empty as your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging as if you were trying to hold yourself together.

hyoma moaned at the feeling, speeding up yet again just to feel the way you pulled at the strands like you wanted to rip them out.

“g-gonna-” your words caught as he lifted your hips up slightly, changing his angle, cock now ramming into your sweet spot that had black spots appearing in your vision.

“let it out then.” he chastised. “took you long enough already.”

feel free to request anything blue lock!

note: gah damn this diva is hard to write for. i rlly hope this isn't ooc.

<3, lynn

aquasprings

➽───── one who yearns is one who earns ─────❥

ft. suguru geto

synopsis ~ months of longing. a week at a beach house. one shared bed, too much tension and too little self control. suguru geto has spent far too long wanting his friend’s roommate. far too long trying not to ruin her. unfortunately for him, when she shows up to spring break looking at him like that, he fails spectacularly.

tags ~ 18+ mdni !!! idiots in fucking love, yearning yearning yearning, geto's a masterclass yearner, lowkey slowburn? friends to lovers-ish, mutual pining, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, oral fixation, piv sex, creampie, marking, size difference, belly bulge, light possessiveness, aftercare, geto's just down bad and i love him and i love this

a/n ~ gosh this was toooo much fun to write. decided to make this one a long(er) oneshot compared to the multi parts i had for choso n gojo, bc it made more sense with the plot i had in mind! hopefully all of u lovelies enjoy ;) and sorry for the wait <3

w/c ~ 17.4 k (youch i got carried away)

access the frat verse here!

spideyyeet

NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER — T.F.

[ SUM ] — college soccer coach toji has a secret admirer. but how secret is it when most of the highlights in the school paper are photos of him, instead of the players scoring goals?

[ TAGS ] — MDNI 18+ ONLY. nsfw. piv. raw. unprotected. age gap (mid 30s x early 20s). slight exhibitionism. HEAVY CREAMPIE. FAT BULGE. spanking. CUNNILINGUS. oral f!recieving. dacryphilia. reader kinda freaky. thick dark sexy HAPPY TRAIL. nudity. SHOWER SEX. SCENT KINK. pet names. spitting. wc: 19.1k

[ A/N ] — inspired by coach!toji from my fratkuna series. I was gooning too much whenever I’d mention him soooo

photo-journalism can mean many things. at its core though is documentation and being present. it’s about recording what happens so it doesn’t vanish into the noise of the world. and that’s what you’ve been doing since you started uni.

working for the school newspaper means covering everything that matters to the university. big events, games, and when you attend a school with a division 1 soccer team, that’s ranked the top of the country, it means your weekends are spent on the sidelines of the pitch. floodlights humming overhead, cleats tearing into the turf, and the air sharp with anticipation.

everyone’s eyes are on the match, on the players, the scoreline, and the inevitable victory. everyone’s, except yours.

your lens has a habit of drifting. and it always finds him on the sidelines, the head coach.

chuuren

what are you willing to do? - C.K. ✩ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS — Helping the quiet TA, who shrinks himself down to avoid taking too much space, come out of his shell. You’re slowly understanding why he thrives in an environment where he’s told what to do — and he shows you why he’s hesitant to be in charge.

TAGS — MDNI (18 + only) nsfw. work contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. Gentle Giant!Choso, Dork!choso, overly freaked out!reader. Nerd!choso, SIZE KINK, sub to top(M), Switchy. rough. making out. couch sex. lifting. mutual masturbation. Changing positions. Missiònary. excessive use of sexual innuendos, dacryphilla, inconsistent writing (?). Choso will do anything you ask. PWP. Teasing, Degradation (both). pet names. crack.fluff. reader is nice to him obv. but freaked out.

WC: 14k — art by k4eny on twt

a/n: Hello blog, IM VERY HAPPY W THIS ONE and i promise to not leave u high and dry! this is highly inspired by an augustinthewinter audio (im a #freak) — Also what if I release my drabbles HEH

75%

The score read on your last mock test for your Historiography class. Your worst subject for the semester by far. Next week was going to be your midterm. Now, since your professor, Mr. Gojo, knows his students a little too well, he facilitated a surprise mock text to see how much you all understood the lessons.

A chorus of curses and groans start filling up the classroom with each student receiving their results as they’re handed out.

“…Now I can assure you, if you guys are worried about scoring higher than each other, it won’t matter because theoretically almost all of you failed.”

Another set of groans and a little bit of laughter comes from the class. You’re back to looking down on your paper, flipping through the pages to check every question and each correction out of habit, noting down what you have to improve on. Then you stumble upon the last page with the words;

Feel free to ask for help :) You smile, knowing exactly who wrote this without them being in the room. You look up to double check and you’re right, it was just your prof still going on about Khaldun or something — you tune him out to make way for the giddy feeling rushing through your stomach.

•18+ Adults Only

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tonycries

Daisies - T.F.

Synopsis. Five times Fushiguro Megumi and his particularly determined elementary class attempt to matchmake the strong, surly divorced Fushiuro Toji with you—their pretty elementary school teacher. And the one time it doesn’t end in disaster. (Or in other words; the one time Fushiguro Megumi might just become a big brother?!)

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!teacher!reader, DlLF!Toji, 5 + 1 things, crackfic tbh, Iike MAJORLY, brainrot, sigmas, Megs and co., faiIed matchmaking, Toji’s a YEARNER, but can’t pull, bake sales, cherry bIossoms, SO many references, kids Iearning bad words from Toji (smh), parent-teacher meetings, tension, oraI (m + f), he’s FÉRAL, manhandIing, spítting, p taIking, p sIapping, fíngering, cIit bíting, GRADING, somewhat roIepIay, he’s MEAN, he’s BIG, biiiig stretches, you grade HIM, cervíx smooching, sIight banter, cIit pinching, more p sIapping, sIight bréeding, mentions of kids, feeIing for himself, taIking you through it, creampíes, cúmpIay, stuffing you FULL, brief headIocks, implied marathons, getting together, happy endings, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 15.4k

A/N. And shoutout to Megan THEEEEEE StaIIion for teaching me what rizz was mhm- aIso slightly inspired by my Unckuna fic here <3

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE ONE: RIZZ.

“…and that’s the problem.”

Fushiguro Toji can’t believe this.

No matter how he looks at it—this is weird, right?

After all, no respectable single father would be hesitant to drop his son off at his elementary classroom- instead lingering by the wide, multi-colored building steps for a few seconds before finally entering like a lamb to the butcher’s. And even worse- no respectable single father would let himself be ruthlessly interrogated by his son over this fact.

And worst of all, reveal - after much intense probing by a nine-year-old - that this was all because…he happened to have…a stupid crush on one of the teachers.

“Which one?” Megumi looks up through jet-black bangs much like his, nose crinkling at the thought of his father having- eugh, feelings.

Toji sighs. “Don’t mean to push you into your emo phase early, kid, but…”

And then he glances beyond the little one’s frame.

Right. At. You.

tonycries

Tokyo Drift - C.K.

Synopsis. A bad boy? Check. Your parents hate him? Check. Considers you the cute lil’ good luck charm for his high-speed street races? Check. But you’ll be riding more than just Choso’s car…

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, racer!Choso, street racing AU, Choso with tattoos and piercings, talks of F1, small towns, gossip, slight good girl x bad boy, he’s so down bad, pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem rec.), he goes FÉRAL, spítting, fíngering, cúmming in his pants, he’s BIG, tummy buIges, making it fit, headIocks, manhandIing, Prince AIbert’s piercing, running from it, matíng presses, rough s, body worship, DÚMBlFICATION, creampíes, overstím, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.6k

A/N. I refuse to watch the F1 movie so this is the closest thing-

“Look at him-”

You sigh, “I know, he’s…”

“-bad news.”

“-hot.”

It was inevitable that you and your group of friends would look at each other with odd expressions at the clash. You always did whenever it came to him.

Choso Kamo - the star of your cozy lil’ town’s latest gossip.

You’d heard (well, it was impossible not to hear) that he’d just recently moved from the big city for an exchange program at your local university. Why anyone would willingly travel to some ramshackle town to be gawked at, you couldn’t understand.

“I’m just saying—” You’re grumbling, gaze flicking across the green campus to where Choso was seated underneath a lone tree, face bent into a book.

Your stare lingers on the twinkle of his ear piercings in the sun, “-he doesn’t seem that bad.” The dark, dark line tattoos crawling down the side of his neck. “Who knows? He seems almost…nice-”

Just then, he’s turning his head - precisely to meet your eyes.

Oh.

tonycries

Internet Girl - C.K.

Synopsis. On campus? Choso Kamo’s the sweet, shy nerd you share film class with - the one who can barely meet your eyes without blushing. Online? Choso Kamo is really @cursed(your)wombz—the #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends with 820k followers to see his…nine inches. And he might just be looking for a partner.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, streamer!Choso, (sort of) B́J Alex AU, cámboy!Choso, college AU, he’s a nerd, film nerd!Choso, secret identities, masks, píercings (ears, tóngue, D), tattoos, chat, streaming, you’re a fan, identity reveal, exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), again PlERCINGS, tongue f, spítting, p sIapping, p talking, letting the viewers choose, fíngering with rings, overstím, dúmbifícation, Jacob’s Ladder, rough s, fiIthy s, he’s sIightly mean, tummy buIges, making it fit, pressing down, talking you through it, cIit pinching, pússydrúnk Choso, matíng presses, chokíng, manhandIing, mocking, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, chat Iove you, cúmpIay, getting together, Phantom of the Opera references, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 14.9k

A/N. Hehehehehe-

Sunday was the night you’d found him; sprawled out on your bed and thumbing through the Internet. Some glitzy pop song you couldn’t name blasted from your speakers, and the room was saturated in the tingly excitement of having speedy Wi-Fi, no assignments, and the night to yourself. LED lights pink.

You’re checking some of your messages - doling out a few hearts, a few reposts - when that bell-shaped button bursts in blue. A new notification.

@cursed(your)wombz liked your repost.

It was on a photograph of the Sun—big and yellow, seemingly melting over a grey horizon.

Which was perfectly ordinary- this was the Internet, after all. And though your list of followers was modest, of course you’d interact with a stranger here and there.

The problem was in the way the notification disappeared as soon as it came.

An…accident maybe? This person had liked and unliked your repost. And without a second thought, you’re typing their username into the search bar.

And clicking on their profile.

shut-thy-m0uth

You’ll Never Guess What I Heard! ♡

an9els

❥ 𝓗OW TO BAG A HOT DILF: 5-STEP BEGINNER’S GUIDE !

𝓼ummary: the hot, grumpy dad next door won’t give you the time of day? here’s how to make him fuck you stupid anyway. warning: side effects may include pregnancy.

pairing: dilf!toji fushiguro x f!reader genre/tags: smut with (some) plot, kinda slow burn tension, neighbor romance, crack comedy, age gap, manipulative flirting, implied daddy issues, light angst, dom!toji, corruption kink, praise + slight degradation, breeding kink, rough sex, slight jealousy, daddy kink, possessiveness, manhandling, overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral (f. rec), creampie, fluffy ending <3

word count: 8.1k (idk, my hands slipped)

❥ STEP 1 — commit to the bit (and the bit is wanting him SO bad you’re willing to risk federal charges)

you don’t believe in love at first sight. you’re not that kind of girl.

but lust at first sight?

yeah. that one had you in a chokehold the second you saw him hauling a case of bottled water into his apartment, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants and a faded black tank top— one that clung to the broad curve of his back like it owed you something. like it knew what it was doing.

•18+ Adults Only

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megumour-deactivated20260504

being pregnant with toji’s baby made you wetter... 18+ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

it all started when he had come home from work later than usual.

you were only in your second trimester, but toji insisted that you stayed at home. he didn’t want to impose any risks on you child.

so all you did at home was clean, cook, and watch TV. it was nice for the first week, but after that, you were bored out of your mind.

nights like this where he came home extra late made it even worse. especially when you were needy.

“toji, i missed you.” you buried your head in his chest the second he walked in.

he chuckled. “missed you too baby,” he said. he tried to move to put his stuff down but you wouldn’t let him.

“hmm? someone needy?” he smirked, his lips brushing against yours.

you nodded eagerly, way past the point of words.

he kissed you hungrily like you were his oxygen. his large hands cupped your cheeks and he led you all the way to your shared bedroom.

“jesus christ,” he muttered when he ripped off your panties.

“you’re soaked. is it the hormones?”

you nodded sheepishly, and he grinned at you.

“i don’t even think i need to prep you,” he swiftly pushed two fingers inside you. you whined and he kissed your cheek.

“patience baby.”

he curled his fingers and you moaned, gripping his bicep.

“tojiiii.”

“i got you, don’t worry,” he whispered.

you rocked your hips absentmindedly, fucking yourself with his fingers. he watched you silently, occasionally curling them.

“i think you’re ready.”

you helped him out of his pants and boxers. his cock sprung out: hard, flushed pink, and leaking of precum.

you licked your lips in anticipation and spread your legs a little more.

“someone’s eager,” he teased, pressing his tip at your entrance and spreading your slick everywhere.

“you look so pretty like this,” he muttered, “belly all swollen, glowing, pregnant with my baby. you even got your legs wide open like you want me to breed you all over again.”

“toji, stop being a fucking tea—”

he slammed into you without warning. you were so full. his thick cock bullied your walls as he rocked slowly inside you.

“mmm, being pregnant with my baby has you soaked huh?”

you couldn’t think straight. he stretched you out so good all you could do was nod.

his balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, hitting your g spot. you were close. he was balls deep inside, fucking you without any plans of stopping.

“you’re close sweetheart? let go f’me.” at his command, you gushed all over his cock and he groaned your name.

he was soaked from his abs down. you felt his cock twitch and he followed after you, his seed spilling inside you.

“again,” you begged.

he grabbed you by your thighs and pulled you closer to him. you wrapped your legs around his neck. somehow, at this angle, he was even deeper. your thighs shook and he fucked you hard and fast, chasing the high once again. he teased your nipples with his fingers and whispered filthy things.

“pussy’s s’good, baby”

“greedy girl, just desperate for my cum.”

“need you to cream all over my cock one more time pretty.”

“sooo tight f’me mama”

by now, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come.

the room was hot and smelled like sex, and the sound of skin slapping were the only things keeping you from tapping you out.

that and toji’s voice lingering in your ear.

“c’mon baby, you’re not giving up now, are you?”

you shook your head.

“i know that’s right. come for daddy, just one more time.”

it was safe to say you were up the whole night.

a/n: tried something different ...😖

fancy some more!?: m.list ⟢ 1k celebration event

kandim0nster

ᯓ★ Leona ? napping on top of a herbivore? Perish the thought.

ᯓ★ Leona Kingscholar isn't one for relationships—sleeping was more his style. So it was more than just hard to stay awake on the days he promised to, you'd check him on it to. With a small flick on his forehead, or taking away his touching privileges. Every other day, he could sleep, and on the next, he'd have to spend time with you in class. Fair trade, right?

ᯓ★ Leona could sleep with a freight train right next to his ear, and barely stir. Maybe a little twitch here and there, but fully waking up? Hell no. Only way your getting this man up, is food. Better be good food to, otherwise you may just get a conk on the head.

ᯓ★ Though, when he does feel like having a cuddle buddy (which is surprisingly a lot for a loner like him) You're his first pick. You don't have a choice here, either your his personal pillow. Or—there is no 'or'

You. Are. His. Pillow.

ᯓ★ Leona must love you A LOT. Because he'd never let another herbivore do the things he let's you get away with. Play with his ears and tail (not to often though) eat with him, the whole shabang.

ᯓ★ You CONSTANTLY need to have something of his on you, anything that smells like him. Maybe one of his vests, a glove or jacket—just anything to get that fae stench off you. Even if it wasn't fae, more so human or even another animal, yeah your sleeping in his bed tonight.

ᯓ★ Everytime you eat together—expect him to pick off your plate. But only the meat. You know by now he rarely has anything other than beef or steak, so you kinda absolutely gotta force him to eat something green.

ᯓ★ Unsurprisingly, Leona is strong. So strong (and stubborn) in fact that when he wants you somewhere, he just picks you up. Throwing you over his shoulders as you sit there like a limp little baby. Sometimes he just carries you around like that, either over, or on his shoulder. If your in his arms though, expect his tail to coil around you.

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