♡‧₊ Hi, I'm Rae ₊‧♡

------20yo・she/her・bi/pan------

[gxldlatte]

reader that isn’t a bimbo? Reader that is put together and likes dressing up? Reader that’s older than 18-20? Reader that’s not white-coded??? Reader who doesn’t have daddy issues? Reader who does have daddy issues in a “man hater” way? Reader who’s taller than 4’11-5’0?? Reader who’s quiet and reserved and not in a robotic way or stuttering way? Reader who’s Tina Belcher coded? Reader who gives off the vibe of a creepy barn owl but somehow it’s endearing? Reader who’s charismatic and charming? Reader who’s-

[devourrrmee]

GLORY BOX

warning - p links! dni if uncomfortable.

dc men (dick grayson, bruce wayne, jason todd, clark kent) x fem! reader

warning! must be logged into twt/x for you to see the links :p

incl ⤷ unprotected sex, oral, facefucking, rough sex, spanking, fingering, breeding kink/creampie, jerking off, cumshots, size kink (heavy in clark’s…couldn’t help it💔), anal play/fingering, public sex, car sex, hate fucking, male moaning, meow

ᯓᡣ𐭩 DICK GRAYSON

— he pounces on you once you’re alone

— mutual masturbation

— bf!dick who comes home from patrol all needy for you

— the ending to the classic “shut up”…”make me”

— size kink size kink size kink size kink

𓆰 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪ BRUCE WAYNE

— he’s just trying to ease your nerves before meeting the team!!

— fucking you on a yacht bc he’s bruce wayne

— husband!bruce who plays with your holes for stress relief :3

— he’s ruined other guys for you, all you crave is him

— fucking you after a gala

༉‧. JASON TODD

—“that’s it, take me all the way. fuuuckk.”

— bf!jason who sends you this shit so you’ll come home earlier

— he texts you “big dick is back in town” when he’s done w a mission

— somno with jason

— “ i hate you so fucking much.” “yeah? doesn’t seem like you hate my dick though..”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ CLARK KENT

— husband!clark who eats you out and spells his name against your cunt with his tongue

— he’s too big so he has to fuck your thighs

— someone is not aware that he is … well endowed

— enjoys when you grind against him

— he makes himself smaller to function in everyday life and forgets how big he really is

[targaryenluvs]

OH BABY!

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader, young!naive!tribute reader

summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

warnings: AGE GAP (18 - 23) smut, FILTH THIS MAN IS DOWNBAD, possessive, corruption, pervy finnick, violent thoughts/intrusive, exhibitionist? degradation, oral (m & f), p in v, overstimulation, praise, mirror kink? spanking 👀 rough sex? tummy bulge, my first time writing smut be kind 😭

word count: 5k - this is literally the longest fic ive written.

a/n: this is what happens at 6am and i can’t sleep, thoughts are thunk -UPDATE HOLY CRAP THERE IS GONNA BE A NEW MOVIW AND BOOKKKSJSNABS

taglist: @coolchick333 @doublesideeye

“and the female tribute for district four, y/n l/n.” your eye involuntarily twitched at your name being called. the people around you, distanced themselves from you as a path was carved to your own hell.

as you walked to the platform you kept your head down. you were actually hopeful that you’d get through this reaping, your last and then never see the inside of the arena. but of course fate was against you. as you stood in front of the people you couldn’t help the silent tears that fled down your face.

your mothers face was tired and drained, she had a feeling you’d get picked. mothers intuition? your father was pissed, his little girl, his sweetheart, being thrown into an arena to die? and worst of all, there wasn’t anything he could do.

you felt alone, as if no one could help you. and as you said goodbye to the life you knew, you could only pray for safety, and a quick death.

as you were escorted to the train you fiddled with your sweater sleeves. pulling them down, rolling them up, just to focus your mind on something. it was chilly, most likely the air conditioning on the train and sometimes you had to hold down your skirt.

finnick couldn’t take his eyes of you once he saw you on the train. you looked so tiny in the chair and he couldn’t help but smile.

he practically had you all to himself.

“y/n?” your head shot up at your name being called and you were met with finnick odair in all his glory. “finnick? finnick odair?” even calling his name you sounded so unsure, so he smiled and nodded.

“i’m your mentor, and i promise to try my best to get you to win.” he sat down in front of you, spreading his legs and you felt your face warm up. he found you adorable, with a cute white sweater and a short black skirt. you had your hair down with the front parts tied up with a bow. his own personal present.

your shy demeanour reminded him of your young age, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. you were looking everywhere but at him and he loved it.

“do… do you think i can win?” god no. the tributes would eat you up alive, but he’d try his best. “i do.” with just two words of encouragement, you smiled at him for the first time.

finnick wanted you to smile at him forever.

“are you hungry?” the rumbling of your stomach answered his question, as you ducked your head in your hands in embarrassment.

he moved your hands aside, tilting your chin up, "it's okay to be hungry sweetheart, come on." he held his hand out for you and he laughed at your hesitance. "i don't bite, not unless you want me to.” the last part of his sentence came out hushed and you averted your eyesight from him.

there were so many foods laid out before you, and it wasn’t as if you were poor, but god, it all looked nice. the eclairs took your attention away as you reached for one, your finger sweeping cream off the top before placing it in your mouth. it was sickeningly sugary but you had a sweet tooth, you retracted your finger with a pop! and you somehow didn’t hear finnicks groan.

how on earth were you not realising how dirty it seemed? and it was there finnick realised how pure you were, “its so good,” you flashed him a toothy grin, “you'll have some won't you finnick?" you offered it up to him with two hands and how could he resist? the two of you spent the rest of your time on the train eating and talking, finnick utilising his time to get to know you.

you’d spent a day getting settled and were now to get ready for your interview.

after being prepped and readied, you were shuffled into your dressing room where analise, damian and sarah awaited. a range of compliments were thrown your way.

“oh isn’t she adorable?”

“i could pinch her cheeks forever!”

“you are precious!”

they were so nice to you and you loved it, but you barely ever learned how to take compliments so you ended up just nodding your head. “she is gorgeous,” you snapped your head up to the doorway and there stood your mentor, in all his glory. his compliment felt heavier than the rest, like he truly meant it, and you looked down at your hands as you fought off the blush threatening to rise on your cheeks.

in an hour you’d been through a whirlwind of makeup, dresses and jewels. orange, blue, black and all, you loved each one but for some reason after the four of them discussed you’d always be taken out of it.

it wasn’t until you were placed in an off the shoulder, floor length, white dress that you remained in it. and as you looked in the mirror you couldn’t help but stare. your hair was pinned up again, and small flowers were placed throughout. you felt like a princess and finnick agreed. you hadn’t even noticed that your stylists were gone until you heard the door shut.

it was just you and finnick.

“you look incredible.” finnick whispered, he was behind you now. his hand had a mind of its own as it placed a stray hair behind your ear. you turned your head his way, “really?” your voice was so soft and doused in disbelief. if he wasn’t next to you he wouldn’t have heard you. his hand trailed along your neck as he placed your hair behind, he nodded. “i have something for you.”

he pulled out a small seashell, and your eyes lit up, “oh finnick.” you sighed as he placed it in your hands. “it reminded me of you, small, gorgeous.” you looked up at him with doe eyes and he felt like grabbing you and taking you away.

you were breathtaking and you looked at him as if he was god.

“thank you finn, do you mind maybe putting it in my hair?” he took the trinket and placed it above your ear, entangling in with your hair. your heels were on but untied so finnick got onto his knees before patting his knee. he grabbed the straps before tieing them. his fingertips worked quickly and his face was concentrated. he was done and he looked up at you before turning you to the mirror.

finnicks hands were on your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “all done, you look perfect sweetheart.” you turned before reaching up on your tiptoes, “thank you finnick!” you kissed him on his nose before turning back and finnick grinned, “aren’t you cute?” he stood behind you, attached like a shadow. your skin felt soft underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but wander. down your arms, to your waist, he could feel you tensing up underneath him and he could feel his face trying to fight off his smirk.

“finnick?” you breathed out, “what’re you doing?” your voice was small, and unsure. “tell me to stop.” you should. you should tell him to stop. but all you could think about was finnicks hands and how good they felt.

“it’s time!” damian shouted out as you peeled away from finnick to open the door. damian was all too happy to see you as he clapped his hands together. “ah, my special girl you are truly an angel.” finnick knew that. finnick has already said that. finnick had you in his arms and oh so close and this idiot took you away. his sweet girl.

finnick was wondering where his trident was so that he could impale him through the stomach.

“come on y/n.” he ushered you out the door but you managed to slip another look at finnick and all you saw was pure rage.

the interview went well, in your eyes at least.

caesar was as upbeat as usual and it did mostly centre around your dress and looks but you felt you could try your best to use it to your advantage.

the audience was enamoured and you felt you did your best. “and y/n, tell us, what’s your secret strategy for the games? any tricks up your sleeve?” you patted his knee before pointing at him jokingly, “well caesar, it wouldn’t be a secret if i divulged now would it?” everyone loved your answer and caesar doubled over, “aren’t you cheeky! isn’t our diamond here so playful? but a sweetheart nonetheless!” the crowd agreed loudly.

“now, since you came out i think we’ve all been wondering where that seashell came from. it doesn’t exactly match the theme of your outfit.” you could hear the murmurs from the crowd agreeing with his words.

“am i right in suspecting a certain blonde mentor of yours?” you pursed your lips and a giggle began to form as caesar pumped his fist in the air, “i think we got it! can we expect the two of you together once you win?” you’d never even had a boyfriend and here you were being put together with the finnick odair, you were sure everyone could tell how giddy you were.

you felt as if you had a million eyes on you, your whole body was heating up as you buried your head in your hands. “ah we caught her out! someone’s got a crush! but then again it’s finnick odair so don’t we all?” a bunch of cheers erupted as you beamed.

“well it was a wonderful to meet you, truly! our diamond here, y/n l/n!” screams and shouts directed your way came in full force as you waved at caesar and blew kisses to all. as you walked back you bumped into someone.

“y/n right?” the boy from three, theo.

you nodded and stuck your hand out, “nice to meet you!” he looked down at your hand and back up at you before laughing, “very formal, i like it. i’m theo, your dress is nice but i think the girl wearing it is breathtaking.” you giggled before tucking your hair behind your ear.

finnick stood with the other mentors and held himself back from shoving haymitch out the way to get him to stop rambling on. his grip on his glass was solid, so it wasn’t a surprise when it shattered. “oh my!” effie yelled out as finnick apologised before someone came to clean it up. he stepped around the person before excusing himself to get to you.

you were laughing, hard. what in panem was so funny?

you were wiping tears away from your eyes as finnick joined the two of you, his hand on your back as theo nodded at him, “finnick.” he hated him. why the hell did theo speak as if he knew him personally? his smug face was unbelievably irritating. “finnick! how’d i do?” and the second you spoke he felt the anger dissipate, he adored the way you waited for his response as if it held all the answers.

“you did well.” finnicks answer felt snippy and made you feel as if you’d done something wrong. “we should get going.” he directed you away from the boy as you shouted out, “i’ll see you around!”

the entire elevator ride was, to put it lightly, awkward. it left you feeling confined in what little space you and finnick had. “finn? are you okay?” you placed your hand on his arm and stood in-front of him. you were hoping he’d explain what was wrong but what you didn’t expect was to be pushed against the side of the elevator and finnick kissing you. his hand was on your waist again and he shuffled your dress up, slithering underneath.

you moaned in his mouth, his hands playing and gripping at your ass. in reaction, your fingers thread through his hair and your grip tightened, “finn- not here.” the elevator was glass and you were scared of people seeing. finnick found it hard to care, drunk off your perfume. in a panic, you pulled away from him, your hands cradling his face to make him listen. “i’ve… never,” the whisper hung over the both of you, the tension in the air thick and hot.

instead of being met with judgment, he murmured, “i’ll make it good for you, i promise.” finnick had finally gotten a taste, and he could only crave more. his lips met your neck, his warm tongue painting wet desire into your skin. it was almost too much for little old you, letting out quiet whimpers as he explored you. his sleeves were rolled and you needed to ground yourself, your nails dug into his veiny arms. “finn-” you protested but he could tell you didn’t want to. just a little longer and he could get you to give in. “just let me feel you.”

the elevator stopping brought the two of you back as you fixed your dress and finnick fixed his own hair, running his hands through it. he directed you out of the elevator and nodded in acknowledgment to the people entering. as you walked onto your floor you were met with servants, stylists and others. it seems damian and analise had taken it upon themselves to invite some friends and you were eager to meet them.

whereas finnick wanted to rip your dress off and take you till the morning.

the same dainty hands which were running all over him were shaking others and waving as you all sat down to eat. as everyone feasted away you couldn’t help but play with your own meal. you were flushed and all you wanted was to kiss finnick again. he was sitting next to you and wasn’t hungry for food, he wanted to eat something else.

your dress didn’t hide much of your chest and when you reclined in your seat, crossing your arms and pushing up your breasts?

finnick needed to see more.

the clattering of his fork on the floor drew the attention of some, but they went back to their conversations and bets. “i’ll get it for you.” you pushed back your seat and got down to your knees, flicking up the tables sheet and searched around for it before hitting cold metal. you reached your hand out with the fork to finnick. his cock was throbbing at the image of you on the floor, chest on display and a sweet smile on your face. he bent down and grinned, “you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

his words went straight down between your legs and your mouth fell open at his words.

such vulgar words from such a beautiful man.

his hand came down to close your jaw. you felt, weird. as you sat back on your chair you felt warm? but a good warm? it was tantalising. you wondered if it was normal.

finnick would tell you right?

“finnick.” his head turned your way, “what is it y/n?” you leaned closer and so did he, your hands cupped around his ear, “i feel weird.” his eyebrows shot up as a sign of interest, “oh? what’s wrong honey? where do you feel weird?” you gulped, your throat felt dry and for some reason it felt dirty to talk about.

your eyes drifted downwards and as you looked up finnicks eyes seemed darker. “here?” his touch was soft on your thigh underneath the table as you gasped.

“everything all right dear?” sarah questioned as you nodded. it felt so good, his touch. but it wasn’t exactly where needed, his hand trailed closer and higher, until it was gone. your head snapped up at him as he smirked at you, mocking you.

for the rest of the night he didn’t even pay attention to you. and you had no clue why.

you couldn’t sleep after the day you had and all your mind was thinking of was finnick. finnicks hands, his arms, his mouth, his words.

“i don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“yes, here.”

“i’ll make it so good for you.”

“just let me feel you.”

“you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

your room was too quiet, making it unchallenging for your thoughts to run wild at the anticipation of finnick odair. you couldn’t bear it, so you left to the busiest room you could think of.

your leg was shaking up and down and your mind was pacing whilst your body couldn’t. the butterflies were practically knocking around in your stomach and you hoped perhaps finnick could help. he’d help you right? but he didn’t before. maybe he was just tired? you were so desperate for help and answers that you’d forgone knocking and walked right in.

only to be met with an extremely wet finnick odair.

by your luck your eyes were probably poking out of your head at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was your first time being in the same room as a man so, naked? for the lack of a better word, he still had a very short towel wrapped around his bottom half. was it small? or did he make it look small?

“see something you like sweetie?” god his voice was so saccharine, how the hell did his voice work you up? “i- i wanted to t-talk.” and you were stuttering, great! he walked closer to you and you stepped back, all the way into his wall. “yeah? does my pretty girl wanna talk?” you nodded along dumbly as your breath quickened. “words sweetie, use your words.” you swallowed, “yes.”

his thumb caressed your cheek before brushing along your lips, “you sure you just want to talk?” and there they were, the butterflies. you shook your head, “no? what do you want?” you played with your night dress, “you?” it was a soft murmur and finnick wanted you to beg. he’d been pining after you since the second he saw you, it’s only fair right?

“where do you want me?” his words were hot in your ear, his body was wet and your white night dress was suddenly see through. his hand rested on your ass, “here?” you shook your head, “no?” his thumb brushed over your nipple as your nails pressed into his neck, pulling him into yours. your breath was heavy and he was unrelenting.

his hand moved from your ass to cup your front as you gasped, “here?” you nodding along dumbly, “please finnick, i’ve been wanting you for the whole day, i’ll be good for you i promise.” your words were music to his ears, “yeah? you’re gonna be good f’me?”

“yes, yes, yes.” you whined as you wrapped your arms around his neck. standing on your tiptoes as you bit your lip. “you gonna let me use you yeah? do whatever i want?” you were practically jumping up and down at this point, your tits with you. your straps were pushed down as your dress fell down to the floor. his cock was throbbing at the sight of you, he’d been waiting for this.

“then on your knees honey.” you were quick to obey as he pushed you down to the cold floor, his towel quickly ripped off, courtesy of you.

it was your first time doing anything sexual so any cock was bound to be big in your eyes. finnick loved the sight of you on your knees, innocent as ever. fully nude, hands slotted nicely between your thighs. he wanted to ruin you. he ran his hand along his dick, pumping it before resting the tip on your lips.

as if you were on auto-control, your lips parted to let him through. a salty taste flooded through your mouth as he cooed down at you.

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“pretty baby on her knees, who knew you’d be such a slut?”

your eyes flickered up at him as you moved your head forwards on your own accord. “fuck.” he groaned as you replaced his hands with yours.

he wanted to go easy on you.

but kitten licks at the tip and soft kisses weren’t doing it for him. you opened your mouth again, gaining confidence and feeding off of finnicks praises. his large hand placed on the back of your head, fingers spread out as he thrusted down your throat.

the sounds that filled his room were lewd. squelches and groans as you tried your best to keep going. your cheeks hollowed out as finnick guided you, “relax your throat, try breathe through your nose. if it’s too much just tap my thigh sweetie.”

you retracted, catching your breath as you gazed up at him whilst simultaneously blinking away the tears in your eyes but a few fell free. he couldn’t help but moan. your messy mouth mixed with your saliva and his pre-cum. “you think theo’s this big? you think he could make you choke on his dick?” you shook your head immediately.

his member felt cold without the warmth of your mouth, but he was feeling nice so he let you take a break. “too big for you sweetie?” you shook your head furiously, “naw is my baby tough?” you giggled as you wrapped your lips around him again, your tongue flat against the underside of his dick as he eased himself in. “ah- fuck.”

but he can only hold out for so long as he began to fasten his pace, chasing his high. your fingers dug into his thighs right under his ass, for some reason you seemed to have something to prove as you took him all the way. your moans egged him on as his hips thrust forwards, “so good f’me, my s-sweet girl.” his praises fueled you on as your nose met his naval. salty tears fell down your cheeks and finnick was in his right mind to lick them all up.

god you were better than he’d imagined. and trust him, he’d imagined a lot.

“swallow for me yeah? be a good girl and open wide.” thick cum coated your tongue as you gladly accepted. finnick proudly gazed upon your painted face. watery eyes, sticky face. all for him. you gulped it down before wiping off the remaining waste on your face, eyeing finnick up before licking it off your fingers.

“what happened to the diamond? only a whore for me right?” your fingers were wet as you pulled them out. “uh-huh.” your agreed as he pulled you up. “do you even know what that means?” he teased as you puckered your lips before shaking your head. “thought so, you wanna be good for me?” you nodded, “on the bed baby.”

you sat down on the bed as you waited for finnick to join you. he situated himself between your legs, running his hands along them. “lean back for me. you took me so well, you want me to make you feel good too?” your eyes widened at the idea, “yes please finn.” his hands reached up and rested under your breasts, “i don’t know if you’ve earned it honey.” your lips twisted into a slight frown, your waterline glazing over.

“i was! i did what you asked finn, please.”

he palmed your breast, massaging it softly as you threw your head back, “please. please keep going.” your begging was more than enough for him, his baby asked so nicely no?

“yeah? you like me playing with you?” incoherent babbles fell from your lips as finnicks mouth kissed your breast. his hand trailed down to feel you, and he was met with warm wetness. the moan you let out was ungodly, “finnick please! oh god it feels so- so good.” he couldn’t help admire you, eyes screwed shut, hands clutching the pristine white sheets.

“oh baby, can you be quiet for me? quiet for finn?” a string of ‘uh-huhs’ came from your mouth as finnick slid a finger into you, a tight fit. “oh my god!” you yelped before slamming your hand over your mouth. he was knuckle deep as he worked his finger in before curling it, then another, then another. his free hand was pushing your hips down into the mattress as your hips lifted upwards with every move he made.

“finnick, finnick. you feel so good.” you cried out as he retracted his fingers before curling them upwards. he knew exactly what to do, where to be, what to say. his name fell from your lips like a prayer and your nails raked down his back as he grunted.

now, finnicks fingers were one thing, but his mouth?

his tongue pressed against your clit and you swear you saw god, finnick was probably the god. his tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers entered your cunt again, the pressure in your stomach was building so high you were afraid of the fall.

a wave of pleasure fell over you as finnick talked you through it, “that’s it baby, let go.” he hovered over you as his fingers worked your cunt. your nails had bloodied his back, scratched raw. as you moved your fingers finnick hissed into your ear. “m’ sorry, m’ so so sorry.” your head was spinning and you wanted to rest, but apparently finnick had other ideas as he lowered himself to your core. your mind was hazy as your hand clutched the pillow your head laid on, the other twisted in his hair.

“what’re you doing?” finnicks green eyes pierced through you as he raised his head from in between your thighs. featherlight kisses trailed upwards to your pussy as your thighs twitched and closed around his head, still sensitive as ever. “just want a taste, clean you up.” he mumbled as he tongue breached your entrance and you were back where you were before.

this man was driven youd give him that.

“finn s’ too much, please.” your words were slurred as he delved inside. he couldn’t find it in himself to let up, you were so sweet, he just wanted a taste. so he kept going, his tongue, his hands, his words. if there was one thing you knew about finnick it was that he could talk anyone into anything. so you found yourself squirming underneath his strong arms, forearm pinning you down to the bed as he made your back arch and your toes curl.

“sweet baby, so sweet.” all attempts of getting away, only caused him to get annoyed with you, can’t you just lay down and let him ruin you? at this point it was for his pleasure rather than yours. your thighs were practically squeezing his head and neck but he kept going. you didn’t know where to put your hands, pulling his hair was no good. your hand somehow ended up on your clit, moving in a circular motion as the other palmed your breast.

each time he made you come you rested your head, energy depleted. but again he ended up between your legs and pathetic pleas from you did nothing to make him stop.

“wanna make you feel good.”

“just one more, you can take it sweetheart.”

when your fourth rolled around you were so far gone. “pretty baby, not a single thought up there huh?” you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond, and he didn’t expect you to. he brushed away the stray hairs from your face and kissed you passionately. “you did so well f’me honey. made me proud, you got one more in you for me?” it wasn’t a question, his dick was painfully hard and he only knew of one solution.

you tiredly shook your head, “no more finny.” he grinned, “no? you don’t want my cock?” your breath hitched at his words and you knew you were fucked. “mhm. want it.” you were reduced to one to two words in a sentence.

“yeah you do. on your knees baby.” you tiredly rolled over, situating yourself on your knees and the palms of your hands as finnick kneaded your ass. his hands grazed over the skin before-

smack!

“think you should be able to see yourself baby.” his hand yanked at your hair as you found your reflection glaring back at you. “so pretty, aren’t you?” finnick knew you were horrible at accepting compliments and he was more than happy to use it against you.

smack!

you’d taken too long to answer, but based on finnicks smug expression you could tell he was hoping for it. “you have to answer baby.” finnicks arm came across your waist, pulling you up, flush with his chest as his hands pawed at your chest.

“you wanna be my baby yeah?” you could only manage moans and finnick was not happy. he threw you forwards as you caught yourself with your hands infront of you.

smack!

“fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” he taunted you as he dragged his cock in between your drenched folds. finnicks groans were deep, and so hot. “you know how long i wanted to fuck you baby? in that short skirt on the train? when you licked up that cream? my girls dirty huh?” you didn’t respond and it only fuelled his fire, he’d wanted you for so long and now you had the audacity to ignore him?

he thrusted into you without warning and you screamed out. “want to act like a slut? i’ll treat you like one. fuck!” your walls were squeezing down on him, sucking him in and he was more than happy to oblige. his hips snapped against your ass as you gripped onto the sheets for dear life. his grip on your hips bruised, leaving a fiery impression in their wake. finnick had stamina for days, he was strong and built. you were small and fragile, finnick was glad to be the one to break you in.

he pulled you up to him again as he kissed you frantically, capturing your bottom lip in between his teeth. he was relentless in his pursuit for his high, he marked up any place he could as he continued to drive into you with determination.

“bet you dreamed of this, of me.” his hand gripped your throat, his eyes bore into your own, finnick was inescapable. every touch, every thrust, all him. you were enveloped in his being and he worshipped yours. finnick continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls. he was deep inside but he wanted to be deeper. “yes! yes! harder!” you cried out.

his hand pressed down onto your stomach, “feel that?” his breath was prominent by your ear, “oh god!” you exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you. thick, hot cum released into you as his and your moans were raising in pitch and his hips began to stutter.

the room was filled with the sound of slapping skin, the promise of silence forgotten. “let go baby, you’re close. let go.” the two of you had eachother and it was more than enough. his groans were deep and animalistic as he spilled himself inside you. your hand reached behind you to caress his neck. thank yous spilled out from you, your whole being was ignited, you never knew you could feel so good.

the two of you lied together, entangled in sheets and a mess of limbs. you couldn’t tell where finnick odair began and y/n l/n started. all you knew was that he was yours, and you were his.

you’d fallen asleep a bit ago, your chest rising and falling steadily. finnicks arm curled around you as you rested on his chest. from the moonlight spilling into his room he could view the bruises tattering your smooth skin. as he traced over them he couldn’t help but grin, he could imagine you limping in the arena.

you sure as hell weren’t forgetting him anytime soon.

[theoraekenslover]

Forcing myself to believe that she wins the games and they get to do this forever

[frey-williams]

When every virgin reader is a petite, white sundress, childish, pigtailed, ‘doe eyed’ innocent girl

[softshuji]

The tbing about hanma is I feel he's a really lonely man at the end of it. He's got a whole variety of people in his life. Y'know, acquaintances, co-workers, and he does frequent brothels when he needs to let off steam but it's never as sexy as he imagines it to be..the women say all the right things but it's ....lifeless. ten minutes later and he's leaving and throwing a few bills on the front desk, feeling somehow worse than before. And he'll go to his penthouse and have a few drinks and read over shitty obligatory paperwork and fall asleep on the sofa and get late the next morning because he had to take the stairs rather than the lift.

And it occurs to him that the only positive interaction he's had is the cleaning lady who comes to his penthouse twice a week, and leaves him homemade banana bread and asks occasionally whether he's really busy because she doesn't see him around as much anymore and jokes on occasion that he needs to get a wife. And he laughs it off because she thinks he's just a lawyer. He doesn't know how to say he's avoiding being alone there because it bothers him too much.

And he thinks y'know what, maybe this is just how it is. The kinda life where no one can get attached and vice versa. Better this way rather, because the cute shit ain't for him. And then he meets you, randomly. A new hire with nice hair, and you don't look like the kinda person that should be here..you're too...soft around the edges. You willingly ask how his day is going, and bring him coffee when he hasn't asked and compliment him on the choice of suit and he's very suspicious. Because why? Why do you do it?

You're not freaked out by walking on him beating a man to death, and you put forward ideas boldly that even Kisaki sometimes likes, and you don't seem like you're scared of anything and even through all that, somehow you find time to wish him a nice weekend when it's Friday.

Just by virtue of existing, somehow you've made his life a little less lonely.

[m00nofplut0]

Heartbeat

Hanma Shuji x Reader (Y/n) female

TW: blood, injury, talk of guns

Angst to fluff

The penthouse was silent when Shuji finally stumbled through the door. His tie hung loose, his shirt was half untucked, and the sharp burn in his right side reminded him with every breath that tonight had been a mess.

He grunted when the edge of a table caught his hip, and a vase toppled to the ground with a crash.

The sound jolted Y/n awake on the couch, her blanket sliding off as she sat up, blinking. “Shuji?” Her voice was still heavy with sleep, soft but instantly alert when she noticed how he was holding himself.

Her eyes narrowed. Then widened. She saw the blood.

“Shuji!” She shot up, the blanket falling forgotten as she rushed over. He opened his mouth to brush it off, but she was already tugging his arm away from his side.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, teeth gritted. His usual drawl sounded thinner tonight, edged with pain he was trying to hide.

Her gaze snapped to his, furious. “You’re bleeding out in our living room. That is not fine. Sit down. Now.”

She steered him toward the couch he’d just woken her from, ignoring his half-hearted resistance. Shuji let himself fall onto it, his long frame slouching against the cushions with a hiss through his teeth.

Y/n was already moving, pulling the sleek black medical kit from beneath the coffee table. Shuji’s eyes flicked to it and gave a humorless laugh. “You really did plan ahead, huh.”

“You don’t get to mock me for being prepared,” she shot back, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Hold still.”

He winced as she tore his shirt open to assess the wound. The bullet had grazed him just below his ribs, leaving a deep, angry line slick with blood. Ugly, but survivable.

Her hands were steady, but her jaw was tight. “What happened?” she asked, already disinfecting the wound.

Shuji let his head tip back against the couch. “Alliance meeting. Other gang thought it’d be cute to pull a stunt. We were ambushed.” He flinched slightly as the antiseptic stung. “Couple of the boys got hit worse than me. Sent them to the doc.”

“And you?” she asked, threading the suture needle with practiced hands.

He gave her a lopsided grin, even though sweat dotted his forehead. “Figured it was just a scratch. Didn’t need to waste anyone’s time.”

Her glare could have cut glass. “You almost passed out in the hallway, Shuji. You call that a scratch?”

He shrugged, though the movement tugged at his stitches-in-progress. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

Her hands stilled, eyes flashing. “One day you might not be. You think I don’t notice how reckless you are with yourself? You act like you’re untouchable, like—”

He cut her off the way he always did when her words hit too close to the bone. His hand shot up, cupping the back of her neck, and he pulled her into a kiss. He ignored the pain it brought, the feeling of her mouth on his being much more overwhelming and much more wanted.

It wasn’t gentle. It never was, not at first. It was bruising, meant to silence, meant to ground them both in the only language he truly trusted. But as her anger ebbed under the weight of his mouth against hers, it softened—still demanding, but less desperate.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. “I’m here,” he repeated, softer this time.

Y/n exhaled shakily, blinking back tears she refused to let fall. “Idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he muttered, with the ghost of a smirk.

She finished suturing him in silence after that, her hands steady despite tears threatening to fall from her eyes. When the last stitch was tied and the bandage secured, she peeled the gloves off and sat back, studying him like he was something fragile.

Shuji didn’t like the look. He caught her wrist, tugging her down beside him. “C’mere.”

She hesitated, then let herself be pulled until her head rested against his chest, legs draped across his lap. His heartbeat was strong beneath her ear, steady despite everything, Shuji knowing that’s what she needed to hear right then. He lazily traced shapes along her back with his long fingers, eyes half-lidded now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

Y/n clung tighter, letting the rhythm of his heart lull her.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she murmured.

Shuji’s lips quirked, but the guilt that flickered across his face was real. He pressed his chin to the top of her head. “No promises.”

But when her breathing evened out and she finally drifted off, he whispered into her hair, just soft enough that she wouldn’t hear:

“I’ll try.”

[berryrev]

And It's His Secretary

Hanma Shuji is a powerful man known for his merciless ways of execution, a full blown thug and one of the crime lords who rule the underground. Everyone in the illegal scene knows what happens when they cross paths with the infamous Reaper of Tokyo.

But despite the fearful titles attached to his name, you still serve him—because you're his secretary. And those titles, sometimes, don't matter when he's acting like an insufferable, spoiled child and a complete piece of shit. (you're not mad, just tired)

The beginning of him: Became His Secretary

-

Hanma Shuji doesn't like his coffee bitter. Or so you think. After six months as his secretary, you notice he never consumes anything sweets. Just cold water and cigarettes. Naturally, you assume he hates sugar.

"Make me a coffee, y/n" he says, pretending to be buried in paperwork. You know that act won't last. He'll get bored, dump the real work on you, and go back to lounging.

Assuming he wants it pure and black (just like his soul), you return from the pantry and set the cup on his desk. Just as you sit down, he hisses. "What the fuck is this shit, y/n?"

"Is something wrong with your coffee, sir?" you asked, trying not to panic and trigger a potential workplace murder.

"This is so bitter. What did you brew? A fucking bitter melon? Put some sugar in it"

You pause. Sugar? Isn't that against his religion or something? Still in confusion, you go back and added just half a tablespoon.

"I apologize for my mistake, sir" you say, handing over the revised cup. He sips, and a frown immediately etches across his face.

"Just say you hate me, y/n" he mutters, pointing to the cup like it personally offends him. "Because if you didn't, you wouldn't serve me this bitter bomb"

You consider your options:

1. Make him another coffee

2. Strangle him

Option 2 is illegal, but it's soothing.

"I did add sugar" you insist.

"Well, I didn't taste it" he snaps, rolling his eyes like the dramatic diva he is.

The rest of the day, you're stuck making coffee after coffee. On the fourth try, frustration takes over, so you added enough sugar to send him into a diabetic coma.

"I apologize again, sir. Here's your coffee. I put a lot of sugar in it" you say through clenched teeth.

He takes a sip and then smirks. "This! This is how you make my coffee!"

You nod, but can't resist muttering, "You could've just said you wanted enough sugar to kill an elephant"

Too late to take it back. You're about to mentally slap yourself for the slip-up when you heard him laugh. Rich, deep voice roaring within the four walls of the office. "Well, you didn't ask"

Because you hate sweets, asshole! you scream in your head.

-

Hanma Shuji wants you to bring a lighter at all times. He needs it as a smoker, and it's your responsibility as his secretary to always have one.

As second-in-command in Toman, Hanma attends various galas and events. Aside from executing enemies or overseeing illegal activities, he goes to these events to scout and gather information for the gang. That doesn't mean he doesn't get bored. So, as his secretary, it's your job to keep him at these events as long as possible, or you higher boss, Kisaki Tetta, might just serve both your heads on a silver platter.

"This is so boring. I need to smoke" he says, standing up. His six foot frame towers almost everyone. He's about to go outside when you suddenly appear at his side, startling him a bit.

"Jesus, y/n!" he exclaims, looking down at you. You almost laughed at his shock expression.

"Hanma-san, you're not allowed to leave this event until 9 PM", you remind him.

"I know, I know. I'm just gonna smoke outside. Geez, hop off my dick" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he walks toward the exit. Though he's clearly irritated, you still follow him.

Outside, Hanma pulls out a cigarette from his pocket and abruptly turns to you. "Lighter?"

"Uh..." you start rummaging through your purse, knowing full well you won't find one because you don't even smoke. "I don't have a lighter, sir."

Before his sigh of irritation can fully escape, you asked if you can go back inside to find someone who does.

Your feet ache from running through the ballroom, asking every man you pass if they have a lighter. Hanma needs his smoke and if he doesn't get it, either he'll whine all night (which is incredibly annoying), or he'll vanish with some random girl. Damn him. Why doesn't he just bring his own lighter? He's a smoker for fuck's sake.

After ten exhausting minutes, you finally borrowed a lighter. You rush back outside, only to see him already smoking, and when he spots you approaching, he smirks. "You're late" he says, blowing smoke in your face.

"It was difficult to find a lighter, sir. A lot of them don't smoke" you reply, seething with frustration. Your feet scream in protest after all that running, only to find him halfway through his maybe second stick. You want to choke him, really.

"I forgot I have one" he says, clearly enjoying the blank expression on your face. He knows you're holding yourself back from kicking him in the shin. "You could've told me from the start"

"Well, it's still your responsibility to bring a lighter. You know I smoke all the time" his voice is full of teasing.

This fucking menace. It's like he'd die if he didn't make your life miserable.

You've had enough. You turn and decided to head back inside.

Just as you're about to enter the hotel, you spot a pebble in the small garden outside. You pick it up, and with the precision of a sci-fi movie protagonist, you throw it.

It lands on his head.

You jump at what you've done, giggling when you see him scratch his head. You know it didn't hit hard, but the satisfaction of your little revenge is enough to send you back inside with a smile.

Hanma Shuji watches your retreating figure, amused. You did throw a pebble at him.

Fucking unbelievable.

-

Hanma Shuji is a pain in the ass when he's drunk. And you experience it when you're trying your best to drag his giant body inside the elevator.

It is midnight, and you're still in the office finishing some papers when calls you. With slurred words along with booming music in the background, he asks you to pick him up at some club in Tokyo. After arguing with him to have one of his men pick him up instead, you end up fetching him.

And now, you're out of breath, trying to balance your walk while assisting him from the side. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, while your arm is around his waist. Damn it. He's literally 6 ft tall, a giant, and it takes all your strength to hold him up so the two of you don't fall face-first on the floor.

"Hanma-san, please help me out here. Don't fall asleep or we won't reach your floor" you say, panting. Oh how many times it crosses your mind to just leave him on the street. It isn't your conscience holding you back (this man does not have one, so why should you?) It's that death would follow if Kisaki Tetta discovers that you left his underboss on the streets shitfaced.

"Gods, you're so heavy!"

You push him onto the big couch when you finally get inside his penthouse. He groans when his head hits the armrest. It isn't intentional, really.

Hanma is finally in his safe space, so you think you can leave his premises, until he calls you, stopping you in your tracks.

"What is it?"

His next words are slurred, so you lean your face closer to him.

"Hanma-san, you're in your penthouse now. So, I will go ho—"

"Stay" he whispers, eyes still closed.

It makes you freeze for a moment, and then a sigh escapes you. You don't answer him, but instead make a mental note to prepare his medicine so he won't whine like a bitch tomorrow.

You're about to stand up when his arms wrap around you, making the two of you hair's breadth apart.

"Hanma-san, I need to go home no—" "I said stay, y/n"

He opens his eyes. Golden orbs almost hypnotize you into staying. But you know better than to believe the words of a drunk man.

When you didn't move, he leans closer. So close you can smell his perfume mixed with alcohol and cigarettes. And his grips suddenly tightens on your top.

However, you realize this isn't the right time for....whatever this is about to be, so you stand up abruptly.

And you heard a ripping sound.

He ripped your blouse.

Because he was gripping you tightly.

And then he falls asleep.

This fucker—

You stomp your foot, annoyed. Trying to hold your poor blouse together, you yank the pillow beside him and smack it into his face. He groans but keeps sleeping like a rock.

Barely keeping your sanity intact, you stomp toward the door, clutching the torn fabric so your bra won't be exposed. But not before giving your boss one final pillow slap to the face.

What. A. Pain. In. The. Ass

-

Hanma Shuji hates feeling cold. That's why he's here, trying to squeeze his tall body into your workstation because he hates feeling cold. And the office feels like it's been blasted with snow (his words)

Unfortunately, your space is the only warm place where he can wedge his giant self in.

"Hanma-san, I can't work properly if you're going to keep hogging my space" you deadpan. "Please go back to your desk. I already asked someone to bring us another heater"

Hanma looks at your standing figure in front of him. He literally drags a chair beside you after discovering that your station is warmer than the rest of this four-walled prison (his words, again)

"I don't wanna"

"Sir, please. I can't even face my computer properly" you protest. He's sprawled at your side, broad shoulders nearly blocking the entire screen of your computer.

"What do you mean? There's a bit space for you" he scoots slightly to the side, almost mocking you with his forced generosity. "And don't you like it? As your boss, I can watch you work. Consider it employee monitoring" he adds with a smirk.

Well, employee monitoring doesn't necessarily mean watching you this closely. You sigh, knowing he won't budge no matter what you do. He'll just argue that he's your boss and you need to follow orders.

"Time is running"

You sit down and start working, a bit uncomfortable because of the minimal space he's given you. And you'll try your best not to be distracted by his presence.

Minutes pass, and your bored boss starts touching everything on your table. He plays with your pen first, trying to copy your signature on a piece of paper. Then he gets curious about your staple remover.

"What's this for?"

"You remove staple wires with that"

A few more minutes pass, and suddenly your side goes quiet. No more movements bumping your chair. No more long fingers messing your desk. Just complete silence. So, you turn your head, only to see him already asleep on your table, head pillowed on his arms.

You prop your cheek on you hand and stare at him for a good minute.

Standing at six feet, broad shoulders, and ridiculously handsome face—these are the traits that make up Hanma Shuji. Not to mention, he's strong, cunning, and ruthless. Deadly combination indeed. A man truly built to be bowed down to.

But among all the qualities that make him a true crime lord, there's one thing you love most about him: his eyes.

Those golden yellow orbs that look at everyone with menace, and yet somehow hypnotize you. One look from him and you know, even if you weren't his secretary, you'd still be mesmerized enough to let him get away with his antics. Disgustingly beautiful and dangerous.

You silently opened your lower cabinet and pull out the small blanket you keep inside. He's going to wake up later with an aching neck and back, but he won't be annoyed, because it won't be cold anymore. Or so you hope, as you gently cover him with a blanket.

-

Hanma Shuji is an asshole. That's the conclusion you come to as you walk out of the conference room, barely holding back your tears.

It isn't normal. You've been a secretary at different companies for years and never once catch feelings for anyone in the workplace. Not a colleague, and especially not your boss.

Your job and personal life are always separate, clearly divided. Then again, you're not sure how much of a personal life you have left, given how much of yourself you pour into this career. Still, day after day, 9 to 5, you remind yourself to keep emotions out of the equation.

That's what you think.

Until that strange feeling starts stirring in your chest every time you interact with Hanma.

At first, it was just work, but over time, things begin to shift. You start seeing him in a different light, suddenly, he stops being your boss.

He becomes a man you like.

A man you'd hold on to and wrap your arms, if only you were allowed. That's when it hit you: you like your boss.

You like Hanma Shuji.

And it's wrong.

Even though you literally work under a crime syndicate, with a crime lord as you boss, you know that falling for him is wrong. So, you keep your feelings hidden, buried deep.

Until today's meeting shatters your resolve.

It's an informal gathering where guns and strategies are laid on the table. And then, suddenly, a woman from another gang walks in. The moment she arrived, she eyed Hanma and decided it's better to sit beside him. And now, they're keep flirting with each other.

You've seen this before: women trying to charm Toman's second-in-command, and him going along with it, no hesitation. In the past, you just shrug and remind him to use protection.

But this time is different. Your eyes sting. Your chest aches. You watch as she clings to his arm, their hushed voices making your stomach turn.

You are jealous.

You have front row seats to their flirting, and though you want to storm out, you stay. Because you're still his secretary after all.

You try to distract yourself by gluing your eyes to your laptop. And it was a big mistake when you suddenly looks up, just for a second, and catch the sight of Hanma biting her ear.

You bite your lip hard. And try your hardest to avoid eye contact with anyone.

Fuck.

You feel so fucking stupid.

This is exactly why you try not to entertain any feelings for him. Even though sometimes you feel he is so fond of you when he let you get away with your little revenges and snide remarks. You know it doesn't mean anything, and falling for him would be a huge mistake.

Now, you're hurting.

An hour drags by before Kisaki finally adjourns the meeting. You didn't waste a second, you stand up and bolt out of the conference room.

The tears you hold in all that time finally spill the moment you step into the restroom.

"Why are you crying, you idiot" you whispered to yourself, trembling hands trying to wipe away the tears. "Of all the people to fall for, you choose that asshole. Seriously, y/n"

But the truth is, that asshole is the only one you want, to meet you eye to eye and tell you he feels the same. But too bad, he's beside another woman.

Eventually, the tears stop. You fix your appearance and pull yourself together. There are more important things to do than fall apart in a bathroom.

You walk out, your professional mask already in place, ready to face him again.

Ready to be what you're supposed to be: his secretary.

And no matter how hard it gets, you'll try to keep your feelings hidden.

-

Hanma Shuji and his secretary. Just his secretary—nothing else. You remind yourself of that everyday, so much that you decided that it's better to distance yourself from your boss. You only talk to him when it's about work, never entertaining anything outside your job description.

No more banter. No more office shenanigans. No more petty revenge. Just work.

It's better this way, you think. Getting close to him means falling deeper without anyone to catch you.

You keep this act, not knowing that Hanma is getting antsy about your behavior.

You don't know it, but Hanma lives for teasing you. Your reactions bring life this otherwise dull office, and now you're keeping that from him. The lack of response from you made him restless, and it feels like you don't want to be near him. He doesn't like it.

He hates it.

So he tries a different tactic. If annoying hasn't worked these past few days, maybe a change in approach will.

This time, he decides to be sweet, so he buys you your favorite dessert. He’s noticed how you always eat that strawberry cake after lunch. Every time, he watches you devour it, and you try your hardest not to do your little happy dance after swallowing. You don’t know it, but he treasures those moments so much. He never tells you how fucking adorable you are or teases you about them.

"Here" he says, placing the familiar box on your desk. "Someone gave it to me. I don't like sweets, so it's yours"

He doesn't wait for your response, just turns and walks back to his chair.

You didn't say anything, just a small acknowledging nod and then you continue working.

You've already had your lunch, so now he waits. Waits for the moment you'll open the box, eat the cake, and light up the room with that smile again.

But thirty minutes passed, you haven't even touched the box. It just sits there, looking out of place on your desk. He sighs. This isn't going to work.

He doesn't leave the office when he usually does. Typically, before sunset, he's out to do his real job. He's a criminal after all, and nights are when his world comes alive, but today, he stays. And you did not ask why.

But you feel it, the gaze he bored into you all day.

"You going home?" he asks, seeing you start to pack your things. The box of dessert still untouched.

"Yes, sir. It's already five"

He stands up, stretching. "Let's go"

You look at him, nonchalant expression almost slipping.

"I'm going home, sir" you repeated.

"Yeah? That's why I said let's go. I'll take you home"

What is he up to? Even though your heart starts to pound, you know you shouldn't agree with him.

"Thank you, sir. But I'll just take the train—"

"What's wrong, y/n? You've been acting weird" he walks towards you, his towering figure stopping in front of your desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir. But if I did something wrong, I deeply apologize—"

"There, there. You're acting so professional" golden eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, he bends down, cornering you against your desk.

Your heartbeat goes wild and you try to hide it by avoiding his gaze, but the closeness only makes it worse.

"I am always professional, sir" you say, like that explains everything.

"Yeah? Throwing pebbles at my head, changing my laptop's password, smacking me with a pillow, and hiding my cigarettes—that's all professional" sarcasm drips from his deep voice as he lists your revenges. And have you ever wonder why he let you get away with those? he thinks. If it were anyone else, he'd have killed them on the spot.

But it's you. So he lets it slide, every single damn time.

You remained silent. However, when you're about to look away again, he gently holds your chin, making you stare up at him.

"I'd rather hear you scold me than be silent like this, so talk to me. What's wrong, y/n?"

He used a voice that was so unfamiliar. It is soft, almost pleading, and Hanma is briefly amused that he spoke to you like that. He's never done this with anyone before, he realizes now, it's only with you.

And that's it. Your feelings crack through. Your knees nearly give out from the tenderness he showed you.

You like him. So so much.

And trying to distance yourself has been pointless, especially if he keeps finding his way back into your heart.

"There's n-nothing wrong, sir—"

"Shuji. Call me Shuji" he says, leaning closer.

You let out a gasp. "I can't"

"Why?"

Because you're just a secretary, and calling his name feels...forbidden.

That thought alone makes your chest aches, you can't help the tears that start to blur your eyes.

You look up at him, and Shuji, for all the sins he's committed, has never felt more like a sinner than when he sees those tears.

Has he caused them? Is he pressuring you?

"What's wrong, baby? Tell me"

It's now or never.

"I- I don't like it when you're with other women" you whisper. And the tears finally fall.

You can't stop them, just like you couldn't stop that indirect confession. You don't dare to meet his gaze, too afraid that his expression would shatter you.

The brave, composed secretary is now crying, unaware that what she said is exactly what the crime lord has been waiting to hear.

"Look at me and say that again" Shuji says, a small smile tugging at his lips. With what little courage you have left, you meet his eyes.

And Shuji, one of the most dangerous men in Tokyo, looks at you with all the softness he can muster in his golden pretty eyes.

"I don't like it when you're with other women"

And then his lips collide with yours.

He touches your cheeks, wiping away your tears as he kisses you deeply.

Pulling away breathless, he chases after your lips again, and you smile through the kiss.

"I knew it. You like me too" he murmurs, equally breathless.

"Too?"

Instead of answering, he dives back in. This time, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer—closer until there's no space left between you.

Until there's no more boss and secretary distance between you.

You know there will be so much to unpack after this, and you're afraid it might not end the way you dream.

But that will be tomorrow's problem, because tonight, you are his equal.

[m00nofplut0]

Love and Morality

Hanma Shuji x Reader (Y/n) female

Philosophical shit

Hanma and Y/n are married

The bass in the club is still thumping like a second heartbeat by the time Shuji figures out something’s off.

Y/n is usually calm, composed, the quiet kind of intoxicating that sits in the corner and sees everything, an enigma. But tonight—tonight she’s leaning too close, her hand flat against his chest as she smiles up at him like he’s the center of the room and the gravity holding her down at once.

“Okay,” he mutters under his breath, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Time to go.”

She doesn’t argue. Just hooks her arms around his waist like a lazy vine and lets him guide her through the haze of lights and sweat and perfume.

By the time he gets her into the passenger seat of his car, she’s quiet for all of two minutes before she starts talking. Not just talking—philosophizing.

“Isn’t it weird,” she says, head tipped against the window, “how you can love someone even if the things they do are terrible? Like, love them so much you can excuse murder.”

Shuji exhales through his nose and loosens his tie. “This would’ve been easier if you were a messy drunk,” he mutters.

She doesn’t hear him—or she does and chooses to ignore it.

“Like... you come home with blood on your knuckles and that haunted look in your eyes,” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded but too bright. “And I just... hate how much I care. How that blood could belong to someone else's husband but it doesn't matter as long as you’re home. How I watch the door like it’s supposed to explain why you’re late and hope karma hasn't caught up with you.”

He glances at her, jaw tight. “Y/n, maybe sleep it off, yeah?”

But she keeps going, unspooling like a ribbon caught in wind.

“I always tell myself I chose this. You. But I didn’t, not really. I couldn’t have chosen anyone else. I've never wanted anyone like I want you and there's not many that would be ok with the things you do. That’s the worst part.” She gives a breathless laugh. “You were inevitable. We were inevitable.”

Shuji grips the steering wheel harder than necessary. The city lights blur past. “Almost home,” he says, like that’ll fix any of this.

She shifts in her seat to rest her head on his shoulder. That warm, gooey feeling claws at his throat like bile. He clears it and loosens his tie a little more.

Getting her through the penthouse door feels like navigating a dream where everything’s too soft and slow.

“You’re so handsome, it’s stupid,” she says with a crooked smile. “You do terrible things, but you’ve got great bone structure. And good dick.”

He snorts despite himself. “Thanks, I guess.”

She flops onto the edge of the bed. He kneels in front of her, tugging at the straps of her heels, then moves up to start unclasping her jewelry. She tilts her head, watching him with the kind of fondness that guts him.

“You always do this,” she whispers.

“Do what?” he asks, trying to gently remove her eyeliner and mascara.

She doesn't speak right away but runs a hand through his hair. “Pretend you’re not soft,” she says, lips curving. “But when I fall asleep on the couch after waiting up for you or after a long day you remove my earrings before bed and wipe my makeup off like an artist detailing a painting.”

He pauses, cloth in hand, and meets her eyes.

“You don’t know what I am,” he says softly.

She leans forward, brushing her forehead to his. “I do. You only tell me you love me when you’re intoxicated or balls deep in me, but you love me all the time. You get anxious when I tell you that I love you. You’re not good with feelings because you choose not to be, it’s easier not to feel.” 

The words land harder than he expects, settling somewhere in his ribs. He doesn’t respond. He just wipes at the corner of her mouth with the cloth, like that makes him harder to read. Then he gets her into one of his T-shirts, tucks her in like she’s something delicate and borrowed.

“You stress me out,” she murmurs as he pulls the blankets up.

“Yeah?” he mutters, trying not to feel the words too deep but he’s not used to being someone who matters enough to hurt someone. Especially not like this.

“You make me scared,” she continues, voice quiet, lashes brushing her cheeks. “Of not knowing. Of losing. Of caring this much.”

He sits beside her, his long fingers tracing shapes on her arm.

“I don't mean to,” he says, guilt blooming in his chest.

“I know.” She yawns. “That’s why I’m still here.” 

She’s asleep ten minutes later.

Shuji watches her breathe. Watches the rise and fall of her chest, the small crease in her brow that doesn’t go away even in dreams. He smooths the line out with his thumb and exhales.

“You’re not the only one scared, y’know.”

But she’s already gone, lost to sleep.

He lies down beside her, facing the ceiling, listening to the same silence she fell asleep to. Inevitable, she said. He doesn’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. But he knows she’s right.

[m00nofplut0]

Drunk Dial

Hanma Shuji x Reader (Y/n) gender neutral

NSFW | Smut

This takes place during the early relationship phase.

Hanma Shuji shuffled into his penthouse, the weight of the day dragging down his shoulders like lead. Work had been a shitshow from the jump—meetings, tension, and enough bullshit politics to make his head throb. He kicked off his shoes and spotted a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the mini bar. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

What he really wanted was Y/n.

But he couldn’t dump all this on them. Not again. So he drank instead.

Each gulp only sharpened the ache for them. Their arms around him. Their lips on his. Their voice—soft and sweet, whispering things that always made his blood rush south. He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing them beneath him. Their legs wrapped around his waist. Their skin against his.

By the time he opened his eyes, his cock was straining against his trousers, painful and insistent. He groaned and unbuttoned his pants, the pressure easing just enough to make things worse. The friction from his boxers made his hips jerk.

“Fuck,” he hissed, yanking them down and wrapping his hand around himself. His grip was too tight. Then too loose. The rhythm was off. Nothing felt right.

He needed them. Not just their body—their voice, their touch. The way they looked at him when it was just the two of them and everything else faded out.

Then a flash of inspiration. He grabbed his phone, pulling up their photo album. It didn’t take long to find the picture. The one that always got him going—Y/n, barely dressed, eyes just for him. He groaned low in his chest, hips twitching in time with the heat building in his gut.

But something was missing.

Their voice.

He hit their contact without thinking. It rang, then clicked to voicemail—just like he knew it would. They were always leaving their phone on silent, buried somewhere in another room.

“This is Y/n. I'm sorry to miss your call, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

He inhaled through his teeth, picking up the pace. “Hi, pretty thing,” he slurred, voice low and rough. “Wish you were here. Wish I could feel you. Hear those sounds you make.” He groaned. “Need to hear you, fuck…”

He hung up, only to call again.

“This is Y/n. I'm sorry to miss your call…”

“Shit,” he muttered, jerking faster. “Love you, y’know that? You’re so fuckin’ pretty. You smell so good… taste even better. God, I wanna taste you.” His words spilled out between ragged breaths. “Wanna hear you say my name.”

Click. Redial.

“This is Y/n…”

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned. “You got no idea what you do to me.” His voice broke, his hand a blur. Skin slapping against skin echoed in the quiet apartment—reminders of past nights tangled up in sheets with them. Those memories shoved him over the edge. His body jerked, release crashing through him with a rough moan.

He let the phone slip from his hand, heart racing, skin flushed. After a clumsy cleanup job with a handful of tissues, the whiskey and the afterglow knocked him out cold right there on the couch—still in his damn suit, pants half-open, body heavy with exhaustion.

---

A blinding headache clawed through Shuji’s skull when he came to. He blinked against the dull sunlight bleeding in through the blinds. His mouth was dry, and his head was pounding like a war drum.

What the hell happened last night?

Then it hit him.

The drinking. The jerking off. Calling them over and over just to hear their voicemail.

His heart dropped. He fumbled for his phone, praying for mercy, only to find a single message waiting for him.

Y/n: Call me.

“Fuck.” He smacked a palm to his forehead and immediately regretted it.

He tapped their name and brought the phone to his ear. It only rang twice.

Before they could say anything, he jumped in. “Shit, I’m so sorry—”

A soft laugh came from the other end. “Shuji, it’s okay.”

He shook his head, wincing. “No, that was... it was weird. I was drunk and—”

“Shuji.” Their voice cut in, quieter this time. “I… I kinda liked it.”

He blinked. “You liked it?”

“Yeah. I mean… it was hot.” They paused, then added, “And I know you meant what you said, you always get too honest when you drink.”

Heat crept up the back of his neck. They weren’t wrong. That’s exactly why he rarely let himself get that wasted.

“You know,” they said, voice lighter now, “if you're up for it, you could come over. I’ll make you my hangover cure.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest—foreign but welcome. This kind of love still felt new. But damn, he was hooked.

“I’m on my way,” he said, already standing and heading for the shower.

[m00nofplut0]

Part 3: Burnout

Hanma Shuji x Reader (Y/n) gender neutral

Angst

Mental Health Trigger Warning

Please read my Hanma Shuji headcanon/origin story and Part 1: A Safe Place to Crash and Part 2: Unraveling before reading to get full context.

Following the events of Y/n suggesting Shuji see a psychiatrist, they apologize and voice their respect for his choice. After that, everything goes back to usual.

Two Months Later

The shift is subtle at first. Shuji starts staying up later, his energy seemingly boundless. At first, Y/n welcomes it—relieved to see him animated and engaged after his last depressive episode. They spend nights talking, laughing, and rediscovering their intimacy. But soon, it becomes clear that something is off. His energy doesn’t wane; instead, it builds, an almost frantic edge creeping into his every movement.

Week One

His restlessness escalates. He becomes insatiable, his touch lingering, his desire unquenchable. Any moment alone becomes an opportunity for intimacy, his need for them bordering on obsessive. Y/n tries to keep up, but exhaustion weighs them down.

“Shuji, we need to sleep,” they plead one night, pushing against his persistent hands.

He laughs, eyes gleaming with an intensity that makes their stomach twist. “Sleep? When there’s so much we could be doing?” He trails kisses down their neck.

Week Two

Shuji starts disappearing at night, returning only at dawn, reeking of cigarettes, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood. His knuckles are raw, his body buzzing with an energy he can’t seem to burn off.

“Where do you go?” Y/n asks one morning as he slips into bed beside them, his skin cool against theirs.

He smirks. “Out. Keeping things interesting.”

They gently take his hand, running their fingers over his bruised knuckles. “You’re hurting yourself.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s worth making sure people get what they deserve.”

Week Three

His mood swings become more unpredictable. He’s irritable, snapping over trivial things, but at the same time, he clings to them, seeking solace in their presence even as he pushes them away.

“Shuji, you need to eat something,” they urge, placing a plate in front of him.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters, pushing it away.

They sigh but don’t argue. Instead, they listen as he rambles about his latest escapades, discreetly handing him slices of apple, which he eats unconsciously.

One night, they try a different approach. “How about we watch that movie you like?” they suggest, hoping to get him to slow down, even for a little while.

He eyes them warily but agrees, collapsing onto the couch beside them. They lean into him, hoping he’ll stay still for just a little longer.

Week Four

The sleepless nights take their toll. Y/n finds him in the bathroom one night, staring at his reflection, eyes bloodshot and pupils blown wide.

“Shuji,” they call softly, stepping forward. “Come to bed.”

He turns to them with a manic grin. “Aw, is that your way of seducing me? It’s a bit forward, but you know I like it when you use your words.”

They sigh, cupping his face in their hands. “You’re burning yourself out.”

He laughs, the sound hollow. “Better to burn out than fade away, right?” He kisses them, his passion pouring out like a raging waterfall. Gripping their hips almost painfully, he backs them into the hallway and against the wall. They let him, hoping their touch can anchor him, even just a little. He picks them up and carries them to bed for another long night.

Week Five

His energy wanes. The fire dims. Slowly, his body succumbs to exhaustion. He sleeps for hours rather than minutes. Y/n watches over him, brushing their fingers through his tousled hair.

When he finally wakes, his eyes are clearer, the wildness replaced by weary clarity.

“Hey,” he rasps, reaching for their hand.

“Hey,” they reply, squeezing his fingers gently.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, guilt shadowing his features.

They smile softly. “Just rest, Shuji. We’ll get through this together.”

Later that evening, they come home to an unfamiliar smell. Following the scent, they find him in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.

“You’re cooking?” they ask, surprised.

He glances up, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Figured it’s about time I did something nice for you. It’s Grandma’s recipe. Thought you might like it.”

Tears well in their eyes as they step forward, wrapping their arms around him from behind. “I’ve missed you,” they whisper.

He turns, pulling them into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into their hair. “For everything.”

They stand there, holding each other, the scent of the simmering meal wrapping around them. Then, Shuji clears his throat. “And I think I’m ready to see a doctor.”

Y/n pulls back, eyes wide with shock. He shifts uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at them.

They cup his face in their hands and kiss him. “I know you don’t like the sappy stuff, but I am so proud of you.”

He groans, rolling his eyes as he turns back to the stove. “Yeah, whatever. Just tired of you nagging me.” He glances at them over his shoulder. “You know you’re gonna have to help me find a doctor, right? I got no idea where to start with that shit—I don’t even have a regular doctor.”

They smirk. “I figured.” They brush a stray hair out of his face. “As long as you get the help you need, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

[m00nofplut0]

Part 2: Unraveling

Hanma Shuji x Reader (Y/n) gender neutral

Angst

Mental Heath Trigger Warnings

Please read my Hanma Shuji headcanon/origin story and Part 1: A Safe Place to Crash before reading this to get full context.

It’s been a week since Shuji’s depressive episode.

The air between them is thick. Shuji sits at the edge of the couch, face lifeless as he scrolls through his phone. Y/n lingers in the doorway, words caught on their tongue. Moments like this feel like walking barefoot over glass.  

"Shuji," they say quietly. "I think... maybe it's time to talk to someone. A doctor. Get some help."  

He doesn’t look at them. "I'm not sick."  

Y/n steps closer, perching on the armrest across from him. "It's not about being sick. It's about understanding what's happening. Having support when things get bad. Maybe a psychiatrist-"  

Shuji's head jerks up, his eyes sharp as they bore into Y/n. "I'm not going to a shrink. I hate them."  

Y/n blinks, caught off guard. "How do you know? Have you ever been to one?"  

The calm shatters. Shuji shoots to his feet, fists clenched. His breath is ragged. "No, but I know enough!" His voice cracks, raw. "Sorry if I don't want to talk to someone who killed my mom!"  

The words hit like a slap. Y/n’s throat tightens. "What... what are you talking about?"  

He paces, raking his hands through his hair, eyes darting like he's searching for a way out. "She died because of them! And he left me with her!" His voice breaks, sharp and frantic, before dropping to a bitter laugh. "Because he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle me."  

Y/n opens their mouth, but he’s gone, lost in memories.  

"Shuji..." they try, their voice soft. Y/n notices the tremble in his hands.  

Then, just as fast, the storm is gone. He grabs his jacket, snatching his cigarettes from the counter. "I need a smoke." he mutters, voice hoarse.

Before they can stop him, he’s out the door. It slams shut behind him.  

Y/n stands there, stunned. They press a hand to their chest, steadying their breath. His words echo in their mind, broken pieces of a puzzle they don’t know how to solve.  

Eventually, they sink into a chair. The silence is heavy. They sit there for what feels like hours, replaying everything. His mom. His dad. The past he never talks about.  

Finally, knowing there's no point in waiting, they go to bed alone.  

—  

In the morning, the couch is a mess. Cushions askew, a pillow at one end, a blanket tossed over the side. A makeshift bed. He must have come back late, avoiding their shared space.  

That afternoon, Y/n stands at Alma's doorstep, a bouquet of flowers in hand. The older woman greets them with warmth, dark eyes soft as she ushers them inside. She presses a hand to her cheek bashfully as she accepts the flowers, smiling gently. "Ay, you spoil me," she says, her Spanish accent wrapping around the words lyrically.  

The house smells of coffee and spices. Alma gestures toward the seating area. "Come, sit. We will drink and talk, hm?"  

They settle in with steaming cups. Small talk flows, easy and familiar, but it doesn't last. Y/n can’t hold back for long.  

Alma senses it. She sets her cup down, fingers brushing the rim as if steadying herself. Her dark eyes fix on Y/n. "So. What did you come to talk about, dear?"  

Y/n stares at the table. "I don’t mean to pry, but... can I ask about your daughter? About Shuji’s mom?"  

A long silence stretches. Alma takes a breath, tracing the edge of her cup.  

"He’s started having episodes, hasn’t he?" she asks softly.  

Y/n hesitates, then nods. "I told him he should see a psychiatrist. He... freaked out. Said, ‘She died because of them.’ I figured he meant his mom. He’s never told me anything. Not about her. Not about his dad."  

Alma’s face dims, her gaze distant. Her fingers tremble slightly as she lifts her coffee, but she sets it down without taking a drink.  

"Yuka was... complicated," she says, voice heavy. "She was—cómo se dice, maja—friendly, warm, witty....then sometimes she wasn't. She struggled, more than we realized. And she refused help for too long. She was afraid of being labeled, afraid of being seen as broken."  

She presses a hand to her chest, sorrow deep in the gesture. "In my culture, it's hard to ask for help."  

Y/n listens, heart sinking.  

"When she finally sought help, it was already... too late. She was put on medication, but it wasn’t enough. She was scared, Y/n. Scared of what was happening to her. Scared for Shuji. She didn’t trust the doctors. Said they didn’t understand her. And in the end..."  

She looks away, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief.  

"Shuji blames the doctors. Blames himself. But mostly, he blames his father. His father left him because he couldn’t cope with losing Yuka. And Shuji resented him for it. Still does."  

Y/n swallows, their chest tight with the weight of it all.  

"I just want to help him," they whisper.  

Alma offers a sad, knowing smile. "Be patient, dear. He doesn’t know how to ask for help. He never learned."  

And Y/n understands. Why Shuji pushes them away. Why he fights them when they try to help. Why his past is a locked door with the key buried deep inside a grave he refuses to dig up.  

But they aren’t going to leave.  

Not now. Not ever.  

They will be patient. And they will be there when he’s ready. 

Part 1

Part 3

[m00nofplut0]

Hanma Shuji headcanon/origin story

This ties into my Hanma Shuji theory

!Mental Health Trigger Warning!

Dark Content Below

Hanma Shuji’s father is Hanma Kensuke, and his mother is Hanma-Kaneko Yuka. His grandmother, Kaneko-Velasco Alma, was born in Spain, where she met Shuji’s grandfather, Kaneko Hideaki, a Japanese chef studying abroad. Despite language barriers, they fell in love, and Alma followed Hideaki to Japan, where they opened a restaurant and had Yuka in 1967.

Yuka was a creative and mathematically gifted child, excelling in fine arts and tutoring peers. She met Kensuke while helping him with math, and their relationship blossomed. Kensuke, raised under his strict lawyer father, followed the expected path into law despite resenting the pressure. Yuka pursued acting, securing small roles, but her mood swings, later recognized as bipolar disorder, became more noticeable.

After moving in together, Yuka became pregnant in early 1989, forcing her to abandon acting for waitressing. Kensuke, working under his father, became bitter under the strain. Yuka’s mental health declined postpartum; she obsessed over Shuji’s safety and later suffered worsening episodes. When Shuji was twelve, he was the one to find her unconscious due the an attempt on her own life. She died before paramedics arrived. That day changed Shuji forever.

Struggling to cope, Kensuke relied on Alma and Hideaki to help care for Shuji while Kensuke was working. Eventually Kensuke ended up leaving Shuji with his grandparents permanently. Shuji, avoided being home because that house reminded him too much of his mom. At sixteen he began showing mild signs of having bipolar disorder but it went unnoticed by his grandparents due to his frequent absence from home. During hypomanic and manic episodes, he roamed the streets, enacting his own form of justice—hence his "sin" and "punishment" tattoos. He concealed his involvement with gang life from his grandparents expertly. He eventually moves out on his own, or leaves because he is running from the law, depends on the timeline.

Extra: In time lines that he's not a fugitive, he visits his grandmother and brings her flower---he also offers to do the more difficult housework tasks for her. When he becoming a fugitive and visited that restaurant it was is grandfathers.

[m00nofplut0]

Part 1: A Safe Place to Crash

Hanma Shuji x reader (gender natural)

Angst | Smut-ish | Fluff

Mental Health Trigger Warning Shuji has bipolar and his partner is seeing him in a depressive episode for the first time since they've lived together. Pleas read my Hanma Shuji headcanon/origin story for full context.

“Shuji, come on! I've got to wash the bedding. Get up!” Y/n says in exasperation, pulling at the sheets Shuji is stubbornly holding hostage.

He grumbles and pulls them back, causing Y/n to stumble forward. Peering down at him, they notice how pale and sickly he looks.

They place a hand on his forehead to check for a fever, but before they can even register his temperature, Shuji is already swatting it away with a groan of annoyance. They crouch down to his level. “Shuji, are you feeling alright? You've been abnormally sleepy the past few days.”

One of his amber eyes cracks open. “I'm fine, just tired.” The clipped tone to his words strikes them as odd. Sure, he teases and is sarcastic, but he's not mean—not to them anyway.

Y/n brushes a few loose strands of hair out of his face, smoothing over the darkened skin under his eyes. He doesn't push them away; instead, he hums in satisfaction and takes hold of their wrist to keep them in place. They kiss his forehead. “Shuji, if you get up and let me wash the damn sheets, I'll…”

Shuji’s eyes pop open, his eyebrows raise. “You’ll…?”

With a sigh, they continue. “...I’ll give you head.”

Then the most bizarre thing happens—Shuji doesn't immediately jump at the offer like he usually would. The bastard is sitting there thinking it over.

He’s biting at the inside of his mouth in concentration, looking down at his thin fingers as they fidget with the bed sheets. “Ok,” he finally looks up at them. “Deal.”

He slowly rises from the bed and allows them to remove the sheets. The second they collect all the bedding in their arms, he flops back onto the bed, his long legs draping over the side. “You’ll get your prize once the wash is running.”

He gives them a content hum and a sleepy smile.

As Y/n loads the washing machine, they can't help but think how odd Shuji is acting. He's not exactly a morning person but usually has no problem getting up when it's time—there are nights where he only gets a couple of hours of rest before getting up for work and having little to no problem doing so.

“Maybe it really is just a cold or possibly all the late nights and early mornings catching up to him.”

With the sheets in the wash, they move on to the next task. Shuji is still sprawled out on the bed. Y/n studies him in this vulnerable state, Hello Kitty pajama pants and an old band T-shirt. They lay down next to him, and he turns his head toward them with a lazy smirk on his pale face. True to their word, they initiate the act of making good on their promise. They kiss his chapped lips, and he grips their waist, pulling them closer. Their lips make their way across his stubble down to his neck, giving each of his special spots attention. As Y/n teases him, they work on freeing their next target from the confines of his pants, only pulling them down enough to give them access.

Abandoning their assault on his neck, they give him one last kiss on the lips before repositioning themselves. Their hand moves to touch him, but he’s still soft—this being the same man that usually gets an erection from simply seeing them change clothes. Y/n gets to work doing everything he likes, and by now, on any other day, they would have his toes curling and eyes rolling, but he’s not even hard yet.

He groans and sits up. Y/n pulls away, lifting their head toward him. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No.” The defeated tone in his voice is rare and mildly concerning.

“I can take my shirt off if you think tha—”

“Forget it.” He flops back on the mattress, crossing his arms over his face as if to hide.

Y/n rises from their place and readjusts Shuji’s pants before going to lay beside him. They nudge the side of his face with their nose. “It’s okay, you know. It happens to the best of men.”

He scoffs. “Fuck off, don’t patronize me.” A small bite replaces the humor his words usually have.

They flick him in the arm. “Hey, don't get an attitude with me, it’s not my fault.”

He shuffles around to pull his pants up the rest of the way before circling his arms around their waist and pulling them to lay half on top of him. “I know it’s not.” He kisses their forehead. His words sound sad and bitter, but not at them. They can tell that much.

It’s quiet for a while before they notice that his breathing has evened out. They sit up to see his eyes closed and lips parted slightly.

—

They let it slide for a day or two, figuring he might really just be exhausted. But soon, it became clear this wasn't just exhaustion. It wasn’t just a bad mood. It was something deeper, something heavier. He wasn’t just tired; he was retreating. The sharp wit, the sarcasm, the cocky smirk—fading. In their place were short answers, blank stares, and a restlessness that had him tossing and turning for hours before passing out midday and sleeping till dark.

And when they tried to help, he fought them.

"Babe, eat something," they coax, setting a plate of his favorite food in front of him.

"Not hungry," Shuji replies, barely looking at it.

"You haven't eaten all day. Just a little."

He exhales sharply, sitting up just enough to shoot them a glare. "I said I'm not hungry. Why do you always gotta push?" The edge to his voice causes a flare of anger in Y/n but they let it die down.

They sigh, stepping back, but they don't leave. They wouldn’t leave. He wanted to wallow, to disappear into the mess of blankets and cigarette smoke like he would if he were alone, but they weren’t about to let that happen.

It got worse before it got better.

Some days, he barely spoke. Other days, he clung to them like they were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. One night, they woke up to find him gripping the back of their shirt like he was afraid they’d vanish. They turned carefully in his arms, running their fingers through his messy hair. He relaxed a little but never let go.

They let him have that.

What Y/n didn’t let him have was skipping showers. Every other day, they dragged him out of bed, ignoring the complaints, the grumbling, the half-hearted attempts to shake them off.

"I don’t need a damn babysitter," he muttered, but he still let them pull him into the bathroom.

"Then stop acting like a stubborn child and wash up," they shot back, arms crossed.

He scowled, but they caught the ghost of a smirk before they shifted their focus to turning on the water. Lucky for them he wasn't in the state of mind to make co-showering into anything more than them helping him get clean.

They watched him disappear into himself, the weight of his own mind pressing down on him, making even simple things feel impossible. But they stayed, offering small reassurances in the form of gentle touches, quiet company, and unwavering patience.

Then, little by little, he started coming back.

First, it was sitting up more. Then, staying awake longer. Then, one day, they came home to find him sprawled out on the couch instead of buried in bed—there was even a half empty bag of chips on the coffee table. He didn’t say anything, just lifted his arm in invitation. They curled up next to him without a word, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Then came the first night he willingly joined them for dinner. He didn’t eat much, just picked at the food, but he was there, sitting across from them, engaging in conversation even if his responses were short. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

And then, one evening while they were watching a movie, he broke the silence completely.

"Wanna go out this weekend?"

They blinked, caught off guard. "Like...out out?"

"Yeah. Like a date." He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting away. "Figured I should make it up to you. For being a total pain in the ass."

They grinned, warmth spreading in their chest. "Damn right, you should."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. And when they leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, he didn’t pull away. He just sighed against their mouth and pulled them closer, holding on to them with gentle hands.

By the time the weekend came, he was the one pulling them along, insisting on picking the place. He still wasn’t back to a hundred percent, but there was something in his eyes that told them he was trying. And for now, that was enough.

Part 2

Hanma Shuji headcanon/origin story

[m00nofplut0]

My Everything

Ryusui x Y/n (gender neutral reader) angst to fluff

Y/n crosses the courtyard of the Kingdom of Science, their sharp eyes narrowing as they fall upon Ryusui. He’s leaning casually against the stone railing, his golden hair catching the sunlight like strands of silk. Beside him stands a girl Y/n doesn’t recognize, giggling at something he says, nudging his arm playfully—Ryusui doesn't pull away.

The scene churns unease in their chest, gnawing at their insecurities. 

Everyone warned me, didn’t they? Ryusui’s greed knows no bounds, money, oil, clothes, the moon, the stars, the sea, the land, and the attention of anyone willing to give it.

Y/n forces themself to turn away, their jaw tight. “What an idiot,” they mutter under their breath, quickening their steps before Ryusui can notice them.

For the next few days, Y/n keeps their distance. They busy themself with work, training with Kohaku, or helping Senku with experiments. Ryusui tries to approach them several times, but they always manage to slip away, their heart aching with each avoidance.

Finally, Ryusui corners them in the workshop, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Y/n, what in the world is going on with you?”

They glance at him before returning to their task. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He bends down to catch their eye. “You’ve been avoiding me for days.”

They finally face him, crossing their arms. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” He scoffs, stepping closer. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You’ve been running from me. Now, tell me what I could have possibly done wrong.”

Y/n hesitates, their resolve wavering under the intensity of his gaze, but they steal themself. “I’m surprised you even noticed. I thought you’d be too busy entertaining your new… friend.” they said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Ryusui blinks, momentarily thrown off. “What friend?”

“The girl in the courtyard.” Their voice sharpens, each word laced with the jealousy they try to suppress. “The pretty redhead—bats her eyes a lot—wears low cut dresses, doesn’t understand personal space.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You mean Holly? She asked about the boat, you know I can't ignore questions about boats.”

Y/n scoffs, their nails digging into their palms. “Yes, I am aware of your lack of self control.”

Ryusui sighs, his expression hardens. “Oh, come off it, you’re being unreasonable. I would never cheat on you, Y/n.”

Anger coursing like a flame through their veins. “Unreasonable!?” Y/n slams the notebook they were using closed. “This coming from the man who wants everything and everyone, forgive me for thinking fidelity might be difficult for you!” 

He flinches at their words, anger flaring in his eyes. “You think so little of me?! We were just talking, Y/n!”

The feeling of being belittled and dismissed becomes too much as they stand there alone under his gaze. “I think,” they say, their voice trembling, “that… that I can’t do this right now!”

They storm past him, their heart shattering at the sound of his voice calling after them.

---

The next day, Y/n devises a plan to get even and hopefully teach him a lesson, make him understand how they felt with some first hand experience.

Y/n and Kohaku sit beside each other near the training grounds waiting for the signal from Amaryllis.

Kohaku leans towards Y/n. “Are you really going to go through with this?”

“Yup.” Y/n smirks.

Kohaku shakes her head, though a grin tugs at her lips. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good.”

Y/n sees Amaryllis give the signal.

They get up and walk over to Kinro while he’s practising spear moves on a target. “Hey, can I train with you today?”

He seems taken aback but recovers quickly. “Yes, of course. It is the duty of a trained guard to instruct those wishing to learn defence.”

Y/n and Kinro begin their training—they already know how to fight but Kinro doesn't need to know that.

When Ryusui approaches the training grounds soon after they begin, he stops dead in his tracks.

Y/n can feel Ryusui’s gaze burning into them, but they pretend not to notice. Their voice is sweet, almost saccharine. “Kinro, can you help me with my stance, it doesn't feel right?”

“Alright,” Kinro replies, his tone flat but polite.

He stands behind Y/n, guiding their feet apart and positioning their arms.

Ryusui strides toward them. “Y/n.”

They finally look at him, their expression feigning innocence. “Oh, Ryusui.” they turn to face him, “Shouldn’t you be off talking to Holly about boats or something.”

His smile is tight, his voice low. “Let's go have a little chat over there,” he points to an empty tent far away from prying eyes and ears, “Now.”

Ryusui pulls them aside, his grip firm. Y/n drops their spear in front of a stunned looking Kinro.

Kinro steps forward immediately, his grip firm on his spear. “Ryusui,” he says, his voice low and measured, “release them. Now.” His golden-brown eyes narrow, the weight of his duty evident in his stance. “I will escalate this if I have to.”

Y/n halts their steps and glances over their shoulder, touched by Kinro’s concern. They shake their head, “It’s fine, Kinro,” They say, their voice steady despite the turmoil in their chest. “But thank you.” They offer him a strained smile.

Kinro relaxes his stance and nods his understanding. Y/n and Ryusui continue walking towards the tent.

When they reach their destination Ryusui spins them around to face him. His eyes blaze with anger and something deeper—something raw and vulnerable. “Is this some kind of scheme to make me angry, am I right?”

“What do you mean?” Y/n asks, tilting their head. “I just asked Kinro about training, you know he can’t ignore a question about training.”

He scoffs. “It looked like a lot more than just talking to me! What did you think you’re doing letting him touch you like that?!” His voice sharpens, his frustration boiling over.

A mirthless laugh breaks through them. “Oh yeah, what about when Holly was feeling you up?! What were you doing letting her touch you!?”

His eyes roll in annoyance. “She didn’t feel me up, she barely even touched my arm! I don’t see what the big deal is about her and I simply talking!” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

Their composure cracks, their voice rising. “The big deal is that you didn’t pull away!” A little sob breaks through their words. “Do you know how hard it is to love someone like you, Ryusui? To feel like you’re enough for someone that always wants more? And then to be called unreasonable for being a little insecure.”

Ryusui freezes, mouth open in shock, the weight of their words hitting him like a wave. “Y/n…”

They hold up a finger to stop him talking. “Don’t,” With a shaky breath, they can feel their anger giving way to the pain they’ve been hiding. “I know I should have talked to you about it instead of avoiding you, but you make it so difficult sometimes. You have no idea how hard it is to feel special to someone that wants everything?”

There’s a deep sadness in his eyes, they start to feel guilty for being the one to put it there.

Ryusui steps closer. “Y/n,” he cups their face in his hands, “you are my everything.”

They look up at him, a few stray tears escape their eyes. “It doesn't feel that way.”

Ryusui wipes their tears away with his thumb. “I know I'm not good at relationship stuff yet, but I promise I am trying. Everyone before you only cared about the money, the status. This is new to me, but I promise I’ll do better. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone, more than I thought I could love anything. You’re the first person that I can remember who really loves me.” he kisses their cheek, “I’m still learning, I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected. I will do better, I promise.”

Their heart aches at the sincerity in his voice, but they hold his gaze, searching for any hint of deception—and find none.

“I love you too,” they whisper, their voice trembling.

He kisses their forehead. “And I think you were right about Holly,” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t notice at first—I got tunnel vision about the boat when we were talking—but I see it now. I’m sorry. I’ll never talk to her again.”

“Maybe I should practice sparring with her next,” Y/n mutters darkly.

Ryusui grins, leaning in. “You’d obliterate her in seconds, my love. And as charming as ‘accomplice to murder’ sounds, I’d rather avoid that title. Am I wrong?”

“You are very much correct.”

Ryusui chuckles. He holds them closer, giving the top of their head a kiss. “What do you think about going back to my place?”

Y/n nods their head vigorously. “I would like that.” They pull away enough to look him in the eyes. “You’ve got some apologizing to do,” they say, a devious smile tugging at their lips.

[bittysuguru]

THINKING about men who’d come untouched.

ones who’ve had more than a couple of wet dreams about you, dreams they’d never confess to.

kissing you for the first time feels like they’re 12 again, reliving that dizzying discovery of pleasure, like when they first learned how to touch themselves.

they’re starving for you, slipping their tongue into your mouth as if trying to devour every bit of you, pulling you closer until your clothed front brushes against their aching hardness.

one needy moan of their name, and they’re gone—ruined without even needing a touch.

they’ll never admit it, but you're so irresistible that they can't help but cum untouched.

TOJI, SUKUNA, GOJO, GETO, NANAMI,22 MEGUMI, EREN, KEISUKE, DABI, TACHIHARA, DAZAI, CHUUYA, FYODOR, ANGO, ODA, AKUTAGAWA, TENGEN, SANEMI, SEBASTIAN + YOUR FAVS!!

[acrid-wondrland]

TokyoRev Headcanons on Hyper Specific Talents They Have

---

🐈‍⬛️Chifuyu is one of the top Pokemon TCG players

🚚Kisaki can stack cups really fast like those cup stacking champions

💤Ran can guess what language someone is speaking with 80% accuracy even though he can't speak it.

🚬Hanma knows how to fix Pachinko machines specifically.

🔴⚪️Kakucho can cook something nearly identical if he tries it once.

💊Sanzu can draw a perfect circle in one go.

🐉Draken can rap really fast.

💴Koko can memorize the way somewhere just by looking at a map for a few seconds.

🔥Inupi can make his voice sound convincingly like a girl.

🚹Hakkai can bend himself backwards into a near perfect circle and grab his ankles with his hands.

🥋Wakasa can hold his breath for almost 5 minutes straight.

🎧Rindou can do the slickback perfectly

🇧🇷South is weirdly lucky at betting on horse races.

🔐Mikey can wiggle his ears.

🎴Izana can inhale his drinks so fast it looks almost instantaneous.

🧛‍♀️Baji is really good at and can do some crazy parkour.

---

What about urs 👀

[rirabeko]

Some of Baji's mischaracterization that gives me the ICK

It's 2024 and there are people out there who still can't understand Baji's character and mischaracterize him heavily, mostly because of the Bajifuyu ship.

DISCLAIMER: You can ship whoever you want. I'm just tired of seeing my favourite character constantly being mischaracterized because of toxic shippers. Also I'm not a shipper myself, I do not romanticize any of the relationships I mention below.

The biggest issue with Baji's character is the fact that Bajifuyu shippers (and sometimes just the fandom in general) constantly ignore Kazutora's role in Baji's life, meanwhile Kazutora made a huge impact on Baji's character. You can clearly see it not just in the anime or in the manga, but in the spin-off too.

Baji and Kazutora were that duo, they were a literal separated team within Toman. They met naturally, become friends instantly and spent most of their time together (many times without Toman). It's accepted by the fandom, that Kazutora's first real friend was Baji, but also Baji's first close friend was Kazutora.

Obviously Mikey and Baji were close as kids, but after Baji moved to a different place they weren't that close. I bet this is the reason why Baji didn't know about Shinichiro's bike shop, since when they met regularly Baji was a little kid and Shinichiro was a teenager without a bike shop. It also shows that Mikey and Baji aren't that close, they are more like childhood buddies than close friends.

I can talk about this for hours but now I only wrote it as a small disclaimer, before I get into my points, so let's go.

I am sick of it when:

they call Baji stupid (he literally outsmarted Kisaki, being smart not equals only book smart)

people headcanon him as a mean, aggressive, abusive bf (he is canonly no.1 best lover and he literally died because he has a heart of gold, let this bs go pls)

they can't understand the reason behind his suicide and make it a ship war (ICK)

people can't accept the fact Baji loves his friends differently, and not everyone is his bestie (it doesn't mean he does not love them, or prefers someone over the other but love can be different towards different people and it's absolutely normal!)

they make his character all about Bajifuyu (he is an individual, stop bringing up Chifuyu EVERYTIME when it comes to Baji. His character is much more than a guy in a dominant-submissive fanmade yaoi ship people like dragging him into!)

they make Chifuyu the good, perfect friend while constantly dragging Baji down and made him the bad guy in their relationship (I could write a whole essay just about this being a bullshit)

when they romanticize Bajifuyu (Baji canonly sees Chifuyu as a younger brother figure said by Baji's mom, but there are people out there who still believes unironically that they are in love... WHY?)

they ignore that Baji is very caring and affectionate not just towards Chifuyu, he is like this because these are his own personality traits. He behaves like this with everyone who's close to him. (Mikey, Kazutora, Ryuusei and just Toman in general)

people say Chifuyu was the only one who understood Baji's feelings and aims (the literal reason Baji died was because no one really understood his goals and behaviour, not even Chifuyu)

they romanticize Chifuyu's obsessiveness towards Baji (if Chifuyu was a girl, he would be cancelled for this behaviour immediately, but the double standard won again)

people make his death an opportunity to romanticize Bajifuyu (biggest ICK)

they say Baji is only distant with Chifuyu beacuse he is a tsundere (there are so many situations when Chifuyu truly annoys Baji, e.g. he said it many times that Chifuyu's infatuation really disturbs him and asked Chifuyu to stop)

Bajifuyu shippers ignore and hate Kazutora just because he disturbs their ship

they say Baji was a bad influence to Kazutora (Kazutora hung out with gangs even before he met Baji, he was already a part of the underworld. the reason Kazutora turned out that way was his abusive father and his horrible childhood in general. Baji literally saved him, and he could finally be himself around Baji without any judgement or harassment)

they ignore or even DENY Bajitora's bond because of Bajifuyu

they accept Bajifuyu, Kazufuyu or even the Bajitrio but HATE Bajitora (the biggest bullshit ever)

they can't recognise the fanservice of Bajifuyu and calls them canon because of the clear fanservice acts

people think Bajitora is one sided (more Baji sided) meanwhile Tora loves Baji more than his own life and shows it many times how much he loves Baji and how much Baji means to him

they accept that Chifuyu never changed his hairstyle after Baji made it for him (and obviously they romanticize it) but they are hating because Kazutora looked exactly like Baji in bad toman timeline

people ignore Bajitora and always forgets that they are very close to each other in every timeline. the new panels Wakui drew were also about Kazutora putting Chifuyu to his place after Chifuyu completly ignored Tora and disturbed his time with his best friend. (we all know Kazutora is very possessive with Baji for obvious reasons and does not tolerate being disrespected by someone)

The list could go on and on but these are the main problems I still see in this fandom when it comes to Baji's character.

I'm tired of seeing this amazingly well-written character turns into a boring, abusive, mean guy by the fandom who is only an abuser in a toxic fanmade yaoi ship.

SIDE NOTE:

To all the people who dislike him/call him mean and aggressive because he beat Chifuyu up:

This anime is based on a manga which takes place in the early 2000's gangster world in Japan. He is the captain of the 1st division, he is the leader, and his role is not just to be the strongest in the division but also to manage his team, bc this is also what a leader does. If someone is disrespectful, breaks the rules and shows a bad example to the others he has to punish them. In this world this is how things go. This won't make him a bad person, or an aggressive jerk. Baji can be very calm and collected when it comes to leading his division. He is a very good leader, who takes care of his teammates, so no surprise he is really loved by his division. 

Also when he beat Chifuyu up before joining Valhalla: he hated himself for doing that. But he had to, he had no other choice. And Chifuyu had every right to stand up against Baji and tell him he's not doing it. But since Chifuyu never questions Baji's decisions as the captain of the first division he agreed with this one too, and also because he wanted to help him. Chifuyu knew exactly what he was doing when he let Baji doing this to him, and he went along with it. Stop bringing this up everytime and use it against Baji.