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sttoru · 2 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, who’s silent is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

“What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk angst #toji angst #please give it lots of love :)

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xxchumanixx · 3 months

Text

Healing together

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: smut, 18+ mdni!, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (fem receiving), fingering, fluff, angst, hurt, comfort

Word count: 4.731

Authors note: Hello guys! I know I said I'd be uploading another story (actually two), but I had this idea all of a sudden and I just couldn't let it slide. So I had to do it first. Get ready for some naked time with Tim Bradford!

Enjoy!

That, was not how your day had been supposed to go.

Not at all.

Being in the middle of a crimescene, staring at your ex-boyfriend - Yeah, it definitely wasn't supposed to go like that.

It should have been a normal day - you should have went to work, did your job, before going home, cook, shower, sleep.

Simple as that.

But when a colleague from work had been killed in the middle of the day, causing the whole place to be crowded with police and forensics, the day had begun to shift.

Slowly, the simple things became complicated - being crowned when you spotted a familiar face amidst the officers: Tim Bradford.

Sucking in a breath you tried your best to hide, which wasn't that easy given the open parking lot you currently were at.

But he didn't seem to have seen you yet, calming your racing heart down a little.

Your break-up with Tim was nasty.

You weren't compatible anymore, your interests and goals for the future having shifted completely, going into different directions.

That didn't mean that you didn't love him anymore, but when you gave him the choice - either his career or you - he took the career.

You didn't exactly blame him for it, but he broke your heart. Now, years later, you couldn't help but notice that he looked even better than before.

Scolding yourself for thinking this way, you shook your head. He shouldn't be of interest for you, not after all this time.

But he was.

So, when someone cleared their throat behind you, you froze.

"Ma'am, we would like to get a statement from you." You knew his voice, it still haunted you in your dreams - you would have recognized it from anywhere.

Turning around you did your best not to look too suspicious. Sending him a crooked smile his eyes widened, mouth agape as the pen in his hand almost slipped from his grasp.

"Y/N." he carefully said your name, like he was testing it on his tongue after all these years. "Tim." you gave back, swallowing.

The woman beside him - according to her name tag she was officer Chen - looked between you in confusion.

"You know her?" she wanted to know, pen pointed at you. "Yeah..." he returned, eyes fixed on you. "Briefly." you cut in, noticing how his mouth twitched at the statement.

"We were in the same class in academy and she used to work for the LAPD." Tim explained.

"You're a cop?" she asked, sounding almost excited. "I was." you corrected her, biting your lip.

"I was, until a case went wrong, sending me to the intensive care unit for almost three months." "You nearly died." Tim added, shaking his head the slightest bit. "If the bullet had hit a millimeter more to the right he would have hit your heart. Not that it would have been the only bullet, though."

Swallowing at the memory you nodded slightly. "Yeah, the scars remind me everyday of my almost day of death."

Chen bit her lip. "I know that feeling." she mumbled. "Been buried alive. That psycho tattooed my DOD on my ribs."

Your brows rose high at the horrible time she had to have went through, eyes widening. "Officer Bradford saved me." she explained, motioning at Tim.

Nodding you felt a familiar tug at your heart. "He uses to do such things from time to time." you told her, trying to hide how your voice trembled.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name. It sounded strange through the blur and the fog in your head. "Stay with me! Keep your eyes open, you hear me? Y/N!"

Blinking rapidly, you had to get away from him. His presence opened wounds that never managed to heal.

"What are you doing here? I thought you went to New Orleans?" Tim wanted to know, tilting his head slightly as his brows furrowed. Your lip twitched - you had barely been in New Orleans for a year.

It was beautiful, but it wasn't LA.

"I'm back, have been a few years now, actually." you explained, fingers tugging at lose strings on your pants. You just had to grab the one with holes in it, hadn't you?

Why even buy overpriced pants with holes, anyways?

Shaking that thought off, you continued. "I'm working here, the one who's murdered was my colleague. Although I contemplated going back."

"Back to New Orleans?" He almost sounded alarmed, but you shook your head. "Back to the police."

That must have alarmed him even more, as his eyes widened significantly.

"I've got an offer from Grey." you explained, tugging a lose strand of hair behind your ear. Tim swallowed, nodding.

"So you two were rookies together?" Chen inquired, smiling. "How was he back then?"

Clearing your throat you looked at her. "He was ambitious, eager." you explained. "A little reckless."

Tim's brows rose at your words. "I was reckless?" he wanted to know, huffing. "We were both reckless when we decided to be-" he cut himself off, already having said too much.

But Chen was clever, as she caught on to what he wanted to say.

"Wait, you two were together?"

Rolling your eyes you looked away for a second.

Damn him and his mouth - even when the memory of what his mouth was able to do made you blush.

Not what you wanted to think of in that moment, though.

"We were." you confirmed, nodding as you looked back at her. "Didn't work. It's history, nothing more."

Tim swallowed, it was so loud that you could hear it.

His gaze wandered over the crimescene, before it fixed on his rookie. "Boot, could you get a statement from this man over there?" he asked, pointing somewhere, though it wasn't really a question.

Chen knew that as well, nodding.

"Was nice to meet you." she spoke, before she turned around and headed for the man Tim pointed at.

Cocking a brow you looked up at him, as his gaze fell back on you. "What?" he asked, brows furrowing. "You did that on purpose." you replied, giving him a pointed look.

Sighing he stuffed away his pen and notepad, nodding. "Yes, I did."

Biting your lip you contemplated to run.

You didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but if he sent his rookie away, he wanted to do exactly that.

You knew him.

Sighing, you decided to stay. It would have only looked suspicious if you ran - they didn't need to falsely arrest you, because they thought you were the murderer.

Biting down on your cheek you waited for him to begin.

"You look good." he spoke hesitantly, a small smile gracing his lips. Nodding, your brows twitched. "Did you tell her to go just so you could tell me that I look good?" you gave back, tilting your head.

"No, I... I'm just surprised to see you, that's all." he admitted, looking down for a split second. "After we... separated, I didn't see you again."

Huffing, you crossed your arms above your chest. "What did you expect, after you broke my heart?" you returned, holding his gaze, even as his eyes averted at your words.

"That I could continue like nothing happened? I couldn't stay, because that meant I'd have to see you everyday, so I quit and went to New Orleans. But it wasn't LA, so I came back after only a year. I kept in contact with Wade and Angela, but that's it."

His brows knitted together. "I don't know if I should be more surprised about you being on first name basis with Grey or you staying in contact with Lopez."

Shaking your head you looked down.

"What are you trying to do here, Tim?" you asked quietly, looking back up. The sun was already setting, shining straight onto your faces, highlighting all of his contours.

Sighing deeply, his gaze fell back on the crowd of people around you. He seemed unsure, hesitant.

"I never got the chance to apologize." he finally spoke, looking down, before his gaze fell on you, as your brows furrowed. "I chose my career, but I later realized that I was wrong. I could have had both and I made the mistake of choosing only one thing."

Shaking your head at his words you felt the anger bubble up. You had suppressed it for so long, that it was hard for you to hold it back now.

"Are you serious?" you wanted to know, taking a step closer, as your eyes narrowed at him. "Angela mentioned that you married - only two years later. Surely your career didn't stand in the way when you did."

He looked like you just slapped him in the face.

"I know." he gave back. "I didn't want to do the same mistake again. But then I did another one. She got addicted, and I didn't intervene at first. Only when she left one night I realized that I fucked up again. I didn't see her for two years, but now she's clean."

Biting your lip you nodded slightly.

"Bet you must be happy now." you said, feeling sorry for her. "We're divorced now." he returned. "It's only a few months ago. But it's better that way."

"Oh." you made, looking away, now feeling guilty, as the anger slowly faded. "Angela didn't tell me. I mean, not that it's my cup of tea, but I'm sorry for you."

He nodded. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

Nodding as well, you didn't know what to say. Luckily, he did.

"You should get home, get some rest." he told you, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I don't know." you gave back, biting your lip. "My car is at the workshop, I got here with the bus, but that won't get here, now that this is a crimescene. I don't know how I'll get home - I guess I'll just walk then."

His brows furrowed. "No, you're not going home on your own." he disagreed, shaking his head. "We still don't know who did this and the suspect could still be close by. I'll drive you."

"What? No, you don't have to do that. I can protect myself." you argued. "I bet you have a lot of work left to do here anyway, not to mention your rookie."

But he shook his head, not having it. "She'll drive with someone else." he told you sternly, before walking towards her.

Mouth agape you stared after him, not sure if you were ready to be alone in a car with him just yet.

When he came back, you couldn't believe that he really was able to just go, drive you home.

"Come." he spoke, walking towards his police car. Still shocked you followed him, knowing that you didn't have another choice. He wouldn't have let you go alone, no matter what you did.

You sighed, when you sat down in the passenger seat. You missed sitting in the shop, the familiar smell and feeling causing you to feel homesick.

Tim started the engine, as you buckled up. Leaning back in the seat your fingers brushed over the door. You had sat so many times in the shop, and after all this time of being no cop anymore, you finally felt at home again.

The drive was silent for the first few minutes, after you told him were you lived.

The silence was heavy, neither one knowing what to say now that you were alone.

"Are you planning on taking Grey up on his offer?" Tim broke the silence, looking at you, before his gaze went back out on the street.

"Before getting in the shop I wasn't sure - but now... It feels like I'm home again. All this time I missed something and I know now, that it was this job."

He nodded, swallowing.

"I took that from you." he almost whispered, and you swore you saw his eyes glisten. "Because of me you gave up your dream. I don't know how I'll ever be able to make up for it."

Biting your cheek, you considered if you should tell him that he couldn't make up for it. But you decided against it.

If you really wanted to get back, you shouldn't stay angry at him. You should at least try to forgive him, no matter how long it would take.

"I'm sure you'll find a way." you quietly told him, looking out your window.

Parking in front of your house, it was already dark. He cut the engine, getting out, before you could have stopped him.

Following him to your front door you hesitated. "Won't you get into trouble for driving me home?"

He shook his head, as he stopped at the door, as you did the same. "No, I can explain my absence." he told you, looking down at you. "I just wanted to make sure that you're getting home safely."

Feeling your heart hammer in your chest, you nodded. "Okay, then thank you for driving me home." you spoke, looking up into his eyes. "Yeah, no problem." he mumbled, staring back.

You felt how you became hot, hearing your heartbeat in your ears at his intense stare.

Slowly, he inched closer, his head leaning in your direction. Your breathing faltered, as you did the same.

His breath fanned over your face and you swallowed, before his lips finally met yours.

Something inside you exploded, as you tasted his lips for the first time since your break-up.

They fit together like they were made to be, his hands finding your hips, guiding you closer. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him.

Your lips devoured each other, his tongue brushing your bottom lip and you let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance, your combined breathing ringing in your ears.

Your heart burst at the feeling, as the kiss grew more heated.

Fumbling for the key, all your worries were suddenly gone. Trying to open the door blindly it took you a few tries, before you heard the familiar click. Pushing the door open, Tim didn't waste any time as he pushed you inside.

He closed the door behind him, before his hands grabbed your face, guiding your lips back onto his.

He pushed you against the nearest wall, your back hitting it almost painfully, as his hands roamed your body. Grabbing your thighs he gave you a sign to jump - and so you did.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down your chin to your neck, sucking at it until he found the spot that had you moaning.

Using the advantage he brushed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, before his hands found your hips again. They wandered under your shirt, eagerly touching your skin.

"Where is your bedroom?" he wanted to know breathlessly. "Upstairs, first door on the right." you explained, out of breath as well.

He didn't hesitate to grab you, before he walked to the stairs with you in his arms, showing no signs of trouble as he took them, all the while kissing you as he blindly made his way up.

When he reached the door he pushed it open, only breaking the kiss to locate your bed, before he let you fall down on it. Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt over your head, watching him as he took off his jacket, followed by his shirt and the one he wore under his uniform.

He was breathtaking.

His muscles were more defined than they were back then, making him even more geogous. Unbottoning his pants, you did the same, stripping out of them, before throwing them off the bed.

When you were left in only your underwear, he was back on top of you, his lips taking yours. Lying down on your back his body pressed against yours, his clothed cock pressing against the inside of your thigh.

Sucking down your neck, he again found your sweet spot, earning a moan from you as he sucked on it. Your hands brushed through his hair, as your back arched.

He took the opportunity to open your bra, discarding of it on the floor.

Kissing down to your breasts, his lips found your left nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You yelped in pleasure and surprise, tugging at his short strands. His tongue circled around it, before it flicked over it.

You moaned when he lightly bit down on your nipple, before letting go of it with a wet pop, giving your other one the same attention.

The wetness between your legs was almost getting too wet, the knot in your belly already forming just because his lips were around your nipple.

Letting go of the other one he went further down, trailing kisses down your stomach, until he reached the hem of your panties. He looked up at you, before he kissed your clothed pussy, causing you to suck in a breath.

He was so unnaturally hot.

Chuckling at your reaction, his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties, before tugging them down, letting them drop on the floor as well.

Then he pushed your legs back, opening them until he could see his precious price. Kissing your thighs he took his time, causing you to squirm.

You could feel him grin, his hot breath fanning over your heat. Without a warning his tongue licked up your pussy in one stripe, causing your hips to buck, as you moaned loudly.

His tongue went down on you, licking through your folds, flicking over your clit, before his lips sucked it into his mouth.

Your hands found their way back into his hair, fisting it as much as you could with its length, earning a groan from him. It vibrated through your pussy, making you moan in return.

His thumb brushed over your clit, as his mouth let go of you, his eyes finding yours. He drew figure eights on your bundle of nerves, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head, gasping for air.

His thumb was soon replaced by his mouth again, as he slowly pushed a finger inside you, after gathering some of your arousel to wet it.

You moaned, as he started fingering you, all the while pleasuring you with his tongue. When he added a second finger, stretching you, your back arched off the matress, as you pulled his head even closer.

The knot in your stomach tightened almost painfully, as his fingers fell into a steady rhythm. He brought you right to the edge, and when you looked down at him, your eyes finding his, you fell.

Screaming his name, you came. He didn't stop though, taking everything you gave him, as he rode you through your high.

When you came down it, he removed his mouth and fingers, wiping over his mouth, that glistened from your arousel, before he leaned up, kissing you.

Tasting yourself on his tongue you groaned, palming him through his briefs. He twitched, as he gasped for air, before his lips were on yours again.

Tugging the briefs down his legs, he let them fall to the floor, his cock painfully hard. It poked at your entrance, making you all the more eager to finally have him inside you.

His lips left yours, as he pointed at your night table. You nodded, before he opened it and took out a condom, before sitting up a little. He rolled it down his shaft, before he lay back on top of you.

Kissing you again he guided his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing the head inside.

Moaning you clenched, making him hiss. "Fuck." he breathed. "You're so tight." Smirking you pushed in his direction. He slowly eased forward, until he was buried to the hilt.

Breathing heavily you leaned back into the cushions, needing a moment to get used to him.

His lips brushed your cheek, as he waited for your go. Nodding, you signaled that you were ready.

Slowly, he pulled back until only his head was inside you, before thrusting back into you hard. You yelped, toes curling at the sensation, as he did it again and again, slowly becoming faster.

You fell into a steady rhytm, your hands gripping his bicep with his arms at either side of your head.

His eyes found yours and you sucked in a breath, moaning his name. "Fuck." he swore, biting his lip. "Do that again." Your cheeks flushed. "Tim!" you moaned his name again and he groaned, his thrusts getting harder, deeper.

You wouldn't last long if he kept this up.

Your breasts bounced, and he kissed down them, circling your nipples with his tongue.

Your hands found his hair, tugging at it almost painfully at the sensations. The knot in your belly tightened again, as you brought his mouth back to yours.

He thrust into you vigorously, his pelvis brushing your clit, sending sparks up your body and making your toes curl.

"I'm gonna cum soon." you told him inbetween moans, biting your lip. One of his hands gripped one of your legs, giving you a sign to wrap them both around his middle.

Doing as you were told you felt how he reached even deeper, earning a moan from you both.

His thrusts gained speed, as one of his hands found your middle, his fingers brushing your clit. You twitched under him, as he started to rub it, driving you towards the edge in highspeed.

You were so close to bursting.

"Tim!" you breathed, trying to focus on his face. "I know." he gave back. "Come for me."

With a scream of his name you stumbled over the edge, him following closely as your pussy clenched around him.

He rode out your highs, before he stilled. Breathing heavily your eyes were closed, needing a moment to come down from the best orgasmn you've had in the last few years.

When your eyes opened again they met his, as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. You smiled, still feeling a little high.

He returned the smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Time stood still, as you enjoyed this moment in silence.

Still a little out of breath he rolled down from you, his back hitting the sheets as he lay down beside you.

"Fuck..." he mumbled. "That was..." "Amazing." you finished for him. "Yeah..."

You lay in silence as you slowly caught your breath, him discarding of the condom, before lying back down. But as the high faded, something different bubbled up.

Feelings, that were so deep buried inside you, suddenly pushed back up. Gasping, you tried to suppress the tears -failing horribly as a sob broke through.

"Y/N!" Tim called out your name in worry, sitting up. "What happened?" Tears streamed down your face, as you sat up as well.

"Why couldn't it just have been fine?" you wanted to know, causing him to furrow his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Why couldn't we just have been happy back then?" you returned, wiping your face.

He fell silent, as he knew what you meant.

Crying silently you suddenly felt ashamed. You shouldn’t have been crying over the past, but you couldn't help it. After all that happened, you still loved him.

"After you've been shot, almost dying in my arms..." he began, breaking the silence, as his gaze fell on the sheets. "I built this shield around me, that was supposed to prevent a situation like this from happening again. I almost lost you, an event that traumatized me so badly... For a very long time I tried to convince myself that what I did was right."

He sighed, and you swallowed, biting your lip as more tears fell.

"When I married Isabel, I tried to prevent something like this, but I failed - again." he continued. "She was undercover, getting addicted. I didn't know how to help her and to be honest, I don't believe that there was actually a way I could have helped. If anything, I made it worse. It reminded me of us. I relived the events from when you were shot, nearly dying. You lost so much blood that they had to revive you - two times. Knowing that it was my fault, knowing that you could have died because of me - something inside me broke. So when I built this shield, and you asked me to go with you - I was scared that it would follow us. I was scared that you'd be in harms way, because of me. So I chose the job."

Sobbing, you tried to understand what he just told you.

"It wasn't your fault." you told him, wiping your face, even though it was useless. "Yes it was! If I-" he wanted to argue, but you cut him off. "No, Tim! It was not your fault! It was mine!" you shouted, pointing at yourself.

"I was sloppy that day, I didn't sleep enough, wasn't feeling well. And if I hadn't hesitated when trying to shoot the attacker, he wouldn't even have had a chance to get me. It wasn't your fault, do you hear me? Nothing of this was on you, Tim."

His mouth was open, eyes red from the tears he tried to hold at bay.

"You never said that you didn't feel well." he realized, swallowing. "If you would have told Grey, you wouldn't have even been there in the first place."

Nodding, you bit your lip, absentmindely brushing over the scar on your chest with your fingers.

"Yes, but i was so eager to get that job done." you explained. "Nothing would have stopped me from going out there, so stop blaming yourself. Please, Tim."

It fell silent again, as your tears slowly subsided.

All this time you had suffered, because he thought he was at fault for your accident. He blamed himself, even though it wasn't his fault at all.

When he suddenly scooted closer, his arms wrapping around you with his chin on your head, you heard him sniff. Leaning against him you breathed his familiar scent, your heart bleeding as he cried.

You could have had it all. Could have lived a happy life. He could have married you instead of Isabel, who ended up getting addicted, breaking his heart.

You had both suffered so badly.

And as you sat there, both crying over the past mistakes, you made a decision.

You would forgive him.

After all, he did what he did to keep you safe - even if he broke his own heart in the process as well.

After a while he shifted, looking down at you. His eyes were red and a little puffy, but yours didn't look any better.

"I shouldn't have let you go." he told you, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "When you asked me to go with you, I should have said yes. I shouldn't have pushed you away, out of fear that I might lose you if I didn't."

Shaking your head, you sniffed. "I shouldn't have made you choose." you gave back. "I ran away from my fear, but it didn't work. I should have stayed and tried to heal, instead of running."

He breathed deeply, his hand on your cheek.

"I want you to know that I never stopped loving you." he admitted, holding your gaze. "Not even when i was with Isabel."

Smiling through another wave of tears coming up, your hand lay on his. "I never stopped loving you, either." you returned, a happy feeling spreading through you.

It tickled your veins, warming you from the inside.

He smiled as well, blinking as a tear fell on his cheek.

"Can we fix this?" he asked, hope shining in his eyes. "I think we did already." you gave back, causing him to sigh in relief.

"Will we be together, after this?" he questioned further. Swallowing, you wiped at your eyes, before responding. "I would love nothing more."

He kissed you. It felt different, free.

Like it should be.

"I love you." he spoke, kissing your cheeks. "I love you too." you returned, a giddy feeling spreading through your entire being, smiling broadly.

"And I promise that I'll never leave you again." he added, swallowing, as he looked into your eyes. "You'll never get rid of me again."

"I wouldn't want to."

#tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie x u #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie #tim bradford smut

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

Note

both you and your anons need to stop because I am so invested in his daughters dating life now?? why am I imagining and whole saga of this up and coming merc joining KorTac after being spotted in an underground fighting ring wrecking HAVOC and being constantly told he's just as ruthless as the colonel when he was younger, running into a girl in a night club and hitting it off well maybe even a few make out sessions or two, slowly falling in love with this absolute firecracker of a girl who takes shit from no one. one day he has to go into his Colonels office and he sees a picture of his family and oh no...

them trying to date in secret and hoping the König doesn't manage to find an oversized leather jacket in his kids belongings...

Gaaaahh the saga of the rich spoiled daddy’s girl x poor underdog merc! I want a fic (or a sitcom) made of this 😭

Big bad biker guy grew up in a VERY similar setting as König… Harsh conditions, neglected as a child, comes from an abusive home, he tried to make money in these underground fights and got spotted by a headhunter, now he’s a rising star at KorTac’s and finally making something of himself.

The Colonel hates him somehow, bullies him, even, but at least he got this nice cute girl who’s the sunshine in his rain! An absolute princess, comes from a good family (although he’s detecting some daddy issues which is probably why she ended up with him in the first place...), he can tell she’s been sheltered all her life because she absolutely lives for danger.

She’s starstruck when he takes her for a ride, drools all over his tattoos, wants to make out in public and demands him to fuck her nasty style in his small, ugly flat – she’s an angel who happened to stroll into his hell, a crazy little princess he would die for <3

Disguised as this innocent, multitalented sweetheart, she’s in truth a hellraiser and a psycho at heart, and takes a liking to his knives. He just has to give one to her: of course she picks the biggest, dirtiest one, and says it reminds her of him. His heart is hers after that, and he returns to work, whistling, doesn’t even get too stressed about the Colonel summoning him to his office at 8 AM sharp.

He opens the door, still smiling, but it gets wiped away the minute he sees there’s a knife stuck on the Colonel’s desk. It’s the same big fat ugly weapon he gave his princess yesterday...

...and he briefly puts 2 and 2 together before the atom bomb called Colonel König goes off.

“Is this yours?”

#saga of König's daughter #girl dad König #lmao this whole au is gold #:''')

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romanreignseater · 1 year

Text

The Eater’s Masterlist

The Head of The Table, Roman Reigns

Signed Up.

“Marrying Roman came with a lot of benefits, but do you really know what you signed up for?!”

Signature Here Please. (Part Two to “Signed Up”)

“You’ve been waiting for your punishment, and after a tense collision at the Royal Rumble… it’s happening. NOW!”

Pottery & Berries.

“This is only your SECOND date with✨thee✨infamous Roman Reigns and boy… does he have you going crazy right now.”

Your Assistant?

“Being the assistant to a devilishly handsome man never work out well in the movies. Especially, for the wife. But, what happens when the wife wants you to get a little more closer to your boss?”

You’ve Made A Mess.

“Roman’s being a brat and you wanted to show him what happens to brats when they lip off too much.”

The Mouth & Finger Vigilante.

“Roman’s fingers and mouth are members of the self-appointed group that solve problems. The problem is being away from his wife without pleasuring her. So, here comes his mouth and fingers to save the day.”

He’s Gray. (Request)

“Roman’s beard has been getting more gray by the day, and you just had to tell your man how much you loved it.”

Game On. (Request)

“Roman has some time off after WrestleMania, so he plays some games with the boys. But, he’s a little too busy pleasuring his wife during the gameplay.”

Mr. WrestleMania.

“After a flawless victory at his 3rd Main Event at WrestleMania, your Tribal Chief deserved three special treats.”

Pregnancy Cravings.

“Not only did you crave the weirdest foods at the weirdest times, you always craved the man who put you in this state.”

“Press Play” (A Series) Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

“Being the girlfriend to a famous divorced father of 5 wasn’t your plan at 26 years old. You trusted him with your life, so you agreed to film a little something, but now you regret ever meeting him when your whole life is exposed.”

Psycho Bitch (Request).

“You and Roman have like a slightly ‘toxic’ relationship, where you guys just get jealous over simple things. One night you guys get into a big fight, and it leads to so pretty toxic behavior.”

That Slow Burn.

“Slow missionary with lots of nasty tongue kisses>>>>.”

Feet Kicker.

“Who knew such a big and grown ass man would moan and kick his feet in the air while eating his wife out?!”

——————————————————————————

Mr. Main Event Jey Uso

Time Alone.

“Time was something that didn’t even seem to exist to you. But, your husband Jey does sure know how to have a fun time.”

Diced Pineapples.

“The lyrics speak for itself, this is exactly how Jey Uso feels about his girl in the summertime 😋.”

Is It Me or Him?! (Request)

Jimmy Uso x Jey Uso x Reader

“Female reader is married to Jimmy but she finds out on social media he’s cheating she ends up falling for Jey who has always been in love with her.”

Just The Three of Us.

Jey Uso x Jimmy Uso x Reader

“You’ve caught the Usos eyes ever since you joined the main roster and boy… did you live their attention.”

Our Reflection.

“Being two beautiful people in a relationship causes us to look in the mirror quite often. So, why not take a chance and fuck in front of it?!”

How Many Licks?!

“How many licks doesn’t it take to make Jey come undone?! I guess the world may never know, but Tara does 😏.”

All The Way Back Down.

“I need you to turn that ass to the back and arch that back down. Whatever you say boy.”

more coming soon…

#eaters masterlist #roman reigns #jey uso #jimmy uso #the bloodline #wwe

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daddy-suguru · 1 year

Text

unexpectedly calling ghostface!toji a "good boy"

anonymous-asked a question!

✑ tags: ghostface!toji, knife play/light cutting, hints at pussy eating, good boy/mama

Slipping in through the back door, locking it behind himself and closing the top lock. Which he had added to be sure no one would try to pick your bottom locks to get in. Since he knew there were other psychos out there.

Holding the knife out to you, wrapped up in a dark towel, Toji tells you, “They’re dead n’ ready for me to move tomorrow night. I’ll be out late hiding him, don’t wait up but wear some pretty lingerie to bed for me will you?” Taking the knife from him while leaning up. Kissing his cheek when he dips his head low enough.

The second the words pass your lips, “Anything for my good boy.” Toji froze while you turn around and walk away with the knife, taking it to the kitchen to clean up some of the evidence he created.

Leaving his heart hammering while the two words make his cock painfully hard in seconds. He groans, glancing down at his cock straining against the comfortable sweatpants. Which you had gotten him with the cash he steals off his victims to give to you. At the time he had joked to get yourself something nice with it, and you had spent it all on him.

To where it feels for the first time someone has seen him for who he fully is and hasn’t spit on him in disgust. Instead, you made him a place he belonged somewhere making this place his home as much as it was yours.

Toji says, “Fuck me, call me that again.” While he follows you into the kitchen. His attention slips up and down along the shape of your body. Toji has memorized and finds even more stunning with each passing day. And when you reach the sink, washing the blood off the knife you say,

“You like hearing that you did good, taking care of a nasty pervert for me? Making me so proud of you.” His heart beats a little faster while your last words play over inside of his mind.

Toji’s gaze settles on your ass while he says, “I want you to call me that name again.” The way your panties hug your cheeks causes his cock to twitch. While his pre-cum smears on the inside of his sweatpants.

Pressing you up against the sink counter, grabbing your hip with one hand and grabbing his clean knife with the other. He presses the tip of the knife underneath your chin, slowly dragging it back, keeping the pressure too light to pierce your skin.

His hard cock pressing into your lower back. Something about how you are too short for your hips to line up with his has always driven him wild. Since he can use his height to loom over you while he spreads your legs apart, making you feel small underneath him while you’re taking his fat cock.

Smiling and cooing, “Toji you’re a good boy for me, it makes me want to spoil Mama’s good boy.” The last title slipped off your tongue so smoothly making him groan. He had you call him Daddy from time to time, so why not call you Mommy. After all, you take care of his cock with your pretty pussy however he needs you too.

Sliding his knife down along the curve of your neck while he asks, “How does mama want to spoil her good boy?” When the knife reaches between your collarbones, Toji stops, pressing the knife deep enough to pierce the skin. Causing a thick drop of blood to trickle down to the neckline of your crop top.

You say, “Since you were a good boy, shouldn’t you decide what you want for your reward.” He squeezes your hip while sliding the knife down, cutting your crop top open while saying,

“I want to eat out mama’s pretty pussy until she squirts for me.” Stepping away if it wasn’t for his mask hiding his blushing face he wouldn’t be able to do this. He is grateful you can’t see the deeper shade of red that flushes over his face when you turn around and say again,

“Anything for my good boy.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader

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mlmxreader · 3 months

Text

the cod fandom has a serious issue w saneism

I'm genuinely not joking. so many of you fuckers are guilty of being absolutely abhorrent towards people with personality, schizospec, psychotic, dissociative and trauma disorders and you need to stop before you genuinely harm someone. no, you're not "cute" for it - you're an ableist, nasty little cunt for it.

so, let's go through it a bit; I'm not gonna go in-depth, bc ik some of you lot won't take criticism w/o treating it as a personal attack, and ik a LOT of you don't actually give a shit abt hurting people either. but I'm gonna quickly cover some things that need addressing.

First and foremost: "delulu".

"delulu" is a term that's been shortened from "delusional" to essentially mean "I have a thought/opinion that few others have".

which isn't the correct way to actually use this term whatsoever; according to the correct definition, a delusion is stated to be "A delusion is a strongly-held or fixed false belief that conflicts with reality.", and an example of that would be (for example) if someone believed that their behaviour, thoughts and emotions were being controlled by the government or aliens. THAT is a delusion.

"Soap isn't dead uwu" is not. by using the word "delusion" colloquially and by using "delulu", you are minimising and misusing a term used solely meant for usage within the mental health field. it's not that hard to say "I have the opinion that-" or "I think that-", because what you're experiencing isn't a delusion. it's an opinion.

Secondly: "psychopath/sociopath".

"psychopath" and "sociopath" are widely misused and derogatory terms used often towards people with ASPD to portray them as violent, evil, etc. and within the cod fandom is often used as a derogatory term for villains like Makarov and Shepherd and Graves.

the terms themselves are wildly outdated and no longer used within the mental health field due to their derogatory and untrue definitions; "psychopath" and "sociopath" can ONLY be used by people with ASPD and other such disorders, otherwise, it does count as a slur.

if you cannot reclaim it, you cannot use it.

otherwise, you're only pushing and furthering stigmatisation and stereotypes that render it HARDER for people to seek help and support for their mental health.

Third: "schizo".

"schizo" is a fucking slur. end of. it is a slur against people with schizospec disorders. it's a slur, stop using it.

it's not cute and it isn't funny; the word is a slur, and if you cannot reclaim it then why are you using it if not to treat schizospec people as a fucking joke?

why is our mental health a joke to you when you would kick off if someone did the same to anxiety, or depression?

why is it okay to treat one disorder as a joke, why is it okay to treat schizospec people as if we're second class citizens?

Fourth: "psycho".

the same as above, "psycho" is a fucking slur. stop using it.

the word has a long, long history of being used in a derogatory, offensive and bigoted manner in order to portray someone as being violent, evil or otherwise terrible - "he's such a psycho!", "she's acting psycho!" - and yet, the cod fandom throws it around as if it means nothing despite the fact that one quick look will show that "psycho" is a slur and is as bad as calling someone a "faggot" as a slur.

Fifth: the treatment of Nikto

in recent weeks, Nikto has become sort of the "new" König - he's an object of desire and attraction, which... Sure, whatever.

but Nikto canonically has dissociative identity disorder, a mental health issue that is largely misunderstood and mistreated massively.

the fandom treats Nikto two ways: either his mental illness boils down to "uwu soft baby" disease, or it doesn't exist at all.

that is NOT how dissociative identity disorder works; by treating Nikto as if he's some completely innocent, infantilised, glamourised depiction of dissociative identity disorder, you are further perpetuating that it is NOT a serious disorder and it is NOT something to take seriously.

furthermore, by acting as if his mental health disorder doesn't exist AT ALL, you are also furthering that a character CANNOT be desirable, loved and attractive if he has any kind of mental health disorder.

how would you like it if someone treated anxiety or depression that way?

how would you feel if someone erased depression to make you an object of desire, instead of treating it with respect and decency?

it's not nice, is it?

so why do it at all?

conclusion

the cod fandom has a massive, massive issue with saneism and ableism, and it needs to stop because all you're doing is being shitty and bigoted towards marginalised people to the point where even something that's supposed to be FUN can't even be that anymore because people with these disorders have to CONSTANTLY be on guard and CONSTANTLY have to deal with stigmatisation and demonisation to the point where no one can be trusted outside of ourselves.

so stop it, have some fucking courtesy for your fellow man and have some respect and decency for once in your lives.

yes, you can reblog, but don't fucking derail.

#call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty fandom #cod fandom

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yuyuswrld · 6 months

Text

O Captain, My Captain

Series Intro

characters: various aot boys x reader

genre: SMAU with writing, romance, smut, angst

for my marco fans, there’s a little sneak peak at him at the end :)

notes: this series will be 18+ even though this introduction does not have any smut in it. please do not interact with me if you are under 18. all characters in this series are over the age 18.

You learned that Eren Yeager was a stone wall incredibly quickly. It was a shock to you, considering how popular he was despite being unable to converse with someone he didn’t know well. You’d have steered away from him forever if it had been up to you. However, knowing your luck, you had to see him every day after all your classes were over.

It was a slip of judgment to allow yourself to be recruited as the next manager of the volleyball team. Sure, you had watched a couple of games here and there for school spirit, not to mention copious amounts of alcohol at the after-parties. But when one of your professors approached you on your way out of class, describing a great way to amp up your resume and get all-expenses-paid vacations, becoming a sports team manager was the last thing you expected.

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Connie starts to explain after you walk into the gym, noting the tasks you'll be in charge of before you commit to the offer. “Our old manager, Hanna, got pregnant with one of my homies. Now she’s off giving birth and whatnot, so we’ve been down a manager.”

“So what does a manager typically do?” You question, shifting the conversation slightly to get to the point. The more you look at the different stereotypical characters running across the courts and the loud smacks that echoed throughout the gym, the more your desire to take the opportunity dwindles. Sure, cute boys and another achievement on your resume are great or whatever, but you really try to avoid getting committed to sports – especially after crashing and burning last time. You shudder as a chill runs down your spine at the thought before Connie starts talking again.

“Oh, um. I won't lie, I honestly have no idea what she did, either.” You stare at Connie in silence, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Uh, is there someone who does?” You ask. It's getting difficult to ignore your doubts about your decision to come here.

“Yeah, I think so. Let me go grab ‘im.” Connie jogs further down the court, interrupting someone as they finish their current spike. But as your eyes focus in on who was walking closer, you knew you we’re going to have the displeasure of meeting Eren Yeager.

Connie runs over to drag his brown-haired teammate over, who takes his sweet time walking over after sparing you only a glance. He is good looking, sure – but you aren't fooled by appearances, and you've heard far too much about him to even remotely consider him attractive from listening to Petra gossiping about him. She had a big mouth and somehow knew everything about everyone, the good and the bad, but it came in handy when it came to staying in the loop at school. Eren had a nasty habit of cursing out any girl who made an advance on him, citing his career and how a ‘bitch’ would only get in the way of it.

You think back to the memory of Petra sipping her drink, watching Eren walk out of school and head towards his Hellcat in the parking lot. You two had been sitting at the school’s cafe as you enjoyed your “study” date, which had inevitably just turned into a gossip session.

“You see that guy? That’s Eren Yeager. He’s on our volleyball team and he’s a fucking psycho.” She'd rolled her eyes as she recounted the gossip she had gotten from her friend. “Apparently Mina – y’know the one from our bio class? They hooked up at a party and afterwards he accused her of trying to sabotage his volleyball career. He even called her a psycho. That’s not even the only time he’s done it apparently. I know he’s cute, but stay away unless you want to end up on a true crime podcast.”

You brace yourself for the upcoming conversation as he nears.

“You’re going to be the new manager?” Eren says in a monotone voice, as if being forced by his mother to make small talk with a distant aunt. The displeasure of being interrupted is written all over his face.

“No – well –” You start before Eren cuts you off without hesitation.

“Usually Hanna prepares the towels, fills the bottles with water, and mops the gym after practice. Coach Levi's pretty anal about the gym being clean, so pay attention to that. You’ll want to learn about formations and strategies, too; Hanna fucking sucked when it came to game sense. You’ll work with the sports director Erwin to set up practice matches and travel plans. There’s probably more, but that’s your job, not mine.” He jogs back over to do spiking drills without another word. Your jaw slackens, scoffing at the attitude. What a little shit. Connie shrugs at you in an I’m pretty sure that’s right way. You smile at him, politely dismissing yourself before trudging your way back to your professor’s office.

“Absolutely not,” you say, dramatically sighing to emphasize the sheer disappointment you feel from the experience. “I only talked to Connie and Eren, which was already too much. You’d have better luck with a dog trainer or circus clown to manage them.” Your shoulders drop, but you prepare to defend yourself as to why.

“Please,” Professor Hange begs, their eyes beading with desperation. “I was the one who introduced the previous manager to the guy that got her pregnant. On accident, of course, but they’re totally on my tail about getting a new manager to fill the spot!” They spin around haphazardly before collapsing on their standing desk in an unconvincing sadness. “I’ll even see if they’ll pay you as if you were working a normal student job.”

You internally cringe, but are now forced to consider the prospects. Chewing on your lip, you respond. You know if you look back on this moment at any point, you’d want to go back in time and slap yourself.

“If you can make it a paid position, I’ll do it.”

Unsurprisingly, Professor Hange got their way in the end.

next: part 1, reiner x reader

#aot #aot x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren smut #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #anime smut #marco bott #marco bott x reader #smau #aot smau

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absolutebl · 9 months

Text

This week in BL - Gay Boy Turf Wars Galore!

Also, ALL the guest couples: TutorYim & MacNat showed up in Korea. Korea also reused the Love Class pair. And Wayne Song & Huang Chun Chih (H3:MODC) popped up AGAIN. (To be fair, when does Wayne not show up in a Taiwanese BL?)

Entirely subjective yadda yadda. Organized by favs in each category. No numbered lists anymore, tumblr be buggn'.

Aug 2023 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Laws of Attraction (Sat iQIYI) 7 of 8 - Plot reveals galore + all the penultimate tension we could want. (How many different kinds of smiles does Film have in his arsenal?) OMG I LOVE the unhinged idiot bloody tattooed ex bf - intro music and all. He is my precious psycho-bunny-snookums. Also Tinn, baby-boy, communicating about your honest feelings in a BL? What madness is this? I sense doom incoming. Smart Chan, always tell him he’s better in bed than your ex. The sides getting caught! Noooooo. I mean we knew it would happen but still noooooooo!

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Sat YT) ep 2 of 12 - I like the surreal slip-stream dream-sequence openings. Is it a cerebral examination of temporal paradox or just designed to creep us out? The pace has picked up a bit and I'm delighted that external threat, stressors, and conflict are driving this plot. Refreshing. I love historicals - every touch and action can have such lingering significance, it’s very elegant. Thai BLs can often feel clumsy but not this one. I’m really enjoying it.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - Sailom is great. I love a smartass who’s actually really smart, reminds me of Bai Luo Yin in Addicted. (The real Addicted.) Never a bad thing. Kang is nasty bit of business, I look forward to his redemption arc. I love his grandma. (BL is giving good grandma right now.) Nicely executed narrative twist into sympathy too: rich kid sees how rough life really is. The complexity of character depth needed for this script makes me so happy it's Perth & Chimon, they both have such expressive nuanced faces.

I do keep wanting to rewatch LBC tho.

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 3 of 10 - It remains a blast. Boston is king of red flags, cutting down Ray because he is the easiest punching bag? Going after his friend's bf just to prove he can? No thank you. I know Ray is lovely when he’s soft but danger zone, Sand. Be careful upon entering a minefield, every little step forward may cause an explosion. I don’t think being master of snark is gonna help you avoid getting blown up.

Sand is the one I feel the worst for - bi guy strays into cesspit of gay toxicity. He ain’t gonna make it out alive.

Hidden Agenda (Sun GMMTV YouTube) ep 7 of 10 - The boyfriends date ep! Zo’s past explains a lot about his behavior. Flirty Zo is v dangerous to all our hearts. Nice kiss. Poor Joke. Meanwhile, the side couple gave good kiss too! However, why is Title playing the bad guy again? Did GMMTV bring him in just to be resident jerk face in all their BL? Makes me sad.

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 8 of 12 - This should be a 8 or 10 ep show, 12 is too many. I think I just don’t like the lead couple's character dynamic and personalities. (No shade on JaFirst.) Side couple went startlingly high heat allasudden. And while their sex scene was good, I wish Daddy and the Hot Doc were being given a lot more script, screen time, and character dev. Sigh. I guess I just wish they were the mains and the others were the sides.

Can't have everything, I suppose.

Wedding Plan (Wed YT & iQIYI) ep 6 of 7 - Nuea is a saint and next week everything comes to a head (that didn’t already get head this episode). Trash watch here!

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - The side couple is everything. They are so cute and my favorite trope. Plus hugs with neck kisses! I love big brother using his adorable boyfriend to try and help his annoying little brother’s business. It’s just perfect. Unfortunately, that annoying little brother, is too fucking annoying. I remain largely unable to watch the main story arc.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) 1 of 24 eps - Sampler pack BL, 12 pairs, each pair gets 2 eps, so this show will run all the way into 2024.

First installment is Casanova Begins. Dead boy wakes up in his enemy’s body, 2 years after his own death. Has to make things right with the boyfriend who thinks he was abandoned. Everyone has secrets. No one can be trusted. And the dead kid can never tell anyone who he really is. It’s … different? Unique take on the My Ghost Boyfriend trope.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Jun & Jun (Korea Thur Viki) ep 6 of 8 - Random moment of TutorYim. Hi cuties. Simon is my favorite, I love him and his flirty irreverent ways.

Who does he actually like?

Or is he just flirting with everyone?

Can he have a crush on anyone but himself?

He’s a house cat among the pigeons. Clearly wouldn't know what to do with the bird if he managed to catch it. Or would he?

The 4 boys dodging around each other and re-shuffling is so funny. I can’t tell you how delighted this show makes me. I do feel sorry for Lee Jun, he’s just the toy everyone wants to play with. I understand his frustration, do any of them really want him or is it all because the others are interested? Kiss! Yay! Good kiss! Even more yay!

Stay By My Side (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - Poor baby doesn’t think he’s good enough and is holding JC back. They are THE CUTEST BOYFRIENDS. It hurts. The sappy.

Kisseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 13(?) - From screenwriter Lin Pei Yu (We Best Love, H3: Trapped) formerly known as Miracle, features a student doctor forced to take care of a gangster. I love the premise and like the writer. This one could be sad. Never forget Taiwan will go there.

Shall we get tucked in?

Gay boy turf wars! Main couple is cute. Sunshine gangster (turns out to be a sweetie who cooks) meets broken brilliant tsundere student who wants to be a doctor. Side couple is the leader of the gang and his rabid Pet. Also, all praise the guest couple de jour (baddies). Nice to see you 2... again. All actors are clearly having a blast with this script.

Triggers for knife play, child abuse, lingering trauma.

Love Class Season 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 5-6 of 10 - Aw guest couple from Love Class original, that is very sweet. The tutor and returning student, aka couple 3, are the best. So funny. But the whole thing remains engaging in a messy way.

Why R U? (Korea Wed iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 8 - Oh, it’s very odd. Certainly a lot more comprehensible if you've already watched the Thai version. As with that version, I still dislike the SaifahZon couple and love the FighterTutor couple. And once again I hate the weird IRL shipping sister. HATE HER. I’m not mad at the "Man who Fell into the World of BL" overtones but I wish they went at it more intentionally. (They’re not using NPC the way I would, are they? Cause that’s hella cruel.) MaxNat are fun. I love that Fighter went to his girlfriend's birthday party, didn’t even say hi to her, picked up her drunk bestie, and took him home.

This show is WILD. It’s very Korea tries to do a Thai BL. And, I gotta say, I kind of like the absurdity of the whole scheme. Do I think it will ultimately "work" as a stand alone piece? No. But as a very odd kind of parody? Sure.

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - Truth always comes out in hot springs. It's a rule of life. Coming clean is coming clean, I suppose. Still, moving very slowly for me and I need sake to get through this season. It's certainly suffering from sophomore slump.

Stay Still (Hong Kong Tues YouTube) ep 4 of 5 - Sad episode is sad.