[purring] Satorrrruuuuu~💕

obsessed with this tweet

boy did you make a mistake asking him to tutor you.

you were struggling with a subject you just so happened to have a gruelling test on in the upcoming week. so you begrudgingly (but desperately) asked him, one of the top students in your class, to help you out with the concepts you didn't understand. shockingly, he agreed, and you would meet him at his house after school.

so here you were, sitting beside him on his carpeted floor at the foot of his bed, scribbling down concepts and equations he monotonously explained to you while pointing at diagrams and things in your textbook. he set up some practice equations for you to better grasp the main ideas, and reprimanded you for your unorganized notes.

but how did it get to this? his hand on your knee, now trailing up your thigh as he urges you to write the answer to the equation he's made for you, smirking as he watches you squirm. he leans his head down dangerously close to yours, his low voice whispering tauntingly into the shell of your ear, listening to your breath hitch in your throat and your pencil halt its movements with a cruel grin on his face.

you attempt to squeak out something about it getting late, and you needed to get home, prompting you to begin hastily stuffing your items into your school bag, turning your flushed face away from him in hopes your erratic breathing would calm down. he moves swiftly in sitting up, knocking the book out of your hand and pushing you down on the carpet, causing you to yelp in surprise, looking up at him with widened eyes and a pretty little blush on your cheeks.

"now now," he starts, his voice an octave lower than before, sending a chill down your spine. he hovers over your frail body with a dark aura, supporting himself with his forearms as he smirks down at you. "now surely you don't intend to leave...." he leans down close to you, his breath fanning over your neck as he snarls into your ear,

"...without any form of payment, hm~?"

TSUKISHIMA, sugawara, SUNA, KUROO, oikawa, megumi, GOJO geto, DAZAI, KEISUKE, ryosuke (+your favs!!)

de-stress

MANEATER

kinich x saurian! reader

cw: no pronouns. reader is an ancient sealed saurian much like ajaw but you’re in your human form all the time. flirting and makeout. 3.5k words. not proof-read.

There were a lot of adjectives Kinich could use to describe you. Irritating would be the first, though it barely scratched the surface. 

You were cunning, nosy, and far too pleased with yourself. He could have gone his entire life without meeting you and slept soundly at night. You enjoyed testing his patience, dancing around with that sharp smile as if you knew something he didn’t. 

In your eyes, everything seemed like a game—a tiresome one, at that, with endless rules Kinich had no interest in learning. His life had been simpler—at least—before you’d come along; before your mocking laughter, your constant, uninvited insights, and that way you had of observing him, as though he were an oddity you couldn't quite figure out, or a mere prey to hunt. 

But despite everything, there was no ignoring that you had added a strange new rhythm to his days.

The memory pulled him back to that pivotal moment—the point where, he realized now, everything had shifted. 

______________________________________________

He and Ajaw had been partners for some time already, surviving one mission after another. So when another one arrived, promising a huge payment in exchange for exploring ancient ruins, Kinich barely batted an eye. The contractor was vague and evasive about the reasons, claiming he needed a specific artifact hidden within. Suspicious, maybe. But money was money.

Navigating the ruins was a gauntlet. Kinich lost count of the traps, the decaying pillars that threatened to collapse with each step, the puzzles and mechanisms clearly designed to keep intruders out. The place was a maze of broken stone and silent challenges, yet he felt a familiar surge of satisfaction with each step deeper into the heart of the ruin.

At last, he reached a final chamber, where the object of his commission stood on a dais—a fragment of the past unlike any he’d seen before, emanating a strange energy that felt older than time itself. It was no wonder his contractor had wanted it, though Kinich couldn’t begin to guess what it was for.

The moment his hand brushed the relic, a surge of ancient power pulsed through the room. Ajaw, strangely quiet but ever alert, shifted beside him, his eyes narrowing with a cautious awareness. And then, from the shadows, a voice drifted through the room, light and smooth with an undercurrent of menace.

“Well, well. Another little human wandered in.”

Kinich whirled, looking around through the darkness of the place for the source of the voice, when he finally met you.

The figure before him was both mesmerizing and unnervingly unnatural. Even as he felt his guard rise, there was no denying you were the most otherworldly, hauntingly beautiful being he had ever seen. But your draconic eyes betrayed your true nature. You were one of Ajaw’s kind, another ancient sealed entity—alive and as dangerous as the power coursing through the chamber.

Ajaw stirred, his presence crackling with a familiar hostility. “Hunf. Long time no see, (Y/N),” he greeted you, his tone a blend of wary sarcasm and grudging acknowledgment. 

You met his words with a raised brow and an amused smile.

“My, you’re still alive, Ajaw? And leaning on humans above all. How unfortunate,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms. Ajaw grumbled irritated earning a gaze from Kinich who was watching your interaction with almost amused interest. 

“So, human”, you said, your voice edged with a touch of boredom as you sat on a rock, “What do you want with me? What’s the plan? Drag me off to that contractor of yours perhaps?”

Kinich maintained his composure, though he was a bit surprised by how you already knew the reason why he stepped into your domain.

Without further ado, the hunter started to explain the details of his commission—he was the first, but surely he wouldn’t be the last either. 

The moment he finished, your expression twisted, a flicker of disdain evident.

“As if I’d go along with that. Typical mortals, always seeking what they don’t understand, eager to trap things they have no right to touch,” you hissed, earning a followed amused chuckling from Ajaw. 

You paused, the resentment burning in your chest, however, Kinich noted there was something else too as your eyes lingered on him.

Leaving your throne behind and stepping forward, your presence filling the space between all three of you. 

“I have a proposition for you only, though. A contract, let’s call it,” your smile was both inviting and taunting. “We’ll work together, for our mutual benefit. To be frank it is more for my selfish desire than to help you. I’m tired of talking to walls, you see,” your eyes traveled through his body before meeting his gaze again, “Surely, you wouldn’t want to go back with nothing, right?”

Kinich weighed your words carefully, his mind racing through the possibilities and costs. 

He already bore the weight of a pact with Ajaw, and he understood the price of balancing multiple contracts with creatures of such power. Yet the allure of your knowledge, your abilities, was too great to ignore.

Ajaw seemed to be on his edge, cursed both of you facing the absurdity of the offering and what it could bring. 

Nevertheless, Kinich’s mind was set already. With a final, steady breath, he nodded, sealing his decision. Your eyes flashed with a glint of satisfaction, your smirk widening into something altogether dangerous, seductive. You leaned on his ear, your voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“I look forward to working with you, Kinich.”

______________________________________________

That day, Kinich hadn’t earned a paycheck. However, he hadn’t left the ruins empty-handed, either.

From then on, his life became a delicate balance of managing two unpredictable forces. Ajaw, with his bristling sarcasm and an unending appetite for murder, had been challenging enough on his own. But adding you, with your teasing demands and cryptic ways, turned Kinich’s daily life into a finely tuned exercise in patience.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks to months with Kinich adapting himself to the peculiar rhythms of his two ancient companions. 

Ajaw kept volatile, ever-ready to lend his power with a razor-thin line between aid and sabotage. Kinich could call on his abilities freely; but each time, the pixelated dragon took the chance to push him to his limit, toying with him like prey and testing the boundaries of their contract.

You, however, were different. Your contract was filled with stipulations, each one more elusive than the last. Kinich could request your power, your wisdom on ancient lore and mystical ruins, your understanding of secrets hidden for centuries—but each favor required a price. 

He remember the first time he’d needed your help, you smiled wide and said, “Fetch me a Cecilia.”

At first, Kinich hadn’t thought much of it—a flower, seemingly simple enough. Then he realized that Cecilias only bloomed on the cliffs of Mondstadt, a land far from Natlan. And anyone leaving Natlan without permission of the Wayob risked losing themselves, a curse bound by ancient magic. 

That he’d managed to find one spoke to his sheer stubbornness, his ability to navigate through obstacles that should have been impossible.

When he’d finally placed the flower in your hand, your satisfaction had been infuriatingly clear.

It was never straightforward with you. Another time, he’d requested a map of an old ruin rumored to be full of hidden dangers. In return, you’d demanded a simple luxury—a crystal pendant, clear as water, something you could admire as you traveled through dark caves and shadowed forests. A trivial thing, but your smile as you held the pendant was somehow worth the trouble.

Through it all, Kinich found himself unwillingly entangled in your games, constantly navigating the space between the three of you, keeping a balance that was tenuous at best. And even as you continued to provoke him with your playful, cutting comments, he found himself grudgingly relying on you.

There were commissions where you proved to be an invaluable ally. Your intelligence was formidable; your strategies were sound, your insights swift, and you saw through traps that Kinich sometimes missed. Your pride might have been infuriating, but your strange loyalty, he realized, was something rare. 

You kept him on his toes with your challenging personality, pushing him to improve even as you drove him to distraction. And on rare nights, after a long day’s journey or a grueling fight, you’d sit in silence, the air between you calm and oddly comfortable. There were times, with the firelight flickering and casting shadows on your face, that he found himself almost… dazzled.

If he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t have done it differently. Not that he’d ever admit it to you.

Now, back to present on yet another commission, Kinich found himself partnered with you once more. 

Ajaw had declared the mission too dull to follow, muttering something about it being more suited to “(Y/N)’s ridiculous logic puzzles” than to his taste for battle. Kinich was grateful for the reprieve, though he knew the real challenge would be handling your endless demands and your habit of testing his patience.

You were intelligent and efficient, he could admit that much, but your sharp wit and flirtatious ways were exhausting. You never missed an opportunity to prod at him, to see if you could break through his carefully constructed guard.

As you two moved deeper into the cave, Kinich couldn’t help but feel your eyes on him, watching for every reaction, every flicker of emotion. 

You’ve made a sport of it, brushing close, a sly smile playing on your lips whenever you sensed his irritation, always aiming to get under his skin. And yet, you had an uncanny sense of his well-being. You’d sidestep a trap just in time, then look back to ensure he’d done the same. It was an odd, unspoken protection, one that both irritated and relieved him.

The ruin was as treacherous as any he’d encountered, with more than a few puzzles that made Kinich silently grateful for your presence. You disarmed traps, deciphered carvings he’d never have managed, and stepped through mazes with a precision that bordered on the supernatural. And though you complained all the way through, your pride and determination drove you to succeed.

You both just completed the commission, retrieving the artifact you’d come for, when you turned to him, wiping the dust from your hands. You gave him an amused look, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Well,” you started, your tone laced with that familiar teasing edge. “We’re done here.”

He nodded, grateful for the relative quiet that would follow—until you tilted your head, regarding him thoughtfully. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Kinich. More than usual. A mora for your thoughts?”

Your tone was light, almost offhand, but your gaze was anything but casual. Something was probing in the way you looked at him, as though searching for an answer he hadn’t voiced. The saurian hunter held your gaze, his own expression carefully neutral, as he considered his response.

He stood still, his gaze lingering. Kinich told himself it was merely to study your expression, to gauge your intentions. But his mind betrayed him, tracing the fine details of your face—from the sharp line of your jaw to the glint in your dragon-like eyes and the slight curve of your lips that seemed forever on the edge of a knowing smile. Your beauty was the kind that defied logic, pulling him in even as he resisted.

“It’s nothing,” he replied finally, his tone measured, distant. He turned, motioning for the two of you to leave. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

But you didn’t follow. Instead, you remained where you were, arms folded, head tilted to one side as if you’d only just begun to consider something. The look you gave him was a little too knowing, the glint in your eyes far too familiar. He knew that look of yours. Most of times it meant only thing one: problem.

“Kinich,” you said, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The hunter stopped, exhaling slowly as he turned to face you. His eyes narrowed. You were up to something—that much was clear. You had that dangerous, cat-like look about you, your gaze dark and sharp, as though sizing him up, anticipating his every move. He lifted an eyebrow, his voice a shade more cautious than he’d intended.

“And what would that be, (Y/N)?” he asked.

For a moment, you didn’t reply. Instead, you took a single step closer, your eyes never leaving his. He felt his pulse quicken, though he kept his expression blank.

You moved toward him slowly, a faint, predatory gleam in your eyes. You were close now, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, and could catch the hint of some exotic scent lingering in the air. A blend of something earthy and sweet, entirely unique to you.

Kinich steeled himself, forcing his mind to stay sharp, though he found himself captivated despite his best efforts. You paused just a breath away, your gaze flickering over him with the lazy, confident ease of someone who knew exactly the effect you had.

A hint of amusement crept into your smile. “It’s payback time,  Malipo”, you began, your voice low and smooth, laced with an almost sinister edge, “I’ve worked hard today, you see, so I’m feeling a bit… greedy.”

His eyes narrowed further.

“What do you want, (Y/N)?”

You giggled. “Oh, I could ask for any number of things,” you took a deep sigh and started to circle him. “Power… influence… control of your soul, even.”

He remained quiet. Your smile widened at his lack of reaction, your teeth flashing in the dim light of the ruins. You were enjoying this, taking your time, savoring every second as if you were unwrapping a carefully chosen gift.

“But…,” you murmured, drawing the word out, “I think I’m more fond of something else.” You paused, letting the silence build, each second stretching as you watched him, relishing his quiet wariness.

Finally, your eyes locked with his, and you spoke with deliberate slowness. “Kiss me.”

Silence.

For a moment, Kinich felt his mind go blank, his eyes widening briefly in stunned silence before he quickly regained control, his expression hardening. 

It had to be a game. Another one of your tricks, another way to unsettle him, to get under his skin. But your gaze didn’t waver, your expression calm, almost serene, though he saw the gleam of anticipation behind your eyes.

A dozen thoughts raced through his mind, each one colliding with the next. His heart hammered in his chest, the sound loud and unsteady, and yet he kept his face neutral, his stance calm. This was you, after all. You thrived on unsettling him, on watching him squirm—though he’d learned, over the months, never to give you the satisfaction of seeing his reactions.

But your eyes… you weren’t blinking, weren’t moving. You waited, utterly still, your lips curved into the faintest smirk as you watched him wrestle with himself. He almost thought he saw something genuine in your gaze, something more than the surface-level teasing, but he dismissed the thought quickly. You were you. Cocky, calculating—you had to be playing with him.

“Don’t tell me there’s something you can’t manage, Kinich,” you sighed, your tone equal parts challenge and mockery. “Well. That’s rather disappointing,” you turned, as if prepared to leave, already dismissing the moment with that same enigmatic smile.

Without fully thinking, Kinich’s hand shot out, catching you by the wrist. You stilled, surprise flickering across your face before you concealed it, though your eyes flashed with something he couldn’t name yet. 

For a heartbeat, you stood in silence, your pulse quick and light beneath his fingers. Slowly, he drew you toward him, his arm encircling your waist, anchoring you against him as his other hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

He exhaled a soft, reluctant sigh. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he murmured, his voice laced with resignation.

You only laughed softly, a sound that was both daring and pleased, and he could feel your smirk against his skin as he leaned down, finally pressing his lips to yours.

The first contact was a mere tentative brush, barely more than a fleeting touch between your mouths. It was a moment suspended in uncertainty, as though both were testing the boundaries of this unexpected closeness. 

For a breath, you held still, neither moving nor daring to deepen it. But something simmered beneath the surface, a quiet intensity that broke through the silence with an undeniable pull.

Before either could pull away, though, the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, an unspoken desire erupting between you two. 

Kinich’s hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer, feeling the warmth of your body pressed to his. He could taste the faint, exotic sweetness of your lips as you yielded to him instantly, only to counter with your own ferocity. But it was when your lips parted that a dam seemed to break. 

Eagerly, Kinich took this opportunity and deepened the kiss, your tongues meeting in a dance of defiance and passion. There was a taste of something otherworld in you, a hint of mystery and danger that drew him in even as it warned him. But he ignored the caution, letting himself be consumed by the moment, by the heat, by the softness of your mouth against his, the way you met his every movement with your own, never yielding, never backing down.

It was a silent battle, a clash of wills and sublime frustration as each sought to take the lead, the kiss growing fierce and excited, your breaths mingling with a fervor you could no longer contain.

Your hands slid up from his chest, your touch lingering, savoring the feel of him as your fingers trailed up his neck and into his hair. You tugged slightly, demanding, as if daring him to give you more. Your fingertips were cool yet electric against his skin, igniting something primal, something he rarely let surface.

Kinich responded instinctively, his own restraint slipping as he pressed you back, guiding you toward the rough wall of the ruin. The space between you dissolved entirely as your back met the stone as he lifted you, the pressure of his body firm, claiming.

Your breaths grew heavier. Your hands gripped both his hair and shoulder, your nails lightly pressing into his skin. His hand slid from your waist, tracing the curve of your thighs and ass, pressing your body into his as though anchoring you there. Every inch of him was focused on you, on the feel of you against him, on the pulse of energy that crackled between you, too powerful to ignore.

When you finally broke apart, the world around seemed to settle, the heavy silence filling the air once more. 

Kinich’s breathing was ragged, his pupils wide, and dilated, his pulse still pounding with an intensity he rarely allowed himself to feel. He could feel the warmth of your breath still lingering close, your lips barely an inch apart, almost as if you were challenging him to give in again.

Your expression was slightly unfocused, your usual composure replaced by something vulnerable, exposed. Kinich caught himself enjoying this version of you. There was a faint flush across your cheeks, a look of astonishment that you quickly masked, though it didn’t disappear entirely. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke the weight of what had just happened hanging heavy, charged with unspoken thoughts, things that might have been, things neither of you would admit.

And then you chuckled softly, your voice laced with amusement, your lips curving into a smirk. “My,” you murmured, your tone both teasing and provocative, “I didn’t expect that. Although I can’t say I didn’t like it either.” You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with a playful glint. “As always, it’s a pleasure to do business with you, Kinich.”

Kinich didn’t reply immediately, his gaze steady, his expression indecipherable, but there was a depth in his eyes that betrayed him, a lingering trace of something he couldn’t quite banish. 

With a sigh, he finally stepped back, putting a carefully measured distance between you. “Anytime,” he said, his voice low, raspy. “So? Let’s get out of here?”

He turned, giving you space to follow, his demeanor returning to its usual calm, composed state. 

Yet as he moved, he couldn’t ignore the lingering taste of you on his lips, the faint, intoxicating trace that refused to fade. The rational part of him knew this shouldn’t change things—that it couldn’t. You were tied by a pact, bounded by terms he should have expected. This was simply one of your “favors,” a twist you’d added, nothing more.

But as you left the ruins, a sense of awareness settled within him, the quiet realization that for all his caution, he’d succumbed, letting himself be drawn into your orbit, your game. It was dangerous, foolish even, to think this meant anything, to risk feeling for someone who thrived on unpredictability and cunning.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the way you had looked at him, the warmth of your touch, the sensation that still lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

And though he would bury it, push it away, he knew, somewhere in the depths of his guarded heart, that this would stay with him, a taste of something forbidden, lingering, marking him in a way he’d never intended.

I need Suna rintaro to be stupid fucking sensitive.

I need him to be an absolute wreck anytime you do anything to him, just because his body is so reactive, so desperate for your touch that the smallest affection has him into a putty.

Drag your nails over his arms? He’s whining softly. Whispering in his ear? He sinks his teeth into his lip. Sponging kisses against his jaw? He angles his head shamelessly.

There’s something you do to him, there’s something about your mere existence that has him excited to no end, always ready for your intoxicating touch that has him reeling for more.

Even now, with his back pressed to your chest and your nails softly drawing over the flesh of his shoulders, he feels a pleasured trail glide up and down his spine.

He says nothing, merely melting into your touch and letting his eyes flutter close and body curl deeper against you.

But then your touch slithers down and over his abs, which tighten under your warm fingers.

“Do not,” he snarls, albeit unthreatening.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I’m just giving my boyfriend affection.” Your nails get caught on the rim of his navel, and he feels his cock twitch. “If you can’t handle it, that’s on you.”

"You know I can't,” he whimpers as his hips chase an invisible touch, circling slightly as he looks up at you with betrayed eyes. A pressure broils in the pit of his stomach, tightening softly as your nails tease the softness of his happy trail, fingers tracing the small, thin hairs. He arches his back, pressing his shoulders against your chest, but your gentle touch still follows.

If anything, you adjust yourself to sit up straighter, and your free hand slinks down his chest to play with his nipple, and he squeezes his thighs tight.

“Awww,” you coo, and if looks could kill, you’d be dead and slumped over him. “I just love loving on my sensitive boy.”

“Don’t f-ha!- fhuuuucking, don’t call me that,” he grumbles through gritted teeth, and that only earns him a pinch of his nipple and a small tickle on his stomach.

It’s maddening, and he cries out and shrinks at the sensation.

“Behave,” you snarl. “Talk less, and feel good, baby.”

"I don't wanna come like this," he pleads. Not right now, not in his sweatpants, not under absolutely no touch to the manhood contained in his boxers and far as possible from having a reaction by your touch, not when you’re enjoying this so much it’s concerning, not now not now not now-

“You’re just too sensitive,” you sigh dramatically. Your hands gently press into the dip of his hips, making him whine at the tickly, yet relaxing sensation.

His jaw slacks to let a shuddery moan out.

“Please,” he huffs, rutting his hips upwards. His thighs are tight together, desperate to edge him to a high that you put him on. “Fuck- please, keep going-“

“I’m not even going to touch your cock and you’re going to come just like this?”

And he is. He is, he fucking is, he’s gonna paint the inside of his sweatpants like a damn virgin, all from you scratching at his happy trail and drawing your nails over the ridges of his abs. He’s going to come, come so hard he sees stars and fuck you for fucking doing this to him.

You stop.

Your hand stills, fingers stop their trailing and slowly slip over his hip, then to his chin where you pull him into a kiss. He whines and chases you into the kiss, tongue trying to hook you in deeper and coerce you into giving him more attention.

“Gonna have to condition you hate this,” you coo, sinking your teeth into the meat of his lip. “How else am I supposed to love on my man if he’s gonna paint the inside of his shorts every time?”

with a whine and a grunt of agony, he gently pulls back, burrowing into your neck to hide the embarrassment of being so close to the edge of an orgasm from sheerly being touched by the heavenly fingers adorning your body that have him in a tizzy more than enough times.

"I cant stand you," he grumbles.

"Love you too, my sensitive boy."

"Shut up!"

prime alpha!tobio and his beta assistant—who's lived an easy, comfortable life free from the shackles and rigid hierarchical expectations of a secondary gender—who falls unexpectedly ill despite being in good health, with no known cause.

you're bed-ridden in your illness, unable to perform your usual duties—it's the first time in the year you've been working for him that you've missed a single day, and yet you're absent for almost a week. your symptoms include a low-grade fever, a strange abdominal discomfort, and just a lingering feeling that sits under your skin like something is wrong.

you visit the doctor who runs a series of tests, and though nothing comes back conclusively, the doctor sits you down and asks you some questions about your daily life. maybe it's stress, maybe an allergy, maybe some environmental factor has brought this mysterious illness on. but when your physician hears about your work, her expression changes. she consults the test results again, eyes scanning over the reports raptly. her final remark (and the pamphlets she sends you home with) all point to one thing.

tobio stares down at the piece of paper you've placed before him with a pensive, irritated furrow upon his brow.

"what's this?" he asks, his cold gaze lifting towards you.

you have your head lowered in a bow—the lines of your body rigid and uncomfortable as you stoop in deference.

"my resignation," you say, your voice thick but surprisingly meek.

"why?" tobio asks, something flaring in the centre of his chest. it burns like anger, but there's something more there too. something primal and animalistic that tells him, goads him, to fight.

you still don't lift your head. "i'm sorry."

that's not an answer, you both know it, and before tobio knows what he's doing, he's already crossed the room and snatched your wrist up in his hand. when your eyes meet his in surprise, there are tears in them. from this close (the closest he's ever been to you, he thinks) there's no mistaking the way they shimmer upon your lash line—how they well up the longer you look at him.

you're trembling, your knees wobbling underneath you, and tobio worries for a moment that you might buckle in onto yourself.

"i can't," you warble, "you—you're making my body weird," you say, lifting your hand up to your face and clamping it over your mouth and nose. tobio pauses, realizing that he's been polluting the air around both of you with pheromones ever since you placed the letter of resignation upon the table before him.

but you've never been susceptible to that before.

he processes this slowly while you tremble, his hand still tightly wrapped around your wrist.

his eyes widen.

saliva floods his mouth.

there's no way he can accept your resignation now.

<3

deaf!Bakugou teaching you sign, his rough hands over yours as he shows your fingers what to do, his red eyes intense as he watches you practice, the soft huffs of laughter when you mess up. deaf!Bakugou patting your head as he leaves, the only sign that he's pleased with your progress. you'd never guess his heart was pounding in his chest as he taught you the sign for "together."

dynamight is clearly trying to go unnoticed in the grocery store, but you recognize him, anyway, despite the mask and low-pulled hat. knowing makes you feel even worse about approaching him—because you'd be too afraid to, otherwise—but you're not sure what else to do at this point.

you lean in close to him as he's standing in front of the produce, poking through the same bin.

"ooh, we need to get an onion, too, remember?"

he startles enough away from you that you can feel the foundation of your last ditch efforts crumbling. even beneath his hat, his light eyebrows pull down hard, gaze narrowing, and on the other end of such a fiery glare, you're reminded exactly why you've never wanted to meet him before: he's terrifying, handsome as he is.

"hah—"

you smile at him and hope it looks real, squishing into the space he's created even though your hands are shaking. "the guy by the juice followed me all around the store from the parking lot and i don't know what else to do." you widen your eyes, and you want to look, you do, but your facade is hanging on by a thread. "please help me."

dynamight swallows, and you hope his expression only seems so guarded because you're so close; enough to smell his subtle yet sharp cologne, to see the dark blonde wisps of his eyelashes. when he blinks, they brush against his mask, feather-light.

"okay," he nods once, and the gravel of his voice makes your stomach turn in some teenage way, that has your cheeks flaring.

(this is really not the time to be getting shy.)

he doesn't look towards the juice either, thankfully, and instead adjusts his stance, leaning into you in return, large and wide and formidable enough to nearly shield you from view. "an onion, huh? think we got one at home."

you can feel the warm press of his body against your own and it has you releasing a breath that had been trapped deep in your chest, has tears stinging behind your eyes. the sharp pain in your sternum lessens, and when you feel his hand come up to sit, carefully, against your lower back, dynamight murmurs,

"y'r alright,"

and you are.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 1,820

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji’s birthday! this piece was originally titled as “adoration” but I changed it to this instead. I’m taking a small posting break, but I’ll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I’m sorry if I haven’t been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you’re all having a wonderful time and I’m sending all my well wishes out to you! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he’s oh so in love

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