#and for another kid they let him almost kill himself he was so close to dying but they didnt gaf at all

[vampyrehospital]

does long term mental health treatment actually help anyone? like at what point does it do more harm than good to put someone already suffering in such a traumatic environment where they cant socialize or have any privacy

[blkkizzat]

YAKUZA!TOJI X MILF!READER —aka toji on some joe goldberg bullshit

🎞️ 𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟐:

⟢ rating: mdni 18+ stalking, yuji is yakuza!sukuna x reader child, toji is still delulu af, size-kink, milf kink, breeding kink, voyeurism, dilf!toji, dissociative sexual fantasies, sukuna is an asshole, masturbation, killing fantasies, obsessive tendencies, heavy manipulation, brooding, yandere fluff, cute kid megumi.

⟢ episode run time: 𝟖.𝟕𝐤 ⟢ episode list: m.list ⟢ subscriber access: please comment on m.list to be tagged, rather than individual episodes as its easier for me to track. ⟢ director's note: e2 is here!! sorry for the initial issues! i hope you guys enjoy as we go deeper into toji's delulu, it's so much fun writing from his perspective. i feel like with each epi he only gets worse, hfsvsdjkfhvbsdj. he's still daddy tho.

The sky has since fallen completely dark, but the city lights of Tokyo still twinkle brightly in the distance, drowning out any stars. The light pollution still appears beautiful though, as a comforting beacon of civilization in the surrounding darkness.

The atmosphere, which had previously been so violently vibrant, has now quieted to a muted calm as the world slows down, whipping cool night air around Toji’s tense frame on his balcony.

However, it does fuck all to soothe the seared edges of his temper. 

Nor does the serene scene do anything to calm the heated exchange still taking place inside your condo.

Your domestic dispute with Sukuna fiercely rages on.

Toji savors the last few puffs of his cigarette before discarding it and quickly lighting another. Chain smoking is his last salvation, lest the persistent urge to protect you completely overtakes him and causes him to act rashly.

The current state of the organization had suspicions at an all-time high. Toji couldn’t afford that considering who he was dealing with and what all could come in between the two of you should he err from the plan. 

Closing his eyes, Toji manages to regain control by doing the one thing that never failed to pacify him—thinking of you, of course. 

Both the sweet poison and the bitter antidote to Toji, you do nothing but constantly plague his psyche. 

But perhaps it’s that he knows you need him as much as he realizes he needs you. 

Over the course of time he had watched you, it didn’t take long for Toji to conclude that you only chose to remain with Sukuna for the security he provided. Preservation and the obligations of motherhood were the only logical motivations you could have.

It was glaringly apparent that Sukuna didn’t love you. 

Even a blind man could see the truth of it.

Sukuna only visited you on rare occasions, when yakuza business took him beyond the central city limits, as Toji’s own surveillance and connections had revealed. 

And whenever he did show up, it usually led to arguments between the two of you. If you had indeed loved Sukuna at one point you weren’t foolish enough to hold onto any of those illusions now. 

Moreover, the subject of illusions—Toji had been privy to having many fantasies of you.

Weathering away at the stone around his heart he strived his whole life to build—only to then rebuild once again after his late wife—addictingly sweet visions of you so swiftly demolish the walls he set in place.

Toji allowed himself many hopeful images of what life could be like with you. 

A life of ease. 

That said, it would never be too easy. 

Toji is still a yakuza himself and he knew the organization would never let him walk away entirely. 

Nevertheless, his role was somewhat unique—an executive assassin was almost unheard of. Toji took on as many kills as he did as a way to numb and distract himself, not because it was required of him or he couldn’t pass it off to another. And ever since he’d laid eyes on you he had no desire to busy himself with anything other than you.

Toji takes pleasure in knowing he wouldn’t ever have to be away from you for long too. 

As it happens, he already owns a spacious five-bedroom home just outside Tokyo in Chiba—the previous home he had hoped to share with his late wife. Toji had planned to surprise her with it once she left the hospital.

Yet instead of leaving the hospital with Megumi’s mother by his side, Toji had walked out alone—only an urn in hand. Numbed to the world, he tightly gripped the sleek black urn that mockingly held her remains—along with his shattered hopes.

And as a result, no one had even crossed the threshold since the purchase was made.

But that would change though now that there would be the four of you to breathe life into the home.

Who else could give you that kind of life but Toji? 

Certainly not Sukuna.

Toji would give you everything if you let him—but you weren’t an easy conquest, something he learned quickly as you prove it to him time and time again.

Toji recalls your second encounter with sharpened clarity.

⟡

It had taken Toji only two weeks to meticulously study your habits. The encounter had been carefully orchestrated, but despite his planning, the day hadn’t quite unfolded as Toji anticipated to say the least.

Parked down on the block of your typical walking path, Toji sat in his blacked-out Mercedes, keeping an eye on his rear-view mirror monitoring your approach. The mirror also showed Megumi, who was peacefully dozing in the backseat.

Heh, yeah he’d made damn sure to have the kid with him back then too.

Hardly older than 18 months and already a lady-killer, Megumi never failed to melt the heart of any woman who laid eyes upon his abundant chubby-cheeked cuteness. 

Not like Toji had ever really needed to expend the effort before now. He knew just a mere look from him could get panties leaking, but you’d be harder to conquer than that. 

Toji would enjoy taking his time, which if he thought about previously he would have deemed odd—he’d never been one to hold himself back or take his time with a woman.  

Not anymore. 

Not since her at least. 

But the agony that had accompanied thoughts of his late wife had dulled considerably since he’d first started observing you. 

A bonus of that being it no longer hurts as much to see Megumi—not when he would picture you rocking him in your arms.

Toji had even gone so far as to believe that she would have approved, that she would have liked you. He imagined she would have gladly chosen you to take care of both Megumi and him if she’d known you.

A familiar form appears in the rear-view mirror and Toji knows it’s game time.

Here you were, a reward for his diligence in tracking your habits, right on schedule.

Your features sparkled in the summer sun as you pushed Yuji along in his stroller, humming a tune while the child giggled along clapping. 

The kid’s bubbly deposition had to come from you, Toji decided—surely none of it could have come from, nor been influenced by, Sukuna. 

Toji wondered if you could even make a somber child like Megumi smile.

Biding in-wait until you passed, Toji snatched up Megumi and kept far enough distance so as to not alarm you of his presence. 

His original plan had been to exit the car as you passed by and walk into the store together. But that all changed when Toji got the first glimpse of what you were wearing. 

Toji would avoid being noticed by you, but your attire made it near impossible for him not to notice you.

The dress you wore was barely made modest enough to wear in public by the cardigan you draped over it. A less curvaceous woman could have likely pulled it off without turning a head.  

However on your body, the way the thin loose fabric hung off your shape as it clung onto the moist areas of perspiration like a second skin—was fucking obscene. 

Especially as despite your continued efforts, the crack of your ass kept gobbling up your sundress no matter how many times you subtly tried to yank it free.

Toji bet your ass could swallow his cock up just as well. 

Damn.

Toji wished the walkup to the store was longer. 

He’d never been one for prayer, but he would have started if whatever God deemed it fit right at that very moment to send an unanticipated gust of wind. 

Your lack of panty line had his mind racing as to whether you wore a thong or were just slutty enough to be outside bare-assed in a short sundress mid-afternoon.

The green of your sundress matched his eyes too and Toji took it as another sign from the universe, he was on the right path by pursuing you like this.

You were doing this intentionally just to tease him, weren't you? 

Hoping he’d see you like this and to tempt him into taking a peek, right?

Entering the grocery store, Megumi seated in-cart, Toji continued tailing you as you shopped.

True to the homemaker he previously confirmed you to be, you picked up mostly fresh produce, prime cuts of meat from the butcher, and some pantry baking items. 

You were capable of more than just the frozen dinners he’d be more accustomed to if not for his Nanny’s cooking. She was a decent enough cook too—but she wasn’t you. 

Nothing she cooked smelled a fraction as good as the mostly foreign, but appetizing, smells that wafted from under your door to fill the hall with warm spices.

The food you would make him, once Toji gets you settled in your new home, would definitely be much better. 

You were truly perfect, well nearly so.

After tailing you down a few aisles, Toji suspects the one minor flaw you may have is you appeared to be the absentminded type. 

How else could you be disregarding his overbearing presence as he continuously had put himself in your line of vision? Restlessness overtook Toji as he waited for you to look up and catch his eye, giving him a casual opening.

You had been too consumed with your phone to notice his attempts— which if he would guess, wouldn’t be successful anytime soon. 

Grumbling, Toji had to take matters into his own hands if he wanted to shop with you at all.

Easy enough too, you were already so carelessly distracted.

Momentarily taking his eyes off you, Toji calculated how long it would take you to reach the end of the aisle. So as you moved from one aisle to the next, he casually nudged his cart into your path, creating a T-bone collision that made it look like you were at fault for leaving the aisle.

The bang was jolting enough to finally draw your attention.

“OH MY GOD! I WASN’T WATCHING WHERE I WAS GOING! I’M SO SORRY– I-I …Fushiguro?!”

Heh, took ya long enough to notice. 

“Well, hey doll. Long time no see, ma.”

A flagrant lie. 

Toji had seen you nearly everyday—you just hadn’t seen him. 

He could tell you were flustered and embarrassed as multiple heads in the store had turned towards the two of you from the rattling collision. 

You couldn’t apologize enough to Toji who was on cloud nine from your attention focused on him.

And as Toji had predicted, your attention was soon stolen by the black spikey haired baby boy seated in his cart.

“Oh wow Fushiguro!!—” 

“—Toji, ma.”

A smirk bloomed across his features as you rolled your eyes at him, continuing your affections towards Megumi.

“—I remember you said you had a son but I didn’t know you had a little mini-me, he’s so adorable!”

Toji didn’t fail to notice the double—no triple, take you had given between himself and Megumi. 

He also couldn't help but see how your big ass tiddies looked—like they wanted to bounce right outta that sundress and into his mouth—as you bent down to get a closer look at Megumi. 

No bra too?

Oh, you’d surely be the death of him.

But Toji's cock wasn’t the only part of him swelling, his heart rate sped like crazy just from watching you fuss over Megumi so apologetically—much like a loving mom soothing her own child at the sight of him sniffling back tears. 

For a moment, Yuji’s giggling drew Toji’s attention as the boisterous kid seemed to think it was some sort of ride. Needing no comfort at all, Yuji merrily squealed with laughter at the impact, continuing to stuff rice puff snacks into his little face.

The distraction kept Toji from warning you not to pick up Megumi and before he Toji knew what was happening— you scooped Megumi up. Settling Megumi into your arms, Toji noted you cradled him with the same joy radiating from you as you did Yuji—and much to Toji’s shock—Megumi let you.

It went without saying that Megumi wasn't the friendliest kid. 

Toji suspected he had inherited that from him, along with his trademark scowl. The little terror was known to pitch a screaming fit if someone other than Toji or his nanny picked him up. 

However, in your hold, Megumi appeared calm—angel-like even—as far as Toji was concerned.

More curious than upset, Megumi's tears dried at the corners of his eyes as he reached out to gently bop your nose with his tiny fist.

“Aye! Manners, kiddo.”

Toji chides Megumi, but inside he is amazed by the interaction. 

Returning the gesture, you softly boop Megumi's nose with the pad of your finger, causing him to grab it in defiance, as you offered him softly whispered apologies for upsetting him.

This served to confirm in Toji’s mind the place you belonged in his life. 

He couldn’t be wrong about you. 

You were perfect.

Everything was aligning better than he could have hoped for.

“No harm done ma, Megumi can take a lick. Just like his daddy.” 

You shook your head at Toji and gently rubbed soothing circles on Megumi’s back, cooing at him.

“Oh? So you’re growing up strong like your daddy, huh, Megumi?”

Megumi tilted his head slightly, his thumb resting gently in his mouth.

“Just don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re smooth like he does.”

You shot Toji a teasing smirk, immediately resulting in a half chub pressed against his suit pants.

Now you were… teasing him? 

Oh, you had no fucking idea just how smooth Toji could be when he wanted. And Toji planned to put 3 more kids inside of you soon too, just as smoothly.

Those facts withstanding, Toji could tell his son hadn’t quite made up his mind about you yet. Megumi just blinked at you, but the fact that he wasn't screaming his head off was good enough for Toji.

“Don’t let the blank stare fool you, ma, he likes you. Trust, ya would know if he didn’t. Just takes him a while to warm up to most folks.”

You gave Toji another playful smile.

“Hmm, and wonder who he got that from?”

Primal urges surged in his veins as Toji wanted nothing more than to grab you in his arms at that moment, although Toji settled for countering with a smirk of his own.

“We’re not that bad ma—once you get to know us.”

Toji flashed a toothy grin at you, amused by the upward pull at the corners of your lips as you tried and failed, not to be entertained by him. 

You gently set Megumi back down in the cart, smoothing down his onesie and safely buckling him in before turning back to Toji.

“I’m sure Megumi is a perfectly sweet kid, who just needs to come into his own a bit.”

“Eh? And whadda ‘bout me, mamas?”

“The jury is still out on you—Fushiguro.”

“—Toji,” he corrected once again—and again you responded by rolling your pretty eyes under those long thick lashes of yours.

Oh, Toji had just the thing for that ass since you liked to roll your eyes back that much. 

Toji imagined how deeply they’d be lodged into your head once he stuffed you full of his fat cock—all in one go—effectively pushing your guts up into your chest. 

Yeah, he had it bad for you—real bad.

Unable to stop the many intrusive sexual thoughts that would spring in his mind just from being close enough to smell the scent of your sweet vanilla and jasmine perfume.

Yet Toji couldn’t let the chance pass to press his limits with you.

“So—How about ya give me y’er number so we can set up a playdate, eh? Since ya think Megumi’s such a sweet kid and all, mamas.” 

Caught off guard, you looked away from Toji in contemplation, chewing on your lip.

“Hm... I-I don't think that’s such a good idea, Fushiguro.”

You shift your stance a bit, taking on a defensive posture. 

Tch, fuck. You’d be harder to crack than Toji originally thought. 

Plus you seemed to still have some loyalty to Sukuna, even if you held no love for him.

But that was all fine, Toji calculates—a good thing even.

That just meant you would be all the more loyal to him once he did have you.  

Thinking on his feet, Toji subtly switches tactics, playing dumb as he lifts a brow.

“Toji, doll, but ya know what I do for work. Think I gots time to be babysitting brats? What, s’not a good idea for the nanny to bring Gumi by?”

“Oh! Of course the nanny! Yeah that’s fine, erm, that's… sorry. I thought—”

“—thought, what mamas? You tryna get a playdate with me too? ”

Toji couldn’t hold back his laughter as your eyes widened in shock. 

Embarrassment washed over you like a tsunami, intensified by Toji's teasing. You hid half your face with one hand while the other gripped the grocery cart handle so tightly that Toji half-expected it to snap off.

“Kiddin’ ma—lighten up a ‘lil eh? Ya left y’erself wide open for that one, doll.”

Sighing in defeat, you finally conceded to his charms, exchanging numbers with him solely so his nanny could coordinate the playdates.

“I see you think you got jokes, Fushiguro.”

Toji relished the win as your smile returned. 

“Ya know I do—and it's Toji, mama.”

With that shift, Toji was pleased to see you gradually lower your guard around him, the ice between you started to melt. You continued your shopping together, Toji casually picking up a few items, occasionally seeking your advice on what to feed Megumi.

Truth be told, he had no idea. The nanny always handled all the shopping.

Subtly taking the lead in the conversation, Toji casually provoked you into revealing more about yourself. Details he couldn’t piece together—like where you grew up, what your life was like before Japan and what brought you here—all which he cataloged meticulously in his mind. 

Toji wanted to ask how a smart girl planning to be a doctor with a full-ride exchange program scholarship to Tokyo University got knocked up by a dumb fuckhead like Ryomen Sukuna—but the very last thing he wanted you to think about when you were with him was Sukuna.  

However, each piece of information he learned of you convinced him more of how much he wanted you—

“Oh yeah, Fushiguro! Despite what you said, I actually managed to make a friend!”

–all to himself.

Tch, a fuckin’ friend?

Toji’s demeanor darkened, but you didn’t notice—too busy humming to yourself while checking apples for bruises in the produce section.

Not like this information came as a particular surprise to him, Toji's eyes narrowed as he could guess exactly who it was right away.

Toji had seen the tall raven-haired woman whose afternoon jogs in the park so-conveniently aligned with your walks with Yuji. You both would exchange pleasantries as she admired your son, and you her commitment to fitness, that you would say you never seemed to have the time for these days. 

Yet your interactions from what he had seen never ventured much beyond that. 

Although Toji would normally oblige you a few friends, having a friend here would complicate his plans.

The women of The Nursery up until now had done such a good job in isolating you all on their own without him having to lift a finger. Toji was relying on their catty caste system to ultimately drive you into his arms, as the only person you could rely on.

Toji couldn’t have one of them ruin that. 

He needed to know more about this ‘friend’ of yours. 

How well have you gotten to know each other? 

And in what ways?

The fact that this development happened right under his watchful eye, without him knowing the depth of it, had Toji cross to say the least.

Thankfully, your isolation had you starved for an attentive ear, so you were eager to spill your guts about your new friend to him. 

And as the good future husband he’d be to you, Toji was sure to listen now as he would in the future—or at least appear like he was most of the time.

“She’s new like me! Well, not new I suppose, but back for a stay here with her fiancé until things calm down due to all the commotion happening overseas now.”

So that woman did intend to leave. 

Good. 

The sooner the better so Toji’s own hand wouldn’t have to be forced and your little ‘friend’ could be spared. 

Toji couldn’t have anything nor anyone coming in between the two of you—no matter the consequences from who they were associated with.

“She doesn’t have any kids so I’ve been giving her tips and sharing how I dealt with Yuji this past year. She always seems to be busy though, so we haven’t really had the chance to really do anything—but she calls me often.”

Toji’s teeth clenched. 

They dared to make phone contact even?

And bad girl—you’d been so eager to give this stranger, who had no respect for boundaries, your number but you hesitated with him?

What did Toji need to do to show you he was the only one with your best interests in mind?

Toji was the only one you should have confided in and the only one you should trust.

“Heh, well isn’t that nice, ma.”

Toji would have to figure out how to deal with the problem of your new friend at a later time. He didn’t want to spend the fleeting moments he had remaining with you brooding, as it was sure to soon show on his face and sour the mood.

Pivoting the subject back to just the two of you, Toji inquired about the baked goods he’s still owed. He could tell you’d forgotten already, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity he had to taste your cooking. 

It would keep him sated long enough until he could actually taste you.

“Ya know, I usually don’t like sweets though.”

Toji told you when you asked his favorite dessert and you were genuinely determined you could bake him something he’d like.

“Hmm, you know I can make a mean fudge brownie! I make them with semi-sweet chocolate too. Plus, since I moved here I also cut some sugar and added matcha to the recipe, so they wouldn’t be too sweet. they are so gooey they melt in your mouth.”

“Heh, yeah—I bet you would too, ma.”

This time, you didn’t suppress your amused cackle as you shook your head and pushed your cart forward, still overall ignoring his persistent flirtations even if you were growing more comfortable with them.

Toji sensed the playful personality you’d kept tightly wrapped under all those layers from being with Sukuna, whose cruel sense of humor would only serve to crush yours. 

Toji couldn’t wait to be the one to fully draw it back out of you.

“Ugh—boy, you play too much, Fushiguro!”

Toji chuckled, pushing his cart along after yours—he could tell your cheeks were still burning though. 

“—Toji, ma.”

When you both finally reached the register, Toji checked out first, slyly sliding his card to cover your groceries as well.

You were completely unaware though, having left your cart with him in line while you rushed Yuji to the bathroom.

Yuji, being the growing boy that he was, had devoured his rice snacks too quickly and promptly spat them back up all over himself.

Feeling smug in his chivalry, Toji anticipated seeing an even sweeter smile when you returned to find your groceries already paid for.

Yet, he’d seemingly made another miscalculation with you. 

As when you returned to see your groceries bagged and paid for, you kept Yuji in your arms as you placed your bags of groceries in the stroller itself, storming out without a word leaving behind a dumbfounded Toji.

Toji was more than puzzled as you seemed furious at the fact Toji had done what he deemed to be ‘a-nice-thing-any-woman- would-want’. 

The fuck happened?!

Shifting Megumi and own bag in his arms, Toji swiftly pursued you. 

“Oy, mamas!”

You ignored him but Toji wouldn’t give up on you easily, or at all truthfully. 

You didn’t realize that yet but Toji figured you must have gathered he was bullheaded enough to keep following you until you acknowledged him once you abruptly stopped and whipped around to face him.

“What, no ‘thank you’ f’er me, ma?”

Toji watched your nostrils flare as you angrily snapped at him.

“Thank you?!” 

God, you were beautiful—even pissed off. 

Toji knows he should be more focused on what you were saying in the moment, as you heatedly gave him a piece of your mind. However, Toji zoned out momentarily, unable to quiet his internal thoughts that screamed to him how pretty you were with your brow furrowed and cheeks puffed in indignation. 

“... and furthermore you think you can just buy me, is that it?! That just because I have to rely on Sukuna and accept living in a building full of side hoes to give Yuji a comfortable life that I’ll just giggle and go along with anything like the rest of those bitches?!”

Shit. 

You were actually pissed. 

Ah fuck. 

Toji had greatly underestimated your self-worth. Once again, you proved him wrong—and once more, that pleased him. It further highlighted how you were in fact a pearl among The Nursery pigs.

“Uh, Fuck mamas, er–I-I…no–”

Yet you proved to be such a wildcard that you had Toji of all people stuttering as he scrambled to find the right words to appease you.

“—then what?! Say something!”

Toji had to think fast. 

He could see how it looked bad now, but in a rare form from his usual nature, Toji’s intentions had been honest. Toji really just wanted to show you he had the means and could take care of you—not to buy you. 

Nonetheless, Toji only had himself to blame as he’s sure you’ve heard of his far less than pious reputation. 

Ostracized or not, the bougie women of The Nursery were terrible gossips and he was sure you’d overheard plenty less than savory information about him. 

Of course, with all things considered, you’d assume the worst of him.  

But Toji had never even bothered to learn any of those bitches names, much less buy them anything—they would give him gifts.

In this situation though, to quell your anger and regain your favor, Toji devised a quick lie, hoping it would smooth things over.

“Tch,” he began, scratching the back of his head and awkwardly looking away from you.

He had to be sure to sell it. 

“No, it’s just ah, the guy—er, the teller. He assumed we were together.” 

Toji shifted his stance, adjusting a drowsy Megumi in his arms.

“So, you told him we were…?” 

You raised a brow, huffing but you didn’t seem as angry as before. Toji saw your eyes soften a bit, distracted by a cute lil' yawn from Megumi who sleepily burrowed his face deeper into his shoulder.

Good kid, lookin out for y’er old man, aye Gumi?

Seeing how Megumi was disarming you, Toji knew this was his chance at redemption. Like a gentle giant, Toji’s large hand dwarfed his son’s small head with affection pats—an action he had picked up from observing you.

“Not exactly—but I supposed it looked that way, ma. What with the kids n’ya leaving all y’er shit with me n’all. Easier to just pay then explain.”

Toji continued before you could say anything, seeing as you didn’t look quite convinced.

“Trust me, from all of what you told me today, I know ya can take care of y’erself mamas… even if you are with that asshole.”

You regarded Toji with a scrutinizing gaze for all of a minute, yet that minute felt like hours to him. 

He couldn’t remember feeling this uneasy ever—and being in the Yakuza put him in several situations in the past he thought he wouldn’t make it out of. 

“Fine,” you resigned with a sigh, “It’s whatever then.” 

Seeing that you had set aside the words you originally intended to scold him with, Toji felt that this was the best possible outcome he could have hoped for.

Well shit, bullet dodged.

“Uh yeah, well…I’ll see you around then Fushiguro—”

Toji couldn’t just let you leave like this, on uneasy terms with your frustration still evident.

“—Wait ma!”

And even more so as Toji stopped you once again.

“Look…I ain’t too big to admit I fucked up, mamas. Let me make it up to ya, yeah? Give ya a ride back so ya don’t hafta walk back in this heat?”

Toji knew you wanted to reject his offer out of pride, but he was serious now—there was no fuckin’ way he was gonna let you walk back. 

Your load of groceries was way more than your usual trips, and on top of carrying Yuji, a sizable boy for his age, your purse and pushing the stroller would turn a 15 minute walk into a 25 minute one easily. 

The scorching summer sun perched high at its peak at this time of day and the thick, near suffocating, humidity could easily turn to heat exhaustion—especially for a young toddler.

He knew you knew that too.

You’d have to accept, per Toji’s calculations.

And you did.

“Okay, why not...” 

Yet the reluctance was clear in your voice. 

The ride back began uneventfully, yet the calm atmosphere inside the car was tinged with awkwardness. 

Megumi was snoozing in his car seat, while Yuji sat on your lap in the passenger seat. 

Despite the lingering tension, Toji could see the relief on your face. The transition from the sweltering heat to the cool comfort of his air-conditioned Mercedes had clearly brought you much-needed respite.

The domesticality of it all was something Toji didn’t realize he would miss as much as he did, and it pissed him off that it was something Sukuna of all people had and took for granted. 

However, when Toji glanced over at you, he tightened his grip on the wheel with both hands.

Your actions were purely innocent as you entertained Yuji, bouncing him on your knees. However, the movement caused your sundress to lift and bunch damn near to your hips. 

Toji swore he could feel the steering wheel crack under his grip as he fought the urge to slide a hand onto your thigh, or at minimum over his soon-to-be-bricked-up cock. 

Fuck. Get it together. 

But there was nothing Toji could have done to stop his dissociative daydreams, which had grown increasingly vivid since laying eyes on you, from consuming him. 

The sleek hardness of the leather steering wheel morphed to be malleable like the inner flesh of your thighs. Toji gripped the wheel tighter, which only made the visualization of how soft your skin would be in contrast to the texture of his calloused hand more apparent. The same hand which would so graciously sink into the warm plush of your skin with reassuring squeezes. 

Finally, Toji would also get his answer as to whether or not you had been wearing panties. Toji’s wandering hand would only need to travel up the tiniest bit higher to press his knuckles right against your core.

And when it came down to it, whether you had them on or not mattered little to Toji—regardless of the result, he still intended to bully his thick middle knuckle directly into your clit. 

Toji would take satisfaction in keeping his main attention on the road as he engaged you in casual conversation—all the while drawing slow absent minded circles around your bud. He would only pause if he felt the lil’ thing swell up enough—to the point where the soft clicking sounds from your slick could be heard if there wasn’t music playing. 

He’d edge you with subtle, yet incessant, pleasure all the way home. Seeing just how much of his teasing your messy cunt could handle.

Toji's mind was stuck so badly in-between your thighs that he’d actually been caught off guard when you finally broke the silence, eagerly asking about his playlist as “How Do U Want It” pumped through the car speakers. 

And that's how Toji managed to worm his way back into your good graces.

You seemed genuinely surprised to discover he was also a fan of ’90s hip-hop when he told you he was. 

Of course, being a fan of ’90s hip-hop wasn’t a lie—but he had heard this particular song playing from your apartment before, so he made sure to add it to a playlist for whenever he’d be able to get you into his car or apartment. 

Much to Toji’s enjoyment, before long you were laughing again as he attempted—very, very poorly—to rap along to some of the lyrics in English. 

Pleased to have won you back over, Toji purposely missed at least two turns just to keep you in his car a bit longer.

If the day had ended there, he would have considered it a win. 

But, of course, with his luck, things would prove to be anything but victorious.

Naturally, once you both returned, Toji carried your bags upstairs. However, that didn’t stop him from playfully teasing you.

Toji joked that—‘Miss Independent didn’t want him paying for her groceries, but she sure as hell didn’t mind him carrying them’—and was rewarded again with the soft snorts of your laughter.

It’s not like you didn’t have your hands full though, cradling both Megumi and Yuji, who were now fast asleep—one on each of your shoulders.

It was…cute.

Fuck, when even was the last time Toji even thought something was cute? 

You were cute though, especially with the kids. 

That he didn’t mind admitting. 

Toji regretted that he didn't snap a picture of the moment. He knew it would likely be over soon.

Heh, maybe it didn’t have to be though.

With both boys asleep in your arms, Toji considered the likelihood of coaxing you to invite him in. You’d surely need help carrying both Yuji and your bags inside—but he didn’t want to push his luck, especially after he had already majorly fucked things up with you once today.

Although, Toji realized you wouldn’t need any convincing when you looked at him with a kind smile that reached all the way into your bright eyes. That was all the encouragement he needed to step across the threshold, technically uninvited, as he held the door open for you.

Toji would have entered too, had the energy not immediately shifted. 

“—and just what the fuck is this?”

Motherfucker.

Down the hallway, Sukuna had since stepped out of the elevator with his right hand, Uraume, close behind. Sukuna appeared already agitated, barking rushed orders over the phone. 

But Sukuna abruptly ended the call the moment he saw Toji about to enter the condo with you. And as if he owned the entire building himself, Sukuna exuded obnoxious dominance in every stride as he approached. 

Toji may have outranked him but Sukuna rivaled Toji in both size and presence, sauntering over to loom behind you with an unmistakable air of possessiveness.

Tch, Sukuna shouldn’t even be here. 

Toji had miscalculated—a rare miscalculation, but a big one nonetheless—what he gets, he supposed, for trusting a less than thurough intel source. 

According to his, now incorrect intel, Sukuna was supposed to be in Shinjuku at headquarters. The fact that he was here, interfering with his time he had so meticulously planned with you, infuriated Toji. 

Shit—he hadn’t wanted Sukuna to see you two together just yet.

Despite Toji being unable to hide his disdain, he offered a respectful nod to Sukuna, as was customary between fellow upper-ranked yakuza. 

Sukuna returned the gesture in-kind, along with a smug grin that had plastered itself across his face.

Tension saturated the air and Toji noticed that your once-gentle smiles had faded, replaced by wary glances exchanged between him and Sukuna. 

Toji’s hand causally brushed yours as you carefully handed Megumi back to him before you faced Sukuna.

He noticed you running over the spot on your hand where your skin had touched.

Did you also feel the electricity between the two of you burn your skin?

Toji had.

“If I knew you were coming, you could have picked me up from the store, Ryo! Then I wouldn’t have had to be a bother to Fushiguro...”

You could never be a bother to Toji.

Looking you over, Toji scrutinized your every movement. He knew you were merely trying to shift focus and keep the peace—but to do it for him? 

After everything today, and how he unintentionally put his foot in his mouth with his actions?

Were—were you falling for him, already?

The slightly strained smile on your face still looked sweet enough, and Toji might have mistaken it for genuine—if not for the real warmth you’d shown him just moments before Sukuna’s arrival. 

You really had saved your smiles just for him, isn’t that right mama?

Toji’s heart beats wildly at the thought, however his good temperaments were greatly diminished as he noted how the light in your eyes dimmed.

Seeing you shrink yourself to answer to Sukuna, no matter how insignificant—pissed him off.

Well, at least thanks to him, you wouldn’t have to suffer Sukuna much longer.

As Toji had expected, Sukuna didn’t try to suppress his asshole-like nature, even towards you. Your attempted olive branch had been rebuffed by the heavy hand on your shoulder. It was evident Sukuna was unconcerned with your excuses as he focused solely on Toji.

“Ah Fushiguro, I see you’ve met my son and his mother.”

Even though Sukuna had failed to give you a title, the intent behind his words and demeanor was unmistakable: 

Sukuna owned you.

So that's how it is, eh? 

Toji couldn’t say he was surprised.

Although his possessive nature wasn't driven by affection for you, Sukuna simply never liked to share his toys. Sukuna must have thought you were just another plaything for Toji, well aware of what Toji got up to typically at The Nursery, 

Eh, and were you any other woman, Sukuna would have been right. 

But you were never toy to Toji, he wanted much more than just to fuck you, even before he realized it himself. 

Toji would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to that too though. 

“Heh, we’ve already had our introductions before, isn’t that right…?” 

Toji was pleased by the flushed, wide-eyed expression on your face when he dared to address you by your first name—just as he was pleased that Sukuna’s smirk faltered into a scowl at Toji’s bold familiarity with you.

Toji mainly did it to piss Sukuna off. However seeing you flustered, knowing he could have an effect on you even in front of Sukuna, had been a much sweeter treat. 

“Oh? Then she must know not to pay heed to old roosters who are now forced to spend more time in the hen house than running the farm these days. Although, a rooster who cannot crow effectively is of little use anywhere else, I suppose.”

Toji’s expression held firm onto the casual smugness he wore, but inside he was boiling. 

Toji knew exactly what Sukuna was referring to.

Since his late wife passed, Toji had been only sent for specialized jobs that required his immense powerhouse abilities. Although he could easily air out a room of 20 men, Toji was considered to be more of a loose cannon than ever before.

Simply not caring—Toji took his anger out on more than just his targeted kills with no second thoughts given to the collateral damage of the environment he was in nor the civilian casualties around. Thus Toji made the damage control messier and harder on the organization in cases where more precision was needed. 

Some would have called that a liability and had him dealt with, yet the bigger liability still would be trying to ‘deal with’ Toji in the first place. Many had tried over the years for one reason or another—and it had been a guaranteed death sentence for each one of them. 

Regardless, Toji had remained dog loyal to the organization though, with little care for power or status, even though it came to him anyway. 

As long as he was paid, Toji had been content—and in turn, so had the organization. This resulted in Toji mostly being able to do as he pleased, even when he went a little rogue at times. 

“Rooster, eh—”

Toji knew Sukuna’s condescending smug attitude stemmed from the special privileges he’d been given to sit in on the executive meetings to solve the current unrest of having to do with whatever old fuck of an executive had gotten himself offed.

Regardless, it could still be seen as a loss of status not being in those meetings. More importantly—Toji’s rogue behaviors could easily be manipulated into a target on his back should Sukuna assert he’d been a part of the internal treason.

Toji knew he had to tread cautiously with Sukuna, but Toji still did not feel threatened in the least.

“—I’d like to think of myself here as more of a fox though, it suits me better don’t ya think?” 

Toji’s gaze had briefly met your own, and you quickly turned away, his grin growing even wider.

But then again, if Sukuna wanted to think Toji was down and out—Toji would let him. 

It would work to Toji’s advantage in the long run with securing you as his anyway. Toji wasn’t worried as he had nothing to do with that old geezer getting wacked and he was glad they’d left him out of it.

Besides, Sukuna being brought into the inner circle could have just as easily been a way to keep a closer watch on him. After all, Sukuna wasn’t an executive—and while Toji was, his role was to eliminate threats, not uncover them. It made more sense for Toji to stay away than for Sukuna to be involved at all.

All which was a net win for Toji, as he found himself with more opportunities to spend time with you, while the organization conveniently kept Sukuna occupied.

With a swift, smooth motion, Toji bent down to retrieve the stray apple that had rolled from your grocery bag. He polished it against his suit jacket before handing it back to you with a sly smile.

“Ya know, I am just next door lil’ hen. This ol’fox is still capable of being a good neighbor. I’ll always have plenty of sugar for you too, should you ever find yourself in need…”

Toji turns to Sukuna.

“...Especially since Sukuna has his hands full on the upper levels of the farm these days, eh? S’a wonder at all how ya manage to visit the hens on this floor too.”

Toji watched with amusement as your eyes widened at the blatant innuendos given right in front of Sukuna, who merely was left growling as his cell audibly and persistently vibrated.

Sukuna deemed the call more important than the coded banter with Toji, as he all but dragged you and Yuji into the condo—leaving the groceries for Uraume to bring in.

Although he had won the battle of the day, Toji regretted his actions later that evening when he inevitably lost the war.

Sukuna made sure to let it be known Toji lost too, as Sukuna had fucked you against the adjoining wall of the master bedroom so hard the entire wall shook.

Your pained yet pleasure-filled moans seeped through the thick insulation of the walls.

Using you like you were just one of his toys, Sukuna was quite literally pounding the point home that you belonged to him with every forceful quake.

Point taken, but what angered Toji more was Sukuna was being too rough with you.

Toji could have sworn he heard you plead for Sukuna to slow down and the irony of his concern was not lost on Toji. 

Toji was never known for being a particularly gentle lover himself, but your body had been through enough—you’re a mother now. You deserved better than the careless treatment of some cheap plastic fuck doll. 

Nevertheless, despite the roughness, it was clear from the diluted moans through the insulation—you had liked it.

Sukuna was still making you cum. 

And oh god, did Toji ever want to prove to your precious pussy that his thick inches would fuck her even harder if that’s what she asked of him.

Toji had to repress a frustrated groan when he realized he was painfully hard. 

Your damped cries had Toji palming himself for relief before he even knew what he was doing.

Yet for all the perverse arousal he felt, Toji did feel some semblance of guilt. 

His taunting of Sukuna ensured that this punishment was a lesson for the both of you.

But—Fuck. 

Toji couldn’t deny his sadistic side.

He was a killer after all. 

Even the distressed tremor of your euphoric moans sounded absolutely heavenly to him, and it wasn’t long before Toji fumbled with his own belt to drag out his heavily leaking cock. 

Thick humid breaths left Toji as he hissed from having thumbed off the viscous pre-gathering on his redden tip. 

Toji slowly spread it down his pulsing length, shuddering. 

His frustrations at not being the one touching you—not being the one making you shiver and moan, are only rivaled by his frustration of this being the first time he’s had any real fire in his loins since he’s met you.

The fierce desire to cum was overtaking his more rational brain or self-control as he’d hadn’t been this hard in weeks, even when he’d rub one out from watching old security footage of you.

Wanting any semblance of contact, Toji placed his free hand on the wall—on the exact spot he imagined Sukuna had your cheek pressed against. 

With closed eyes, Toji pictured himself cupping your face, thumb smoothing away any stray hairs or tears while he is the one thrusting into you, filling you.

His large hand encompassed his length while he thrusted into his rough palm, faster now that the speed of the thumping had increased—signaling Sukuna was close to finishing you.

Swallowing a frustrated roar, your muted cries for Sukuna through the wall brought Toji out of his fantasies and back to the harsh reality that Sukuna was the one balls deep in your tight milf pussy—while he was only in his own hand.

Nevertheless, Toji was determined to cum and even more so, determined to soon be the one making you scream in pleasure. 

If you were this loud now—you’d be much louder on his cock. 

Toji leaned in even closer, resting his head on his forearm against the wall, the wall that still shuddered with the force of Sukuna ruthlessly rearranging your guts. 

Forcing himself to dissociate once more, so he could finish—Toji squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he bit his lip to the point of drawing blood. In the daydream, in Toji’s mind, it wasn’t the coarse skin of his palm that stroked his cock but the silky, wet heat of your cozy lil’ cunt. 

Toji convinced himself that the sloshing noises that rang throughout his bedroom were from him stretching your pussy to his shape as his fat tip slammed against your cervix— and not from the embarrassing amount of pearlescent fluid spilling over his hand. 

He hadn’t even cum yet—a testament to how backed up he truly was. 

Toji should have been ashamed at the way his girth had pulsed in his palm, but he was so close, and so determined to finish with you, there was no room for ego.

Picking up speed to nearly the point of chafing, Toji jerked his cock feverishly. Toji came when he heard the loudest moan yet vibrate through the wall, and the banging had ceased with a final jarring shake. 

Rolling back his eyes, Toji released his load all over the wall of his master bedroom, finally sated. Toji had allowed himself a strangled groan of relief, once he believed you both were no longer near the wall.

Panting and half-delirious with euphoric release, Toji’s eyes followed the trail of his thick cum splatter slowly trickling down the wall as his once engorged cock deflated in his hand. 

With a curled lip and narrowed eyes, the white fluid turns red in his mind’s eye. 

A dark chuckle escaped his lips and Toji fantasized what it would be like to put a slug right between Sukuna’s eyes. Toji’s large load pooled onto the floor in a similar fashion to how Sukuna’s brains would leak, spilling out as it also formed a similarly morbid pool of fluids.

Yet even despite his more ruthless inclinations, upon inhaling a deep breath, Toji felt an unfamiliar zen wash over him.

Killing was just business to Toji, and he couldn’t recall the last time the thought of offing someone had brought him this much pleasure or any semblance of peace.

Yet the fact revealed itself to him then, in that moment—the truth that he’d kill everyone in this goddamn organization for you if that's what it took.

Toji knew Sukuna wasn’t one of those cowardly fucks who would just roll over while someone moved in on his woman either, so Toji would likely be forced to kill him should Sukuna ever find out his true plans for you. 

Toji sighs reluctantly—it was just a mere fantasy.

Not that he gave two fucks what would happen to Sukuna, but killing him would only fan the flames and might even cause an all-out internal war within the organization. 

A war that as the top assassin, he’d be expected to quell with force—for god knows how long.

Ultimately, that would mean a loss for Toji too.

The more involved with the organization he was, the less time he’d get with you.

Brute force was never the ideal way to deal with someone like Sukuna, and it would be better for everyone if you seemingly left him of your own accord. 

But what other choice did he have? 

He’d do what it took to get you at the end of the day.

And while these complications may have deterred a younger Toji, you, as well as the challenge itself, breathed new life into his aging bones.

That life extended into all areas of his current one. Even the usually reserved Megumi had become less quiet and more responsive to Toji with his changed demeanor and increased presence around The Nursery.

You didn’t even know how much you were fixing his life even if you were only on the outskirts of it now. 

You had made him better—so in turn, he would give you better.

Toji had no real interests, hobbies, nor friends. 

Your moving-in had been the most exciting thing that had happened to him since she had been alive and Toji had lived the last year of his life on autopilot—but no more. 

Now that he had something, well, someone that made him feel energized once again. 

⟡

The familiar trill of a cell phone—one of the many burners he used for his yakuza dealings—pulls Toji out of his thoughts once again.

His lip curls in annoyance at the person on the line.

This is why Toji likes working alone. 

Others were not only liabilities, but they were rarely ever self-sufficient. 

Always wanting to ‘check-in’ and ‘confirm the plan’, rather than just taking the damn action themselves like they were supposed to. 

But alas, the task of getting rid of Sukuna was something Toji knew he couldn’t do alone, he needed the intel source, even if they were unreliable at best. 

Toji answers the call, but keeps it brief with his clipped replies.

By the time it ended, he was already scoffing, indifferent to the voice still speaking on the other end as he cut the call short and hung up as soon as he got the info he needed. 

Shoving the phone into his back pocket, Toji sparks another cigarette.

His 'partner' had so kindly reminded him of the loose ends he still needed to tie up.

But that could wait. 

For now, Toji remained where he was, stationed on his balcony—ready to stay out here all night for the small chance you may need him.

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

⟢ end credits: please comment, like and reblog and lmk what you think! I'd really appreciate the feedback as this fic has been my baby working on it.

i will likely end up completing another work while i work on episode 3 as my adhd ass usually needs to break it up in order not to get writers block and unlike e2 i had only done the outline so far, so if i post something else in the meantime just know i'm still working on episode 3!

[illumonated]

ive said this once and i will say it again, grady is the most nuanced character in KOTLC. Purely from just how he is written in canon- there is so much we can draw from his character with little inference.

On the one hand, you have a walking tragedy: he manifested one of the rarest and most dangerous abilities in the lost cities at a young age, he lost his daughter to her fiance, (if we're talking theory, he may have been in the neverseen), you can't help but feel sympathy for him.

But then- you realize something terrifying.

Gisela and Vespera are right.

Grady is the most ruthless elf in the lost cities.

But he's also one of the kindest.

Despite the danger it poses, he and Edaline adopt the Moonlark, they put themselves at risk. Despite everything been through, they willingly give their love to a girl who needs it. That is one of the kindest acts someone can pull off.

However, as alluded to earlier, there's another side to him. Despite how concerned, kind, and thoughtful he is; he is also vengeful, impulsive, and distrusting.

Let's look at Everblaze again. Partially because it's the best example of his darker nature, partially because I have it on hand right now, partially because it is my favorite book in the series.

In Everblaze, Grady's vengeance and impulse is seen in full. Take King DImitar, for an example. Sophie was going to be taken away; and Grady jumped in. He believed it to be the right thing to do; and believe me it was, but there is a dark tone to it. A feeling of impulse; that he wasn't truly thinking at the moment. And he almost violated the treaty, if it wasn't for the Councillors coming to his defense.

This scene serves as subtle foreshadowing for later and sets up something very important about Grady:

He could kill someone if he wanted to. And he knows that.

But what could push him that far? Well, there is an answer to that, an answer we later find out:

Jolie's death.

When he finds out the true circumstances to Jolie's untimely demise, his sheer ruthlessness is demonstrated. There's a deeper level to this however, it is his underlying fear of being taken advantage of showing to its surface.

Brant took advantage of Grady and Edaline, and that is the biggest injustice to Grady. Because it's what he has been fearing, it's why he had closed himself off to the world.

That fear causes the sheer level of terror that is caused in Grady. Terror that builds into his impulses, which causes him to go out to find Brant, with intent to kill.

That's why he doesn't want Sophie to come with, he doesn't want his daughter to see the monster he was about to become.

The monster he believes himself to be.

It's not just Everblaze, but a feeling that permeates his character and his choices.

His distrust of Keefe stems from two things:

The similarities he sees between himself and Keefe (the sense of humor, the blond hair, and later in the books; the ability of control).

How that, in a way, is all Grady has ever known.

Elves manifest young. Meaning that he has spent a majority of his life being distrusted by his peers, as well as distrusting the world and fearing someone would take advantage of him.

So when there's a talented but terrified young kid that needs his helps; whether through adoption or through training, he obligies.

Why?

Because he sees himself so much in that situation. Because of that deep feeling of kinship, he feels a need to take care of people in that situation.

Grady's empathy trumps his distrust.

And that's why he starts helping Keefe. That's why he adopts Sophie.

tl;dr: grady's character absolutely FUCKS why does no one talk about this???

also he is hotter than hell and i will fight people on this

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part four)

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Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.

Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.

If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.

Maybe he should just head back to the motel...

...

Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.

Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)

Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.

Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.

Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.

Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.

Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)

He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.

Batman definitely needed therapy.

...

Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.

yay.

He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)

Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.

Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.

shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.

and waited.

and waited.

After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.

Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"

It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."

"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."

The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."

Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.

He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.

He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)

The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.

Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?

Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.

"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."

Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."

Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.

He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.

He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.

He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.

He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.

He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.

"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."

Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.

Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.

"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."

Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."

Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.

"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"

Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.

"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)

Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"

Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"

Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.

Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.

"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.

Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.

Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."

Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"

Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.

"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.

"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."

Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.

"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."

Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.

'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'

and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.

Next

[cute-sucker]

rafe loved to watch you plant.

there was something so domestic and calm about the whole situation. you would kneel down, so close to flashing him, humming a soft lullaby. he could almost imagine you juggling a baby on your hip, making him dinner at eight, and telling him about your day.

it was also funny at first, the way you would wake up, bleary-eyed before sneaking out of bed to water your plants. at first rafe would yell out for you, grabbing for cold spaces near your part of the bed, scared that you had left ─ but soon he would find you wandering near the garden.

you had names for your blossoms, cute ones too, and he would tease you about them, asking you to tell him the names as he had you in his lap. and sometimes he swore he heard you talk to them.

"yea! rafe got me this cute embellished purse that says my name on it-" and one time rafe had caught you, and you had practically jumped out of your skin, shushing the flower.

he laughed, "kid? kid, are you talking to your flowers?" he could barely handle it, trying to muffle his laughter at your smile. you bit your lip, and then shrugged, as if you were caught stealing.

then as if you wanted to distract him, you pressed a soft kiss on his shoulder, batting your lashes, "the conversation makes them grow," a shy confession that made him want to tuck you in his pocket and never let you go.

when you first moved to tanyhill, the first thing you asked about was the garden. it was silly you knew, the way you were so excited about a garden. rafe had taken one look at you, a silly spade in your hand, and a cheesy smile and grabbed your face to give you a kiss.

"does this mean i can plant some fruits? please," you got on your toes to give him another quick kiss, "please," another peck, "please!"

he groaned, unable to get you to stop skipping, as he ran a hand through his buzzed hair before giving you a pointed look.

"goddamn it, you're running me crazy," he grumbled before you pouted, pleading doe eyes making his heart ache. "yeah, have at it kid. go grow your strawberries."

you had worn some silly rain boots as well, and you felt very close to stomping them. one one hand they were so cute with pretty ladybugs imprints, but on the other hand, you really really wanted to start a garden. but the minute you heard rafe's approval, you pursed your lips before giving him a hard kiss.

he looked taken back when you pulled away, rushing to get your things, and then he laughed to himself, "if i knew you'd act like that, fuck, i would have done that a long time ago."

quickly enough, you would sometimes watch rafe peek outside his window to watch you plant. those days you would wear your cute skirts, and short tops so he could come down to talk to you. you felt all flushed whenever you noticed the shit-eating smile he gave you as if he could tell you were toying with him.

"are you trying to kill me, sweets?" he would always whisper in your mouth, wrapping you in his arms, and you would smile against his lips.

this time however, you had a plan. it was silly you knew it, thinking of pranking rafe cameron. he was someone who looked series, and the last time you had played a prank on him, he had gotten a bit pissed─but this time it wasn't bad!

"rafe! i have a surprise for you," you giggled out as he leaned against a tree letting out a small grunt as he scrolled on his phone. you were holding a bunch of squirming worms in your hands, a cheeky smile on your face.

you walked up to him, wobbling closer to look at him. he had his sunglasses on as you squinted against the sun, "rafe?"

he looked up, "what?"

you gave him a sweet smile, "open your hands. open em'" you giggled, practically radiating as you smiled. rafe cocked an eyebrow before sighing and holding out his hands.

you quickly dumped the worms in his hands, as he looked at you disapprovingly. at this point you were cackling, holding your hands to your chest, wheezing with laughter.

"you think this is funny, kid?"

you let out a watery laugh, "really funny."

and despite himself, you swore he let out a smile as well.

[forsaken-x-you]

HII!! I’m so happy to see another forsaken x reader blog on here rn :3 I hope you don’t mind if I send a request here! Anywho…

May I request (romantic headcanons) 1x4 and Mafioso with a GN! Ghostface! Reader? And once the reader pairs up with jason it’s SO over for the survivors :3 ANDDD even though they are merciless while killing, in private they are SWOONING for their partners

Thank you!!

When Jeff the Killer gets added I hope he gets a Ghostface skin

1X4 and Mafioso with a Ghostface killer! Reader

1x1x1x1 💚⛓

Oh, he's smitten! Everytime you're the killer, he watches over you, cheering everytime you scored a kill.

He isn't too happy about you being paired up with Jason, though. It makes him insanely jealous. He thinks Jason's gonna try taking you from him.

"What's the matter, 1? You look mad." CO0lkidd asks, tugging at 1x1x1x1's arm. The creation groaned, glaring down at the child.

"I ain't mad, kid." He growled, his green torso glowing brighter each time he talked. "I'm thinkin'."

"Thinking about what?" CO0lkidd continued with his questioning, peering over the balcony. A match was in progress, with the survivors and killers dotted about the map. You and Jason were currently hunting down Elliot, too close for his comfort.

"Thinkin' about the words I'm gonna have with Jason. He's gettin' real close to Y/N." 1x1x1x1 grumbled, his eyes burning into the taller killer.

After matches, 1x1x1x1 traps you in his arms, holding you tightly, pressing himself right against you.

Lifting your mask up, he proceeds to kiss you all over your face all the while praising you for your efforts.

Mafioso 🖤🐇

Chance bolted through the forest, Jason was hot on his heels. He barely managed to finish the generator as the killer appeared beside him.

But he wasn't going to let himself get caught, he was in it to win it, as the old saying goes. He could feel himself losing Jason, smiling as he out ran the killer.

Then, he tripped, going flying into a tree. Sitting up, he nursed his head as he groaned in agony. Looking up, he saw what he had tripped over. It was a phone, and it was ringing.

Crawling over to the phone, Chance picked it up and decided to answer it out of curiosity.

"Hello?" The gambler speaks, clearing his throat. "Who's this?"

"Soon you'll discover." A voice replied, rasping through the receiver. Chance felt a shiver running down his spine. He grabbed the phone tightly.

"Tell me your name, now!" He demanded, struggling to stabilise his voice. The person at the end of the line giggled.

"Tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine." They answered, before Chance could speak, the unknown voice continued, laughing. "I wanna know who I'm looking at."

That was enough to make Chance whip his head around wildly, his fedora almost falling from his head. Before he could scream into the receiver, the caller had hung up.

Chance stands up, fumbling with his gun. He aims it wildly, his eyes darting back and forth. It's a shame he can't see behind him.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Mafioso grins as Chance's echoing screams reach his ears. Oh, how he finds your methods of killing to be amusing. He's definitely rewarding you after this match.

Mafioso is fascinated by you. Infact, he has you appointed as a personal hitman in his mafia. Somebody refusing to pay their debt? They're getting a phone call!

He absolutely loves seeing you strike the fear of Spawn into the survivors through the phones you leave on the ground.

Sometimes, you call him during rounds! It's an unexpected surprise for him, but it's a welcome one.

After matches, Mafioso envelopes you in his coat as he embraces you, praising you for your killings.

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓 - ( b. Chan. )

pairing: teacher!bang chan x fem!reader

genre: smut, teacher x student dynamic ( both consensual, both over 18 )

word count:  2.1k

summary: y/n is a difficult student, chan is a extremely attractive teacher.

warnings: chocking, dirty talks, sex in a public place (his office) , Dom!chan, sub!reader, unprotect sex (don't be silly guys), breeding, pet names.

"You're messing around again? I told you if I caught you another time I needed to report you," You jumps on your feet, as you're close to jump over the fence of your college.

Your literature professor, right in front of you. His hands on his pockets, a cigarette between his full lips and his fucking suit on.

That man, that man is gonna kill you with his manners. 

You know that, if you try to escape again, he's gonna report you and takes you back home, but that's the thing - you don't want to go home. You really don't, you wanna stay right there where you are, specially under his sight.

Your teacher is the sexiest man that you even lend your sight on, "I never been a really easy kid."

He get closer to you, his hands slowly moving on your necktie, that is totally not in order, his long and white fingers gets on work to fix it for you, "Oh, I know, you little brat."

Bang Chan is maybe the only one that noticed, how badly you're looking for attentions. Chuckling under your doe eyes that begs for more contact, you swallow as his words shocked you more than you expected. "b-brat? is this your way to call a student professor?"

He chuckles as he moves your hair behind your ear, making you feel like a child for a second, his grin grows wider at your reactions that seems so little; he wants to touch you so badly, but the voices coming from the entrance makes him do a step back. "oh, of course not, just my favourites." He clear his throat as he shakes his head with a light chuckle.

A shiver run down your spine at the way that he smokes his cigarette, his hair falling down - rebelling from the gel that he puts on every morning to have his black hair back. His suit looks extra fine this morning and you muffled a stupid excuse to walk away, your heart it's pumping in your chest too fast to realise where you're walking.

Chan stays right there, watching the fence of the college, the wind hitting his face with the cold of October. His eyes keeps moving, remembering perfectly every single action that you did in front of him in the last seconds, he sight saw the way that your nipples were hardening against the uniform that you were wearing. Fuck, just the thought makes his cock hardening in his pants, he sigh deeply. 

He's gonna need to go to the bathroom, for a while.

For the rest of the day you couldn't think of anything else that the view of your professor in front of you, calling you brat. That was, something that took you out of your comfort zone in the best way possible, you can feel it under your skin that your fantasies are taking over. Your hand moves by itself during class, the history lesson gets bored and bored and you can't take it more. "Professor, can i go out?"

You stands up, taking your bag and putting in on your shoulder, not waiting for his answer but already walking outside, why should you listen to him anyway?

Your feet moves without realising it, but you're in front of Chan's office, silence standing at the black door of his space. The gold sign of his name written on it and you want to walk away, you have to right?

Before you know it the door open, Chan standing there watching you with the same surprise as you are, "y/n..? what..?"

"i.. I don't know why I'm here," You mumble, almost like a deer in front of the light of a car in the middle of the street. His smirk slowly grows in his face, moving from the entrance to get the chance for you to let you in, you walk in almost instinctively.

"sure, and I'm the principal," he rolls his eyes playfully. Your chuckle fills his office as he locks the door behind himself, laying against the black door, "so now, you're here in the wolf's den."

"is this your way of keeping me here?" You raise an eyebrow, sitting on his desk with your thighs crossed, his eyes landing on them for a single moment and he swallows, he notice how your skit moves lightly up at the gesture. You're trying to seduce him and he knows.

Kinda working too, if you ask him.

He cough a small laugh, "I wouldn't force you here, but you want to be. You are presenting yourself like this.. expecting.. what?"

You swallow your words, you were so ready to snap to him how badly you wanted to leave college, but right now.. you're mind is totally somewhere else.

You got into this University thanks to your dad's circle of close friends, all really rich and speak-money type of people, that's how you call them. but right now, in front of your professor, everything is vanishing, all the thoughts from before are going to the trash and the only thing that you’re thinking is how good is unbuttoned shirt looks today.

“i.. uhm i wanted to talk,” You manage to say, your cheeks are too red for him to actually believe you.

Chan’s moves from the door, leaving the surface to step in front of you, his head lightly tilted down, “talk?”

You nods trying to convince even yourself about this, “yeah, why? looks so weird coming from me?”

“actually yes.” He hums. "what you wanna talk about?"

His eyes meets yours as you fix your position, spreading lightly on purpose making his imagination running wild about how soft your skin must be. "symbolism."

Chan stands at the front of the small, dimly lit office, his voice smooth and measured as he discuss the intricacies of 19th-century Romantic poetry. His words flow effortlessly, weaving through complex literary theories and analysing the nuances of each stanza. Yet, despite his eloquence, you can't help but let your mind wander.

You sits on top of the desk, your chin resting on your hand as you listened, her thighs still spread, but your thoughts are far from the dusty pages of old books. Instead, they fixated on the way Chan’s sleeves are slightly rolled up, revealing his sculpted forearms.

"…and the use of juxtaposition here emphasizes the contrast between the protagonist’s internal conflict and the external world," Chan continue, his voice steady and calm.

His hands are doing all the opposite.

You admire how his lips moved with a grace that seemed too perfect for everyday speech. You can feel your cheeks warming as your mind drift to the way his tone shifted subtly when he become particularly passionate about a point.

Suddenly, his gaze meet yours as he paused for a moment, and a soft smile played on his lips. "y/n?" His voice pulls you back to the present.

His fingers stopping from caressing your panties, a whine comes out your lips, "Sorry," you said quickly trying to take a deep breath, your voice a little breathier than you intended. "What were we discussing?"

Chan chuckle lightly, the sound resonating warmly in the office. "I was talking about the symbolism in the final stanza. But perhaps, you were thinking of something a bit more interesting?" His smile deepened, and his thumb rubs against your clit as his thigh spreads yours more, the skit moving all the way up, rolling up against your hips.

You laugh softly, feeling slightly flustered. "Maybe," your purrs, voice barely above a whisper, your legs spread further showing your panties to his hungry eyes. "But it’s hard not to get lost when you’re standing here."

Chan’s eyebrows raise slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Is that so?"

Your blush deepen, and you quickly focus your gaze back on his lips, he's smirking. The room fill with his voice again, though this time, you found yourself lay down on the desk under his light push. His hips start to rock back and forth against your panties, his pants are tight.

The wait is driving both of you crazy, his hands moves from your spread thigh to your neck, the book on his other hand falls on the floor. He grabs lightly your neck with his hand, chocking you lightly - not enough to hurt you, but enough to turn you on. "C-Channie please."

"I'm Channie now? what happened to professor?" His other hand finish beside your head, bending lightly over your slim body, your legs on both sides of his waist, "I.. I don't wanna play ain't more.."

He's giggle fills the room, "Ye? Why's that? you're getting impatient?" He's too horny, too much turned on by you and your stupid tease that bothers him.

Your hands moves from your sides to grab the belt from his pants, pulling him down toward your heated panties, you're wet enough - he knows that he doesn't have to get you ready for him. "Your cock. please.. please give me your cock."

He groan under breath removing his hand from your throat to shoves his suit pants down just far enough for him to slip his cock out. One hand rests on the side of your head while the other pumps himself a few times. " Fuck, you're so wet." It doesn’t take long for him to grow impatient too, and you find him sliding his tip through your clothed folds, "you want it baby?"

"yes please," You're being so good for him, so nice and polite that it makes his cock pulse, his tip leaking pre-cum down his shaft, the view is mouth-watering.

He pull your panties on the side, admiring your shiny pussy lips, licking his lips, "I don't even have to spit on it." With his soft chuckle e push himself inside your slit, the stretch is noticeable, but it’s is only turning him on more, "all stuffed with my cock."

You raise your hips toward him moaning too loud for his taste because he quickly cover your mouth with his hand, your eyes widen a little, "Sshh baby, we are still in my office aren't we? you sounds amazing but right now I don't want anyone to know who's fucking this pretty pussy hm?"

Your doe eyes makes him groan and your tight cunt wraps around him even more. He curses under his breath moving so fast that the desk shakes a little under your weight.

“U-ugh…” He arch your back just how he likes it, and you knows it because he start to grunt in a low tone. His hands finds your hips and he wastes no more time, moving his hips backward before sliding back into your heat.

It's like he knows your body, he imagined you like that for so long that right now it's like a dream come true, his eyes are closing and he moves his head back with a grunt. So much so that he finds a fast pace rather quickly, your tits bounce in your buttoned shirt, his eyes meets yours and a gasp leave your lips clenching around him. "a-ah, angel, so good for me right? only for me right?"

“y-yes, yes yes yes,” You can feel your orgasm starting to take over your body and you clench tightly as it snaps. Your hips meets his for a brief moment before he bend over on top of you again, your hands finds his and he moves them on top of your head. His face is so close to yours, noses nudging against each other.

His hips snaps forward making you moan deeply, "if you gotta cum, make it fast, I'll let you moan now." His words are almost sweet against his strokes, thrusting more hard and rough into your G-spot.

“I'm.. I'm so close please,” whines and moans leaves your mouth as he nibble your earlobe, grunting lightly, your pussy sucking his cock in so perfectly, you got his shape so clear that you're gonna remember this moment for the rest of your life.

You come right after his strokes gets deeper, “fuck, fuck— oh.. fuck..” Chan gasps it out and whines loudly as you both starts to cum, his cock spurting everything he has to give into your cunt. The feeling of getting filled up makes your eyes roll backward.

You heard him cursing before, but this time was the best sound ever.

"You.. oh my god," you squeak out lightly when he slowly start to soften inside your heat.

Chan moves high, his hands stroke your waist as he looks down, his cock still half inside your pussy makes him chuckle lowly, his thumb brushes against your clit making you shiver. "It's my first time fucking a student, needed to be you, bratty."

@lyramundana. ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

[maddie0101]

about damn time pt.1

— based off of THIS request. I hope you like it @anbernen ! ❤︎

summary: you had a normal life, up until an encounter with the impossible nearly killed you. now, your best friend, dean winchester, has pulled back the curtain on what really goes bump in the night. when you finally convince him to take you on a hunt, he gives in. what could possibly go wrong?

warnings: reader had a normal life, protective!dean, worried!dean, best friends to lovers, cute shit, cussing, underlying sexual tension, smut ish? (contains reader & dean taking care of themselves) , pinning, fluff?, nicknames bc it’s dean, lots of tension, probably way more but i suck at tags.

word count: 6.6k

note: this was supposed to be a short little oneshot but if you guys know me then you know how insane I am. yeaah…now it’s a three part mini series :) enjoy!

series masterlist next part

Dean had never been good at making friends.

Sam was always the social one, the kid who could walk into a new school and have a lunch table full of friends by the end of the week.

But Dean? He had people he joked around with, kids he’d nod to in the hallway, maybe the occasional drinking buddy once he got older, but real friends? The kind that stuck? He never let himself have those.

Until you.

He met you in some small town, one of the many places he and Sam passed through, another forgettable stop on their never-ending road trip.

But you weren’t forgettable. Not even close. You were the first girl he ever looked at and thought, Damn. And then, almost immediately thought, Don’t even think about it.

Because somehow, despite all the walls he kept up, despite knowing he’d be gone sooner rather than later, you wormed your way in. You didn’t just laugh at his jokes, you made him laugh, really laugh, the kind that made his ribs ache. You didn’t just tolerate his music, you argued about which Zeppelin song was best. And you didn’t just exist in his world, you carved out a space in it, one that felt so natural, he forgot it hadn’t always been there.

For the first time, Dean had someone who wasn’t family but felt damn close. And he wasn’t about to screw that up.

So yeah, you were drop dead gorgeous and yeah, maybe sometimes he let his eyes linger too long when you weren’t looking. Maybe sometimes his mind wandered into dangerous territory late at night when it was just him and his thoughts.

But friendship? That was something real.

Something he didn’t have to leave behind. And Dean didn’t get to have nice things, but he’d be damned if he let himself ruin this one.

Dean didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, you became his best friend.

It started off slow, stolen afternoons in diners, late-night phone calls, the kind of bond that built itself brick by brick. He couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened, when you’d become his person, but looking back, it felt inevitable. Like gravity.

Whenever he was anywhere remotely close to your small town, he made excuses to swing by. A refuel, a food stop, needing a place to crash—any reason to see you, even if it was just for a few hours.

He told himself it was nothing. Just a friendship. Just a little bit of normalcy in the middle of his chaotic life, but he knew better.

Dean didn’t do normal. And yet somehow, with you, it felt easy.

It was late nights in that little diner off Main Street, the one with the shitty coffee and the old jukebox that never worked right. You’d sit across from him, stirring too much sugar into your cup while he ate a piece of pie, and you’d talk for hours.

You’d tell him about your day, about the things you wanted out of life. Sometimes he’d tell you about his too—leaving out the monsters, of course. He told you about the road, the places he’d been, the things he’d seen. He spun half-truths, made his life sound like some endless road trip instead of the bloody war it really was.

Because you weren’t supposed to know that part of him. He wanted to keep you separate from it, untangled from the darkness that followed him. So he never told you the truth. Never let you too close.

But the thing was—You already were close.

It was the late-night phone calls when he was too wired to sleep after a hunt. He’d call just to hear your voice, just to feel something real on the other end of the line. You’d answer every time, no matter how late, your voice groggy but warm.

“Dean? You okay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just… wanted to talk.”

And you would. About everything and nothing. Until his pulse settled, until the world didn’t feel so heavy. It was the way you always knew when something was off.

“Where are you?” you’d ask, suspicion laced in your voice when he was being too vague about where he’d been.

“Oh, you know. Here. There. The usual.”

“Uh-huh. That’s not an answer, Winchester.”

You were relentless, prying without even knowing it, but he loved that about you. It meant you cared. And god help him, he liked being cared about. It was the fact that, without even trying, you’d become the one person he couldn’t stay away from.

And maybe, just maybe—he didn’t want to stay away.

So he kept coming back. Kept sneaking away to see you, calling when he couldn’t. You had no idea how deep he was in it, how badly he wanted to tell you the truth—how many times he almost had. But every time he thought about it, all he saw was you getting hurt.

So he kept lying, pretending. Because with you, he didn’t have to be Dean Winchester, the hunter.

He could just be Dean.

But not all good things last forever. Especially not for Dean.

For a while, it had almost felt too easy—sneaking into your little town, slipping into your life like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t just a drifter passing through. He let himself believe, even if just for a little while, that this could last. That you were safe. That the world he lived in, the nightmares he fought, wouldn’t touch you. But monsters didn’t give a damn about what he wanted. And one night, everything changed.

It started with a phone call. His phone buzzed against the cheap motel nightstand, the sound barely cutting through the quiet hum of late-night TV. Dean almost ignored it—he was tired, had been driving for hours, and the last thing he wanted was another case dropping in his lap.

But when he saw your name flashing on the screen, something in his chest tightened.

You never called this late.

The second he answered, he knew something was wrong. There was no teasing remark, no easy “Hey, Winchester” to greet him. Just heavy breathing and the faintest shake in your voice when you said, “Dean?”

He sat up immediately, muscles tensing. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

Then, in a panicked rush, you told him. About the thing that had broken into your apartment. How it had your face. How it moved like you, talked like you—how for a split second, you thought you were losing your damn mind.

Dean was already yanking on his boots, keys clutched tight in his fist. “It’s a shifter,” he said, forcing his voice to stay steady. He needed you calm. Needed you alive. “Listen to me. Do you have anything silver?”

A rustling noise sounded from the phone's speaker. Then, “I—I think. There’s a necklace in my dresser—”

“Not good enough. You need a weapon.”

“Dean, it’s coming.” He heard it then—a noise in the background, the sound of something moving, the faintest creak of floorboards. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Get a knife, anything,” he ordered. “Aim for the heart, go for the kill shot. Don’t hesitate.”

“Dean, I—”

The line went dead and Dean's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. “Shit.”

Dean was out the door before he could think, speeding through the dark streets, his heart hammering against his ribs. The entire drive, all he could think about was getting to you in time.

But when he got there—He was too late.

Not too late, not in the way that mattered most, but—The door to your apartment was wide open.

Dean barely registered the sound of his own boots pounding against the floor as he rushed inside, gun drawn, instincts screaming. He had played out worst-case scenarios the entire drive over—found you dead, found you gone, found whatever thing had come for you still standing over your body, smirking in the way only monsters could.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

You stood in the middle of your living room, drenched in blood.

It was everywhere—splattered across your face, streaked down your arms, soaking into the fabric of your shirt. The knife in your trembling grip dripped with something dark and wet, forming a thick pool on the hardwood floor beneath you.

And at your feet was the body—the fucking body.

It was wrong. Twisted. A half-shifted mockery of you. Your own face, but not. The features warped and melting, frozen mid-transition as if the thing had died trying to wear you like a second skin.

Dean’s stomach dropped.

You weren’t just shaking. You were trembling. Your breath came in short, erratic gasps—eyes blown wide, wild, as if you couldn’t quite process what you were looking at. Or maybe, more terrifyingly, that you could.

You swallowed thickly, eyes locking onto his. Your voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and broken “What the fuck was that thing?”

Dean’s grip on his gun tightened. He had been too late. Not too late, not in the way that mattered most, but—fuck. You weren’t supposed to see this. You weren’t supposed to live this.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you stared down at the body like if you looked long enough, maybe it would make sense. Like if you blinked, it would disappear, and you could wake up from this nightmare.

But it didn’t. And you wouldn’t.

Dean took a careful step closer. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, steady, the way he would talk someone off a ledge. Because that’s where you were right now, teetering at the edge of something dark and sharp and permanent. “You with me?”

You let out a shuddering breath, barely nodding.

But you weren’t, not really. He could see it now—the thousand-yard stare, the way your fingers clenched and unclenched around the knife like you still weren’t sure if you needed to fight for your life. The way you stood, knees locked, barely breathing, as if one wrong move might break you.

It had been self-defense. It had to be.

But that didn’t mean it hadn’t fucked you up. Killing something was one thing. Killing something that wore your face? That was a whole different kind of horror.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself, but when you lifted your hands, your gaze snagged on the blood. Not the shifter’s. Your own.

A jagged gash ran along your forearm—shallow, but deep enough that the crimson dripped in slow, fat droplets down to your fingertips. You flexed your fingers, watching them move like they weren’t even yours. Like you weren’t sure if you were still real.

Then, barely above a whisper, your voice cracked “It said something about how I’m connected to the Winchesters now.” You swallowed hard. “What does that mean?” Your voice wavered, still raw, still shell-shocked. “And how did you know how to kill it?”

Dean froze. The words settled like lead in his chest, heavier than they should’ve been. He didn’t let things get personal. He didn’t let people get close.

But you? You had slipped past every wall he had without even trying. And now, something had noticed.

His jaw clenched, a slow, creeping anger coiling under his skin like something toxic. Not at you. Never at you.

At them. At whatever son of a bitch had set its sights on you. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn't let you become another name to carve into his ribs, another ghost to carry.

Which meant you only had one option. Dean exhaled, voice tight. “Pack a bag.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re coming with me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Dean—”

“No arguments.” The words came sharper than he intended, but he needed you to listen. Needed you to understand that this wasn’t up for debate. “If something out there knows your name—knows me—you’re not staying here.”

You hesitated, glancing around—at the blood, the wreckage, the body still caught between stolen faces. The realization settled in your expression, something raw and shaken but understanding.

Your life, as you knew it, was over.

There was no going back.

And when you finally nodded, Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Because from this moment on, whether you liked it or not—You were in this life.

And he wasn’t about to let anything take you from it.

The bunker was a freaking labyrinth.

From the moment Dean led you inside, duffel slung over his shoulder, exhaustion written all over his face, you felt like you’d stepped into another world. The place was massive—high-arched ceilings, endless hallways, dim overhead lighting that flickered just enough to make the shadows stretch long. It smelled like old books and gun oil, metal and dust.

And it was quiet. Unnervingly so.

Dean tossed his bag onto a table in what he called the war room—a massive space with an old map of the world lit up across the table, covered in notes, scribbles, and markings you didn’t understand.

“Sit,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. He didn’t sound tired anymore. If anything, his voice had that clipped, serious edge you weren’t used to, like he was preparing to lay something heavy on you. Which, as you were quickly learning, was exactly what was about to happen.

And so, for the next two hours, you got the crash course on what the hell Dean Winchester really did for a living. He didn’t sugarcoat it at all. He told you everything. The good, the bad, the ugly.

That monsters were real, actually, fucking real. That the thing you killed in your apartment? A shapeshifter. That there were demons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, witches, things that went bump in the night that you weren’t supposed to know about. And angels. That was the one that almost made you laugh. “You’re shitting me.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Wish I was.”

Your head spun. You wanted to call bullshit, wanted to believe that this was some sick prank or a fever dream or something that would make sense in the morning.

But it wasn’t. Because you had already seen it. You had watched a creature with your your face shift try to kill you. You had stabbed a fucking thing in the heart with a silver knife and watched it die, twitching at your feet like a broken machine.

And now, you were sitting in a secret underground bunker, hearing about how this was Dean’s life.

It took a while for it to sink in, honestly. But once it did, you realized something else—this was your life now, too.

At first, you kept busy. You had to, or your own thoughts would eat you alive.

Sam was more than happy to dump research on you, burying you in lore books, faded manuscripts, and half-legible scribbles from old hunters long dead. He taught you how to read Latin, how to dig through old archives for the weirdest shit imaginable, how to trace supernatural patterns in a way you never would’ve noticed before.

But Dean? Dean was different. He had other plans.

“You’re not just gonna sit around playing librarian all day,” he told you one afternoon, his voice casual, but his expression anything but. Before you could ask what he meant, something came flying toward you.

Your hands shot up on instinct, fingers fumbling around the object before you finally got a grip on it. A second passed before you looked down, realization settling in.

A wooden practice knife. You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he echoed, arms crossed over his chest. “If something comes after you again, I want you to be able to defend yourself properly.”

There was no arguing with that look—the one that told you he had already made up his mind.

And so, Dean trained you. You hated him for it at first because he didn’t go easy on you. Not even for a damn second.

The first time you squared up with him, he didn’t even hesitate. One moment, you were gripping the knife, determined to prove yourself, and the next—you were flat on your back, the wind knocked clean out of you.

Dean towered over you, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I’m not a real monster. You’d be dead already.”

You groaned, staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe just kill me now.”

But he didn’t let you quit. He made you throw punches until your knuckles ached, made you dodge and block until your muscles burned, made you repeat the same damn moves over and over again until you got them right.

“You’re thinking too much,” he told you after you failed to land a hit for the third time in a row.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you snapped, breathing hard, sweat sticking to your skin.

Dean smirked. “Cute.”

God, that look he gave you—the cocky, infuriating, hot as hell smirk that made you want to punch him in the face just to wipe it off. He was all rough hands and sharp words, pushing you harder every day.

You weren’t the worst student he’d ever had, but still, he had no idea how the hell you’d managed to take down that shifter on your own. Luck? Instinct?

Either way, it wasn’t good enough.

And you could feel it—the tension thickening between you both with every training session. The way your bodies moved around each other, the way your breath mixed as you dodged each blow, the way he would grab your wrist, pulling you flush against him when you got too sloppy.

One afternoon, he had you pinned against the wall, his forearm pressed against your collarbone, holding you still. Your chest rose and fell against his, breathless, your skin burning where he touched you. “You keep dropping your left side,” he murmured, voice low, rough.

You swallowed hard, staring up at him. “I know.”

His eyes flickered to your lips—so fast you almost missed it, almost. But then, just as quickly, he was gone, stepping back, that damn smirk back in place. “Then stop doing it.”

That night, you spent an embarrassing amount of time lying awake, thinking about the way he had looked at you.

The boredom was killing you. And at first, it wasn’t so bad.

The bunker was massive, filled with books older than your grandparents, weapons you weren’t even allowed to touch without supervision, and endless hallways that you swore led to nowhere. You had training to focus on, bruises to ice, whiskey to steal from Dean’s stash when he wasn’t looking.

But ready or not, boredom came creeping in like a goddamn sickness. Because every time Sam and Dean left for a hunt, you were stuck. Alone.

The first few times, you didn’t mind. It was kind of nice, actually. Peaceful. You could sprawl out on the war room table, pick up one of those dusty old lore books, and pretend you weren’t completely out of your depth in this life. You started teaching yourself different languages, then flipping through pages of exorcisms just to pass the time. You memorized sigils and symbols, even started picking up bits and pieces of other languages such as Enochian, ancient Sumerian, shit you’d probably never even use.

But after a while, the silence got to you. The bunker was too big, too still. With no goddamn windows, no way to tell if it was day or night without checking the old clock on the wall. You used to love having all this space to yourself, but now? Now it felt like the walls were closing in. Like you were rotting down here, waiting for something to happen.

So you cleaned-- And cleaned--And cleaned some more. Until every single room in the bunker was spotless. Until you’d done all the laundry—yours, Sam’s, and Dean’s, just for something to do. You even took the time to fold their clothes because, let’s be honest, those two were a freaking mess.

You weren’t looking for them, honestly.

It wasn’t like you set out to dig through Dean’s stuff with the intent of uncovering his most embarrassing secrets. You were just trying to be nice—helpful even. Laundry was one of the only things keeping you sane while the guys were gone. It gave you a purpose, something to do.

But this? This was a fucking goldmine.

You held up the offending fabric, eyes widening in absolute horror before the laughter burst out of you, uncontrollable and borderline manic.

Dean Winchester, the badass hunter, feared by demons, monsters, and even some angels—owned underwear covered with hot dogs.

Your stomach hurt from how hard you were laughing, tears actually pricking at your eyes. And just when you thought you could breathe again, you reached back into the laundry pile and—Oh, oh, it got better.

Bright red socks, obnoxious and ridiculous, with the words 'SEND NOODS' printed across them in bold white letters. And the kicker? They had little cartoon ramen noodles on them.

You actually had to sit down on Dean’s bed to take a second and regain your breath.

Because of course this was Dean. Tough, rugged, walks-like-he-owns-the-room Dean, the man who could kill a monster without breaking a sweat, but who also shoved extra packets of hot sauce into his pockets every time you got takeout because he might need them later.

The same Dean who grumbled about bad movie plots but still secretly loved them, the same Dean who would throw a flirty wink at a waitress and then turn around and give his leftovers to a stray dog outside.

He was a contradiction. A mess of sharp edges and soft spots, of cocky grins and stupid jokes mixed with genuine, heart-wrenching moments of kindness.

And you loved him for it.

The realization had hit you like a truck. Dean wasn’t just your best friend. He wasn’t just the guy who had saved you, who had trained you, who had made sure you weren’t alone in this life.

He was the man you wanted.

And not just in the sweet, romantic, oh, let’s go on a date and hold hands kind of way.

No. It was the kind of want that made your skin burn, that kept you up at night with images of him pressed against you, mouth hot and claiming, hands gripping your waist like he needed you.

And it wasn’t just a one-time thing either.

It was constant.

Like when he walked around in nothing but a towel, fresh from the shower, water still dripping down his broad shoulders, the scent of his soap—god, that soap, clinging to the air.

Or when he leaned over you at the library table, arm brushing yours, voice low and gruff in your ear as he pointed something out in the lore book, and you had to physically stop yourself from turning your head just to get a whiff of his damn cologne.

And then there were the moments that really tested your willpower.

Like when Dean was working on the Impala. God help you, when Dean was working on Baby.

It shouldn’t have been so mesmerizing, shouldn’t have made your mouth go dry or your stomach twist into knots. But damn if it didn’t.

There he was, under the hood, sleeves pushed up, exposing those strong forearms—the ones you’d stared at countless times and never got tired of. The muscles in his back flexed beneath his Henley as he leaned over, hands expertly twisting a wrench, brows furrowed in concentration.

And then there was the grease. Smudged across his forearm, streaked along his jaw, a little bit on his cheek. It shouldn’t have been hot, but it was.

You swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck as you watched him, completely entranced. You tried to be subtle about it, really, you did. But your thighs pressed together on instinct, trying, failing to find some kind of relief.

Dean had always been a gorgeous man. That was just a fact. His sharp jawline, the freckles dusting his nose, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And that voice—gravelly and rough, especially in the mornings or when he was pissed off.

You’d always been attracted to him, but it had been manageable. A quiet, buried thing. At least, it had been. Because lately? Lately, it was getting bad. Like the time he caught you blushing—really blushing.

It was nothing, just a stupid little moment in the kitchen. You were making coffee, minding your own business, when Dean strolled in, half-awake, wearing nothing but his boxers. He yawned, stretched his arms above his head, his abs tightening, that faint happy trail disappearing beneath the waistband.

Your eyes snapped away, cheeks on fire, and you could feel his smirk before he even said a word.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” His voice was still thick with sleep, rougher than usual.

“Nope.” You turned your attention back to the coffee pot, praying to whoever that he wouldn’t press it.

But of course, this was Dean. He stepped up beside you, close enough that his body heat was noticeable, close enough that his scent—leather, whiskey, and oil wrapped around you like a goddamn trap.

“You sure? ‘Cause you’re lookin’ a little pink there.”

You scowled, keeping your eyes firmly on the coffee. “It’s warm in here.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Stupid smug bastard. You rolled your eyes.

But that was nothing compared to the other time. The time he really, really pushed you over the edge.

It was late. You were both in the library, going over lore books. Nothing exciting, just another normal night. And then—he did it. Completely unintentional, completely innocent.

He was leaning back in his chair, flipping through a book, and at some point, he rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms behind his head, muscles shifting beneath his Henley. And then he let out this low, satisfied groan.

And that was it. Game over. A pulse of heat shot straight to your core so fast it actually took your breath away. You squeezed your thighs together hard, trying to curb the ache, trying to breathe, but it didn’t help. It didn’t do anything.

Thankfully, Dean didn't notice. He just kept reading, oblivious to the fact that he had just wrecked you.

You barely made it to your room before you lost it.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, heart hammering, breath shallow. The heat pooling in your belly was impossible to ignore, the ache between your thighs maddening.

Jesus Christ. Dean Winchester was going to ruin you.

You swallowed, chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But it was useless. The second you closed your eyes, all you saw was him from that time you watched him work on Baby.

The grease smudged across his fingers, the way his biceps flexed as he worked on Baby, the sweat rolling down his neck in the heat of the garage. That sharp, smug smirk when he caught you staring too long. The way his voice roughened when he was exhausted, dropping into a low, gravelly drawl that sent a shiver down your spine.

If he ever figured it out, he’d destroy you.

A quiet, frustrated sigh left your lips as you squeezed your thighs together, but it wasn’t enough. The pressure only made it worse.

Your fingers moved before you could think, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. The first touch sent a shudder through you, an exhale leaving your lips as your body immediately reacted. But it wasn’t your own hand you were imagining.

It was his.

Calloused fingers skimming over your skin, teasing you, dragging over your sensitive flesh like he had all the time in the world. “Look at you,” his voice rasped in your head, the deep, husky tone laced with something dark, something possessive. “Knew you’d be sweet for me.”

Your breath hitched as your fingers moved faster, chasing the phantom sensation of his touch.

Dean, pressing you up against the Impala, his hands gripping your hips, pinning you there. His breath ghosting against your neck before his teeth scraped against your pulse. Your other hand clutched the fabric of your shirt, nails digging in as the pleasure built.

“Tell me how bad you want it, sweetheart.”

A quiet whimper slipped from your lips as you imagined him, imagined those same rough hands holding you down, spreading you open, teasing you until you were trembling, begging—And God, you would beg.

Your back arched, the pleasure coiling tighter, your body wound so tight you thought you might snap—

“Dean—” His name left your lips in a ragged gasp as you unraveled, waves of heat crashing over you. Your muscles tensed, thighs shaking, your own hand barely enough, because fuck, you knew nothing would ever compare to the real thing.

You stood there for a moment, skin flushed, heart still pounding. But as the high faded, another thought settled heavily in your chest.

This wasn’t just lust. Wasn’t just some reckless attraction. You didn’t just want Dean Winchester.

You were in love with him. Hopelessly, dangerously, in love with him. And if you weren’t careful? You were going to get burned.

But even that wasn’t enough to keep the boredom away. After all the cleaning, the laundry, the books, the languages—you had nothing left.

And it wasn’t just boredom anymore. It was loneliness. The bunker was too damn quiet without them. No sarcastic remarks from Dean, no long-winded research rants from Sam, no arguments over what food to order.

Just you. You wanted out. Wanted more.

And so, one night, as Dean was packing up his duffel, getting ready for another job, you finally snapped “I’m coming with you.”

Dean didn’t even look up. “No, you’re not.”

Your hands curled into fists. “Dean.”

He sighed, zipping his bag before finally turning to face you. “Look, I get it. You’re sick of being cooped up. You want to do something. But hunting isn’t a goddamn road trip, sweetheart.”

“I know that,” you shot back. “You think I haven’t been paying attention? I’ve trained. I know how to handle myself.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “It’s not the same.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “How the hell would you know? You never let me come.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a second, something flickered across his face, annoyance, maybe? or something deeper, something more hesitant. “Because it’s dangerous.”

“So is staying in the bunker and losing my mind,” you shot back. “I’ve been stuck down here for months, Dean. I research, I train, I do everything you ask—but I have no idea what it’s actually like out there. I want to see what you do. I want to understand it. And I want to understand you.”

That made him freeze.

It wasn’t the argument he was expecting. He was used to hearing, I can handle myself, or I just want to be useful, but this? You weren’t just asking to hunt. You were asking to know him.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Dean swallowed hard, running a hand over his jaw as he turned away, pretending to busy himself with his duffel bag. He needed to shut this down, fast. You had no idea what you were asking for.

“Look, I get it,” he muttered. “The bunker’s boring. But this life? It’s not what you think it is.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think it’s glamorous, Dean. I know it’s brutal. I’ve seen the aftermath, I’ve seen you come back with bruises and stitches and that dead look in your eyes. But that’s exactly why I want to go. Because I feel like I only know part of you. I see the guy who fixes cars and drinks shitty beer and argues with Sam about movie references—but I don’t know the hunter. And if I’m going to be part of this world now, I want to understand all of you.”

His stomach twisted. Because you already did know him. You knew him better than almost anyone. And maybe that was the real problem.

Dean had spent years forcing himself to keep his distance, making sure he never let anything slip.

But it was getting harder.

Every damn day, it got harder. Because the real truth? He didn’t just love you. He was in love with you.

It had started as something small—just admiration, just attraction. But then it grew, creeping into every part of him, sinking its claws deep. You were the only person, besides Sam, who made him feel like he wasn’t just some soldier marching toward an inevitable end.

And the worst part? You had no fucking clue.

Dean couldn’t risk telling you. Couldn’t risk ruining what you had. So instead, he locked it down, buried it beneath sarcasm and forced nonchalance, kept his hands to himself even when he ached to pull you close.

Sure, hunting was hell. Dean had been through it all—bloody fights with creatures that could tear him apart, near-death experiences more times than he could count, nights spent in shitty motel rooms with nothing but whiskey and nightmares for company.

But the bunker? Christ, it was torture now.

There was nowhere to hide from you. No distance to put between himself and the way you unknowingly drove him out of his goddamn mind. You had no clue. No fucking idea what you did to him.

It was the little things, the casual, effortless way you existed in his space, like you belonged there. Like you’d always belonged there.

The way you walked around in his shirts sometimes—shit you probably didn’t even think twice about. But Dean did, he thought about it constantly.

Because his shirts swallowed you up, the fabric hanging loose off your shoulders, barely covering your ass, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to stare. Not to imagine what it would be like if you were wearing nothing underneath, if he could just slide his hands up those bare thighs and fuck you senseless.

Fuck.

And then there was the stretching. It wasn’t even intentional, wasn’t like you were trying to kill him, but fuck if it didn’t wreck him. Like when you’d wander into the kitchen first thing in the morning, hair a mess, still sleepy-eyed, and reach your arms over your head in a slow, lazy stretch that had your back arching just right.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst was when you’d yawn, soft and content, lips parted slightly, making these little noises that sent Dean’s brain straight into the gutter. Because all he could think about was how you’d sound if he had you underneath him—if he was pulling those sounds from your lips himself.

And if that weren't enough, thats when the heat would settle low in his stomach, spreading like wildfire, and before he could even think about stopping it—bam. Instant boner.

But then came the real problem, hiding it. Which was a hell of a lot harder than it should’ve been.

Like the time you flopped down next to him at the kitchen table, stretching with a soft groan, and he nearly choked on his coffee because holy shit, that sound went straight to his dick. He’d had to shift in his seat, subtly adjust himself under the table, and pray to every goddamn angel in existence that you didn’t notice.

Or the time you asked him to pass you something from the top shelf, and when you reached up to grab it, your body brushed against his, just barely, but fuck—he had to back up so fast he nearly knocked over a chair.

And then there was the absolute worst moment.

The time you hugged him. You’d been in a good mood about something, probably after kicking his ass at poker and you just threw your arms around him, squeezing tight, your body pressed right up against his.

And Dean? He fucking froze. Because all he could think about was how warm you were, how you fit against him perfectly, how easy it would be to slide his hands down, grip your hips, pull you in even closer—

And then it happened again. Another traitorous, fucking boner. Dean had never panicked so hard in his life. He patted your back stiffly, pulled away before you could notice, and immediately sat down at the nearest table, praying you wouldn’t ask why he suddenly had to stay seated.

Jesus Christ, he was a mess.

And it wasn’t just the physical frustration—it was you. It was the way you felt like home. The way you didn’t even realize you’d completely wrecked him.

And the worst part? He didn’t think he’d ever stop wanting you. He’d have to force himself to look away, think about something else, anything else, but it never worked.

And that’s how he found himself here. In the shower, water scalding hot, one hand braced against the tile while the other wrapped around his painfully hard cock. He bit down on his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and let the images take over.

You, sprawled out on his bed, looking up at him with those wide, teasing eyes. You, wearing his damn shirt, nothing underneath, your skin soft and warm as he slid his hands underneath the fabric.

You, gasping his name as he finally got his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting—

A deep, guttural groan ripped from his throat as he came, pleasure crashing through him so hard his knees nearly buckled. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, forehead pressed against the cool tile.

And then, like always, came the guilt. Because you weren’t his and you had no idea how fucking badly he wanted you to be.

But then there was Sam. And Sam, Dean's annoying little brother? He saw everything.

“Dude,” he’d said once, shaking his head as they packed up for a hunt. “You’re pathetic.”

Dean scowled. “Excuse me?”

Sam just grinned, tossing a knife into his bag. “You gonna tell her, or you just gonna keep sighing longingly every time she walks by?”

“Shut up.”

But Sam didn’t shut up. Ever. Especially not when Dean constantly checked his phone on hunts. The moment he and Sam rolled into a new town, Dean was texting you, calling you, making sure you were okay.

Sam would tease him relentlessly. “You just talked to her an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re like a clingy boyfriend.”

“Eat a dick, Sammy.”

But Sam wasn’t wrong. And now you were standing in front of him, looking at him like he was some goddamn puzzle you were trying to solve, and it was taking everything in him not to crack.

Because you wouldn’t let this go. You were relentless, you'd bring it up every damn day, and the more you would push, the weaker his resolve would get.

But the worst part about it all? You were right. You should see all aspects of him. If you were really going to be part of this life, you needed to understand it.

That didn’t make it any easier but Dean let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine.”

You blinked. “What?”

“One hunt,” he said, meeting your gaze. “Just one. No arguments.”

A triumphant grin spread across your face as Dean groaned. “I already regret this.” But so did his gut because something about this felt wrong, and it was too late now.

series masterlist next part

author’s note:

let’s say it in unison now, maddie is fucking insane! lmfaooooo. I honestly just kept thinking of more stuff to write and before I knew it I had an 11k fic sitting right infront of my face. I didn’t want to make the ‘oneshot’ too long so I decided to split it up into three parts, hence the ‘mini series’ :)

also, special thanks to @aylacavebear for helping me with this little mini series. I don’t know what I’d do without you!

I really hope you like it @anbernen ! if you don’t like smut you can always skip the third part :) I just felt like this story needed a little smut so I went ahead and wrote it lmfao. hehe, enjoy! ❤︎

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @exansation @darkrose064 @megara0224 @saturnsooya @miss-marmalade (lmk if I’ve missed anyone or if you’d like to be taken off the list) btw I apologize for the small spam..

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission

[wukyma]

I'm very curious about your Posepoli AU if you are OK with sharing facts about it ? Maybe what you have in mind? Or what Poseidon have in mind withvhis proposition 🤔 I can't only imagine the crew reaction

Also I'm in absolute love with your art ! The way you color? Your Odysseus ? Incredible. Make me think about fairy tales book illustrations you know ? And don't let go on your design of Poseidon ? He look so cold and distanced, it's actually genius!

Oh, thank you so much 💖 It means a lot! I loved illustrated fairytales as a kid and had a similar book of Greek myths, so that's probably where the style comes from, hehe

As for the AU... I lied shamelessly in the other post and speedran through coloring the panels and imma show y'all everything today!

If you haven't seen the previous one go check it out first

SO, Polites lives. But now he has to cope with the consequences of their recklessness,,

⬇️⬇️⬇️ cut because yapping again

The wind bag gets opened, and they're faced with Poseidon seeking revenge,,

Odysseus' apology isn't accepted (who even apologizes like that??), but Poseidon doesn't get to strike him —

Polites steps in and asks for them to be spared.

The god almost laughs in his face because that's an utterly ridiculous attempt, but decides that there's no harm in amusing himself a bit. Yet, no matter what Poseidon thinks about the man and how much he despises his ideals,, Polites is very different from most mortals he met, with his unshakeable belief in a better world (that realization happens much later in the plot, at the moment he's just pissed off)

So, yeah. Poseidon gives them a challenge: if they find another way around the storm, continue their journey without harming or killing (as per Poli's ideology), and get home, he will spare everyone, even Odysseus. The one who's formally "responsible" for holding up their end of the deal is still Polites, and he gets a kind of seal/tattoo as proof that neither side will go against the terms (yay ✨️aesthetics ✨️)

Forgot to mention: the whole crew is alive — 600 men making their way to Ithaca!

Next stop would be Circe's island,,, guess who will become besties? Ehehwhe

Things I believe are important to mention:

Poseidon REALLY doesn't like Polites in this AU (well,, for now) and wants to see him fail, then drown the fleet and be done with it

His main motivation here wouldn't be to avenge Polyphemus, but to prove that Polites is wrong (same as with Odysseus, but more intense)

Get ready for tons of mockery in the next part ( ；∀；)

I headcanon (not just in this AU but in general) that Polites, Perimedes, and Elpenor are also very close friends!

Odysseus is oblivious about Poli's feelings towards him (dude is mole-blind when it comes to that), but Eurylochus knows

Umm, so that's it for now! See y'all next time, because telling things without throwing pictures in seems meh... However, that's up to you, too. I can continue as it is and draw the scenes you'd like to see and/or choose later :3 Just write how u think would be more okayish i guess??

Bonus thing: congrats on reading till the end lol. there is one inconsistency in the comic above. at the sketch stage I flipped 3 of these panels, and they don't match with the other ones (seen in the details) first one to guess (say the nr order, idc) gets to request ANYTHING epic‐related from me :D

[moonstruckme]

Hiiii!! I saw that you were asking for camp counselor! James and I got an idea, what if reader and him weren’t yet together but they were both pinning on one another and he was just telling the kids how adorable the reader is and the kids thought that they would be so good together and were so happy when they finally got together!!!

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words

You spot James before he does you, holding court among a circle of campers enjoying their free time after lunch. The sun beats down on the unshaded bit of grass in front of his cabin, but James doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all loose and smiley, skin glowing in the afternoon light and hair that hasn’t been cut since May curling just above the rims of his glasses, meanwhile you can already feel the tickle of sweat forming on your skin. 

He looks up as you approach, grin widening the second before his face smooths into seriousness. “Careful, guys, we’ve got a wily one coming to join us,” he tells the kids. “Keep your cards close.” 

You roll your eyes, sitting down with your legs crossed beneath you between a couple of girls from your cabin. “What are you playing?” You ask them, and yet James answers anyway. 

“Blackjack.” You look up at him, and he smiles. Almost bashfully, like he’s unable to help himself. “Crazy eights,” he concedes, setting down his hand to deal you in. “Here, we’re just starting.” 

“James,” one of his boys whines, “we’re halfway through.”

“What harm does it do you, Cal?” he asks. “You’re set to win anyway.” 

“It’s okay,” you promise, “James is allowed to set me up for failure if he likes.” 

James pretends to be appalled, making the kids laugh, but he can’t keep it up for long before he’s smiling back at you. You like doing this with him, allying together. It feels like you’re in on some sort of secret, though you’re not sure what that might be. 

“It’s probably because he fancies her,” one of the other boys whispers to Cal in a not-so-low voice. 

You do your best to keep your eyes on your cards and your feelings off your face, but you feel a heat that has nothing to do with the sun creeping up the back of your neck. 

“Shush!” One of your campers, Mary, elbows the other boy sharply. “You’re so loud.” 

You don’t dare sneak a glance up at James, but when one of the girls goes, “Wait, what?” and the circle erupts in giggles, you can’t help it. He’s grinning at you, that us-against-the-world look again, like kids, right? You hope your answering smile looks half as relaxed. 

“You guys are worse gossips than my mum, you know that?” The kids’ laughter worsens as he feigns an exasperation that’s easy to see through, setting his hands on his hips. You pointedly do not notice how nicely the pose displays his biceps and forearms. “This is why I don’t tell you any real secrets.”

The boys from James’ cabin look genuinely upset. You feel a bit bad for them even as relief washes over you, tinged with a bit of disappointment.

“It wasn’t a secret?” the boy who’d spoken asks. 

James gives him a sideways look. “Hate to break it to you, mate, but look at her.” Blood rushes to your face as the kids gasp and ooh conspiratorially at each other almost too loud for you to hear him saying, “I’m only human.” 

You feel no better than the kids when the first response that rushes to your lips is shut up, but you choose to take your own advice, rolling your eyes like you think he’s joking despite the light and undeniable sincerity in James’ tone. Butterflies crowd your stomach.

“Y/n, are you gonna be his girlfriend?” one of the girls from your cabin asks, grinning ear to ear. 

“Um, it’s not quite so simple—” 

“Terrible!” James exclaims, looking around the circle with a scandalized expression. “You’re all terrible. I haven’t even asked her anything! You’re going to kill your counselor, and what then? You think the next one will let you play in her hammock?” 

“We’re not allowed to do that anymore,” another of your girls says sulkily. 

James looks to you, and you shrug, sheepish. “I got caught. They said it wasn’t safe.” 

“Whatever,” James blazes onward, “the point is, who will I have to talk to if you kill her? Be considerate, guys. Plan ahead.” 

“James,” you plead, very nearly on the brink of actual death, you’re sure. 

“And that,” he says promptly, stacking three fives and holding up his hands empty, “is how you win at crazy eights.” 

The kids erupt in shouts, pointing fingers and throwing down their cards, and James sends you a wink. 

You think you need to take a dunk in the lake. 

[crazycat010]

I found you

PART ONE OF THE Gojo Satoru x reader (soulmates AU)

part 1 ; part 2

IN WHICH: Gojo finally finds his soulmate, after being given a very unlucky way of connecting to them.

fluff, angst, y/n is insecure about her looks and powers, her colleagues are worried sick about her. Almost-dying thoughts. Talks about death (fight and curses being killed), blood and scars. Fight between y/n and her friend.

Reader is written about as a female and there are references to her clothing. Happy ending.

word count=6.103 words

“Ahh” Gojo hissed, grabbing his face in pain, when was it going to end?

Another blow, this time directed to his abdomen, made him double over in pain.

“Gojo-sensei! Are you okay?” Yuji gasped, checking to see if he was okay.

“Yeah, don’t worry! M’fine.” The teacher laughed it off, used to the feeling.

“You sure got an unlucky way of connecting with your soulmate.” Maki added.

He shrugged his shoulders. He was one of the strongest, if not the strongest sorcerers alive, he came from a rich family, had many friends at Jujutsu High and a never ending list of women of all kinds who would do everything to even go on a date with him! All in all, he considered himself lucky, yeah, maybe his parents hadn’t been the best, being married for convenience and not love, but his mother loved him and his sister was very dear to him.

Nonetheless, everyone who learned his way of connecting with his soulmate cringed sorrowfully, pitying him: he felt most, if not all, the pain his soulmate felt. Though it was probably the same for his other half, it really made his life more difficult. It was like they were constantly getting beaten up for some reason, while he tried in every way possible to not hurt himself as to not pain them more.

With his students, he was headed to the entry of Tokyo Jujutsu High School’s complex, where he would meet with the students and teachers from the Kyoto College.

He’d heard a new teacher had recently arrived, but he didn’t care about it much. He had resigned from trying to reach his soulmate a long time ago, after many years spent searching.

He had gotten quite tired, and decided it would be better to let fate do his own thing. Was he gonna meet his soulmate soon? Had he already met her? Was he ever going to meet her?

Those question remained unanswered, and the ‘soulmate’ case closed.

After a long walk, they’d finally reached the meeting point. He had never realized the grounds were so big…

They were met with the usual group: the two teachers Gakuganji and Utahime and the students Mai Zenin, Kasumi Mia, Noritoshi Kamo, Aoi Todo and Mono Nishimiya.

Gojo looked around, expecting to see another teacher, but was found with nobody else.

Not having to hear the question, Utahime had already answered: “The new teacher had… some jobs to finish. She should arrive this evening.”

“Oh, okay! Well, let’s head to the school grounds so we can have a proper catch up!” Gojo said happily, masking yet another strong blow, this time aimed to the back of his neck.

The trek in the Foothills of Mount Mushiro was unusually quiet.

Seeing Gojo’s confused expression, Utahime said: “The kids have grown quite attached to our new teacher. They’ll get back to normal once she’s back.” She told him calmly, almost as she was reassuring herself.

“So, what’s up with this new teacher?” Satoru couldn’t help but ask, interested in this new mysterious figure.

“I promised not to do any spoilers, but I’ll tell you this: she’s very patient and kind, even more than me. The only problem is, taking care of everybody else, she often forgets to look after herself, getting injured because of her Cursed Technique. That pretty much sums up her entire personality, so I think you two will get along nicely.”

“Oh so they’re a she?” Gojo implied, smirking.

Utahime rolled her eyes, chuckling.

“Anyways, it’s good to know we’ve got someone else on our side. I bet you care a lot about her.” He replied.

“We all do…”

The dinner was filled with the usual laughter and chaotic environment, created by the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event. Yet Gojo could sense something was off: while most of the students were able to fake it and enjoy their time, Utahime, Mai and Todo looked nervous and uptight, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly, Mei Mei said, taken back: “She’s here.”

Mai and Todo sprinted towards the door, Utahime and the rest of he students following closely.

Even the old Yoshinobu had gotten up and was slowly heading towards the entrance door.

“Hellooo…Ahh!” Said an unfamiliar voice, before hearing a loud thump of bodies falling over.

“I swear if you ever scare us like that again, we will kill you. And that’s final.” Mai said to the unknown figure in a stern voice, opposed to her comforted look.

“Todo?” Asked the girl, searching for help.

“I’m on her side on this one.” Answered the black-haired boy.

“C’mon, not even you Utahime?” She asked again. Utahime raised her hands up, showing she was also on the green haired girl’s side.

“We’re glad you’re back, Y/n-sensei.” Said Kamo, offering a hand to get her up to her feet, while Yoshinobu simply nodded.

“We sure are!” Said Mika and Nishimiya, reaching for their teacher in a fond group hug.

‘So that’s the mysterious teacher…Y/n. That’s an unusual name, but I like it’ Gojo thought, heading to the new sensei to properly greet her.

“So you must be the new teacher everyone’s talking about!” Said Gojo.

“Y/n Y/Ln, it’s nice to meet you.” She replied.

“Gojo Satoru, and the pleasure is all mine.” Said the smug teacher, going for a simple handshake since he’d noticed her hands were entirely covered by black leather gloves.

‘The new teacher looked, weird. Not in a bad way though. She had silver straight hair, cut short just below her chin, with a huge side bang covering the left side of her face. Her eyes resembled her personality, a sparkly silver adorned by big lashes and complimented by a pair of thin brows of roughly the same color. She wasn’t short, but she was just around Utahime’s height, so the difference between her and Satori made her lift her chin upwards in a cute way, in order to face him directly. Her clothes were torn apart, leaving her in a black leather suit that covered her entire body, a neck warmer on her neck and chin and a belt with small weapons, matching gloves and combat steel-toe boots. She was full of cuts and what looked like blood and dirt and prominent a eye bag could be seen on her right side of the face.’ Gojo eyed her cautiously.

“Well, I’m sure you must be famished by now, so why don’t we go back to the dinner table and get a new seat for miss Y/Ln here.” Shoko interrupted the oncoming silence.

“Don’t worry. I was able to grab something to eat along the way. Nonetheless I’m very tired, so, if you don’t mind, I’ll head to my dorm to wash off the dirt and get some rest.” Y/n kindly turned down her offer.

“I’ll show you the dorms.” Utahime intervened, grabbing her by her arm with force.

“Don’t worry, I saw where they were com…” The silver haired girl tried to stop Utahime, but was met with an icy glare even Gojo had rarely seen on his ex-classmate’s features.

“I said I’m showing you the dorms. C’mon let’s go.” She ordered Y/n, who couldn’t do anything but comply, getting pitiful looks from her students.

The evening continued nonetheless, no sign of Utahime’s return.

‘That just means we’ll get to meet the new kid tomorrow’, Gojo shrugged it off.

The next day, Y/n was finally able to join the others for breakfast, having been patched up the night before by a very angry Utahime.

She knew what she had done the other day was risky, telling everybody to go so she could single-handedly defeat the three first grade curses, but she wasn’t gonna risk anyone else getting injured, that’s just who she was like.

She knew Utahime would’ve gotten furious and mad at her for making her worry and scolding her, but, in reality, she was happy knowing there were people who really cared about her well-being.

That morning she ate almost twice her daily portions: she had lied the day before, in fact, she hadn’t eaten anything since the past breakfast, but she didn’t want to intrude in the meal or, especially, she didn’t want to have to take off her gloves or any other part of her suit to eat.

Underneath all that fabric, her body was constantly full of bruises and cuts, which concentrated on her arms and the cause was her Cursed Technique.

YOUR (Y/N’S) POV

“Soo, Y/Ln. How are you feeling? You looked pretty rough last day.” Gojo tried to initiate a conversation with you, after you’d finished eating and were casually strolling around the campus to show you were all the main facilities were located.

“I’m fine, thanks. And please, call me Y/n.” You responded, smiling.

“That goes for me too. Anyways, I’m glad you’re doing good, you should’ve seen your students and co-teachers yesterday, they were worried sick.” He replied.

“I’m sure they were.”

“Well, you got me curious. What happened?” He asked, trying to not invade your privacy but at the same time get to know you more.

“Let’s just say, on our way here, we got caught up with some curses. They weren’t that strong, but I decided to finish the job myself while the others came here.” You answered.

“What grade were they? What do you mean by some?” He questioned you.

“They were…three first grades.” You said, a bit embarrassed for some reason.

“What? I mean, wow! You managed to take them all out on your own! I don’t mean to come as judgy or stuff, but when they’d told me a new teacher had arrived at Kyoto High, I didn’t really expect someone that strong.” He said, shocked.

“Thanks, I guess…? I kinda get that a lot!” You replied, chuckling to yourself and shoving your hands in your pockets.

You wore a simple navy blue hoodie and black tight jeans with a pair of white and blue sneakers with silver gloves covering your hands.

You had always been very insecure about your scars, being basically covered in scratches and those squiggly white lines. When you didn’t wear gloves or you exposed your scars in any way, you always got weird or pitiful stares from those around you, so, a couple of years ago, you’d decided it would be in your best interest to hide them.

You started absentmindedly fidgeting with your necklace, until Gojo interrupted you in your actions: “What’s up with the gloves? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You were used to people asking that type of questions, so you replied how you usually did: “My hands get cold.”

He stared at you, unamused. Many people figured that was a lie, but they usually dropped the topic at your response. Instead, he questioned you further: “Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes, not knowing if you were more irritated or amused by his investigative nature. All your friends knew about it, and he looked like a pretty chill guy, so, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him.

“Okay, fine. It’s because of my Cursed Technique. It’s called Glass Veil.”

He seemed intrigued by it, asking you: “I’ve never heard of it before. How does it work?” 

You decided to explain it further: “it’s exactly what it sounds like. I create barriers made of transparent, glass-like cursed energy. They can reflect attacks, bend light to make me invisible, or distort space to create mirages. Sounds great, right? Yeah, well, here’s the catch. My defenses aren’t invincible—if an attack is too strong, the barriers shatter, and I feel every bit of that damage. Cuts, energy recoil, you name it. And if I try to reflect something too powerful? My own body starts breaking down from the strain. Oh, and those mirages? They don’t just mess with my enemies—they mess with me too. Use too many, and suddenly, I can’t tell what’s real anymore. If I push myself too hard, my entire technique collapses like shattered glass—leaving me completely defenseless. So yeah… it’s powerful, but if I’m not careful? It’ll kill me before my opponent even gets the chance.”

He looked at you, amazed. “Woah. I didn’t know techniques like that existed. I’m sorry for you though, it must hurt when you fight.”

“Yeah, well, you get used to it.”

“You know you shouldn’t. You should ask for help if fighting off curses becomes a threat to your safety.” He scolded you.

“Thanks…I-I mean, I don’t know what to say. I really appreciate it, Satoru.” Yes, you had many friends that worried about you, but this felt different. You were happy to know you’d made a new friend. After knowing how your technique worked, most tried to change the argument or make it about themselves, making you wonder if you’d said something wrong.

“But hey, enough about me. What do you have to tell me?” You asked.

“Well, I think you know pretty well how my Cursed Techniques work.” Gojo replied.

“Yeah, but, I’d like to hear more about how you manage to use them.” You inquired further.

“Okay, so, basically…” He had looked surprised at first, but in the end, started telling you everything. He talked to you about the basics of his techniques, then began to trail off about how he’d learned them and how he used them in fights. You’d talked so much it had already become lunch time, when, somehow, the topic became the thing you feared the most: soulmates.

You’d heard of all types of ways someone is connected to his soulmate and finds him, there were the most romantic ones, like where the other’s first sentence to you is written on your forearm; the more unique ones, where one would switch bodies with the other on a certain date; or the more creative ones where flowers sprouted in the point the other would first touch you or bump into you. You’d read so many books about it, wondering if you’d ever be able to find your soulmate.

You’d tried anything, yet you never found any red strings, or markings on your skin.

The main difficulty was, you didn’t have any signs of knowing if your soulmate was alive or not. I mean, you sometimes felt intense pain in parts of your body, but you were convinced it was simply because of your Cursed Technique and how you often over-worked yourself, which looked like a pretty good explanation for those around you.

“Do you have a soulmate?” Gojo asked, coming to a stop.

You were in front of a beautiful lake with the sun and a soft breeze helping you relax.

“Not that I know of. They might as well be dead or have never existed. I never got any signs actually.” You said, voice lowering.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Satoru said, staring at his shoes sadly.

“What about you? I’m sure you got a beautiful lady or dude waiting for you at home.” You shrugged off the heavy burden that had weighed on your shoulders since forever.

“Pft. I wish!” He replied.

“Wait really? Did you get any signs?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I can feel part of their pain, at least the physical one.” He said, chuckling.

“Oof, that must be painful!” You said.

“Yes, it is. I just wish I could find her, or him for that matter. I’ve been searching for years.” He confessed you.

You went to give him a pat on the back, telling him encouragingly: “I’m sure you’ll find them, sooner or later. I may have not known you for much, but you seem like a pretty good guy, and after all you’ve done as a Sorcerer, you deserve to have a happy ending more than anyone.

He looked taken back at your words and hugged you tightly, crying a bit in your sweater.

You caressed his broad shoulders, giving him small reassuring pats, and telling him not to worry, your heart subtly breaking at his broken state.

Breaking the hug, he wiped his eyes and sniffed, feeling like a weight had been lifted from him with his confessions.

Grabbing a tissue from your pockets, you wiped his beautiful eyes, getting lost in them for a second.

You then offered it to him to blow his nose, and he took it gratefully, thanking you.

“Blimey, it’s already 1:15 p.m.! We’re late for lunch!” You said panicked, looking at his watch.

Laughing, he took his hand in yours with a nonchalant: “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

In the blink of an eye, you’d been teleported right outside the dining hall, where he kindly opened the door for you and held it in a very gentlemanly way.

Thanking him, you quickly reached your seat at the table, in between Mai and Utahime, who both wore the same scolding look as ever, to which you replied with a tight lipped smile.

That afternoon, the students’ training was planned, in order to make the last preparations before the competition days.

You sat on a bench near the practice grounds with Gojo, asking him about his students and their cursed techniques.

The day ended quickly, and you soon sent all your students off to bed, in order to regain all their strength back with a good night’s sleep and be in perfect shape for tomorrow’s team competition.

The next day, tension filled the air heavily and all the students were silent, reorganizing their mind and thinking about the strategies they had  practiced yesterday.

You didn’t know what the Tokyo students had in mind, but with your students you had elaborated an intricate and intelligent plan that used everyone’s abilities: Mono would be the jolly, controlling from above on her flying broomstick the situation and occasionally helping on the grounds, Miwa would work in pair with Mekamaru, focusing on the trio formed by Panda, Yuta and Inumaki; Todo had taken upon himself the responsibility of Yuji Itadori; Kamo would concentrate on Megumi and Mai on Nobara and Maki.

You’d explicitly told them not to engage combat unless needed, focusing on the task at hand, which consisted of killing 14 curses scattered across the forests of Mount Mushiro.

You teachers were to gather in the main classroom, where you would know what your students were doing thanks to Mei Mei’s crows.

To say you were anxious was an understatement, but Utahime told you to calm down and that everything was under control in case something went wrong.

The teams had until midday to defeat the curses, and then the team with the most points would’ve won.

Everything was going smoothly, the teams having killed 6 curses each and not fighting against each other too much.

That was, until Mei Mei lost contact with her crows. It was obvious someone, or something, had killed them.

You immediately panicked, scared your students could get hurt by what had finished Mei’s crows. The other teachers were on alert as well, instantly dividing their jobs between who would rescue the kids and who was going to fight off the curse.

Mei Mei had been able to get back one crow, which helped you all realize the problem at hand: there were around 5 special grade curses and many lower-grade curses.

You had planned for Gojo, Yaga, Yoshinobu and Mei to fight off the curses while Utahime, Nanami and Shoko were going to help the students.

They were going to divide themselves into groups for the different areas of the High School: Gojo and Mei would take the eastern side of Mount Mushiro, Yaga and Yoshinobu the Western. There was only the section surrounding the dormitories left, but before you could offer yourself for the job, Utahime grabbed you by the wrist: “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What?” You scoffed.

“You’re not joining the fight, you’re already injured.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” You replied cockily.

“You don’t get to choose after all your reckless decisions.” She shouted back, the room going silent.

“They’re my students too, so if you think I’m just gonna sit here while they risk their lives out there, then you’re wrong.”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Hey Utahime, calm down. We know you’re right but we have other things to discuss right now.” Gojo tried to make the girl relax.

“No you shut up! Y/n don’t you dare step out of that room! Do you understand me?” She said.

“I already told you I’m going and there’s no stopping me!” You replied, moments away from becoming the angriest you had ever been.

Impatient, she lashed out at your insolence:“YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!”

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” You yelled back, the words slipping out of your mouth before you were able to register it.

Everybody’s heads turned to you, making you feel uncomfortable, so you decided to just go outside and do your job: “I’m going to fight the curses located near the dormitory, if someone else has got anything to say, tell it to the wall, at least it may listen.”

You shut the door loudly behind you, not caring about their shocked expressions or Utahime’s blank stare: you were utterly furious, who was she to tell you what to do? You were a grown-up sorcerer, you knew the risks of your job. She had no reason to lash out at you that way, she may have been worried, but it’s still your students we’re talking about; besides, your bruises had already completely healed and you were well-rested.

Thinking back to it, though, you felt sorry to have screamed at her, she hadn’t deserved it: she was only worried about you, but it sometimes got too much; you would apologize later.

You started running to the site in the uncomfortable sweater. You certainly hadn’t expected an attack that day, so the outfit wasn’t the most appropriate: you wore a baggy pink hoodie with a plain black sports Bra underneath and a matching pair of black leggings with your usual boots and gloves.

Along the way, you met a few small curses, bringing them down one by one without even having to use your powers, slicing them in parts with the small knives hid in the boots.

Reaching the dormitories, everything seemed oddly quiet and ordinary around you, until you sensed a tremor in the ground.

What was happening? You looked around as the ground rumbled and shook, a huge crack filled with water opening a few feet away from you. Out of the blue (literally), emerged a towering, humanoid figure with a body made of black, swirling water, deep-sea corals, and glowing abyssal fish embedded in its skin, its face masked by an eerie, translucent jellyfish-like veil.

You rapidly formed a glass shield around you to protect you from the high-speed water whips that came from the creature’s limbs.

You didn’t recount ever facing a curse like this before, but you figured it was nature-based.

In the bat of an eye, the whips started coming from all directions, rendering you unable to do anything but protect yourself in any way you could.

You formed a glass sphere around you, in order to get complete coverage while you studied the curse’s powers and thought of a plan to end him.

However, you weren’t given the time to think, as a water field surrounded your figure, pressure rising at unmatchable speed while the temperature and the oxygen decreased.

You had to be swift: you were already in a glass bell-like structure, where the oxygen would’ve run out quickly, so your biggest issue at the moment was to keep breathing.

Feeling another tidal wave coming to hit you, you made up a fallback plan, using the strong force to make the glass bell explode from within, sending shards of glasses flying and temporarily stopping the curse from attacking you because of the great quantity of cursed energy that had hit him.

You regained fighting stance in that short period of time, but weren’t able to react as another huge wave crashed over you, swallowing you whole. It would’ve been useless to create another shield, as it would’ve shattered in pieces, causing you severe feedback injuries and tiring you even more in the effort.

You felt like you were in a maelstrom, unable to breath and consequentially think properly, losing consciousness against the high pressure and not feeling your limbs because of the intense cold that had surrounded you.

You regained your vision, once the curse had stabilized the whirlpool in front of him and cleared a small tunnel, barely big enough for you to start breathing again.

He smirked at your unresponsiveness, your head throbbing and heavy: what if Utahime was right? Maybe you shouldn’t have come here, maybe you shouldn’t have tried to save your students, becoming a dead-weight to the other sorcerers who could actually provide help to those in need. Maybe you weren’t enough and you shouldn’t have ever considered becoming a jujutsu sorcerer. You should’ve stayed with your parents, attended a good school and got a financially rewarding job, ignoring the monsters you saw while walking around the city center and forgetting about the small light balls you had been able to create since you were a kid.

You could’ve prevented this, but deep down, you had always known it: you were born alone and you were going to die alone. You couldn’t wish for your friends or family’s help: your family loved you dearly, but, not being sorcerers, they didn’t understand you; Utahime and the rest of Kyoto’s sorcerers only took you under their wing out of pity, nobody saw you as anything else but a loner who liked hurting herself. You weren’t going to have a happy ending like Gojo or Utahime deserved, you were never going to find your soulmate.

Accepting your fate, a smile found its way onto your cracked lips, tears flowing freely from your eyes and merging with the surrounding water.

“I knew you were an easy prey the moment I saw you. How could anybody this helpless become a sorcerer? If you’re afraid of your own looks, how do you expect to be able to save everybody? You can’t fight! You were never meant to become a sorcerer, you’re just a harmless little girl who’ll die alone and unloved, forgotten by her very own friends and family.”

You knew it was the end, yet you weren’t scared. Exhaustion took over you as the Abyssal Curse, ‘Shinkai’, as you remembered him from a book in Kyoto’s library, ultimated his domain expansion: The Midnight Trench.

Suddenly, you were surrounded by void, you started struggling to breath, lungs feeling flooded and bones crushing under the increased water pressure and cursed energy barriers.

Then, a group of sea-monsters like you’d never encountered before, attacked you, devouring you from limb to limb, ripping your body to pieces as your mind felt like it was about to explode.

You saw your friends’ faces and your past’s happy memories started filling your head: you saw your parents bringing you for the first time at a Luna Park, Utahime comforting you after a bad training, Shoko curing your cuts, Mai and Todo offering you your very first Takoyaki, Gojo hugging you so tightly you felt like you couldn’t breath…

You couldn’t breath. YOU COULDN’T BREATH!

You had to get out of here, you were too young to die! You still had to save your students, find a real purpose in life, make your family and friends proud and happy but, most importantly, you had to find your soulmate! You couldn’t let your family, Utahime or your other colleagues down and you had to prove the curse wrong: you could fight and you sure as heck were going to!

You tried to remember what you had read about this particular curse: their domain expansion was characterized by hallucinations like the one you were having right now. You concentrated on your powers, when immediately a thought came to your mind, making you laugh: ‘You were the one who created mirage-like illusions! This curse had no chance against you whilst it used your own cursed technique!’

Simultaneously, you created a new mirage of yourself and made the real you invisible, thanks to the small light that reflected into the oceanic void.

As the curse started attacking the illusion, you saw a ray of sunshine from above: that was it! You’d found an exit!

You decided it was time to test that little gadget Mechamaru had built inside your boots: clicking a small button, a soft gush of wind came out from your soles, slowly lifting you in the air.

A soft breeze caressed your face, body warming with the sun rays, clean air filling your lungs: you had made it out! Concentrating on what you had to do now, you suppressed temporarily your ecstasy, knowing it wouldn’t have taken long for the curse to discover the deception.

You remembered these kind of curses usually took their cursed energy from water sources they couldn’t depart from, unless they didn’t mind losing a substantial portion of their powers.

Looking around, you noticed how a blue gluey trail connected the curse, still focused on their small domain, to a water fountain near the dormitory.

Sprinting towards it with all the strength you had left, you closed the pipe in order to stop the water from running and cutting off Shinkai’s water source.

The curse visibly tumbled, the energy they had previously used for their techniques and domain being drained from their body.

“Hah! You escaped, you insolent little girl. I should’ve known. Well, what are we gonna do now?”

You kept silent and invisible, circling him as he kept his back on you, eyes trained where the whirlpool had been until seconds ago.

Having reached the perfect spot, you revealed yourself: “I’ll kill you and all your stupid friends.”

“I’d like to see you t…”

His sentence was cut short by you slicing his head off with a sword made out of light.

The Jelly sphere rolled onto the ground, the body collapsing on itself and becoming a pool of suspiciously dark water, before evaporating completely.

You sighed, but the happiness was shortly lived.

Not only were the grounds near the dormitory a complete mess, but also you were full of cuts and bruises, your head so heavy it felt like it was about to fall off.

On your right arm, a huge gash had appeared, blood dripping copiously and drenching your torn apart hoodie. You decided to take it off, ripping a piece with which you would have wrapped your forearm, and throwing away the remaining pieces, leaving yourself in the sports bra.

Your legs and abdomen weren’t in a much better state, clothes ripped to pieces because of the explosion you’d created at the start of the fight, and you were thankful you couldn’t take a look at your back even if you wanted to, knowing it was probably reduced even worse than your front.

Not finding anyone near your position, you headed towards Mount Mushiro, were most of the students were located, along with the teachers and the curses.

You put one foot in front of the other, trying not to let your dizziness get the best of you, when pain shot in your left leg, as if you’d twisted it badly. Soon, you felt the same pain on your back and your left arm, falling to your knees as you gasped for air. It didn’t come from your cuts; it was different, like it came from the inside. You got a sense of deja-vu…Had you ever felt like this before? You were sure you had. All of a sudden, you remembered the mysterious pain you’d felt many times when you were younger.

As everything clicked into place, your conversation about soulmates with Satoru flashed in front of your eyes. You fought back the joyous tears that threatened to spill from your bruised eyes, a ray of hope appearing in your mind. Had you found your soulmate? If so, what did the pain mean? Was he okay? A sense of worry and anxiety washed over you, as you ran up the stairs of Mount Mushiro, heading to where loud battle noises came from, your heart beat increasing rapidly.

Not wasting any time, you bolted towards Gojo’s location, relieved at the vision of him beat up, but with the same smirk as ever. A huge dead curse’s body rotting behind his glorious figure.

Before coming out of the woods, a small voice in the back of your mind remembered you your scars were all exposed by then to anybody who looked in your way. What was he gonna think of you? Would he repel you for your looks? Would he hate you and be disgusted by you forever, not giving you a chance to prove your theory?

But then, you stopped listening. You stopped listening to the small devil that had haunted your past since you’d discovered your cursed technique, reminding you about how you didn’t fit in and weren’t liked by anyone.

You decided you were done giving in to your fears and letting them win over you: you only decided how you were going to live your life, and you sure as hell didn’t eat to hide your true self ever since, if you could.

Feeling free from the Cains you’d bound yourself to, you jolted towards an oblivious Satoru in a hug that sent you both flying on the ground.

“What the…?”

A confused look passed his face, soon followed by a mix of anger, worry and relief.

“What did you think you were doing? Running off alone to challenge a special grade? Are you freaking insane? You’re hurt! You shouldn’t…”

Sensing something was wrong, he halted in his words.

You were a complete wreck, full of blood and dirt, sobbing incessantly and body shaking feverishly, your hands gripping his suit like he was going to fly away any time, yet a sincere smile painting your features like a small kid who’s been gifted candy.

“Hey, hey. Shh, shhh. Don’t cry, it’s okay! I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re all fine!” He soothed you, caressing your bare back with his left hand, holding you tightly with the other hand, still sat on the ground.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” He asked in a patient, father-like tone.

You slowed down your sobs and trembling, sniffing every minute or so, your throat feeling dry and blocked.

Not enough brave to look at him in the eyes, you asked him: “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” He answered, lifting your chin up in order to look at you in the eyes.

Your side bang had moved behind your ear, revealing an ugly scar that ran across the left side of her face, from her eyebrow, along her eyelid, to her rosy cheek, wet with tears.

You had chosen that haircut specifically to hide that repulsing scar, yet, when he saw it, he didn’t flinch or appear disgusted. Rather than that, he looked…intrigued, almost happy to have seen a side of you you usually hid from others.

He’d also noticed how you didn’t have your hoodie or your gloves anymore, and he felt somehow relieved: you trusted him. Besides, to him, you’d never looked more attractive.

“Turn your infinity off.” It wasn’t meant to sound like an order, but to Gojo it seemed rather bossy, yet, confused, he complied nonetheless.

As you felt your skin touch, for the first time ever, a warm chill rand down your spine and a burnt feeling spread across your left hand’s ring finger, where a marking had appeared: ‘Satoru Gojo’.

He looked at his hand, finding the same marking as yours, but with your name written instead.

He stared at you lovingly, contemplating whether to kiss you or not.

He recounted the years spent searching for you, the pain he had felt and the loneliness that had graved on him until the day he’d met you, deciding to go for it.

You were both dirty and stinky, though it still somehow felt beautiful, more than you could’ve ever imagined.

It was slow and passionate, full of raw emotions that couldn’t be kept at bay anymore.

Finally, as you two detached, a new feeling washed over you, one you’d never felt before: love.

You’d finally found your soulmate, as he’d found you, and you knew you would both love each other to whatever end.

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. You're welcome to come check out my account and my other posts and/or make requests :) (MASTERLIST) Do NOT plagiarize this or any of my content.

Do you think I should make a part 2?

Love you guys! See you soon!😘

Written by crazycat010 © 2025 crazycat010

[theorphicangel]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

wc: 2.2k

tags: heian era!sukuna, true form! sukuna, reader is a villager and wears a kimono, gn!reader, mentions of cannibalism (brief), eventual fluff, strangers to lovers??, threat of death, reader has a sense of humor, reader risks life for a peach (real),

synopsis: stumbling in a random field, the gods have granted you the luxury of discovering a rare peach tree and it's all yours for the takings. at least that's what you're mistaken to think before you're confronted by the king of curses himself. coming close to death, you're forbidden to ever return.

it's just a shame you're incapable of listening to rules.

part one | part three | bonus scene

Part 2: Committing the sin

“...And I told him to stick his peaches where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“And then what?!”

“Well, he was so shocked that I spoke to him in that manner and his jaw fell wide open. Then I told him that I wasn’t scared of him and informed him that the tree was public property.”

“What did he say back?” Multiple sets of eyes peer into your face with eagerness and pure excitement. 

You pause for a moment –  for dramatic effect. With a deep breath, you speak again.

“He said, ‘do you not care for your life?’

“What did you say back?! What did you tell him?!” A dark haired child rose in front of you, his eyes wide. 

“I said I wouldn’t regret dying after tasting those appetizing peaches, so if he killed me right there and  then I would nonetheless be happy and satisfied.”

The children sit in a small circle around you, some expressing their glee aloud as their faces were filled with awe of your encounter with the king of curses.

“I squared up to him, unafraid to fight and he walked away first.” You let out a laugh. “His tail was between his legs like a dog,  I doubt he’ll ever come back to that tree!”

“Does he actually have a tail?” a child asked. 

“I thought he had 6 arms.” another child spoke, curiosity filling their tone. 

“I thought he had 9?!”

“No, there was no tail. The king of curses only has 4 arms and really ugly eyes.”

“How many?”

“Four!” You reply and you giggle as the children shudder. “All the better to see you with, I think. Very scary.”

One child says, “I don’t ever want to see him!”

“He’s a monster!” Another spoke. 

“Well, you won’t ever meet the monster if you all promise to obey your parents and not misbehave?”

They nod diligently, hanging onto your every word. One by one they disperse, breaking off into their own stories about the king of curses now based on the new information you had told. 

Among them, your eyes fell upon Miko. She stood alone, waiting for the others to drift away before speaking. You’ve known her to be the shyest girl in the village, with the other kids she doesn’t seem to speak or interact. You usually find her off on her own in the corner, playing on her own in a corner. 

Recently, you’ve taken her under your wing. Whilst her parents work away in the village, you made sure that not all of her hours are spent entirely alone. Interacting with her, you take her along with you on your errands or play along with her games. Even in your company she’s still a quiet kid but you don’t mind as long as she has someone to be with. 

She waits until the majority of children have gone, their conversation too loud to overhear her question. It slips out so quietly you almost think you’ve missed it but you manage to read her lips. 

“Can you get me one?” Miko looks down at her sandals, shy and timid.

You hum, wanting to know what she’s referring to. 

“A peach.” She speaks again, her small lips moving. Again her voice is quiet and her eyes are glued to the ground. “Could you get me one?”

Your heart yearns at the sight. You knew all too well that her family doesn’t have much. They barely manage to get the bare necessities monthly, so the simple act of indulging in the taste of a sweet ripe peach wouldn’t just be a luxury but equate to rich reward for her entire family and their hard work.

Crouching, you meet her eyes. 

“If you’re not scared of the king of curses could you do it?” She mumbles. “If you’re sure that he won’t come back.”

A small part of you hesitates, maybe your exaggeration went too far. The truth of the story weighs heavy in your gut and a part of you considers confessing your dishonesty. But just one glimpse into Miko’s warm coffee eyes and you melt again. You couldn’t break her heart and say no. It would kill you.  

Your gut churns as you mull over your answer. 

There was no part in your body capable of telling her ‘no’ so the corners of your lips flip up into a smile. 

“Of course, I can.”

/

The king of curses is away at battle. For the next two weeks to be presumed. 

Him and his army traveled past the village, heading down with their carts and horses. Obviously, you weren’t present and chose to  hide away to watch from afar. Even from a large distance you couldn’t help but feel his presence, his overwhelming aura seeping into every crevice of your skin.

But at least now you had your chance.

Just one week after his departure, you gained up the courage to return to the forbidden peach tree. You’d hope no one would be present at the estate, perhaps a few servants here and there, but you doubt they would commit to the long walk to the edge of the estate for a mere peach tree.

With a large basket in hand, you set out as early as you could, the sunrise warming up your cheeks. Rays of orange and red mix in the sky, the sunlight fixing its spot in the blue summer sky. 

You retrace your steps you had previously taken a few weeks prior, straying away from the original path. Again, the grass blades tickle at your ankles. Certain that the king of curses has disappeared, you take your time through the field watching as different species of birds fly over your head and how the bees keep obedient to their flowers, collecting their sweet nectar. 

Soon the shadow of the tree comes into view. 

At first glance it seems to be unchanged, however a new difference you picked up on is the range of new peaches available. With adrenaline running, you don’t hesitate to pluck the peaches, multiple at a time. In a span of five minutes your basket is already half full, emerging from your task. You start with the peaches which are easier to reach before dealing with the dreadful task of resorting to your tippy toes.

Before you know it, your eyes are caught once upon a scarlet red peach, perfectly ripe and round. Of course you have to get it, this one would be especially for Miko you think.

The only problem which rose was that the peach was located on the highest branch, straining, it was only a few inches away from your fingertips.

“Almost—” you strain, your tongue pokes out the side of your mouth.

“Seems like insolent fools never learn.”

A rough voice echoes into the distance at the exact moment that you manage to pluck a peach from the highest branch.  At the sound of a gruff tone,  a shiver runs up your body and the peach falls from your hand, dropping to the grass and rolling away.

Just as you felt previously, a menacing aura came over you, washing over your body like a heavy tide. Your temperature drops and your mind freezes, his ever so familiar aura now hitting you like a slap to the face. 

Of course, you turn to find the king of curses standing behind you. Tall and treacherous, you cower away, dropping to your knees.

He’s back. One week earlier than expected. 

Bowing your head, your mind runs over the brutal image of his appearance. Blood stains over his body and skin, dry of course and scars litter his chest, shirtless in front of you. 

“I thought I warned you to stay away, did I not?”

You clear your throat before speaking, your voice shakes. “You did, my lord.”

“So why did you not heed my warning? Do you wish death upon yourself?”

“No my lord, I-” you cut yourself off, searching for words which fail to leave your lips. Your hesitation and silence only seems to aggravate Sukuna.

“Speak.” He orders.

“I wanted to bring peaches back for the villagers.”

Sukuna doesn’t speak again. Trembling, you keep your eyes down onto the grass. He must be eyeing your basket right now.

You were definitely going to die. This was it. You had gotten away with it before and by the gods he was not going to let you leave alive again. 

The king of curses wouldn’t make that same mistake twice. 

Suddenly you find your chin in his palm and he forces you to look up at him. His eyes are cold and deadly. No ounce of human empathy or compassion lingers in his pupils. 

“You wanted to bring some peaches back for the villagers.”

You nod, a quiet whisper leaving your lips. “Yes.”

“Pathetic.” He spat.

From then on you expected to feel some form of pain. You have heard multiple stories about his brutal killings, simply decapitating limbs of people without a single care. Some people say it’s best to be killed right away by the King of Curses rather than his cruel method of allowing his victims to bleed out and die slowly.

Your body freezes to expect a pinch of pain, a stab, a slice – anything, anything at all yet it doesn’t seem to hit you. Tilting your head upwards ever so slightly you notice a wound on the right side of his torso. . Blood, freshly red, drips down his side, staining his skin and clothes. 

“You’re injured.” It comes out as a murmur, pathetic and weak. 

Sukuna says nothing more as if he hadn’t heard you in the first place. You bow your head deeper, almost ashamed for pointing it out. Perhaps it would come across that you intercepted the King of curses as weak. A king having a deep wound is something that he wouldn’t want others to know. 

But— you could still use it as some sort of excuse. 

“It’ll get infected.” You speak again, gaining more confidence in your tone. “If you don’t clean it up soon.”

“I have taken care of it.” Sukuna speaks. “It’s just a scratch.“

You let out a scoff. “Barely, you’re bleeding out heavily.” 

“What’s it to you? It has nothing to do with you.” He snaps, his tone rising. 

“I have a speciality in helping people with wounds and illnesses. I could help you.” You raise your head slightly at your offer. You outstretch your hand towards his blood drenched clothes. 

“I do not like to be touched, I will heal myself.” 

You glance up at the king of curses, studying his face. For the first time you sense a feeling of exhaustion within Sukuna’s eyes, heavy lidded and tired. The king of curses was on the verge of passing out.

“I could help you–”

“I don’t need help from a thief.”

“A thief!?”

“The tree is on my property is it not?”

“I–”

“And this is the second time you have been caught stealing, correct?”

“My lord—”

“Correct?” His tone is rough, cutting you off with a sharpness that causes goosebumps to appear on your body. 

You say nothing, looking down at your feet. You can feel his eyes bore into you. “Pathetic human.” He mumbles.

You swallow, saying nothing more. Your hands turn into fists by your side. Just from your expression and energy Sukuna  feels your growing anger with every second that passes.

All of a sudden, the band snaps and you can’t hold in your emotions anymore. The next time you speak, you refuse to cover up your venomous tone.  

“And you’re just as pathetic as me if you can barely heal your own wound. You call yourself the king of curses for what?”

A silence comes after your words, not even the sound of rustling trees or tall grass can be heard. It takes no longer than a second for you to feel deep regret for your words. Similar to your first ever encounter with the king of curses, the fear of death looms upon you. 

If you thought he wouldn’t kill you the first time then he definitely will now. 

You await the moment for him to strike you. A pinch of pain, a slice, a beheading or even a stab to your stomach. Anything to disperse you as soon as possible. 

Instead of a violent action, he chooses to speak again with a challenging invite.

“So how would you suggest you would heal me?”

Did you hear him right?

You stammer, words failing to leave your mouth. “To heal you?”

He stares at you in contempt, “You said you knew how to take care of wounds, do you not?”

“I do.” 

“So…?” Sukuna raises a brow.

Your mind searches for a solution, malfunctioning under his venomous gaze. 

There’s a stream nearby, I could guide you to it so you can clean it.”

A pause.

“Where is this stream you think of?”

“Over there.” You point behind him.

“So be it.” He speaks in a gruff tone. “Lead the way”

You manage to get your feet whilst succumbing to a daze.

How have you managed to escape the punishment of death a second time from the King of curses?

Glancing behind you, the basket of peaches tempts you. There would be no point in taking it and running, you knew that he could kill you in an instant. The plump peaches would have to wait, for now you have to focus on surviving Sukuna.

You leave the basket behind.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

lmk if you would like to be tagged for part three!

[ddarker-dreams]

what would make the husband rotation genuinely mad and would they act when theyre mad?? bad vibes for everyone

upsetting chrollo is an arduous endeavor.

he values control, whether it be over himself or others. creating the troupe would've been impossible if he was easily agitated. ironically, by muting his emotions for so long, he's set himself up for failure. when they do escape the fortress he built to contain them, they're wild. their repression drained any civility chrollo pretends to have.

regarding what it takes to get to this point... a third party revealing his criminal affiliations to you would do the trick. especially if the evidence they provide is irrefutable. chrollo isn't naïve, he's always been aware of the possibility. it'd be different if your efforts unmasked his identity. sure, he wouldn't be ecstatic, but he'd feel a hint of pride over your sleuthing capabilities. he almost considers it your right, in a weird way.

this sentiment doesn't extend to another's interference. they've inserted themselves into your relationship and warped your opinion of him. it's a violation, an intrusion. chrollo comes off as unusually detached when this information reaches him. he would've preferred you confront him, so he could control the narrative and do immediate damage control. with that plan dashed, his anger will simmer, until it can scald the one who tainted your perfectly fine relationship.

gojo satoru wants to be the center of your universe.

he's selfish, he isn't content with anything less than you in your entirety. he wants to be your partner, your best friend, your rival and confidant. he's cool with your friends and family (wow thanks gojo), since he knows that ultimately, you're both close in a way few can understand. shoko tells him at point blank that he's overdependent on you. he's aware, he just doesn't care to fix it. he's shameless enough to admit it as much without remorse.

for this reason, should someone capable of exerting influence over you stumble onto the scene, he would not be happy. megumi (kid or teen) remarks that he gets this 'creepy look', like he's pretending to be human. if he released a mere tendril of the cursed energy writhing inside him, it'd be enough to render most sorcerers comatose. his vibes become that abominable.

whether it be a former mentor, childhood friend, or some other role he can't fulfill for you himself — he wants to create as much distance between them and you as possible. fortunately for him, simply being himself is enough to repel most people. gojo inserts himself into your conversations until this person catches the hint. after knowing him for so long, you've grown immune to his questionable boundary crossing. he'll keep at it until they're scared off.

scaramouche gets angry with you for making him fall in love.

had his chest cavity not been empty, he would've clawed his heart out to avoid this harrowing feeling. the timidity, the vulnerability, oh, how he loathes it; loathes you for the spell you've placed him under! this resentment is, in truth, mostly directed at himself. shouldn't he have learned his lesson by now? how many times must he be chewed up and spit out before he stops wandering into the maw of emotional connection? he resolves himself to kill this... whatever it is you both share, before he's dragged through disappointment once again. he'll work himself up into a frenzy, all righteous anger and crackling bitterness—

—then your eyes light up at the sight of him, his name a warm exclamation on your tongue. in an instant, he's pacified, like he'd undergone a lobotomy. what a lovesick fool he is. you won't even let him fester in his negativity, you keep flitting about, earning his undivided attention. it's embarrassing how giddy he is around you (though he hides it beneath snark and condescension). when the interaction ends, he's left torn on what to do. all he knows is that he's running out of excuses to make this your fault.

blade's fury could slice through stars if you were ever hurt.

his mara is voracious until he returns every ounce of your pain tenfold. it's a scene from hell; rivers of blood, shredded limbs, piles of corpses tall enough to be mistaken for towers. in the heat of battle, he occasionally forgets where he is or why he's even doing this. then, all it takes is his mind's eye flashing the image of your face contorted in pain for his mania to blaze anew. you're precious. kind, warm, bestowing care upon him that he hadn't experienced in centuries. annihilation awaited anyone or anything that threatened you. he thinks death is too good for them, but it's the punishment he delivers best.

this explosive rage isn't finite. once his sword is deprived of living prey, he's forced to endure silence. entropy. an all-pervasive thought that you'd be better off with another. he never understood why you blessed him of all people with your affection. upon wiping his weapon clean, his reflection greets him. he scarcely looks human. drenched in viscera, eyes bloodshot and crazed. is this the man you love? what would you think, if you could see him now?

he almost wishes the fury would return. it's preferable to the hollowness he now faces.

[mekochansblog]

Missed me?

Five Hargreeves x reader

You were walking around the house, who’s house you didn’t know. It’s been a while since you’ve seen your husband. You don’t remember how you got here, but you do remember seeing a bright light the last time you closed your eyes. You remember waking up and you were surrounded with a beautiful house and an amazing view. Also two kids, whose kids? You got a clue that they were yours, since they did look like you and your husband. It felt like time didn’t move here. Everyday felt like a blessing to you. With your kids and doing things you couldn't, it was fun. You went towards the kitchen and started making lunch for you and your children when all out of sudden you heard a crash. You jumped in fright and ran towards the crash, you heard your kid screaming for you. You panicked more and ran faster. You skidded and almost crashed into a desk and panted and looked around in panic. Your oldest son Eugene looked at you with panic. His emerald eyes widening at the sight of two men fighting. You waved your hand at Eugene letting him know to not involve himself with whoever it was that was fighting. You somehow were able to seperate the two men. Once you did you saw their faces. Your eyes widened at the lanky man and a bulk man?

“Who are you guys?” you whisper.

 The men stopped fighting and looked at you. They looked at you confused. Not knowing why you were here when they haven’t met another person that also interacted. Eugene came from where he was hiding and put a protective hand around you. That’s when the two men saw Eugene. He resembled Five so much. Looked like him too.

“Five?” they said in synch.

Your eyebrows furrowed hearing your husband’s name. You turned to look at your son and realize why they said your husband’s name. You were about to correct them when the lanky man walked slowly towards Eugene.

“F…Five how did you…. Did dad kill you too?” He gasped out.

You blink your eyes multiple times at what he said. Hold up what? What is going on that he said that to your son. You stood in front of the lanky man and lightly pushed him away from your son.

“How did you..I.. I don’t know who you are but his name is Eugene Hargreeves…he’s my son….. His father is Five Hargreeves…” You murmur, scared that this person knew your husband.

The lanky person looks at you and then at Eugene, he does a double take and then lets out a breathy laugh clapping his hands. You looked at him like he was deranged not knowing what was happening. You looked at the other guy and he just smiled at you awkwardly. You give him a weak smile. The muscle man then lets you know where you are. You passed away, in the apocalypse in the arms of the man that had your heart. Your eyes blinked, you shook your head, your eyes started to tear up. You didn’t want to believe it. He was lying. You were alive and living. You were living with your two kids. Your 15 year old son and your 6 year old daughter. You covered your mouth to stop the sobs that were about to come out. Your knees buckled and your son held you before you actually fell down on the ground. 

It was a lie.

This life was a lie.

You were dead.

Your kids weren’t real.

This felt like a nightmare.

You finally let out a sob. You shook your head and with your head trembling you banged on the floor with your fists. Your son held you and grabbed your hands. You wanted to push him away but how could you. He was still your son whether it was real or not. You raised him. He was here in this world when you got here too. He was just an infant and you raised him. He was your son whether it was all a hallucination or not. You looked at the lanky man and with a trembling voice you asked.

“Who… who are you?” 

The lanky man looked at you and then looked at the big buff guy. They had a silent discussion with each other but then the buff guys looked at you and bent down to your height. He gave you a nervous smile and with one last look at the lanky man he put out a hand out for you to shake.

“My name is Luther and this here is Klaus we are… Well, Five is our brother.”

You stared at them. You knew trying to look for a resemblance was futile due to Five being adopted. You knew it was also useless asking them questions about your husband. Well unless they have been with him for the past who knows how many years you have been here, but it wouldn't hurt to ask still.

“How… How is he? Has he been eating? Taking care of himself? Did he save you guys from the apocalypse?” 

You fired out questions. You knew you needed answers. You wanted to know how your husband was after you passed away. Who knows how his mind worked when you passed away. Klaus looked at Luther and he let out a nervous laugh. Oh great he was doing a shit job at taking care of himself, you thought. You put a hand out to stop him before he told you how he was and quickly ran towards your room to change. You looked in your closet for some clothes that will be comfortable to fight and move around. You glanced at an eggshell white puffy shirt. It had ruffles on the neck and it was a shirt that was thin so you wouldn't get hot easily. You quickly grabbed it and put it on while you looked to see what bottoms would go with it. You saw a black skirt that went all the way to a bit past your knees. It was snuggled on the waist but became flare at the end. You held it up a bit to put on a knife holster and a gun one. You didn't know what would happen but you wanted to be safe. You then froze. What about your children?

What would happen to them if you decided to go with your brothers-in-law? Will they still exist? Will they disappear once you leave? That's it you can leave with them. You close your eyes and with a shaky sigh put on some knee high socks and small 3 inch heel boots. You let out a deep breath and headed to where your family was. Klaus glanced at you and blinked his eyes. You looked ready to murder. Maybe that's why Five was so in love with you. He did describe you as someone that was strong and skilled when they both went on that crazy adventure to find his mother. Luther stared at you and then gave you a nervous smile worried on his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to go in a skirt if we could take you?”

You looked at him up and down. 

“I could tear you apart if I wanted. Don't test my limits just because of a lousy skirt.”

You remarked. Luther blinked multiple times and just nodded his head slowly. Eugene came holding Evangeline and gave you a soft smile. Coming to hug you and give you a peck on the cheek. Your smile was watery while you hugged your kids tight. You gave each a kiss on the forehead how you used to do every time you put them to bed. 

“Los amo demasiado. Los volver�� a ver en el futuro. Okay take care of each other.”

You whimpered. Trying not to cry but a small tear fell. You then gave them another kiss and turned towards Klaus and Luther, but you only saw Luther standing them crying. You gave him a confused look and tried to look around hoping to see your other brother-in-law. When you got close to Luther you questioned him.

“Where’s Klaus?”

Luther looked at you and held your hand. You took one last glance at your kids and they waved at you while all you did was blow them a small kiss. Luther then let you know that Klaus can come back from the dead and was probably back with the family. You nodded your head and then started walking with him. Where? You don't know and don't ask, just let him guide you. He started asking questions about how life was here in the afterlife. You responded to the questions. You weren’t going to lie, you did love it here, it was peaceful, no apocalypse and you had your kids, but you did tell him you miss Five. After walking for a while you saw that Luther was flickering. You grew worried and panic started to settle into your body. You were scared he was leaving you. 

Out of nowhere he did dissapear. That's when you  full blown panic. You walked around not too far from where he disappeared. You screamed out his name, you started gasping and tried to catch your breath but nothing. Out of nowhere luther falls from the sky and falls with a big thump. You froze and just stared at him.

“Did they kill you again? Does your family not like you or what?”

You confusedly questioned him. All he did was groan and you hesitantly let out a hand to try to help him up. Which was a bad mistake due to him putting all his weight and making you fall also. He mumbled an apology and you just shook your head at him. You fidgeted with your fingers and looked at him expecting for him to tell you what happened. When he was about to tell you an elevator suddenly appeared out of nowhere. You both glanced at each other and held out his arm for you to hold. You gave him a small nod and held it. You both walked in and the elevator doors closed.

You both were blinded with a bright light, but it all faded when the doors opened. First Luther took cautious steps and he nodded his head for you to also take some steps out of the elevator. You took slow steps and looked around. You saw more people turn around and then that's when you saw him. Your husband.

“F…Five?”

Five turned around and his eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he just stared at you. His eyes got teary and his lips trembled, but he pursed his lips together in case he let out a sob. You slowly walked towards him and you blink fast but your face was already sticky from the silent tears that were slowly falling down your eyes. Five started to walk towards you until he was in front of you and he grabbed you so fast and held you. That's when you heard him break down. Your husband, the one person you know that will always put his walls up from everyone, was crying. Five was so relieved, he left like he hasn't seen you since forever, when in reality it's been around 2 months. He breathed in your smell and he let out a teary laugh. He touched you everywhere hoping he wasn't dreaming. 

“You.. i.. I can… where… you..”

He sobbed. He couldn't let out a sentence without being a blubbering mess. You smiled fondly and held his cheek.

“Shh, shh i know i'm here. I miss you so much amor.”

You quietly cried out. He let out another teary laugh this one with so much emotion. His siblings stared at his brother and the woman. The person he was showing so much affection and love towards. Klaus smiled tearily and pulled al his siblings aside. Five looked at you and finally gave you a meaningful and loving kiss. One you found yourself lost in.

“Thats Five’s wife.”

He mumbled quietly to not disturbed the sweet and long moment he knew his brother deserved.

 This is what you needed.

 Your husband. 

The love of your life.

 Your soulmate. 

Five finally kissed you and you sighed in bliss. You finally were in your husband arms again. 

[sunarots]

taste ━━━ suna rintarou & miya osamu

20. milking a dead cow ♡

cw. x1 snide comment about y/n’s appearance by rubi

For the third time tonight, Rubi makes a snide comment about dating Suna in an attempt to get you to bitch with her. She waits to see if you respond, quickly laughing and lightly hitting his arm. Through her laughs, she says, "I'm kidding!" and taking a sip of her drink. She excuses herself and rises from her seat with her phone gripped tightly in her hands.

You lean back in your seat and let out a heavy sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm just going to say it, boys. This night sucks ass harder than Atsumu." You look between them, catching both agreeing.

"Not that I don't like being in the company of my 'crazy ex', but I'm so close to stabbing myself in the eye with my fork," Suna announces, picking up his fork for emphasis. He taps the bottom against the table and looks towards the toilets to make sure she's gone. "I don't know what her deal is tonight."

You don't mean for your amusement to show on your face, grabbing your glass to try and hide it before Suna sees you.

Osamu clears his throat. "She's uh... She's okay."

"She said we should do this again, 'Samu. If I do this again, I'll kill myself," Suna snaps, dropping his fork and leaning back in his chair.

"You're not exactly fun for me to be around, either." You roll your eyes at him, finishing off your drink. "But I do agree. I may have to do it, Osamu. Tell Kiyoko I miss her. And don't let Kuroo take over my position as manager."

Osamu laughs, resting a hand on your thigh. "Look, we're almost done. No dessert, just the bill. It's Thursday, so there's definitely a party we can crash. Otherwise, we drink at mine until we're paralytic."

"As nice as a party sounds, I just want my bed. I do want more booze, though. Can you flag down the waiter for another round? Maybe shots?"

Nodding his head, Osamu waves at one of the waiters and apologises. "Can we get another round and six shots of Sambuca?"

Simultaneously, you and Suna burst out, "Not Sambuca."

Osamu frowns, apologising once again and correcting himself to vodka. When the waiter leaves, he turns to face you. "Why not Sambuca?"

"Have you not seen y/n after Sambuca? She once almost killed Atsumu for standing on her foot." Suna has to stop himself from laughing at the memory.

"That was you!?" Osamu exclaims, laughing hysterically. "I hear about it but no one knew who it was! I thought it was Sakusa, honestly."

"You know, a lot of people said that." You nod slowly in thought before shrugging your shoulders. "Anyway, no Sambuca if there's a chance of someone getting on my nerves."

"So, never?" Osamu flashes you a smile before laughing, settling back in his seat. "So, Rin, how do you feel about nationals?"

"Pretty good. I'm excited to see how far we go. I need to start going to the gym again, though. Rubi likes to come with me but I hate going with her. How do you feel?"

Osamu shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah, I have high hopes. At least I know I'll be starting since I'm sleeping with the manager."

You return his smile and face him. "If you want to start, you don't need to sleep with me. You need to keep practicing." You shrug your shoulders, smiling as the waiter sets a tray of shots down on the table. "Oh, perfect." You waist no time in grabbing them and taking your first shot, setting it back on the tray. You take the second before either of them have their first, looking between them in disappointment. "Have you never taken shots before?"

"You inhaled those," Osamu scolds, taking his first one. "Give us a chance."

"If you take much longer I'll have them as well." You finish whats left in your glass as the waiter approaches again, taking the tray of empty glasses and shot glasses away.

Rubi appears from behind him, slipping back into her seat. "Ugh, those toilets are disgusting. Why did he have shot glasses?" She flattens her hair against her chest as she watches him walk away.

"They were from another table, he was just collecting our empties." Suna taps on the side of Rubi's fresh cocktail to bring it to her attention. "Should we get the bill and finish these drinks?"

Rubi pouts, looking over her shoulder. "I wanted a dessert menu. I want to try that cheesecake you liked."

"If I eat anything else, I may be sick," you announce, trying to stop her from getting the menus — you will not get stuck here for another hour. The food is good, but it takes too long for your liking when you're stuck on a date like this.

"You don't have to get anything. Besides, probably for the best. Your uniform isn't very flattering." Rubi spots a waiter, frantically waving her hand at him to bring him over,

Your jaw clenches at her statement, turning to Osamu with a fake smile plastered across your face. Without saying anything, you sigh and lean back in your seat.

Before Rubi can talk to the waiter, Suna rests a hand on her shoulder and blocked her from his view. "Can we get the bill? I'm feeling a bit queasy. Not because of the food. Just... Diarrhoea."

A heavy silence falls over the table, Rubi turning her nose up in disgust. She settles into her seat and picks up her phone with the same grimace in place.

You have to press your lips together tight to keep your laughter inside, your hand flying out to grip Osamu's thigh. He returns the action, his fingers digging into you like you're his lifeline. The waiter backs away slowly, watching Suna carefully as though he may shit himself on the spot.

Rubi turns to face Suna again, dropping her phone down on the table. "Can you not act normal for one fucking date? God, trying to do anything with you is like... It's like milking a dead cow!"

"This isn't exactly what I wanted for date night. This reservation was made for two: us. No offence, Osamu. Kind of offence, y/n." He holds up a hand towards you, not catching your dismissive shrug. "Hanging out with an ex never sounds fun. For anyone."

"Don't think of her as a ex, think of her as your best friend's girlfriend," Rubi justifies. "Look, Rin, if you don't start reciprocating my needs, we're over."

Osamu leans in towards you as they continue bickering and whispers, "It's so joever."

# fun fact !

after y/n fought him, atsumu was telling everyone it was some random drunk guy on the street and he did more damage to him

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when your ex starts dating your least favourite person on campus, your ex-best friend from high school, you can’t help but feel a little betrayed. you quickly realise a way to get back at him: his best friend.

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[mehiwilldoitlater]

"YUÁN FÈN!!!"  The icy wind that passed through the pagoda was too strong. That would explain why your monkey couldn't hear you. Maybe he was too concentrated on beating the hell out of those guais that were guarding that prison.  What you know is that after you have been separated from him, you finally found him.

You needed some time to get on his own level, and even there you had to reach him. You kept on calling him, trying to get his attention.

Why he didn't hear you?! He acted so strange!

"Yuán fèn!! WAIT for me! Please!"

Finally you spotted him, and he seemed to have acknowledged your presence, turning around. 

"Oh goodness! I thought the worst when you fell in the lake! Are you okay? Something had-"

You felt the air Swift when his staff almost struck you. You jumped away while he prepared another blow from it.

"Yuán fèn! What are you doing?! Are you crazy?!"

You noticed his eyes, glowing red. His fangs were full on show, like a beast, his tail moving just like when he was ready to attack an enemy. Something was clearly wrong with him, and now he seemed interested in using his staff against you.

You started to dodge his it as best as you could, retreating from him.

"Yuán fèn! It's me, y/n! Can't you recognize me?!"

He couldn't hear you, hypnotized by an invisible voice that told him to just hurt and kill.

"Yuán fèn, please!" You felt the wind on your back; the edge of the cliff was so near, and so were his murderous intents. You covered your head in fear, trying to protect yourself from the damages.

"I'M SCARED!"

Something moved in his head. It felt like he received a full blow in his stomach. When he realized what was happening, he wanted to throw himself in front of Cliff.

His staff rose to the occasion, ready to strike against your trembling and scared figure. He suddenly felt his blood in his veins, throwing away his weapon, scared and horrified.

"No no...no no no no no please no!"

He retreated, squishing himself on the Rocky Wall of the prison, holding his head in his hands. What was he doing?! He almost... bo, please let this be a nightmare!

You opened your arms; the blow didn't come. What you saw was your friend curled up on himself, like a scared kid during a storm. You stod up, taking a few attemptive steps towards him.

"Yuán fèn? Yuán fèn, are you?"

He looked at you; you were too close to him! He could still hurt you!

"STAY BACK!" He screamed "Stay away! I'm... I'm dangerous! I can't be trusted! I was... I could have... please stay back!"

You heard his voice cracking, his shoulders trembling, his tail coiling around himself.

He was crying. He was scared.

He wanted to disappear; instead, he felt your arms, warm and gentle, around him. Your hand was caressing his head, passing through his hair, your warm breath near his cheek.

"Yuán fèn, it's all right. I could never be scared of you."

He couldn't handle it; his arms suddenly closed on you. He needed to feel your warmth, your chest moving, knowing that you were there and that you were all right. 

"Please! Forgive me! This... this place... is messing with my head! I don't... I don't know what was happening to me! I just wanted to hurt and kill! But not you! Never you!"

"I know, Yuán fèn..." You kept on talking, letting him cry on your shoulder, allowing him to let go of the fear and the confusion. "Your the kindest soul I ever met. I know you would never hurt me. I trust you."

Time passed, his grip over you slowly faded, and so were his hiccups and sobs. When you knew you could move him, you gently looked at him in his eyes, red and tired from all the tears that he had shed.

"It's this place. It's messing with both of us. We must leave. Can you move for me?"

He slowly nodded, his throat hoarse from the cry. His legs trembled when he stod up. You gave him his staff to help him walk. You held his hands tight, letting him know you were there while you led him to the higher level of the pagoda.

He had never kept you in despair; this time it was your turn to be strong for both of you.

((We don't talk about how emotional the third chapter is. Also a small thing that I could use in the future. I'm cooking something, my dudes.))

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