#just kidding. its childs play to these bastards

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME!"

Vodou or Voodoo!reader x platonic Yandere batfam

You haven't gotten out of bed in days, lying there rotting away like a bone. Your amulet, once vibrant purple, is now dusty and dark. Your bedroom is cold, and your altar is neglected; the candles are out. You haven’t put food there, fixed the tablecloth, or done anything. You haven’t prayed or performed a ceremonial dance. You've never been this depressed, this sad, or this angry; you're in despair. Ever since arriving at the mansion, you've felt your life and soul being sucked out, which is strange—you were so lively before. You feel dead, yet you can hear the chatter and laughter downstairs seeping through your thick walls. Usually, you drown it out, but today you listen. You can feel their smiles, their joy, their anger—everything, yet you're not present.

“Why don’t you go down there?” a spirit says, its ghostly hand caressing your shoulder.

“They don’t want me there; you know that already,” you say, your voice cracks. Of course it did; you were crying for hours, maybe even longer, but better not count. “Don’t be like that; they’re your family.”

You scoff at what the spirit says. You want to slap its hand away, but you obviously can't touch it; you can't even feel it, just the cold air that caresses your dark skin.

“I’ll only ruin it,” you say, hovering overhead, letting your despair consume you. If you continue like this, how will you become a great Priestess? Your altar has no gifts, no offerings. You haven’t fixed your hair in days; you haven’t sent us anything, and we love your voice. “Please, my child,” the spirit pleads, “you do not want to go down there. At least do something.”

You don’t answer again. You curl up into a ball. The spirit sighs. “As you wish, young Priestess,” and they disappear into purple smoke. But all you can think about, deep in your head, is that it just isn’t fair. You’re a nice kid; you’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re honest, you’re polite—the nicest of them all. Even if there was a niceness contest, you’d come out on top, leaving everybody in your wake. But your father seems to favor the ones who are cruel, mean, and rude. Your younger brother, Damian—a little devil, held you at swordpoint, threatened to kill you, called you a bastard, and you’re supposed to forgive him with open arms? What kind of idiot does Bruce take you for?

And your older brother, who prides himself on family, barely even knows you—the sucker might have to look up your middle name, maybe even your birthday, on some celebrity website. He’s always spending time with the little devil; you have no clue why. You’re way more fun to hang out with than him. But who cares? And your second eldest brother is rude, scary, and he smells like pure death, as if he crawled out of his grave, clutching dirt from the ground beneath him. It makes sense—his eyes are naturally green, just like Damian's, but he’s alive. It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe Papa Legba, but him cross without knowing.

And the brother who is the same age as you, Timothy, makes you snore when you hear his name. He’s intellectual, so smart, and yet so stupid, so dumb, and so hypocritical. He’ll find everything and anything to correct you on, even if you’re right, just to ensure that you’re slightly off the mark. The brother you thought you would have an unbreakable bond with is so tight he cut off blood circulation; yet, this bond is flimsier than a piece of string. He’s always talking with Cass, and you're never invited. You have more in common than they think, but to them, you’re just another bastard of Bruce Wayne—Cass, Steph, and Babs are your sisters. You’re supposed to gossip, talk about boys, play hand games, and hold each other, but they are only close with each other and not you.

I mean, trios were never meant to be broken; who even wants a quartet? You pray to Bondye every night. You expel all the darkness within your amulet, and your wishes are always the same each night: “Please, Supreme Lord, let them greet me with open arms; let them see me as their kin; let them love me; let them notice me.” But each night, you are met with nothing but silence. Bondye is quiet, and so are the loa. They always talked to you, but whenever you beg for this family to see you, they can never answer; they can never give advice. At first, you thought it was a test—a series of trials you had to go through to prove that you were worthy of their love. So whenever you were met with hostility, it was like the sharp end of a blade. You opened your arms to them; the trials got harder, and it started to become impossible.

Maybe I have to go in a different direction; maybe meet force with force. But then you get scolded. Maybe you just don’t fight back, but if you don’t, then you will be forgotten. So what next? How do you pass this test, these everlasting trials? You have no clue, no idea, and in fact, you feel lost, and you start to lose faith. Maybe you were just not meant to be loved; you weren’t meant for affection, you weren’t meant to be held, dear. So you let that bitterness and anger swallow you whole as you wallow in your own sorrow and self-pity. This young High Priestess is filled with hurt.

[narcjsistx]

— YOUNG TO BE DESTROYED, OLD TO BE SAVED

ও kaiser michael x fem!reader

ও 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

ও warnings: small age gap between characters (reader 16 and kaiser 17) ; mention of domestic abuse ; mention of attempted suicide ; mention of teen pregnancy ; mention of burns caused by a fire ; mention of a sex scene. nothing is described in detail, but if you think you can't read it don't worry :) stay safe!!. the kaiser at the beginning of the story is the same as the one at the first meeting with ness, without tattoos, the story will also follow them as adults after

Sixteen is not the right age to start stealing to survive. If you have to steal to live, it is better to start when you are young, so that you never know the feeling of having a warm house with food always on the table. Starting at sixteen means overturning all the principles that until a minute before had been the pillars of your life, rules that your parents had taught you since your first breath. Stealing is wrong, but dying of hunger is more wrong. You don't have much choice when your parents refuse to look you in the face. Berlin has always been cold, since you were born you never felt the heat of the sun on your skin for more than a few hours. You love Germany but hate the city you live in, which you never had the chance to escape. The last time you tried it got you into this shitty situation you're in now, with the misery all around you

You look up, the light from the distant field lamps faintly illuminating the messy place that has been your new home for weeks now. The sound of the whistle echoes in your ears, as if the soccer field were just a few meters away from you and not at least one kilometer away. You hear the screams of the players, the curses, the laughter, everything that comes out of their mouths as if you were there with them and not lying on a mattress recovered from a bin. You observe their blurry silhouettes, the balls that whizz through the air, all as a silent spectator. They don't know you've been watching them for days, ever since you found this shelter while wandering. It would be weird to know that someone you don't know has been watching you for so long, watching your movements, the way you train and joke with your teammates. Hell, it would be scary for you too to know that they're staring at you from afar. But watching them is the only human contact, if you can call it that, you have with civilization. It seems like the whole world has turned its back on you, but you're not completely homeless. You are, yes. But you get a shower every day thanks to the same players who leave the locker room door open

You've learned some of the names of the players, at least the ones who are most often praised or accused. You still can't tell the difference from their tone of voice. The most called is a certain Grimm, who does nothing but make assists that then take him to the net without a striker who can score. Another who is called often is a certain Alexis, who however seems more useful than the other. You didn't know the rules of soccer, but since you camped here you're suddenly an expert

Your father had shown you some soccer games when you were younger. He didn't like sports, but watching his national team play in anything important was a kind of pride for him, even though he had been beaten up as a child by some kids who were now part of the team. He told this story with a pride that often made you doubt his sanity. When moments like that happened, the house became even quieter than it already was, with you crushed on the couch between the bodies of your parents. The smell of cigars filled the air and the only acceptable noise was that of the television. You didn't enjoy watching the games, but as long as you had the opportunity to go to bed an hour and a half later than usual, you were fine with it. It was kinda a transgression, but you were proud of it

Your father was not a big fan of Bastard Munchen, one of the most exclusive sports clubs in the entire country, if not the most important. Yet for days now you found yourself staring at them, the club's players and their cannon shots on net. This too was a transgression, probably the second most important in your entire life after the suicide mission that was supposed to lead you to run away from home. More than once you had approached the campus, going past the fences less than two meters high. The locker rooms were attached to the fields, you didn't have to go over the fence to enter and use the showers, but curiosity had pushed you to wander a bit through the team's territories. The dormitories were south of the field, the cafeteria connected to them and you counted at least ten fields from the bit you had managed to explore, when no one was around or the team was away for some match. Security was not doing its job as it should have done to protect future German prodigies, and so sneaking into the camp to steal something from the mess bins was quite easy

You didn't go every day, that would have been too dangerous, but every time you went you made sure to take at least a week's worth of supplies. Sometimes the food ran out early, sometimes you didn't get past the fence for two weeks. But now, with your stomach empty for two days, you think it's time to go. You should have done it a few days ago, but due to some stomach pains you couldn't. This had delayed the arrival of the new food and consequently you were on an empty stomach. You have to wait for their workout to finish and maybe go after dinner time, hoping to find something that can ease the pain. They usually never eat much, lucky for you

You wait for the right moment before starting to walk, a ruined sweatshirt that protects you from the cold of the night. You go beyond the fence and hide in the half-light that the dumpsters give you, waiting patiently for the time when you know the maids will throw out the garbage bags. You hear the voices of the women and the players through the open windows, and the familiarity with which everyone seems to be in the canteen environment doesn't particularly affect you. You've never had the chance to experience something like this, a normal dinner with your parents or the simple pleasure of staying home to rest, so you don't know this feeling that was so described in the books you were forced to read. It should be reassuring, but the only reassuring thing you've ever had in your life was a caress years ago that a woman at the supermarket gave you, mistaking you for her niece, who was accidentally next to you

It's cold, but the sweatshirt seems to warm you a little as you rest your chin on your knees, warming your hands with the little warm breath you manage to create. Your stomach is hurting like hell, but the hope of being able to put something under your teeth pushes you to resist, even if the maids are delaying their usual time to put out the garbage bags. You haven't known what time it is for several weeks now, but it's probably well past midnight already and the garbage bags are not yet in the drawers, while you feel like dying. You tremble, trying to make as little noise as possible, because you know that if they discovered you they would call the police. The police have never helped you, and they wouldn't if they found out you were doing something like this. The only solution is to wait and hope you don't die here tonight, even if under current conditions it would be possible. It will probably happen, sooner or later, but you want to hope that later is as far away as possible. You're still too young to go away like this

As you close your eyes, you hear the sound of metal doors slamming. You hear the chatter of women throwing out garbage bags, filling the dumpsters that slam into your face. Blood starts to drip from your nose, but that's not the main problem when the smell of burning meat finally reaches your nostrils. You struggle to wait for the women to come back inside, but as soon as they disappear behind the door, you rush to the dirty bags to open it as if it contained the most beautiful Christmas present in the world. You voraciously start throwing pieces of meat into your mouth, also taking some tomatoes and some yogurt sauce that is stuck to some bitten bread. From the emotion small tears form at the edge of your eyes, but you can't help but let them out as you fill your stomach after days of panic. This is the first time this has happened to you since you became homeless, but it feels so good to finally have a full stomach again

"A dog? A stray dog?"

You freeze when you hear a male voice outside the dumpster. The food gets stuck in your throat, while your agitation starts pumping through your veins again. You tremble uncontrollably, almost unconsciously, as you turn your head towards the presumed voice. There is definitely someone here, and it is a man. You hear footsteps approaching the dumpster you are locked in, and in a last ditch attempt to save your skin you hide under the bags, at the bottom of the metal container. The stench burns your lungs, but you hold your breath while you trying to move as less as possible. If they catch you now, it's over. This is definitely trespassing, and it's punishable by jail time. In prison they would kill you for your weakness, or probably use your body only for personal purposes. Both options would kill you anyway, and you still have so many things to do before you leave this world

A hand slips through the garbage, feeling the bags covering your stomach. You hold your breath, even when the hand accidentally lands on your breast, squeezing it. You feel the hand disappear above the surface, then grab the bags that cover you. You remain paralyzed when not even a bag has the possibility of covering you, thus marking the end of your hiding scene. You no longer feel air in your lungs due to the anxiety of having been discovered, and you look up where the dumpster has its opening: a pale face, vaguely illuminated by the street lamps, appears in front of your vision. You notice a young man, with blond hair and a light red eyeliner, with eyes too blue to be human. Some of his long, messy hair falls onto your face, pinching your face, which is stained with something wet from the garbage. His eyes are a little surprised when he notices you, but he doesn't seem that surprised either. He raises an eyebrow, grabbing his hair and putting it behind his shoulders "What the fuck are you doing here?"

You don't know how to respond, the words that don't want to come out of your mouth and create a remotely convincing excuse. You stammer something, but that only seems to annoy him, as he looks at you questioningly "Are you a woman? I assume... oh. I touched your breasts, earlier. While you were hiding" he says maybe a little guilty, but you wouldn't be able to tell from his confident tone of voice "I thought you were a damn stray dog. Even though it smells the same" he says chuckling, but you don't share his irony while you're still figuring out if he'll call the police or not. He seems to notice your silence, taking your arm to at least make you sit up "I was joking, don't take it personally. Not that I care about your perfume, I don't know you" he says shrugging. He then seems to remember something "Get out of the way. I have to check if they threw away something I need" he says, pushing you aside, picking up a bag and placing it on the floor, disappearing from your view. His attention shifts completely to the object, as he opens it and throws out the waste, swearing something under his breath in a thick Berlin accent

You get down on your knees, resting your hands on the edge of the dumpster as you watch him, still scared "You… you’re not going to call the police?" you ask, stammering, but he huffs, not even turning around "I don’t care. You can just walk away" he says throwing the garbage around him, but suddenly he turns, looking at you in the face "Indeed. Come here, if you don't want me to call it. You have to help me find something" he says smiling victoriously, and you stand up, following his order. He seems satisfied when he sees you at his side "You have to look for the drawing of a blue rose with thorns along the arm. Like... a tattoo sketch" he says looking, and you remain a little perplexed, but you nod. In the middle of the night you start looking for this sketch, an almost holy silence that holds between you. You search without asking questions, without attracting more attention than you already have. You drop your conditions to help this stranger who seems to be able to give you freedom, if you help him. With shaking hands you search for at least ten minutes, until you turn around noticing that he hasn't been searching for a while now, more interested in studying you "How young are you?" he asks bluntly. You press your lips together, moving your gaze back to the envelope, still searching for "Sixteen" you say a little uneasily, but he nods "I'm seventeen" he says confidently

You think the conversation is over, but less than ten minutes later, you feel his eyes burning on you again "Why were you here? I won’t call the police. But answer me" he asks, and you feel a little uncomfortable answering without sounding like a criminal. You think about it a bit before telling the truth, lying to him would make him angry and he might change his mind "I needed food. Opening the bags and eating the scraps was the only option" you say a little embarrassed by your own words, but your words don't seem to surprise him "I understand"

After almost half an hour of searching, a small ketchup-stained piece of paper pops out of the mass. You grab the sketch, handing it to him "Is this?" you ask uncertainly, and he smiles at it "It's this" he says taking it, looking at it proudly. You stand up from the ground as he seems too happy to pay attention to you. You clasp your hands behind your back, looking down. Thanking him would be better, showing respect is always appreciated "Thank you... thank you for not calling the police. I will never come back here again" you say promising something completely false. He looks up, getting back on his feet. Only now do you notice the difference in height between you. He nods, chuckling to himself "At least make promises you know you can keep" he says, but you have already run away behind the fence

Running back to your shelter, you can't help but think that luck has saved you. If he had called the police, you would probably be in a cell in any police station by now, awaiting legal proceedings. Yet you found someone whose only interest was himself and his desperate need to find that drawing. It was probably a staff member or a player, but you're not sure about either possibility. It's enough to know that for tonight you're still alive and with a full stomach. You have taken less food though, which you will probably finish earlier than expected due to your stomach pain. Your return there will be much closer than you want, but as long as you live you're happy. You curl up on the mattress, still chewing a piece of bread. You fall asleep sooner than expected, still thinking about today's luck. When you wake up you notice with regret that it snowed during the night, and that your sweatshirt is completely wet because of the loose flakes on your body

You stand up from your hiding place, looking out at the distant campus now completely covered in snow. You're cold, but your sweatshirt was the only long-sleeved thing you had left. You go back to the hideout, taking off your now completely soaked sweatshirt, remaining in your bra. You light a small fire with some paper, closing the exit of the hideout with the mattress turned over. You pull your legs to your chest to save heat, but the shivers don't seem to go away even as you're about to fall asleep again. The last thing you see before you fall asleep is the calm flame of the fire in front of you. The first thing you see when you wake up is the shelter completely in flames. You wake up because of too much heat on your body, especially concentrated along your left leg, finding yourself surrounded by flames. You regain alertness almost immediately, looking around for an escape route while your heart risks coming out of your rib cage, and the only option seems to be the exit which however is still partially blocked by the burning mattress. You tremble looking for a solution, and the only option seems to be to move the mattress with your bare hands. You take a generous dose of snow that you put on your hands before grabbing the edges of the object to move it

The pain of the flames immediately reaches your hands. You scream in despair, feeling your whole body burning, but you don't let go. You try to move the mattress and only succeed after a few attempts, not daring to look at your hands that you can no longer feel because of the pain. When you finally move the mattress you fall to the ground, onto the cold snow. The cold hits your bare, burned skin, causing a sensation you would compare to the hell your mother said she feared. If this isn't dying, you don't know what is. With your knees planted in the snow you look down just to take a look at the state of your hands, but you are disgusted to see only burned and bloody skin. Looking down you also notice a large burn on your left leg, the same one where the heat was concentrated. You try to calm yourself down with deep sighs, but all you really do is scream at the top of your lungs in pain. You cry as you look at the burns, barely walking away from the shelter that is now completely destroyed. The cold is killing you as is the pain, giving you a headache so bad that you pass out a few meters away from the fence of the Bastard Munchen campus

The last thing you see, blurry, before passing out, are the soccer players training on a nearby field. You're afraid of dying, either from the cold or the pain. Maybe yesterday's luck was just a last favor. Maybe dying young is the only solution, if the pain will stop. You breathe loudly, but your eyes close

The first thing you see when you wake up is snow. You move slightly, brushing away the snow that has fallen on you. You don't know how much time has passed, if even a day, but the sun is setting. You sit up, your head is pounding and a bad general discomfort throughout your body, but the pain has disappeared in all places except those where there are burns. You look at your hands and leg, where scabs now cover the skin: you shiver at the sight of them, but you are alive. Your body is completely frozen and you're still in your bra and pants, but you're alive. You try to stand up, but you fall almost immediately; you try again until you can stand up with some difficulty, but strong enough to walk a few meters. You look at the nearby fence, and turn towards the shelter: now only a pile of black ash covers that area. You almost want to cry, but you're so dehydrated that you don't even have any body water to use. You look around, seeing how the showers aren't that far away: you walk towards them and when you notice that no one is inside, you close the door behind you heavily. You let yourself fall along the metal of the door, feeling the heat of the showers, probably recently used, finally warm you up

You find yourself sitting on the floor, your body warm and your burns a little painful from the sudden heat. You shiver as you stand up, walking towards the showers to turn them on and drink, even though you don't know if your hands still work. You limp to the shower hallway, but are frozen when you find the same blond boy at the end. He turns instinctively when you let out a gasp, and you look into each other's eyes: he seems surprised to see you here, while you're just scared to see him. You remain silent, and only then you realize that he is naked except for a towel covering his lower waist. He seems to notice your eyes moving, but it doesn't seem to bother him "Aren't you cold like this?" he asks casually, but you shiver as you don't know whether to go out and run away or stay here. He raises an eyebrow at your silence, taking a few steps forward while you take a few steps back. Your back hits the wall, and his fingers find their way to your chin, grabbing it to look up at you. You close your eyes, opening them only when you don't notice any annoying hands on your body: you find only his blue eyes staring at you, studying you

"You smell like something's burning" he says, looking you up and down, then focusing on your hands, which he grabs. He deliberately presses his fingers against the scabs, making you scream in pain. He does it again, and you notice a small smile on his face "You have a low pain threshold. You wouldn't resist a tattoo under your eyes" he says proudly, and from your teary eyes you can tell that the red eyeliner he has is actually a tattoo. He chuckles at your confusion, letting go of your hands but not moving away from you "You’re here again, you know it’s forbidden to enter a sports campus? Or did you want help?" he asks, smirking. You avoid his gaze, stammering something "I know it’s forbidden… but… I…" you say, confused, but he shakes his head "It’s okay. I like stray dogs" he says reassuringly, and even though the comparison he just made between you and such dirty animals bothers you, you remain silent. Your silence seems to amuse him, to the point of patting you on the head "Do you want something? I can give it to you, I won't call the police. If you want to take a shower, go ahead, I'll wait here" he says walking away, sitting on the bench in the locker room. You look at him a little perplexed, but you run towards the showers and lock yourself in one, turning on the water. As you wash yourself quickly you hear him humming, and this makes you a little nervous "Are you sure... are you sure you won't call the police?" you ask, rubbing soap on the scabs, which make you grimace in pain "I don't feel like it. I don't particularly like cops" he says, and you breathe a sigh of relief "You don't even like them, do you?" he asks, and you sigh "No..." you say while washing yourself, and your answer amuses him "We have already found something in common between us" he says, and you remain silent again

"I left you a shirt behind the shower door" the boy says, and after drying yourself off, you put on your bra, your panties from before, and the shirt that turns out to be your team's. It's big on you, and when the boy pops up near the showers to look at you, he nods in satisfaction "It's a little long, but I think it's better than the way you were before. You're hungry, too, I guess. And those nasty burns need some dressing" he says, looking at you, and you don't know how to reply "Wait here" he says, leaving the locker room before putting on a sweatshirt. You hadn't noticed him, but he seems to have dressed while you were cleaning yourself. You haven't looked at him much, but he seems to have a very trained and toned physique for a simple member of the staff, he's definitely a player. You could run away now that you're finally alone again, but this undue kindness from a stranger is making you soft. He probably doesn't want to bother you, otherwise he would have done it already. But you're not used to kindness, especially if you haven't done anything for him, besides helping one time

He returns shortly after, with a container with meat and a bottle of disinfectant. He bends over next to you, while you have sat on the floor near the sinks. He passes you the container, which you open with difficulty because of the burns, while he soaks some bath paper with disinfectant. You bite the meat, and let him take your hand that he soaks with the liquid "Shit!" you scream in pain, but he doesn't stop, almost making you cry. He continues for a while before wrapping your hand with bandages, doing the same thing for the other hand and leg "It should ease the pain a little. I don't know honestly, but they do that with the injuries we inflict on ourselves on the field" he says resting his head against his palm, and you look up from your meal just to stare at him for a few seconds "Thank you" you whisper, but he shakes his head "This time a thank you is not enough. I want to know your name" he says, and you answer even though you don't want to "My name is Y/n. Can I know yours?" you say, and he smirks "Michael. Kaiser Michael" he says putting his palm in front of you, but you look at him and a small smile forms on your lips. He seems to understand that because of the burns you can't shake his hand, but it doesn't seem to bother him "My mistake" he says, and you chuckle "Don't worry"

The two of you sit in silence, next to each other. You look at your bandaged hands and wonder why he’s been so nice to you. His blonde hair hides his face from your view, so you can’t see if he’s thoughtful or calm, but you assume he’s okay with not talking. He turns his head slightly toward you, tilting his head "Do you have a home?" he asks "No" you answer without regret, and he looks even more amused "So you’re homeless. Why did you run away? Didn’t mom and dad give you enough sugar?" he asks, laughing, but you look down, remaining silent "I touched a sore spot. Nice" he says, but you turn away "It's not a sore point. I... I just don't want to talk about it" you say shakily, and he nods "Okay, stray dog" he says, but you glare at him "I don't like that nickname" you say pouting, but he shrugs "I like it. Make up one that bothers me, so it's fair on both sides" he says, and even though he doesn't want to stop calling you that, you're interested in how to resolve it "Umh... dog... Berlin dog" you say, but he bursts out laughing "Calling me a 'Berlin dog' when my favorite animals are dogs and I'm from Berlin is not a very smart move on your part" he says, and you prick up your ears "Are you originally from here too?" you ask, and he nods "Since birth" he says, and you seem more interested in the discussion "Which area?" you ask but his mood changes slightly, less funny "I don't remember. I haven't been home in a long time, I'm basically always on campus" he says, but you look at him puzzled "You don't remember the area where you lived for years? I have to call you 'stupid dog', then" you say, and his mood seems to return "I can accept this" he says, again amused. Things seem a little less awkward now that you’ve finally joked around and talked a bit. Michael stands up, offering you a hand "Do you want to sleep here for the night or do you have a shelter to go back to?" he asks, and only now do you remember what happened to your shelter. You purse your lips, standing up on your own "Umh… if it’s okay I can sleep here" you say, and he nods "Don’t worry, the campus is completely player-controlled after 10pm. We can bring whoever we want into the rooms" he says, and you look at him in surprise "You didn’t mean here in the locker room?" you ask, and he seems amused by your stupidity "Of course not. If you have to stay, at least use the comfort services. I don’t know how long you’ve been homeless, but I bet you miss sleeping in a warm bed" he says

You haven't slept in a real bed in far too long, and if he gives you the assurance that the surveillance won't tell you anything, you can accept it. You nod, taking a step forward "Okay... thanks" you say, and he leaves the locker room as he begins to walk towards the dorms. The two of you remain silent, until he reaches the entrance "You still haven't told me how you got those burns" he asks, and you cross your arms "Fire" you say, and he seems to accept it. You enter the dorms, where you can hear people chatting and laughing through the doors, much like they do during the training sessions you've been watching so much. You enter his room, where you find a boy sitting on one of the two beds in the room "Oi, Ness. We have guests" the boy says closing the door behind him, letting you in. A boy with brown and magenta hair looks up from his book, watching you curiously but not with a perverse look "Hello. Do you know her?" he asks straight to Kaiser, and he nods "Kinda. She'll be sleeping here tonight" he says disappearing into the kitchen of the room, returning with a pair of round glasses that he puts on "This is Alexis Ness. He is my roommate and teammate. Don't worry about him, he's a good guy as long as you don't insult me in front of his eyes" he says, and even though Kaiser's description reduces the boy to a loyal dog, he doesn't seem to mind too much "My pleasure" he says, and you shake your hand with a nervous smile. You realize now that Alexis is a name you've heard before, and that makes you curious "You both play for the Bastard?" you ask, and Kaiser sits on his bed "On the pre-adult team, at least until we both turn 18. But yeah" he says, and this makes you curious "Which roles?" you ask, and Ness rubs the back of his neck "He's a striker, I'm his midfielder" he says, and you nod "Cool"

A few hours later, with another meal in your stomach and a generous helping of water, it’s time to go to sleep. You’re left in Kaiser’s shirt, and he signals you to lie down next to him. Normally you’d refuse, but you have plenty of reasons to accept: you’re sleepy, you miss having a bed to sleep in, Michael is kind, and you really don’t have the right to refuse. You take a few steps forward, lying down next to him with your body pressed against his, while Ness is already asleep in his bed. You both remain silent, but you know he isn't sleeping even though his eyes are closed "Weren't you sleepy until just now?" you whisper, and he opens one eye "I can say the same thing about you. I'm not sleeping because I'm used to having more space in my bed" you say, and you look at the ceiling "I can go sleep in the showers or on the floor, you know" you say, but he shakes his head "It wouldn't be polite of me to let a young lady sleep on a dirty floor" you say, and you stifle a laugh "Young lady?" you ask, and he nods "You're one year younger than me" he says, and you realize it's true "Oh, I told you the first time we met" you say, and he nods "When you looked for the sketch in the garbage" he says, and you think about it "But why do you need that drawing, in the end?" you ask curiously, and he smiles "That's the next tattoo I want to get. When I turn eighteen... the first one I got was done illegally. I want the two roses on my neck, the thorns along my arm and the crown on my hand" he says, and you're shocked "That would be really cool. But why do you want to do that, any particular reason?" you ask, and he smirks "I've known you too little time to tell you. Become my trusted slave first and I'll think about it later" you say, and you giggle "Really funny, hope so Micheal. But at least, can I know when you'll be eighteen?"

"Christmas day" he says, and you choke on your own spit. Kaiser looks at you puzzled, making you sit down on the warm mattress "Does Christmas disgust you that much?" he asks ironically, but you shake your head "I was born on December 25th too" you say, and this time it's you who sees him completely surprised, even his frown is replaced by a little smile "This is unexpected. Another thing that unites us, then"

You spend the rest of the night joking around, trying not to wake Ness: he tells you about the team, about his role as a striker, about how he's been living in the Bastard Munchen dorms for at least a year, and you tell him about your burning hideout. Before you know it, it's dawn. You stay in bed, while Kaiser gets up to go to the bathroom, Ness who has just woken up. You watch the two boys in silence, watching them wander around their small apartment undisturbed, as if you were not there and could not see their bare and toned chests as they put on their sports uniforms for their morning workout. This is also a transgression, your parents would go against everything you have done in the last 24 hours. But for the first time ever, you are having fun with someone who is actually quite simple. With Ness already gone to breakfast and Kaiser still in the room, the boy approaches his bed, sitting on the edge "You can sleep, we don't have room service unfortunately for us. If you're hungry eat, make yourself at home. I should be back by lunchtime" he says, and you nod with half your face covered by the blanket. He chuckles at the scene, walking out of the room and leaving you completely alone. You spend the morning sleeping, eating a bad brand yogurt and watching the boys team up out the window: Kaiser stands out among the members, with his fast movements always followed by Ness. He scored without showing too much effort, demonstrating a resistance to the duration of the training that honestly surprised you for such a young boy

At lunch time the door opens, and Ness comes in leaving you a tray full of food "Kaiser couldn't come. I hope you like our canteen" the boy says, and you can't help but show your disappointment at the lack of the blond boy. You take the food and eat alone, staying like that until dinner time when the door opens again, this time with Kaiser carrying the tray. You get up from the boy's bed, walking towards him "You said you'd be back at lunch time!" you say taking the tray, but he sighs amused "My mistake, miss. I had to check something. Let's have dinner together, shall we?" he says, taking a bowl of soup. You don't ask yourself many questions, taking the soup and starting to eat. Kaiser tells you about his workout, as if you hadn't been watching him from the window of the room all day. He dresses your wounds again and gives you a taste of a dessert that the campus cafeteria gave to the players this morning, after the breakfast. Before Ness goes back to the shared room, you're both back in bed, almost asleep

For the next month, you find yourself spending your days like this. You rarely leave your room, walking the dorm hallways late at night with Kaiser. You’ve occasionally come out of the fence, but you don’t like walking near the pile of ash that the fire has destroyed. You try to stay as far away from the black on the snow, which even after weeks has not disappeared. Your stomach hurts when you think about it, but the uneasy feeling goes away when Kaiser is next to you. Some players have noticed your presence on campus, but no one dares to tell the directors: Michael said that you are a childhood friend of his, and that you only occasionally sleep in his room. You don't think that the other players want to talk behind his back, once he happened to tell you about how he beat up one of them when he first arrived at Bastard Munchen for a relatively stupid reason. You spend your evenings in bed with him, playing board games, reading Ness's books, or watching the TV he had installed in the kitchen just for you. He tells you about amazing things like special training sessions, the times he took planes, or what it's like in foreign countries like England, Italy, and France. He tells you so many interesting things that you almost feel guilty for being able to tell him only about your strange experiences as a homeless person. You haven't told him about your past, about who you were before you were a tramp, just as he hasn't told you anything about Michael Kaiser before Bastard Munchen called him. You never talk about topics from the past just because you don't want to run the risk of having to talk about them: it's a limit that you've put on yourselves without telling each other, a barrier that still can't be overcome even after all this time of synchronicity. You're not big fans of physical contact, you see how he often reject even Ness's high fives. But when you're alone in the room, in silence, his arms almost spontaneously find space around your waist, while you're lying on the bed with his face in the crook of your neck. Without speaking to him you stroke his hair, and you feel at peace with the whole world but above all in perfect connection with the boy who apparently saved you from humiliation. Often you don't need words to communicate, often you just need to look into each other's eyes and read the soft and real meaning you mean

Despite being locked up most of your time inside four walls, you have never felt freer than this: free to eat what you want, to talk to whoever you want, to hug whoever you want, to be faithful to whoever you want. In sixteen years, you have never had so many possibilities. Now that you have it, for the first time you feel like a normal teenager and not an idealized perfect model who tried to kill herself. You're grateful your parents kicked you out of their house if it resulted in you meeting your savior, that in less than a month he will finally be able to get the tattoo he so desires. While you wait, you try to be as faithful to him as possible: you eat the food that only he brings you, you wear only his shirts, you keep your hair loose just because he once mentioned that he thought you looked good with your hair like that. They are small gestures that want to show him how much you owe him, even if you can't repay him properly. But you will, one day, you absolutely will

It's Christmas Eve when you hear Kaiser knocking on the door. You run to open it, noticing the tray full of chicken soup "It's so much" you say, letting him in, and he nods, placing the tray on the coffee table between the two beds. You go to his side, first grabbing some spoons from the kitchen "Ness? Dinner with the players?" you ask, and he nods "He'll probably be back after midnight. He said he wanted to go to some kinda party they're throwing in the main room. Usual shit" he says, starting to eat, but you tilt your head "You're not going?" you ask, and he turns around, raising an eyebrow "Why should I?" he asks questioningly, and you put your elbows on the table, stirring the soup "You're part of the team, you should. It's a party" you say, even if you never had a concrete definition of a youth party, accustomed to elegant balls "You're here, why should I go?" he says, and for the first time, his words have an effect on you. You smile like an idiot, choking on your soup. Kaiser grabs a handkerchief, rolling his eyes in amusement as he wipes your mouth "You’re acting like a dog. You’re going back to your old ways, like a stray dog again" he says teasing you, and you take the handkerchief to clean yourself "I'm not a stray dog. Not anymore" you say defending yourself, but he snorts amused "You're not anymore, I know. Thanks to me. I tamed you"

The handkerchief remains against your mouth, but his words seem to enter your head like missiles. Involuntarily, you let yourself go into the care of another person as soon as you had the chance to do so. Even if by running away, or trying, you had promised yourself not to do it again, now the situation is as before. Kaiser is kind, though. Kaiser does not force you to drink your own saliva when you spit out the bitterness of the poison. Kaiser does not force you to remain with a bloody face for days just because the blood makes them happy. Kaiser doesn't make you sleep naked when it's cold just because you talked back to your mother. Is it really that bad to be tamed by your savior, in this case?

"You don’t like soup?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you snap back to reality. You shake your head, pushing the handkerchief aside and smiling sheepishly at him "No, no. It’s good. I was just thinking about… have you booked your tattoo appointment yet?" you ask, making up an excuse, and he seems to believe it "Tomorrow morning. I had to pay triple the price to book an appointment on Christmas Day, but I know it’s worth it" he says proudly, and you agree with him "It definitely will be. You'll finally have what you want" you say, placing your face in the palm of your hand, but he shakes his head "Just a part. The rest I want I can't get yet, but that will come too. Also, I added a small modification to the tattoo, but nothing too big" he says, and you connect his words to his desire to be the best striker in the world "Really?" you ask, and he nods "Exactly. But it's so small that I don't want you to see it, I'll show it to you directly tomorrow" you say, and you nod

A few hours later you find yourself on his bed, his arms around your waist tighter than usual and his face more hidden in the crook of your neck. You caress him trying to stay awake to wish him a happy birthday, even though you know it's yours too. But he's your savior, and it's the first one you've spent together, in each other's arms. You can ignore yourself for this year. Before the alarm can ring, you're already squeezing his hand. "Happy birthday, Michael" you whisper, and he looks up only to meet your eyes. He smiles tiredly, resting his face on your chest"Thank you. You too, Y/n" he says, and you almost get emotional in front of his enormous kindness of having even remembered the right date. You smile at him kissing his forehead, but only afterwards do you realize that you went a bit too far. You pull your head back embarrassed, but he tilts his, probably amused and tired from the little nap he had taken on you "If only this was your gift, I'm totally fine with it. But I would have preferred the kiss lower down" he says in a low voice, and it gives you the shivers. You press your lips together not knowing how to respond, but he seems to want to tease you a bit "I have to give you the gift, mh?" he says

Involuntarily or perhaps not, your eyes fall on his lips as his on yours. The caresses become slower and the grip on your waist more possessive. His face slowly approaches, and this time you don't take steps back like your second meeting in the locker room, this time you are the one closing the distance, letting your plump lips end up on his. You both remain still for the first few seconds, but he is the first to reply, pushing them more voraciously towards yours. Instinctively you tighten your arms around his neck, enjoying the sensation of a kiss you have always dreamed of but never received. It is your savior who gives it to you, that's why it tastes so sweet. Kaiser gets on top of you, kissing the edges of your lips, and when you pull away you can't help but laugh both of you. This time it wasn't words that were needed between you, but gestures, and you like this new way of communicating, if it makes you so happy. Michael just leans down to rest his forehead against yours, and you both close your eyes "Give me one more year, just hold on one more year. After that we could be anything you want" he whispers against your lips, and you nod, you would do it even if they were insults if they came from his mouth. He kisses, you kiss him, this all night until your lips hurt. When you fall asleep, a trickle of saliva still connects you, but the trickle and his body are not there when you wake up

Ness wakes you up and shakes you, while you are still in the world of dreams "Get in the closet, run. The directors are checking the rooms, some players brought drugs into the party last night... some went to the hospital" says the boy lifting you up, and before you can even reply, you are locked in the closet. Waking up you realize the gravity of the situation, and a hole in your stomach starts to eat you slowly, understanding that if they find you it's over. Kaiser wasn't next to you, is he still on campus or has he already gone to get his tattoo? You need him, you're dying of anxiety and he's the only one who can defend himself in case the directors find out about you. You need the kisses he gave you last night again, the reassuring way he made you feel even if you weren't anxious. You need your Michael. You think this, but you hear Ness opening the door and the footsteps of at least three people in the room. You hug your legs to your chest, holding your breath as you watch them wander around the room through the crack, checking their clothes or the kitchen. You don't see Ness, you don't know if they've thrown him out for inspection. You try to think clearly, but when the closet door reveals your hidden figure, the world falls apart

"And you? I don't think the team has any female players. Miss, I kindly ask you to follow us" a man says, grabbing your arm and throwing you out of the closet, making you fall to the floor where all the other directors are watching. As you are dragged out of the room you hear Ness talking to the directors, but they tell him to go back to his room or risk having his contract annulled. Like a humiliated puppet, the directors drag you to the main office of the campus, dragging you as if you were unable to walk independently. You cry silently without realizing it, but this does not stop them from locking you in the room with them, starting to write a report of the discovery "Miss, your name? Where do you live? Why were you in the room? Do you have any contact with Alexis Ness or Michael Kaiser? Do you know it is illegal?" they ask, but you, sitting on the plastic chair, cannot even compose a complete sentence, trembling and with a probable attack of mutism. You look around confused, biting your nails in nervousness. This doesn't seem to stop them from asking you more questions, but after what seems like an eternity but was probably less than an hour and a half, the door is opened by someone else

You turn around, and Kaiser appears in the room. He closes the door behind him, walking straight to the director’s desk, slamming his hands on the wood "Is that a fucking way to treat a young lady, dragging her across the campus without even giving her a chance to explain?" Michael barks, and you look at him like he’s given you a drink after walking across the Sahara. The director swallows a lump of saliva, avoiding the direct gaze "She had a chance to sp-" he excuses himself, but Kaiser slams his fist on the wood "Are you kidding me? The players made videos of her being dragged" he says, continuing "If they make videos of you doing something like that, you'll be prosecuted right away. I'll make up some other bullshit to defend her and you will end up in prison" he says, and the director looks up "Are you kidding? Why would you?" he asks anxiously, and he laughs "Because then you'd lose me too, and your fortune with the campus. And that chance of us having Noel Noa train us? Nuh nuh, no way" he says, and the director clenched his fingers into fists "I... I won't do anything to her. But she has to get off the campus, it's against the rules" he says, but he shakes his head "If she gets off campus, I'll get off with her. But off the team. I'm going to ReAl" he says, and the director stands up "Don't you dare threaten me, Kaiser!" he shouts, but Micheal remains calm "I didn't say anything too absurd. It's your decision" he says crossing his arms

In your eyes now Kaiser is like water: necessary, destructive, perfect. He lets himself go without fear of breaking something, and he's doing it for you, for the same girl he kissed last night as if his life depended on it. The freshly inked tattoo flexes against his skin stiff from punching the desk, but that only gives it an even more suggestive look of perfectionThe blue roses, the thorns, the crown: finally everything he ever wanted is engraved on his body. It's damn beautiful, he is. You are proud to be faithful to him and only him, to be tamed by this very human being

"She can stay, she can do it, damn it, okay?" he says, reaching the limit, and Kaiser raises an eyebrow "And?" he asks, and the director glares at him, but lowers his gaze "And have dinner, lunch, do whatever she wants" he says exhausted, and he nods. He nods at you, the first since he came in, and takes your hand as he leads you out of the room. You don’t talk along the corridor, but in the open air you stop. Kaiser turns, not letting go of your hand "Does something hurt?" he asks, and you shake your head "Why did you do that?" you ask through tight lips. It’s cold, your breath condenses as it leaves your lips. Kaiser looks at you surprised by your question, taking a few steps back "Why wouldn’t I have done that?" he asks, and you want to answer him but you can’t find the right words. He remains silent, and only when he notices that you’re not angry, he comes closer, closing you in a hug. His hands rest on your waist, while you press your face against his chest "I want you to stay with me. I want you by my side, at least until you turn 18 and I can buy you an apartment of your own. I want you here" he whispers to you, and you feel the blood rushing through your veins again. You let out a loud sigh, looking up. "I want it too. But I don’t want you to have to change something in your life just for me" you say, and he chuckles at your words "But I’m okay with it. I’m okay with it if I do it for you" he says cupping your face, placing a light kiss on your lips "This is the last one. I want to give you the next one as a present for your eighteenth birthday" he says, and you frown, saddened by his statement but okay "Also" he says, moving away from you and lifting the sleeve of his shirt to better show the part of the tattoo with the thorns "I didn't show you the tattoo or the modification. But you can look for it" he says, bringing his arm closer to your face. Questioningly you take his arm in your hands, examining the complicated tangle of thorns that now surround his arm. On the thorns, in a point parallel to his heart, you find a small writing. You take a few steps back, looking up at him who is already looking at you smiling "Happy birthday" he whispers to you, sweetly

In a handwriting similar to yours, the name 'Y/n' stands out among the thorns. You open your mouth in shock, not believing it "You can’t really have done that" you stammer insecurely, but he runs a finger over the tattoo "It’s permanent. It’s there and it’ll never come off"

"Stop doing things for me when I can't repay you" you say with tears in your eyes, still emotional. He shakes his head, taking your hands and kissing your knuckles "Repay me by continuing to be just the way you are. Devoted" he says, and you can swear that right now you feel in love with him. In love with Michael Kaiser. In love with your savior, your God, your only rock. It's not just pleasure, it's love and only love

Almost two months after that Christmas, you find yourself sitting on the benches of the soccer field for practice. Kaiser chases the ball, his hair now also blue that flutters in the cold wind of mid february. It is a change in his appearance that he has made recently, and yet you have already gotten used to the idea of this new haircut that Ness made under your and Michael's advice. It sets him apart, more than it already did before, even just his charisma. You read a philosophy book that Kaiser lent you, but you're not that interested. You look up from the pages only when you see him approaching: you lower the canteen to him, and he sits down next to you, drinking greedily. He puts the empty canteen on the grass, wiping the light sweat from his forehead with a towel "Do you have anything else to do?" he asks, and you look at him puzzled "No? Do you need something?" you ask, closing the book

Kaiser looks around, but you've been alone for hours now. He looks at you for a bit, before looking down "Have I ever told you about myself before the Bastard?" he asks, and you stiffen, shaking your head and realizing that it's finally that moment "I was different, I was born different and still am. But now I don't have to deal with my father anymore" he says, and you move closer. Kaiser looks up, he takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers "My mother is an actress, I think. I never really wanted to understand it actually. She worked with my father when she wasn't famous yet, she got pregnant and right after giving birth to me she realized she could be someone if she left me to that lout of a father of mine. She was my father's muse, a director famous only thanks to her. He went crazy when he found out she was gone, maybe I was still too young to remember the slaps and punches he probably gave me. So I never went to school, staying in the criminal area of Berlin. I stole to support the family, maybe I learned to steal even before I learned my name... but that didn't stop the slaps. My father always thought that I was the problem of his breakup with my mother, the reason for his failure. He never changed his mind as I grew up, getting used to making me almost a dead corpse every chance he got. But then I met soccer... I bought a ball, I gave myself a gift for the first time. I held that ball as if my life depended on it, as if it was the only thing that made sense to me. I got pretty good at it without knowing a single damn rule of the sport, but then I got caught in a theft. The police arrested me for something other kids in the neighborhood had done, but I rebelled so much that they took me straight to jail without a legal trial. I thought about killing myself for a few days, I won't deny it. I was fourteen or fifteen years old... but someone saved me. A very powerful man in soccer found out about my story, paid to have me thrown out of prison and entrusted me to the care of Bastard Munchen. I had to go through a selection, there I met Ness for the first time, but from that moment the real part of my life began" says Kaiser, and every word sticks in your mind as if it were sacred. You try to stay strong, but it hurts to think of all the pain he had to endure just because he was born, just because his mother decided to run away and not take her responsibility. You squeeze his hand, letting yourself go against his shoulder "Thanks for telling me. I know how much you hate being pitied… but you already know that no matter what, I’m here for you, even if it’s something huge. I want to be as kind to you as you’ve been to me from the very beginning" you say, and his arm tightens around your shoulders "I know. Thanks. Just saying... only you and Ness know about this" he says, and you nod "I understand"

You’ve never seen him so vulnerable, so Michael and not Kaiser. You think about him as a child, about everything that happened, about everything he thought during prison. It’s something so intimate that he only told you and Ness, which means he wouldn’t judge you if you told him about your past. You’re a little unsure, but you try to relax your muscles "Do you want to… do you want to hear about my past?" you ask, and he takes a moment to you can nod "I'd like that" he says, and you take a long preparatory sigh. He's the first person you've ever told about your life before, when you were still someone

"I am the daughter of my mother's betrayal, I don't know who my real father is. The man who raised me never particularly loved me, but he gave me a more than dignified life... it's complicated to explain. Since my mother fucked another man, he did everything to become the man she loved again, giving her and me everything that could be called rich. But the extra work stressed him, and the constant arguments led them to hit each other... and when I was old enough, their slaps also reached me. They introduced me to the upper class of Berlin at a young age, making me frequent circles where I didn't really belong, like private schools or classical ballet classes... I never liked this stuff, but the first time I disobeyed them, I found myself drinking rat poison for days, without food. Following their rules to perfection meant I would get slapped less, but I swear, I just couldn't do it... the looks of others... the whispers... they terrified me. I was afraid of everything and everyone, and at fourteen I thought about committing suicide"

Your hands are shaking, it's a sensitive subject for you. But you want to talk about it, if he's listening to you

"I just thought that I had no reason to live if I was suffering even just to breathe. One night I gave myself an almost lethal dose of antidepressant drugs, my mother's, and I waited to die. But it didn't work, they admitted me to hospital but I was still alive. When I came home a month later, my parents locked me in the house for almost a year, making me self study so as not to give me the chance to be influenced by negative thoughts... they always thought that my attempted suicide had been caused by others. One night I took some clothes and ran away from home, I wanted to leave Berlin and take the first train to Belgium, but they discovered me at the station. They told me that they didn't want me at home anymore, and that they had already disinherited me. From there, my being homeless began" you tell trying to avoid some painful parts, but then you realize there is no point in not telling 'em "Also... I almost died once. They beat me so bad that I went into a coma, but only for a few days. They justified everything to the police by saying that I had pushed myself too hard in dance and the stress had done this to me. The police ignored the bruises on my body" you say with a shaking voice, remembering how you had burst into tears in front of the police but to no avail, still forced to live in your golden prison

The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, probably processing each other's stories. The cold wind corrodes your skin, but you feel warm at the same time: it is a warm sensation that comes from knowing the truth about the past of the boy who saved you. Of all of them, he chose you, not another person. You have never been chosen by anyone, and yet he had no problem telling you such an important part of himself, so intimate, so vulnerable. You try to shake Kaiser's hand, and when he notices, he returns the squeeze, kissing your knuckles. You smile at him, and his arm spontaneously finds space around your shoulders: he pulls you close, leaving a kiss in your hair before getting up to go back to training. From afar, now, Micheal seems to shine even more than before. If you were devoted to him before, now you know you are dependent on him. You don't want change all this

A year later, you are in exactly the same situation. The days on campus are going by peacefully, you have started to earn some money by cleaning the cafeteria, even though Kaiser has always insisted on not letting you lift a finger. Since he came of age he has started to earn a much higher salary, which gives him the possibility of having lots of money: as vain as he is, his money often ends up in clothes for you or makeup, or in any case in things to give you. He has told you several times that he has no problem spoiling you, if you continue to be as in love as you have been for a long time now. The money often ends up in an extra ticket when the games are abroad, and for the first time you have taken a plane and left Germany: you were not afraid of flying, even less of talking to the people you met in the new country, in Italy. You were finally able to see him play seriously and cheer for him, and the result of your screams was a kiss in the locker room at the end of the game, with a cup won and the shortness of breath for his hungry lips on yours. You had the chance to spend time together on your days off from the foreign match, days that you spent on each other's lips, even though he said that your next kiss would be on your birthday. At the end of the soccer season he spent more money to take you on holiday to Spain, where you had the chance to swim in the sea thanks to him. It's always thanks to his affection for you that you've had so many opportunities in such a short time that you're surprised that you were his choice, you who are mediocrity personified compared to someone as fantastic as him. He loved you, he spoiled you, he gave you the love you had sought but never received. He knew how to make you feel good when you didn't even know how to feel, when your thoughts became too big. He had saved you and continued to do so every day, and you weren't afraid to admit it: you showed it with your loyalty, with your sweetness, with your dedication towards him. It was the least you could do before you found a way to pay him back in full

Dedicating yourself like this to someone was dangerous, you knew it perfectly well: you knew you had changed a lot from who you were before the fire, losing traits of your personality that you had previously thought were unique. But he had lost himself to find you, to help you, to give you a life. Losing yourself couldn't have been such a bad decision, if he had done it for you too. You didn't worry that he might get tired of you, you wouldn't have allowed it, you would have stayed by his side forever, as he wanted, he would never have chased you away. You didn't risk your life when you sacrificed yourself for him, it was all due. You were happy and that was enough for you, you just needed to know that Kaiser was there

"The room is huge" you say looking around, putting your bags on the floor. You walk towards the walls made of glass, which show the great city of Munich. Kaiser nods, sitting on the edge of the bed "Yeah. If you like it, it's money well spent" he says, and you roll your eyes, moving closer "You shouldn't have. I would have liked to stay in the dorm room too" you say positioning yourself between his open legs, and he smirks at you, pulling you close to him putting his arms around the lower part of your waist. He rests his face against your stomach, looking up "It's an important date, in a few hours you'll be an adult" he says, and you huff "It's no big deal. There was no need to organize all this" you say caressing his face, and he rests his face against your palm "Let me spoil my beautiful girl" he says in a low voice that makes you shiver, making your knees weak and your mind stupid

It was Christmas Eve, in less than an hour it would be midnight, and that meant both of your birthdays. Kaiser had surprised you this afternoon with a flight to Munich just for the two of you, in one of the most luxurious hotels in the city, with a reservation for a whole week. The flight lasted a few hours, and now that you are in the hotel it is almost time to celebrate your birthday. In fact, you would have officially become an adult, far from your parents and close to the boy who considers you his girlfriend, even if in fact you have never talked about what your relationship is really like. You love each other and kiss each other, you consider each other's partner, and you are both jealous as hell of the other. But neither of you has ever talked about making the relationship concrete, about putting a point and calling it 'dating' and no longer something random. It's something you've wanted to do for a long time, but you don't want to push Michael into it. When he thinks is good talking about it, you'll do it too. Waiting is the only choice

You look at the clock, noticing that while you were putting your clothes away in the closets, the minutes separating you from the age of majority have now become five. You turn to Kaiser who is lying on the bed, climb on the bed and crawl towards him, catching his attention "Impatient to become an adult?" he asks massaging your back, and you giggle sitting on his stretched legs "Not too much. I'm curious to see you nineteen, what will be different from the normal Kaiser?" you ask, and he snorts amusedly "I think absolutely nothing. Maybe just a few more bucks spent on condoms, what do you think?" he asks, and you are surprised "OH" you say embarrassed, imagining things you shouldn't be imagining. He seems to notice your behavior, and it amuses him "Did I overdo it? I thought you'd thought about it. But I can wait" he says, massaging your thigh, and you glare at him, your cheeks still red "I thought about it... but... god, this is embarrassing" you stammer embarrassedly covering your face, but leaving his hand on your thigh. Before he can reply, his phone rings: you both turn towards the object, and you automatically move off of Kaiser, who stands up "Give me just a second" he says, taking the phone. You sit on the soft hotel mattress, watching him walk towards the glass door of the room

He answers the call, putting the phone to his ear. You see him listening to someone's words for a while, until a smirk appears on his face, as if he is finally satisfied. He lowers his face, as if some sort of shadow is covering his eyes. You tilt your head to listen better, but the only thing you hear coming out of his lips is "Get on your goddamn knees, Blue Lock". You remain confused, but the ringing of your alarm makes you understand that it is midnight: it is your birthday and his. Normally you never bother him during his calls, but this time you get out of bed, walking towards him on tiptoe: arriving at his side you hug his waist, standing on tiptoe to reach his neck, where you leave him a light kiss "Happy birthday, Micheal" you whisper, making him look down at you. He smirks at you, pulling the phone away from his ear before ending the call. He wraps an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead as he pulls you close "Happy birthday. You’re an adult too now, liebe" he whispers to you, and you nod, pushing yourself against him "Impossible to believe, right?" you ask, ironically, but he kisses your lips, holding your face with his tattooed hand

You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, smiling "Was this the famous kiss you said you’d give me when I turned eighteen?" you ask between the pauses between kisses, and he nods, not stopping "I want to give you so much more than this. I want to show you how important and amazing you really are to me" he says kissing you again, and you feel a slight need in his words, in the way his hands hold your hips as if he were afraid of making you run away. You respond to his kisses trying to keep up, but the more time passes the more your knees become weak from the passion with which he is torturing your lips and your neck, where there are already some hickeys. A slight knot forms in your stomach, and involuntarily little moans escape your lips that make Kaiser stop "Can I?" he whispers to you, and at the same time his hands end up on your thighs, picking you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting his face end up on your breasts, giving you the chance to look at him from an angle that makes him so damn handsome. A stupid smile forms on your lips, as you lean closer to his ear, a little awkwardly "Do what you think is best" you whisper, and that's enough to make him start his long torture. You end up with your back against the mattress, him on top of you with a visible desire to ruin you, with a face that makes you dumb. Before you know it you're naked with him, wrapped in his arms as a new sensation is created between your thighs. Kisses turn into hickeys, his hands on your hips in signs of love and his back full of scratches as he starts moving inside you. When you are already destroyed, you finally feel a feeling of satisfaction in your stomach, as if a weight has gone away. Kaiser ends up at your side, wrapping his arms around your waist, a peaceful feeling on his face "You were gorgeous. You always are" he whispers to you, and you can swear that the tear that just fell is one of pure happiness, pure love for him

A week later, sitting on a flight back to Berlin, you find yourself thinking about what happened during the vacation: beyond the nights of sex, the walks through the city and the dinners in the nicest restaurants in the neighborhood, you involuntarily ignored one thing: the call from the night before. At the time you didn't think about it, but now thinking about it it sounds a little suspicious, even if Kaiser has never actually hidden anything from you: for some unknown reason, however, you think you should ask more. You can't explain the feeling you have, but you prefer to eliminate it in the moment

"Hey" you whisper, and he looks up from his book "Liebe? Tell me?" he asks, and you swallow a lump of saliva "Listen... do you remember the call you received the night before the Eve? I was wondering... who was?" you ask, and imperceptibly you notice Kaiser annoyed "Nobody important, team related matters" he answers you, and you nod, even if the answer doesn't satisfy you. You spend the rest of the trip in silence, and when you get off the plane, Kaiser doesn't take your hand. It makes you sad, and you think it's your fault that he's rightfully angry with you now, you didn't trust his answer and obviously he understood it. Back on campus you lock the door, and everything seems to go back to the way it was the night you lost your virginity, with him inside you and your nails on his pale back. The following days pass peacefully, but you have the feeling that there is still an unresolved situation that you don't have the courage to face, because you don't like seeing him angry with you. You'd rather ignore the problem than find the love of your life against you

A month later, you're on your knees in the hallway of the campus rooms. Your fists clenched on the carpet, tears now flowing freely "What do you mean you're leaving for Japan?!" you ask in shock, seeing the suitcases at his sides blurred by the tears. Kaiser looks at you indifferently, then looks at his cell phone to check the time. You are alone, the entire campus is already inside the buses headed to the airport, and you only discovered it when, a few minutes ago, you returned from your walk in the city. You knew absolutely nothing about all this, no one and especially Kaiser had told you anything about this sudden transfer of at least six months to Japan, on the other side of the world. You ran into the room to see if Kaiser was staying, but you found him in the hallway with the suitcases in his hand, as if he wasn't forgetting you here. When you threw yourself at him to hug him he shook you off almost immediately, and you inadvertently ended up on the floor

"What, what's going on? Micheal? What's this all about?" you ask stammeringly, taking a few steps forward, but he takes a few steps back to avoid contact. He looks you up and down, judging you for the first time in the years you've known each other; in his eyes you don't recognize the same boy who fucked you shamelessly for many nights, whispering the sweetest phrases you've ever received. In his eyes there is not your savior. You tremble without being able to control it, and when you finally grab his hand, you squeeze it tightly "Micheal, why? What did I do, why didn't you tell me?" you say sobbing, but he doesn't bend down to kiss your knuckles, one of the gestures he has always made. He looks at your hand, perhaps disgusted "I didn't have to tell you anything, why do you expect this? Isn't everything I've done for you enough?" he says harshly, and the world of certainties you've built for yourself falls miserably. You let go of his hand, looking at him without knowing what to say: you've always been grateful for him saving you, but in fact, you've never done anything to repay him, and you haven't even tried. You look at him with wide eyes, your lips trembling and shiny "I... Michael, I am..." you say, but he interrupts you "Don't you dare tell me you're grateful, what I do with it? I spent money, a tattoo, my feelings for you. What did I get out of it? Nothing" he says disgustedly, and his annoyed look makes you feel so small and useless. You try to take his hand again, but it's him who grabs your wrist and blocks it, forcing you to look him in the eyes "I'm not forgetting anything here in Germany, nothing and especially no one. I no longer want to waste my strength on someone who doesn't know how to do anything but be a pig, an animal that follows its owner without personality, and who actually has the courage to say that I'm forgetting an important part. Go away, Y/n, I don't want to see you anymore, until my last fucking breath" says Kaiser, and leaves you like that, still, in the middle of the corridor while he disappears into the elevator

Standing in the hallway, you feel like dying would be a lot less painful now. Your breathing is blocked, and your ability to move has stopped the moment he made it clear that he wants you dead. His words start to spin in your head, spinning so much that your vision blurs and everything around you goes black. Your god doesn't want to be worshipped by you anymore, your Michael Kaiser doesn't want to have you around anymore. Everything you shared with the same person for more than two years has now been thrown in the trash, along with all your hopes for a future with him. Are you really a useless pig? Is it true that you no longer have a personality? But really, why did he do it? Was it a particular behavior of yours that hurt him? Why did he throw you away so easily?

The world no longer exists, you no longer exist. He took your life with him, on the bus, on the plane and in Japan. He threw you away when he had the chance, and what are you left with now but a blurry memory of yourself before you met him? What are you now that he, your sense, is no longer there?

What are you now? A pig? Alone?

He is not here, he will not be here as long as you live, but you already know that you will not live anymore. How can you continue to live when all your certainties are gone, leaving you like a fool? Do you really still have any sense? Are you still you?

Even before the time is up, the stick already has two clearly visible pink bars. You stare at the stick speechless, feeling a general feeling of unease throughout your body after realizing what I have suspected for a month now. Your hands start to shake, causing the test to fall to the floor, which however does not change the result at all. The room, even though empty, suddenly seems so narrow, the more you look at that stick the more you realize how deep in shit you are. It wasn't supposed to happen, not now with you in this condition, but he never took precautions even once, and you let him do it because there was no point in telling him to do something else

The pregnancy test comes back positive, even after you've been staring at it for a whole hour. You're pregnant with Michael Kaiser's child, now the star of the Blue Lock TV

But you and him haven't spoken in three months.

Today is a beautiful sunny day in Berlin. You woke up early to go running, meditated and took some supplements that the doctor prescribed you last week. Berlin has had a huge boom in sunny days lately, but that's probably because it's almost spring, and that means more time for your skin to be kissed by the sun. Warm light also comes in through the window of the room, from where you see outside a beautiful garden that you've already stared at a thousand times. You turn to Ines, who is still coloring her book: you should do her ponytails like this more often, now that you look at her, because it makes her blonde hair look better. Maybe you too should start wearing your hair tied up again and no longer loose

"Miss, it's always the same story. You shouldn't take your medication with coffee, don't ruin all the work you've done with another addiction" the doctor says, looking up from your clipboard and directing her gaze to you. You chuckle nervously, playing with a lock of hair as you lean back in your chair "You're always so funny, Dr. Horwell. You always know how to make me smile" you say, and she huffs, probably as tired as you are from this session. The two of you have a staring contest for a few seconds, but the psychologist seems to be winning "Really, Y/n. You’re such a nice girl but often… often you get lost in useless memories. In stupid things. It makes me feel like you want to continue therapy just to meet me" the woman says, and you raise an eyebrow at her comment "Not that I like spending 100€ every time I come here, but yes, I enjoy your company" you say giggling, and this makes the other woman chuckle too, but she looks at you with a serious look of displeasure. She sighs, placing the folder on the table "If you enjoy my company that much, I’d be happier to see you in another context. Not in therapy, like the last three years" she says, looking down

You don't react, they keep smiling. You don't like to admit that you're not healed yet, and that since the last thing happened, it feels like you've wasted years of therapy. But now there's no point in showing sadness, the psychologist knows how much you're still tied to your trauma, to the reason why you decided to start the sessions years ago. You don't need her words to realize how much you pretend to have overcome the situation, when instead you still feel like you're in that corridor in Berlin. Even though you want to move on, you feel like if you do, you'll be taking away your last chance to be whole in the way you want to be and not the way the psychologist intends. You're fine with this, you've been used to being in this condition for years now. It would be strange to change, even if this would probably lead you to be able to start living for yourself again and not for the sixteen-year-old you

"I think seeing him was the icing on the cake, really… tell me again, how are you?" she asks, and you smile "Great. I’m still shaken up, but I think I can handle it" you answer, but for the umpteenth time you are lying to yourself. Seeing him after five years was harder than you want to admit, more destructive than his words left to you years ago. But it happened

You still remember how Ines complained about having your hand too tight on yours, which you were involuntarily squeezing tightly. You still remember perfectly how he turned towards you even before you recognized him. You still remember how you felt like a pig again, as if you were watching your master taking you to the slaughterhouse. You still remember how smelling his smell again after years made you cry without you even realizing it. You still remember when, few days ago, you saw Micheal Kaiser again after years, and you with his daughter, whose existence he doesn't even know

"Do you at least regret what you did to me?"

"I regret you, not the situation"

"I know when you lie to me, I know you. But you still have the same problem as when you started therapy..." says the psychologist, and you tilt your head, waiting for an answer "You still chase the problem, rather than accept the end. You gave so much to him that you didn't realize how little you had become for yourself" says the psychologist, knowing full well how to stab you without making you bleed "Accepting that it's over for you means accepting that he only wanted you from the beginning for one purpose. But accepting it would make the sixteen-year-old you suffer, even if it would mean bringing the you of now to finally be free. You're afraid, you're afraid to see yourself happy because you still think you haven't repaid him for saving you" she says, and the room becomes quieter than you can stand. You look around, avoiding direct eye contact now that you're in the corner. Your hands start to sweat, and you try to take deep breaths to regain some clarity. You look up a little, lips trembling "Did he ever love me?"

The psychologist smiles at you, perhaps a little to reassure me "I can only give you my personal opinion, but for me, yes, he loved you. But he was broken, just like you, and he blew it all when he realized that the situation could hold him back from becoming the best in the world. He loved you, but he did it as a consequence, not as an initial goal. At first he helped you only because he needed another support, someone he could give everything to fill the holes he had. But something broken can't try to fix itself using something else that's broken. You were simply too young to be destroyed, but too old to be saved"

word count: 15,696

[lady06reaper]

Viking x Sweetheart reader. Who on the outside is a big sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly. Said Viking got her from a village.

Only when alone with her husband does she cuss like a sailor and scream when she wants to. Just a overall temper (Viking finds it hot tho-)

She also acts like this around her kids (if she has any) and her kids are absolutely flabbergasted to see how their mom acts outside of home. Often getting secretly slapped upside the head when they say something smart only to realize no one saw it.

- Marshmellow (bit of a crackfic lol)

ya know, this the OPPOSITE of me, I'll cuss anytime, it's only when I'm alone I'm a total "sweetheart"

NSFW lines are slashed, the rest is SFW besides the cussing

HOW THE RAGNARSONS REACT TO YOU HAVING THE MOUTH OF A SAILOR

Bjorn wouldn't know it was coming, you were the sweet and doting wife, helping neighbors and playing with the local children

Your were a delicate flower in his eyes, but he knew you could hold your own when need be

Until you came home and slammed your dagger into the table where he was eating

"That mother fucking no tits asshole of a cunt! Who the hell does she think she is?! Talking about my damn husband in that fucking manner!"

his hand stopped mid path to his opened mouth, his eyebrows rose away from his widened eyes

did he hear that correctly? or was the mead taking effect already?

he stayed like that for a few moments until you snapped at him to say something

"Your mouth, where'd you learn to talk like that?"

little to Bjorns knowledge, you had always had that vocabulary, it just only came out when you were pissed

not to mention you prefer to keep the innocent facade up in public, but that doesn't you can't flip the switch if you get pushed more than what you did that day

More occurrences like this happened, though he was prepared to just let you go and cool off

that doesn't mean he didn't help you let out your frustrations with sex either

Now he knew that this delicate flower of his was poisonous

Ubbe had a feeling that that mouth of yours was dirty, he just never witnessed it

unless you were going down on him

the feeling stayed dormant for the longest time, until he came home to the long house turned upside down

furniture was strewn across from its original places, some were broken too

You were sitting on the throne throwing daggers at a table you had propped up on its side, cussing every time the enlarged knives left your hands

"That *thud* little dicked *thud* no balls *thud* bastard child *thud* of a fucking merchant! *thud*"

he now knew his feeling was right, as they normally were

he was grateful you ran out of daggers when he reached you, or otherwise he feared one would end up in him

he didn't need no explanation, he knew that the merchant you were lewdly referring to must've tried something on you to woo you away from him, it wasn't the first time, but you were so sweet in public that you didn't want to ruin your public look by cussing the man out in public

no words were spoken as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bathtub where you and Ubbe would share a relaxing soak

Ivar knew from the start that you had a mouth, there was no way you were as innocent as you portrayed

there was always two sides to sword, he just hasn't seen your sharper, more deadlier side

until he about took your blade to his throat when he approached you in the woods while you were hacking a tree with your sword

"What's the matter my dove?" Ivar cocked his head to the side.

"That god damn fish fucking tree humping shit eating whore of woman your brother keeps closely by his side! Bitch tried to say my form was wrong during training!"

and there was your sharper edge

Ivar never understood why you kept this side hidden, especially from him

he figured it was a threat to everyone to have your meaner side out in public, and keep your softer side for him only

but Ivar wasn't you, you preferred to keep this side a secret incase you truly needed it

he thought it was hot watching those profanities drip from your mouth

like his cum did last night when you two were fucking

but, I also know that if he encouraged the sailor talk he would also receive it too, which would most likely turn into a battle of who can come up with the worst names

he liked the fiery side of you and wished you would show it more often

the villagers did not as they heard every cuss word that came out of your mouth, including the whore

[gilverrwrites]

at this point we should give dick a sionis!reader and call it a day 💀 all the batboys have one now except for him (but I have no idea what his plot would look like compared to the other three)

Yeah, Jason and Tim dating with his kids and now Bruce sleeping with his ex-wife, Roman’s hatred of them is becoming more and more justified. . Can I also just add that Roman would be the most miserable girl dad. Imagining him with his 3 bastard girls and ex wife who he's still hung up on but can't win back fills me with joy and its becoming a full on AU in my head.

Anyway, okay, so hear me out with my pitch; Jason/The Rebellious child, Tim/The Favourite child, Dick/The forgotten child

Specifically, one who has tried so hard all their life to not be. Even more specifically, a dancer, a singer, maybe a triple threat. It’s not that you need the attention, you’re good at what you do, you get the parts, you have a small fanbase, you’ve won some minor awards. But just once you’d like to look out into the crowd and see your father or your siblings out there cheering for you.

You try so hard to be supportive of the rest of your family, always there for everybody. You listen to your rebellious sibling and your father bitch about each other constantly, you help them mend their bridges. Rebel is notoriously flaky, but you always step up and cover for them.

You help the favourite study. You were the only one who knew when they started seeing Tim and you helped keep it a secret.

You attend all your fathers parole hearings, all his club launches. You wear the stupid clothes and play the happy, smiling child whenever he wants to show his kids off at events.

But no matter how much you do for everyone, they never return the favour. As soon as you bring up an audition you need help with or a new show you’re in, everybody dips. Nobody takes you up on the free tickets you can get them. When you were training, Roman footed the bills and told all his buddies about his kid the dancer/singer/whatever, but not once did he show up to a single one of your recitals.

But one day, at one of his stupid galas, Dick Grayson catches you dancing by yourself on the patio outside and is instantly smitten.

“Where’s your dance partner?”

“Oh, haha. Can’t you see him? He’s right here.” You jokingly gesture to the air.

“Ah of course, hello sir. Mind if I cut in? Not at all, please be my guest.” He puts on a silly voice as he answers himself before offering a hand to you. “May I?”

And you’re sceptical at first, but you take his hand, and you let him whisk you off. You dance around in circles all evening, laughing and joking, and getting to know each other. You have the night of your life, but dating Dick Grayson seems like a bad idea, it’s not that you don’t want it, it’s just that your dad would so not approve. So, you resolve to move on, but will always remember that magical night.

Until a few weeks later, you step on stage and spot him front and centre in the audience looking elated. And although it's downright euphoric for you to see him there, you're not prepared to face him. Alas, he comes to your dressing room straight after the show anyway. Reaching you before you can sneak out, and confronting you about never calling him back.

You explain your hesitations and that golden child part of his brain understands, his heart aches for you. But he so selfishly wants to see more of you, so he gently mentions how your dad doesn’t seem to care what you do... and hey, maybe he’s out of line here and if you want to tell him to take a hike he will but all he wants is a chance to be a part of your life, can’t you spare him one date? Please?

And damn is he hard to say no too. So, you concede. And one date becomes two, then three, and so on…

It doesn’t take long for you to fall hard and fast for him. C’mon who wouldn’t?

He’s handsome, and charming, funny, smart, and superb dancer to boot.

But what really does it for you is how badly he really does wants to be a part of your life. Dick Grayson wants to dance with you anywhere and everywhere; At galas, in the rain on the way home from a date, in your kitchen at 3AM.

Dick Grayson could listen to you talk about anything and everything all day long. Doesn’t have to be performance related, but he likes it best when it is. He especially loves reminiscing about his circus days with you.

And though his job may get in the way sometimes, Dick Grayson wants to be front row at every single one of your shows. He wants to clap the loudest, and bring you flowers, and tell all of his friends, THAT’S MY BOO up there! From the moment he met you, Dick Grayson could never, ever forget you.

How we feeling about this concept?

[gremlingottoosilly]

Oh my god, asks are open! Hey how are you?? And what are your favourite König AUs' counterparts??

Asks are still closed, actually, I just used the opportunity to promote my Instagram. But...for my top Konig AUs, I have these ones! 1) Mafia Konig. Oh how I love this man. I honestly don't know much about Austrian criminal life, but I just know that this man is the perfect jaded ex-soldier who came out of service, saw how the system treats its veterans, and decided to seize power for himself. He is cool, strong - his awkwardness and inability to socialize casually is almost going unnoticed as he seeks retired soldiers to make up his crime group, getting control over drug and weapons market. With his connections in all of Central Europe and slowly creeping onto the Eastern part and illegal gun and oil deals, the only thing he is lacking is a pretty girl on his lap, making him feel good. He doesn't like escorts, often leaving bad taste in his mouth - but he sees you, a pretty girl working in a cafe that he owns, in a flower shop that is just a front for his business, in some shabby tourist establishment made to get tourists on cheaply produced drugs...you're innocent, you have no idea about the dangers around you - but don't worry, he is cynical for both of you. 2) Loser!Konig Seeing this big guy with a big title and money and even a house being a complete loser for you is...something. He is dangerous, of course, always getting borderline or straight-up obsessive, so down and for you it's horrible - but the again, he is the only guy to ever love you like this...so, why not give him a chance? Yes, he will hunt you down and out you on his basement by the end of the week because he has no idea what the hell courting is but, then again, he would also give you some interesting lecture about lego and war history.

3) Monster!Konig Obviously, having this giant eldritch horror dude so down bad for you is exciting to write! This version of Konig is mainly a tsundere type, he is acting cold because monsters value power and he doesn't want to seem too soft with his little pet wife - but don't worry, he is soft and warm behind the closed doors, always allowing you to have something nice for yourself. This version of him tights with oviposition, obviously. He is using your fertile, lush body to carry his eggs - so be prepared for all the exciting thing about pregnancy, but over and over again, with Konig cooing over you as he finally mates you for hours on end... 4) Dilf!Konig This bastard uses his kid to maintain contact with you, and he is not even ashamed! It's honestly horrible( he doesn't like to talk to his kid, so he took you in as either willing or a kidnapped nanny, and then proceeded to breed another child into you just because this guy has a major breeding kink, but can't take care of children( He will pay for everything, at least, even hiring some help to make everything a bit easier for you - but god, he starts to like his kids only when you're playing with them...

[i-eat-mold]

Opinions on 22 skk ever deciding to date?

ok guys you know i don’t often talk about canon/postcanon timeline skk but honestly its because i know if i begin i will get sucked into an endless rabbit hole. How can i possibly talk about this without foaming at the mouth? imagine how they feel about each other.

chuuya about dazai. dazai was the only “friend” he had in the mafia that had been with him since he joined. dazai helped him avenge all the other friends chuuya had that were murdered, both the flags and in the dragons head conflict, and as much as he might’ve hated the bastard, he made sure the sheep weren’t harmed and he always made battle plans that would give chuuya the choice to use corruption or not. they were together for so long, longer than any other friendship either of them had. Chuuya knew dazai was an extremely strange boy. despite his clown facade he could see glimpses of the sheer sadness and emptyness behind his eyes. Chuuya had gone through plenty of painful things himself, but he fought through it, the pain growing with him into his strength. and he wondered about what happened inside dazais head for him to be so utterly detached, so hollow, so sad. dazai saw chuuya suffer endlessly as a human, yet all it took to abandon him and his life in the mafia was odas death. just as in beast, he leaves with no word, no explanation, no goodbye, a relationship built on trust and unspoken respect. Chuuya, for as long as he could remember, was betrayed and abandoned and betrayed and abandoned and betrayed and abandoned over and over again. he knows damn well you can rely on no one but yourself, everybody leaves, everybody lies, and eventually dazai did too. he shouldn’t have been surprised but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. chuuya was left with a feeling of rage, pain, disappointment and hurt, yet again. yet again, the feeling buried behind his chest through the years, eventually becoming one more bitter experience that came back to the back of his mouth every once in a while when he thought about it.

dazai about chuuya. dazai was a child alienated from every adult in his life, always considered nothing but a monster and someone who you must never come near to. he made a friend, for one. he met a kid his age who he could play video games with and play prank wars against. he could mess with him and although they often found each other annoying, they were kids together. chuuya inspired him to keep living, at least to see what else could be out there, and while obviously oda was the nail in the coffin that made dazai turn sides, chuuya was the one who over the years shaped him into a better person and taught him about ethics (not in the most ethical ways but whatever). still dazai was born alone, he lived alone, and he would always be alone. on his hands there was a black sticky liquid that rotted everything he touched. he figured if he used gloves or was very careful of his every move he could go on about like a normal person but eventually everything and everyone around him stained, and the only way to prevent it was to not touch anything and stay away from everything he could slightly care about. chuuya was the complete opposite of him, his facade was of rage and annoyance but he had a heart so human and so big it couldn’t fit inside his chest, and personally i feel like dazai was deep inside at least a little jealous and grossed out by it. when oda, the only person who didn’t seem to rot away by the black stains died and he left the mafia he obviously couldn’t just delete chuuya from his mind, all those years of mutual respect and shared late childishness. he knew what chuuya had gone through, he knew he was an absolute piece of shit of a person for becoming just one more betrayal in chuuyas book, and he did it anyways. it became something that didn’t sit right with him for years.

years pass and their feelings, complex and painful, settle down in strange ways and aftertastes. you meet someone again, and they are a different person, and you are a different person, but the two children inside you are still best friends, soulmates, and you still know their worst fear and their deepest wishes, but you don’t know who will they hang out with on friday night, or how their job is going. you have to get to know each other again, you already know everything about each other, you know nothing about each other. theres a thousand things you want to explain, to cry on their shoulder about, to yell at them, so many healed scars to show them and so many open wounds to shove in their face, to forgive them, to tell them how much you resent them and forever will, to not say a word at all and yet have them understand all of it.

i personally think their relationship in their adulthood has so much to talk out and come to terms with, but they were partners for so long and so much love doesnt just disappear. if they acknowledged all the things between them that have gone unspoken since they were children they would make a great true couple.

1. because of how deeply they know and understand each other and how they always cared for each other wether theyd admit it or not and

2. because they are so utterly terrible and unbearable that them being together would be a disaster, but having them be with anyone else separately would be even worse bc the only people that can tolerate them are each other

[itscherrylipsforme]

A love story yet to be written: Jason Todd x Vigilante!bookworm!fem!reader

Summary: The mysterious Red Hood has been your loyal teammate since you became another one of Gotham's vigilantes. Many literature puns and "subtle" flirty comments later, he has decided that it's time to meet you when you two are not covered by the city's darkness and your secret identities

Warnings: Just dozens of references to my fave classic lit authors and novels

Requested: yes

Words: About 1570

Author rambles: God, this has been on my drafts for so long. Glad I was finally able to publish it. Thanks to the anon who sent the request, hope you like it 🫶🏼

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Gotham’s skies were pitch black when you submerged, like every twilight, in its streets and roofs. Masked face, combat boots, dark sweater and jeans paired with a black leather jacket and a bulletproof vest under all of it. Pointed daggers on your belt, a pair of guns attached to your back harness just in case. Being a vigilante was not an easy side job, but you needed to do it.

Some people simply can’t watch their whole world fall apart and stare blankly. And you would certainly not stay back when your beloved city was drowning in corruption and crime. Growing up you had always been aware that they were others protecting you. Batman, Robin, and the other peculiar crime fighters that had joined them with the pass of time. But being honest, Gotham was a criminals dump, and all the help they could get counted.

 So, you decided to do you your bit. Trained hard, learned how to hide in the shadows and started to feel that what you did matter to your people. Recognition was not long in coming, although fame was not what you were after anyway. One night a camera caught you beating up one bastard who was trying to assault a young girl, next day you were on the news. Dusk they called you and you were not annoyed by the nickname, it suited you in a certain way.

You soon became another no-faced admired warrior to your neighbours. Not bad for the girl who used to be bookworm theatre kid back in High School. Becoming one of Gotham’s saviours was not one of your dreams job as a child, but life has surprising turns waiting for us. What was even more unexpected is that you ended up meeting one of the other vigilantes and that he had become an interesting fellow during the otherwise solitaire superhero’s nights.

“Nice to see you here in the dead vast and middle of the night, darling” He greeted you, after hearing your feet landing in the same rooftop he was in. Didn’t matter if he was backwards, you had started to think he had developed a sixth sense to notice your presence. You could almost bet he was smiling bellow his metallic helmet.

“Good night, Hodd” You answered coming by his side. “Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

“Smart girl. Hamlet, more precisely” You agreeded “You arrived later than you use to”

“Missed me, geekie boy?” A little chuckle broke the silence of Gotham.

“Of course I did! I would not wish any companion in the world but you” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his gaze locked in the city’s sky. “And admit it, you are as much a nerd as I am”

“The Tempest? Have you been rereading Uncle Willy’s plays again?” The question ended up sounding like a half-joke half-teasing “And you are right, bookworm and proud. We wouldn’t get along so easily if I weren’t. I declare after all that there is no enjoyment like reading”

A slow nod was the only answer you received. You were certain that a smile was decorating his face at the moment. But not in a million of years you could have imagined that his usual smirk was now followed by a pinkish tone in his cheeks. How long he had been like this around you? He couldn’t recall exactly. This flirting slightly hided between book quotes and glances had been part of your friendship for quite sometime now.

The only problem? He couldn’t bear with being just a friend anymore. When it had all started? He didn’t know. Maybe the night he met you. And when the two of you started patrolling together like every other night, he couldn’t help coming back to those sweet memories still fresh on his mind.

“Another superhero wannabe” that’s what he thought when he first saw you moving from celling to celling without the grace and rhythm that only years of practice can give you. And he was not wrong, you were an amateur, one who still need to practice, but you definitely were determinate enough for that. Jason was not aware of this, therefore he decided to have some fun.

“What are you doing here?” He asked jumping to your side with a voice tone much deeper than his usual one.

“Patrolling” You managed to say in a whisper, rising your head to look at him directly. Shivers run through your spine, not knowing what to do. But you would not allow him to notice your fear.

“Scared of me darling?” He leaned a little so he could be nearer to your face.

“Not even a little, I know who you are” You answered and somehow the most daring and wittiest part of your mind chose to add the next sentence “And also there is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others.”

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” He finishes almost instinctively.

He stared at your for some instants, not believed the words that had just come out of your lips. Another vigilante? Who quoted Austen? The night was turning up to be quite interesting.

“You are a sharp girl, with a good book taste” He resolved. “Red Hodd, at your service” He offered you his hand and his presentation, although it was no needed.

And that’s how all started, now a few months later you two keep protecting Gotham from whoever and whatever treats it. This night had been tranquil, a seldom occurrence, and Jason hadn’t talked to much, his mind was focused on a matter which had been troubling him for weeks. When the first rays of light threaten to appear, it’s time to farewell. Not without cracking some bad puns first of course.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Dusk is the sun.” He smirked once again.

“First, that’s contradictory. Second, you seriously have to get over your Shakespeare era”.

“Does that mean I don’t get a proper goodbye?” Even with his voice modulator you could hear the teasing edge on the question.”

“Of course, you do” You tried to come up with something silly, yet sweet. “Good night, sweet prince, and flights and angels sing thee to thy rest!”

With that you made a small joking bow and left the rooftop to go back home. It had been enough; Jason had made out his mind. He was going to look for you. He needed to see the unmasked face who had been able to be the first one to win his heart. Luckily, one of his many siblings is a professional hacker.

A bookstore, somehow, he was not surprised at all when Tim found your worked there. In his jean’s pocket there was a small piece of paper with dozens of cheesy books lines that made him think of you. "You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." "We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how” … And those were only the first ones. There were not enough words in the books from your bookstore to describe how nervous he was and how much he wanted to tell you he loved you. But he could at least try.

Your elbows were resting on the counter, another novel laying in front of you. When the doorbell rang announcing another client, you immediately smiled and looked at Jason. You left your seat to meat him by the door, the book long forgotten.

“Took you long enough to find me, geekie boy” You gritted him.

All his speech and quotes banished in the air with just a single sentence of yours. He finally came to himself.

“Wait, were you waiting for me?”

“Of course, I did” You chuckle, God he loved that sound “For almost two months, after all your bad pick-up lines I thought you would be ready to come and met me in person”.

“But… How have you recognized me?” Confusion was still seen on his face.

“Easy. Looked for the libraries and bookstores that had your favourite tittle. Cheeked the names of all the men who borrowed or bought them. Looked for their photos on the internet and compared them with the physical description I had from your” You shrug your shoulders as that work was nothing to you “I am a vigilante after all”.

“I have a brother who would love to meet you, you know?”

“Maybe later, but I guess you came here because you had something to tell me”.

He took a deep breath. Just a few hours, that was all he needed to win you over this time. "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” He said softly, but determinate “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you.”

Just after he finished your lips were meeting his in a soft and sweet kiss, like the ones written in romance novels.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul” You whispered to his ear.

“Actually, that’s from the movie, not the book”.

You had to kiss him again, this time with more passion, to shut him up.

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

i have this idea/possible au in my head and its been floating around for a while. it came to me when i realised that there were 5 lords in black and 5 nerdy prudes (including steph), and i thought what if these poor kids were each haunted by one of the LiB...

Ruth with Pokey, because of her love for theatre and dreams of being the star of a show. pokey would find her weak spot by offering her the role of a lifetime, her chance to be in the spotlight for once. i also have a hc for ruth that she has some form of ocd, and pokey has an affinity for everything to be perfect and in order, too.

Grace with Blinky, because her family and upbringing has taught her that everything she does in her life is under critical review. in grace's mind, she's always being watched anyways. she is always being judged or judging herself based on her actions and the "sins" she does/doesnt commit. honestly, she's so freaked out by doing the right thing at all times, she might already be watched by blinky.

Pete with Tinky, mostly because of that Spankoffski connection. of course, tinky wants to have the whole collection. ive thought a lot about how if ted is the time bastard, its likely that tinky would appoint his little brother as the space bastard. i hc pete to have a lot of social anxiety issues (im projecting) and believe me, it would be hell of a lot easier if space and time were on his side now and again.

the last two took some thinking. so bear with me.

Steph with Nibbly. not just because of nibblys "yum yum" line, or the very popular headcanon that steph's mother was honey queen (i still believe that she was, btw). but i think as the mayor's daughter, steph was raised to be very aware of her public image, that includes how she is perceived AND who she is associated with. before pete came into the picture, she probably had a lot of exes within the "cool kids" dating pool. someone she can be with for a few weeks to keep up her status, suck them dry until she couldn't bare to be with someone she didnt actually love, and then move onto the next. additionally, she probably has an idea in her head that she has to make herself "desirable" in order to keep up with the cool kids. between her hunger for attention, her father's hunger for success, and the overall high school hunger for popularity, nibbly would find a lot of places in steph to tap into.

lastly, Richie and Wiggly. and no, this has nothing to do with Jon playing both characters. richie, in my eyes, is a child at heart. not that he's immature or anything, but he just has a love for the simpler things. he likes anime and sci fi films. and, sure, he's smart and likes science, but he's not looking forward to college like his other nerdy friends. part of him wants to stay a kid forever, a feeling he would grow out of in time, but not before wiggly could take a stab at him. wiggly puts himself into a doll, for fucks sake. wiggly wants power and control, and richie wants his friends to stick around. wiggly wouldn't have to try very hard to befriend richie through his love of "childish" things, and from there he could "help" richie make sure his friends never, ever, leave.

im not sure how this would go, but the LiB each picking a different member of this friend group would cause a lot of competition down in the Black, and put a lot of strain on the relationships up in Hatchetfield.

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.3 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all.

Authors Note: Thank you all so much for the support! I am so glad you are all loving this series so far! As always please, like, reblog and comment if you are loving this series and hopefully others would like it as well. Also...THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST. Since we reached this number, I would do another father figure series because I feel I'm much better at that than a romance x reader version. Who should it be? Gale? Wyll? Rolan? Gortash? So many choices!

  Astarion leans against the rocky wall watching you get swarm by the female druids and Tieflings coddling you from how adorable you are. He lets out a small smile seeing you pout as the ladies coo at you. He thinks back to the discovery he found out 2 nights ago. Dhampir, when has Cazador ever been involved with a human. More importantly which dumb female wants to be in a relationship with Cazador. He looks at you seeing you trying to squirm away from the ladies. He sudden thinks back how protective Cazador was with you. Never letting you step out of the palace even at night….no…he wasn’t protecting you but rather himself. He’s raising you as a spawn to conceal the reality of your powers. What a bastard but then again Astarion is not surprised, it’s Cazador after all.  

 You finally had enough of this ladies and burst out crying “Astarion!” You wail feeling overwhelmed. He sighs and walks over “Excuse me Ladies, I think the little one has enough and I hate for them to get cranky.” He picks you up walking away from the pouting ladies. “Now, now, there is no need to cry” He sighs and rubs your back as you whimper clinging on to his armor. “Don’t like the attention or what?” He asked as you only kept quiet whimpering a couple times laying your head on his shoulder trying to relax. He leans his head back trying to look at you, “Are…you okay, so odd of you to be quiet.” He mutters trying to find the group in the grove. “I just miss home…I miss papa…and everyone else…” You mutter. He sighs “there, there but you have me no?” He hums walking through the grove enjoying this simple conversation with you. “I want to go home…my clothes don’t fit much…it hurts me and I miss my toys!” You whine. Astarion lets out a chuckle “Oh what a spoiled little spawn…well creature…eh, you’ll always be a little spawn to me.” He puts you down looking at you, it was true, he did notice you were an inch taller than yesterday and your clothes did look a bit tight. “Oh you weren’t kidding…” He thinks looking around “Dhampir do grow faster and mature faster….” He mutters to himself before going to a trader seeing if they have anything in stock, fabric even. 

As he was busy, you stray from him as you spotted a few tiefling children playing. You ran over smiling “Can I play!” You stood in front of them. “Sure! You’re from Baldur’s gate aren’t you by the way you talk and dress?” One of them smiles, “What games do you play at home?” One asked. You think carefully. Games, well you play ball by yourself, Cazador has you learn reading and writing. “I…um…I don’t know…usually papa has me studying and sends his people to play with me.” You held your hands behind your back and kick your feet in a shy manner. “Oh…you’re those kinds…Um….I think I heard my mom calling” They quickly left as the others give other excuses and leave you alone. You only look down and grab the ball they dropped bouncing it on your own. “What’s the matter?” Gale walks over seeing the scene. You look up, eye glossy trying not to let tears fall down. “Making friends is hard…” You whisper “Back home there is no other children playing with me…” Gale looks at you thinking back to himself as a young child. “It is isn’t it?” He smiles gently grabbing the ball from you and tossing it to you playing. You smile giggling and toss it back to him. “I don’t have any friends at home to play with, papa never lets me leave the big castle…” You catch the ball as it was tossed back. “Is that so? I know how it feels to be lonely…how about this.” He catches the ball and placed it down as he squats to your height. “(Y/N) would you like to be my friend?” He smiles as your eyes widen gasping. “You mean it!” Your little body bouncing with excitement. Gale nods waiting for your response. “Yes!” You bounce happily “ I have to tell Astarion!” You ran off to find the pale elf. Gale chuckles watching run off to bother Astarion with a big smile on your face.  

The next day You were told to stay in the grove. Shadowheart chuckles watching you pouting away eating whatever was given to you. “I want to go out too!” You look up at her. She only sighs “How do I deal with children…you want to go out you say? I guess we can outside the gates and collect some herbs. I know everyone is going to need healing after this battle.” Getting up, she held your hand and walked outside of the grove. You ran around happily collecting flowers for everyone. “What am I supposed to collect?” You asked her. She smiles fixing your hair “See this herb right there, that’s what we need.” She points as your eyes follow the direction she was pointing at. You ran over picking it up smiling and collected more. She only sits by the rock watching you over as you collected whatever caught your little eye. You hum the same tune Cazador would hum to you. Collecting flowers you stopped seeing a bunny hop around in the distance. Shadowheart was busy playing with the artifact like a rubik's cube only to look up hearing the poor bunny squeal in the distance. She panics not seeing you and gets up putting the artifact away. “(Y/N)!?” She follows the sound before going down a small path behind a rock wall seeing you drain the blood of the poor bunny. You look up at her blood soaking your shirt and your lips stained. “What…are you doing?” She slowly walks over to you and kneels by you. You look at him “I…I didn’t mean to…I wanted to play with the bunny but…” You began to wail feeling overwhelmed by these urges. “Oh please don’t cry.” Shadowheart panics looking around, not knowing what to do in this scenario. “Where is the Spawn when you need him…okay. Let’s clean you up and a nap will help” She holds your hand ignoring the blood and toss the rabbit on the side into a bush for a wolf or other animal to chow on. She walks to the river and makes you wash your hands. “Relax, everything is going to be okay.” She whispers as you whimper. She collects water into her palm and rubs off the blood from your shirt the best of her ability. She sighs seeing the shirt to be now discolored into the blood stain. “Your bag is in the grove….we can’t let them see you like this.” She wipes your cheeks clean as well. You look over hearing the bush rustle behind her. Shadowheart quickly picked you up and took out her mace. “Who goes there!” She glares. You cling to her only to tear up seeing Astarion walk out of the bush. 

“There you are, I thought I smelled blood near the gate.” He was out of breath and bruised from the battle they came back. His hair was all over the place and had a panicked look on his face. Shadowheart puts her mace away “Don’t scare me like that! I could’ve swing!” She scolds at him. He paid no attention to her as he walks over seeing your face stained in tears and a scared look. He noticed your clothes stained in blood. He took you from her arms and held you close, his hand on the back of your head. “What in the hells were you thinking?! I thought it was your blood I smelled all the way from the gates! I thought you got hurt!” He yells but not loudly knowing how much you hate it. You only laid your little head on his shoulder crying into his shoulder, your fist clinging on to him. He softens a bit feeling your little shoulders shake, you were scared. “What happened?” He looks at Shadowheart ready to pin this on her. “What did you do to them!” He glares at her. Hearing the commotion, Tav found them along with the others following. “What’s going on? Why is (Y/N) crying?” Tav walks over ready to stop Astarion seeing the murderous glare at the young woman. “What did you do!” He repeats to her, holding you close. “Their Dhampir side came out…” Shadowheart looks at him, feeling a bit speechless seeing him get this overprotective. She snaps out of it and points to the bunny in the bush. Gale walks over but turns around quickly “If you have a weak stomach…I suggest not looking” He covers his mouth. Tav walks over and looks at the bunny. “Gods…its in pieces….” They whisper. Hearing their comments made you tear up. They think your a monster, they won’t be your friends anymore…they won’t take you to see your home and papa anymore. You only hide your face more, letting out choked sobs. “Enough! Think before you speak.” Astarion held you close “We just hide the damn bunny and do our best to cheer them up…they are feeling overwhelmed and not themselves…gods do you people ever use your brain?” He walks off holding you close. 

  Night fell, you were in Astarion tent, in the corner. The pale elf walks in holding food, “Your still human…you need to eat this….we can start implementing human foods more than blood to control that urge.” He sits by you. You only look at the plate, hugging your knees and shake your head no. “(Y/N)...it was okay what you did…it’s in your nature…and I know your scared…I was too…when I first became a spawn….” He whispers softly and scoots closer only for you to scoot away. “ No…I don’t want to you…or anyone…like I did to Mr.Bunny..” You tear up. “Is that why mommy didn’t want me…am I a monster…they…probably won’t be my friends anymore” You whispers thinking back their reaction to the bunny. Astarion looks at you before grabbing your arm, you gasp and try to wiggle away, scared to hurt him only to feel a warm embrace. Astarion held you close, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “By hells, you are speaking nonsense little spawn.” He rubbed your back. “If they thought of us as monster, we wouldn’t be here now…they…are odd in their own ways you know so no one is perfect.” He grabbed the plate “Now eat up” He feed you a piece of fish and sat you on his lap, making sure you ate. You happily munched feeling slightly better. 

  After finishing your food, you laid your little head on Astarions chest as he held you close in one arm while the other was busy reading a book about Dhampir’s he found in a box. Your little doe eyes look up seeing everyone walk to Astarion’s tent. You cling to him feeling anxious only to calm down as Astarion rubs your little arm, “Relax, they come bearing gifts” He hums. Gale was the first one to talk “(Y/N), it was rude of me to…you know…having a weak stomach but you have nothing to worry about, I will always be your friend.” He smiles and leans down leaving down a purple wrapped gift on the ground for you smiling. He rubs your head “Sleep well” He whispers before being pushed back by Karlach, “Hey little soldier! Look what I got you” She smiles placing the small stuff bear in your arms which you happily accepted. “Thank you” You whisper shyly hugging the bear. Shadowheart smiles as it was her turn. “I got you some pretty flowers and made a couple of bracelets, we both have one. “ She shows off hers and place the other next to Gale’s gift. Tav walks over smiling and crouched next to you and Astarion. “Mine…you’ll have to wait because I promise…I will take you back home” They pat your head. Upon hearing this, you gasp. “You mean it! I get to see my papa soon!” You sat up. 

Astarion leans back watching you interact happily with everyone, that fear gone. He chuckles seeing you yawn and rub your eyes. “Alright little spawn time for sleep.” He looks at the others shooing them away from his tent and picks you up, fixing the bedroll and lays down, holding you close. He wasn’t going to let you go through this alone, not on his watch. You’re his little spawn after all.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 2 The Princess

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 4331

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly. Bucky and Lena’s relationship was partly inspired by that cuckoo half-sibling couple in The Crow 😅

Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!

Brighton Beach has always belonged to the Mob.

Decades ago, it’d been the Odessa Ukrainians who reigned supreme, but Bucky’s father was a weak man, and once he’d died and Bucky had taken over leadership of the Rusă-Română Bratva at nineteen, things had changed.

In the ensuing eighteen years, he’s not only seen to it that his faction rises to the top, he’s also been ruthless enough to ensure that their dominance is never challenged, his position as the Dragon of Hydra firmly cemented.

The Dragon’s Den is one of many businesses under his direct control. It’s a popular club in its own right, located on a busy strip of similar nightlife lining the two hundred block of Neptune Ave., and acting as the unofficial epicenter of Hydra operations.

Extra bouncers have been placed outside tonight to weed out the undesirables, but even with the modified guest list due to the night’s more … illicit activities, it’s still as packed as ever. The downstairs is filled with bodies, booze, and music in no time.

At first glance, it really could be any other night, but look a little further, and the incongruencies are readily apparent. Bucky’s had everything set up in the back, a space no more than ten feet by ten. It’s just a corner, not some stage or grandiose point of focus. It’s not like they have the lights all trained on them or anything dramatic like that. Viewing isn’t mandatory by any means. … But what he’s doing is also right there for anyone who wants to look over and see. And he’s under no illusion that every single soul present doesn't know what’s going on—either because they’re watching it, or because they’re making sure to pointedly not watch it. Tongues have been wagging ever since they'd tied up Gleb and dragged Lena out.

He starts with Gleb, putting all his “tools” within view of the poor bastard but not using much more than his fists and his words. He gets a gut punch in, breaks a finger or two. Kid stuff. Bucky’s never been overly enthusiastic about torture, but you don’t hold control over any faction of organized crime if you can’t at least make yourself comfortable with it. Bucky can appreciate it for what it is, and for the nastier stuff he’s got his specialists. Besides, sheer terror and anticipation can be just as crucial to putting on a good show as anything else. Gleb’s been a crying, sniveling mess since three minutes in, so Bucky’s halfway disgusted and halfway satisfied. Mostly, he’s just discouraged that his little one has been letting such a weak man stick his prick in her. Ugh.

He takes his time, stepping away to have a drink or to chat with someone every once in a while. Bucky usually enjoys his Friday nights lounging and socializing amongst his friends and associates, after all, and he’s not about to sacrifice his entire evening to Gleb.

The Den is Bucky’s home away from home. He even has private quarters above—an amenity he’s taken frequent advantage of after many a night spent overindulging. In his youth, when he’d been new to power and Polina had been nothing but an irrelevant child of his father’s second wife, the luxury accommodations had hosted Bucky’s escapades with dozens of the most beautiful women that Brooklyn had to offer.

But that lifestyle changed once Lena came of age eight years later.

Bucky hasn’t touched another woman—hasn’t wanted to touch another woman—in the decade since, his obsessive love for her often resisted but always returned, despite her token protests. It’s an open secret, considered fodder for gossip amongst the wives. Bucky doesn’t see why anybody should be shocked. He’s always wanted things that he knows are off limits. His little one included.

She’s finally back, and Bucky is more thrilled at that than he is about anything else. Of course Gleb’s betrayal can’t go unaddressed, but Bucky’s working him over more out of obligation than any true recreational interest. He’s got him tied to a pipe. The man is panting and breathing open-mouthed at this point, some of his blood on the plastic sheeting from the fist he’d taken to the nose to start off their evening together. He’s sweating through his undershirt like a pig.

Bucky himself has been naked from the waist up ever since Natasha returned to deliver the requested transfer sheet and blithely remarked that he was “seeping” through his shirt. Normally, aftercare would see her slathering him in ointment and taping bandages over the raw skin, but Nat’s pissed at him and she’s not offering, and he’s pissed at her for being pissed at him, so he’s not asking. He just chucks the shirt when it becomes a lost cause to the blood, plasma and sweat. Whatever. It's hot in here, anyways. And he knows Lena is looking her fill whenever he turns back on her to go focus on Gleb, which is even more satisfying.

It’s because of her that he hasn’t done anything too gruesome. As a rule, Bucky usually leaves the worst of his torturing to those who have a better taste for it (the widows). And while he fully intends to make Gleb hurt before he’s given his very own pair of cement shoes, Bucky still doesn’t want to do anything too traumatizing in front of his main audience.

He walks back over to where Steve has her. He’s been holding her still against his chest, Bucky’s own tie looped around her neck and gripped in Steve’s fist behind her back, his other hand wrapped around her waist to keep her still as she plays her part in the demonstration.

Bucky stands mere inches in front of her and sips his drink, letting his eyes rake over her form. “You haven’t been eating enough, sweet pea. We’ll have to fatten you back up.”

Her lip curls. “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Takes one to know one.” He leers at her even longer for the snark, letting his free hand trail lightly along the curve of one silk-covered breast. She’s small. Barefoot like this she barely comes up to his chin. But she’s got a fat ass and a bitty waist that’ve always made Bucky want to do bad things to her, even when they were younger. Lena is blonde like her mother had been, with pale skin and other Nordic traits that set her apart from the darker hues and Slavic features that most of Bucky’s family sport.

How could he ever have been expected to keep his hands off of something so tempting?

She’s beautifully disheveled right now: hair fallen loose from however she had it up before Belova tranqued her and Pietro stuffed her on a jet, body barely kept decent in some slip of a dress that Steve’s put her in, tears already making her mascara run in grey-black tracks down her cheeks. Bucky’s always had a kink for watching pretty girls cry. “You should smile,” he tells her, mocking her by sticking his lip out in a pout. “People’ll think you aren’t having fun. This is your party, after all.”

“What are we celebrating?” she says, her effort at sass somewhat hindered by the waver in her voice. She’s not as brave as she wants him to think she is, but the front she insists on putting up makes Bucky’s heart twinge in fondness. His stubborn puppy.

“We’re celebrating your glorious and long-awaited homecoming, of course,” he coos. “All these nice folks? They showed up just to welcome you back.” He leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering there to whisper right against her skin, “And I missed you too, sweet pea. You got no idea how much.” He feels her shiver before she hisses at him, like a cat. He pulls back and gives her an assessing frown. “You’re so uptight,” he scolds. “Never did know how to let go and have a good time. I’ve always had to help you relax, haven’t I?”

Her pale skin colors beautifully. It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does she tries to hit him where it hurts, simpering a snotty little, “Oh, I don’t know. I was having a pretty good time on your yacht.”

Anger sweeps through Bucky, white hot and thrilling. Little Polina Barnes thinks she’s good at pissing him off. She is, but she’s got no idea how much her brattiness turns him on, too. If she did, she might think twice about opening her smart mouth (and Bucky can’t have that, he’d be so bored). Aside from her new penchant for leaving the flipping country, he’s always kind of enjoyed the thrill of hunting her down and dragging her naughty butt home.

But Belize is taking it too far. His yacht is taking it too far. And letting another man touch her is way beyond too fucking far. Bucky needs to reel his Little one in.

He sets the rim of his glass to her lips, tutting when she only glares up at him. “Don’t be that way, Lena. C’mon, have some. I want to see you loosen up a little.” She just presses her lips tighter together, and Bucky feels his cock thicken in his pants as he imagines using it to pry that prissy mouth wide open. He gives her a knowing smile. “No? Hm.” He finishes off the drink himself and sets it aside. He grabs her face and thumbs roughly over her lower lip, smearing the matte red of her lipstick down onto her chin. “Have it your way, Puppy. Steven?” he says, not looking at the man holding her still. “You’ve got our party favors?”

“In my left pocket,” Steve says, not reaching for them himself because he’s holding Lena’s waist and the tie wrapped around her throat. He’s not choking her, but the pressure on her neck has another effect. Bucky knows a few dirty secrets about his Little one that he’s sure she wishes he didn’t, namely that having a firm grip around her neck gets her wet. Bucky smirks and keeps his eyes on hers as he takes the liberty of reaching around her body and slipping his hand into Steve’s pocket. His fingers find the small shapes and close around them.

“Here we go,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back and holding the items up for Lena to see, chuckling when her face goes slack in shock. Her cheeks darken in a fierce blush and she starts tugging against Steve’s hold with renewed effort. It gets her nowhere of course, and Bucky and Steve share a brief amused look from over her shoulder. Bucky steps closer and pins her between them, hands stroking over her shoulders. “You didn’t think I brought you here just to watch Gleb get his, did you sweetheart? Oh, no.” He shakes his head slowly. “Mm mn. You’re gonna get yours, too.” He puts his lips to her ear and looks in Steve’s eyes while he whispers, “How long do you think before you’re cumming in front of all these people?”

Her struggles intensify, and she tries to head butt Steve behind her, but of course she’s too short for it. She huffs when his grip only tightens and she runs out of steam. “Ugh!”

“Don’t fight it,” Steve tells her, and she sneers back at him.

“Still playing the loyal dog, Steven?”

“Eh, I prefer attack dog. But sure.” He winks at Bucky and bares his teeth in a fake snarl. Bucky laughs. He really does love Steve.

“Ugh! Lemme go, you pathetic dumbass!”

“Hey. Don’t you be mean to Steve. He’s only doing his job.” Bucky puts the smallest of the three party favors in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue and gripping Lena’s jaw hard to force her to open up for him. He shoves his tongue in, delivering the pill against her will and moaning theatrically to make her even more outraged. He holds her mouth shut after, pinching her nose until she finally capitulates and swallows. Only then does he allow her to have air, tutting in mock sympathy as she regains her breath. “What’s the matter, puppy? What’s got you so worked up, hm? I know it’s not whatshisface back there. Is it just being back home?” He cradles her face and murmurs tenderly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Her face crumples and she sobs a little, the sound hardly audible in the room's loudness, but Bucky couldn’t possibly miss it when he’s this tuned in to her. He kisses her again, this time very gently, letting their lips rest together for a moment afterwards; and he can feel the way she has to fight the urge to lean into it, to seek more. She absolutely despises him, but she has an enduring need for him as well, and she’s never been very good at hiding it.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathes, his own desire winning out over the game for just a moment. “Please. What’s it gonna hurt to admit it?

“I hate you.”

“Mm. I know, Love, I know.” He brushes his lips against hers. “But you missed me all the same. Missed this.” He lets his hand trail down between her legs, working up underneath the silk of her slip. She whimpers and begs tearfully,

“No! Bucky, don’t.”

"Don't?" His fingers trail over the seam of her panties and he hums knowingly. "Your fancy panties are getting wet, Sweetheart. Did you wear these for me, or for your loverboy back there?"

“People will see!” she hisses.

“So? Let them see. You think anyone's going to step forward and stop me? Hm? Think somebody in this room is going to tell their дракон that he can’t touch what’s his? Because it’s what? Indecent?” He chuckles, thoroughly enjoying her humiliation. “Mm mn. You know that’s not happening, Princess.”

“Don’t. Please. Just … not here. Take me upstairs.”

For a second, Bucky actually pulls back to look at her face. But then he sees what it is she’s uncomfortable about, her pained expression flicking over to Gleb’s bound form behind them. Bucky feels jealous rage shoot through him. He’s always been meaner when he’s jealous. “You don’t want him to see?” he grits, then forces himself to soften his tone. “Oh, no no no. You can’t hide it anymore, puppy. Not from him or anyone else. I know what you like,” he reminds, cruel and quiet. “You know just how well I know.”

He’d bugged her devices starting when she was fifteen. He knows every dirty thing she’s ever watched, from the time she first learned how to touch herself. And his Little one knows this because he’s told her. It’d been the most satisfying moment of his life, when he’d told her that he felt the same way and watched the shock and mortification bloom on her face. That was the day he’d finally made her his—though he’d forced her to admit every single one of her filthy little fantasies out loud before he laid her down and took her virginity.

“I know how you like to feel owned,” he whispers in her ear, thrilling at the hitches it elicits in her breathing. “How you like to feel watched while powerful men touch you. What better way to satisfy those urges than by being taken by the Dragon, right in front of all his men?”

“Please don’t. You can’t.”

“What can’t I do?” he purrs, and she cries softly,

“You can’t, please. Because they know …”

“They know what?” he coaxes, wanting her to say it. He peeks up and looks at Steve from over her shoulder. “Know that you’re my sister?” he whispers. Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky's mouth curls. “Well, that shouldn’t bother you either, puppy. You and I both know your affinity for all those naughty step-sibling videos.” She whines miserably and he hushes her. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed. It’s actually a really popular genre. Number … seven, on Pornhub?” He kisses her cheek. “Right up there with M/F/M threesomes.”

Adorably, her breath catches and she stiffens against Steve’s body, now even more aware of his hulking form behind her.

Bucky hums, pleased. “There’s no need to be ashamed.” He peels her panties to the side and slips the tip of one finger along her lips. She’s not exactly soaked, but she’s not completely dry, either. “Of course, actual brother-sister incest isn’t quite as popular, but we know there’s a niche market for everything, don’t we?” Lena makes an outraged little sound that goes straight to his dick. He leans back enough to watch her expression as he holds up the second of the party favors for her to see. It’s white and thin, less than two inches long, and shaped like an itty bitty torpedo. “Something else to help you loosen up,” he tells her gleefully. “Do you want to take a guess where this one goes?”

She makes an adorable ‘meep’ of a sound and clamps her legs closed over his hand. “Don’t.”

He laughs. “Aw, good guess, little sis’, but not quite.”

“Step-sister,” she corrects shakily. “Bucky ...”

He smiles as he tries to read her, confused and tentative at first, but then growing into something devious. “Oh, I see. You’re honestly embarrassed about that? That people know we grew up together, shared the same house? Mmm." He licks his lips. "That’s not all we shared.”

"Stop it."

He watches her, thrilling in a huge surge of lust mixed with something dark and nasty. “Wow,” he astounds, goading her. “Oh boy. Just think what you’d do if they all knew the truth.”

“Bucky please.”

“Steve knows, you know. I told him forever ago.” He watches her eyes go wide and her body stiffen against Steve’s.

“You … you told …”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet pea. He thinks it’s hot, too.” Lena looks honestly too shocked for words, and Bucky leans down to give her an absolutely filthy kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and holding her jaw there for it while, between her legs, he drags the suppository through her moist folds. She squeaks, and he pulls back. He lets her see him handing it to Steve. “Will you do the honors, pal?”

“What?” Lena breathes, lost. The sweet, dumb thing.

Steve keeps hold of the tie wrapped around her neck, but he has to let go of her waist to get at her. Bucky’s able to grab her just as she starts to try and fight it. “Ah ah ah, hold still,” he coos, yanking her wrists down at her sides in an iron grip. He steps even closer, squeezing her between his body and Steve's to subdue her wiggling, pressing his thigh forward between her legs. She freezes when her fighting just puts more pressure on her clit, and Bucky hums, pleased. “Good. Be a good girl now, Lena. We don’t want this to hurt.”

She goes straight back to struggling, and Steve shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. Bucky growls and sticks his face in her hair, warning lowly, “You know: there’s a syringe of morphine waiting in the wings for your boy back there.” Lena stills again, and he hums, “That’s right. Now, if you want him to actually get it before I let the widows have at him, then you’d better stop fighting and take what’s coming to you.” She sobs at the corner he’s got her backed into, but she doesn’t go back to fighting them. Bucky keeps her in his firm grip so that Steve can get to work behind her. “And you were wrong, puppy: It doesn’t go in your pussy.”

It’s too late for her to react. By the time her eyes widen in realization, Steve’s hand is already at her backside.

Bucky grinds his thigh forward as her pupils expand from the feeling, the bundle of aphrodisiacs summarily pushed up inside her tight little pucker. “You keep that in, now,” he warns. “You should start feeling it in the next few minutes, then I’ll give you your real consequence.”

She sobs quietly. “I hate you.”

“Old hat, baby.” He steps away from her, leaving Steve to keep her in place. The promise of lessening Gleb’s upcoming pain seems to be motivating her to behave. Bucky walks back over to the pole where he's got the sad sack tied up. Just to scare the crap out of him, he spends a moment tracing all the different tools that’ve been laid out for their use.

“Please,” Gleb begs.

“Shshsh,” Bucky coos, stepping close and cradling his face, intimate. “You fucked my baby sister,” he says. “What did you think was going to happen when I got a hold of you, hm?” Gleb trembles in his bindings and Bucky reaches for the pliers—a classic. Gleb’s eyes all but bug out of his head. “Colectăm mereu,” Bucky purrs in Romanian, reminding him who he’s dealing with. “You stole from the Bratva, son. Now you have to pay the price.”

“Please. I-I’ll do anything!”

He punches him in the gut, then grabs him by the hair and hisses in his face, “You already did everything! Took what belonged to me. Not very smart.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He punches him again. "I sure hope that pussy was worth it.” He smiles while Gleb is trying to regain his breath. “Eh, it probably was. I should know.” Gleb squints in disbelief, and Bucky feels another perverse thrill shoot through him. “What?" he laughs. "Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew. She didn’t tell you she likes to fuck her brother?”

Gleb’s face screws up. “Stepbrother.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of that misconception,” Bucky drawls, turning back around to get a look at his Little one’s face. Her head is tipped back against Steve’s shoulder, the drugs working into her system by now. Bucky grins. “I told you I’d get you to loosen up, didn’t I? Big brother knows how to make you relax.” He tosses the pliers aside and saunters slowly back over to her. "I just told Gleb about us,” he says. “But I think it’s about time we make a more public announcement, don’t you, sweet pea?”

Her eyes widen. “Bucky, no.”

He grins wolfishly and spins around. He calls out to get everyone’s attention, and in a few seconds everything has quieted, the room eerily devoid of chatter despite the continuing pulse of the club’s music. Bucky goes over to the bar and demands something to toast with, and a flute of champagne is produced with shocking speed. He turns back to the room. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to help me welcome our beloved Polina back home!”

Some people clap, perhaps expecting some long, heartfelt speech. But Bucky cuts to the chase and says, “I’m sure you all know about she and I.” He waits, amused and sipping the champagne. When the crowd shifts nervously, he waves his hand at them and scoffs. “I mean that’s common knowledge, right? Everybody’s tongues were wagging when my father dumped my mother to marry his whore.”

He gestures back to where Steve is holding Lena, supporting her increasingly drugged little body. “Sweet little Polina was only a few years old, back then. And my dad’s infidelity wasn’t her fault." He shrugs. "So I inherited a bratty little sister. I guess the fact that we were still both kids makes the whole thing even juicer, huh? I know you all talk about it: 'The Dragon likes to fuck his own step-sister'. How scandalous.”

He laughs and walks back over to Lena. He caresses her face, leaning in to give her a dirty kiss with plenty of tongue. The crowd murmurs louder. Bucky pulls back and looks out at the room. “The Bratva wives love a good scandal. Don’t you, ladies?” A few of the wives in the crowd look flustered at being called out. Bucky salutes them with his champagne glass. “Well you’re in for a real treat, my dears. Because little Lena back here isn’t just my step-sister. Oh no.”

(Bucky’s always liked putting on a show, so he’s unfazed when making the actual announcement makes his cock harden further in his pants.)

“You see, dear old Dad was fucking around with his pretty shlyukha for a few years before he finally married her, and you know he even knocked her up.” The room goes absolutely silent, and Bucky feels a sick thrill go through him. “That’s right,” he croons, looking back over his shoulder at the stricken expression on his Little one’s face. “This sweet pea isn’t just my step-sibling: she’s my father’s daughter.”

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time before the crowd goes back to chattering, everybody staring wide eyed—some with disgust, others with excitement over this incredible new thing they have to be outraged over. Bucky shouts at the bartender to hand out champagne to anyone who wants it. He toasts the room. “To Polina!” Only a few dozen people raise their glasses and murmur in response, too shocked to know what to do in light of this revelation. Bucky really doesn’t give a crap. This is just a display of his power, just another way to show them—and her—that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and nobody is going to do a thing to stop him. The room slowly returns to the bustle of before, and Bucky returns to stand in front of his girl. “See puppy?” he taunts, lifting the champagne flute to her mouth. “I told you nobody would care.”

It’s a lie. Everybody cares, of course. But his point has been made. He watches as she willingly drinks the champagne. “Good girl,” he praises, setting the empty glass aside. He cups Lena’s face and gives her a tender kiss. “Now, why don’t we give them a show, huh?”

“Bucky,” she whispers, a plea.

But he can see her body relaxing into Steve’s hold despite her mortification, the drugs softening her up just like Bucky’s been waiting for. He pulls the remaining party favor from his pocket and holds it up for her to see. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “Your punishment isn’t going to hurt nearly as bad as Gleb’s.”

He turns the base of the tiny pocket vibrator on and starts it buzzing. “Now, let’s get you really begging, why don’t we?”

Part 3

Masterlist

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[blacklegsanjiii]

i absolutely adore your young sanji au!! If you don't mind, could you write more about him? Like, how did the other crews that know him react to his actual age? Or even some random interactions between the straw hats after finding out!

I'M TRYING TO BE ALIVE AGAIN I PROMISE I AM SO SORRY

Young!Sanji!!! Ahh, lovely boy, precious and soft and absolutely hating everyone find out how old he actually is. He feels no one takes him seriously after they find out. They always falter and stumble and it just...doesn't feel good to him?

I feel like Law finding out would full on make him trip and face plant into the ground because Robin probably mentions it off handedly but knowingly. She knows Sanji doesn't like Law calling him Stealth Black and this seems to be the quickest way for her to stop it. Sanji is walking ahead of them to a tea house somewhere while they're in Wano. Like she specifically phrases it in a way to show how cruel Judge is and when Law full stumbles it makes Sanji look and ask what's wrong. Law is stumbling up onto his feet and is confused and asks Sanji if he's really /seventeen/ and Sanji says he is with a shrug. Law knows he's not the youngest on the crew but understands because of his love of the Sora comics that they were closer to the truth than he had realized, even after the raid suit. Germa was far worse than he knew to even its own children. When they're sat and drinking tea, Law can't help but ask why he is physically not seventeen. Sanji just goes 'ahaha, that's Germa for you' and Law is reeling that the cook is also a child on the crew. Law doesn't really change how he acts with the cook though, he doesn't see his age, only his accomplishments which are numerable even if he was twenty one, he just admires the guy more now.

Sanji is not pleased at how people keep trying to baby him after finding out how old he is and how his family is, the rescue team is especially bad. Chopper keeps asking for more and more check ups on him and Sanji is trying to just deal with it, Zoro seems to be holding back during their spars when he doesn't have to be, when they're out at a bar he keeps stealing Sanji's drinks even though he's not even buzzed yet and Zoro hates wine. Zoro, for the life of him he doesn't want to view the cook differently, but finding out about the experiments and how young Sanji was when he went through everything that led him to Zeff makes him softer. He fucking hates it but he feels like he needs to give the cook an actual chance at being a child that was denied to him. Even if he didn't get a chance he and the other kids at the dojo did play as well as train, especially when they were younger, before he left and he plays with Luffy and Chopper all the time. So when he assists Robin and Nami with the cook and making the guy take breaks. He's started doing the dishes fully on his own and shoving the cook out of the kitchen after meals.

I feel like when Zeff found out his kid wasn't ten, his kid is six and looks ten. Zeff frowns deeply at the boy who acts like a ten year old in a lot of ways, most ways, a fucked up and traumatized one albeit, but he's still ten. Except he's not and Sanji's age really shows when people flirt or try to take him to their ships for activities more fitting for an adult or teenager. Except he's not one of those, he's twelve when someone first propositions him and Zeff loses it at the customer and talks to Sanji about what they're doing, what people want from him and that he gets to decide if he wants to or not. Because Sanji is physically four years older than he actually is and Zeff wants to kill the fucking bastard that did this to the kid. Zeff knows his kid is younger than he looks but he treats the boy like how he holds himself, he's smart, impulsive, thinks he owes his life to Zeff when he doesn't. Goddammit Zeff wants him to act like a damn kid but the kid doesn't want to! Kid feels like he can't because the kid needs to be useful so on the rare nights the Baratie is closed Zeff and the others will take the kid out to the upper deck or the top of the restaurant and teach him the constellations and if the kid falls asleep it's all the better.

The kid will never act his real age, but he has people to make sure he's taken care of. That's more than enough for Sanji.

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐔𝐏!❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ eren armin jean reiner n levi ☆ various aot men as dads!!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader (referred to as mom or mommy), black aligned reader but as per usual anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: y'all thought i was playin when i said had 2 other pieces huh...well anyways heres my 2nd official revamp entry!! erm i hope u guys like it cause i lost like 3 hours of sleep over this. (its bhm you have to like it or else) stay hot!! 🎀🎀

eren yaeger 🌸

2 words. girl dad.

this man was born to have an army of girls surrounding him at all times (but he's not necessarily complaining in this case)

you two's daughter is a very passionate and outgoing child and eren totally embraces that

he's deeply involved in his child's life, sharing stories about the world and instilling a sense of curiosity (aka giving her bad ideas)

he was an outside and play in the mud kid so he is all for letting her have free range to express/play how she wants

and he's a sucker for your little girl so he usually gets roped into her shenanigans

when you come home and the house is quiet you know those two are up to something nefarious 😭😭

"eren, why the hell does my kitchen look a hot ass mess?"

"she wanted to make a cake, babe!"

i can see your daughter playing sports (soccer specifically) and he is 1000 the dad that yells at the ref.

"did you see that [name]!? that brat just pushed her over l, why didn't that bastard call it!?"

will get down and dirty for his girls. no matter what

emphasizes the importance of freedom, encouraging your to pursue her dreams no matter what.

actually the most supportive ever??

your daughter wants to play 10 different sports? he's buying all the equipment no matter the cost. she wants to be the next picasso? he'll buy her brand new art supplies and be her model.

just hes so just....*sigh*

armin arlert 🌸

my man, loml, my day 1, my soul mate my everything (he was my first anime crush i will be projecting on this one argue wit ur mama)

he is definitely a gentle parent to your little boy who's just a shy little dude

armin knows what it feels like to be that shy and quiet kid so he's very patient and understanding

him and your son are practically carbon copies of eachother minus his curly hair (which he got from you) but you think its adorable

speaking of hair HE TOTALLY LEARNS TO BRAID/DO TWIST

he knew taking care of your son's hair was going to require extra effort because of his texture but he doesnt care and learns anyway (sob sob)

him and your son are attached at the hip and wherever one goes you typically find the other.

they spend many quiet moments together and obviously armin reads him multiple stories before bed.

i can totally see y'alls son being an artist/artistically gifted

you can find him and armin sprawled out on the floor with paper and various art supplies as armin nods along to the nonsense coming out of your son's mouth

"mhmm, oh i see! i think that color looks great there too."

meanwhile you're in the corner just sobbing and dying of cuteness in your house

much like eren he teaches his son the values of curiosity and freedom, even if his son is a little more reserved

he wouldn't ever force him into doing anything he doesn't want to, but encourages him in the small things

i also fantasize about living by a beach with armin so ik he takes y'all to the beach at least 3 times a month.

every single time he goes he carries his son on his hip as the explore the beach in search of shells and other treasures to take home.

"you like this one buddy? why don't we give it to mommy as a nice present, yeah?"

i can't write too long or imma short circuit but i will be expanding on this because i love armin so much

he's so neat :]

jean kirstein 🌸

jean, as a dad, is like a mix of cornyness and seriousness

on the one hand i can totally see him making the stupidest dad jokes while you and your daughter are just like 🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏽‍♀️

like the irl personification of "im not a regular mom, i'm a cool mom"

but on the other hand he's just like my dad where he can turn anything into a life lesson and you have to sit while he scolds your daughter for at least 30 minutes

it's all out of love tho

he thrives in a lighthearted atmosphere at home and spending time together is a huge thing for him

he is a bbq/camping dad and no i will not take criticism on this

jean takes pride in teaching life skills, from fixing things around the house to imparting practical wisdom (even though it isn't always wanted 💀)

your daughter will likely be well-prepared for the challenges of the world. he likes to think he's the reason she has a good head on her shoulders.

speaking of which, your daughter is very much sassy...(jean swears she gets if from you but we know the truth)

shes the first one to have something smart to say and its gotten her in trouble quite a few times with jean...but theyre besties.

balances tough love with genuine affection, cause he definitely mellowed out as he got older but knows when to put his foot down (unlike eren. what who said that??)

your daughter knows she can always count on him. ♡

reiner braun 🌸

AURGGYGHH I LOVE THIS MAN

anyways as soon as your son was born he only knew one word.

panic.

specifically timeskip!reiner. i can only imagine him as a worrier and a helicopter parent up until your son is like 6-7.

"rei, if you don't let that boy go play with the other kids!" "[name], i read that a slide has 82 times more germs than a kitchen sink. i won't let him be exposed to that."

it's just like *sigh* but thanks to you he eventually mellows out.

y'alls son is a really kind boy. like stupidly nice. damn near a pushover. (but we love him)

while you're ready to fight the other parents (or kids) who hurt your baby, reiner is actually more gentle in his approach

he's clearly a big strong guy but he's very gentle in his approach when it comes to seeing his son cry or just in general

reiner, as a dad, is the protector. he's vigilant and caring, instilling a strong sense of security in your home

your son feels safe knowing reiner is there to shield him from any harm.

seeing talk all soft to y'alls son makes you go sksmwkwmwka he's so man...

"hey, me and mom love you very much. you got that bud?"

balances strength with gentleness. offering a listening ear and encouraging open communication.

he wants his son to know he'll always be there for him since he never really had a father growing up

safe to say your son grows up feeling understood and supported by both parents ♡

levi ackerman 🌸

for sure the strictest dad on this list.

from the moment your daughter was born he had her on a schedule that was planned meticulously.

like hour by hour he knows what's going on and you're just there like🧍🏽‍♀️

"i read a consistent schedule helps with her brain development." "...."

as she gets older he calms down a little. but like only the smallest little bit.

however! levi, although strict, is a fiercely devoted dad

this just came to me but he's the dad where if you our your daughter syas you like a snack one time he'll buy a lifetime supply until you tell him otherwise

despite his stoic exterior, Levi has a soft spot for his child's well-being and takes pride in their achievements, no matter how small

your daughter is a dancer. fight me.

even if you can't make it, you see him in the audience at every recital with a soft smile.

"you did great. yes, i recorded all of it for mom to see too."

ngl he is very rule oriented but 9/10 he bends begrudgingly for your daughter (she looks like you, so he can never say no.)

he values discipline and order but also knows the importance of showing love and appreciation.

like reiner he didn't grow up with the best father figure (if one at all) or anyone to really give him confidence growing up.

your daughter never doubts that daddy loves her and thinks she's the best ♡

he also is so skilled at doing hair?? probably better than armin.

ponytail, bun, twist, braids, you name it, he can do it. (has put you shame on multiple occasions)

teaches self-reliance and responsibility, ensuring his child is well-prepared for life's challenges.

expects excellence but also provides unwavering support

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 2nd piece done!! why was i fighting for my life during jean and reiner's....but i actually really wanna expand on dad!armin and dad!levi so maybe i'll give all the kids names sometime in the future. i tried to finish this is my ap chem class and my teacher almost took my phone 💀💀 but expect more soon cause i am on a roll! 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[whisper-in-the-night]

Undesirable (Extra)

Plot: Thomas is omega who will never find his true mate. Or no?

Warnings: omegavers; deviation from the canon; omega!Thomas Hewitt, alpha!male!reader / Y/N, mention of murdering, blood

Note: I finally finished it, yeah 🎉

•••

The rain drummed furiously on the roof, washing away the careless tracks of copper blood with cool water.

The man frantically closed the door behind him, running out onto the threshold of the house. His left hand was clutching his bleeding side, his heart was beating wildly in his ears as his lungs tried to absorb as much oxygen as possible. His legs were shaking as he walked slowly along the veranda, trying to make as few sounds as possible. His bare feet stuck to the rain-soaked wooden floor.

Suddenly the front door swung open. You frowned as you looked around the street, but then a satisfied grin graced your face as soon as you noticed the victim in front of you. The man slowly backed away with an expression of pure despair and fear. He swallowed nervously when he saw a knife stained with burgundy liquid in your hand, the blade looked damn sharp. The man looked up at you, almost reflexively shaking their heads in the hope of God's mercy, like a deer in the light of burning headlights. With one sharp movement, you closed the distance between you and grabbed the victim by the collar of an already torn T-shirt, the man screamed. You grinned, running the tip of the knife along the man's jaw line, playing.

Suddenly there was a faint cry heard from the second floor.

You hooted. "You woke my son up, you bastard," you purred with a noticeable venom in your voice, leading the knife down the man's throat. He continued to whine and beg for mercy, but with a sharp movement you drove a knife into his chest up to the hilt. His throat gurgled as the man began to choke on his own blood. You abruptly pulled out a knife and threw the body to the ground, wiping the blade on the fabric of your shirt.

When you returned home, you left the knife in the hallway and went up to the second floor, to your shared bedroom with your husband. There, in the crib, a little bundle of happiness was writhing, nervously clenching its tiny fists. His eyes were closed as he cried nonstop.

You took off your shirt and threw it on the rocking chair. Carefully lifting the baby in your arms, you held him closer to you, supporting his head with your other hand and gently cradling him.

"Hush, baby. Papa's here. Everything is okay now. Papa took away the bad man," you whispered affectionately, kissing the boy's head. After a couple of minutes, the baby calmed down, now just grunting and hiccupping. He grabbed your finger with his hands, squeezing it in the hope of calming down. The boy looked up at you with his big eyes, which he clearly inherited from his father, and smiled, recognizing his parent in you. "That's it, baby, that's it. Daddy will be done soon and come."

Ed was only six months old, and he was already a pretty smart kid. It so happened that you and Tommy conceived a baby in his last heat, two years after your impromptu wedding. The man was overjoyed, and you, in turn, discovered in yourself awakened possessive and protective feelings towards your husband and your unborn child. It was the first time you picked up a knife, taking full responsibility for providing for your family. You didn't let Thomas hunt victims or work in the basement. He spent most of his time in your bedroom surrounded by your clothes or helping Mama in the kitchen. You really cared about him. He bought everything necessary for Thomas and the baby, helped around the house, looked after Hewitt and brought him all sorts of goodies to satisfy his cravings. It was a bit of a difficult time because you and Tommy were both quite pushy and characterful, but because of the pregnancy, Thomas still became more submissive because of his emotions and hormones. It was nice to feel the first kicks of the baby, on such days you did not leave Thomas's baby belly. Although he was still full of doubts. What if he's a bad parent? What if the baby inherits Thomas' disease? What if victims hurt or steal the baby? You had to convince him otherwise. Immediately after the birth, Thomas did not let anyone into the baby except you. They were both lying in a nest of your shared clothes, protected by your presence and smell.

Now everything is back to normal. Thomas worked in the basement, so you had to look after the awake baby.

You smiled and gently kissed the child on the forehead. The door to the room slowly opened and a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. The kid immediately giggled happily, stretching his tenacious hands up. Tommy let out a slight grunt. He put his head on your shoulder, letting Ed grab his huge hand with his tiny one. The boy obediently grabbed his parent's fingers and buried his nose in them. You smiled watching them and kissed Tommy on the top of his head.

"I caught another one, I'll take it to the basement," you muttered, to which Tommy chuckled in a relaxed way.

They were so sweet. You pulled back and gently placed Ed in Tommy's arms. The boy cooed, dangling his little legs, and snuggled against Thomas's chest, sighing slightly. Thomas held the child protectively to him, watching him with his soft eyes.

[arc-misadventures]

Of Lego, And Men

Weiss: Jaune still plays with lego.

Bleiss: What?! The guys a grown ass adult, and he still plays with legos? The fuck is with him?

Weiss: Told you he was such an immature child. Can't believe he tried to flirt with me.

Bleiss: He tried to what?!

Weiss: He tried to flirt with me. It was terrible.

Bleiss: Motherfuck! That bastard son of a bitch thinks he can flirt with my sister?! Where is he, I'm gonna shove my heel so far up his ass it will poke through his skull!

Weiss: Yeah, go get him sister!

~~~

Bleiss: ARC!

Jaune: Ahh?! Oh... Hey, Bleiss, need something?

Bleiss: Heard you tried to flirt with my sister dumbass! Trying to seduce her with fucking legos.

Jaune: Hey! Lego is really fun to play with. I mean, you can build so many thing with them! There are so many interesting bricks that you could make anything with them. I mean, look at what I made! Can a kid make something like this?

Bleiss: What are you gonna show me? Some sort of kiddy… castle...?

Jaune: See! Look at the things I can create with lego! You think this was easy? It took me weeks to design: To properly place all the bricks so they fit nicely, to rebuilt the same part over, and over again to make sure it looked correct! to give it a proper human shape, and design, to make sure all the armour, and weapon attachments looked proper, and functional. To give it a soul of its own! If you can't see that then.. then you're just jealous because you've never played with lego before, and that's just sad.

Bleiss: ...

Bleiss: Y-You built this...?

Jaune: Yeah, and I'm proud of what I was able to create. You got a problem with that?!

Bleiss: ...

Bleiss: I'm gonna fuck you so hard, so long, and so good it will make an experienced succubus look like a blushing school girl virgin~!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Excuse me what...?

[rinsonlyluv]

( 弗洛 · 𝒟𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝒯𝐇𝐄 𝒫𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 )

↳ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 ; Romantic headcanons about the way you broke Rin’s iron clad heart into something more soft and gentle— something that he would of called someone insane if they told him he changed to be like that before he met you.

• 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 his eyes dilate into something innocent and fragile, dropping his entire cold facade. Whenever he hears your teasing words he looks away quickly, refusing to meet your mocking gaze and mumbling words of excuses.

• 𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, he acknowledge the way your smile drops into a small frown whenever you hear something you dislike and how your eyes looses the fire he adores. His occasional quiet speeches of annoyance turn into snarky comments, leaving the person shambling and breaking down into tears.

• 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐖𝟐𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔, the slow and soft tune reminds him of your eyes. The way they brighten up like the sun makes his lips quiver and eyes become more child-like. He hates it at times— he clings to you like a bee latching onto delicate skin before it finally dies. Yet he loves it at the same time, the way you bring out a gentler side of him he never knew existed.

• 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, he always softly spoke to you with his expression calm although his ears and cheeks were dusted a pretty pink. “I always dreamed of you cooking up dinner while I play with our kids, you know? I know it might sound cheesy and unlikely of me but I can’t help it when it just sounds so perfect.”

• 𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, if it was someone else he would scoff and call them lukewarm bastards then walk away but not with you, he carefully demonstrates what to do with patience. He would give you small words of encouragement, sometimes even teasing you while shooting an effortless goal.

• 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒. You both adore them so much, whenever you both feel down or unable to sleep then midnight talks or walks will happen. Facetiming while doing skincare or talking to each other till you both fall asleep. On walks you both chat about whats on your mind, wherever it’s something silly or serious you'll both listen to each other about it.

• 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒. Its a comfort to you both, always staring at it whenever feeling down or missing each other. He has a light blue one that you spoke about it being the colour of his eyes and you have a f/c one chose by him since he couldn't find a bracelet with your eye colour sadly.

• 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄. The tree both you and Rin used to hangout under all the time when you was little, even sometimes with his older brother. You decided to carve both of your initials into the old bark of the tree and he excitedly nodded his head. It’s been there ever since, a sign of your everlasting relationship.

• 𝐖𝐑���𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃. The blue ink decorated his skin of small cat drawings and hearts always left his heart pounding while he rolled his eyes playfully and carefully drew stars and footballs onto the back of your hand.

• 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐄. He always does this even if your with him or not, his pen idly writing down your initals on where his heart beated on his wrist and quickley covering it up on his sleeve so you or anyone else wouldn't notice it.

• 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑. It’s a must for everytime you get out the shower, his hand keeping a fair distance away from your hair while the other hand held the base of the brush, letting the bristles slowly comb through the strands of your silky hair and watching with fascination.

• 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆. He loves it so much, adores it even. When the relationship was first established, he wasn't that keen on them before he grown fond of them quickly. He can't help but smile softly to himself as he sits you down on the sofa or counter, his head laid on your chest and arms wrapped around your middle tightly, almost as if he was protecting you from the word staining your innocence with your chin on top of his head and carding through his hair.

[shuckinbeanz]

THE MATRIARCH

warnings/notes: while browsing aizawa tags, i saw a post and I Cannot Agree MORE. so without further ado, afab reader she/her, protective MILF reader who has 'a gaggle'(to keep the amount vague + Shinsou being the eldest) of kids hanging on her, shameless & fliratious reader, reader is implied to be a she-minotuar, reader has horns she's proud of and her quirk is basically herculean strength(she can bench press her kids, no sweat) and is called as such. vaguely implied reader is also an underground hero, is at least a head taller than Endeavor(for reference, ssslurp mommy 🥵), reader hooking horns heh w Endeavor bc Shoto doesn't wanna see him, implied (one of)reader's ex(es) is in prison for beating up kids. it gets SPICY at the end w dirty talk, making out, lovebites/hickeys, and its implied reader lactates. 😩 no smut tho ya'll get interrupted before it gets too heavy, and the eldest(Shinsou 😂) catches onto reader's spicy shenanigans having a rough inexplicit idea of what she does as it has happened before multiple times. thats it :3

~Masterlist~

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream, plus a shameless tag for @laseracronym w permission ofc. MILF reader, prolly not exactly what you had in mind bc i have a size kink sry 🤤

"Get out of my way, woman-bovine." Endeavor growls up at you, turquoise hues ablaze. "Beat it, Endeavor. Respect the boys space." you huff down at him angrily, engaged in a battle of intimidation with the Pro; neither of you willing to stand down. "I know many trans men with bigger balls than you." you belittle him, "And every single one are not only dutiful husbands, but dutiful fathers." you jab. He snarls. "I've no damn in the world what you think you know." he strikes back, "Don't you have better things to do, such as be a mother? Perhaps a good wife? Go home. Make your husband dinner." his words making your blood boil.

"Oh, I'd almost forgotten. He's in Tartarus." venom drips in his words. "Yeah, I personally put that bastard there because he was a child-beater, like you." you moo with greater poison. That pisses him off a right way. His quirk flares, fire inches away from your skin, yet you hold your ground for the boy, your maternal instinct raging as you tilt your head; a silent threat to beat your horns into him, your livid gaze never leaving his.

Ever since you reached adulthood, you carried that instinct, having unofficially adopted hundreds, through your years. And to the offspring of many of them, you had become a godmother of sorts. And while your maternal instinct was strong, so too was the desire for your own children, which you have a whole gaggle of now, the majority of whom were being given a grand tour of the school you were currently visiting.

"Now beat it. Before you do something you will end up regretting, hero." you mercilessly lash at his obsession. You and him both know just how well you played the law. If he gave into his temper and gave you a reason to strip him of his career and shove him in prison, no matter how small, you would not hesitate to.

He glares daggers at you, growling under his breath. You glare back fearlessly, unblinking. Eventually, he snarls in distaste, turning on his heel and strutting away.

You squint at his back in disgust as he rounds the corner. With him gone, you're off to the training grounds, the Todoroki junior trailing behind you. As someone who worked underground, you were invited to U.A High School to impart your knowledge to the up and coming first-years, spending a day with each class.

The first one up for bid? The infamous 1-A. You read up on them ahead of time.

"The Matriarch. Quirk, herculean strength. She's taking time out of her busy schedule to teach you lot some lessons." Aizawa drones.

"Whoa, you're huge!" one of them, Kaminari, exclaims in what you recognized as awe, though he was hounded by his fellow classmates for his choice of words. "You look so cool, miss!" Kirishima exclaimed.

The class's boisterous praise had you guffawing proudly. When you said you could carry three of them on each horn and four on each arm, they were hasty in playfully goading you to prove it.

Suffice to say, they had a swell time using you as a jungle gym, only to be flung in a playful rough housing manner to the safety mats. They each had their turn sparring with you, and you pointed out their weak points and gave advice on how to better deal with villains who had a strength-based quirk.

You expertly wore the teens down, who were settled on the mats, conversing with eachother while you gave Aizawa a rundown on what might be improved and where for each of his students.

"Miss Matriarch!" one of them calls, "What would you do in a fight against our teacher?!" the rest enthusiastically uproaring in unison, begging you to have a bout with him. Poor man sighs in exhaustion;

"Now, class, she's only here to--"

You don't miss a beat, seeing the chance to tease him for his staring earlier.

"Sure thing, no problem!" you exclaim over him, flexing your jacked arm with your signature grin. "How about it, Eraser?" you ask, bending to the taciturn man's level with a hand on your hip, giving him an eye full of your bountiful cleavage.

His eyes twitch up from what you shamelessly showed him to your gaze flatly, and a telltale twitch of his jaw; a barely-there reaction, one you do not fail to pick up on. He had a pretty good poker face, but not good enough to trick your observational skills.

"Who says an old dog can't be taught new tricks? Bull, if you ask me." you grin widely. Your words are followed by his students pleading for at least one round.

You recognize the look he gave the enthusiastic teens as you stand straight, as well as any other parent worth their salt; the look of a father not quite able to say no to his kids.

He sighs, then; a sound you recognize as affectionate, yet it may come off as annoyed to oblivious kids. "Fine. One round. One." he says, leaving no room for argument, the teenagers erupting in cheer.

You expected him to be agile considering his line of work, but oh boy, was he flexible both physically and mentally. You knew what his quirk was, and that you wouldn't amount to much with it active against you, your quirk disabled and your strength aptitude reduced by 70%.

Considering your physical routine, that'd be one kid on each horn and two on each arm, the latter depending on their overall weight. Thus, you were confident you could brute force your way through his capture weapon, depending on the moment of and how he'd get you, only if you can react quick enough.

He took each distraction you threw his way in stride, using your physical momentum against you. He didn't let you get within five feet near him more than once.

The first time you diverted his capture attempt. The second time you tried engaging in close combat, he'd sent a kick on your lower back, noting your tendency to keep your legs firm, throwing your gait off.

And just like that, in the moment of your stumble, he went for the opening; binding one of your horns and strongarming you down onto one knee, his capture weapon restraining your arms and whole torso firmly, the jerking pressure causing your ample chest to gush; something that you were prone to, your custom undersuit acting as a thirsty sponge for accidents like this, preventing it from seeping into your outerwear and causing a scene.

Damn, that was hot. You did appreciate a little manhandling, sometimes.

The teens erupt in cheer, and you laugh as the binds loosen. "Good fight, Eraserhead! Color me impressed." you praise, standing, as eager students quickly surround you. They ask questions, seek advice, and you answer to the best of your ability.

You feel his eyes on you again, and it's not long before the bell rings. "Go on now, time for lunch." you shoo the hungry teenagers towards the way of the cafeteria, met with a boisterous variety of happy to meet you's, thanks, and farewells as they rush off.

You wave until the last of them exit the gym. "Hey, Eraser." you call impishly, looking over your shoulder. "How about we steal away time to ourselves, hm?" you offer flirtatiously, sauntering up to him. "Shameless." he huffs, amused.

You giggle, bending to his height, checking him out. "Says the man who's been ogling me all day. What, thinkin' about putting your babies in me?" you whisper in his ear, feeling him up. He chuckles; it's a deep, hot, breathless sound.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he teases you back, tugging your collar. "Oh, I'd love to, handsome." you reply coyly. Anything between that and relocating to a more discreet area nearby is a haze, nothing on your mind except him.

Him, propped on one of your thick thighs, his back and your knee pressed firmly against the wall to make up for the massive difference in height, all but shoving your long, smooth tongue down his throat. Cheeky bastard was asking for it, holding onto your horns in an attempt to keep his hands to himself.

Your hands held onto his thigh and hip. You pull away, leaving him panting. "So pretty." he moans, deep and sexy, gasping when you dive for his neck, "Fuck, 'm sensitive there--" pushing your thumb into his mouth.

You suckle, lick, nip; leaving hickeys behind. A few in, you hear the distant footsteps of your eldest approaching, as he tugs your shirt with urgency. "Wait, someone's-" "Yeah." you grin, giving him a quick peck before easing him back down onto his feet.

He exhales, turning his back to the door to take a moment to regain composure. One of your younger children barges right in, followed by the rest of them. "Mama, tour's over! U.A is sooo biig!" they exclaim in awe. "Is it, now?" you grin widely.

Your eldest comes in last, an absolute carbon copy of his late father, his face glued to the phone, your youngest propped on his hip. He glances up over the rest of the gaggle he's tasked with helping take care of and watch over, to you, then to your next conquest.

"Mom." he lowers his phone, incredulous. "Again? And with him?" he starts off in disbelief. "Whatever do you mean, Shin?" you brush it off, messing his hair with your palm, to which the teenager, like teenagers do, curls his lip and weakly swats you away. "You're my son. You'll understand when you're older." you tell him confidently.

As the youngers start to complain about being hungry, you glance over your shoulder to Aizawa. "My number's already on file. Call me." you tell him. "Mom." your eldest starts to protest, the youngers debating what they wanted to eat. "Poor baby." you coo at him, ushering the gaggle out. "It's you who wanted, and I quote," "MOM--" "One. Hundred. Siblings!" you exclaim dramatically and he groans in annoyance as you bring up that memory-something that, much to his embarrassment, you'll never stop teasing him with.

But you had a motherly inkling Shinsou is similar to how you were in your youth, instincts still in development-the desire leaning on siblings instead of babies. Or, in Shinsou’s case, what would be your grandbabies. Though it was far too soon for that.

Speaking of babies, you idly wondered how Shota's would come out.

Oh, were you fully looking forward to his call.