#never mind the not really taking care of him so he has become my responsibility

[lightlycareless]

An almost 10k piece but it's finally here, the toji fic continuation/conclusion. Ngl I'm really excited because after this I can literally write anything domestic with him—not that I needed to do so, but it kind of made sense in my mind lmao.

Anyways, I do recommend reading these two works (how it all started) (prior to this) (and an alternate ending.) beforehand to understand a bit more what is going on. Also, this is the official opening of a Toji category in my masterlist hahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!! Sorry for breaking the Naoya streak 🥹 I'll be back to him soon enough :)

Now, the warnings: angst. mentions of infidelity. self-harm. tiny mentions of naoya/reader. y/n is very miserable and toji pitiful. sorry :( and I apologize too if there are errors in my writing 🥹 or if Toji seems too ooc. It just needed to work this way.

Happy reading!

You never officially accepted Toji into your apartment, but you’ve long given up trying to push him away. Because whenever you thought yourself successful in doing so, he’d simply come back… more persistent than ever!

But it wasn’t all bad. In fact, the notion that he hadn’t become a burden since he arrived is something that elates you, for the last thing you needed was more problems pertaining to the Zen’in, a family you had strictly barred from being spoken of in your house…

Which Toji was more than happy to oblige to; he wasn’t too fond of them anyways before you came into his life, so this was the perfect agreement.

It didn’t mean there wasn’t moments where your curiosity got the best of you, where your mind wandered to your ex-husband, to the man you swore to love ‘till the rest of your life, wondering what he was doing, if he was missing you—

“You’re not allergic, are you?” Toji asks, snapping you out of your thoughts and back to the plate before you, his attempt of setting up the table.

“To what?”

“Mushrooms.” He says. “They’re in what we’re eating today.”

“…No. Not that I know of.”

“Good, then eat as much as you or the baby want.”

One of the main things you rarely worried about as of lately was food. Toji simply… decided it would be his responsibility, and has been doing a god job at that, even if most of the time it was just take out—cooking isn’t one of his strengths, but you suppose you couldn’t complain considering your precarious situation.

…

…

He didn’t need to do any of those things. Anything, really. There was never a necessity for him to seek you out and pretend to care for you. The relationship the two had back in the estate was practically nonexistent, whatever there was it was simply established out of convenience, what one could get out of the other… and you intended to keep it that way: your husband was the one you wanted.

But then, Toji was the only one to reach out to you after hell broke loose. Suddenly so interested in your and the baby’s well-being, without any apparent reason, was… eerie, to say the least. Almost too good to be true.

Yet, above all, it was painful. Because his actions only served to constantly remind you of the one you lost.

Question if you had perhaps… overreacted to Naoya’s cold words.

It wouldn’t be the first time the love of your life was pressured by his family to do things he didn’t want to. Say things he wouldn’t normally say to you.

That… that would make sense, wouldn’t it? It was simply more logical to assume that he’d never throw away all the years the two spent together… willingly, that is. That had to be the undeniable truth!

Or perhaps… not? Maybe he did believe that, wholeheartedly; and now desired to stay away from you for good—

Because if he thought otherwise, don’t you think he would’ve contacted you already? Try to make amends?

Oh, but how could you think that if you essentially disappeared? Hiding in some remote place of Japan in hopes of never being found…

There’s only one way to get the answers you desperately sought, and that would be contacting him. Reaching out for Naoya and giving him a chance to explain himself. Maybe it was all an misunderstanding, the foils of people that had always want nothing but your downfa—

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

You blink, once more being pulled back to reality and to the somewhat unwanted presence of the man before you.

You notice a prominent frown on his face, one that makes you believe he was trying to read your mind, as if that would ever be possible.

However, your assumption wasn’t that far off. In the short time the two have lived together Toji has gotten increasingly better in discerning whenever you were getting too deep into your own thoughts, and subsequently get you out of them before it got too… serious.

He could only imagine what went through that mind of yours—once a cheerful woman that brightened any room she walked in, now dimmed down to nothing less than a shadow of who she was.

Toji doesn’t question that whatever it is that you might be conjuring up isn’t good. Unfortunately, he won’t find out once you decide to postpone this train of thought to another day.

When it’s too late.

Toji doesn’t like pressuring topics. He’s always been the kind of person to not bother with trivial matters and just let things flow their natural way; if they end up biting him back later, that is something his future self will deal with.

However, that is not a privilege he can afford with your pregnancy, which you’ve profoundly refused to discuss with him. He doesn’t know if you plan on keeping it or not, and he supposes his opinion doesn’t really weigh in on your consideration, but that doesn’t mean he’d leave you to your luck.

Toji does not falter when it comes to keeping up with your growing needs. If you need a new blanket, or if there’s a new craving he needs to consider this time around, he’s on top of the situation as soon as it occurs.

Just because he didn’t have the same financial liberties as his annoying cousin doesn’t mean he wasn’t creative. He’d find a way, he always did, to get what he wanted.

Except when it came to convincing you into taking it easier. In other words…

“—you’re pregnant. You should spend most of your time resting.” He’d urge you once more, but you—still not keen on his presence around your modest home—take your work as your only means to escape your reality. “Or at least take lesser shifts… too much stress will harm you and the baby.”

“I’m fine.” Is the response you give him every single time the topic is brought up. Paying him no mind as you continue to do whatever it is that you enjoyed doing during your leisure time: reading, watching tv, or a simple nap.

Perhaps if the context behind your pregnancy was different, Toji would’ve found your stubbornness quite endearing. He might’ve even gotten to enjoy the fact that he was to become a father too! The idea never thrilled him in the past if he was being honest, but after getting a small taste of a domestic life with you, alongside the feeling of being wanted, he ended up liking it.

And what wasn’t there to like about having a home to return to? With people that look forward to see him, although the mother didn’t seem to appreciative of his presence yet… it was definitely an upgrade from the estate that cruelly demeaned him.

“Do you need anything from outside? I’m leaving soon.”

“No.” you respond curtly, he sighs. Well, at least you responded this time around.

“I’ll be back, then. Don’t do anything dangerous—and if you need anything you can always call me or Shiu. But I made sure everything is restocked beforehand.”

“Where are you going?” you ask, and this would be the first time he doesn’t openly indulge you, because he supposes you wouldn’t like the answer.

Why?

Because he’s going to the Zen’in estate.

As it was stated before, just because he was a man of limited resources, doesn’t mean he didn’t have options to go through. And one of those options led him to his old home. The Zen’in riches were vast, surely they wouldn’t notice the absence of a few things here and there, like clothes, cleaning supplies, even food, amongst other things he could still get a good mileage out of.

His visits there were always short and straight to the point. Toji’s hatred for them would continue to exist as long as he’s alive, more so after the horrible things they’ve done to you.

Yet, he never thought it possible for his disdain towards them to grow even stronger until he was proven wrong that very same day, after one of his relatives approaches him, handing him a white envelope that takes a lot of his willpower to not laugh at their ridiculous attempt of courtesy—

Or snap upon reading its contents.

“What is the meaning of this?” Toji breathes, his fingertips crumpling the edges of the paper.

“Is it not obvious?”

“Did you really expect me to care?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, it was only a formality.” The other responds. “Though no one really expected you to come since there’s rumors of your new… occupation.”

“If you dare do anything with that information, I’ll personally deal with you.” Even when being the black sheep of the family, the punching bag for their frustrations, there are still some that recognize his true power and do well in keeping their distance—just the right amount to keep instigating him but never to the point of crossing him. Toji often wishes they’d stop all together, but he supposes he can’t have everything in life. “Whatever, this is just garbage to me.”

“As I said, it was only a formality.”

“Yeah, right—whatever.” Toji says, quickly stowing away the envelope into his jacket with intentions of throwing it away once he got out of that wretched place, which he did so soon after, hoping to leave all this behind and get it done with.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that quite yet, not when the burden of the enveloped inside his jacket still weighed heavy on his mind. Toji had no interest in the affairs of the estate, on what the members decided or not to do, but… really? And so soon too?

It was clear to him that this is something you should never learn about. Not about his visits and certainly not about this.

He’ll take it to his grave, it’s the least he could do to preserve this small happiness he’s found.

Though it’s not what receives him once arriving at your apartment. There, just a few steps away from the entrance, you are scowling at him, arms crossed as you prepare to reproach him about his prolonged absence—all that was missing was the impatient tapping your foot and you’d be the epitome of an anxious wife.

How… endearing, he chuckles. At his unamusing response, your frown deepens.

“Where were you?” you ask once he begins to perch his coat at the nearby hanger. Toji barely had time to remove his shoes when you were already bombarding him with more questions. “At what time did you expect to return? Midnight??”

“What, worried about me?” Toji teases back, taking a deep sigh before looking up to you. You were already in your pajamas, it somewhat explains your behavior.  “You know I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not what I meant, you’re just later than usual. If you’re going to live here then you must at least let me know if you’re going to be late, I was about to lock the door.”

“I’ll just make my way in if you do.” Toji responds, attempting to thread back one unruly strand of hair behind your ear, stopping him when you move away. “Or you can give me a copy of the keys.”

“I’d rather you not, the last thing I need is the neighbors becoming even nosier than they already are.”

“Sounds like a good reason to give me keys.” He insists once more, like he’s always done after the few first days of living with you.

But you’ll only continue to reject him, briefly twisting your lips before turning around and heading back into your bedroom, effectively terminating the conversation and leaving Toji on his own—as these situations often went by.

A part of him wishes that by now your… behavior towards him might’ve eased up a bit. He’s not asking you to do a 180 and act as if the two were best friends since forever, but at least give him some consideration when it comes to all he’s done for the apartment and you…

It’s disheartening to see that everything remains essentially the same since the first day, if it hadn’t worsened already…

And yet, just when he was about to give up, hope is rekindled withing him upon seeing the small plate set up on the table, served with food that is undoubtedly cold by now, but its intentions still remain clear. It was for him.

You had put aside a plate for him in case he returned for dinner. The first time you’ve ever done so.

No wonder you were angry, he essentially stood you up!

And the thought alone of your attempts to get along is enough to have all silly ideas of your rejection thrown out the window, taking the plate to the microwave as he giddily reflects how you’ve grown a soft spot for him. Because small as it was, it was still there.

«All that, and she actually likes me, doesn’t she?»

Maybe. Might be more of tolerating that actual enjoyment, but it’s an advancement he’s willing to take to heart, enough to have him in a great mood for the rest of the night as he sits down to enjoy his meal and watch some tv—forgetting all about his visit to the estate, that dreaded envelope he’s forgotten to throw away before arriving to the apartment, and instead, inspire him to do something different.

Something involving the two, for a change.

Consider it as a token of his appreciation.

Or the calm before the storm.

Toji spent quite a lot of time shaping out everything. It was very surprising in fact to look back on his intricate itinerary knowing he was the one who made it. But it shouldn’t come off that shocking, he’s always been the type of person to achieve whatever he sets his mind to.

Guess it really boils down to being capable of putting aside his needs in favor of others. Yours.

All he planned for the day was with your enjoyment in mind, though mostly because of his ignorance when it came to your preferences. One would think that considering the time he’s spent living with you he ought to know something.

But reality was that he barely knew anything—like the places you like to frequent, if there are any restaurants you considered your favorites, or parks you’d like to take a stroll on from time to time…

What little he knew came from your time at the estate, when you were still in the good graces of Naoya and in the receiving end of his fortune. There was not a day where an expensive gift didn’t grace your attention, high end brands alongside names he’s never even heard of that Toji could only dream of affording.

So yeah, it was intimidating. But he tried his best anyways, so the program ended up going something like this:

First, he’d pick you up from work. It’s his day off so it’s not like he has anything else to do, but beyond that, he wants to do it. It’s… quite a nice gesture to do, right? Besides, he’s always wanted to see where you actually worked.

From there, get something to eat. He always ends up starving after work so he supposes that for a pregnant woman that must be no different. There are a few options he’s set aside near your job, but if you wish to go somewhere a bit further to disconnect, he can also do that.

Later on is when his options branch out more. The two could either go to a park to wind down, watch a movie, or even go to the mall. Do some shopping he thinks you might enjoy… or even start looking into a nursery.

Your current apartment is quite small, having only 1 bedroom and a somewhat humble living room/kitchen he’s transformed into a bedroom of sorts, which would’ve been more than enough for one person, but for the family of 3 you were to become, that was not appropriate.

Which is the other thing he wished to go through today. After a series of side jobs there’s no real need for you to know of, he’s gotten enough for a deposit in one of the new places he’s set his eyes on.

Sure, moving onto a much nicer apartment might demand a few restraints from both when it comes to financial decisions, but ultimately the benefits outweighed the sacrifices; by doing so, you’d be in an area where your commute wouldn’t take up to 30 mins before seeing the faintest semblance of urbanism.

What you have right now is certainly not what he’d consider ideal for the mother of his child. In case of an emergency, there’s only some family-owned pharmacy to rely on. The nearest hospital is all the way down to the city!

But even if the places were not up to your expectations Toji would still make it work.

Because he’s been in your shoes, he’s got you under his skin: understanding all too well what it is to need help and have everyone turn their back on you.

It’s a dreadful, empty sensation he never wants to experience again, less on woman he’s slowly become more and more fond of by each passing day.

Ironic to think that the man many considered ruthless had become putty in your hands. And how could he not, after having a taste of what it is to be… needed? Alongside your small attempts to get along with him, or so that’s how he perceives the moments you’re not outright rejecting him.

The same ones that motivated him to keep doing his best, as well as be more approachable in his posture. Toji’s aware that his façade isn’t quite the softest one out there, but at least he’s not ugly! That ought to amount to something, right? More so if he plans to win you over like that too…

Either way, regardless of what is to happen down the line or now, Toji gets thrilled at the prospect of spending time with you. Hoping to finally see one of those adorable smiles he always loved to catch when no one was seeing—

But unfortunately, his expectations would stray off in a completely different direction once arriving at your work to learn that you weren’t there anymore. You hadn’t been there, in fact, for quite some time now. Apparently, there were days where you’d leave early just because. Naturally your workplace wasn’t to disclose that kind of personal information to anyone, less to a complete stranger in their eyes.

Seems you hadn’t bothered to tell them about him… but it’s fine. They’re not people he cares for either, so he doesn’t let it affect him much.

Your early departure instead makes Toji wonder where you’ve gone. He never really noticed your little habit since you always came back to the apartment at the same time, but he can’t help but hopefully assume you were ok. Already on way to home, actually. If he’s quick enough he might even catch you at the train station—which he better do if he hopes to continue with his carefully detailed itinerary.

Yet, as he arrived through all possible places where you could be, scanning them only to realize you were nowhere to be found…

Toji grows a bit worried. Anxious as he rushes back to the apartment, where he finds the door open but the premises void of your presence.

It’s a small place, there’s no way he’d miss a spot—it’s not like you were hiding underneath the bed or in the closet. Too silly, that doesn’t sound like you either way.

But what does sound like you, however, is the necessity to have everything neatly organized. From the cabinets to the few plants outside the window, you always made sure that everything was to your visual liking.

Such as his so-called bedroom, apparently having folded his clothes and set them on the edge of the couch to make use of it, he assumes.

… Even the jacket he wore that day to the estate, the same one that harbored that damning envelope he had forgotten of in favor of thinking about you.

Which now laid open, crinkled, on the living room floor, with its contents available for anyone around to see.

Just one second of observing the scene, just one moment was all that Toji needed to understand what had occurred. What your curious nature had unwittingly pushed you into, his heart dropping to his stomach once the gravity of the situation finally hits him.

Soon after, he turns around, sprints past the door and begins to scour for you. Exasperatedly calling for your name, looking from one side of the neighborhood to the other, even asking the nearby unsuspecting passers of your whereabouts in hopes they’d have a lead, only to remain empty handed.

Each second that passed his worries just grow stronger, like a ticking bomb, his mind was only conjuring the worst scenarios your knowledge of that situation could evoke—

But none could compare to the one he concluded after a neighbor gave him his much-needed answers.

Or more like torments.

“I think I saw her—the woman you’re talking about.” They said, Toji’s heart quickens. Clenching his grasp as he swallows. “She looked very agitated while going to the nearby pharmacy before heading to the forest—”

No.

Nononononono

No.

“To the hills?” Toji scowls. “And you didn’t stop her?!”

“I—I didn’t think I needed to! She’s always been… reserved, you know? She doesn’t even salute us when passing by; so, I just thought she wanted to be alone—”

Toji didn’t have time to waste trying to make sense of a selfish fool that couldn’t see what you were horrifyingly planning to do. Instead, he cuts through their conversation and rushes to the forest, following the small trail which he hoped you took and find you before it was too late.

Before you took one more step towards the cliff, which he could easily see you were still determining to do or not given the fixed gaze you had upon it, and the tight grip you had on the small boxes of medicine.

The only two options you had to deal with the dreadful news of the estate. The only ones your broken heart could think of.

“Y/N—Now, let’s not do anything irrational—” Toji begins, stopping just a few feet away to not startle you, but close enough to react in case…

“How long have you known?” you breathe, eyes still on the edge.

“I don’t think it matt—”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” You shriek, snapping your head back to him. He already imagined so, but the look of your reddened eyes and soaked cheeks only shows how much pain you were truly in.

How much love you still harbored for the one that wronged you.

And how little importance he had in your life.

“How long have you known that Naoya is getting married?”

Toji swallows, he had to be extra careful with his words because at the minimal miscalculation this could very mean your decision. But at the same time, to see you so afflicted by his ungrateful cousin… he…

“You weren’t supposed to.” Toji responds honestly. “I… didn’t think it was necessary considering all that happened.”

“And who gave you the authority to decide that? What made you think I needed your consideration?!”

“I just thought it would be the best for you, you are pregnant with my—"

“Oh, the best for me.” You mock with a laugh. “Of course you’re only doing the best for me! How could I forget the way you essentially forced your way into my life when I didn’t even want you near me! It was all because of your miserable self that I got—I got stuck with you!”

But even if your words hurt him far more than any pain he’s ever experienced by his own family, he pushes through the ringing of his ears and seeks for your safety first.

“Y/N, please, let’s—let’s have this conversation in a… safer area.” Toji cautions upon seeing you take a step closer to the cliff, so his paranoia made him believe. “It’s cold, and you’re probably hungry too, let’s come back hom—"

“You never really cared for me, did you? All of the things you’ve done… it was only because you want to get revenge on Naoya, isn’t it?! It’s always been that, since the very. First. Day.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Y/N. You know I rarely had contact with him, he was the one always looking for me like a stray dog!”

“Don’t insult—”

“And you knew too how much I loathed that place.” He continues. “If I could, I would’ve left a long time ago.”

“But you didn’t anyways, right? Because you were searching for the perfect way to get back at them!” you gasped. “And you—you found that opportunity in me!”

Toji should’ve felt great offense at your accusing words, more so since they were incredibly one-sided and void of any semblance of truth—his truth.

But instead, all that he felt was an inundated sense of sadness at the realization that the preconceived notions of his family had made way to you too. Completely overruling your once sweet demeanor with the cruelness he had been all too acquainted with throughout his whole life.

Was he cursed to never do anything right?

Never be happy?

Did it even matter… to try anymore?

…

…

…

“Is that what you think of me?” he softly asks, you frown at his incredulous belief. “I would never do that to you. Not you.”

Not once he’s realized how much he’s changed for you.

But his words only served to further stir the fire within you.

“It’s because of you that I’m stuck with this damned—thing!”

The crude way you refer to his unborn child hurts his heart in inexplicable ways he doesn’t believe he’s ever experienced before; but yet again, it shows that not even his offspring is safe from the torment he was promised since the moment he was born.

His steel front begins to chirp at your indifference, as felt in the knot in his throat at the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. And the shatter of his heart.

“Because of you—Naoya is… Naoya is going to marry that woman.”  The one from a prestigious, powerful clan; the type of person that while you never imagined the Zen’in would like as future Lady of the House, it’s clear by a quick comparison that she was a much better candidate: rich, strong, beautiful…

You could never hold a candle to her, much less in your current situation, that much is obvious now.

Officially, heart wrenchingly so, you’ve lost your husband.

Forever.

And all because of Toji’s selfish desires—

“Please, let’s just go home; you can do anything you want to me. Scream, cry, hit me, hate me, anything you want.” He pleads.  “Just get away from the edge, please."

“I have no home.” You respond. “I lost it the moment I… I got involved with you.”

He knew their relationship had been rocky since the very beginning, but he never thought it was this bad. Maybe because a part of him hoped that after all the time the two spent together you would’ve… softened up a bit.

Perhaps not to the same extent as his, but at least… be careful enough to not spew all those poisonous words that only inched the knife of your indifference deeper and deeper into his heart.

Guess that was all on his mind.

“I hate you.” You suddenly declare. “I really do.”

“You don’t mean that.” Toji responds immediately after, his last attempts to gather the pieces of his ruptured heart before they completely disappeared. “You’re just angry.”

“No.” you double down. “You don’t know how much I hate seeing you around the apartment, doing all those stupid things just to appear a good person when we both know you aren’t! When because of you I’ve become worthless to— to my husband…! Because of this thing that I’m carrying!

…

…

…

If I—I could only get rid of it then maybe—then maybe Naoya will want me back. If so, I will do whatever it takes so it happens.” You begin to spiral, suddenly revealing your intentions in this place and making Toji’s eyes widen.

“What are you planning to do, Y/N?” He breathes. “You don’t—you don’t have to do anything. Not like this. Not when we can still talk and figure it out!”

“I can get my old life back with this thing out of the way, my marriage, my house, my—my love—" you begin to tremble, the faintest possibility of being back in Naoya’s arms is enough to put a smile on your face, if just for a moment.

Live in the fantasy that he hadn’t moved on from you. Like he hadn’t set eyes on someone else as soon as he made ease of his turmoiled heart.

Even if it had been by force, through matters of his clan that he was tasked to get married again, the truth remained the same: Naoya didn’t seek you out. He didn’t put up a fight to stop you from leaving nor defend your honor. He didn’t even try pushing his family’s overbearing ways back.

He simply took what was given to him, showing that he cared little next to nothing for the marriage he supposedly sacrificed a lot for, and leaving you at the lowest point of your life to fend for yourself.

But if you were already rock bottom, then that meant your life could only improve from there.

A small risk to take to get back the love of your life.

The same one Toji needed to do in this precise moment, if he didn’t want to lose you either.

“Y/N, Naoya… he doesn’t want you back.” Toji suddenly says, hoping that his words would snap you out of your delusions. “And getting rid of the baby will not make any difference.”

“How would you even know that? Someone—someone as despicable as you couldn’t know a single thing about love!” you reproach. Toji swallows, taking a step closer just in case you—you… “What would someone like you know about how I feel?! About the pain I carry?!!”

Much more than you imagined.

Much, much more, since he’s become clear in his thoughts. Of his feelings.

You weren’t alone. You didn’t need to, not when he was there to support you,

When he was there to—

To…

“—love you.” Toji suddenly declares, and for the first time that evening, your thoughts come to a screeching halt, blinking as you try to understand what he just foolishly said. If he even knew what it meant. “I—I love you, Y/N.”

But you only took his words as another baseless jest to get you right where he wanted. A manipulation tactic it didn’t surprise you he’d use against you—in your most vulnerable moment too… has he got no shame?!

“Do not lie to me, after all you’ve done, after all you made me lose—the least I deserve is your honesty!”

“But I am telling the truth.” He persists. Toji has never considered himself to be quite the nervous type; he was quite the opposite, really…

Yet, when it came to facing the love of his life in attempts of saving her life…

He’d rather face a thousand curses than go through this painful ordeal any longer.

Nonetheless, he pushes through. Because a life without you is not a life worth living.

“Since our days intertwined for the very first time, you’re all I cared for.”

“Stop it, you don’t mean—you don’t know—”

“I fell in love with your smile. With the way you laughed.” He continues, taking a step closer to you at every word he professes. Toji expected you to back away, but you only stood there petrified as he began to list all your virtues, much to his elation. “With the way your eyes seem to glisten whenever eating sweets. How you play with your hair whenever deep in thought. How you like to sleep on your right side but don’t do it because of the lights coming from the window, keeping you awake.”

“I don’t want to—I don’t want to hear any more of how you’re a creep—!”

“With the way you always reproach at me, and then… still put up a plate for me on the table.” He chuckles at the memory, how bothered you looked that one night, and yet… “I’ve always thought your pout was cute, but it wasn’t until I became the reason of it that I completely fell in love with it.”

“Why are you even telling me this? What do you think you’ll get out of me?!”

“I don’t know, nothing, maybe. I guess. Besides reminding you that you’re not worthless.” Toji says. “Because to me, you’re everything.”

“That’s not—"

“It’s the truth. All of my words, every single one of them, I meant.” Toji murmurs. “You have no idea how desolate my life was until you came along. How you brightened my days with just one word; and even less than that. You just had to smile my way, and I’d stop feeling like the disgrace of the clan. Just one smile, and I’d feel human. Worthy. Like I mattered.”

You wished to snap back, but the shocking, genuine nature of his declaration keeps you speechless.

“I won’t deny that my actions back then were made with a jealous intent. A craving to have what my cousin did—to have power over those that wronged me, one way or the other.

But I guess the more I spent time with you, without him, the more I began to sink. To let my thoughts unravel and wonder what it would be instead, to be cherished, loved, needed by someone as gentle as you.

I never intended things to end like this. You’re a delicate flower amongst that ocean of thorns. You, of all people, don’t deserve to go through all this suffering.

It’s why I swear to you again that I will do everything to make you happy. To give you what you need. Whatever it is, whatever you want, it’s yours, just—

Just don’t leave me.”

It’s only when he instinctively lets out a sob that he realizes how much he’s been crying, the two, in fact. Both yours and his cheeks soaked with tears at the presence of his undying love. Of his desire to be with you, through good or bad, better or worse. It didn’t matter if the two ended up in the street, barely making it through the day, and hated by everyone in the whole world…

Because as long as the two were together, that was enough to make Toji happy.

It’s what you always sought for a partner, what you always dreamed of…So why…

Why do you keep rejecting the things your heart so desperately desired to have once again?

“You can ignore me, hate me, treat me like I’m the worst person in the whole world, I can take it. I’m used to it. But don’t leave me.” He breathes, voice trembling as he finally reaches out to you, mere inches away from touching you... “If you leave me, I’ll…. I’ll do it myself too. I’ll jump down that cliff, or take whatever pills you take, to be with you. Because a life with you is… a life without meaning.”

…

…

…

“But you don’t believe me, do you?” Toji fearfully asks in response to your overwhelming silence, your refusal to acknowledge the heart he’s poured out to you. “You don’t believe anything I say—why? Why don’t you?”

Was he… was he truly that despicable? So unthinkable to believe that a man like him was capable of loving too?

Did he not go through enough punishment already?

How much more must he suffer, for the gods to leave him at peace?

Not much longer, because unknowingly to him, his words served to break you free from all that was holding you back. The refusal to accept the pain has inflicted on you, on your marriage and new reality.

On the fact that your heart has been shattered, probably in a million pieces, an occurrence that would probably take a lifetime to fix, if you ever do.

And if you somehow manage, you don’t want to risk it. You don’t want to endanger yourself;

All because you don’t—

“—don’t want to —I don’t—I don’t want to get my heart broken ag—again…!”

All the painful words you cruelly used against Toji were only results of your anger, and not your true sentiments towards him, that much he could understand once he quickly and tightly held you into his arms. Pulling you as close as he could into his embrace as you begin to cry, letting all that you’ve been holding in since your departure of the estate out.

The tears you never shed. The cries you never made.

It was all coming out. Washing over your body as it finally allowed your heart to heal for the first time.

“I won’t do that to you, I swear.” He breathes against your hair; you sob once more.

“Please—please don’t do this to me.” You beg. “I can’t—I won’t be able to take it again!”

“I won’t.” He repeats. “I will never let any pain hurt you ever again.”

And thus, your new life begins.

It took some time and great effort, but with enough patience and understanding, your perspective of him finally began to change.

Now, while you still had a long way to go to completely welcome him into your life, at least you no longer treated him with disdain.

Your mornings would begin with greetings to him, simple questions of if there’s something he desired to eat while you got breakfast ready, as well as good wishes wishes on his commute to work—if he didn’t accompany you to your own job, that is, which you eventually left once your pregnancy symptoms (and Toji’s endless persistence) were too much to handle.

But perhaps the most important improvement was your willingness to give him a copy of your apartment keys—or more like your keys, but the intentions were still the same, nonetheless. Toji almost pinched himself at the moment, if you hadn’t scolded him for being too silly.

“Really? For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Toji teases, you frown.

“Just take them before I regret it. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to use them anyways…”

It happened so when you decided to continue with your pregnancy.

Regardless of how it came to be, and after much consideration… there’s no use in hiding the fact you’ve always wanted a family. A little baby to call your own, in a house you can decorate to your liking, with someone that would always be by your side to support you.

And everything seemed to be aligning just where you wanted. Not only for you, but for him too.

Toji had gotten a better job, one that afforded you a calm, work-free life, as well as a new apartment, one that promised to ease all of your constant fears of someone breaking in, as well as the proximity of all services you might come to use now with the baby.

You still couldn’t believe how it happened. That it even did.

Just one day, coincidentally the last one you were to work, Toji decided to pick you up and bring you along for some errands—little did you know, he was planning on showing you the new place you’d call home.

“Toji, this is—but the things—”

“They’re already here. I moved them all while you were at work.” He explains, your mouth falls wide open. “Nice, huh? Definitely an improvement.”

“Yeah...”

“And it’s all ours.”

It was hard for you to keep acting coldly as you always had towards him; definitely so after the gift he’d just given you. It just… wasn’t right for you to remain motionless, you needed to repay him for all his kindness!

But what could you possibly give a man as mysterious as him? Toji was… enigmatic, to say the least. And what little you knew just made your confusion regarding him grow even bigger.

Yet, if you listened carefully, remained attentive enough to his actions, you’d soon discover that he wasn’t as rough as he appeared to be. In fact, he was quite the softie when it came to be, and with the most unsuspecting thing too.

Yes, he had normal pastimes, like hanging out with that one friend of his, Shiu was his name? Though he seemed a bit more of an acquaintance, or even a coworker, than anything else. Gambling was another, or so you learned from Shiu, though it seems he’s stopped according to the same man. “—thanks to his new responsibility.”

Which circles you back to the first point.

Beneath that intimidating, cold exterior he always professed, Toji genuinely liked the prospect of being a father. From the way his gaze lingered at the baby department whenever passing by, or how he was always attentive to your needs…

There was not a person that eagerly awaited this baby more than him—you even overheard it so during the moments he thought you asleep, on those nights when your discomfort was too much to ignore and such, Toji remained by your side; keeping you company until slumber finally took over. Or at least distract you.

He carefully placed his hand over your protruding belly, sighing as he began to talk to the baby, the still nameless life he never expected to become so fond of, as if it could respond. Well, he just needed to wait a few months if that’s what he wanted, but he’d probably regret it when the kid turns out to be nothing short of a babbling mess.

Until then, he’d confide in his child his deepest desires, one in particular catching your attention and what you ultimately pursue to show just how much he’s begun to mean to you.

“The baby—it’s a boy.” The nurse soon declared once you’ve gone through all the strenuous, agonizing endeavor that arrival of your baby was.

You thought you were prepared for it, took endless classes and courses for it, mentalized that it was going to hurt… just never to this extent. The moment your water broke all that you had learned was wiped out of your memory, anxiety soon taking a hold of your emotions—

However, if it weren’t for Toji’s presence, his attempt of comforting words you unwittingly dismissed by shrieking at him.

“Shut up! You’re not the one pushing a goddamn baby out of your body!”

To which he laughs in response, because he finds your words amusing, or because he needed a way to take out his stress before he turned delirious with concern…

You wouldn’t have made it. You wouldn’t be where you were right now, exhausted, sweaty, but with your child in your arms.

An adorable baby boy that just by a glance you could already see whom he’d look like the most.

“Y/N.” Toji calls. He spent hours and hours daydreaming of this moment, of finally seeing the child he made with you—but when it finally came… he couldn’t lift his gaze from you. From the breathtaking sight of the family, his family, he’s sworn to cherish and protect.

From the love in your eyes as you admired the little baby boy he just knew would be a troublemaker, yet, still inheriting your kindness. Probably the only thing he’d get from you as you noted.

“He has your hair.” You say, cutting through his thoughts. “And… your eyes. Your face too.”

“I’m sure he has something of you.” He chuckles, leaning closer to you to get a good look at his child, realizing you weren’t lying. “You did well, Y/N. I was so afraid that something would happen to you, but you were brave and strong, like I always knew you were capable of”

“Toji…” you murmur, voice trembling at his words. Maybe you were just sensitive after all you endured; or perhaps… you’ve opened up to him, finally. “I was so, so frightened…”

“I know, but it’s over now. You can rest.” He continued. “And once you wake up, we’ll be here, waiting for you. To go home.”

Your lip spreads into a small smile, giving him a quick chuckle before sighing.

Finally, all of it, the sleepless nights, the random cravings, the unbearable aches, were over.

Kind of, the real struggle was only beginning.

But none of it mattered once you looked back at your lovely boy once more and realized it had all been worth it.

Your life with Megumi—a name you chose to show your appreciation for Toji, which he was elated to hear as seen in the twinkle of his eye—alongside his father, is one you couldn’t wait to see.

You knew Megumi was fated to look just like his father the moment he was born, but his growing similarities were simply ridiculous. Was it fair that he was an exact copy of him, after 9 months of carrying him?

Probably not. But you only excuse him because he’s too darn adorable! Though your amusement didn’t go without precautions, which Toji always denied.

“You should stop scowling around Megumi, Toji.” You begin. “He’s picking up your bad habits…”

“Scowling? I don’t scowl.” He retorts, a smile on his face as he does the same thing he refused doing. “Whatever the brat does isn’t my fault.”

“Don’t call him that.” You pout. “He has a beautiful name you should use more often.”

He does, he silently agrees. Heart fluttering whenever hearing you call him the miracle he was always meant to be. Or when remembering you’d given him such honor.

…

It’s these little things that always have him questioning where he stands in your heart.

And while he promised to always be with you, beyond what he feels for you simply because that’s what a real man does, a part of him still hoped that maybe, just… maybe, you’ve grown fond of him. More than the father of your child, like a possible partner to rely on too.

But he won’t push you. Because he understands that you’ve been through enough emotional turmoil for him to simply barge in and demand an answer from you.

Was it too much to ask?

No. Because you were very aware of the wrongdoings you’ve committed at the beginning of your story with him, plaguing your mind every second of the day, trying your best to make it up to him but failing to find the right way to do so.

Or more like the courage, for your shame often rendered you speechless in the quiet, private moments between the two when it would’ve been the perfect time to do so.

But it comes. In the most unexpected way too, on Megumi’s first birthday, which he coincidentally planned all by himself—by overshadowing your attempts, a spirit of competition ignites that day, but that’s a story for another time.

“The brat likes that weird show… the one that airs early in the morning, doesn’t he?” Toji asks as soon as you enter the apartment, helping you with the bags in your hands, filled with decorations and balloons for the small birthday party you planned to throw for your baby—though that was no longer necessary given his efforts.

“Toji…” you murmur, he quietly apologizes. “But yeah, he does.”

“Good, ‘cause that’s the cake I got him.”

“A… cake?” you blink, startled to see the big white box on the table, Toji opening it soon after and revealing a cake inside—themed of Megumi’s favorite show of the moment, just as he said.  “Isn’t that… much for just the three of us? And Megumi can’t even eat that yet—and did you do all this??”

“Seems more than enough for us, wouldn’t you agree? Or are you no longer a sweet tooth?”

But you don’t respond, still… trying to take in what was happening before you.

“…I just thought it would be nice for the kid’s first birthday. To celebrate it. Though most of these things early on in his life only tend to matter to the parents since they don't even know what their name is.” Toji adds. “…What I mean to say is that if you don’t want it, we can still—”

“No, no. I… I’m just thinking of all the things I have to return now that you... won me at it.”

“We can use them next year or spend the cash on something else.”

“Gambling?” you raise an eyebrow.

“You know I don’t do that anymore, princess.” He chuckles. “Maybe that family photo session you wanted. Or something nice for you.”

“You need new clothes.” you quip back. “We could start there.”

“That wouldn’t be the case if you didn’t steal all of them when you7 were pregnant."

“Ah, so now it’s my fault?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirks. “Would a slice of cake make up for my insulting mistake?”

“…maybe.”

“Then get Megumi ready while I take care of everything else.”

“Yeah, I’ll… I guess I’ll do that.” Yet, as determined as you seemed to be on picking up Megumi, a soft smile on your lips as you cooed at him, telling him if he was ready to celebrate his first birthday and oh, how exciting it was going to be with all the presents he got…

Your mind was nowhere near him.

It remained on Toji. On what his actions had stirred inside you once more since the moment he gave you the new apartment.

Since he held you close the day you decided to end it all. After he comforted you after a rough night of cold tears and never-ending aches, never leaving your side even when you continuously pushed him away.

Once he gave you the last piece of pizza, the one he always ate, just in case you were still hungry. Or how he didn’t mind when you stole his hoodies, all of them really, just because they were warmer and… because you liked his scent, how it calmed you.

How everything about him soothed you. Even those not so quiet snores you couldn’t sleep without now.

As you recounted these moments, the truth unfolded before you once again. What you always knew but denied out of fear of getting hurt again.

But you could no longer hide it anymore, not when your heart was demanding you to free it. Yourself.

Him.

So, after letting little Megumi propped up in his chair, you hastily headed to the kitchen, where the only other guest of the party was overseeing the last details on the cake (such as the candle) as well as getting more napkins—his son was quite the messy eater, so they could never be too sure— stopping when hearing your approach.

“Oh, Y/N, is there something you needed? Are you ok?” Toji asks. You seemed in a hurry, distressed even; naturally, he had to worry. “Is everything alright with Megumi?”

“Yes, he’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m… not here because of him.” You slowly confess, swallowing down your nerves before looking up to him and continuing. “I just… I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asks, you press your lips together.

It was hard, no one ever promised otherwise, but this was a very necessary conversation you could no longer ignore.

So, after taking one last breath, you begin.

“That I’m—I’m sorry. For the horrible way I treated you back then. I… I had no excuse to do so, even if I was going through a hard time in my life, that was no justification for the dreadful words I used against you, or the way I diminished all that you’ve done for me.

You were always, always good to me and I… I just didn’t care because I had my own issues that I dumped onto you.” You breathe, a sob trying it’s hardest to escape your lips, breaking through anyways. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry—”

“Y/N…”

“I guess what I mean to say is… thank you, for everything. And I’m sorry, for everything too.”

“You apologize too much, you know?” Toji says before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into an embrace. You silently sniffle, taking in his warmth before returning the gesture. “You don’t need to do that; I’ve long forgiven you.”

“Ho—How? When?” you gasp, raising your gaze to him. “…why?”

“Didn’t I tell you before?” He chuckles, looking down at you before giving you one last smile. “I love you.”

And while it’s not the first time you’d heard him say so, whether subtly or bluntly, whether through words or actions…

But it is the first time you’ve smiled at his words. Accepting them into your heart, which in turn, finally pushed you to take that step and admit what you desperately needed to do so.

At least openly to him, because deep within, you already knew.

“I… love you too. I—I think, no. I know.” You say. “I know I love you too.”

Alongside their little miracle, their hearts were never empty again.

🥺

One of my followers will know who Naoya married lol. I do plan to explore that idea later on, after I finish up other requests :> hehe.

Now, I hope you enjoyed this small piece 🥹 as always, things ended up chaing a bit when I got down to write it but the tragicness of it all remained. I wanted a naive Toji that was happy to be with YN while she was stuck with Naoya still, enough so to attempt doing that.

Also, I first envisioned them declaring their feelings for one another after the birth of Megumi, but decided to change that to his first birthday eventually. Thought it was nicely paced :) enough for YN to heal and such.

Well, there you have it. One of the many things I hope to write about Toji in the future :> Thank you so much for reading it.

Now, take care, and see you soon!!

[lesbiansanemi]

I hate my roommate’s cat more and more with every passing day

[takumasheisty]

The room was heavy with arousal and the continuous slick sounds that came from his dick and your hand. It was also silent, except for the quiet whimpers than came from your adorable boyfriend.

“A-ah.. hah…”. Megumi whimpered quietly as you continued to pump his length. His pale body twitched with each stroke, especially when you focused on his pink tip.

You took your thumb and created circles on the tip as you placed chaste kisses on his neck, his most sensitive area. He whimpered and bucked his hips, as you licked each spot you kissed tenderly. His breathing was getting more ragged and unstable, and Megumi began to lean into you even more. He looked up at you with a glint of desperation in his eyes, seeming as if he’s pleading with you to let him cum.

You pumped him even faster, this time letting your tongue tease his tip gently, pulling more whimpers from him.

“F-fuck.. just.. j-just like that..” Megumi says. He grabs onto your arm to help support him, his body movements becoming less and less controlled. You take him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down as your hand massaged his heavy balls.

“Fuck, Y/N.. g-gonna.. cum..” you suck him right until his reaches his climax, his hips bucking up into your mouth, and his breathing becoming erratic.

“C-close! Ngh..!” He cries out, and you release him from your mouth, edging him. The look on his face was so adorable, his pale face flushed pink and tears threatening to fall. You smile at him seductively, and his eyes frantically search your body. Gently, you caress his thighs, and kiss up his chest.

“W-why? I was.. so close..” He questions quietly, and you almost feel bad for restricting his orgasm.

“I didn’t want the fun to end, ‘gumi. Promise I’ll let you cum.” You assure him, and he leans back on his hands. “You look so adorable when you’re at my mercy you know?”

He looks away, almost ashamed even though he loves it. He loves when you take control of him. He loves when you decide when he gets to cum, but he’ll never admit that.

“s’ mean.. you’re so mean to me Y/N..” he complains like a child who had gotten their candy taken from them. He sighs and looks away from your captivating gaze, which admires his face.

“But you like it. Don’t you like when I’m a little mean Megumi?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you gently graze your fingertips over his abs.

“Okay. Let’s try something different.” You propose.

“What if we used a toy to make you cum, you know, since you wanna cum really bad.” Your tone has a slight edge of condescension in it, but his eyes light up at your words. He slowly sits up on his hands, nervous at what you had in mind.

“W-what toy..?”

You smirk at get off the bed to go rummage through the closet. You spend a few seconds in there when you pull out a vibrator. You turn to show him and his face flushes so vibrantly at the sight of the lewd tool.

“Y-you’re gonna use that.. on me?” He asks, nervously of course. You’ve never used a toy on him before, much less a vibrator so it makes sense that he would be a little scared.

“Mhm! It’s gonna feel good okay? Don’t you wanna cum?” You assure him as you walk towards the bed. He adjusts himself slightly, adhering to the fact that you’re gonna use a toy that you’ve never used on him.

You move over to his side, and rub his back. You plant a few much needed kisses on his face and neck, calming any nerves he has.

“Jus’ relax, okay?” You tell him, gently pulling him closer to you. He nods and glances at you one more time before you flip the on switch.

You flip it on the lowest setting, just for him to get used to the vibrating feeling. You slowly place it on his pink tip, careful not to overstimulate him too fast. He inhales sharply, tilting his head to lean on your shoulder. With every breath, his chest puffs out.

“You okay? It doesn’t hurt right?” You question him, waiting a few seconds for a response.

“Y-yeah..” he shakes his head against your skin, and you can’t help but smile at how cute your boyfriend is.

You move the vibrator down the underside of his dick, causing him to jerk slightly. His mouth opens as he breathes shallower breaths. You take this as your cue to flip it to the second setting.

He gasps as you run the vibrating toy up and down his underside, letting out small whimpers here and there. Again you place the toy on his tip, which was now twitching every few seconds. But then, you run the toy over a specific spot right below his mushroom tip and he groans.

Did you just find.. the sweet spot?

You graze the toy over it again to study his reaction more clearly, and you were right.

“Ah! Ngh..!” He moans out, back arching slightly and writhing uncontrollably. He grabs onto your shoulder and holds tightly, yearning for your comfort.

“Hm? What’s this? You’re sensitive here?” You tease, angling yourself so you’re able to see his face, which has embarrassed written all over it. Once more, you place the toy on the sensitive area, but this time you leave it there.

“F-fuck..! Y/N..! T-touch me!” He cries out. You comply with his demand and run your free hand over his lean body, occasionally massaging his hard nipples. So much was happening at once he couldn’t focus on either thing. So many feelings. He was felling so many feelings. The air in the room that was heavy with arousal. The hard vibration on his dick and your warm hands fondling his nipples. It nearly hurt, but it felt good. Everything felt oh so good. It almost felt like he was.. floating? He felt fuzzy, a warm feeling building up in his stomach.

“Hey. Megumi? You there?” And he jerks his head to look up at you, he nods quickly, moaning and whimpering loudly.

“I was calling your name baby.” He nods again, managing a quiet apology.

“You close?” You ask, and it’s quiet for a minute.

“Gonna..! Y/N- ah..!” He cries out, and his hold on your shoulder tightens. You keep the vibrator on that sensitive spot and his cock begins shooting ropes of thick cum onto his thighs and the toy.

“T-touch me Y/N! Touch me more..!” He begs you, desperate to feel your soft hands roaming his body. He throws his head back, drooling slightly as he begins bucking his hips. You gently bite his neck, spurring his orgasm on more.

“F-fuck.! C-can’t..! ‘s happening.. too much..! Y/N!” He screams, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

“P-please..” he takes your free hand, and begins sucking on two of your fingers. You can feel his warm tongue swirling around your digits as his hips keep moving. You gasp, unprepared but don’t stop him. His cock releases more spurts of pent up cum, and he whines.

Soon, everything begins to slow down back to its regular pace. His breathing calms down but he still holds onto you like a baby. His cock still twitches slightly and your fingers are out of his mouth.

“So you have a sensitive spot and an oral fixation. You’ve never sucked on my fingers before, you baby.” You giggle as you tease him and his wants.

“S-shut up.. didn’t even realize I did it until your fingers were… sorry.” he stops himself and looks away shyly.

“Don’t be sorry, Megs.” You say, still giggling. He grunts and ignores you, lying down in the comfort of your arms.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii

Can you do something about the batboys (specially Tim and Damian cuz they are my fav)?

With a reader who loves hugs, like A LOT

And it is simply spontaneous to want to hug.

Dick

He loves your spontaneity and your hugs.

He finally has someone who can eagerly accept his out of nowhere hugs by reciprocating with your own hugs.

You have a hug off to see who can hug the other the most as it never fails to make both of your days better, and it acts like a really good pick me up when you both need it most.

Dick could stay in your arms forever if he could and hopes that you feel the same as it acts as a way of communicating without the usage of words. Dick can convey how he felt to you in certain situations throughout all types of hugs possible.

Tight hugs for when he thought he wasn’t going to come back home to you, or when he fears that you wouldn’t love him anymore or for times where he just needed to feel you against him.

Soft, gently, comforting hugs for when he feels like being more affectionate with you, maybe even playful and or wanting to just show you that he cares about you as while he’s a charmer, meaningful words tend to fail him on multiple occasions.

Protective, ‘don’t touch them or else’ hugs where he keeps a tight and firm grip on you as he pushes your head into his neck while he poetically cocoons you in his arms as to keep you out of sight of anyone he thinks is no good for you.

Other then them, dick will always await for you with open arms almost instinctively, knowing he’s going to get the best hug of a lifetime as thought you haven’t seen each other in a long time and not five minutes. Dick just loves you and your spontaneous hugs.

Damian

Fight instincts are strong in Damian.

So when you first try to hug him, his sword was drawn within inches of your face as fast as you could blink. He’d never hurt you, no. It’s just that his body was tuned to react within seconds to any potential danger against him, and unfortunately his mind made him think that your hugs were threats.

So once he realises what he had done on impulse, he apologise and sheathed his sword and tells you that he’s not yet use to your kind of affection due to his upbringing and that he’ll try to become accustomed to it eventually; Which he does but his response to your hugs is rather stiff and almost robotic but you were more then happy to take what you get, and if this is the most he can do right now then you’ll accept it.

However when he does start to get use to your hugs and doesn’t feel like he has to draw his sword every time, but he tends to melt into your touch like a stray cat being shown love for the first time. He closes his eyes and burrows his head into your neck as he tightened his grip on you, as though you’d vanish if he were to ever let up his hold.

He doesn’t want you to hug him in public, he’s not comfortable with it as he would when you’re hugging him in private, but he couldn’t fault you if you were to hug him after an highly emotional moment where you thought you’d loose him, Damian understands but he just prefers to have you hug him in private overall.

It also lessens the teasing potential for his brothers and he gets the alone time with you like he so wished for.

Tim

Finds comfort and reassurance in your hugs.

Seriously your hugs are what Tim needs after a long and arduous mission alongside his brothers and sisters.

He doesn’t even flinch at how out of the blue your hugs are, he just accepts your hugs no matter what and will sigh heavily as he practically falls asleep in your arms.

Please help this man get some proper sleep for once in his life, the detective stuff can wait, it’s not going to go anywhere anytime soon just please take a break.

He’s more then reciprocal of your hugs and appreciates the love you pour into them as they help ease the worries within his head as he rests his head against yours, allowing himself to slow down and appreciate what was in front of him.

Your hugs -despite their spontaneity- have a calming affect on him and they worked wonders for when he needs sleep as his mind tends to keep him up at night. So now with you it’s a bit more bearable as you would cradle his head to your chest, letting him focus in on your breathing and your heart until that’s all the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep.

Jason

It takes Jason some time to get use to your spontaneous hug feasts. At first he flinches and almost shies away from your hugs as he doesn’t acquaint any physical contact as soft, or warm or comforting like you did. In fact he viewed it as the opposite.

So it takes time for Jason to become comfortable with your spontaneous hugs and once he stops flinching and shying away from them, he grows addicted to your hugs and awaits each and every time that you decided he looked like he needed a little hug or cuddle.

He -much like Damian- would melt into your hugs, tighten his grip on you and would find that everything fades away the moment he’s in your arms; His mind clears of all stress and all he can think about was how perfect each and every one of your hugs were every single time.

He also never wants to leave your embrace, ever, he just refuses and claims he needs five more minutes in your arms and would groan in annoyance if you were to attempt to pull away.

‘Stop moving away from me.’ He’d groan. ‘You wanted to hug me so hug me!’

You chuckle at him whenever he got like this but oblige to his wishes regardless as you didn’t have to heart to stop hugging Jason when he’s practically clinging onto you like a koala bear. So you just remain where you are until five minutes become a full day and you and Jason are shuffling towards the bedroom together to cuddle until you feel asleep.

Needles to say Jason grows to love your hugs however they come and when they come, for they help him get through the day.

Bruce

He’s not use to your hugs yet either and it takes him just as long-if not longer- as Jason to get use to them overtime.

His muscles would tense and that’s about it.

He’s use to being hugged by the likes of Jason and Damian and Dick when he got older but your hugs were different then theirs, and sooner or later Bruce had developed a sixth sense for whenever you’re going to hug him, and would smile to himself whenever he heard your footsteps and little giggles before bracing himself for you hug.

‘You heard me didn’t you.’ You’d always ask and without hesitation Bruce replied with in a playful manner; ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about my dear.’ Which only made you pout as you tightened your grip on him while burrowing your face into his broad back.

There would even be times where you’re about to hug him, but Bruce moves just in times as you were going to hug his waist and stares at you for a bit before opening his arms and letting you run into his chest. He doesn’t mind your hugs now and then when he’s not busy as he doesn’t like neglecting you for his work; So he tries to at least let you get all your hugs out while you could before he had to indulge in his work that takes up a huge amount of his time.

Like Damian he likes to have you hug him in private, he’s a well know public figure and Gotham isn’t exactly safe and so he prioritised your safety above all else. So while he’ll interlock his pinky with yours or have your arm locked in his in public, he’ll let you hang off of him as reward in private while he rests his hands over your own in means of keeping you there.

Alfred finds it sweet seeing Bruce be affectionate with you and probably has a picture where Bruce is embracing you fully, his head resting atop of yours while your face was smothered against his chest, your face bearing the widest smile possible in comparison to Bruce’s face of calm serenity.

[xenosagaepisodeone]

in many "I'm no longer attracted to my wife because she put on a ton of weight after giving birth and never lost it. I still love her, but she also never wants to be intimate with me anymore, which is driving us further apart. what should I do?"-type reddit threads, most users will attempt to respond to op with the good faith assumption that he does want to help his marriage; "you should cook and work out together", "when was the last time you called her sexy or went on a date? try that", "how often do you do housework or childcare, op? it's possible that she feels exhausted by managing the household." and so on. the op's responses are (often) predictably the same: "I cook, clean, take care of the kids, and make great strides to connect with her", and while some will boldly needle him for more detail to verify how true this is (it isn't), only seasoned reddit hate readers will notice the sleight of hand right off the bat. op has made up his mind about his wife and his marriage, and in his guilt he has constructed a perverse public psychodrama to reinforce his sense of being victimized by things beyond his control. he carefully responds to a select handful of good-natured users with some variation of "I'm trying" and "She's cold and inscrutable" until they can only scratch their heads and respond with "I'm not sure what else you can do, op". if he keeps his cool, the final product, his thread, will be a work of art. a document in which manicured descriptions of his wife's person elicit the disgust he feels in her presence, thus allowing his feelings to surpass subjectivity and become truth. he conceptualized the idea of a good husband and father trapped in an unhappy marriage, and the universe manifested it. In 6 months he will realize the limitations of this magic when he realizes that the 23 year old coworker he was texting wasn't really interested in a serious thing.

[goldengalore]

Ready

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants kids. Y/N isn’t sure what she wants. Feeling pressured to make up her mind, she agrees to something she’s not ready for.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: Hello! It’s been a while. This fic is based on this ask I received forever ago. Enjoy :)

***

Y/N has always been on the fence about having kids.

As a young teenager, she assumed she would have them when she grew up, fell in love, and got married. Social norms, along with her own childish naivete, made her believe that this was the only path one could take in life. Having children was the next logical step to marriage, which was the next logical step to falling in love.

And then she matured and realized that life is not nearly as cut-and-dry, that having kids is a choice, not a necessity, and that she can absolutely go her whole life without having any if that’s what she wants. This realization came as a relief but also felt somewhat unnerving because how is she supposed to know what she wants? She is quite possibly the most indecisive person on the planet, so it’s no surprise that she has bounced back and forth between wanting and not wanting children throughout her entire adult life.

On one hand, she thinks of her friends who have kids and how their lives have become utterly consumed by the little humans that require their constant care and attention. There is just so much that Y/N wants to experience and achieve before settling into a life like that.

Not to mention the horrors of pregnancy. It’s not exactly a walk in the park, having to carry a human life inside of you for nine months and then give birth to it. The health complications, the irreversible bodily changes, the sheer, agonizing pain of childbirth.

And yet, on some days, she fantasizes about becoming a mother, of holding a tiny life in her arms and nurturing it into a full-grown adult. An important character in these fantasies has always been the sweet, thoughtful, loving partner by her side who takes equal responsibility for their child. This person was always a faceless individual—an idealistic depiction of the kind of partner Y/N hoped to find someday.

And then Harry came along.

Sweet, thoughtful, loving Harry who, unlike her, was always sure of his desire to have kids. For him, it was never a question of whether he wanted them but a question of when.

That moment finally arrived for him a year ago. But Y/N wasn’t sure if she felt ready yet.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked her one day. “I don’t mean that in a judgemental way. Bringing a child into this world is scary for anyone, including myself. I’m just curious to know what your specific concerns are.”

“Well, there’s the usual stuff, like whether or not I’ll be a good mother—”

“You’ll be a phenomenal mother.”

She smiled at him, then continued, “Or whether my kids will be able to have a good future with so much chaos in the world...” She trailed off hesitantly.

“But there’s something else,” he said, gently urging her to share what was really holding her back.

“I… I’ve always been terrified of the idea of having to raise a child alone, either because something bad happens to the father or he leaves out of the blue or we break up and I’m left to take care of this child by myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I… I’ve never been able to shake this fear.”

“Doesn’t sound ridiculous to me. I was raised by a single mother, so I know it’s not an easy job.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckle, never breaking eye contact. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You know that, right? We’re in this together. We’re a team, always.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Well, I’m alright with waiting until you feel ready. I want us both to feel ready before we jump into this.”

In the six months following that conversation, the topic would crop up several more times, like after Harry saw her interacting with his godchildren at a party or they walked past a cute baby in a stroller at the grocery store. Y/N didn’t mind discussing the topic. It gave her a chance to ponder and become more comfortable with the concept of motherhood.

Yesterday, Harry returned home from a month-long movie shoot in Sweden. Y/N surprised him by showing up at the airport. What he doesn’t know is that she has another surprise in store for him.

While he was in Sweden, she decided to go off her birth control and now wants to try for kids.

She plans on telling him later tonight once they get home from their friend’s birthday party. They’ve been all over each other tonight. That’s what being apart for a month does to them. Hell, even a week apart is enough to turn them into a couple of horny teenagers that can’t keep their hands off each other.

“You look so hot in that dress,” Harry whispers in her ear, half-joking because they both know this is his fifth time saying that tonight.

Emboldened by a couple glasses of wine, a tipsy Y/N whispers back, “I want you to put a baby in me.”

His eyes widen. He chuckles. “That wine bringing out your wild side?”

“I’m serious,” she states, glancing around to double check that no one is within earshot of their conversation. “I went off my birth control a month ago, after you left for Sweden.”

He stares at her blankly, like her words haven’t quite sunk in.

“H, I’m ready to do this.”

“Really?”

She smiles. “Yes.”

“We’re doing this,” he says as it finally sinks in. He kisses her wine-stained lips. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N can hardly keep her composure on the way home. Harry appears to be in the same boat, as he keeps sneaking glances at her while driving, his hand caressing her thigh. While he’s always been a responsible driver, she can sense the impatience in his maneuvers tonight.

Once they’re home, it’s almost a race to the bedroom. Harry gently pushes her onto the bed and climbs on top of her.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to watch you walk around in this dress tonight”—he runs a hand down her front—“and not be able to bend you over and just slip my cock into you?”

She moans as he cups her pussy through her dress with a firm hand. He lets her grind against it for a minute before pulling away to take off his clothes. She follows suit.

Soon, they’re back on the bed, sharing another series of ardent kisses. By the time he goes down on her, she’s already dripping wet and he licks it up as if he hasn’t had a drop of water in days. Her hips grind against his tongue like they did against his hand just a moment ago. It doesn’t take her long to orgasm.

He shifts up the bed to hover over her body. He kisses her again while lining up his cock with her entrance. As he slides into her, she feels a slight discomfort from being stretched open for the first time in a month. He pulls out and pushes in a little deeper each time to let her adjust until he fills her up completely and she’s too immersed in pleasure to have a single coherent thought anymore.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he says, starting to pump in and out. “Gonna come inside you, yeah? Gonna come deep inside your tight little cunt and fill you up, put a baby in you. Is that what you want?”

Those words flip a switch in Y/N’s mind. She makes an involuntary noise that makes it seem like she’s agreeing with him, so he picks up his pace. Just as he finishes inside her, the terrible realization dawns: She is not ready to have a baby. Not at all.

“I love you,” Harry whispers in her ear, his body resting flush against hers as he comes down from his high.

Tears spring to Y/N’s eyes as she realizes what she’s done, what they’ve just done. When she doesn’t reciprocate his statement, he lifts his head to look at her. A tear escapes her left eye at that exact moment.

Concern furrows his brow. “Lovie? Hey, what’s wrong?”

She just shakes her head while staring at the ceiling.

“Y/N.” He caresses her cheek, urging her to look at him. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Did I go too—”

“We shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake,” she says in a trembling voice.

“What are you talking about?”

She tries to sit up. Harry moves out of her way.

“I’m not ready, H. I’m not ready to have a baby.”

His face falls. “I— But— Then why did you say you were ready?”

“I don’t know… To make you happy?” She covers her face and hears him sigh heavily.

“Y/N, you can’t— You can’t lie about things like that just to make me happy. It’s not like we were deciding what to have for dinner. We’re talking about having a baby, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know that. Of course I know that. But I just— I see the disappointment in your face every time we talk about this, every time I tell you I’m not ready. You seem so sad, Harry. I hate it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not able to hide my emotions as well as I thought I could. That still doesn’t mean you should lie to please me. I thought we were past foolish antics like this.”

She squints at him. “Foolish antics?”

He sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like—”

She turns away from him and gets off the bed.

“Y/N.”

She shuts herself in the bathroom. For a brief moment, a part of her resents him. Resents him for being ready to have kids before she was. For bringing it up so often. For making her feel as though she needed to lie about being ready just to make him happy.

But now, as she stares at her teary-eyed reflection in the mirror, she knows she has to take responsibility. She is the one who led him to believe that she was ready when deep down, she knew she wasn’t. He never once pressured her to make up her mind or acted like he loved her any less for not wanting kids yet. He never made her feel any type of way about it. He has done nothing but be the supportive, understanding partner he’s always been. It was her who doubted that. She let her own paranoia get to her.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

A few moments later, he knocks again.

“Please, lovie? I’m getting worried.”

Finally, she opens the door. He takes in her red, puffy eyes and tentatively places his arms around her, only pulling her in when she steps into his embrace.

They stand there silently until he says, “Why don’t we head over to the pharmacy and get you a morning after pill?”

She agrees, so they get dressed and head out. The ride to the pharmacy is a quiet one. Every time she glances at Harry, his eyes are focused on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, and he appears deep in thought. It’s the complete opposite of their ride home from the party, when he could hardly keep his hands or his eyes off her. She tries to think of ways to break the silence, but nothing feels appropriate. The last time she felt so awkward and unsure about what to say around Harry was when they first started going out and she was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

When they get back from the pharmacy, she swallows down the pill with some water and they head back to bed.

***

Y/N: Hey H, you on your way home? Hope you’re hungry, I made your favourite for dinner 😊

H: I have a business dinner tonight. Mentioned it this morning

Y/N: Oh! Sorry I forgot about that. I’ll save some in the fridge for you for tomorrow

H: Sure, thanks

Y/N stares at the message. She can’t tell if she’s reading into things or if Harry’s replies really are as dry and aloof as they sound. Her propensity to overanalyze everything makes it difficult to know. Ever since the incident in the bedroom a few days ago, it feels as though Harry has been avoiding her. Spending long days at the studio, coming home late at night when he knows she’ll be asleep, giving short replies, taking longer to text back. They haven’t had sex again since then either.

After scrutinizing their text conversation for twenty minutes, she comes to her senses and realizes that she can’t keep going on like this. It’s driving her crazy. What she needs to do is talk to him. But he’ll most likely be tired when he gets home.

At first, she thinks she’ll sit him down tomorrow morning and talk it out. But when he walks through the front door just after eleven o’clock that night, she can’t help herself.

She stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea, when he enters. The dark circles under his eyes are noticeable. He has been willing to sacrifice his sleep just to avoid being around her any longer than he has to. Her chest constricts.

“Hey,” he says, placing his phone and keys on the counter. “You’re still up.”

“Can’t sleep.” She stares down into her half-empty mug, the remainder of the tea quickly growing cold.

“How come?”

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“About…?”

She swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at him. “About whether or not you’re upset with me and how I can fix it.”

He frowns. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“Because of what happened a few nights ago.”

His frown dissolves into something different—sympathy? Guilt?

“Y/N, I’m not upset with you about that.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems like it. You’re gone before I’m even awake and you come home when I’m going to bed. We’ve barely talked or kissed or cuddled in the past few days. I know you haven’t been that busy since you got back from Sweden, so… I don’t really see any other explanation.”

He stares at her wordlessly for a long time before speaking. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. But it’s not because I’m upset with you. It’s because I’m upset with myself. I feel like I pressured you into doing something you obviously weren’t comfortable with. I never saw myself as someone who pressures people into doing things they don’t want to do. So, I suppose I’ve been feeling some shame and guilt about it… and then avoiding you because it’s hard to face these feelings.”

Y/N sets her tea on the counter. She never could’ve guessed that Harry felt this way. She was so convinced that he was mad at her, it didn’t even occur to her that he might just be feeling guilty about it all. After how long she has known him, it should have been obvious that the latter is more consistent with his character, but her anxious brain wouldn’t even let her consider that possibility. She walks over and wraps her arms around him.

“H, I had no idea you felt that way.”

He squeezes her tightly, resting his chin on her head. She turns her head to the side so that her cheek is against his chest.

“To be honest, there were times I felt pressured when the topic of kids came up,” she says. “But a lot of that pressure was created by my own fears and insecurities. I just hated disappointing you over and over. I was scared your feelings about me, about us, would change if I kept saying I wasn’t ready.”

“This hasn’t changed how I feel about you or us. Y/N, I want you more than I want kids. Way more. If you decided one day that you don’t want them at all, that still wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

She pulls back to look at him. “Are you sure? That’s a dealbreaker for a lot of people.”

“Well, not for me. Not when it comes to you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suddenly, he lifts her up onto the counter and stands between her legs.

“So. What did you get up to today?” he asks, planting a kiss to her collarbone.

She rests her hands on his chest. “Hmm, what did I get up to? I hardly remember anything other than obsessing over this whole situation.” She laughs.

“Aw, lovie, I’m sorry I had you all stressed out.”

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you. Help you relieve all that stress.” He peppers kisses along the side of her neck and jaw.

She sighs softly and closes her eyes. “I would like that.”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[racetowrite]

Devoted to you

Support a disabled creator

Pairing : Lando Norris x f!reader

Tags : overstimulation, safe word, uprotected piv (fuck them kids), afab!fem!reader

Word Count : 2.9k

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself surrounded by the comfort of Lando's strong arms. The warm sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the room. You snuggle closer to him, relishing in the feel of his body against yours.

Lando stirs slightly as you move against him, and he slowly opens his eyes, a drowsy smile on his face. He pulls you closer, his hand resting on your waist.

"Morning beautiful," he greets you, his voice rough with sleep. "How did you sleep?"

You hum contentedly, snuggling into his chest. "Better now that you're here," you reply, a soft smile on your lips.

He chuckles softly, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the bare skin of your back.

"Good, because I missed holding you like this, this month has been crazy without you” Lando says, nuzzling his face into your hair.

You bask in the comfort of Lando's embrace, feeling your body melt into his as he pulls you even closer. You missed this, missed the easy intimacy and the way you always fit perfectly against each other.

"I missed you too, you know," you reply, your voice a soft murmur. "It felt like this month went on forever without you here."

Lando's arms tighten around you at your words, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "I know, I know," he says, his voice filled with regret. "It sucked being away this long."

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair.

He inhales deeply, taking in your scent. "You're so much better than any race," he teases, his lips curving into a crooked smile.

You laugh softly at his words, playfully swatting his chest. "Oh, stop it. You'll make me blush," you retort, though a small blush does indeed color your cheeks.

"Besides, if you really feel that way, you should consider retiring and becoming my personal pillow instead."

Lando grins at your response, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Are you suggesting I give up my high-speed career to become a professional cuddler instead?" he teases, pulling you even closer against him.

"Something like that," you reply with a laugh. "I mean, you're pretty good at it. Plus, think of all the extra sleep you'd get."

You prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a mischievous smile. "And I'd have you all to myself. It's a win-win situation, if you ask me."

Lando pretends to mull it over, feigning a serious expression as he caresses your cheek with his fingers.  “Hmm, you make a valid point. Being a professional cuddler does sound pretty enticing…“

He grins, pulling you back down on top of him so that you’re draped over his chest. “And the idea of having you all to myself sounds even more enticing.”

For the last month while Lando was away racing, you had found yourself constantly missing his presence. You longed for his comforting smile, his infectious laughter, and the warmth of his embrace. Every night, you counted down the days until he would return.

During this time, you had also been contemplating asking him if you could start attending his races in the paddock. You had been together for 6 months now and yet you had never been to a race before.

The idea of seeing him in his element, surrounded by the fast-paced world of Formula 1, both excited and intimidated you. But you knew how much it would mean to both of you if you were there to support him in person. 

As the days passed, the desire to ask him grew stronger. You mentally rehearsed what you would say, trying to find the right words to express how much you cared about his passion and wanted to be a part of it.

Lando, still holding you tightly, notices the contemplative look on your face. "What's on your mind, love?" he asks gently, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your bare back.

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, contemplating how to bring up the topic that’s been on your mind. “Well, I was just wondering…,” you begin, your voice a little hesitant. “I was thinking maybe I could come to your races in the paddock…if you wanted me there, that is.”

Lando’s eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and pleasure flashing across his face. He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“You want to come to the paddock?” he repeats, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Really?”

You nod, a nervous smile on your lips. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice gaining a bit more confidence. “I know we haven’t discussed it before and you might have your reasons for not wanting me there, but…I just really want to be a part of your racing world. I want to see you in your element, to support you in person.”

As you continue talking, a sudden insecurity washes over you. Doubt begins to creep into your mind, making you question whether Lando would even want you there.

You anxiously nibble on your bottom lip, your tone becoming more hesitant. “I mean, if you think I’d be a distraction or if it would be too much pressure… I totally understand if you’d rather I stay away…”

Lando immediately notices the change in your demeanor. He pulls you even closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Hey, no…look at me,” he says firmly, making sure you meet his gaze.

He searches your eyes, his expression earnest. “You’re not a distraction, sweet girl. You could never be. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay away. Your support means the world to me.”

Lando’s eyes soften as he sees the uncertainty in yours. He understands your hesitation and wants to assure you that it has nothing to do with his feelings. He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t want you there. That’s not true at all,” he says, his voice genuine and affectionate. “The truth is, I didn’t bring it up because… I was worried about you getting overwhelmed.”

He sighs softly, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “The paddock can be chaotic and intense. There are so many people, cameras, the media… I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed by it all. I wanted to protect you, to shield you from that side of my world.”

His gaze meets yours, his expression earnest. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you there. I would love to have you by my side, cheering me on. You have no idea how much that would mean to me. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured or to feel like you had to put yourself in a situation that might make you uncomfortable.”

He caresses your cheek again, his touch gentle and reassuring. “But if you truly want to come, if you’re sure you’re ready for it, then you have my full support. Just promise me you’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, okay? “

He leans closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I only want you to be comfortable, love. I care about you too much to let you feel anything other than that.”

Despite Lando’s reassurances and the warmth of his embrace, you can’t shake off a lingering insecurity. You miss him terribly, and a part of you wants to let him know just how much.

The words are on the tip of your tongue but you hesitate, afraid that you’ll come off as clingy or needy. You don’t want him to think you’re dependent on him, or worse, that you’re being too clingy.

Your gaze flickers downwards, fixated on his bare chest, unable to meet his eyes. “Lando…” you begin, your voice soft and hesitant. “I know it’s only been a month, but I…I missed you so much while you were away.”

As the words leave your lips, a pang of vulnerability washes over you. You can feel your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety, afraid of how he’ll react to your admission.

You continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know it probably sounds silly, but it was just really hard without you. I missed waking up to your smile, being surrounded by your warmth, hearing your voice…”

You bite down on your bottom lip, mentally chastising yourself for blurting all this out. But now that you’ve started, it feels like a dam has burst, and all of your feelings are pouring out.

Lando notices the shift in your tone and the way you avoid looking at him. He immediately understands the gravity of your words. They’re not just a simple statement of missing someone; they’re a confession born out of vulnerability and raw emotion.

His grip on you tightens, his body responding to your confession. He gently coaxes your chin up so that you meet him gaze, his eyes searching yours intently.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft yet authoritative. He needs to see your face, to gauge the depth of your emotions. When your eyes finally meet his, Lando sees the mixture of vulnerability and insecurity in your gaze.

He can see the storm of emotions roiling beneath the surface, and it breaks his heart a little. He knew you missed him; of course you did. But the depth of your longing is more intense than he had realized.

Lando leans closer, his touch gentle yet possessive. “You have no idea how much I missed you, do you?” he says, his voice laced with a tinge of sadness. “I ached for you every night. I couldn’t sleep without you, couldn’t focus on anything but counting down the days until I could hold you again.”

Lando’s eyes darken with a primal possessiveness, his voice dropping an octave. “I missed waking up to the feel of your soft skin against mine. I missed the smell of your hair, the sound of your voice… You have no idea how much I need you, love.”

He moves closer to you, his body pressed against yours as he whispers the next words against your ear. “I need you to know that you’re mine. Every inch of you belongs to me, and I’m never letting you go.”

His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips possessively. He needs to feel you against him, to remind himself that you’re real and that you’re his.

“You’re mine. You got that?” he asks, his voice a velvet-edged command. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Yes, you are. All mine.”

He dips his head, his lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck and trailing kisses along the exposed skin.

A couple of hours later, you can’t really tell how many orgasms you’ve had by this point.

Lando had started between your thighs, eating your pussy like a man starved, sucking at your clit until you had soaked his face not once, but twice.

He’d barely given you a change to breathe through the aftershocks before he had sunk two of his thick fingers into you, under the guise of stretching you out for his cock. But you know better. You know because he had immediately sought out your g-spot, pressing into it and chuckling like a bastard when you gasped and your hips twitched.

He’d worked you through two orgasms like that, his two fingers turning into three.

Your mind had already been hazy, your vision slightly blurred when he had sunk his cock into you. You were already so sensitive, and the way he had pounded unrelentingly into your g-spot had made it fucking worse. You had sobbed, hips twitching hard, but Lando held you steady, telling you how good you were. Telling you to cum on his cock. Telling you to cum again. 

And you had, clenching around him hard as you shook in his arms. He floods your pussy with his cum not long after that, and you breathe hard, exhausted and ready to wrap yourself around your boyfriend as you sleep like the dead.

But Lando pulls out of you and you feel his cum leak out of your sensitive pussy. And he takes those thick fingers that you hate to love, and pushes it back in.

He stuffs his cum back into your abused entrance, pressing two fingers into you all over again, and you want to scream when he presses them against your g-spot.

“Lando, ah, ‘s too sensitive. I’m so fucking, so fucking sensitive baby,” you whimper, hips attempting to jerk away, but Lando keeps a strong hand pressed to your lower stomach, holding you still as he plays with your messy cunt. 

“C’mon gorgeous, you can give me another one. So good, so pretty, you gotta give me another one,” he mutters, his muscles bulging as he works his fingers into you, ruthless and unrelenting.

He feels it when you cum again, your pussy fluttering softly, and he smiles. “Good girl, baby. Good fucking girl. Another, c’mon. Another.”

You can only whine, tears slowly leaking down your puffy face. You can’t cum again, you can’t. The last one had hurt, a little bit, your stomach cramping up. It feels like he’s ripping orgasms out of you at this point, forceful and violent. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t feel it the way you do. They’re not good orgasms anymore, there’s no satisfaction, only aching.

He leans down to pepper kisses under your jaw, soft pecks that are usually a source of comfort, but not now. Not now. He’s still playing with your g-spot, his thumb rubbing hard circles into your clit. You’re numb, but your body still clenches up involuntarily with another orgasm, and oh god, it hurts.

You’re whining high in the back of your throat, little mutters of “too much, ‘s too much Lan-, oh fuck,” whispered between you both. But he isn’t stopping, doesn’t show any plans of stopping anytime soon, and another orgasm wracks your body, feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning. 

“Red, red, Lando, oh god, red,” you gasp, barely able to fucking breathe. You want to sob in relief when you feel his fingers immediately leave your puffy, abused cunt, but you immediately want to mourn again as his heavy body lifts off of you. His thick hands leave you, leaving you suddenly cold, and you whimper softly.

“Hey, hey,” Lando’s gruff voice filters into your ear, close to your face, but keeping his distance, not taking the chance of touching you when you don’t want it. “Hey, baby, are you hurt? Are you hurting anywhere?” You try to answer, but no sound comes out, your throat sticky and choked. “Just one word, baby, yes or no. Are you hurt?”

“No,”  you mutter, your voice breathy and ruined to your own ears. “Just,” you cough, “hold me?” 

Lando doesn’t hesitate, moving next to you and gathering you up against his naked body, his warm skin a comfort against yours. He’s a little sticky with sweat, but you know that you’re even stickier. You feel wrung dry, the area between your thighs too tacky with a mixture of you and Lando. You’ll need a shower later, but you content yourself with just breathing in Lando’s scent, warm and musky, with a hint of his woodsy deodorant. 

He holds you against him like you’ll disappear, tracing his fingers up your spine as you sync your breathing with his. Neither of you speak, simply existing together as you come back to yourself. You’re not sure how much time passes, only that Lando holds you steady, strong and unyielding in only the way that he can be.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble against his chest, and Lando jerks suddenly, arms hugging you tighter.

“No, baby,” he says, so vehement that you giggle softly. “You never apologize for using the safe word, okay?” You feel his hand come up to nudge your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I am so, so glad you felt safe enough to use it, okay? That took a lot of strength, and I am so proud of you.”

You can’t help how your eyes start to burn at his words, and you desperately want to bury yourself inside of this beautiful, strong, understanding man, and never come out.

“What happened, sweet girl? Just so I don’t do it again, okay? I just need to know,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little bit, and it breaks your heart. You lean up to press a comforting kiss against his lips.

“Just because I can cum multiple times Lando, doesn’t mean I should, okay handsome?” you croak out, and you watch Lando’s brows furrow. 

“You get so hyper-focused on making me cum, baby, and even though that is like, every girl's dream, it starts to hurt after a while, you know?” Lando nods at your explanation, and you smile softly at him.

“You are so, so good in bed baby, but my body can’t really handle that many orgasms back to back. Maybe we can keep it to a maximum of four?”

Lando smooths his hand over your cheek before cupping the back of your head, guiding you into a soft kiss. “Okay, baby, four it is,” he mumbles into your mouth, and you giggle in response, bringing one of your hands up to brush a thumb over his stubbly cheek. 

“I love you Lando,” you whisper, and Lando whimpers softly, almost like he’s relieved.

“I love you too baby, so much. So fucking much,” he says against your lips. He kisses you softly, again and again, chaste and warm and loving.

“You’re too good to me, Lando Norris.”

[spiceofvy]

Hihi! I have a request. Can I have a skz headcannon when their dick doesn’t fit. Ty!

SKZ - When their dick doesn't fit

cws: gender neutral reader, nsfw, bottom reader, dirty talk, mentions of reader potentially getting hurt, foreplay, fingering, aftercare, corruption kink (Chan), mentioned overstimulation (Minho), praise (Changbin, Hyunjin), slight degradation (Seungmin)

Chan: So cocky. Like really fucking cocky. His corruption kink going brrr. "Oh it doesn't fit? Poor baby never had something big like this inside huh?" Of course he would never try to force anything, knowing that it could hurt you. But man does it give you a confidence boost. Maybe jerks off on your body to "spare you". Cocky boy.

Minho: "Doesn't fit? Well guess I need to loosen your muscles then." And then overstimulates you until you are loose enough for him. Carefully prepping you with his fingers stretching you slowly. Definitely has a bit of a power trip while doing so. So so much aftercare afterwards. Talks you through everything he does and checks in with you the whole time.

Changbin: Also cocky, not as much as Chan but still a good bit, tries to show it less though. Prepares you softly for him, whispering some sweet praise into your ear. Asks you twice if you really feel ready. Very slow, very sweet. "Look how good you take me. Feeling so good on my dick, squeezing me just like that." Very confident in his game.

Hyunjin: Honestly? This is like his number one fear for him. He is so scared of hurting you, that he always goes extra slow. Prepping you twice. Praises you so much during it, "you are doing so well for me my love. So perfect, so beautiful for me." But he is also cool with the two of you getting each other off in different ways when there really should be problems with penetration.

Han: "Wait, are you serious?" Was 100% sure that that is just some porn cliche. Could come on the spot when you tell him. After he understands the issue he gets super super worried about you being hurt, so he definitely is extra careful. But in between his worries, he would totally ask you to record an audio of you saying how big his dick is.

Felix: Oh no! He is so worried about hurting you. After the first "failed" attempt he would prefer to have sex without penetration. it would just make him more comfortable and would ease his mind a lot. Should you try again he would ask you to be on top so you can control the speed and angle that he is entering you in. "It's okay love, go slow. We have all the time you need."

Seungmin: Another cocky motherfucker. Teases you about it every time you have sex. "Are you sure you're trying hard enough? Does my spoiled darling really believe that it's that easy to take my dick?" Lots of aftercare afterward. Praising you and massaging your body all over. Making sure that he didn't push too much or made you uncomfortable.

Jeongin: With big dick comes big responsibility. And he has no idea what to do with it. But is very willing to learn. So he googles, gets scared about hurting you, and masters the art of fingering. And becomes like really fucking good, no need for his dick. But after some time he still wants to try, so he is preparing you with his amazing fingers, and then goes really slow on you. "Are you okay? Do you want me to go slower?"

[neoraso]

bf things with riize

shotaro:

is always your biggest cheerleader. listens to all your concerns and comforts you in the best way he can

loves meeting your friends and having you be close with his

is so excited to get to know you and learn everything he can about you - don't mind him he's just collecting data so he can love you even more ;>

is very much in it for the long haul with you- like he wouldn't be with you if he couldn't really see a future with you. he's pretty young and wouldn't really want to settle down until the future but he's planning on being with you as long as he can-often tells you this

wants to be the most positive, safe and uplifting person in your life. expect a lot of big hugs with back rubs, high fives where he intertwines your fingers ♡

eunseok:

he's pretty masculine but also very nonchalant about it. your man. takes care of things for you wordlessly, tucks you in, carries your bags etc.

pretends to be cocky/annoyed by your clinginess but literally becomes a "where's my hug at?" guy when he walks in the door. like if u don't at least give him a kiss hello he's like wth,,, is everything ok with my baby

will pretty much go along with whatever you want.. like if you want to watch a disney movie he'll be like i'm completely indifferent on what we watch but as long as it makes u happy

peels fruit for you and feeds it to you because he likes watching you eat.

so attentive. makes sure you're taking your medicine/vitamins, that you're sleeping well and making it to all your appointments, fulfilling all your responsibilities.

sungchan:

prefers to stay at your house over everything,, u gave him a key and he abuses the privilege- like you come home from work/school and he's just in ur bed .. sometimes even asleep and ur like ok sure??

idk how to explain ,, he's like that typical older guy like brother's best friend vibes just always playful, flirty, teasing but all out of love.

ur just his which he reminds you of daily .. "how's my baby," "my favorite girl doing ok?" "you know you're my angel right?"

loves to attack you with love. pushes you on the bed so he can lay all his weight on you (WILL fall asleep like this if you're not careful), tugs on your hair to get you to look at him , pokes or tickles you if he thinks you're not paying enough attention to him

in that vein, very protective of you. if someone is bothering you or just making life difficult he is ready and willing to throw hands. you can tell bc his jaw clenches and his nose flares just a bit until ur like,,sungchan it's really fine just annoying,,, and he's like mmhm sure (still rubs your arm and back to calm himself down..)

wonbin:

holds your hand as long as he can wherever yall go. like if he's saying goodbye :< waits until the door is about to smash his hand to let go of yours

once you get to the stage where he trusts you to share his worries with ..,,, u are locked in like u are 4lifers

teases his friends a lot but is literally putty in your hands like he will do anything for you and would never want you to question his affection for you

best listener . full eye contact (even if it makes you blush) usually playing with your fingers too. brings up things you've mentioned before and ur like,, how do you even remember this I don't even remember this

lowk needs reassurance and his heart gets so warm when you sincerely tell him how you feel and how much you love and appreciate him

seunghan:

finds anything remotely heart-shaped and points it out to you or texts you a picture.

you are literally his baby.,,, even if you're older, you are his baby. adores you, dotes on you, spoils you, feeds you, etc.

so affirming and validating whenever you rant to him. pets your hair and pouts "really baby? that sounds so frustrating but you're doing so well handling it. i'm here if you need me to fight someone :>" (has never fought anyone in his life)

hypeman hypeman hypeman. encourages you in everything you do and will show his support in forms of kisses, sweet words and texts

unlike sungchan he wont be so ,,... intrusive when he can't see you often but he does video call you as much as he can because he NEEDS to check on his lovely lover sweetie pie angel

sohee:

thinks all your quirks are so endearing and makes him fall even deeper for you

wants to learn your native language so bad so he can be closer to you and meet you halfway in communication

sooooo appreciates how you listen to him and his day, his worries, his dreams. wants to be there for you just as much ♡

i think he'd like to leave you little gifts even if it's like a post it note with a candy and a little encouraging message, or something bigger like shoes or a jacket or jewelry you've been eyeing

though he has so much energy, he also loves recharging at home with you, just snuggling and sharing little kisses and snacks.

anton:

appreciates how you never push him out of his comfort zone, grabs your hand as a silent ask for support.

loves to have fun with you ,, going out with you, watching and making silly tiktoks even just laying around and chilling with you makes him so happiiii

will hug you or backhug you and for some reason gets shy and shocked when you kiss him bc he's so cute

yall definitely started as besties ,, so you're already pretty close as a couple except now you get to kiss and stuff which he thinks is pretty great.

has 282922892 pics of you in his phone, printed , polaroids. he’s too shy to hang them up but he keeps one in his wallet and in his phone case to feel like you’re with him all the time :>

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Gyutaro NSFW Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: non-con, dub-con, stalking, kidnapping, Gyutaro threatens a couple to let him watch them have sex, exhibitionism, masturbation, period sex, spitting, minor implications of somnophilia, mentions of physical violence, threats, murder, Gyutaro is a freak and likes to hold your hand during sex, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 13K

HABITS:

Generally speaking, Gyutaro has never really touched himself. Perhaps when he was younger, still a human and going through puberty, but for the vast, vast majority of Gyutaro’s life, his demon biology has rendered every sexual urge he feels dulled to the point of disappearing.

That said, he’s still able to grow jealous at hearing when human partners are intimate with one another, their moans and cries grating on his ears and making him scowl, anger simmering in his veins because why can’t he have that?

Sure, he could find some random human woman and take what he wants from her, but there’s something about the way humans clutch onto one another, moaning out praises and begging for more that enticing Gyutaro, making him feel shy and bashful and pissed because he knows that will never be him. He’ll never have a woman gasping his name in anything other than fear, and although he’s accepted it, he’s wildly jealous.

However, because his actual sexual urges themselves are diminished, Gyutaro more often finds himself jealous than horny – a stark difference between the two. And consequently, he has minimal experience with masturbation, and he frankly doesn’t care. His logistical situation with Daki makes finding the time to touch himself in his own private space extremely difficult. Plus, there’s something awfully pitiful about wrapping his fingers around his cock with the knowledge that they’ll only ever be his fingers, no one else’s – something that makes him warble and scratch himself bloody, effectively killing any libido he’d managed to feel.

But with all of that said, things begin changing once his infatuation with you develops. He’s not immediately wishing to fuck you, but as Gyutaro becomes more comfortable with the idea of intimacy with you, lewd thoughts start tainting the edges of his mind, turning the relatively innocent fantasy of cuddling with you into grinding against your ass, grasping your thigh and lifting it up just barely so that he can slot himself inside, breathing hard into your ear and growling, the sound throaty and heady and so very needy.

And really, is that so unnatural?

Sure, his libido isn’t the strongest, but imagining the woman he thinks he’s in love with to be naked and laid out underneath him isn’t out of the ordinary, right?

He’s sure all men think about the depraved thoughts that start worming their way into his imagination – they’re mostly questions, really, tying into his obsessiveness and desperation to learn as much about you as he possibly can.  

He’s idly wondering how you sound when you moan – is it airy, high-pitched, low, gasping?

How do you look when you come? Does your face scrunch up, does your mouth drop open, do you close your eyes, does your back arch, do you curl your toes, do you reach out and grasp at anything you can find?

What’s your favorite position? He’d be willing to try all of them if you’d like, if you’re unsure – Gyutaro secretly thinks his own favorite will be having you on top, your pretty tits mere inches from his lips and giving him a perfect view of both your own face and your cunt sucking him in again and again and again, the sight making him dizzy with pleasure and forcing him to grasp your hips and fuck up into you, just to hear you gasp and moan and scream his name.

Have you ever squirted? He hopes no man has ever touched you at all, much less made you squirt, but Gyutaro swears he’ll get you to do it – he wants to feel your release all over his face, coating his fingers, tongue, chin, and cock, smeared across every inch of his skin and worn proudly.

Do you like to be praised or degraded, and do you like your lovers vocal? Gyutaro sure hopes so, because he knows he won’t be able to shut up when he’s buried balls deep inside you, your wet, warm, tight walls clenching down on him and forcing curse after groans out of him, practically milking him for both his cum and his moans. He wouldn’t mind praising or degrading you – what naturally slips out of his mouth when he’s fucking his fist is a healthy mix of both, imagining you in front of him and calling you my perfect slut or something of the sort.

Do you groom yourself, keeping everything perfectly smooth and shaved, or do you let nature takes its course? He hopes it’s the latter – he wants to relish in your scent, to bury his face between your legs and inhale deeply, getting a nose full of you, something made much easier when your hair and pheromones are tickling his cheeks.

(While he prefers you to not shave, Gyutaro himself will try to clean himself up routinely – starting way before he steals you away, just so that he can learn how to do it, to make sure he knows how to so that he doesn’t embarrass himself the first time you see him naked. The thought already embarrasses him enough – to have his body open to your scrutiny, to feel you looking at him, and he really doesn’t need the extra stress. Luckily for him, his quick regeneration means no accidental knicks with the razor knife last long – unfortunately, it also means that any cut hair regrows almost instantaneously, much to his displeasure. He’s hopeful you won’t be too disgusted by his pubes the first time you see him – though the dark hairs do a good job of framing the very, very long cock hanging between his legs.)

Quite honestly, he stalks you with such intensity and consistency that he’ll know the answer to many of these questions before long – he's memorized how you look when you come, your face ingrained into his brain and flashing behind his eyelids when he’s orgasming himself. But it’s different to be thinking about something like that – something so naughty. Gyutaro spends his time idly wondering these questions, a pale pink blooming on his cheeks because it’s just so dirty and you’re so very sweet, and thinking of you in such a lewd light almost makes him feel guilty.

Almost, because then he sees you, hiding from the shadows and getting the smallest whiff of your scent every few seconds, and then suddenly all guilt is gone because fuck, he needs you.

However, Gyutaro is still oddly shy about certain things with you. As such, when he first begins fantasizing about fucking you, there’s that small, annoyingly human part of him that worries if you’ll find him revolting once he’s fully nude in front of you, vulnerable to your facial expressions and any words of negative reaction.

He’s terrified, really, that you’ll find him unattractive or too repulsive to sleep with. He wants you to want him, to need him as he needs you, and if you were to call him ugly, a monster, anything of the sort? Well, it would take the demon a long, long time to recover from such a blow to his heart, old wounds tearing open fresh to endure another bout of pain.

And so, in a panicked and a frantic attempt to avoid any negative criticism from you once your intimate relationship begins, Gyutaro decides that he needs to learn more about actual sex, not just the crude, vulgar words he hears from the human men around him. If he wants to have any hope at making you actually enjoy sex with him (something he desperately, desperately wants), Gyutaro feels that he needs to see the real thing, to observe carefully and take notes.

Luckily, it’s not particularly hard to find a coupling around the Entertainment District, sneaking across roofs and peeking into windows until he hears moans and slapping sounds and sees writhing bodies and smells the musty, acrid odor of sex. And once he does, Gyutaro is quick to step down into the room, his presence casting a shadow against the moonlight and candle light of the room, the couple immediately stopping and staring at him in fear.

Before either person has a chance to scream, Gyutaro’s rushing forward, a hand covering each mouth and a sneer on his face as he tells the man that he’s so lucky, having a pretty woman to fuck every night… show me.

The man’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head underneath Gyutaro’s hand, causing the demon’s sneer to fall into a scowl. He needs to see this couple make love – he needs tips and advice, to see how it really goes. Plus, the woman’s body is somewhat similar to yours – perhaps you have similar spots that feel particularly good, and Gyutaro will take any and every scrap of information and ideas he can in order to make eventual sex with you good.

Anything to get you moaning his name and pulling at his hair and begging him for more.

Let me watch you fuck her, or I’ll kill you both. What’s your choice, huh? Gyutaro holds eye contact with the man, watching him debate, feeling the woman trembling and crying under his other hand.

His eye twitches – damn this man for loving the woman, because his slight hesitation in answering means he doesn’t want Gyutaro to see her nude, vulnerable, exposed, and it’s making Gyutaro imagine someone propositioning him this about you. Violent images of how he’d slaughter and kill whoever was threatening to see you moaning and gasping and naked flash through his mind, making him grit his teeth and press against their mouths harder.

At that, the man frantically nods yes, and Gyutaro snickers. Eh, you bastard, letting me watch you touch your woman? Pathetic, man, pathetic.

He takes his hands off their mouths, bracing himself for any screams, but when none come he smiles – a mean, twisted smile. I want to see everything, you know? Start over, act like I’m not here. I’m just watching, so give me a good show but be natural! I’ll kill you if you’re not natural.

Gyutaro scratches at his chest as he settles back against a wall on the side of the room, watching as the couple shakily sits up. The woman is still crying, but the man cups her cheek in his palm, swallowing hard, before slotting his lips against hers. The woman immediately begins kissing him back, the motions slow and hesitant.

Gyutaro growls, his voice forceful as he tells them to kiss harder, I’ll cut off your lips if you don’t.

That gets the two of them moving faster, the audible wet noises as her tongue slips into his mouth making Gyutaro lick his lips. It’s all too easy to imagine you in the woman’s place and him in the man’s, his hand sitting at your breast just as the man’s is, idly squeezing and playing with her nipple. They spend a few more moments kissing, before the man carefully pushes the woman back, laying her down with her legs spread over, her hands held over her head.

They’re still kissing, and Gyutaro’s hand snakes down to cup at his bulge, the idea of wet noises and hovering over you making his breath short. He’s watching them seemingly without blinking, reaching down past the top hem of his pants and firmly clutching at this balls, squeezing harshly and making him hiss through his teeth as the man shimmeys down, kissing and licking at the woman’s breasts.

She keens, biting her lip and trying to not look at Gyutaro, the man using his thumb and index finger to roll her nipple, pinching and tugging while flicking his tongue over its twin. Gyutaro pulls his hands out of his pants briefly to spit into his palm, hand slithering back into his pants and gripping the base of his cock in a death grip.

He’s painfully hard at this point – the man’s head is suddenly between the woman’s thighs, and Gyutaro’s moving forward before he can even think about, still gripping himself under his pants as he nears the bed, wanting an up-close view of the man’s actions. They both tense at this, but Gyutaro scoffs.

Keep going, yeah? Just needed a better view.

The man swallows but obeys, tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe from her folds up and over her clit, making her sigh. Soon his tongue is flicking out and licking at the small bud, fingers pulling up to expose the area and make access easier. Gyutaro mentally notes that away – he knows women like when men play with their clit, and perhaps you’d be impressed by his knowledge of this, or the way he’ll pull your lips up, just so he can fully see that pretty, throbbing pearl on you.

The man’s free hand moves up to run a few fingers through her folds, his fingers suddenly soaking wet and glistening in the moonlight. Gyutaro licks his lips – god, he wants to taste you so bad, his tastebuds tingling and his mouth literally salivating at the thought of tasting your lips, what’s between your legs, even your tears. Gyutaro’s hand slowly moves up, hand slicked with spit lessening the friction and making him lowly groan. The man slips a finger inside her, the woman’s small moan making the man’s brows twitch together.

Gyutaro’s careful to watch the man’s pacing – his tongue is licking steady, consistent circles over her clit, while his fingers are thrusting slowly, carefully, adding a second finger after a few moments. Would you like the same pacing? Gyutaro’s not sure, but the hand not diligently pumping at his cock beneath his pants mimics the same finger motion as the man, his tongue slipping out to mimic licking small circles. He matches the man’s pace, wide yellow eyes slowly starting to go half-lidded from the pleasure of his fingers wrapped around his girth.

Tell me what feels best, woman.

He’ll snarl, keeping an eye on the way the man tenses up but doesn’t stop his actions. The woman’s flushed, her eyes darting to him before quickly looking away.

When – ah, when he curls his fingers up, fuck, and little circles on – oh! She cuts herself off with a moan, and Gyutaro (irritated that she didn’t finish but too focused on her instructions) repeats the words over and over in his head, modifying the hand motion he’s practicing to closely resemble her descriptions.

His fist moves a bit faster, creating a deft thump motion each time his fingers bump into his navel. The sound of the man fingering the woman is so, so very lewd, too – it’s wet, a squelching noise that makes Gyutaro drool, the idea that you’d be that wet making his throat dry, his hips bucking forward against his fist involuntarily.

Fuck her, now, ngh…

The man gulps, wiping the woman’s slick off of his lips and chin, and Gyutaro feels a particularly large glob of precum dribble from his tip, the extra lubrication making his pleasure just that much sharper.

Start over her.

He instructs as the man moves to hover over her, nodding at the demon’s words and slotting himself between her legs. Gyutaro watches intently as the man grips the base of his cock, aligning his tip with your hole, pushing forward and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. Gyutaro sucks in a sharp breath – would you feel that good inside? He's sure you would; you’re so pretty and sexy, of course you have the best cunt. He bets it’s incredibly warm, wet enough to leave his cock, navel, and upper thighs coated in no time, and god you’d be so fucking tight, gripping him hard enough to make pulling out of you nearly impossible-

The woman lets out a wanton moan as the man starts moving, the pace immediately fast and bruising. The sound of his balls clapping against her ass fills the room, and Gyutaro pants, his fist moving faster and faster, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He transitions from moving his arm to thrusting his stationary fist, matching the man’s pacing and imagining it’s you getting fucked, that your cries are the ones ringing in his ears and it’s your pretty tits that are bouncing and jiggling with the force of the thrusts.

From behind – shit, from behind! He instructs, his voice strained with his impending orgasm.

The man listens, pulling out and carefully slipping her over, slipping back inside and listening to the way the woman cries out. Gyutaro’s eyes focus on her breasts as they sway and jiggle – you have a very similar size, and just the thought of him fucking you hard enough to get your tits moving makes his eyes flutter closed for a moment, eyebrows drawing tightly together at the thought.

This sight is even more erotic than the last position – it’s all too easy to imagine it’s him pulling at your hips, smacking his own against your ass again and again, making you feel him so deep, deep enough to get you chanting his name like a fucking prayer. Gyutaro moves forward and uses his free hand to grab the man’s, forcing his fingers into her hair and pushing her face down against the mattress, the new position making the man groan and the woman shudder.

Gyutaro curses, letting go and putting all his effort into fucking his fist to the same tempo, trying to match the man’s perfectly. He wants to fuck you like this, he decides – leaning over you like some sort of animal, mounting you, fucking you in the most raw, animalistic way.

You’d look so damn pretty, and he’s sure your pussy would make wet noises like hers is, your slick dripping down your thighs and your pleas to give you more more more please Gyutaro, need your cum!

Gyutaro gasps hard as cum sprays all along the inside of his pants, his fist slowing to a stop as he rides out his high, eyes half lidded and all sorts of groans and sharp exhales filling the room.

The couple stares, bewildered, unsure of what to do – he’s still fucking her but more gently, and Gyutaro smirks at them, still dazed from the pleasure and the idea of doing this to you. Licking his lips, he climbs onto the windowsill, glancing over his shoulder at them.

I’m coming back tomorrow night. He stares at the woman, a wide smile splitting across his features. You’re gonna show me how to suck cock right, yeah? Gotta make sure I can guide her when she-

He stops, swallowing, his cheeks still blushed from his orgasm and from the vulgar idea of you taking him down his throat.

Don’t you tell anyone about this, eh? I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you.

And with that, he’s gone, disappeared from the windowsill and leaving the man and woman to embrace each other, shaking in fear. Meanwhile, Gyutaro’s running from roof to roof, adrenaline filling his veins because he has to see you now – he’s too pent up, and he needs to see you in person. As expected, you’re asleep by the time he reaches your home, sitting on your window edge, licking his lips and breathing hard.

You’re so fucking pretty – he crawls closer, acutely aware to be quiet and not wake you. You’d fallen asleep on your futon, the blanket still neatly folded in the corner, and Gyutaro swallows before grabbing the cloth, pulling it over you and up to your chin, his hands trembling.

He sighs, his fingers itching to reach out and touch you, to bend you into the positions he’d seen the couples trying, but he refrains. He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want you to be aware of his presence quite yet. He has to be patient, good – he’ll allow himself one pleasure, however, as he dips a finger inside his pants, scooping up some of his still warm cum and gently, gingerly smearing it across your lips, practically moaning at the sight of white against your skin.

You’re just so, so perfect – it almost makes him sick, but as he returns to the couple the next night, demanding the woman get on her knees, Gyutaro can’t help but shiver.

It may take him a while to actually touch you, but god, he’ll be ready.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your stomach

In general, one of the things that Gyutaro finds he adores about you as his obsession festers is how opposite the two of you are. Regardless of your weight, you are physically different from him – and Gyutaro notices this early on.

That is, his body is essentially just bone – skin stretched to cover his skeleton, while you have lovely warm, squishy skin covering your curves and pretty body. You’re so fucking soft – nothing on you can possibly be as hard as he is, and from the moment he first holds your waist with a slightly shaking hand he can’t help but notice this difference every time he looks at you.

He grows to love feeling the areas on you that hold the most squishiness, and his favorite place of all is your stomach. There’s something so relaxing about how warm the area is, your skin practically his personal hand warmer as he slides his hands into your kimono, his palms pressed snugly against your tummy.

They don’t move much; stationary, just simply feeling, the intention not inherently sexual. However, as you bring back small traces of his long-buried humanity, you also bring back traces of his libido, something that’s been noticeably gone throughout the duration of his time as a demon.

And so, as urges to kiss and touch you slowly begin seeping into his mind, Gyutaro slowly becomes fixated on the fact that you’re so fucking soft, the perfect thing for him to squeeze and lick and fuck until you’re crying and begging for more more more –

His sex drive isn’t monumental, but Gyutaro would be blatantly lying if he said he hasn’t fantasized about how soft you’d feel underneath him before, your pretty body on display for his greedy eyes.

He’s seen many humans naked, but the first time he sees you without any clothing on, his hands are immediately reaching out – and, surprisingly, heading directly for your stomach. His breaths come out harsher as he stares down at your exposed belly, the skin even softer somehow than when it touches it under your clothes.

As he starts regularly fucking you, get ready for his hands to always be gravitating towards your stomach, his fingers pressing into the soft fat while you writhe and squirm in his lap as he forces you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling back into his head while he practically drools.

He loses his composure during sex, and it’ll be more than apparent in the way he grasps onto your tummy like it’s his life line, as if you’re the only thing tethering him to Earth while his orgasm crashes over him.

And god, when he’s got you laying in front of him, your pretty legs parted to expose the soft, warm pussy he claims as his, Gyutaro uses your stomach as almost a pillow – he’s watching his fingers appearing and disappearing out of your cunt, your juices smeared across his pale skin as he rests his forehead on the softness of your lower belly.

His eyes are wide and unblinking, his lips parted in awe as he watches the way you just take them, your velvety walls clenching down repeatedly, hard enough to make his mouth water. He’s always leaving small kisses against your stomach after sex, an oddly sweet gesture that makes every bruise he leaves on your body from the rough fucking feeling slightly better.

It’s strange, his fascination, and at first you have the terrible, horrible fear that his obsession stems from wanting to grow his family with a child. It’s a terrifying thought, one you try to put out of your head, but eventually (after he forces you to tell him, his eyes turning dark and threatening as he demands you to tell me, don’t keep any secrets from me, ever) the fear is lost, as Gyutaro regretfully informs you that demons are infertile.

You’re relieved, but the question only seems to further ignite his obsession with your stomach – you’ll catch him speaking to it when you’re asleep, odd little confessions of if only I could… when you wake up.

Essentially, Gyutaro is obsessed with your tummy because it’s soft and squishy and fuck you’re so very pretty. 

His fingers 

Generally speaking, Gyutaro isn’t particularly fond of any specific body part of his own.

He’s proud of his ability to fight and destroy, but especially in the context of physical attractiveness, Gyutaro firmly believes what he’s always been told. He knows he’s unappealing; how could anyone ever like a monster with such a grotesque body and face?

It’s a cycle of self-deprecation that he’s found comfort in for most of his life, but once you appear, suddenly he’s wildly disappointed that he isn’t more handsome. He wishes he had a fuller figure, muscle spanning his chest and back, just like all those slayers he sees.

He wishes he had softer hair, a more symmetrical smile, less facial blemishes, everything.

He hates that he’s limited to human beauty ideals, but he can’t help it – how can he, when you’re around him looking so cute and adorable? You’re not perfect either (though he loves your imperfections perhaps more than anything else), but he wants to be perfect for you.

And so, while Gyutaro silently wallows in his self-misery, he slowly discovers that despite his lack of sexual experience and general understanding of human female anatomy, you seem to really, really like his fingers.

His nails were, initially, something you’d quickly stammered out a w-wait! to when he’d tried to shove a finger inside, and while he hadn’t appreciated your interruption, when you mentioned he could stab you and make you bleed with how sharp they were, he reluctantly digressed.

It’s not hard to bite off the excess sharpness of the nail, grinding them down to a roundness against the flesh of his finger, perfectly safe.

The first time he’d fingered you, Gyutaro was shocked at how impossibly warm, wet and tight you were inside. It was like touching velvet – so soft, your walls sucking him in and seeming to almost invite him inside, as if you wanted him there, like you didn’t want him to leave.

He’s staring transfixed at the way you take them, your pussy squelching as he slowly thrusts them in and out, your little squeals making his cheeks flush a very light pink. He loves the way you gasp when he curls them just so, brushing against the spongey spot he’s memorized as your favorite.

He loves to abuse the area; watching as your eyes squeeze closed, your fingers grasping onto his shoulders, your thighs tensing and clenching, your little cries of his name and yes – yes please ‘Taro, fuck please!

He loves how quickly he can get you falling apart with his fingers, how you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess once he gets you below him. It boosts his confidence, and occasionally between thrusts inside, he’ll pull his fingers out and suck on them, his own little groan slipping out as he savors your taste, all musky and heavy.

And of course, once he discovers your clit, it’s over for you – he’s never leaving the small button alone, the bundle of nerves positively sore by the time he’s done with you. He’s rubbing small circles against it, drawing figure eights, writing the kanji for his name with the tip of his finger, anything he can to get your back arching up, your toes curling and your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ he loves so much.

He’s constantly bewildered by just how much pleasure he can deliver you with only his hands, and so as he squeezes and gropes at your ass, breasts, stomach, anything and everything, just know that he’s feeling nearly as good as you are.

After all, those bandages as pants may be loose, but you can still see a very clear outline of just how excited he is – and just how much he’s enjoyed the way you’ve made a mess of his fingers, if the wet stain around said outline is any indicator. He just really, really likes using his fingers on you, so just let him, yeah?

DRIVE:

Gyutaro’s never been that horny. Having been turned into a demon while young, he’s never really experienced the human emotion of lust, his sexual urges having faded out from his teenage years to nearly nothing. He’s too consumed by other emotions – anger, jealousy, pity – to really focus on something so arbitrary, something so human.

And so, as a result of this repressed sexual drive Gyutaro doesn’t immediately begin lusting after you once his obsession with you begins to form. He isn’t desperate to fuck you the moment he realizes he feels some twisted form of love, nor does he want to touch you in any way that’s inherently sexual.

Instead, his urges to be with you and feel your skin are much, much more innocent in nature – of course, he’s still a man-eating monster, but he wants to touch your cheek just because it looks soft.

He wants to run his hands along your sides because you’re so small compared to his looming figure, and he wants to make sure that you’re real.

He wants to know how it feels to have you in his arms, because he’s seen human couples doing that and it’s a show of intimacy and connection between two people, and that’s what he wants to have with you.

As time passes, his urges towards you slowly begin moving towards the area of lusting, however. Soon he’s wanting to kiss you; his lips are always chapped, of course, and he’s sure his breath smells atrocious, but your lips look so soft and warm, like they’d be perfect to press against his own.

He imagines pressing you against his body as you kiss him, your hands resting against his chest as you sigh into his mouth, the human form of affection seeming so intimate and lovely and necessary.

It’s some long lost repressed human part of him driving these desires, but Gyutaro can’t find it in himself to care – especially not after the first time he sees you nude. He’s seen dozens of humans naked before; he lives in the Entertainment District after all, and when he’s devouring someone, he’s not particularly respectful with keeping them covered up.

However, there’s something different about you – maybe it’s because he feels so attached to you, or maybe it’s because he suddenly can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to embrace your naked body with his own, free of any fabric separating the both of you while he indulges in your warmth, softness, the plush skin of your body.

He’s not sure, but regardless, after that moment suddenly all those sexual feelings leftover from his time as a human come rushing back to him – he’s hard without even realizing it, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he simply stares, his expression going dumb.

You’re uncomfortable with it, he can tell by the way you avoid his gaze, but he can’t find it in himself to care – you’re so beautiful, perfect for him in every possible way. And so, after that night, Gyutaro finds himself inching closer and closer towards the final level of intimacy, pushing the boundaries just a bit more each night until he’s eventually got you perched in his lap, his hands placed on your hips.

You’re both naked, your breasts placed tantalizingly close, close enough to be able to reach out and wrap his lips around your nipple, to suck and watch you keen, to maybe even sigh out his name…

He’s rendered mute by your pussy the first time he fucks you, truly too pussydrunk to really even think, as embarrassing as it is. The big, strong Gyutaro falls so easily to your body – one clench and he’s shuddering, every nerve in his body on fire as he tries not to come quite yet – only lasting thirty seconds is wildly embarrassing, and while you’d never poke fun at him for fear of dying, Gyutaro grits his teeth and tries to hold on to his dignity.

And so, sex with you becomes a regular craving for the demon. His urges aren’t too unbearable, and he only ever acts on it a few nights a week, but be prepared because Gyutaro will fuck you, and you will like it – he'll make sure you come, and doesn’t that mean you’re enjoying yourself?

But until he gather up enough courage to actually fuck you, Gyutaro takes baby steps. He can’t do too much all at once – he gets too overwhelmed, too shy and embarrassed because you’re looking at him, your pretty eyes and face and voice giving him attention. It makes his lips go numb, anxiously scratching at his arms and struggling to meet your gaze because god he wants to touch you and hear you moan his name, but how does one go about that, exactly?

Sure, he knows the basics of sex and has watched couples initiate it, but it’s different with you. It’s different because Gyutaro isn’t stupid – he knows you’re afraid of him, that he’s too grotesque and ugly for you to ever really want to be intimate with, and these thoughts make it hard for him to just take what he wants from you.

And so, he starts small – he'll touch you a little more, fingertips pressing hard into your sides when he ghosts his hands there, trying to be gentle but struggling to regulate his strength because you’re so close to him.

He’ll let his fingers brush over your hair, never enough for you to feel but just enough for the texture to become familiar, always bringing his fingers up to his nose and smelling them afterwards, something between a growl and a moan slipping from his lips at the scent.

He’ll reach out and lightly, oh so lightly press his thumb against your cheek, marveling at how soft your skin is and how warm it is, mumbling something under his breath about how you’re too pretty, how it makes him sick that you’re too damn pretty.

His breathing will be a little unsteady when his does this, those yellow eyes of his glancing between your own and your lips, contemplating in a way that he thinks is much more subtle than it actually is.

He wants all sorts of human intimacy with you, and the next thing that he wants to tackle is kissing you. The idea is strange to him - why do humans press their mouths together? It must feel good, but why? He’s curious, but touching you has such an effect on him, so surely tasting you would suck the air right out of his lungs, leaving his knees feeling weak and making pink bloom across his cheeks.

He doesn’t ask you for permission, instead one day coming to sit beside you against the wall of the lair, that familiar concentrated look in his eye. He’ll ask you some question whose answer he doesn’t care about – just to see your lips moving, watching with sharp eyes how your tongue contorts and moves inside your mouth, sometimes flicking out to lick at your lips, the sight almost making him whimper.

Soon, he can’t just watch – he’s rushing forward without any warning, pressing against you with a level of force that makes you yelp. His lips are dry and cracked (despite him having licked them excessively in preparation for this moment, wishing to make them as soft and pleasant as possible), and they’re not moving – he’s staying perfectly still, eyes wide open and staring at you.

It scares you, because while you know what he’s doing, the experience is anything but pleasant. He stays like that for a few moments, before slowly, very slowly moving, his lips clumsy and unsure as they work at you. It feels like he’s trying to eat you – his tongue and teeth stay firmly inside his mouth, but his lips keep trying to fit more and more of you into his mouth at once, saliva smearing across bits of your cheek and chin.

You’re still completely frozen, unsure of what to do, and Gyutaro pulls back, scowling. It had felt good – in a strange way, a way that made something in his stomach feel tight and warm, but he’s sure it would feel much better if you were participating too, if you’d actually kiss him back. Don’t just sit there, he’ll warble to you, not willing to actually ask you to kiss him back, his pride barring him from practically begging for what he wants.

(Though as your sexual relationship progresses, this pride slowly withers away and dies – to the point where he’ll get on his knees and beg for you to open your pretty mouth and suck him off, because even though he could force you easily, it always feels better when you consent, when you at pretend to actually want him.)

This time, as he leans in, your lips move too, trying to match his awkward kisses. Gyutaro groans at that, leaning further against you, the weight causing you to fall backwards, lying flat on your back. You’d pulled away from the kiss during the fall, and as Gyutaro stares down at you hungrily, he swallows, sucking through his teeth harshly and trying to get every drop of your saliva down his throat. You must really, really want him, huh?

The sight simultaneously flusters and flatters him, and before you can say a word he’s scrambling over you, pressing his lips against yours harshly, with vigor, his tongue slipping out and practically forcing its way down your throat. You just taste so fucking good – it's addictive, and the knowledge that you’d laid down for him, wanting him to hover over you and mimic sex making his head swim. He’s breathing hard through his nose, almost wheezing, and you quickly shut your eyes, not wanting to look at his still wide-open ones.

He kisses you for a long, long time – easily thirty minutes, not tiring of the feeling, his tongue still actively rubbing against yours, tracing every tooth and managing to dip into every crevice in your mouth, each new area making him groan and get just a hair more desperate.

When he eventually pulls away, he licks your lips and smiles shakily, a hand coming down to pet at your hair. Next time, will you take you shirt off? It probably grosses you out, huh, that request?

And when you nod with wide eyes, too scared to say no, Gyutaro will exhale slowly, nodding and muttering a series of slurred good’s and your name under his breath, before stalking off out of the lair. Once out of your sight he’s stopping, a hand coming up to scratch at the area right over his heart, his face morphing into something between despair and prevenance.

You’re just so damn pretty – he can’t handle the sight of you, and the image of you laid out before him, looking up at him with those eyes makes every muscle in his body tense, that familiar warm feeling in his groin growing tighter and tighter, and as a hand snakes down to palm at the now very noticeable and wet bulge in his pants, Gyutaro decides that he needs to speed this process up.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can take holding himself back – not if touching you and tasting you and making you gasp feel this good.

(Later that night, as he hovers over your sleeping form and tugs near painfully on his cock, Gyutaro decides that the next step can happen right then and there – you’d look so good with his cum smeared all across your face, wouldn’t you?)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

While Gyutaro has a difficult time believing your compliments initially, with time he grows much more willing (and desperate) to indulge in your sweet words.

Your kind praises of his caring actions – no matter how forced the words are – have him melting inside, his heart pounding in his chest while he struggles to hold your gaze. He reverts to a bit of a teenage boy in moments where you compliment him – and during sex?

Well, Gyutaro nearly passes out the first time you compliment his body. It takes so much courage for him to show you himself nude, if only because he’s so scared of the way you’ll react. What if you think he’s ugly, or weird, or repulsive? What if you wince at the sight of him, or cower when he tries to touch you or make you touch him?

He’s so scared, so when you run your hands along his arms and tell him he’s handsome, he’s staring at you with wide eyes. He’s simultaneously hateful and in love with the vulnerability you make him feel, so please, please compliment him during sex.

He needs the validation that you like him, that he’s making you feel good, and while he’ll never actually say it aloud, your words turn him on more than you know. Just hearing his name roll off your tongue has his eyes rolling backwards, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you, to feel your soft skin. He loves when you tell him sweet things about his body; tell him he’s attractive, that you love how strong he is, that you love how muscular his arms are.

Tell him his eyes are pretty, that you love tunneling your fingers through his hair while he fucks you with his tongue, that you love the way his fingers stretch you out and get you seeing stars.

Compliment the things that he does in bed; tell him that you love how he growls and bites at your neck with those sharp teeth of his, that you love when he manhandles you and grunts into your ear as he rolls his hips into yours.

And of course, tell him how he makes you feel – he’ll groan your name and his hips will stutter if you say his cock feels so – so good Gyutaro, mm please! Need more, need more of you –

Tell him that he feels so good inside of you, that he’s going to make you come because it’s all too much, and you’ll see him physically freeze up, his eyes wide and a bit of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth because god, are you talking about him?

Moan his name and make a show of writhing around underneath him, arching your back and gasping out that he’s so big! T’s too much Gyu, gonna make me come!

Tell him anything and everything that comes to your mind, the more depraved the better. He likes to hear you become reduced to incoherent whimpers because of him, and with each praise that slips past your lips, Gyutaro feels his confidence slowly rise until he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon.

He’ll be bearing his teeth and whispering the filthiest things into your ear, the confidence boosting his system like nothing else. He’s calling you his, possessive petnames right and left as he practically abuses your cunt with his cock, pounding into you with such fervor that it’s almost like he’s trying to mold your pussy into the shape of his cock.

He’s demanding you tell him how he feels; growls of tell me what you want me to do to you filling the space between you, the panting breaths and moans rushing into the empty air. He’s telling you to take it, f-fuck, so damn tight, do I make you this tight, huh?

He wants you to mindlessly agree, to clutch onto his body and squeeze around him, milking him for absolutely everything he can give to you until you’re spasming around his cock, coming all over him and whimpering underneath him, your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears beading in your lashes from the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving to you.

And if you were to worship any part of his body?

He’s not sure what you’re doing at first – why are you sinking to your knees and moving so slowly in front of him? You’re taking your time with his cock, letting your eyes gaze over every single inch of him, the attention making his neck flush and embarrassing him. And yet, he doesn’t stop you – because when you whisper out that he’s so pretty, I love your cock Gyutaro, he nearly malfunctions, his nails digging into his palms as his hips involuntarily jerk, his cock bobbing slightly with the motion.

He wants you to kiss every inch of him, to suckle on his tip and let your tongue dip into his hypersensitive slit, the sensation making him gasp sharply and his eyes close tightly.

He wants you to gently fondle his balls, to whisper against his skin in between licks against his shaft that you wanna taste you, can I please taste you Gyu? Wanna make you come, you look so pretty when you do…

He’ll let you do anything you damn well please when you’ve got him like this – his eyes are watching your every move, his breath hitched, his heart fluttering in his chest as his orgasm comes much too soon, the emotional weight of your words and adoring actions making him desperate to give you the cum you claim you need.

He just really, really likes when you give him positive attention in the bedroom, so please narrate everything you’re feeling. He wants to know every possible detail, and he’ll strive to keep touching and pleasing you until you’re screaming his name and a jumbled, slurred series of yes and please and I love you. 

Breast Fixation

Gyutaro, to put it lightly, develops a sort of fascination with your chest. He has no sexual experience with women, and consequently has neither felt nor seen a living, naked woman’s breasts before.

Of course, he’s been curious; victims he’s in the middle of devouring who’s clothing has slipped down in the process of his meal, where their tits are hanging out of the fabric, looking soft and supple and perfect to touch. He’ll reach out and halfheartedly squeeze, but the dead flesh isn’t the same as a living, breathing woman’s – besides, his hunger is too strong for him to really process how soft, pliable, and squishy it is.

And so, once he has you, someone to fantasize about and imagine naked (frequently), Gyutaro is suddenly very interested in seeing what you look like shirtless. He’s always paid close attention to the way your chest looks in your kimonos; the fabric tightening through there, as if your breasts were practically begging to be freed, exposed to the world and awaiting eyes like his.

He’s always noticed the way your top exposes the line of your cleavage when you bend down to pick something up, your tits pressed together by your arms while he gets a front row seat that leaves his pants feeling tight and his throat dry.

Before he steals you away, frequent nights are spent with the image of you straddling his lap playing through his mind. He’ll imagine the way you’d shimmy out of your top, exposing your breasts to his greedy eyes, the soft flesh sitting only a few tantalizing inches away from his face.

He’d focus in on your nipples, imagining the way they’d slowly pebble from the cold air, growing tight and taut while he’s left to drool, his fingers begging to reach out and pinch, twist, and pull. He’ll imagine the way you’d look down at him with a soft smile, cupping his cheeks and asking in that soft, breathy whisper of yours if he’d touch them please Gyutaro, I want you to play with me…

He wouldn’t need to be told twice, his hands immediately reaching up to cautiously grope and squeeze.

He’s nervous at first, his touches hesitant, but as he wraps a hand around your left breast and squeezes lightly, the sigh you make in response has him gulping and squeezing harder, his other hand following suit until he’s massaging and groping at your tits like they’re his personal stress balls.

He’s painfully hard below you, his cock desperate for stimulation, but as you push his head closer to your breasts he nearly loses his mind; he’s quick to envelope a nipple into his mouth, closing his eyes while he sucks and licks at the bud as you hum and praise him, little whispers of mmm, just like that baby going straight to his cock.

He twitches with every little keen you make, and this fantasy carries over into his sex life with you. Very, very early on you’ll notice that he’s always staring at your tits whenever you’re intimate with him.

When he’s bathing you, he’s staring and gulping, not doing well to hide the way he’s very clearly ogling.

When you’re changing, he’s quickly glancing away after you catch him stealing looks at you, his cheeks pink as he holds his hands over the tent slowly forming in his pants.

And once you start fucking?

Well, you’ve noticed his fascination, and you’ll capitalize on it. Grab his cock and trace your nipples with the tip, and just watch the way he shivers, his eyes unable to look away while he whispers a gravelly fuck under his voice.

Play with your tits as you wait for him to undress, pouting up at him and begging him to hurry up, to come fuck you please, you’re too horny to wait.

Push your breasts together and ask him to fuck them, telling him it’ll feel so good, and how you want him to leave his cum all over the soft skin.

Purposefully bounce more than you actually need when he fucks you while you’re on your back, so that the fat jiggles even more and watch the way his eyes widen, his pupils dilating as he fucks into you with new fervor.

Grope and squeeze at them as he hovers over you in missionary, and you’ll feel the way his thrusts grow faster, harder, more desperate, his eyes trained on the way you work at the soft, supple flesh.

The root of his love for your breasts really comes from just how soft they are; he’s not used to anything as welcoming or comforting as your chest, and when you let him rest his head there, fall asleep behind you with a hand cupping one, letting him idly suckle at a nipple as you card your fingers through his hair, how can Gyutaro not grow to love them?

And love them he will – the copious amounts of love marks, bruises and hickeys littering the sensitive skin will make his obsession more than obvious, as will the way he essentially creams his pants the first time his fingers brush against them.

The large stain against the fabric and the slack-jawed, red-faced expression he gives you will have you more than aware that just a simple flash of your tits will leave Gyutaro puddy in your hands, willing to do anything for you.

Hand Holding

It’s not really a kink, but as your sexual relationship with Gyutaro progresses, you’ll find that more often than not he manages to snake his hand into yours. When he’s fucking you in missionary, hips smacking against you fast and hard, he’s holding your hands above your head, gritting his teeth and whining in your ear because you’re too – too fucking tight, shit, ‘m gonna come, you want that? You want my cum in you?

He’ll start off with his hand wrapped around your wrist, but as the sex continues and he gets closer to his orgasm, he’ll switch to interlacing his fingers with yours, pressing your hand hard against the mattress, the tendons in his hands and forearms flexing as his abs and balls clench up, warm cum flooding your cunt and leaving him gasping your name.

When he’s got you bent over, pretty ass on display as he stuffs you full with his cock, he’ll lean over you, a large hand covering one of yours, dwarfing yours and overwhelming you even more, his body literally covering every inch of yours.

Even when perched on top of him, grinding against him and biting your lip because it feel so very good, he’ll alternate between cupping the globes of your ass and catching your hand, clutching it in his hand as he tries to keep his grounding and not come too quickly.

Frankly, it’s almost unconscious – he doesn’t actively realize it’s happening until you point it out to him, in which case he’ll grow defensive, telling you that you’re wrong and mistaken, embarrassed to admit that he naturally does something so human, so weak and gentle.

But really, it’s just another way to extend the intimacy with you – you’re so pretty and sweet and so very lovely, and though he’s kidnapped you and forced you into some twisted form of a relationship with him, there’s something about the moments where he’s inside of you that leaves him feeling fuzzy, warm, wanted. And perhaps it’s the centuries of neglect and self-hatred that lead him to desperately chase that feeling of security and acceptance, or perhaps it’s just natural instinct left over from his human days.

Regardless, Gyutaro will almost exclusively only ever orgasm if your hand is somehow touching his – he needs that intimacy to let himself finish, emptying himself inside of you while clutching onto you, keeping you there and steady and still, stopping you from squirming away or escaping when he’s trying to give you his cum, gifting you with the most intimate, personal thing he could. And when he’s coming, he’s squeezing at your hand, hard.

The pleasure is just so overwhelming, and he needs something to grasp onto, something to keep him grounded and keep him from rutting into you and humping you into overstimulation, his cries and warbled moans sounding pitiful. He doesn’t mean to crush your hand, but sometimes he’ll hold so tightly that you wind up with big finger-shaped bruises across your palms and the back of your hands, the sight making Gyutaro ashamed because he hadn’t meant to hurt you, but also pleased because now he’s marked you.

There’ll be a constant reminder of him every time you look down at your hands, every time you do basic tasks or touch things. It's a thought that makes him weirdly smug, and so while Gyutaro will often try to deny your accusations of him always holding your hand during sex, but he knows it’s true.

(But really, you should be grateful it’s just your hand – at least it’s not your throat, where he’s much likelier to lose control.)

But even outside of when he orgasms, Gyutaro really, really likes to hold your hands. His favorite time to consciously do it is when he’s got you perched in his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder while you lean back against his chest.

He’ll want you fully nude so that he’s free to explore and roam your body with his hands, occasionally pinching at your stomach or groping at your breast. He wants you sat on his cock, the hard length nestled inside of you while you both simply bask in each other’s presence, him turning to bury his nose against your neck and deeply inhaling, his cock twitching inside of you.

Gyutaro grows a penchant for cockwarming with you as time goes by, because while he doesn’t always want to fuck you (though it’s not too terribly difficult to persuade him – just say please and he’s putty in your hands, so frantic to get his cock out that he’s ripping at the bandages of his pants) there’s something about the intimacy of being inside you but just cuddling you or holding you that satisfies his clinginess.

Plus, this way he can indulge in the feeling of your cunt in a non-sexual way – you’re just so warm and inviting, taking his breath away every time without fail, the sensation so lovely and foreign to him that he wants to spend every possible moment inside of you, even if he’s not fucking you stupid. And the whole time he's lodged inside you like this, his fingers are wrapped around yours, marveling at the size different and tracing the lines and patterns on your hand.

They’re just so much softer and better than his – so innocent and not capable of so much death and destruction as his. You’re just so cute, in a way that makes him crazy, and he’d be stupid to not take advantage of having someone like you to touch and taste and share his best.

And Gyutaro is many things, but stupid is not one of them.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Cock Worship

Although Gyutaro isn’t an inherently selfish lover, he can’t deny that having you fawn over him gets him hot under the collar, his pants growing uncomfortably tight and his mouth feeling dry. There’s just something about the idea of you worshipping him that gets him equal parts mortified and horribly aroused.

To have all of your attention on him in a non-sexual context steals his breath away, making him struggle to seem interesting and cool and attractive, even if he knows he isn’t. And so, in a sexual context this is only amplified – he wants you to like him, to find his body and him generally attractive, and to have you blatantly doing that during sex would make his head spin, embarrassment eating him alive even as he enjoys every second of it.

And to have you worship any part of his body is wonderful, but to have you worship between his legs?

Well, his cock’s not especially pretty, and he knows it – it’s long, long enough that it’s right on the border between hurting and pleasurable when he sinks inside all the way to the hilt. It’s sensitive, always leaking precum so it’s sticky and wet and glistening, with a set of heavy, swollen balls sprinkled with black hairs hung right below.

It’s intimidating and will leave you a bit nervous of how he’ll possibly fit inside of you, but Gyutaro’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he sees and feels your fingers wrap around him, pumping and flicking your wrist at the tip, the sensation of you jerking him off making his hips buck up into the air.

Having you give him long, slow, lazy pumps of your fist while you list off all the reasons you love his cock in between sloppy, wet kisses would have Gyutaro coming in mere minutes, the attention and praise going directly between his legs.

When you’re on your knees in front of him, make him shudder and flush by gripping him, making a show of licking from the base to the tip, suckling on the swollen, red tip and flicking your tongue against his slit, dipping in slightly and feeling the way he throbs in your mouth.

Move down to fondle and suck at his balls – if you’re able to fit a whole one in your mouth, you’ll hear a strangled s-stop, stop stop stop ‘m gonna come too fast, the pleasure literally too much for him to handle.

Give him the erotic sight of you tracing the outline of your lips with his tip, smearing precum all over them so that they’re glistening with a clear, off-white sheen. Rub the outside of your cheek against his length while you stare up at him, licking your lips and smiling, and you’ll literally see his face turning red, his sharp teeth biting at his lip and drawing blood because fuck, you’re so sexy and provocative and having you say that you love his cock is making his heart flutter.

And when he’s inside you, thrusting in and out and making you clench and tighten up, purposefully flex the muscles, making everything tighter and more intense, telling him that he deserves the tightest you can offer, and feel the way he immediately busts inside of you, the groan that forces its way past his lips sounding pained and desperate and pathetic.

 Which brings us to another major facet of his enjoyment of cock worship – please worship his cum. It’s a bit runny and thin, shooting out of him in long spurts, always wickedly warm and getting absolutely everywhere. Let him come inside you – whine out a  please give it to me Gyutaro, need you to come for me, please please want your cum!

He’s stuffing you full every time he fucks you, those yellow eyes of his eagerly watching it ooze out of you after he’s pulled out. When you’re sucking and licking at him, let him push your head as far down as you can go, sending rope after rope down your throat, his nails digging into your scalp as he gives a few sad last spurts, only a drop or so managing to hit your tongue.

Let him pull out of your mouth and give himself a few good tugs, cum splattering all over your face while he groans your name and a slurred take it. Lick it off your lips and look up at him with cum all over your cheeks and chin, and you’ll see the way he snarls and throws you onto the makeshift bed he shares with you, immediately ripping your thighs apart and diving into you like a man starved, the wet noises of his tongue diving between your folds absolutely depraved.  

You’re just so, so very wonderful when you’re worshipping him, so please do – one the bright side, it’s the absolute fastest way to get him to come, just as long as you sound like you really mean it.

Spitting

This kink is one that takes both you and Gyutaro by surprise. It happens very suddenly, and it takes a moment for both of you to process exactly what’s happened, Gyutaro’s spit sitting against your tongue and tasting like him.

It’s a manifestation of his possessiveness over you – you’re his. His little human, his lovely woman, his pretty cunt to touch and fuck and bury himself inside of for hours on end. And so, when he’s got you folded into a mating press, strong arms keeping your thighs pinned to your chest with absolutely no wiggle room, your face all screwed up in pleasure and your occasional gasps of his name, how can Gyutaro not want to mark you as his?

You’ll find that he often uses those possessive nicknames for you in the bedroom too, always going on and on about how you’re his girl, his cunt, his love.

And really, spitting in your mouth and on you is just a natural progression of this sentiment. He starts off with spitting onto your breasts – a glob of saliva landing on a sensitive nipple, making everything slick as he pinches and toys with the area, hearing you keen above him.

Then it’ll transition to him spitting onto your collarbone, rubbing the wetness over the bone, leaning down to suck dark hickeys against your skin, getting the area even more sticky with his saliva.

He’ll move on to spitting directly onto your cunt after that, spreading your pretty folds and letting the spit land right over your quivering hole, loving the way you jerk slightly at the weird sensation. It makes it easier when he fingers you, just that extra layer of wetness making his fingers glide in and out of you, pulling moans and whines from your lips.

He’ll spit at your asshole when he’s got you bent over, thumb rubbing against the hole and only slightly dipping in, enjoying the way you yelp and get all tense.

It’s only after he’s grown comfortable with spitting all over your body that he finally ends up seeing your open mouth under him as he fucks you with fast, harsh thrusts, hovering above you and staring down at you without blinking. He’ll spit directly onto your tongue, staring with panting breaths, before telling you in that familiar strained voice to swallow, his eyes watching the way your throat bobs as you do what he says.

It’s hot, really – the kind of thing that makes his cock twitch and bob, the idea that you have his saliva inside of you making something in his gut sit pleasantly.

And if you were to spit in his mouth, Gyutaro would actually fucking whimper. He wants you to be possessive over him, to want him all to yourself, to think of him as yours – and if you were to be riding him, hips clapping against his as you milk him for everything he’s worth, Gyutaro would gladly open his mouth wide, waiting with baited breath and shut eyes to feel your warm spit against his tongue. He’ll swallow for you, even opening his mouth again in case you’re feeling generous and want to give him more.

He just thinks it’s hot, and he’d be more than willing to bring spitting into your non-sexual lives too – it’s just so intimate and meaningful, don’t you agree?

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Gyutaro is a massive fan of touching you.

There’s quite literally nothing about your body or yourself that could ever turn him off; he thinks every inch of you is exquisite, no matter what your personal qualms may be. And because he thinks of you as something so wonderful and sweet and his, he finds everything that your body does equally as arousing as your pretty face.

 And so, while he’s never given it much thought, the moment he smells blood in the air around you, he’s immediately fighting off both his appetite and the intense fear coursing through him because why the fuck are you bleeding?

He’s not sure what’s going on initially, until he follows the blood source and finds it to be between your trembling legs. You’re scared, understandably, at why he’s so suddenly yanking your legs apart, eyes boring right into your crotch, but when he starts ripping at the cloth covering you, there’s not much you can do.

And so, once you explain what’s going on after his frantic why are you bleeding is asked in a panicked voice, suddenly Gyutaro is stiffening up, his thoughts running wild. He’d always been just slightly curious – you smell so sweet, and while there’s no part of him that desires to eat you, there’s something about the way your blood smells, the way you smell…

He quickly learns that having sex with you while you’re on your period is his absolute favorite. You’re so sensitive and pliable, your face screwing up at even the slightest presses of his fingers against your clit, your pussy always wet with blood, easy to slip his fingers in and out of.

He loves it, and the way your smell grows even more pronounced during this time has his head spinning, and fuck the taste –

He thinks he’s lost his mind the first time his lips touch your pussy with a smear of your blood across it, the sweet and metallic taste making his hips involuntarily jerk, his orgasm dangerously close already.

He’s always, always willing to pleasure you while you’re menstruating, to the point where he’s actively offering once he smells that familiar tinge of metal in the air, practically begging you with those half lidded eyes to let me make you feel good, yeah? I’ll be gentle, or at least I’ll try.

He’s careful with his motions at first, though it doesn’t last long – his fingers press into your thighs, nails dangerously close to piercing the skin, while his tongue laps at your cunt like a man starved.

Besides, aren’t orgasms healthy for women, especially during this time of the month? He’s heard so from the other Oirans (in hushed, embarrassed whispers), and what kind of a lover would he be if he didn’t attempt to take care of your every need? 

You winced, the cramps in your lower stomach making shifting your sitting position difficult. Your period had arrived very suddenly – it was just starting, and a quick swipe of your fingers below your panties had you sighing in frustration. The dank light of the lair was bright enough to show the red stain of your fingers as you retracted your hand, and with a dejected sloop of your shoulders you leaned back against the dirt wall. Eyes closed, you let your arms wrap around your stomach, resigned to the knowledge that you’ll bleed out through your clothes and onto the dirt ground below before you’d ever ask Gyutaro for sanitary supplies. 

Not that he’d say no – although, maybe that scared you more. 

Daki scrunched up her nose as she registered the smell, sending you a look. “What’s that stench?”

You bit your lip, quickly apologizing. “I’m sorry, it should be over in…” 

Unsure of how much Daki knew of menstruation, you left the question unanswered, instead wincing as another cramp rolled through. She grunted, her brow twitching as she crossed her arms. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

You glanced at her, begging with your eyes for her to leave it alone, and despite her scowl, she merely sighed and pivoted on her heel, jumping up to race out of the lair and into the night air far above. You sighed as well, closing your eyes and relaxing as much as you could. 

Your relaxation was cut short, however, as a loud bang and a voice wailed out, “Why is there blood? What’s going on?”

Gyutaro had arrived, and as you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of him rushing forward, grabbing a knee in each hand and spreading your legs with a surprising amount of force. 

“From here…” He muttered, head leaning down as his gaze focused on your clothed pussy, the kimono and underwear you’d been dressed in earlier that day already seeped through with blood. The red stained the fabric, sending Gyutaro into a further state of panic. 

Nails dug into his neck and chest as he stared wildly at you, leaning deeply into your personal space as he growled, “What happened?”

You shrank back, stuttering out, “I – I’m menstruating.”

Gyutaro blinked, his breath heavy with the panic still running through him. “What?”

“I’m menstruating. I’m okay, I’m – I’m not injured.” Your voice was weak, but Gyutaro didn’t seem to notice. 

“What is menstruation?” He asked, the scratching sound of his fingers against his neck still prominent in your ears. “Well?”

“It’s um, a sign that I’m fertile…” You whispered, fear squeezing at your heart. 

Gyutaro stared at you for a moment, before glancing down between your legs. “Are you in pain? Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, hoping he’d believe the lie. 

A moment passed, before he visibly gulped. He slowly lied down on his stomach, his hands frozen for a second before suddenly ripping at your clothing. The area surrounding your pussy was ripped off, exposing yourself to the cold air as you gasped and shivered. The sudden motions were over before you can blink, Gyutaro’s eyes trained on your bloodstained folds. 

He looked like a child in a candy store; dilated pupils, his breathing heavy, lips parted enough to allow drool to pool at the edges. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to not flinch when he was this close to you, especially as you saw his razor sharp teeth. 

You yelped when a finger reached out to very lightly brush over your pussy, his skin just barely grazing your own. You bit your lip. 

He repeated his ministration, adding a bit more pressure. A moan slipped past your lips as his finger passed over your clit, and immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as his gaze snaped back up to you. His face was bright red, you realized, the blush heavy over his cheeks as licked at his lips. With his gaze still locked on yours, he pressed back on that same spot, your clit oversensitive and making you lowly groan, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he began rubbing up and down the area. 

“G-gyutaro…” You whined out, tucking your lower lip under your teeth as you lightly squirmed. He watched with rapt attention. You seemed to be enjoying yourself – do you like being touched while you’re ‘menstruating’? As long as you weren’t injured with all this blood – this blood, that was such an intoxicating, delicious scent, the best thing he’s ever smelled. 

With a small, wobbly smile up at you, Gyutaro suddenly dove in, lips pressing against your folds as you gasped and jerked your hips, sending him in even deeper so that his nose brushed against your clit. You gasped his name, encouraging him to dart his tongue out, your blood immediately registered on his taste buds. His eyes blew wide, his hips jerking forward against the ground, the sudden wave of arousal because of your scent making his knees feel weak. He moaned around your skin, his tongue eagerly licking and getting to work against your sensitive skin. 

Groans and whimpers vibrated against you, his sounds rivaling your own as you moaned and reached a hand down to run through his hair. Gyutaro’s grip on your thighs tightened at the feeling, and when you tugged a bit at the roots, the growl that left his lips had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Gyu-“ You started, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensitivity of his tongue on you. It was too much – the pleasure too acute, but as a hand left the plush of your thighs and instead snaked down to press against your clit, you gasped. 

A strangled moan slipped past your lips as Gyutaro worked his finger in circles against your bundle of nerves, his tongue still licking and slurping against your folds. The combination of the stimulation had your head spinning, the sensation nearly too much, and as you whined out his name and dug your fingers even more harshly against his scalp, Gyutaro couldn’t help but moan in response. 

You tasted so fucking good – the best blood he’s ever feasted on. Sweet, yet savory, a taste entirely your own. His cock was achingly hard in his pants, pressing against the bandaged cloth as he ground his hips against the dirt floor of the lair, the pressure not nearly enough to relieve the terrible ache. He wanted more more more – more of you, more of your perfect little pussy, more of the sounds slipping past your lips, more of the taste of your blood. 

Soon you were shaking, thighs trembling as your orgasm crashed through you, your head throwing back as you cried out, slick and blood mixed together on Gyutaro’s tongue, chin and fingers. His thumb never stopped its motions, continuing the bliss as you slowly came down from your high, your clit nearly rubbed raw as the overstimulation began hitting you. 

Squirming, you tried to push his head away from your cunt, but Gyutaro’s growl had you stopping quickly. 

Pulling back slightly (only enough to speak), Gyutaro warned in a low voice out of breath, “Don’t move, stay still or I’ll make you come so much you cry.”

You only gulped and nodded, the feeling of his nails pressing into your thigh making you shiver, your hips jerking at the overwhelming sensation of Gyutaro’s ministrations. 

“Tastes so good, so so so good –“ Gyutaro moaned, the sound muffled against your skin as he gulped and sucked at your pussy, nearly making out with your delicate folds. You whined, squeezing your eyes shut tightly – it was too much. 

But for Gyutaro, it’d never be enough; after all, how could he let such a delicacy between your legs be taken for granted? Especially when you looked so pretty all panting and bloody once he’d fucked you with his tongue, fingers and cock more times than you could count.

[solxamber]

Hi! Loved your villainess series and i can't wait for a Jamil chapter! In the meantime, do you mind if I request Jamil x a reader whom the Asims are absolutely terrified of? As in they're one of the most genuinely kind people out there but they could eradicate you with a snap of their fingers when pissed (though they only do that in extreme situations and are pretty reasonable). So as soon as Jamil starts dating them, everyone in the Asim household starts walking on eggshells around him cause they don't want to be eradicated off the face of the earth. He still has to do his job but the more dangerous aspects or any extra work is delegated to somebody else. Basically, Jamil can now be as overachieving as he wants since nobody has enough of a death wish to risk pissing off his lover.

Jamil Viper x Intimidating! reader

thank you for waiting <3 i hope you like it

The moment Jamil starts dating you, the entire Asim household becomes a drastically different place. It’s not like you’re a tyrant or anything—you’re the sweetest, kindest person they’ve ever met.

You’re always smiling, polite, and helpful. But everyone knows about that side of you. The side that only shows when something pushes too far, and you go from warm and gentle to terrifying in the blink of an eye.

It doesn’t happen often—really, it only ever happens in extreme situations—but one close encounter was more than enough to put the fear of you into the entire Asim household.

The first time it happened, one of the servants had accidentally endangered Jamil by not paying attention. Nothing too serious in hindsight, but in the heat of the moment, you had stepped in, voice cold and eyes sharp as you reprimanded the poor servant with an intensity no one expected from you.

You didn’t yell or make a huge scene, but the weight of your words and the terrifying calm in your expression was more than enough to send everyone scattering. And now, that incident has taken on a life of its own, becoming a whispered legend among the staff.

Jamil, however, is a little too amused by the whole situation. He’s never seen you lose your temper with him, and he finds it kind of satisfying watching everyone tiptoe around, desperate not to cross you.

Not to mention, it’s made his life a whole lot easier. Suddenly, all the extra dangerous or exhausting tasks that used to be piled on him are conveniently handled by someone else. No one dares to risk upsetting you by overworking him.

As you walk into the Asim estate one day, the staff noticeably scatter, heads ducked as they try not to make any mistakes in your presence. You exchange an amused look with Jamil as he walks beside you.

"Did I do something to terrify them today?" you whisper, half-joking.

Jamil smirks, clearly enjoying this more than he should. "No, they're just smart. Nobody wants to be the one responsible for angering you."

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. "I’m not that bad."

"Tell that to the servant who accidentally put me in danger last month. I think he’s still recovering," Jamil replies, his voice teasing.

You blush, feeling a little guilty. "I didn’t mean to scare him. He just needed to be more careful."

"Oh, you didn’t scare him. You petrified him," Jamil says, his smug grin growing wider. “Now, everyone’s scrambling to make sure I don’t get stuck with anything that could stress me out, all because they don’t want you to get upset on my behalf."

He’s not wrong. It’s like there’s an unspoken agreement among the staff that keeping Jamil stress-free is the key to survival.

Tasks that used to involve risky magic, late nights, or heavy lifting are reassigned before they even reach Jamil’s to-do list. And it’s not just because Jamil’s Kalim’s right-hand man; it’s because of you.

The thought of you unleashing your wrath is enough to keep the household running smoothly, with no one willing to take chances.

Jamil stretches, looking relaxed for the first time in what feels like years. “I could get used to this,” he mutters, clearly reveling in his newfound freedom from extra work.

You shoot him a playful glare. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Can you blame me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got more free time, no one’s shoving dangerous tasks my way, and I have the best motivation to keep it that way.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “That motivation being you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, warmth flooding your chest. Jamil isn’t always one for open displays of affection, but when he does say things like this, they hit hard. You can’t help but smile, reaching out to take his hand as you walk together.

"I didn’t mean to turn the whole household into a bunch of scaredy-cats," you admit, squeezing his hand.

Jamil chuckles softly, pulling you a little closer. “It’s not your fault they’re terrified. You just have... a certain presence when you’re angry.”

You snort, shaking your head. "I’m sure you’re not complaining, considering all the benefits."

"Not one bit," he says, his voice smooth and teasing. “Though I’ll admit, I don’t need them to be scared of you. I can handle my own problems.”

"Uh-huh, sure," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “And here I thought you were just enjoying the luxury of not being overworked.”

Jamil leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I enjoy being with you more.”

Your heart flips, and before you know it, you’re turning your head and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, unable to resist the moment. He seems a little taken aback, his smug exterior cracking for a second as he blinks in surprise. Then, a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face.

"Keep that up, and I might start making excuses to slack off even more," he teases.

You laugh, shaking your head. "I can’t believe you. I’m not your excuse to get out of work."

Jamil grins, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Maybe not. But you’re definitely the reason I’m a lot happier these days.”

He says it so casually, but the sincerity in his voice makes your chest feel tight with affection. You glance up at him, your hand still in his, and you realize just how much he’s changed since you started dating.

He’s still the same hardworking, overachieving Jamil, but now he’s more relaxed, more at ease. And you’re glad you can be a part of that.

Meanwhile, the staff is still scattering like leaves in the wind as you and Jamil stroll through the estate. Kalim, of course, is the only one who remains blissfully oblivious to the atmosphere.

"Hey, guys!" Kalim shouts, bounding over with a bright smile. “I just heard about a new event happening tonight! You two are coming, right?”

Jamil exchanges a glance with you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You know, Kalim, I think I’m going to take the night off. We have plans,” he says smoothly, pulling you a little closer.

Kalim grins, not missing a beat. “Oh! That’s awesome! Have fun!”

You can’t help but chuckle at Kalim’s eternal optimism, but as you walk away, you notice a few of the servants letting out relieved sighs. They clearly appreciate that Jamil is taking a break, but you’re well aware of what they’re really relieved about: keeping you happy.

Jamil’s smirk returns as you head back to your shared quarters. “I think I owe you for this.”

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For making my life a whole lot easier," he says, his voice low and teasing.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your lips as you lean into him. "Just don’t get too cocky."

Jamil grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Too late.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the Asim household will always be a little terrified of you, but if it means keeping Jamil happy and safe, you can live with that.

Masterlist

[yanderestarangel]

Wesker has consumed my mind entirely, so could I leave an request for him?

Albert wesker as the father of readers boyfriend, at first he didn’t pay much attention to them but the more often reader came by, the more his thoughts started to become intimate and every time reader would have a fight with his son, wesker would use it to make them doubt their relationship with his son.

Really love your fics, if you won’t do this request it’s fine, but really can’t wait to read more of your story’s! Hope you’re doing alright and take care of yourself 🫶

— HEADCANONS RE || WESKER FATHER-IN-LAW X SON-IN-LAW READER

TW ┊dark smut, ftm reader, aggression, toxic relationship, age gap, v!sex, cheating, eat out, blowjob, 69, sexual recording, sensitive themes, dead dove.

WARNING : no negativity please. If this isn’t your sort of content, block me and move on with your day<3

— SFW AND NSFW

In Wesker's eyes, at first you were just another toy for his son, you were already the third boyfriend his son had in less than three months — so the scientist didn't even look at you, just greeting you out of politeness and isolating himself again in his office to continue his work."It won't last long, I bet." Albert said to himself, referring to yet another boyfriend of his son, but he didn't get involved in matters... After all, he was a man too busy for trivial things.

You obviously tried to be a polite boy and get along with your father-in-law, but all your attempts failed as the blonde didn't even look at you — and if he did, you couldn't speak because he simply wore those sunglasses 24 of the day. It was frustrating for you every time you received a rude and rude response from your own father-in-law, making you give up on getting closer to him.

But despite his attempts to avoid you out of pure disinterest, he couldn't deny that you were getting into his routine much more than he wanted to admit. His son always brought you to spend the weekends and have lunch at his mansion, so finally the older man's eyes noticed you.

You were a kind and sweet man, different from his son who was always the same as his personality — only a little worse considering his extreme elitist upbringing. But not you, you were simple and sweet, it even surprised him how stupidly innocent you could be sometimes.

And his also knew that it wouldn't take long for his son to start a fight with you because of his stupidity.

The older blonde started to have unhealthy thoughts about you, your presence was like a balm for him, but also like an inferno that threatened to burn everything and everyone around him.

He began to wonder what it would be like to squeeze your thighs, how your soft skin would feel in his big, calloused hands — how beautiful you would look moaning and begging him to go deeper into your beautiful body... How he would be better than his son being a companion to you.

He really tried to push those thoughts away and tried to approach you like a real father-in-law would, apologizing for his previous behavior and that he was just stressed about some company matters.

But the way your face and doe eyes lit up at simply being treated well by him made the heat in his core gradually rise — every fiber of his being was pulsing and burning like a fire... Only he knows how much he controlled himself to doesn't push you against the nearest wall and make you his right there.

Albert tried to suppress the feelings of lust that were slowly threatening to rot his mind, but every time he saw your smile, even those caused by his son, he wanted to do some crazy things and take you for himself. "Fuck, I'm too old to act like a dedicated man controlled only by his desires." Wesker thought as he rested his temple on his closed fist and watched you on the other side of the room, in his mansion, hugging his son and watching a movie. But he knew that moments of peace like that would end soon, especially with his son's toxic behavior — he had already predicted this, but he never thought it would take a considerably longer time compared to other times.

Even though it took a while, it happened, you fought with your boyfriend and practically the entire gated community heard the screams. Wesker was still trying not to interfere in your two lives because of the feeling of wanting to have you for himself — but after the fifth fight where you were slapped in the face by his son, he felt obliged to break up the heated argument and take you to a safe place away from there.

Before you said anything he just took off his sunglasses and for the first time looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. "No no, you don't need to say anything kid... I know my son was a horrible man and an asshole to you. I'm on the right side, just because he's my son doesn't mean I'm going to blind myself to the horrible things he did you hear." Albert said it loud and clear, then his cold, rough hands found your face and made you focus on his face.

"Listen to me, pretty boy, you deserve someone better than him." He spoke with a tone that made you feel goosebumps, the nickname "pretty boy" came out practically erotically from his thin lips and the look with the older man's dilated pupils didn't help much with your confused feelings.

With each fight that happened in your relationship, you felt closer and closer to your father-in-law. Even starting to frequent Wesker's mansion when your boyfriend wasn't there, purposely just to be alone with the older man.

Between smiles, conversations and not-so-unconscious looks, you quickly found yourself sitting on the older man's thighs while both of you were breathing faster — unable to hold back any longer, Wesker had given in to his desires and finally kissed you, his lips on yours, in a warm and desperate kiss — his hands going to your ass squeezing the soft flesh and quickly soft moans coming out of both of you, the erection in his pants wouldn't let him lie that he wanted more than just kissing his own son-in-law. "Come on lad... I'll show you how much you need someone older who really knows how to take care of you."

Wesker's cock was thick and pulsing enough to make your brain shut down with each thrust, moaning and drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as your legs trembled around his muscular torso — your pussy dripped onto his bare, skin-tight member. skin made you feel the thick, dirty tip of precum kissing your uterus and threatening to fill you at any moment. "Fuck--! open that pussy wider for me, good boy..." Wesker moaned as he grabbed your thighs and squeezed the soft flesh there, leaving marks all over it.

Having sex with your own father-in-law was dirty and wrong... But it was incredibly hot. Unlike your boyfriend, the older man really focused on your pleasure.

He smiled huskily as he saw you turn into a trembling mess barely able to suck his dick while you did a 69 in his office. "You have a charming and pretty pussy, boy," He moaned, licking and wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking hard as he felt your hand on his cock, stroking it gently. The light pressure on his dick was pleasant and arousing as it also fueled his desire to make you feel as good as he could. He kept alternating between his fingers inside you and his tongue on your clit, and every now and then, he'd let a finger slip into your ass, and a moan from your lips encouraged him to continue doing so. "Fuck, you're tight, so, so tight..." Wesker's moaned, his hands squeezing your thighs, wanting you to hold onto him, to let him know that you were enjoying it. "My son is an asshole for letting such a needy and bitchy boy like you run wild, I'm glad I got you for myself, right?"

The two of you fucked like two animals in heat, even with your boyfriend at home — every time you waited for him to sleep and ran to Wesker's office. "Do you want me to help you with this my angel?" The scientist laughed as he fingered your pussy with two thick fingers, rhythmically thrusting into your g-spot and making you roll your eyes and hold on to the wooden table that you were leaning against, making the tall man laugh.

"Shhhh, don't make any noise, be a good slut and keep those beautiful moans bottled up ok? You really are sensitive boy- holy shit, it's just my fingers and you're already squirming for me to touch that cute pussy of yours." He snapped his fingers against your pussy, a sting, but not enough to make you shudder too much as his attention was diverted to your clit, flicking it with his thumb, trying to tease you even more and make you beg for him. him again. "You want me to fuck you don't you? Then you better beg for it boy." Albert pronounced each syllable fiercely, unbuttoning his pants and once again exposing his thick, pulsing member — you could smell the musk and the heat radiating from his groin, making you drip even more and barely be able to think beyond begging him in a slurred manner to fuck you soon.

"My son should see what a whore his boyfriend is for me, you know?" He teased as he buried himself without warning into your wet heat, covering your mouth with his hand as his thrusts were animalistic but with a concern that his cock would hit all the right spots on your sensitive wall.

Fingers, tongue, dick, sex toys, everything you wanted he used for your pleasure, taking you to orgasms that you didn't even know could be so pleasurable. Besides his look conveyed more than a simple desire for you — he wanted more, a lovers' affair wouldn't satisfy him, he needed to steal you from his son.

And how to do this? Simple, record a short porn video and send it to him later — cruel? Sure, but your father-in-law was sick and obsessed with you enough to not even care about his own son.

"Look at the camera, come on my prince, be a good slut and fix your eyes on the lens." Wesker pulled your hair as he made you look at the recording instrument with your face messy and flushed with pleasure — your pussy squeezed and milked the older man's cock as he made sure to record you from every possible angle.

"Smile darling... Tell him who you belong to." He grunted in your ear, hearing you moan his name repeatedly as he increased his thrusts to the point of making your groin hurt and hot, mixing your juices and his cum that made your thighs even wetter. He held his head tightly to the camera, as a cruel smile spread across his own face. “It looks like you lost quite a boy, I never thought you were so stupid, son... But you can leave it, daddy will take good care of your... Ex-boyfriend." The blonde laughed as he came again inside your pussy, seeing you moan drunk of pleasure for him — Wesker loved you in a distorted way, but unlike his son, he really saw a future with you by his side. Like his boy, as it had to be.

[mrsparrasblog]

Take Me to Church

Summary: John MacTavish, the black sheep of his traditional chatolic family, hides his polyamorous relationship with his boyfriend Simon and you their pregnant plus-size girlfriend from his judgmental relatives. When you visit his family while being 9 months pregnant you need to face the reality of his cruel family.

Normaly I think his parents are the most supportive folks but this idea popped up in my head.

TW: Pregnancy, mention of labour, mention of homophobia, fat phobia and strong catholic beliefs, has a happy end

John MacTavish was always the black sheep of his family, and for most of his adult life, he was okay with it. Seeing his family only three times a year made him endure the hate he got from his brothers. In their humble opinion, he was wasting his life; a career in the military wasn’t sustainable. He would risk his life for what? For no wife to come home to and no bairn. If they had seen his single-room bachelor apartment in Glasgow, they would cringe even more. Moving to Glasgow was another thing they disapproved of. He could have lived on the farm like every other MacTavish, crowded with all his nephews. He really loved them, but coming back from every deployment to help on the farm left him with no freedom and several set-up dates with "proper" Scottish girls.

If it had been his grandma’s choice, he’d marry a thin, catholic Scottish girl. And despite the girls being absolutely beautiful, it just wasn’t what he wanted. John MacTavish only had four wants in his life, and his family could only respect one of them (the want for a good whiskey). Becoming a Military Captain wasn’t one of them, dating his Lieutenant (coming out as BI would be an early grave for his grandparents and dad), and his fourth want was you, the beautiful, soft girl who made him and his Lieutenant go crazy. His family would have approved of you being a girl, but you being an atheist, not from Scotland, a plus-sized girl (which he and Simon absolutely adored), and you being in a relationship with both of them at the same time, would be another matter. Sometimes he laughed thinking about what would scare his family more: him being bi, only dating soft, curvy women, being in a poly relationship, or dating two "foreigners." He decided the poly thing would be the final death blow for his family.

So he hid this side of himself for years, hurting himself and, more importantly in his eyes, hurting you and Simon. Both of you tried hard not to act hurt when you spent another Christmas without him because he needed to attend his family gatherings without his dark secret.

The thing about secrets is they can never be kept, especially if his secret was crying in his strong arms with the famous device with two lines in your hands. “Johnny, what am I gonna do?” you sobbed while he tried everything to ease your mind. He knew it was his, always knew. Simon couldn’t be the dad; he had decided as soon as he was 18 to go to the doctors and take the responsibility to never have children.

The first months of the pregnancy were beautiful despite all the throwing up. When you thought you had two guard dogs before the pregnancy, you were so wrong. You didn’t even know that people could get so protective. Simon was attached to your hip every second he wasn’t on deployment, shooting death glares at anyone who even dared to look at you. Johnny didn’t allow you to clean or cook. “Won't let ma pregnant girl cook. What kind of lad do you think I am?” Johnny huffed as you complained about being pregnant and not sick. Even the sex got better; you were living the life with your two perfect boyfriends.

To his surprise, Simon was happy about the news. A child wasn’t something he thought was in his cards, but with you and Johnny, it could be possible. Even if he had the fear that the baby would only accept Johnny as his dad, you immediately told him that he was an idiot—the child would see him as the dad he was. "Who cares about fucking biology?"

Until your last weeks of pregnancy, when it was finally time to drop the bomb on Johnny’s parents. You wanted grandparents and uncles for your baby so badly. In the end, you regretted your decision.

Scotland, Kingussie

You wore a cute sundress, one of the only things that still fitted you since the pregnancy. You looked radiant; pregnancy suited you. And Johnny’s hand in yours, waiting for his parents to open the door. Johnny told you only half the truth when he said his parents were happy to meet you. They were, they just didn’t know half of it. And you were long asleep when Johnny and Simon had a fight about him finally telling his parents about him and that he mattered too. This didn’t help you prepare for what would happen once you entered the cozy farm in Scotland.

The door opened, and an older woman hugged Johnny immediately. “We missed you, my sweet boy. Show me the lovely lass you brought home.” One glance at you was enough to make her gasp. “Dear God, you’re pregnant!” Her blue eyes scrutinized you. To her credit, she really tried to hide her disgust, not wanting to judge you. “Is it yours, son?”

“Mom, of course it’s mine.”

“Well, congratulations.”

She walked inside the house while you and Johnny removed your shoes. Both of you fell into an awkward silence. “Johnny, what the fuck was that?”

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. They’re a bit catholic, but they mean well, I promise.”

“Johnny…”

“Please, give them a small chance, and then we can leave whenever you want.”

You sat down at the enormous table. Fourteen pairs of blue eyes stared at you like you were a foreign alien invading their beloved home.

“So, you’re Johnny’s lass?” his father asked gruffly.

“Yes, Johnny and I have been dating for four years,” you smiled softly. Simon and Johnny were the best four years of your life.

“Four years, so I assume that bairn is yours, Johnny?”

“Of course it’s his,” you snapped, offended that he even asked. You would never cheat on Simon and Johnny. There wasn’t even a reason—the relationship and the sex were perfect.

“I didn’t talk to you, lass. I asked my son.”

“Dad, of course it’s mine.”

“So, you’re telling me that you compromised that poor girl?”

“Compromised?” you asked, confused.

“Not even English by her lack of vocabulary,” his grandfather chimed in.

“I told you, Johnny, you can’t just let your urges win. Look at you, knocking that poor woman up and not even asking for her hand in pòsadh,” his father gripped the table, trying to calm himself down.

“Do you know how much shame you bring to this family, Johnny? I would have given you your great-grandma’s ring, but no, you decided to take the MacTavish name even further into ruin. We accepted all your poor choices, lad, but now you’ve got a non-Scottish girl knocked up without any wedlock.”

“It’s not like the ring would have fit on her fat finger anyway,” his brother mocked, and that was Johnny’s final straw. He grabbed your hand, ready to leave.

“I won’t bother you with my shame anymore. Come, mo leannan.”

“Please, Johnny, stay. I promise Dad and Grandpa won’t say a word. We just never heard of you having a girlfriend, and now she’s pregnant. It’s a big shock.”

Johnny wanted to protest, but you really wanted your baby to have grandparents to love her. You whispered in Johnny’s ear that you needed to stay, at least try it for Sophia’s sake.

Another choice you regretted as soon as you saw haggis on your plate. “Johnny, what’s this?”

“I’m sorry, mo leannan. I told them you’re vegetarian,” he said apologetically.

“It’s good for the baby, lass. At least try it before you mock it,” she said, and you hated yourself for being a people-pleaser because the minute you tasted it, you ran to the toilet, throwing it up.

“That was a tad dramatic.”

“I get it, lass. When I was pregnant with my cute Johnny, I couldn’t hold anything in. Do you already have a name?” His mother really tried to make amends, giving you a bit of slack while his other family members couldn’t.

“Yes, we thought about Sophia.”

“That’s not a Scottish name,” his mother’s tone was full of disappointment.

“You cheated on John!” his grandpa started to scream at you.

“What?”

“The MacTavish family has never born a girl. Never.”

“Grandpa, you better shut your mouth.”

“How dare you talk this way to me in my own house!”

“Mo leannan, start the car already. We’re leaving.”

You went as fast as your swollen pregnant legs could carry you, trying to close your ears to the conversation.

“You won’t see my bairn. You disrespected the fucking love of my life. Who cares if she isn’t Scottish, or not Catholic, or fat? I fucking love her like this. She is the most intelligent, funny, beautiful woman on earth, and I’m going to have at least three babies with her, and you won’t see any of them. Or me. And by the way, I also fuck a man too.” He ignored the screams of his grandfather, how he was disowned, the pleading of his mother to rethink his choice. All he needed was to get back to you, the baby, and drive you to Simon, his perfect family.

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. I should have done this years ago.”

“I just want to go home, Johnny. I’ve had enough.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to be mad at him or thankful for protecting you and your baby like this. But before you could decide on that, your shoes were already soaked. “Johnny, the water broke.”

“Yeah, I’ll fix it at home.”

“What?”

"Well, I don’t have a screwdriver here, and I won’t ask my dad for one."

"Why do you need a screwdriver?"

"To fix the car. You said the water broke; you meant the leak, right? Simon was already on it, but I guess it’s opened again."

"No, Johnny, my fucking water broke."

He stared at you in horror before he scooped you up and started to run. "Where are you running, Johnny?"

"To the hospital."

"We have a bloody car."

"But it’s leaking."

"Johnny, I’m leaking, not the bloody car," you screamed in pain after one of your first contractions.

"Fucking hell, I can bring that baby. I helped a cow with labor; it’s the same, right?"

"Johnny, you’re going to drive me to a fucking hospital. I’m not some highland cow."

-----------------------------

After 16 hours of painful labor (MacTavish babies are huge), your sweet girl was finally born, and Johnny didn’t even faint, much to Simon’s surprise, who almost caused six car crashes on the way to you. And now you were lying in bed, barely awake, looking at your tiny bundle of joy in Simon’s burly arms. It was enough to make a grown man cry. Kyle, Johnny, and Simon were just amazed by the baby.

The door went wide open. "How is my girl?" John ran towards your bed, looking to see if you were injured, hurt, and alive, holding you tight in his arms. He didn’t even look once at Sophia; he was just too afraid about you. "Sorry, I was afraid something happened to you with these muppets." You always wished to experience a father’s love, and right now you realized you didn’t need to have Johnny’s dad or grandpa for this—you had Captain Price.

"It’s okay, Dad," and this was enough to make Price bawl his eyes out. He always wanted a daughter, but infertility was a cruel curse on him. He kissed your forehead. "Let me look at my granddaughter." He accepted this role without hesitation, when you saw your baby between her two loving fathers, her uncle Kyle, and her Grandpa Price, you knew she already had the family you were searching for.

A/N: I don't approve of anything his family said if this isn't clear, I was almost in the same situation (without pregnancy) meeting the strongly prejudiced grandma of my partner. So please don't come at me with hate, already have enough of it in my asks :)

[wttcsms]

angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k  synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes. 

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi. 

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked. 

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away. 

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now? 

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that?  I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” 

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1 pt. 3

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

[safination]

The Only Temptation

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. Heats! Ruts! Alastor and Ruts! dual POV, Handjob, dirty talking, phone handjob, TLDR: Alastor's rut is being drawn out by a doe who is definitely not you, but weirdly enough or not so weirdly enough, he only seems to craves you. AN: Hello! I haven't posted in a while, but pshhh we'll just ignore that. Since I'm turning the big 22, this fic will also be 2/2. This is just 1/2 (Truthfully, I just ran out of time and decided to cut this into 2 parts.) Also, will you look at that! My first smut! Handjobs should count as smut right? And here I thought my religious ass would never make one of these. Oh, well. It goes without saying but I'm going to say it anyway: MINORS DNI

There’s a doe in the Hazbin Hotel.

You bumped into her as you were making your way to Alastor’s radio tower. There would be more of these types of interactions if you actively lived in the hotel like you want, but Alastor refuses to allow you to stay for too long with the excuse of it being safer to hide you away at home while he stays here.

There are ears on the top of this doe’s head. It reminds you of Alastor. They’re a bit cute – more than, ‘a bit cute’ if you were being honest. Downright adorable if you were really being honest. Spots trails over her shoulders and continue into her clothes.

What an itty-bitty doe. So ready to be devoured! (Part of you wonders if Alastor would appreciate the taste of a doe’s flesh. A surprise gift, maybe?)

You’ve never seen a doe in Hell before, but she’s not really important to you right now. So, you throw her to the back of your mind and make your way to Alastor’s radio tower.

All of Alastor’s senses are heightened because of that damn doe. It’s quite a predicament as rut season nears, and the pheromones being released place him in quite the difficult spot.

It gets worse when his ears catch upon a slight knock and . . . and the scent of you.

Alastor can’t describe what prickles his nose, but it’s the scent of morning coffee shared through one mug. He takes a deeper whiff and it becomes the scent of soft music playing through the radio as you dance around the room.

It seems that doe has unlocked something in him. The scent of you has never tasted like that until now. It brings out a hunger for you that goes deeper than normal.

The smell intensifies when the door clicks open, and that hunger strikes even deeper. It travels through the air, settling itself in his stomach. Alastor pierces the tips of his claws into his skin before he could fully lose himself.

It becomes worse . . . better? . . . when you remove your coat, hanging it on the rack. The scent becomes so strong that he’s enchanted for more than a second. Actually, it’s so heavenly to his senses that blood pools between his legs and settles into his thighs.

Alastor inches closer to the desk, hiding the way his cock has pitched a tent from just the scent of you. He pretends to busy himself with the buttons on the panel, even when the broadcast ended five-minutes ago.

You swat his hand away, and sit on the table. There’s deliberate care in the way you prop yourself, careful not to hit any of the knobs.

A small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi . . .” Alastor lays his head on your thighs, shighing into their plumpness as he swipes his thumb on your skin. Everything about you sends high frequency pitches into his skin. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Well, my dearest,” you begin, massaging the base of his antlers, “the purpose of a surprise if for it to be unsuspecting.”

The witty response to your statement dies in his throat. A groan of relief replaces it as you continue to massage his antlers. That annoying itch lessens when you press on the base just a little firmer.

That fact that it feels good to have his antlers scratched can only mean one thing . . .

“You’re nearing your rut,” you say, plain and simple, as if his unnoticed erection already isn’t an indicator. “Hmmm, it seems I picked a good time to drop by.”

Alastor leans his cheek a little bit deeper into your thighs. “It’s still too early.”

“Does it have to do something with that little doe I spotted earlier?”

Alastor isn’t getting used to your scent.

Usually, strong scents should fade into the background after some time. Usually. Alastor is constantly and painfully aware of the scent of heaven on your skin.

Everything about you is driving him up the wall. So much so, the Alastor stays limp in your hold, afraid that shifting will cause his already sensitive erection to brush against you.

“What a silly thought,” he says, even as his cock throbs uncomfortably in his pants. Alastor’s never been this hard before. That heavenly scent means he’ll have to send you away soon if his rut is hitting a little early.

How has he never noticed how good you smell?

“There’s no reason you have to go through this alone.” You pull on the ends of his hair. “Maybe there’s a reason why it takes you a month to calm down. Wouldn’t getting your satisfaction speed things along?”

“That’s out of the question.”

“You won’t know if we don’t try,” you say, frowning a little. “We can at least try, dearest. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Alastor allows himself to dream about it. It would be nice to have you to himself for a month, if his erection is an indicator. Your very presence is already causing a wet patch of pre-cum to spread. He’s so painfully hard that he can feel the beat of blood going through his veins.

Alastor would take you, hiding you at home. It’s purposely far from the prying eyes of the bustling city. There he would spend the next month burying himself into you. The hunger that gnaws on his belly will be satiated with the taste of the combined fluids dripping down your cunt.

No, that wouldn’t do. That would just be a waste of perfectly good cum. It needs to stay inside you if he’s going to defy a Sinner’s biology. Alastor would need to take every drop, and make sure it’s not wasted. He would fill you up until a large bulge would—

What is he thinking about?

Giving in to his instincts would do you more harm than good. You weren’t a doe, and that means your body isn’t meant to handle his rut.

“It’s not safe for you to be at the hotel at the moment.” Alastor is playing a dangerous game – one where Heaven has set its hat into the ring.

There’s a reason why he’s hidden the house from prying eyes. It’s much safer . . . or at least that’s the reason he’s giving you.

A small frown. “Then we can hide away at home.”

“I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.” Alastor nuzzles into your thigh. “We have the same argument every season.”

“I see,” you say, and that’s a proper frown on your lips now. “I won’t be seeing you for some time then.”

“Now, now. Don’t frown, cher.” Alastor pushes your lips up into a bright smile. “You look absolutely ravishing in one of these.”

There’s a small smile that grows on your face.

You tilt his chin, and press a kiss on the edge of his smile. Alastor crosses his legs, digging his claws into them to try and regain any semblance of control.

“I think I would almost miss you, my dearest,” you tell him, showing off that cheeky, little smile. “It’s bound to get incredibly dull around here. It always does when you’re not around.”

Alastor barks out a laugh, pulling your face into his hold to stare into you. Just a little longer. That’s all he needs. “Flirting? That’s certainly a new tactic,” he says, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “I think I would miss you as well, cher.”

Alastor pulls off his bowtie in one swift motion, throwing it off somewhere irrelevant. It’s been hours, yet he’s still so painfully hard. It forced him to hide away in his room the moment you left. Changing into looser clothing helps, but every brush of his cock sends tingles up his spine.

His shadow crawls up the wall with a scowl. The thing zooms around, seemingly in a mood as foul as his. It disappears under the cracks of the door, and Alastor doesn’t have enough blood circulating through his brain to question where it went.

Maybe, the blood would be passing through his brain if it wasn’t pooling in his throbbing erection. It’s been throbbing all day long.

Damn that does.

Alastor should kill her; end the madness she’s bringing. If the hormones from her heat stop, then his rut won’t start for another few days, or maybe even a week if he’s lucky.

The delay of his rut means the delay of his departure. Alastor can keep you by his side for a moment longer. Just a little longer until the inevitable.

You can be by his side. You can stay with him. You can . . . you . . . you!

The scent of you invades his nose. It hits harder the more he inhales. But you shouldn’t be here. Alastor sent you away. He made sure you exited those hotel doors, and he kept his eyes on the horizon until he could no longer see you and then a little longer after that.

His shadow slithers back into the room, something in its hands. Alastor lifts his head from the pool of pillows and . . . and it’s your coat.

The scent of you lingers on it.

“Get that thing away from me,” he hisses even as his cock twitches against his underwear. “Go burn it in the fireplace.”

The shadow slithers closer, dropping the coat Alastor just demanded to be burnt. It’s never defied one of his orders before.

His shadow pushes it closer to his face, and all anger fizzles at his throat when the smell of you breaches his nose. It drives him crazy, but it brings some sort or soothing effect as well.

Did you forget it here?

Or did you leave this for him?

Alastor buries his face into it, even when he knows he should return the thing. Alastor isn’t a dense Sinner. He’s well aware of what will happen if he allows something like this to stay . . . but what if you really did leave it for him?

The cloth of his pajama chafes against his skin. It’s too warm, and the scent of your coat is a splash of gasoline in an already burning sea of flames.

The image of holding you plagues his mind. Despite the burning in his skin, Alastor wouldn’t care as long as it came from you. Burning would feel heavenly as long as it was you who held the other end of that matchstick.

The echo of your laughter bounces in his mind, and blood shoots straight down, fueling his erection even more. The cloth from his underwear brushes against it, and a tiny groan escapes him as it goes over the sensitive head.

Alastor’s had enough. It’s adding fuel to his already foul mood. He shreds his clothes off, tearing it with his claws. He lies in a pool of scrapped fabric, his dick springing forth.

The shadow scoots your coat just a little bit closer. Alastor inhales the scent, burying himself into it. It’s a fuel to an already burning flame, but it’s coming from you. So, how bad can it really be?

He shifts his legs, and the way his cock rubs against the silk sheets tears coaxes a moan from his throat. It’s debauchery. It’s sinful . . . but it feels too good. Wet patches of pre-cum stains his sheets.

Alastor trails his palms lower, running them through his stomach until he’s fisted his cock. He pumps his shaft through his fist, trying to find relief.

It’s not . . . It’s not working?

He searches his mind, trying to remember how your fingers would work him into his release.

How tight would you squeeze him?

Where would you start? Alastor should remember that much, considering it was your hand pumping his cock.

Right . . . The head.

Alastor rubs his sensitive head, swirling it around like you do, and fuck! It’s just a shitload of nothing.

His fingers are too rough. You know how to build him into cumming, but you’re not here right now. Haphazardly fisting his cock isn’t going to bring him anywhere.

The temptation to give up is there, but he’s been erect all day. Alastor needs to end this tonight.

Alastor massages the tip once more, but with more purpose, just like you do. A moan releases into the air. If he shuts off all senses, he can pretend that it’s your hand that’s—

His shadow holds up a ringing, landline phone.

Alastor looks at it, then at the hand still fisted around his cock, and the back at his shadow.

The shadow looks back at him.

Alastor squeezes himself, ignoring the shadow as he tries to build that same mood. “Throw it away.”

His shadow has a look on its face, and pushes the thing closer. Alastor’s about to destroy it himself when he realizes there’s only one Sinner who has the number to this landline – You.

Alastor grabs the receiver, ignoring the fact that he’s very naked, lying on a bed that’s stained with his pre-cum, and a very erect dick.

“Alastor!” The sound of your voice stuns him a little, even when he knew it would be you on the other end. “Alastor?” you call out. “Hello?”

It takes him more than a second to take the blood that’s throbbing his erection, and force it up his brain. “And what have I done to displease you, dearest,” he says, “that you would force me to use this blasted phone?”

“That’s what you say every single time you pick up the phone.” You chuckle a little. A small chuckle – that’s all it took to shoot the blood back down. “Yet, not once have you missed my call.”

“This is my punishment, not yours.”

“I’m calling to let you know I made it home with no problem,” you tell him. “And . . . I think I left my coat there.”

“Ah . . . yes.” Alastor swirls the head of his cock. Maybe hearing your voice would be the push he needed. “I’m looking at it right now.”

“Are you alright, dearest?” you say. “You don’t sound too good.”

“Just . . . a little tired.” His breath goes through the receiver, even as his claws dig through the pillow. It’s doing nothing for him – nothing at all. “There’s no need to concern that ridiculous head of yours.”

It’s silent at the other end of the receiver. Alastor can hear the gears turning in your head. You always were a bit too perceptive about him. “Did you run into your new little, doe friend?”

“That thing is not my friend,” Alastor hisses, still trying to pump his shaft.

“My apologies then,” you say, snickering. “I forget that you do not allow yourself the pleasure of friendship, but I’m starting to think that it’s not you who turns away from it.”

“Hilarious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch. Coincidentally, so does his dick. “Well, as lovely as this has been, I’m in the middle of something important. I’ll have one of the ink puppets drop off –”

“I think I left something important in my left pocket,” you say, and despite being miles apart, Alastor can hear your smile. “Could you check it for me, and make sure it’s still there?”

Alastor dips his fingers into your left pocket, finding what seems to be a small card. He flips it over, and this definitely is not a card. It’s a small, polaroid photo. It’s you in that picture. You’re wearing—

Actually, what you’re wearing doesn’t really matter. Alastor will take a look at it later. It’s probably something red. What catches his attention is the fact that your ass is pointed to the air. There are a myriad of bite marks and hickeys around your thighs, leading a path up to your glistening cunt.

“Do you like it?”

Alastor blinks at it for a second . . . and then, another second . . . and its laughter that echoes around his room despite how the picture rushes blood down his already throbbing cock. The need for relief grows stronger.

“Did you take this for me?” Alastor wheezes, eyes bulging in different directions. Tears fall from his eyes as he laughs. “How ridiculous of you, dearest! You’re propped up like a stretching cat.”

“That’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” you say, chuckling. “However, I am glad that you’re enjoying it, one way or another.”

Alastor shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, and glances at his painfully throbbing erection. “I’m in quite the predicament because of you.”

“Oh!” You sound a bit too delighted. “So, you’re—”

“As a rock.” Alastor pokes his dick, hoping it would do something.

“How amusing!” Your laughter rings into the receiver. Alastor revels in it, enjoying the sound. “You’re eerily responsive tonight. Shall I send you more?”

Alastor rolls his eyes at you. “Take responsibility for what you’ve caused.”

“Al, I already did my portion,” you say. “I can’t exactly do the next part for you, unless you drag yourself home.”

“And what do you expect me to do with this?”

Alastor swears he can hear the way your eyes roll at him. “I think you know what to do.”

“Don’t mock me.” Alastor flicks the head of his cock. “It’s not working. So, take responsibility for your actions.”

It’s silent for a little bit, but his ears pick up the way you lick your lips. “Why don’t you take a moment to get comfortable.”

Alastor takes a moment he doesn’t need. Talking to you always brings him comfort. “That’s been taken care of.”

“My naughty buck . . . I start with the tip,” you tell him. “I use a little bit of that pre-cum to lubricate you. Swirl it around before pumping it down.”

Alastor does as he’s told, massaging the sensitive tip as he lubricates himself. The sound of your breathing . . . the lingering scent from your coat . . . it coaxes a small moan from him. Alastor makes sure you can hear him through the receiver.

“I trail my fingers up the back, tracing that little line,” you tell him, and there’s definitely a smile on your face. “Can you do that for me, my sweet Al?”

Alastor gasps into the air, using the tips of his sharp claw to trace a path from the base to the head. It’s exactly how you do it. He can almost believe that it’s your hand that’s touching him.

“What’s next?” He breathes through the receiver, closing his eyes to revel in the feeling of everything. “What’s next, cher? Tell me what to do.”

“Make a ring with your finger, and wrap it around the base,” you tell him, voice a bit low. “Tighter, Alastor. Make it tighter than you think you need it to be.”

Alastor will never have the ability to deny you. So, there’s really nothing really else but to make a ring with his finger. The constant pressure feels so heavenly sinful. His hips buck up as he squeezes even tighter. Alastor takes his other hand, and pumps the length of his shaft in slow motions, making sure he feels every ounce of his building pleasure.

“Are you thinking about me right now?” you say. “Am I running around in that head of yours, pressing kisses before I take you into my mouth? Or am I on your hips, bouncing along to the beat of your drum?

“You never stopped.” Alastor thinks he moans your name, but the way he buries his face into your coat overloads his senses. The fire in his stomach burns faster, rising to the way you stroke his flames. “Cher . . . cher.”

“I’m right here, Alastor,” you say, and there’s a playful tint in the way you say his name. “Faster, dear. Lose yourself into me.”

Alastor jerks his hips, driving his cock into his hand faster and faster and faster.

The sound of your breathing pulls him along as he ruts into his hand, chasing sinfully sweet release. Alastor glances back at the photo of you, ass so high it’s practically worshiping him.

As he drives his hips up, Alastor notices something glistening around your folds.

A loud moan rips itself out of him. That’s his seed painting your cunt, slowly dripping out of you.

Finally, finally, his pleasure builds to its peak, and topples him over. Ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, pooling around his stomach. Alastor keeps pumping, dragging out all it’s worth as he spurts all over the bed, watching his seed drop to your coat.

Alastor doesn’t stop humping his fist, even as cum on your coat changes the smell on it. He keeps going until he’s still holding his still erect cock, driving it faster up his own sticky seed.

There’s a second where his mind clears for a fraction. Alastor takes a look around at the mess he’s making, and to the mess that he will make.

 No . . . no.

It’s all wrong.

Why is he cumming on his fist? This . . . this should be inside you.

If you happen to read this, I wanna thank all my friends in this fandom. The friendship I found in all of you makes me happier than I can ever express. I dedicate this handjob to : @nyx-umbrakinesis @redfoxwritesstuff @redvexillum @whatswrongwithblue @inuhalfdemon @crackrodent . I hope each and every one of you knows that you have all pushed me to become a better writer, and pushed me out of my own comfort zone. Each and every one of your works inspire me to become better and push myself to my limits. If it wasn’t for everyone at VoxTek, I would have dropped Alastor a long time ago. There’s a tweet I found that says we should be writing not for an audience but for ourselves and our five friends who are crazy enough to read what we write. I write for me and for you.