#someone please help this poor kid out

[linvaniin]

teru is trying his best

[phantom-0-writer]

second chances don’t come for free

cw/tw: child death and child abuse and related traumas

7652 words (!?) ao3

Everyone in the family had secrets, and everyone knew that everyone in the family had secrets. It was a promise that came with the crest they all wore on their chest. Some were more open than others, like the way that Richard always avoided tight ropes despite his impeccable balance, and how Father never enters the 4th room on the west wing of the 3rd floor.

Damian had secrets too. 

After a relatively calm night by Gotham’s standards they returned to a briefing for their next big mission. Damian was one of the last to return, busy settling a mugging attempt on his return. 

“Good, looks like everyone’s here.” Father announced, gathering the attention of the rest of the occupants of the room. 

“Looks like a full house.” Richard commented lightly looking around as everyone gathered around the computer. Todd leaned casually on the railway to the changing room away from the crowd but close enough to be included, Drake was clicking away at the keyboard as usual. Brown and Cain stuffing in their last cookie before butting the container away. Thomas stood idly by waiting for Father to explain what their next operation was. Barabra likely was listening from a separate location as usual. 

“We’ve received a tip from a trusted source that the League is up to suspicious activity.” Father began, as Drake pulled up a few schematics on the screen. 

“When are they not?” Brown scoffed, lightly jabbing Richard in the arm. He chuckled lightly. 

“Naturally,” Father continued, “It would be irresponsible for us to all go and leave Gotham unprotected so Spoiler, Orphan, and Signal will stay to cover the city while the rest of us are gone. I’ve informed Batwoman as well, and she’s available to assist you if the situation demands.” Father paused to give the rest an opening to speak, when no one did so, he continued. “We’ve discovered that they’ve found a rare washup of some form of solidified Lazarus Waters. We don’t have much information on the substance itself apart from what's essentially speculation. Regardless if the League found a way to solidify the Waters, there is no telling what they would find themselves in possession of, weapons, tech, humans at a level we’ve never seen.” Damian knew all too well what the League was capable of. After all, he had been the League. Father continued explaining the details of the plan and the positions each of them were meant to play. 

It would be the first time Damian returned to a League of Assassins base since he had first left them 7 years ago and he had met his Father at his own doorstep for the very first time at the age of 10. It had only been the lifetime's worth of rigorous training that kept Damian from curling into his gut at the sight of those eyes. 

The eyes that haunted Damian the last days he had stayed in the league when Mother had ordered him to pack anything he wished to take with him. The look of terror in the eyes that look just like the one that calls him Champ while he ruffles his hair and tells him to go sleep early since it was a school night. 

Damian found himself freshly showered and comfortably under his duvet, then a moment later he was pulling them off to go through the motions of his day. Next thing Damian knew he was in his Robin uniform in a jet that would be taking him to the sight of his biggest mistake. 

The League had always kept a close record of Damian’s activities since he had been taken out of his test tube. Every daily schedule, no matter how mundane, every mission report, no matter how simple, was expertly stored in the League’s database. 

That was with the exception of the final test. The League had taken extensive measures to scrub away any traces of the final test before Damian had gone to live with Father. 

When Father and Drake had meticulously gone through every file about Damian on his arrival to the manor, Damian was told his first kill had been at the age of 4, a politician in his house in the capital city not far from the League’s Nanda Parbat base. 

Though Damian had only understood what it meant to kill - to watch death - only 3 days before he had met his father. 

“Damian.” Richard called, Damian hadn’t noticed that he had been approached, “Are you sure you're clear for this mission.” He sounded concerned. 

“Yes.” Damian responded with a frown. He had his own mission, he could not afford to be benched. 

“You seem kind of out of it. I know you don’t have the best memories with the League and none of us are going to force you to go if you're not ready,” Richard was trying to seem approachable and understanding, and perhaps Damian should be more reciprocative of his efforts. But he ‘knew’? What exactly did Richard Grayson ‘know’ about the League? About what happened to Damian in the League? 

Damian bit his tongue, there was no point in lashing out before a mission only for it to impede needlessly on their cohesiveness “Would you prefer for me to bounce off the walls in excitement?” Damian allowed the snark to roll off his tongue, and raised a brow at the older boy. 

Grayson let himself laugh at that, “No, I suppose not.” And with that Damian was alone again. 

When Damian was 3, Mother had taken him to watch the older kids train. Damian had noticed someone else there, another boy around his age. They looked similar even, but not identical. Damian remembered the jealousy he felt when he started noticing the similarities the boy shared with Mother’s features, the audacity that he looked more like Damian’s mother than Damian himself. When he told Mother, she had found it humorous and praised Damian for looking more like his father insead.

While Damian sat on the bench with mother, their escorts behind them, the boy sat alone at a bench further away. “Damian, do you know who that boy is?” Mother had leaned in to ask him.

“No, Mother.” He answered honestly.

“That is Danyal al-Ghul, your twin brother by 76 seconds.”

“What is a brother, Mother?”

“Your opponent in all that you do, Damian, he is your enemy. You must always remember that.” Damian made his best efforts to remember that, because of course Mother was always right.

Damian and Danyal had been assigned rooms across the hall from each other but they never met outside of coincidental encounters. And whenever they had, someone had always been there to remind Damian that Danyal was not to be trusted, that he would get under Damian’s skin, find ways to exploit Damian, a cheat and a smear on the al-Ghul bloodline. One of his teachers at the time had told him Mother would’ve done well to leave that one in the tube he was born from. The people of the League would not dare lie to an heir of the Demon’s Head, so Damian believed them.

 One night, after a particularly tiring day of training, Damian found he couldn’t sleep and decided to sneak out onto the roof. Damian had not been expecting anyone to be there but he was surprised to see the boy there. He considered his options, assessing his opponent like he had been taught to do. The enemy, Danyal, seemed to act purposefully unaware of Damian’s presence there. There were no weapons stored on him, and his posture was incredibly lax and he simply stared at the stars in the night sky. 

With a sigh, Damian sat silently at his side of the building, and looked into the far expenses of the League's base and the mountains that surrounded it. Though Damian had intended to be alone, he found an unfamiliar sense of comfort from the un-accosting presence of the other, unlike the others of the League who always seemed to need to say something to him. But Damian knew, regardless, the boy was not to be trusted. 

The next night Damain found himself climbing out of his window again, and found Danyal already there. For the next three months, every night Damian would sneak out of his window onto the rooftop and find Danyal already there, and the both of them would sit there in a comfortable silence, back turned to the other. 

One day Damian had been sent out for a mission, nothing he wasn’t used to. Except the location was quite far so he had to leave early in the morning and would be returning much later in the day. He had managed to complete his mission much earlier than anticipated, and so with this newly earned time, Damian snuck off to explore instead of heading straight to the rendezvous point. Easily pickpocketing a handful of cash unnoticed from a preoccupied group of wealthy looking men, Damian pursued the options. 

Perhaps he could buy a toy, a train set the other kids were ogling at. Except that would be much too difficult to hide, and needless to say Mother would not approve of such distractions. Damian overheard some others talking about the deliciousness of the sweets in one store, and he made up his mind. He bought 4 different types, not sure which would be the best, handing over his money to the clerk and heading out of the store. 

Damian found himself anticipating the rooftop of his room, and wondering how Danyal would react to Damian’s new found treasure. Slipping the chocolates out of their hiding spot, Damian snuck all 4 bars onto his usual spot on the roof. Letting the wrapper crinkle loudly as he purposely fiddled with it unnecessarily, Damian successfully earned a curious glance from his roofmate. Damian took the first bite of the bar labeled ‘Dark Chocolate’ and let himself enjoy the bitter sweetness of it, as Danyal looked at the candy bars spread haphazardly across the rooftop. 

Not liking that he was beginning to lose Danyal’s attention, and not receiving the eager response he was expecting, Damian found himself sticking a piece of chocolate towards the other boy, offering it to him. Danyal hesitantly took it, eyed it cautiously. Some of the chocolate had already melted on Damian’s fingers. “What is this?” Danyal asked him. 

“It’s chocolate.” Damian explained to the other six-year old, not that he had really known what chocolate was either. 

“Chocolate.” Danyal repeated, before carefully nibbling on the side of it. His eyes went wide in surprise at the sweetness, and he looked up at Damian in disbelief. “Woah.” He breathed, taking a much bigger bite. 

Damian, having been the one to discover this, smiled pridefully at the other boy, “There's different ones too.” He proclaimed. 

“Really?” Danyal asked wide-eyed crawling closer to Damian who turned around to face him. 

At the end of that night, they were short 4 candy bars as they tried to keep their whispers hushed and the melted chocolate on their fingers left stains on the floor of the roof. Damian wondered how Danyal was supposed to be the villainous enemy everyone told him he was, but Damian was not so easy to trust, after all he was an assassin of the League, the heir to the Demon’s Head. 

Every night they would meet on the rooftops, exchanging souvenirs, sharing snacks, telling each other stories of the stars and mountain demons. After a while Damian had forgotten what he had been warned of for his whole life, and would look forward to meeting with Danyal every night. Maybe Danyal wasn’t his brother, like Mother had said. 

Perhaps Mother was mistaken.  

One night, Danyal didn’t show. Damian waited for him for an hour, but the other’s side of the roof remained unattended. Finally, having had enough, Damian skillfully snuck over to the other side of the roof and peeked through his neighbor’s window to see if he had fallen asleep, but there was no sign of Danyal in his room, either.

Feelings Damian didn’t understand swirled in his gut, the ones he got when the mission unexpectedly goes off script, or the sharp end of a weapon comes closer than he would’ve liked. Hurriedly, he slipped down, letting himself stay hidden in the shadows, as he searched for the boy that wasn’t his brother. The kitchen, the hall, the training room, the weapons room, the barracks, the field, the river in the back, Danyal was nowhere. 

Tired, and out of breath, Damian tried to formulate a plan. Where could Danyal have gone?

“Young Master Damian.” At the voice Damian instinctively reached for his sword only to find it not there. Had he forgotten to bring it with him? Damian assessed who had caught him, and easily recognized by the uniform that it was one of the servants. 

“What are you doing here?” Damian demanded, frustration at his futile efforts at finding his… -at finding Danyal.  

“I am cleaning the walkways, as we are to do every 10 days, Young Master. It is more convenient to do it at night, since there are less people around.” The servant explained, bowing his head. They seemed scared of what Damian may do to them. But when Damian did not respond, the servant hesitated before speaking again, “If I may ask, Young Master, what are you doing here at this late hour?” 

Damian turned to the servant again, if they had been out cleaning as they said for the previous hours past curfew then perhaps they had seen or heard where Danyal had gone. “Do you know of Danyal al-Ghul?” Damian made sure his tone was void of emotions, it would not do either of them well for it to spread that Damian had found himself fond of Danyal. 

The servant’s face paled slightly at the name, there was a small stutter before they finally spoke, “Young Master Danyal should be in his room at this hour.” The servant began fiddling, with the handle of the broomstick.

Why was he lying? “Where is he?” Damian kept his voice even, demanding respect. 

“I- I do not know where the Young Master is.” The servant pleaded, but Damian didn’t believe him. 

Anger growing at the situation, “Tell me.” He demanded. 

“The Demon’s Head, and The Lady Talia were to speak with him.” The servant spluttered out, caving under the pressure. 

Why would Mother and Grandfather seek out Danyal at this hour of the night? The feeling from before only strengthened as Damian rushed to find him.

“Damian.” Mother asked surprised, catching him easily at the door, “What are you doing here?” Damain tried to get a look inside the room, but Mother had positioned her body to block his view. 

“Mother, shouldn’t you be asleep by now.” Damian asked, trying to find the casualness in his voice despite feeling like every vein in his body was being controlled to squeeze his chest. 

Mother looked down at him in amusement, “I should say that to you.” Damian tried to force his way through the door, but he was no match for Mother, “Why are you here Damian?” She repeated. 

“I would like to speak with Grandfather.” He tried, lies slipping easily out of his mouth. 

“I’m sure it can wait till the morning, your Grandfather is tired from a hard day's work.” When Mother pushed her hair behind her shoulder, Damian wondered why there were splotches of fresh blood on her hand. 

Damian stood there in defiance, and Mother seemed to consider him for a while. “Perhaps since you're merely a child you wouldn’t understand.” Mother thought aloud. 

“I am seven, Mother, nearly eight. I am hardly a child, and have far surpassed the many of the teachers you’ve assigned me. I can understand.” Damian demanded. He needed to find Danyal. 

Mother straightened, and with a nod, moved from the entrance allowing Damian to enter. There on the floor was a trail of blood, that led to one of the darker corners of the room, and Damian couldn’t tell what the heap on the floor was. 

“Damian, you should be in your room.” Grandfather chided, sitting in his chair by the fireplace. The darkness of the room finally became accustomed to Damian, as he began making out the details of the room. Grandfather didn’t have his cane, instead it was left closer to the heap in the corner. The heap had its hair cut messily just like Danyal’s always was, and its hands were smaller than an adults, as it tried to bundle itself together. The heap moved slightly, it’s head turning to look at Damian. Damian drew in his breath, at the sight of Danyal’s fluttering consciousness on the floor. 

Mother was right, Damian didn’t understand. 

Grandfather followed his gaze, and nodded understandingly, placing a lit pipe between his lips. “Danyal is simply being punished.” Grandfather explained. Damian couldn't find the word to ask what for, but Grandfather explained anyway. “He seems to think he is your equal, in the way he speaks and acts. As if he is one of the respectable heirs of the Demon’s Head.” Damian didn’t understand what that meant either. If Danyal was meant to be his brother, would he not have equal claim as heir as Damian did. 

“He is my equal. Mother said so herself.” Damian stated, not sure the source of his deep rage at his Grandfather and Mother at that moment. 

Grandfather turned a questioning look at Mother. Mother turned to Damian. “What are you talking about, my son?” 

“You said that Danyal was my brother.” Damian said, it was true that Mother had said this, regardless of whether Danyal should be considered Damian’s brother, “A brother is an opponent, someone waiting to strike me down at any moment. My enemy in all that I do.” Damian recited Mother’s own words, though he could not put his faith in them. Danyal had always listened to Damian, understood Damian, laughed at his jokes and added with his own, always the first one to comfort Damain. They weren’t brothers. “If he is to be my enemy, should he not be on the same grounds as I, as a true equal in skill?” 

Grandfather considered what he said, and shared another look with Mother. “I suppose I see the reason in your words.” Grandfather turned to him again, “Why have you come Damian?” 

“I simply was taking a late night walk since I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I would perhaps feel better if I came to visit you. I did not expect to see Mother here.” Damian was surprised how easily it was to lie to the only people he had trusted for the previous year of his life.

Grandfather let his hand rest on Damian’s shoulder “Take him back and dress his wounds.” He ordered Damian, “And do not trust his words, he simply wishes to get under your skin. Manipulate you.” The doors to the room shut behind them as Damian carried the body of his battered enemy back to his room, and patched up his wounds. 

Danyal was sitting on Damian’s bed, fluttering on the line of consciousness. “What you said before,” his voice was barely above a whisper and he spoke slowly as his words meshed together. Damian listened raptly, “to Grandfather, do you-” Danyal seemed to be having a hard time forming the question, but Damian understood. 

“It was the truth.” Damain said easily, Danyal's face fell at the admission, but Damian was quick to explain, “It was true that Mother told me what ‘brother’ meant, and that was the true meaning of brother. But I do not think of you as my brother.” Danyal examined him for a moment, trying to determine if he was being honest. 

“I trust you.” Danyal said with more conviction than Damian thought he could possess in that moment. He trusted Damian’s words and actions when not even Mother or Grandfather did. 

Finishing with the last bandaid, Damian looked at Danyal. “I trust you, too.” Trust seemed to light a word for Danyal, but Damian was not sure what word he should have used instead. 

That was because Damian did not know what love was, and because Damian al-Ghul loved his brother.

“Mother you called for me?” Damian sat in the chair opposite of Mother’s study. 

“Damain, you’re here.” She greeted, not looking up from her screens. Damain waited for her to finish what she was working on, arms crossed impatiently. “You do remember who your father is?” Mother started, turning the screen with two of Father’s well-known persona on display. One of billionaire Bruce Wayne greeting guests at a function, and the other of the Batman perched near the head of a gargoyle. 

“Of course, I remember, Mother.” Damian sighed in resignation. “Bruce Wayne and his alter ego, Batman.” He recited. 

“Good. You are a decade old now, and there is not much the League has left to teach you. So, in one week's time you will be going to stay with your Father.” Mother said bluntly. 

Damian’s brows creased together, “For how long?” 

Mother looked at him with authority as the next in line for the Demon’s Head, “For the foreseeable future.” 

“What!” Damian stood in indignation, “Mother that's unreasonable, how could you make me-” 

“It is an order Damain.” Mother said with finality. 

Damian frowned, “And what of Danyal then? He is Father’s child as well, I doubt he would sit by knowing he has another child here.”

“An intelligent conclusion.” Mother praised, “That is why you and Danyal will have a final test, the victor will be the one who is sent to your Father.” Damian’s eyes lit up at the concept, Danyal never talked about how he trained or what skills he best utilized, other than once slipping that he prefers to use katanas too, Damian did not know much of Danyal skills. This was finally Damian’s chance to see how capable of a fighter Danyal is. Despite whoever won, Damian was sure, even without knowing his father yet, that he would come back to retrieve the other.

“When will the spar be a mother?” Damian asked. 

“In 4 days, you will be expected in the main courtyard by noon.” Mother said dismissively. 

The day came both faster and slower than Damian would’ve liked. Wearing his usual gear, and his swords by his side he headed towards the field mother had instructed him to be at. Damian had waited in anticipation for this day, making sure all his swords were properly cleaned and sharpened. Of course they always were, but he had taken extra care that they would be in their best condition. His attire had been carefully selected by himself, a measure he usually wouldn’t take. 

Danyal and Damian stood facing each other, waiting for the signal to begin. Mother and Grandfather watched them closely from their spots in the audience, as the two exchanged blows, swords slidinging across each other, dodges and blocks, evasive flips, feint attacks, Danyal punched him in the gut once when Damian hadn’t been prepared. Damian let the battle engulf his senses, body moving in flow with his weapon, switching seamlessly between offense and defense until Damian found the perfect opening for an attack and he took it, knowing he would be named victorious. 

Damian’s katana sunk into Danyal’s chest, a gasp of pain escaping the other boy, as he looked down at the point of impact. Confusion filtered across his face for only a moment, and before Damian could question it, Danyal’s expression slowly morphed into fear as Mother and Grandfather approached them. 

“Damian, congratulations are in order.” His Mother praised him, stepping in between him and Danyal. “I knew from the beginning you would come out victorious.” 

“Thank you, Mother.” Damian tried to look at Danyal. “What now?” 

“We will be taking your brother to the Lazarus Pits, and let Fate decree any value to his life.” Mother explained, turning to Danyal and pulling Damian’s sword out of his chest, Danyal yelped in pain. 

Damian wondered if Danyal had been hurt during their fight. 

Damian bent down to load Danyal onto his back and carry him to the mystic waters and let him heal so he could join him at Father’s later. Perhaps Father would not be as keen as Mother on fostering their brotherhood, and they could train and fight together like they always talked about. 

“Damian.” Danyal croaked out lowly, if his face wasn’t already positioned near Damian’s ear he likely wouldn’t have heard. 

“Shh.” Damian chided, “Mother will notice.” 

“Damian.” Danyal called again, “Promise, you won’t forget about me.” 

Checking to see that Mother was still occupied in a conversation with one of the servants, “Don’t worry, I'm going to take you with me. Or I’ll come back to get you.” 

 “Promise.” Danyal asked again. 

Damian sighed, Danyal could be so stubborn sometimes, even with strange requests “Fine, I promise.” he rolled his eyes. Danyal didn’t say anything after that, instead resting his head on Damian’s shoulder. 

“Place him in the waters, Damian.” Mother instructed. 

Danyal’s body floated in the waters lifelessly for a bit, and Damian wondered why nothing was happening. And then suddenly, as if it were the mouth of some vicious beast, a gaping vortex circled around Danyal swallowing his body whole. Just as suddenly as it had erupted, the vortex disappeared and the waters returned to a deathly still seconds later. Everyone surrounding the waters watched in anticipation, but when nothing happened and enough time had passed, everyone headed back to their tasks. 

Mother stayed for a moment longer, “It seems even Fate, too, was eager to be rid of you.” she muttered, before heading off. 

Damian was the only one left there, waiting for Danyal to walk out and tease Damian for getting worried that it was taking so long. But the sun was beginning to set, and the waters had not moved at all, and there was no sign of Danyal. 

“Young Master, Lady Talia says that you should return to your chambers.” A servant stood by the gates holding a plate of food for him. Or was it for Danyal? There was only one serving.  

Damian turned to the servant, and he asked in a voice shakier than he had been expecting of himself, “Why hasn’t Danyal come out yet?” 

The servant seemed taken aback by the question, before their face morphed into something sadder that Damian didn’t understand. “Young Master Danyal will not be returning to us.” They explained softly. 

“Why not?” Damian demanded, confused and angry. His eyes were beginning to burn. 

The servant hesitated before answering him, “Because Young Master Danyal is dead.” 

“What difference should that make, people die all the time?” 

“It is as easy for the dead to return as your grandfather may make it seem, Young Master.” The servant spoke again, their voice gentle and tone careful. “Usually when people die they are gone for good, and they don’t get to come back. Not even with the Lazarus Waters. Second chances do not come for free, after all.” 

Damian let the words sink in. Danyal- Danyal wasn’t coming back? 

It was dark out now, almost the time the two of them usually met on the rooftop. Danyal would be waiting for him there, like he was every night. 

“You're lying.” He accused the servant, as he ran to his room, food left forgotten as Damian quickly made his way onto the familiar rooftops. 

Damian waited there, the servant’s words echoing in his ears at every second Danyal didn’t show up. An hour passed, and then two. And Damian considered for the first time that the servant had been telling him the truth. 

For the first time since he made his first visit to the roof of his room, Damian al-Ghul sat unaccompanied. 

After six years of carrying out various missions as an assassin, Damian al-Ghul cried when he learned what death meant. 

For the first time in his life, Damian al-Ghul cried when he realized he was alone.  

“We’re here.” Red Robin announced, as the plane landed silently about 15 miles away from base like they had planned the night before. 

“Oracle, testing comms and visuals,” Nightwing spoke into his earpiece. 

“All good on my end.” Her voice echoed in all of their ears. 

“Okay, just like we discussed, Robin and Red Hood will head to the surveillance room and get a location for where the experimentation is taking place. Nightwing and I will be on standby until the information is provided, Red Robin collects samples and information in the time that we have.” Father went over the plan again. 

Robin stealthy led the two of them through the LoA’s familiar layout, and the mission went smoothly. Within the next two hours they had the location of the experimentation site. It was on base, but a further location, so Nightwing and Batman headed there, ready to collect whatever information they could. Downloading the files for the surveillance and sending the access over to Oracle, their job should be done, and they were set to wait at the rendezvous point until further orders, or back up was requested. 

“Where are you going, Brat? We’re supposed to head that way.” Red Hood chastised as Damian took them off course. 

“Then go that way, if you wanna be such a goody-goody.” Damian shot back easily. Knowing the route to his destination easily. Damian kept to the least used route. 

“What’s with you, today? Pissy about not getting to see your Mommy?” Red Hood snarked, still following behind him. 

Damian wasn’t going to justify that with a response. The green of the Lazarus Waters came into view. A shiver went up his spine but he ignored it.

“Robin. What the hell are we doing here?” Red Hood demanded, eyeing the familiar green with contempt. Damian bent down to pick a handful of stay dandelions from the corner of the unused ally, and easily jumped over the gates surrounding the water. “Damian.” Jason hissed, “What are you doing?” 

“Relax.” Damian sighed, bending down near the waters, “I just came to give my greetings to… someone.” To his brother. Danyal was is his brother. Despite the mask hiding his face, Damian could see Jason’s posture soften. 

“Make it quick.” Jason huffed, letting Damian have some pseudo-privacy by turning his back to him. Damian set the flowers he had picked near the edge of the water, only noticing that the temperature had dropped when the wind blew a slight chill at the exposed skin of his face. It wasn’t temperatures Damian couldn’t handle, Gotham was often dreary and chilly even in her summers. But they weren’t in Gotham. They were in the Middle East, where they would consider themselves unlucky when the winters got this cold. 

“Hood, do you-” Damian was cut off by the loud acidic bubbling of the previously calm green waters. 

“What the-” Red Hood balked, turning around alarmed. 

Damian backed away in alarm, the edge of the waters expanding to swallowing the flowers he had laid down. The two brothers could do nothing but watch in suspense as the waters started swirling into a vortex garnering attention they had been trying to avoid. Just as suddenly as it had started the waters returned to their previously calm state, only for the surface to be broken by what looked like a young child, trying desperately to keep himself afloat and get to land. 

Damian and Red Hood were too busy holding off the assault from the small force the assassins had managed to form together to help the child. The second either of them turned their back to the assaulters, the assassins would take the opening to finish them. By the time they had dealt with their attackers the boy had already brought himself to shore, hacking up water. 

Familiar choppy black hair, and blue eyes Damian could never forget. “Danyal.” Damian found himself gasping, body frozen not from the cold. 

“Don’t mean to ruin your meet cute, but look like they brought their friends.” Red Hood warned as more assassins surrounded them. 

“We need to leave. Now.” Damian told him decisively. 

“Wow I never would’ve guessed.” Red Hood snarked back. 

“Call for an extraction.” Damian huffed annoyed, blocking an attack from the left. There weren’t many well trained members currently aware of them, but they knew better than to wait for backup to show up. 

“Red Robin, what’s your eta to the jet? Team 1 needs an emergency extraction.” Oracle spoke through the main line of comms. 

“I can be there in 10 minutes.” Red Robin responded easily, “What’s the situation?”

“We’ve been made.” Red Hood reported back disarming his attacker and knocking them out. 

“Will likely need medical attention.” Damian added, looking back at Danyal, who only now seemed to be registering his surroundings. 

“What happened?” Nightwing asked, concerned at Damian’s statement. 

“Not for us, for our new little stowaway.” Red Hood explained finishing off the last of the assassin, before turning around to face Danyal.

“Explain.” Batman demanded

“Perhaps now is not the best time or place for that, Father.” Damian snapped back. 

Danyal stood scarily still from the bay of the Lazarus Waters, wet and dripping, and despite the chilly temperature and his wet clothes he didn’t seem cold. If Jason had not tried to approach Danyal as well, Damian would’ve thought he was simply a figment of his imagination. 

“Hey, kid.” Red Hood put his arms out to show he meant no threat. “Do you know how you got here?” He tried to make his voice soft and approachable but the voice modulator of his helmet was not doing him any favors.  

Danyal didn’t respond, eyeing the both of them carefully. They let him, not making any movements that may scare him. The world seems to go still around Damian. Go colder. 

“I’m in the jet, heading your way.” Red Robin reported over the comms.

“We’re coming to find you too.” Nightwing added, Father presumably with him. 

Neither Jason or Damian made any moves. 

“Team 1, do you copy?” Oracle asked when neither of them sent a signal for receiving the message. 

Damian wondered what he should do? How was he supposed to approach Danyal, and begin to explain what was happening? Damian wasn’t even sure what was happening. 

“Team 1?” Father repeated. 

Do something, Damian.

“Copy.” Red Hood clicked into the comms and everything rushed into motion. 

At Red Hood’s response and the rapid movements of the wind at the approaching jet approaching overhead, Danyal dashed away alarmed. 

“Wait-” Damian called, running after him. But Danyal only seemed more distressed at being chased. He ran through small crevices Damian was too large to fit through, trying to deter him. But Damian followed regardless. Finally catching up to him where he knew that alleyway to come to an end, Damian caught sight of him, reaching out to grab his arm. Only for it to fall through as if nothing was there. 

As if Danyal wasn’t really there. 

After the failed attempt at contact from Damian, Danyal was only able to get so far before he seemed to trip, his foot catching on something that Damian couldn’t see. 

Why had Damian’s hand just gone through him like that?

Damian began to question whether Danyal truly was in front of him or if it was just some sort of illusion. Damian was quickly reassured of the validity of his vision when a sharp rock Danyal launched let blood drip on his skin. The hiss of pain was real. And so was Danyal.

Damian didn’t stop his domino from falling off his face, from the rock’s impact. Danyal stared at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?” Damian tried to laugh, but it sounded pathetic. 

Danyal analyzed Damian’s features, confusion washing over him. It made sense, the Damian Danyal had known was a 10 years old assassin, not a 17 year old Robin. Danyal was smart, smarter than Damian had been. Damian waited for him to figure it out.

But the world did not wait. Red Hood, Nightwing, and Batman dropped in from various rooftops, as the jet hovered loudly above them. Spooked by the sudden appearances, Danyal quickly started backing away. 

“Excretion ready. Preparing Medbay.” Red Robin reported. 

“I was wondering when the news would reach you, Beloved.” Another familiar voice grabbed their attention. Damian looked to the sound to see Mother with at least 10 of her personal guards staring them down. Although Damian couldn’t see the others, he knew they had been surrounded. 

“Talia.” Father hissed, a cold anger in his voice. 

Damian's eyes shot back to Danyal who looked like he was trying to find a way to make an escape, exhaustion seeping through him. Deciding to take his chance, Damian approached him while Mother was occupied with Father. 

“Who are you?” Danyal asked him, hesitantly, trying to keep the distance between him and Damian. 

“I promised I would come back for you, didn’t I?” Damian said in lieu of an answer.

Danyal’s eyes widened in recognition but before he had the chance to respond, an arrow was launched landing between them. Looking at the source, it was Mother. At the signal attack, all the other guards swarmed in from their positions and started attacking. Damian, blocking a sword, aimed to slash his side, before another sword came for his shoulder. 

Occupied with his two attackers, Damian didn’t notice Danyal trying to escape by climbing the side of the brick building. Fortunately, Mother still hadn’t noticed him yet thanks to their surroundings, and Danyal’s insistence to stay in the shadows. Danyal’s progression was decelerating, the weight of his still wet clothes and exhaustion slowing him down. 

Damian tried to keep an eye on him so he could follow after, once he dealt with his attackers. Disarming both of them and knocking them unconscious, Damian was able to turn around just in time to notice Danyal on the brink of unconsciousness, and losing his grip on the stones he was using to climb. Damian moved quickly, just in time to catch Danyal as he fell and his eyes rolled back. With Danyal in his arms, Damian only registered the on coming projectile without enough time to dodge or block. Damian braced himself for the hit, using his body to shield Danyal as much as he could. 

Only for a familiar black cape to flutter in front of him, blocking the attack before it hit either of them. “Go,” Father ordered, tipping his head towards the jet, “We’ll follow.” 

-

“So basically, correct me if I’m wrong,” Steph started incredulously, “Damian had a twin brother that died, they dunked him in the pit waters but then he didn’t come back. So, they were like ‘welp, lets tell no one about this, ever’. Except the water ends up literally throwing him out when Damian goes back and does this huge water show grand entrance thing. And now we have another 10 year old Wayne child.” Steph summarized arms moving wildly. If there wasn’t a kid that looked a lot like Damian lying unconscious in the bed two feet away from her, and the body cam footage from both Damian and Jason, Steph would’ve thought they were pranking her. Though, she hadn’t entrily ruled that out yet either. 

Tim nodded in conformation, leaning back causally on his chair.

“You were gone for 36 hours.” Cass added exasperatedly. 

Damian still hadn’t said anything other than explain who exactly Danyal was. They were twins, apparently, and they had been forced into a battle to the death a few days before Damian had been brought to the manor. He hadn’t told them why, but Steph suspected it was for some stupid successor business. Some of the other’s had tried to get more information out of Damian, demanding answers for why he never said anything before, never told any of them, why there weren’t any files of Danyal in the League’s databases. But Damian hadn’t answered any of them, so they had been forced to give it a rest- for now. Looking back, Steph could see the signs that Damian was dealing with grief when he had first come to the manor, but no one had been looking for that, and it had gotten swept under ‘weird assassin cult child’ behavior. 

It had been about an hour and a half since the jet had landed in the cave, and Steph, as a certified medical practitioner, had been called in for an emergency. She had thought it was strange that Oracle hadn’t specified who, and now Steph understood why. 

Danyal didn’t seem injured, other than a lower than average body temperature and a slightly slower heart rate, which was likely due to the body temperature, he seemed in relatively normal health. That was if he hadn’t been a 10 year old who had been marinating in Lazarus Water for seven years. Most of the bats had experience with Lazarus Water, and it had never been pleasant. But they hadn’t been in the prime years of their physical and mental development, and at most had been in the pits for an hour. 

Steph, Cass, Tim and Damian were in the medical room with Danyal. Jason had gone to his apartment, and said he would be back later, and to let him know if anything happened. Bruce had changed and gone straight up stairs, not taking the news of having a second kid who Talia had hidden from him and a second kid who had died very well. Dick had stayed for a while but he had an emergency work call and had to leave. Duke was still patrolling, since it was earlier in the day, but was being kept up to date on all news thanks to Oracle.  

Danyal was due to wake up any moment, and none of them knew how to feel about it. Not liking the morbid atmosphere of the whole manor, Steph decided to change topics. “Did Cassie tell you about what Conner and Bart did last week?”

Tim turned to face her happy for the distraction, Cass humored her with an intrigued look. “What?”

“Okay so basically- it was so cringe-” Steph let herself laugh “They were at the mall right. The one near Mount Justice, y’know-”

“-yeah it’s the same one they go to all the time.” Tim interjected, rolling his eyes. 

“Right, so-” The door opened, as Alfred walked in, cutting off her story but not unwelcome. 

“You’ve all been in here for quite some time, so I brought you some snacks. Sandwiches, fresh cookies, and water, juice and milk to drink. All your favorites, do indulge.” The old butler explained, rolling the cart through the door. 

“Thanks, Alfie.” Tim went to grab a glass of water, and a sandwich. 

“And anything for our newest addition?” Alfred questioned. 

“He’s not awake yet.” Damian said quietly, sipping at a glass of warm milk. Like a weirdo. 

“Is that so?” Alfred said with a thoughtful drawl to his voice, as he walked closer to the kid. “Hm…” He stroked his chin animatedly, slowly bringing himself closer to examine the boy’s face, but still keeping a comfortable distance. Steph was about to question what he was doing, only to see the boy’s eyes shoot open, and stare back at Alfred like a deer caught in headlights. Alfred straightened, as Danyal seemed to realize that he had been discovered. 

“What? How long was he faking being asleep?” Tim asked, baffled. 

“56 minutes.” Cass answered, easily. 

“Wait- you knew this whole time?” Steph asked betrayed, only for Cass to smile back cheekily. 

Damian didn’t say anything as Danyal sat up in his bed slowly, examining every one in the room. Steph tried to make herself seem non threatening but stayed ready in case the kid lashed out, not knowing how he would react. If it was anything like how Damian had been during his early days, it would pay to be ready. 

After a long moment of no one saying anything, Tim decided to prompt, “So, how’re you feeling, kid?” 

Danyal didn’t respond right away, instead watching Tim, Steph and Cass from his spot on the bed. Steph was beginning to wonder if this was another case, like Cass, where the kid had never been taught how to speak. Danyal opened his mouth hesitantly, looking over at Steph hesitantly, then Damian before answering. 

“Cringe.” There was a flat blunt honestness to his tone that added to the sudden comedy of the situation. Damian choked on his milk, and the room burst into laughter at the unexpected response. Danyal looked a little embarrassed at the reaction, but there was still a small smile on his face. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad afterall. 

“Do you want some?” Damian asked, breaking a cookie in half and offering Danyal a piece. 

The younger boy took it, curiously, “What is it?” 

Damian took a bite, chewing it before responding, “A cookie.”

“Cookie.” Danyal repeated thoughtfully, before taking a little nibble of it. His eyes widened at the taste, “Woah.” 

“There’s plenty more of those, Young Master Danyal, I’m glad to see you enjoy them.” Alfred smiled happily at the reaction. 

“Really?” He asked hopefully. Steph tried to remember if Damian had been this cute when he had first come to the Manor. “Who are you?” Danyal asked again after a moment. 

“I’m Alfred Pennyworth, you can call me Alfred. I'm the butler at Wayne Manor, your father’s home where we currently are.” Alfred took a pause before speaking again, “Now, I hope you all will excuse me as I go fetch Master Bruce, he’s been quite excited to meet you, Young Master Danyal.”

-------

guys this was just suppose to be an itty bitty little thing. WHY DID IT TAKE ME 3 WHOLE DAYS??? im sensing a pattern and i'm not liking it.

I was suppose to be studying for physics :/

[qle-mentine]

CAN ANYONE PLEASEEEE RECOMMEND AND MEI X READER FIC (preferably female reader or gender neutral)

IM DESPERATE!!!!

[rxkuyo]

the urge to tell this woman that she's fucking dumb in the pettiest most angry way vs. me having to calm myself down and be as friendly about pointing out things she might want to reconsider because I am trying to help this horse and telling her off in any way will just result in her shutting down and not considering my (very valid) points at all

[madwickedawesome]

sometimes im just chillin and then i remember a 12 year old followed me once and they had so much personal info on their acc and it scares the shit out of me🙁

[nyankochan]

Hashira Training: Wifely Duties

Synopsis: Your husband is working hard to train the members of the Demon Slayer corps in preparation for the upcoming battle with Muzan. However, they seem a bit stressed. You decide to help in other ways, like a good wife. Pairings: [SEPARATE] Uzui x Reader, Giyu x Reader, Obanai x Reader, Sanemi x Reader, Rengoku x Reader, Gyomei x Reader

Content: MDNI, fem! reader, oral male & female receiving, dacryphilia (Uzui), bath sex (Uzui), bondage (Obanai), pregnancy (Himejima), unprotected sex, rough sex (Sanemi), overstimulation, breeding (Rengoku), I hope I didn’t forget anything else but sorry if I did.

Word count: 7.2K (bruh)

A/N: Just finished the Hashira Training Arc. No anime episode has ever stressed me more than that finale...Added Rengoku as a hypothetical what-if since he's my favorite hashira. Muichiro excluded since he's a little baby but I still love him.

Uzui Tengen: Former Sound Hashira

“Move your asses! If you don’t finish the last rep, no dinner for you tonight!”

Your husband’s loud voice carries a great distance, no surprise coming from the former sound hashira. This allows you to find him and your other co-wives fairly easily as you make your way up the mountain side where Tengen’s endurance camp had been set up.

You’re met with a somewhat…comedic(?) sight..of your flashy husband dressed in a casual kimono swinging a wooden sword at the fallen demon slayers who were clearly on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. You couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor kids.

“If you don’t get it together you’ll never survive what the other hashira have in store,” Tengen huffed, seemingly more annoyed than angry.

“Now now, Tengen-sama, don’t be so hard on the kids,” you sigh, setting down the extra pot you had been tasked with bringing to help prepare dinner. “You’ll end up giving them all nightmares.”

The way Tengen’s face lights up when he sees you makes your heart flutter. "Y/n! I was wondering where you went off to."

"I asked her to go back home to grab another stew pot," Makio chimed in, all while throwing a subtle glare towards a Suma. "Since someone forgot to do what they were told and bring it like asked.

Suma proceeds to hide behind you and Hinatsuru as you help her with the rice for the onigiri. "Uwahh! Y/n-san! Hinatsuru-san! Makio-san is targeting me again!"

"Please, don't start," You sigh.

"We all need to do our part," Hinatsuru said, like the mature woman of the group she was. "Let's do our best with dinner so that we aren't inconveniencing Tengen-sama."

With four sets of hands, you guys get dinner done by sundown, the smell of fresh onigiri and beef stew wafting through the air. However, the poor demon slayers were so worn out from your husband's brutal training, you don't think any of them would have the energy to even think about eating. Still, Tengen snaps at them to do so as to not let you all's hard work go to waste.

"Tengen-sama, please try to relax a little," you gently say, tugging on the end of his kimono. You offer him a bowl you had prepared. "It's not good to get so worked up."

Although grateful, Tengen doesn't say anything as he takes the food you offered, sipping the broth in silence.

That night, you soak in the Uzui Manner's private onsen, the stress of the day clouding your thoughts. You’re worried. You know the final battle against Muzan will inevitably happen, but you’re terrified. For your friends. For your family. What if Tengen has to come out of retirement to help? What if you and your co-wives are caught in the middle like in the Red Light District?

You’re so in your head that you don’t even hear the door open and someone enter. “What a surprise. I thought you were in bed by now.���

Tengen’s voice startles you and you’re quick to sink into the water to cover yourself. Your husband’s laughter fills your ears. “What are you being shy for?” Clad in nothing but a towel, you gawk at your husband’s physique. Despite officially retiring from the Demon Slayer Corps, his consistent training kept him in shape.

“You just surprised me…that’s all…”

Tengen settles behind you in the bath, the water sloshing as he enters and pulls you into his lap. You relax against his chest. “You wanna tell me what you were thinking about?” He asks, tracing his hand down your side making you shiver involuntarily.

“N-no….its nothing. But you seemed stressed earlier, Tengen-sama. Is there anything I can do for you.”

Tengen sighs, leaning back against the edge of the bath, arms spread and muscles tense. “It’s nothing, love, don’t worry.”

You frown. You then turn so that you’re straddling Tengen’s lap, the water splashing with your movement. Tengen raises a brow in confusion, but doesn’t question your actions. “P-please allow me to help you, Tengen-sama.”

Tengen chuckles, cupping your cheek gently. “You already do more than enough for me, and for that I’m very grateful.” The kiss he pressed against your lips starts off soft, only to grow more intense and desperate. You squirm, letting out a small whimper.

Feeling you rock against him, Tengen groans, his cock beginning to harden. He scoops you up underneath your thighs with one hand, not breaking your kiss. As he lays you down on the onsen deck, you shiver at the cold feeling of the stone. Tengen trails gentle kisses down your neck while his fingers grace your clit, stimulating the sensitive nerves.

“W-wait. W-wait,” you suddenly protest. Tengen pulls back, worried he hurt you. “I-I want to be of use to you, Tengen-sama. Please let me please you.”

Tengen wears a rather perplexed expression before chuckling. He sits back on the end of the bath. “Ok then, please me.”

You drop to your knees before your husband, taking his cock gently into your hands. It’s already stiff with arousal, pre pearling at the fat tip. Your finger traces the thick vein running up the side of Tengen’s length, making him twitch.

Tengen groaned as your warm mouth enveloped him, his head leaning back in satisfaction as his fingers gripped your hair tightly. You immediately began to suck, feeling your jaw strain as he began to swell in size. Tears prickled in your eyes, and you rest your hands on Tengen’s thighs to steady yourself.

"Mhmm fuck," Tengen moaned deeply. His low raspy voice only turned you on more. He gripped Your hair harsher and pulled you closer; you nearly gag. "Fuck. Don't stop. Use your hand. Fuck. There you go.”

You eagerly obliged, sucking him harder and taking more of him, or as much as you could cause he was just so damn big. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and it takes all Tengen’s willpower to not buck into your mouth. The sight of you looking at him so innocently, crying as you try to take his size almost has him coming down your throat. You can tell he’s close to his release from the way he tenses, muscles tightening, yet he quickly pulled you away.

“T-Tengen-sama?” You question, out of breath. Before you can react, Tengen has you pulled into his lap and your knees pressed to your chest with his arms wrapped under your legs in a rather embarrassing position that has your cunt exposed. In a single thrust, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and you’re crying out.

Tengen rests his head against your back, breathing heavily. “You’re so good to me.” He groans at the feeling of your warm cunt wrapping snuggly around him. “I love you so much.” Tengen’s grip tightens, pulling your legs back further as his hips buck up, stretching you further. The slightly uncomfortable position makes you whimper.

“But tonight, I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.”

Iguro Obanai: Serpent Hashira

You know how ruthless and impatient your husband can be, so you pity the poor slayers who were stuck in the vicious vice-like hold Obanai’s training has. Most of them had been there for at least a week, if not more, unable to perform at a level that satisfied your husband. So, you’ve taken on somewhat of a nurse role, providing first aid to the many bruises, welts and rope burns the slayers received as part of the training. Your hope was that your treatment would lessen the pain of entering the baths.

“There! All done,” you say, closing up your first aid kit having just treated the cut on one member’s face. “Next time, remember to guard your vital spots. You’re lucky it was only training. A demon wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“R-right! T-thank you Mrs. Iguro!”

You wave the slayer off as you finish packing your things up. Though you try to ignore it, you can still hear the whispering about your husband.

“How did such a sweet woman end up with a man like the serpent hashira?”

“Yeah the only real demon here is him…”

You grit your teeth in annoyance, prepared to say something when the sliding doors slam open. The atmosphere tenses as your husband walks in, a very angry and intense aura surrounding him.

“If you have time for idle chatter then you must not have worked hard enough,” Obanai scowled, Kaburamaru hissing around his neck. The slayers all quickly scramble to their feet and ran to grab their swords and avoid Obanai’s wrath.

You tug on his haori, stopping him from moving. “Dear, be nice.”

The scowl on his face somewhat softens only to immediately return when a new person announces their presence: Kamado Tanjiro.

“I look forward to training under you,” Tanjiro says, as cheerful as ever. Either he didn’t see your husband’s murderous look or he didn’t care. “Ah! Hello to you too Mrs. Y/n!”

You return the bright smile with one of your own. “It’s great to see that you’ve recovered well, Kamado-kun.”

“Oí! Don’t be so casual with my wife like you’re friends!” Obanai snapped. “And the rest of you stop gawking at her!”

You can only sigh. Of course, anything that you said practically went in one ear and out the other, and Obanai was so rough with the trainees you were surprised he didn’t break anything. Poor Tanjiro in particular seemed to get the brunt of your husband’s annoyance, leaving him with thankfully only some bruising since the training was conducted with practice swords instead of real blades. However, Obanai wouldn’t let treat anyone’s wounds this time around. The moment he ordered for them to scram somewhere, he dragged you out the dojo and back to the main house.

His grip on your wrist was tight, and you knew better than to protest when he was in his foul moods. But the fact that he hadn’t uttered a single word was making you somewhat anxious for what was to come. Was he somehow pissed off at you too?

Once you make it to your shared room and Kaburamaru slithers off somewhere, Obanai closes the sliding door. It’s just the two of you, the tension in the air is suffocating.

“U-um…O-Obanai…a-are you mad?” you try to break the silence only to receive the most piercing glare from your husband’s dual colored eyes, making you hush up instantly.

“Mad?” Obanai scoffs. “Nothing you do can make me mad at you. But…” His eyes trained to yours as he backs you into your shared futon. “I hate the way those idiots gawk and act too friendly with you. You’re my wife. You’re mine and mine alone.”

Obanai grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. His intense gaze while nerve racking is so insanely attractive that you’re whimpering quietly, trying to rub your thighs together in desperate need. Obanai picks up on this and lets out a low chuckle.

“I guess I have to remind you in other ways that you belong to me. Clothes. Off.”

You quickly start taking your kimono off, untying the Obi sash. Clearly you don’t move fast enough for your husband’s liking as he flips you on to your back and starts pulling the fabric off of you.

“W-wait, O-Obanai!” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Obanai ignores your pleas, and proceeds to use your obi to intricately tie up your l your wrists behind your back, pinning your arms almost uncomfortably together.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Obanai hums in amusement, pleased with the way the bindings were. He grabs your wrists and forces you to bend over, ass in the air. Obanai nudges your legs up to have a clear view of your dripping cunt, to which he inserts a finger, then two. You helplessly squirm against the restraints, keening against his touch.

“You’re so greedy,” Obanai scoffs. “You’re just sucking my fingers in.”

“Please, Obanai,” you beg. “I need you inside me.”

“Hm…since you asked so nicely.”

You hear him shuffle around, presumably to remove his clothes. You then feel the heat of his chest as he leans over you. Although he was somewhat rough with the restraints, Obanai is tender when he kisses your shoulder blade.

With one hand on you waist and the other on your wrists, Obanai inches his cock into you, groaning at how tight you feel around him. He bottoms out easily and you moan at the uncomfortable arch the position puts you in.

“M-move…p-please…” you whimper.

Obanai chuckles. He pulls out just to the tip before thrusting back in, setting a rough yet steady pace. His cock reaches so deep thanks to the position he has you in, making you gasp each time it kisses your cervix.

“Fuck…you feel so good…” Obanai groans. Usually he’s not one to be overly vocal during sex, but the heat of your cunt was just so addicting and he thought he would lose his mind.

“P-please…” you stumble over your words as he pounds into you. “C-can I hold you?”

Obanai falters briefly, his chest feeling strangely full. How do you always find a way to be so sweet to him? You were going to be the death of him.

Nonetheless, he unties the knot to release your wrists. He flips you over, realigning his throbbing cock at your entrance. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist to pull him close. Both of you let out shaky moans as he thrusts back in. You gently kiss at the scars on his mouth, and he shivers in response, taking one of your hands to intertwine with his.

“I love you,” he mutters so quietly you almost don’t catch it. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I love you too.”

Shinazugawa Sanemi: Wind Hashira

You’re currently pissed at your husband and ignoring him. You ignoring him has him even more pissed off, so the Shinazugawa mansion is tense and a literal war zone. The impending war against Muzan is inevitable. While you understand that, you see no reason why your husband has to be such a dick to everyone. Especially to his own younger brother.

“That damn bastard, who does he think he is, going off the rails like that,” you angrily mutter under your breath as you threat Genya’s injuries. He winced at the antiseptic on his cut. You frown. “Sorry sweetheart…”

“It’s ok…Y/n-nee…” Genya says half heartedly. The recent fight between the Shinazugawa brothers ended up escalating to a dangerous point. If it weren’t for Tanjiro’s interference, there probably would’ve been more injuries. And having known the Shinazugawa brothers since childhood, you were fiercely protective of Genya. So seeing Sanemi attack his brother the way he did without any hesitation was literally your last straw.

“I’m sorry…” Genya said.

“Hm? For what?”

“For causing trouble in you and nii-san’s marriage…” the younger boy avoids looking you in the eye. “if only I could use breathing techniques and weren’t so weak…then maybe he’d acknowledge me.”

“Awe, Gen, don’t say that,” you say, pulling the younger boy into a tight hug against your chest. “Your actions have nothing to do with my marriage. Your brother is just being a pain in the ass but that doesn’t mean I still don’t love him. I know he has a shitty way of showing it, but he does care. I’m sorry that you’ve somehow gotten in the middle of our marital problems. I promise things will get better. For all of us.”

You finish tending to his injuries before placing a tender kiss on his forehead, like you used to do when you were kids. Still, Genya’s face explodes red at your babying, making you laugh as you take your exit. As you leave, you’re surprised to see your husband standing outside the door with his arms crossed. Your face sours.

“The fuck you want?” You snap.

“Still got a fuckin attitude?” He retorts.

“Says you.” You walk off in a huff. Sanemi sighs and runs after you.

“Y/n, wait. Please talk to me.”

“About what?” You say bitterly. “I don’t got shit to say to you after the stunt you pulled. I don’t want to hear anything from you unless it’s an apology.”

“Fuck, fine I’m sorry! Now will you listen to me?!” Sanemi desperately said, grabbing a hold of your wrist to stop you. Your eyes narrow, not trusting his words. “Look. I know I was wrong but I can’t take anymore of you ignoring me and doting all over Genya.”

You snatch your hand away, scowling. “So now you’re jealous of your kid brother? I used to change his goddamn diapers.”

“That’s not…ugh fuck. Come with me!” Once more Sanemi grabs your arm, dragging you through the manner against your protests. He brings you to your shared room, which for the past few weeks you’ve stopped sleeping in out of spite. Sanemi closes the door, locking it shut.

“Now what? You got me alone.” You scoff.

“Ugh just shut up!” Sanemi yells, grabbing your chin and kissing you frantically, almost desperately. Your response is muffled and your knees immediately go weak as he forces his tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss. You’re gasping for air by the time Sanemi pulls away. He buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling your scent that he’s missed so much.

“I’m sorry…dammit…” Sanemi’s voice cracks slightly. “I don’t want to lose you too. I couldn’t bear losing another person so important to me…so please, stop being mad at me…I’m sorry.”

“Nemi…” You cup his cheek before pinching it harshly making him hiss. “You dumbass. That’s what this was all about?I didn’t realize you were this goddamn emotionally constipated.” You sigh, Sanemi now glaring at you while rubbing his cheek. You gently kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon, okay? I promise.”

Sanemi exhales, almost like a sigh of relief. “Okay.” He kisses you again, this time gentler as if he’s afraid you’ll leave. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper. “I’ve missed you.” Sanemi muttered. His hands begin to wander, trailing up the side of your waist under your uniform.

“Did you miss me, or my body?” You tease.

“Mhm? Both.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Yet you love me anyway.”

Sanemi kisses you again with more force, all while guiding you down to your shared futon. His hands are rough, groping your breasts, pinching your nipples that stiffen at his touch. You roll your hips upward to press against the growing bulge in his pants. Sanemi groans, biting your lip.

“You like testin’ my patience, don’t you?” Sanemi huffs.

“That depends,” you taunt, beginning to unbutton your uniform top. Sanemi swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You gonna do something about it?”

Sanemi grit his teeth. He grabbed you by the waist, flipping you on your backside, the rest of your clothes torn off from his own impatience. “It looks like I’ll just have to fuck the attitude out of you.”

Your husband makes do of his promise, fucking you senseless into the sheets, weeks of built up tension between the two of you finally being released. He’s aggressive and rough, gripping at your hips so tightly they’d probably bruise. Your neck is littered with bite marks, while Sanemi’s already scared torso has fresh red scratches from the way you grabbed at him. Not that he minded.

“F-fuck,” Sanemi groaned, relishing the way you clenched around his cock. His hips snapped against yours, making you gasp and shudder. “Fuck I missed this. I missed you. Don’t ever fucking ignore me again.”

“N-Nemi, please, I’m close,” you whimper.

Sanemi grins. He puts your legs over his shoulder, pressing down to pin your thighs back in a mating press. The position, though uncomfortable, allows for his cock to reach even deeper. You feel so deliciously full, Tears prickling in your eyes. you cover your mouth trying to hide the sultry moans leaving your lips.

“Nope, I need to hear you,” Sanemi pants, pulling your hair. Your cries are music to his ears. “I need everyone to know how good I fuck my beautiful wife.”

He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away your stray tears before kissing you tenderly. His pace faltered just a bit, making his thrusts more sloppy as his low grunts turned into airy moans. "Ah fuck I'm gonna come."

Sanemi gave one last deep thrust that had you gasping for air. You shivered feeling yourself be filled while your own orgasm hit. After he was sure he finished, Sanemi pulled out and sat back on his heels. He stared down you with a satisfied look on his face as some of his seed leaked from your swollen sex.

He scooped up some that spilled on to the bed and shoved it back into you. You whimpered from the overstimulation. "N-no more."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sanemi huffed. He aligned his cock at your entrance again and sank in with ease. He lets out a satisfied sigh and pulls you to his chest. "There. Now it'll stay in."

Tomioka Giyu: Water Hashira

“Tomioka-San? Hello! Tomioka-San? Excuse me? Are you there? Sorry to bother you. It’s Kamado Tanjiro!”

It’s the third day in a row the young boy has come by. At this point, you find it quite comical but you can tell your husband is losing his patience.

“Just entertain him, dear,” you say, folding up the laundry. “You know he’s not going to stop until you answer.”

Giyu doesn’t say anything before picking up his katana and leaving the room. You sigh. He had been so distant since the hashira training started. For some reason, he opted not to participate, and you could only assume that’s why Tanjiro’s been by every day to convince him otherwise. Nothing you could say would really change his mind either. The last few nights Giyu had been staying out later, only returning when he knew you’d fallen asleep and leaving first thing in the morning.

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you hope he’d open up soon. Or maybe, hopefully Tanjiro could talk some sense into him. You decide to at least go to the door and greet the boy.

“Giyu-San!? Maybe he’s not home…”

“He just left, in fact,” you say, opening the door. “Maybe you can catch him for me.”

“Ah! Y/n-san! H-hello! Sorry if I disturbed you!” Tanjiro said with a bow.

“No not at all! You’re always welcome here.” You then sigh. “Sorry my stubborn husband is causing you such trouble. If it’s not too much to ask, please talk some sense into him. I’m sure whatever it is it’s important.

Tanjiro smiled. “Of course! Leave it to me!”

For the next five days, Tanjiro shows up, trying to get your husband to talk to him. You’re thoroughly entertained by the situation that you do little to mitigate, ignoring Giyu’s obvious and desperate looks for help. After almost two weeks of this, Giyu finally comes home early one night with a rather defeated expression. You’re in bed reading when he enters your shared room and immediately collapses on the futon.

“Rough day?” You tease.

“Tanjiro doesn’t know when to quit,” Giyu sighs. He sheds his haori and places his is katana off to the side. “He wanted to have a soba eating contest?”

You laugh. “Did you win?”

“No. I yielded and promised to help with the hashira training.” Giyu doesn’t seem to thrilled by it from the tone of his voice. You frown, close your book and motion for your husband closer. Like a child, he crawls into your lap, laying his head against your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. Giyu sighs contently, inhaling your scent.

“Why were you so against participating in the first place? I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble understanding,” you say, gently running your fingers through his long hair, pulling it out of his usual ponytail.

“Can we talk about it later?” Giyu mumbles. He nuzzles his face into your chest. “I just wanna hold you right now.”

You cup Giyu’s cheeks, forcing him to look at you. You smile. “It’s ok. I’m here for you.” You kiss him gently. Giyu relaxes into the kiss, groaning at the softness of your lips. “I love you so much. Don’t forget, okay?”

Giyu exhales. “Okay.”

He kisses you again, this time with more urgency. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close as you lay back down into the futon. Giyu trails kisses down the side of your neck, leaving love bites in their wake. His wandering hands tug at your nightgown, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His hair tickles your cheek making you giggle.

“Come on,” you tease, unbuttoning the top of Giyu’s uniform. “Clothes off.” His cheeks were flushed red, and his arousal was evident from the growing bulge in his pants.

“Help me, will you?” Giyu asks, shyly hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He watches while you unbuckle his belt and losen his trousers so that they fall to the floor. He could almost sigh from the instant relief when you release his erection from the confines of his boxers.

You give his cock a few languid strokes, making Giyu shudder in response. He twitched in your hand as you rub your thumb over the sensitive tip, precum beginning to leak out.

“A-ah…f-feels good…” Giyu groans. He has to steady himself on his elbows, resting his forehead against yours. It takes all his strength not to cum right there on the spot. He hikes your leg up around his waist and aligns his cock at your dripping entrance. “Relax, okay? I got you.”

Giyu slowly thrusts in, your wetness causing little resistance. You both groan at the feeling of him stretching you out. Your hips buck upwards, searching for more.

“G-Giyu, m-more,” you plea.

Your husband grunted and picked up the pace. He couldn't get the enough of the way you felt around him. The way your gummy walls would convulse with each snap of his hips. Your high pitched and needy moans for him and him alone nearly drove him over the edge.

"T-there! A-again!" You beg. You wrap your arms around Giyu’s shoulders to hold him close. Capturing your lips again, Giyu sucked hard on them in order to bruise. His thumb jabbed against your clit.

The action caused You to cum. You squealed, biting down on his tongue, making him growl. Your clit pulsated, feeling like it was still vibrating. Tingles raced through veins, rocking your entire body.

"F-fuck, I'm close!" Giyu pants.

His own high was reaching. His thrusts became less rhythmic and more sloppy. Low grunts and moans left his lips. The feeling of You tightening around his dick even more was enough to send him over the edge.

He comes with a low groan. His body rocks and he collapses on top of you, burrying his head into the crook of your neck once more. You squirm feeling him release into your womb.

Giyu pulls out, almost reluctantly and pulls you into his chest. He holds you close as you lull off to sleep. Before you doze off you hear your husband mutter a soft “I love you.”

Himejima Gyomei: Stone Hashira

“Damn it!” You huff. “Why…huff…did his…huff…training…huff…have to be on top of a stupid mountain!”

You slowly waddle your way up the top of the mountain side, on your way to deliver lunch to your husband who had been preoccupied for weeks with the Hashira training. He barely had been home. If he was, it was usually long after you had gone to sleep just to check on you and your unborn child. Then, he was gone before dawn to resume the training.

You missed him dearly. You hated how empty and cold your futon felt without his warmth. You hated how antsy you felt with not only the fear of the upcoming battle with Muzan looming in the distance, but the anxiety knowing that your due date was approaching within the next month. Sitting around was driving you crazy, so you took it upon yourself to make your husband a home cooked meal and bring it to him, asking the crow to guide you. What you didn’t expect was him to be at the top of a literal fucking mountain.

“Ugh I can’t do this…” you groaned, pausing at a random tree to rest. “My feet are cramping and if this child kicks me in my bladder one more time…”

“Eh? Mrs. Himejima?”

“Eh? Ah! Genya!” While you’re thrilled to see the boy that you’ve quite honestly grown attached to like your own child, he on the other hand is freaking out. Why were you out here alone in your condition? Did Himejima know that you were here? What should he do? Help you get home?

“Genya, have you seen Gyomei?” You eagerly ask, grabbing the boy’s hands. “I was trying to surprise him with lunch, but I kinda got lost on my way up here. It’s such a ways away from the other hashira isn’t it.”

“U-um I-I,” Genya stammered. He then sighed. He couldn’t say no to you when your expression was so innocent. He also wouldn’t forgive himself he let you get hurt. “Ok. I’ll lead the way. P-please be careful. Let me know immediately if you need anything!”

“Of course!”

You follow Genya down a path, asking the boy how his training has been with the other hashira. Eventually, the sound of roaring water fills your ears and you both arrive to a massive water fall.

“Namu Amida Butsu,” someone chants and you realize that there are demon slayers standing under the water, bracing the impact.

“Oh my, this is Gyomei’s training?” You gasp.

“Only the first part,” Genya sighs. “Most people collapse and don’t get past the rest.”

“I see.” You’re not that surprised that your husband’s session was the seemingly most physically challenging and demanding. It would of course be no issue for him as his giant stature and inhuman strength made even the most impossible of tasks look like a breeze. But you feel for the younger ones who haven’t quite figured out how to unlock that same inner strength.

“Eh? Wait? Is that Zenitsu!?” You exclaimed, realizing you recognized a head of yellow hair floating down the river. “Ehh! Oh dear! Zenitsu!”

“Wait! Mrs. Himejima!”

You’re already waddling toward the riverbed, trying to reach out and grab the seemingly unconscious boy. You strain as you try your best to grab him, but he slips past you. The rocks are slick with water and before you realize it, you lose your balance. Before you tumble forward, someone grabs you by your waist and gently lifts you out of the river.

“My love, what ever are you doing here?” The low, calm rumble of your husband’s voice fills your ears. Your cheeks warm as your face lights up in excitement.

“Gyomei!” You turn in his arms to hug him around his neck. “I missed you! I bought you lunch! Come on, let’s eat it before it gets cold.”

Gyomei chuckles. “Let’s get you out of the wet clothes first so you do not catch a cold.” He looks over to Genya and gives a slight nod. “Thank you for looking after her. You can be done for the day, Genya.”

“R-right! Thank you, sensei.”

You talk your husband’s ear off about nonsense, him listening with a smile on his face as he carries your back home. By the time you make it back though, you’re sneezing, shivering slightly from the cold.

“My love, what ever were you doing up there?” Gyomei asks, setting you down. He gently unties your Obi, sliding the wet kimono off your shoulders. “You could’ve been hurt, dear.”

“I wanted to surprise you with lunch…” you say somewhat bash fully. “I haven’t seen you much and I’ve really missed you.”

Gyomei softly smiles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected.” He unties the juban undergarment and you’re left completely bare and exposed before him.

You feel slightly self conscious. Your body has changed so much from the pregnancy. Your breasts were constantly swollen and tender. Your stomach now round and full with stretch marks streaking across your thighs. Yet, Gyomei’s hands are gentle as he explores the new changes to your body. His fingers grace over the curve of your belly, smiling as he feels his baby…your baby…kick against his palm.

“It’s ok…” you let out a shaky breath. “I know it’s your job.”

“No, my first priority is you and will always be you,” Gyomei insists.

“M-mei, can you touch me?” You plea.

“But you’re so far along now. I do not wish to hurt you, my love.”

“You won’t!” Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been missing the gentle intimacy with your husband due to his busy schedule. Either way, you’re finding yourself overcome with desire, wanting nothing but for Gyomei to take and fill you up. “Please?”

Gyomei sighs. He can’t say no to you. “If I hurt you at any point please let me know.”

Laying down, Gyomei pulls you by your waist over his face, his hot breath tickling your core. Your face flushes. “W-wait, Mei, I’ve gained so much weight cause of the pregnancy. I’m so much heavier now and-“

“I don’t care,” Gyomei says, his gentle hands caressing your skin. “You can sit.”

“B-but-“

“Sit.”

The command leaves your legs weak and you settle down over your husband’s face. He grips your waist as he begins to eat you out. You gasp, for some reason more overly sensitive than usual.

“M-Mei-“ you whimper. You rock your hips in tangent with his tongue. Gyomei’s touch tickles your skin. He traces the curve of your stomach, making you shiver. He cups your breasts. They feel larger, and more swollen than usual in preparation to breastfeed. Your nipples are more sensitive too, stiff from Gyomei playing with them.

Your thighs try to clench shut, which Gyomei puts an immediate stop to. He forces your legs open wider to have deeper access to your dripping cunt as he greedily laps up everything you drop. Your essence is so sweet and he can never get enough of you.

As much as he hates to admit it, he’s hated how much his responsibilities as hashira have taken his focus away from you. He’s missed your touch, your taste. He’s missed your scent and your presence. He has noticed all the subtle ways your body has changed and he hates that he hasn’t been around more often to witness it.

“A-ah, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, gripping at Gyomei’s hair. You let out a soft cry as your orgasm hits. Your body shudders and you feel your clit tingle as Gyomei sucks on the sensitive nerves. He laps up your release, squeezing your hips to ground himself. “W-wait. T-too much.” Suddenly, a second orgasm rocks your body that leaves you gasping. Your legs have lost their feeling, and you couldn’t stand even if you wanted to.

Gyomei pulls you into his lap. He hugs you into his chest, his hands snaking under your stomach to lift it gently and provide you some sort of relief. You sigh contently now that some of the weight was lifted.

“Are you alright my love?” Gyomei asks, kissing the back of your neck.

“Mm..” Your cheeks flush as you can feel your husband’s straining erection by sitting on his lap. His hard cock presses against his pants, yet he makes no effort to deal with it. “M-mei, do you…um want some help with…”

Gyomei chuckles, his chest rumbling. “Please do not worry about me, love. Your comfort and pleasure is my first priority.”

Rengoku Kyojuro: Flame Hashira

Like Uzui, Rengoku came out of retirement to help with the Hashira training. His session would take place after one passed Tokito’s endurance training and focused on working on Total Concentration Breathing.

Seems easy, no?

Reality is most people pass out due to their inability to regulate their breathing correctly, thus having to start the process all over again. Your job is to go around a bring water to keep the slayers hydrated. But most are unable to drink due to the constricting feeling of the lungs after trying to recover from constantly using total concentration breathing. That along with the other physical strains it puts on the body. So you just do your best to encourage people to drink when they can.

“Come now! You must focus on the flow of your breathing and raise your awareness of your entire body!” Your husband���s loud voice carries across the training grounds. You can even hear him when inside. “Mastering this will even allow you to detect the most hidden injuries and slow the progression of poisons”

“Darling, don’t overwork them,” you say, coming outside with a new pitcher of drinks and cups. You offer him a cup, which he gratefully takes. “Let them catch their breath first.”

“Very well! 3 minutes then we shall start the next rep!”

You can feel all the gracious looks from the junior slayers as they can finally recuperate for a moment, even if brief. You know your husband isn’t intentionally trying to be harsh. He just gets so passionate about something and sometimes seems to forget that others do not possess the same strength or stamina as him.

“Hello? Rengoku-San?” A familiar voice calls out. It’s a face you and Kyojuro haven’t seen in a minute.

“Ah! Kamado! Long time no see!” Kyojuro exclaims. “I’m glad to see you’re in good condition!”

“It’s good to see you again! You too, Y/n-san!”

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” you say cheerfully. “Good luck with the training.”

Since Tanjiro had already had some experience with Total Concentration Breathing, his session was slightly modified. He’d have to tackle the XL gourd, bigger than the one he did at the Butterfly Mansion and then would spar with Kyojuro. If he stopped his Breathing he’d have to restart. But before any of that, for a warm up, all slayers had to run a 5K while maintaining their breathing.

By the time the sun set, just about everyone was passed out, beyond exhausted from the day. Kyojuro was still in overly good spirits, and full of energy as if the training didn’t even cause him to break a sweat.

“Kyo, I think it’s best to call it a day,” you deadpan.

“Really? But it’s not even dark yet?” Your husband has the most innocent look on his face.

You frown but then an idea strikes you. You lean in close to Kyojuro so that others around you can’t hear the next filthy words that leave your lips.

“If you still have so much energy left, why don’t you use that to put a baby in me like you’ve been wanting.”

You walk off without letting him respond, so you miss the way Kyojuro’s face explodes red. He rambles off some sort of excuse to the other slayers about training concluding for the day before rushing off to find you.

You wait patiently in your room, undressing so that you’re in nothing but your underwear by the time your husband arrives in a frenzy. Kyojuro’s face is flushed, chest chest heaving. The moment he spots you, he picks you up and pins you to the nearest wall, kissing you with urgency.

You groan as Kyojuro’s tongue forces its way into your mouth. His hands gripping the meat of your thighs tightly as he presses his growing erection against your exposed core.

“Feel so big, Kyo,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his.

“My flame, did you mean what you said earlier?” Kyojuro pants, his voice husky and airy as what little restraint he had started slipping away. He needed to fill you up and feel you around him bad, but he wouldn’t unless you were serious.

“Put a baby in me, Kyojuro,” you all but demand.

“If that is what my lovely life wishes,” Kyojuro chuckles. He lays you on the futon and sheds his clothes quickly. “Then I shall fulfill.” His cock is already stiff against his abdomen, twitching in his hand as pre cum oozes from the tip. You trace your fingers down his scared torso, noting the way Kyojuro’s muscles tense at your touch.

“I can’t wait to see what you look like when you tummy’s all swollen and full with my child,” Kyojuro said, aligning his cock at your entrance, his cheeks flushed. “You’ll make such a good mother.”

In a single thrust, Kyojuro sheathed his cock into your cunt to the hilt. The penetration left your eyes watering, crying out in pleasure. Kyojuro groaned. You felt so snug and warm around him that it took everything to keep from pounding into you right away.

“G-gods…you feel so good…”

“K-kyo, m-move,” you beg, trying to move your hips for some sort of friction.

Kyojuro grunts. He pins your legs to your chest, With a languid roll of his hips, he experimentally pulled his length out from the clamp of your hole. And with a sharp snap, he drove himself back into you. The sheer force of his scorching length shot the first wave of pleasure through the both of you. The two of you let out low moans. That first penetration gave way to a succession of increasingly rougher thrusts that had your body burning with pleasure.

Kyojuro’s body shuddered slightly anticipation. You clung to him and dug your nails in his shoulders trying to keep him close. The way his cock stretched you out had you feeling so full and lightheaded, leaving you babbling his name like a mantra.

Kyojuro groaned. He hovered over you, leaning down the kiss you passionately. His hands trailed up side to your nipples that became erect from pleasure. Lips trailing up the side of your neck, he left several bite marks.

"Ah a-ah t-that feels funny." You squirmed. "Kyo ~"

The sound of you moaning his name made Kyojuro’s cock throb. He fumbled slightly, his aggressive and frantic rutting becoming slower and slightly sloppy, instead.

“Ugh, coming,” Kyojuro groaned. He buried himself all the way to the hilt inside you. His orgasm hit and it hit hard. His dick pulsated with each subsequent spurt of cum. His hips still as he emptied inside you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your insides snap. Your pussy clenching tightly around Kyojuro, practically milking him as your own high shakes your body.

“S-shit,” Kyojuro gasps. He pulled out of your abused hole, watching the way his seed trickled out. The sight made his dick twitch. “This won’t do,” he chuckled while pulling your legs up around his waist. “At this rate, I won’t get you pregnant. Guess I’ll just have to fill you up again and again until it sticks.”

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

[thinkinonsense]

I KNEW YOU IN ANOTHER LIFEᰔ

dp&w!logan howlett x past wife!reader

cw: mostly angst, some fluff, sorta mean logan, cussing.

wc: 800+

a/n: this is inspired by a one-shot I read a while back but I cannot remember who wrote it. If anyone knows, please please please let me know in the comments so I can give them credit <3 update!!! this is it!!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The last person you thought you would find here in the void is Logan. There has never been a Wolverine in here. You almost didn't believe it when you found out; needing to see him for yourself. And here he was. Right in front of you, the Logan you grieved all those years ago. The one who stole your heart.

Your Logan.

"And who the fuck are you?" He barked, pushing you away from him.

Those words broke your heart the second they left his lips.

Wade smacks Logan, informing him of your past together. Logan looked like he didn't believe Wade at first. You were way too beautiful for any version of him, Logan thought. What would someone like you want with a man like him?

Tears well up in your eyes as you leave, not wanting it to sting anymore. Laura follows you, glaring at the man who looked like her father. Logan didn't seem to care about the new information, instead reaching for another one of Gambit's bottles.

"I'm sorry, mom," Laura whispers, wrapping her arms around you.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not sure what I expected to happen." You sniffle. "He just looks so much like him."

"I know."

Suddenly, Laura stood up and stomped out the door to confront the man who upset her mother. She found Logan sitting outside alone by the fire.

"Look kid, I'm not the man you and your mother think I am." Logan sighs, not even bothering to turn around to check if it's Laura.

"You made her cry," Laura hissed, ignoring his previous comment. Logan looked up at the young girl almost apologetically before shaking his head. "Her Logan would have never made her cry."

Logan felt a sharpness in his stomach at the news. Deep down, he wondered if you two were together at some point. He doubted it though because you looked out of his league. If a past version of him managed to marry you then maybe he did some good during his time.

"If you two haven't noticed, I'm the worst Logan apparently."

"You don't have to be."

ᰔ

It's late when you finally stumble out of bed, not able to sleep. Hours of tossing and turning, trying to get Logan out of your mind. This felt like a cruel joke on your poor heart. You know it's unfair to have him pretend to be your Logan but you desperately wanted it to be him.

All of your memories together haunt your mind like a graveyard. Sweet Sundays spent wrapped in sheets. How he kissed your face every morning, had you wear his dog tags, and ride on the back of his motorcycle. You would give anything to get just one of those moments back.

"What are you doin' awake?"

The voice behind you caused you to jump slightly. A hand coming to rest on your back. You turn around, face-to-face with Logan.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, opening the freezer to pull out a container of strawberry ice cream.

"That shit won't help you sleep." He grunts, sitting at the table. You ignore his grumpiness and continue scooping the ice cream into a bowl.

"Can we talk?" Logan didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. Too ashamed of his actions earlier.

"I suppose so." You shrugged, pulling the spoon from between your lips.

"Were we really married?"

You answer by pulling the chain around your neck for him to see. A small diamond ring dangled next to the dog tags he gave you. The moment he saw it, he felt like the biggest asshole who ever lived.

"How many years?" The words stung in his throat.

"Five."

"What was our life like?"

"Perfect." You smile softly down at your bowl. "At least it was to me."

"You did a good job with raising her." He muttered, referring to Laura.

"You would have to."

He's silent for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being a husband and a father. He wished he knew what it was like to be cared for as much as you cared for your Logan.

"You know, you have the same look in your eyes," Your voice was so quiet, stepping closer to him until you were in front of him.

Logan could see the desperation on your face as you stared at his lips. It would be wrong for him to toy with your widowed heart, but he wanted to be the man you needed. The man you deserved.

"I'm not him, sweetheart," He said, attempting to stop you before you hurt yourself. "And I don't want you to get hurt-"

"Please," You beg, eyes filling up with tears. "I don't care who you are. I just don't want it to hurt anymore."

You were slowly killing him. How could he say no to you? Even if he was the worst Logan, he has a heart. Which is why he lets you close the gap between the two of you. His hands are tangled in your hair while one of yours rests on his jaw before climbing into his lap.

For the first time in years, your heart began beating again. You and Logan could play pretend for now. Neither of you cared what would happen tomorrow, right now was all that mattered.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint.  A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none. 

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any. 

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute. 

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need? 

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir. 

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven. 

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago. 

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus. 

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy. 

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away. 

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home. 

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard. 

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube. 

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her? 

And god, how he would fuck her… 

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob. 

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.  

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of. 

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things? 

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all. 

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job. 

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up. 

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb. 

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for… 

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically. 

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present. 

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear." 

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways. 

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying. 

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?" 

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too. 

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty. 

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening? 

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress. 

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips. 

Mein.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin. 

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries. 

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams. 

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin. 

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined. 

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds. 

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for. 

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child... 

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...? 

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft. 

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go. 

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove. 

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…" 

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness. 

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had. 

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely. 

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog. 

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck. 

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content. 

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity. 

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women. 

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one. 

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in. 

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs. 

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him. 

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?" 

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy. 

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes. 

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets. 

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his. 

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness. 

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

[luveline]

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure. 

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips. 

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.” 

You step over it and almost slip. 

“Careful,” someone says. 

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.” 

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably. 

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?” 

“Let me help you with this.” 

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock. 

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down. 

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?” 

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.” 

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving. 

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.” 

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack. 

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.” 

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.” 

“Oh, sure. Of course.” 

“You haven’t heard it yet.” 

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…” 

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.” 

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested. 

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.” 

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly. 

His voice is velveteen. 

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.” 

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.” 

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Can I pay you back?” 

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist. 

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive. 

“How would you do that?” you ask. 

“Is there anything else you… need help with?” 

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too. 

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.” 

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.” 

[sp1d3rzz]

pt.2

Can we talk about how much of a pervert Midoriya is???

Warning !! : Masturbation, degradation, and pussy eating. Lemme know if I missed anything ^^

Like think about it. Your average bullied 'weird' kid who honestly doesn't have a lot, (no friends, no quirk, and certainly no girlfriend) is just so dirty.

Uses his computer a LOT. You can't tell me he isn't sitting there jerking off to his oddly specific choice in hentai because he can't stop thinking about how girl's hand accidentally brushed against his while walking.

Poor thing probably doesn't even know the girl was definitely gossiping with her friends later about the accident.

"I mean, did you see the way his cheeks went bright red?" followed along with a few "yeah"'s and "that guy is so weird"'s.

Or maybe he does?? Maybe he imagines how much shit the girls talk about him so his orgasm comes even faster. Midoriya finds pleasure in someone who knows how to put him in his place.

His rough hand moving up and down his length, biting down extra hard on the hem of his favorite 'Plus Ultra!' shirt to keep him from making too much noise.

Groans and whines are heard from behind the door to his room as he trails a thumb over his slit, bringing the pre-cum around his tip to ease the tension. His head dips back and his eyes close.

He imagines the feeling of being stepped and shoved into the floor with the heel of his favorite hentai cosplayer. Insults and degrading words going through his ears and to the blood of which flows to his girthy cock.

"You're such a naughty boy, hm?", "Say it, say your mommy's naughty little boy.", "Want me to spit on you?...Yes?? Dirty bitch."

Saddest part is that he just can't help how he feels. Always becoming heated whenever a girl tells him how messy and improper his hair is.

Of course, she means it as a way to make him feel self-conscious about himself. But little does she know how he thinks about how it'd look even messier if she were to tug at his green strands while he ate her out like it was his last meal.

Mouth desperately sucking up the juices of her cunt as he moans and whimpers pathetically from just the pure taste of her warmth.

His nose swiping against her clit every time he adjusts himself to get a better angle. Arms wrapping around plush thighs to bring her closer to his face.

"Tastes— so good–" he'll buck his hips up into nothing just to cool his sensations. Eyes watch every move she makes, just to make sure he's doing this right. Just to make sure he's pleasing her.

And when she finally cums and scoots herself away from him, she see's her wetness and cum have coated his face messily. The sight might be sexy, but who wants to do anything more with a loser like him?

So when she gets up and leaves like nothing even happened (despite the fact she's practically shaking as cum leaks through her panties), he follows her to the door.

"B-bye!" he calls out, and isn't surprised when she slams her car door, starts the car, and drives away. Just a little hurt.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy on Fear Gas (can apparently turn invisible)

Masterpost

“Danny was supposed to be in class today.”

There was a round of sighs in the coms. See Danny didn’t react in the same manner as the rest of the population when exposed to fear toxin (or in general, but they were mostly used to that). See Danny didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, he didn’t get violent. He got unnervingly paranoid.

He got so unnervingly paranoid about being watched, specifically by the government if the muttered and whispered words were to be believed. His eyes tracked nothing while he slowly moved around invisible people. It wasn't like dealing with someone in an active hallucination experiencing a psychotic break. It was like dealing with someone in a paranoid delusion. He wouldn't let any of the bats near him and often took off, disappearing into the chaos.

Four months into seeing this kid everywhere and their suspicions were confirmed when he literally disappeared after the second time being poisoned.

Danny was a meta and he was afraid.

That’s not the reason for the exasperation felt by this family though. It was what always happened after. The first time he ignored every vigilantly when they tried to bring it up. After the second time he attempted to avoid everyone, extended family included.

(He had asked Kate if she was also Batman’s kid. “More like their aunt.” “Oh okay so it really is a family business. Like that show Unnatural. You don't happen to have also lost your parents at a relatively young age and now go on to fight a dark presence in their honor, do you?.” Kate had stared passively at him, the others had warned her. “….. okay… are you more of a Zuko honor type?”)

However, it was like the universe conspired against Danny. Even Bruce agreed that there had to be some god or being doing this (nothing is ever a coincidence). They kinda felt bad for him. He was very obviously trying to avoid them and he was either really bad at being evasive or a deity was laugh at him. Once he had thrown himself behind a lamp pole smaller than himself and closed his eyes to avoid Stephanie.

(It was very awkward. He could turn invisible and knew they knew so why…..? She had politely continued past so not to embarrass the poor guy further. Cause this was embarrassing and they both knew it.)

Finally it was Duke who pulled them all out of limbo. He had come across Danny on the roof of another bank. A lesser known capital union closer to crime ally this time.

Danny hadn’t been avoiding Duke in the same manner as everyone else. He still stopped to give Duke food but he never spoke and he ran after. Duke thought it would be weird to chase him but it was also weird to turn around, have an orange shoved into his hands then watch his friend run away.

However, this time Danny didn’t run as Duke approached so Duke sat next to him. Pulling out a granola bar, he handed it to Danny, “that’s why you feed me all the time right? Cause you know how many calories we need as metas.”

Danny had laughed, “no actually, that was a bit that morphed into a habit. I just thought it was funny.”

“….what.”

“Don’t get me wrong, now that we’re friends I am more than happy to feed you but yeah. The first candy bar was a thank you and then the second time I thought ‘I have fruit.’”

“….. wow… okay.” There went his plan of empathizing. They sat in silence as Duke tried to reorganize his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you all.” Duke turned his head to face Danny, who kept his eyes forward, “you know no one cares that you’re a meta.” “Obviously. It wasn’t the invisibility that I was upset about," Danny said.

“The muttering. The paranoia.” Danny grimaced and didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to tell us till you’re ready, man. Just let us know if you need help. Please, are you safe?”

Danny nodded and Duke nodded back and they had both continued to sit. When they parted ways Danny handed Duke a small bag of chips.

Danny had apologized everyone one at a time even though they had heard it from Duke. Danny never explained nor did he want to talk about his it. His power of invisibility was also a subject off limits. All of them were worried but they didn’t want to force him to talk about it. They had to trust that he would one day feel comfortable doing so with any or all of them. (Still, it was hard seeing their friend so paranoid that he flinched back from them. )

Post Six

[bellatrixscurls]

two ghosts | part 1

pov : lily rejects james many times, until he finally gives up. but y/n and sirius are there for him, in more ways than one.

warnings : smut (next part), mentions of ex!bully!james, fluff (it probably sucks cus i only know how to write smut), sub jamie if you squint, pet names, established relationship between reader and sirius. please lmk if there are more! <3

part two

“I’m telling you, sweetheart. It’s nothing your pretty cunt can’t fix” Sirius winks at you, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth, causing you to roll your eyes. He obviously notices, as he is sat across from you, and smirks.

Remus is eyeing you both suspiciously, and clears his throat. “I can think of more situations you,” he looks at you and you blush slightly in embarrassment, “cannot fix. So what is it now?”

Sirius giggles like a little kid, and you shake your head, your cheeks way too red by now. “I think Prongs needs some.. relief. Poor thing is so crabby these days, and it’s all because of that stupid mudblood.”

“Sirius!” you shriek, kicking his foot under the table. “Okay, alright! I was just looking for something bad to say about her.”

Remus rolls his eyes and Peter places his fork down, blue eyes wide as he stares at you, clearly interested. “What do you mean by relief? I mean, he’s been refusing to tell me what’s wrong and yes, he is acting a bit strange, but I can’t think of anything that could help him. Unless you want to get him a date with Evans, which is not an option.”

Peter’s speech leaves all of you speechless. You’ve looked at the situation as more of a joke, not realising how sweet Jamie turned to grumpy, fussy James. “I mean, not that I would want to get him a date with that one” Sirius scoffs, his hands raising in surrender as you and Remus glare at him.

“And why would that be, Sirius?” you find it’s your turn to tease him, to which he scoffs again, giving you an wide-eyed look when he spots James approaching the ton of you.

His head is a mess of curls that bounce furiously as he walks messily, his eyes are bigger than usual and his face seems to scream ‘I’m tired!’. His clothes, surprisingly, are not wrinkled. Well, it’s a surprise to anyone but you, cus you are the one who prepared them for him the night before.

“Morning” his voice is thick with sleep, barely gazing at you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side only for a few seconds. “Thank you for taking care of me” he says softly, obviously referring to his robe, shirt and trousers.

Your eyebrows shoot up, clearly surprised by the little gesture, and the guys seem to be as surprised, if not more than you are. “No bother, Jamie.”

The atmosphere in the common room is tense, and you all can sense it. Even James.

“You can talk to me, you know” he scoffs, slightly annoyed as he looks up for merely a second, eyeing Sirius, and his face somehow softens.

Sirius looks at him sadly. “We are worried about you, we don’t want you to lose yourself just because some red-headed chick doesn’t want you.”

And then, you all know that he screwed up.

James stands up abruptly, and looks down at Sirius, his usually gentle blue eyes now a few shades darker. “She’s not- You don’t know what it feels like, Sirius” he calls him by his first name, not Pads, and not Siri, and you can see Sirius’ face soften and his bottom lip jutting out just slightly. “You’ve found Y/n a long time ago, and even before you didn’t have a problem with girls ever refusing you. You don’t know how it feels.”

You all fall silent, your hand coming up to gently rub at his back, his head leaning into your neck as he nuzzles against your skin. “We just want our Jamie back, honey. I promise you so many other people in this school want you for you.”

“You promise?” he looks at you with those doe eyes that always make you melt.

“I do. And maybe it’s best that you didn’t get with Lily, who knows what would’ve happened. I promise there is someone there for you.”

By the end of your speech, you can only hear James hum softly as you continue to rub his back. A few minutes pass by, and Remus whispers to you, letting you know that James is sleeping. And so you sit more comfortably against the sofa, allowing yourself to rest for a little bit as well.

♥︎

Shifting pulls you from your deep slumber only a few hours later, and you find your arms empty, no trace of James anywhere. You sigh softly as you move to stand up, taking the blanket, that you were not aware was there, with you.

“Sweetheart, you’re awake” Sirius beams when you stand up, and you almost have a heart attack when you hear his voice, being pulled away from your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, lazily dragging yourself and finally throwing yourself into his arms, the boy taking that as a sign to sit down, with you still in his arms. “I missed you” you smile into his chest, engulfed by his intoxicating scent. He smells like he always does, but to you, it’s much more than that.

“Me too, sweetheart” he kisses your forehead, his eyes closing and so do yours.

But little do you know, James is watching the two of you the entire time, and his heart drops and swells at the same time. He wants that, but he is glad that his best friends have it.

♥︎

The next day, you walk with Sirius, hand in hand, towards your Herbology class. He is telling you about his new partner in partner in Potions when you spot James leaning against the wall, talking to Lily.

“Siri, he’s doing it again” you pout, looking up at your boyfriend as he looks in their direction, his eyes darkening at the sight.

“Oh fuck” he swears under his breath, and you frown. “I can’t hear him cry for the entire night again, breaks my heart” he gulps and you brush your hand against his cheek gently, making him look st you.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe he is okay now” you try to reason with him and he seems to soften for a moment, not long though, cus James is messily walking away from Lily, his eyes red and lips puffy. You look back at him, his eyes not once leaving yours as he walks away, heading towards the Gryffindor Tower.

“Yeah, he seems pretty content” Sirius scoffs to himself, running one of his hands through his hair as the other holds your waist.

“Bring him to my dorm” you tell him, your eyes widening before you continue. “I- I mean, both of you. We can take care of him, make sure he doesn’t feel alone and maybe forgets what happened for the night.”

Sirius looks at you like you are his Moon, the one who always brightens his path when it gets dark. I mean, he’s told you that before.

“You are a genius!”

♥︎

After classes, you went to find James, but found him in the worst situation you thought possible.

He is with Lily. Meanwhile the red-head is reading her book on the sofa, James is knelt in front of her, gently tugging at her delicate arm, but she pays him no mind. “Lily, I just- please, just a date, just one” he whispers softly, not wanting to disturb her more than he already does.

She rolls her eyes, and sighs. “James, I don’t know how many times to tell you that I’m not interested” she says sadly, and you can see his bottom lip quivering. “I don’t.. you were mean to my friends, James. Mean to me. For a very long time, and even though it was long before you liked me, I can’t” she finally confesses, cupping his cheek with her palm.

Your eyes widen and so do James’.

He lets out a soft ‘oh’ and quickly wipes his tears, baby blue eyes blinking in shock. He didn’t know.

“Oh okay... Okay then, that’s fine” he nods frantically, slowly standing up from his knees and brushing his hands over his robe. “I’m sorry, Lily” you see him pout slightly before he practically runs away.

You wait until Lily stands up and finally follow James upstairs, not wanting to make it seen like you were eavesdropping. You were, but.

Knocking gently on the door, you are met with a muffled and small ‘yes?’

“Jamie, it’s Y/n” you lean your head against the door, your eyes closing as you listen to the shuffling in the room.

Moments later, he opens the door and your shoulders drop when you see his state. He hasn’t been himself for weeks now, but he has never looked this way until now. He looks a mess, and his bed is the same.

“Darling” you frown slightly, not touching him because you don’t know if that’s okay yet. “D’you wanna go to my dorm? You can stay with me tonight, Siri will be there too.”

You try to soothe him, explaining that you will listen to him as much as he needs, but when he hears ‘your dorm’ and ‘Siri’, his ears perk up and he starts nodding fervently, grabbing his blanket and shutting the door behind him.

You give him a small smile before you guide him to your dorm, where your boyfriend is waiting for you. He probably doesn’t expect you to manage to get James to come, so his eyes widen a little bit when he sees him, but he clears his throat and stands up from your couch, greeting you. Sirius’ arms snake around your waist as he gives you a sweet peck on the lips, before he moves to James.

The bespectacled boy’s back is glued to the door, sitting there timidly as he tries not to look at you both, but he fails miserably. “Hi there, Prongsie” Sirius teases him and James smiles a genuine smile, his eyes closing as Sirius brings him into his arms, the long-haired’s boy scent just as intoxicating as it is to you.

“Do you want to talk to us, babe? Tell us what happened?” you quip as you take James’ hand in yours and you usher him to sit on your perfectly made bed, the sheets soft beneath him.

He looks up at you, then at Sirius, and sighs softly. “I used to be a bully” he confesses, as if it is a secret, “And ‘s why she doesn’t like me... Lily.”

Sirius’ grimace is more than present on his face. He remembers those times, up until third year, when he met you. You’ve changed him, and them, for that matter. James has always been a sweet boy, but he used to think that he was superior to the others. Not now, though.

“That was way too long ago, though. We were kids” Sirius whispers defeatedly, he knows that’s not an excuse.

“I was terrible” James says and a sob catches in his throat. Your heart almost breaks and then you understand what Sirius meant when he said that James crying made his own heart break. “I regret that, I don’t want to ever do that again.”

You pout, inching your hand closer to his as you slowly caress it, your eyes moving from him to your boyfriend. “It’s been age, Jamie” Sirius speaks softly, “you have changed, that’s not you anymore. Sure, you cannot erase your past, but you cannot let it define you either. That’s. not. you.”

James looks up at him with hope, and Sirius grins widely. “Look at you, you are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. So pretty as well” Sirius’ tatted hand cups James’ soft, pale cheek and the younger boy melts against his skin. “Yeah?” he breathes, batting his eyelashes at Sirius, who nods proudly.

But when Sirius notices that James’ hand is moving up his thigh, he removes his hand from his hand from his cheek and stands up, walking towards a smaller chest of drawers, where you keep his clean clothes for when he comes over.

James’ breath hitches and tears start pooling at his eyes. He tries to be quiet, but you are still beside him and hear it. “What is it, sweet boy?” you ask, frowning.

He just shakes his head, burying his face into your soft pillow. “M sorry” he sobs, his tears most definitely soaking your pillow.

“Sorry?” you ask and he hums, still not looking at you. “Tried to touch Siri” he admits, “you have.. you’ve just been so good to me, I-”

“Oh, love, I’m not upset with you. I mean, who wouldn’t want to touch Siri?” you joke and he giggles softly, lifting his head from the pillow.

“Okay I’m back and I got you my shirt and this pair of boxers, I hope they fit you- Hey, why are you crying?”

─

next part will probably be just a little bit of fluff and smut, but i thought i’d share this little thought with you guys. i will write the other fic ideas soon, please bear with me <3.

[thewickedjazzy]

Special week: Blurred Lines for Kinktober.

♡featuring: jjk & bsd x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩PHASE 1: geto & chuuya x reader

♡synopsis: being a movie star in the jjk world has its perks and pitfalls, especially when you find yourself face-to-face with four swoon-worthy men. to make things even more complicated, you end up sandwiched between chuuya and geto in one night.

♡warnings: ņsfw, mdņi 18+, established plot, smųt with plot, characters are aged up or in their 20s, threesome, double penetration, cum mentioned, double cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, degradation 'slut' ... not proofreaded, ig that's it?

♡word count & a/n: 5.2k, a special thank you & a smooch to @remlionheart for helping my ass write this and feeding my brain with her sweet ideas. it was so amusing and fun to write that i couldn't stop giggling. this fic is dedicated to my bbg @bittysuguro

[check the jjk & bsd special week masterlist]

“what do you mean my card got declined?!” a furious voice echoes across the pristine, high-end louis vuitton boutique.

you pause mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. the boutique is one of the most luxurious on omotesando street, and you haven't expected any kind of outburst here, of all places and you can’t help but arch an eyebrow, pondering if he's trying to pay with monopoly money or if his bank account has suddenly taken a nosedive.

the subject of the chaos stands by the counter, fuming—he’s a redheaded man in a black designer coat with a flat cap pulled low over his striking blue eyes. he looks like he just walked out of a fashion editorial, except for the part where he is practically roaring at the terrified cashier and waving a gold card like a weapon.

you find yourself blinking once again—what in the world is going on?

“sir, i ran it three times, and each time—” the cashier stammers, flinching as the redhead leans over the counter like he is about to blow the place up.

“i know there’s money on it! RUN IT AGAIN!” he growls, and you swear you can see veins popping in his neck.

before the poor cashier can even protest further, another man saunters into view, tall, lean, and wearing the most obnoxiously casual yet designer outfit. white hair peeks out from under a pair of dark sunglasses, and despite the clear chaos, he is wearing the cockiest grin you’d ever seen.

“tsk..no need to get so worked up,” the white-haired man drawled, arms laden with five louis vuitton bags. “your poor is showing.”

the redhead whirls on him, eyes blazing. “what did you just say, you asshole?”

the taller man stands there unfazed with his shit grin spreading wider. “you heard me, short stack.”

the redhead’s whole body stiffens, and you half expect him to launch himself across the store. you are only a few paces away, casually browsing the new bags collection, but now you find yourself watching the scene unfold like a deer caught in headlights.

“oh, please,” the white-haired man replies with a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “you sure you wanna do this, kid?”

at that moment, the shorter guy’s feet literally lift off the ground as he floats up toward the white-haired man, arm cocking back for a punch. it's like some weird gravity-defying stunt, and you can't help but stare, unsure whether you are hallucinating or if this is a really elaborate prank. you half-expect someone to jump out and yell, “surprise! you’re on candid camera!” while someone else films your bewildered expression.

the punch swings forward but… stops. midair.

“what the—” the redhead sputters, his fist hovering a mere inch from the smug man’s face, like an invisible barrier is blocking it.

“oh,” the taller man snickers, “you actually tried.”

just as things are about to get out of hand, a third man appeared—a taller figure with dark hair tied back wearing a serene expression as if he just strolled in from a yoga session. he places a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, gently pulling him back to the ground.

“hey man, let’s not destroy the boutique today, alright?” he says, tone weary yet unbelievably calm, like he is used to this kind of chaos. his gaze shifts to the white-haired man whilst rolling his eyes. “saturo, stop antagonizing everyone you meet. people are staring.”

the redhead grumbles something under his breath, glaring daggers at the taller man—saturo?—who simply chuckles back at him.

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the fiery-haired man still glaring at gojo, like he’d just stolen his lunch money—suddenly turns his gaze toward you as if he can feel your eyes boring into him. “what are you staring at?”

he takes a step toward you, and you feel your body tense up like a live wire. you can't help but blink back at him, because honestly, what are you supposed to say? "oh sorry, just trying to figure out why a five-foot ball of rage is levitating in a louis vuitton boutique?"

before you can formulate any semblance of a response, a smooth voice cuts in, dripping with nonchalance, “now, now, chuuya, no need to take your frustration out on innocent bystanders.”

the ginger-haired man—chuuya, you think you heard—glare flickers with surprise as a tall man with messy brown hair sidles up next to him, his brown trench coat swaying with his lazy steps. you barely register him before he sweeps his hand out, pushing chuuya aside like a piece of furniture. “pardon my associate’s behavior. he’s always a little testy when his card gets declined.”

you blink. “huh…?”

the brown-haired man gives you a dazzling smile, the kind that should come with a warning label. “ahh but you…” he trails off, letting his dark eyes roam over your figure with a look of pure delight. “such a wonderful sight. how can such a radiant beauty even exist in this world?” his voice dips, smooth and syrupy, and you can practically hear the faint sound of violins playing in the background.

chuuya’s eye twitches as he scowls at dazai. “are you seriously doing this right now?”

dazai ignores him entirely, stepping closer to you. “osamu dazai, by the way. and you must be the goddess gracing us with your presence today. It’s an honor to bask in your light.” he flashes you a grin, the kind that looks practiced but somehow genuine, and you’re not sure if you should be flattered or call security.

“i—uh—” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the situation.

before you can utter another word out, the white-haired man—saturo, you assume, based on the way the other man addressed him—suddenly whips around, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough to reveal his gorgeous icy blue eyes, narrowing his gaze on you.

his entire demeanour shifts in an instant, going from casual smugness to absolute starstruck fanboy in 0.5 seconds. “wait… wait a damn minute—” his eyes widen, and he practically leaps forward, shoving dazai to the side like an afterthought. “you… you’re—no way, it's you! you’re my favourite movie star!”

dazai, now comically stumbling from the shove, frowns, “hey, i was talking first!”

saturo doesn’t even hear him, his attention laser-focused on you as he runs a hand through his white hair, grinning like an excited puppy. “holy shit, i’ve seen all your movies! you’re incredible! i mean, not just pretty—you’re talented too! that last film? chef’s kiss. truly. pure brilliance.”

you stare at him flabbergasted by the sudden barrage of praise. “uh… thanks?”

saturo claps his hands together and then turns to dazai with a smug smirk. “sorry, what were you saying? something about basking in her light?”

dazai, ever the smooth operator, recovers quickly, “wait a minute…” he muses, leaning slightly closer to saturo, “you know, your voice is kind of… nice.” he cocks his head as if discovering a new piece of an intriguing puzzle. “almost like i’ve heard it somewhere before… perhaps in a mirror?”

saturo's eyebrows shoot up, a look of surprise briefly crossing his face before his smug grin returns again. “well, well, aren’t you observant?” he says, hands casually stuffed into his pockets as he looks dazai up and down. “i guess i should compliment your taste then—great minds and great voices think alike.” he chuckles, and you can almost feel the mutual smugness radiating off the two men.

chuuya, who has been silently simmering through the whole exchange, finally explodes. “are ya both fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls, fists clenching at both his sides. “first, i’ve gotta deal with him”—he jabs a finger toward dazai—“and now this jackass too?” his foot taps impatiently on the boutique's polished floor, like he's ready to fight both of them.

“chuuya tsk.. tsk you're just upset because your little card got declined.” he shakes his head chuckling, “i didn’t know the economy would reject you specifically. but you know, you could always start a gofundme or maybe, uh i don’t know, pawn that fancy hat of yours?” he smirks playfully. “i hear they pay well for vintage."

saturo chuckles, clearly enjoying their little banter chaos. “hey, i like this guy! he’s got jokes.” he leans over toward dazai. “you sure we didn’t cross paths before?” then, turning his attention back to you with a teasing glint, he adds, “don’t worry, sweetheart—i’m still your best bet if you’re looking for a hero.” his eyes glimmer with flirtatious arrogance, as if he’s already planned your honeymoon by now.

chuuya throws his hands up in exasperation, shooting dazai an accusatory glare. “this isn’t funny, dazai! how the hell are we even supposed to survive in this weird-ass world when my damn card doesn’t work? not to mention that this is your fault for bringing us to this ridiculous place!”

the bandaged man sighs briefly, slipping into a serious look, “you're right. but I guess it's time to become a street performer. i mean, with your size, you’d make an adorable little tap dancer. might even make some decent pocket change.”

“you son of a—”

“enough!” the hot black-haired guy, who had been silently observing, steps forward, placing a firm hand on chuuya’s shoulder again. “we’re in public. can we try to act like civilized people for five minutes?”

chuuya grumbles, his fists still clenched, but the black-haired guy’s firm grip on his shoulder seems to anchor him enough to stop an all-out brawl. he glares between the two idiots in front of him—dazai still grinning like a smug bastard and saturo, who looks like he’s already planning his next punchline.

saturo straightens, his grin shifting slightly. “ugh suguru..don’t be such a killjoy.” he gestures lazily at dazai, “i was just making a new friend.”

chuuya scoffs. “friends? yeah, right. who the hell are you guys anyway?”

“just… tell them your name already. this isn’t a fight club.” suguru rolls his eyes.

saturo shrugs, turning his attention back to you and flashing that million-watt grin. “well, since suguru insists.” he dramatically puts a hand to his chest as if introducing himself for the first time. “i’m gojo satoru. the strongest sorcerer and uh apparently,”—he glances at dazai with a smirk—“your newest competitor for this sweetheart's attention.”

you sigh, clearly having enough of this shitty situation that feels like the setup for a sitcom episode. the ginger looks more frustrated by the minute, and the sight of him glaring daggers at the so-called companions makes you feel slightly bad for him.

“alright, chuuya,” you say, pulling him toward the cashier, ignoring the stunned look on his face. you feel suguru follow, maintaining a calming presence beside you. the cashier looks just as frazzled as chuuya, but you’re determined to end this nightmare once and for all.

“wait, what are you doing?” chuuya protests, glancing back at you with wide eyes. “you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, really. it happens all the time,” you insist, shooting him a reassuring smile as you pull out your own card. “this is on me. plus you can pay me back in another way, though.”

dazai, overhearing this, perks up like a dog hearing a treat bag crinkle. he sidles over with that ever-present smirk on his face, leaning closer to you. “oh, you accept other ways? you naughty naughtyyy tsk!”

you roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm slightly, and ignore him completely. instead, you focus on the cashier, who looks thoroughly confused but also relieved to see the drama coming to a close. “just run this through, please.”

chuuya crosses his arms, clearly still disgruntled but unable to resist the tide of your determination. suguru shoots him a look that seems to say, “just go with it,” and chuuya huffs, lips pressing into a thin line.

as the cashier processes the transaction, you turn back to huuya. “it's fine, I really get it—everyone has rough days. uh how about you let me help you out a bit? i actually have a project coming up that could use two male leads.”

“it’s a vampire movie,” you explain with a grin spreading across your face as you watch chuuya’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “and honestly, you two fit the aesthetic perfectly. everyone i’ve auditioned so far has been terrible. i could really use your looks and… personalities,” you point toward the redhead and the hot black-haired man.

chuuya raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his features. “a vampire movie? seriously?”

“actually, I think you’d be perfect for the role. your features and that hair of yours are perfect for it.” suguro chuckles, nudging chuuya slightly.

you watch as chuuya’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. for the first time, he chuckles, rolling his eyes at suguro. “you wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve had to dress up like one just to save that idiot dazai’s neck.”

suguro chuckles back, shaking his head. “guess it’s time to redeem yourself.”

chuuya huffs but a small smile betrays him. “fine, i’ll consider it. but only if you promise i don’t have to wear any ridiculous costumes.”

“i can’t make any promises,” you say with a teasing grin.

suguro smiles, leaning against the counter. “i’ll accept the offer, too.”

you beam, feeling a wave of relief wash over you finally. “great! i’ll send you both the details later.”

“ugh, why is this so hard?” you can’t help but chuckle at his struggle, it’s not like you're defusing a bomb here—just rehearsing a kiss for a scene.

“chuuya, it’s just a kiss. how hard can it be?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, watching him pace back and forth through the rehearsal room like a caged tiger.

“just a kiss? have you seen your face?” he gestures wildly, and you swear you can see steam rising from his ears. “you make it look way too easy!”

you giggle glancing up as you hear a faint creak from the door only to see geto strolling in and casually leaning against the door frame. you can tell that he just got out of the shower as he holds a towel drying his luxurious black hair. you part your lips trying to take a deep breath as you see his damp hair clinging to his neck in a way that’s... well, distracting, and you're not above admitting that. but as he shakes the water from his hair, your mind drifts back—against your will, mind you—to that moment from a week ago.

technically, it was a regular day. nothing special. just you trying on a costume in one of those annoyingly small fitting rooms. and of course, it had to be the tightest, most ill-fitting costume known to mankind. the zipper might as well have been laughing at your misery as you wrestled with it, stuck halfway like it had a personal problem against you.

after what felt like an hour of struggle, you finally managed to peel the outfit off your body like some weird victory over fabric. and that’s when geto decided to make his grand entrance.

“oh, uh... wrong room,” he said and in that split second, you swore your heart had leaped out of your chest, seeing his eyes go wide, flicking down clearly taking in the delicate lace set you had on and oh, the way he stares makes your cheeks flush hotter than the sun on a july afternoon.

you are friends. just friends. well, maybe more than friends. the three of you are getting along—maybe a little too perfectly, if you are being honest. it is in the small things like how geto always have a lighter handy for you and chuuya, even though he doesn't smoke. you have no idea why, but somehow he’d always flick it open when you reach for a cigarette. that, combined with the lingering glances and casual touches that seems far too intimate to be strictly platonic, says something about where things are heading.

chuuya, on the other hand, is... well, he is oblivious. not that you mind it. he is just so focused on the roles you are rehearsing together that he hasn't picked up on the fact that you’ve been flirting with him for a while now. hell, geto had caught on, but chuuya? the poor guy needs it spelled out. you are going to have to make your moves more obvious—or, in chuuya’s case, maybe drastic.

and if you think back to certain moments—like that night when chuuya got himself absolutely plastered. that redhead brat went from zero to blackout drunk in record time, and of course, it fell on you to drag his sorry ass home. you just couldn't see him stumbling out of a bar, half-laughing, half-cursing, completely out of it and do nothing. to be fair, this all came after his impulsive bank robbery—yeah, you heard that right. a bank robbery. apparently, after the whole boutique incident, chuuya decided he was tired of being broke.

so there you were, guiding this drunken menace through the streets, and contemplating how you could spring him from the charges he was facing. he was barely coherent, mumbling something about the "best wine ever" and how the stars were "calling his name." romantic, right? wrong.

by the time you finally got him inside, chuuya, in all his sottish wisdom, decided clothes were optional. without a word—no hesitation, no second thoughts—he started stripping. pants off, dress shirt shirt flung across the room, and he was about to lose the rest when you jumped in.

“whoa, okay, let’s maybe not do that right now?” you managed to say, trying your best to avert your gaze but also wondering why the hell the universe had put you in this situation. because, let’s be honest, as much as you didn't want to stop him... you really, really should.

and you did stop him, somehow managing to wrestle him back into some kind of decency before he could make things even more harder for you. needless to say, he was so out of it, that he passed out immediately after—half clothed, thank god.

and you thank heavens that he doesn't remember a damn thing the next morning about his one-man strip show.

you blink as the sound of geto’s teasing voice yanking you from your thoughts.

“what’s going on in here? i could hear chuuya’s desperation from down the hall.”

chuuya glares at him. “shut it, geto. we’re just—”

“rehearsing a kiss,” you finish, unable to resist the urge to jump in.

“exactly,” chuuya huffs, crossing his arms defensively and pouting—god he's so adorable. “just a stupid kiss.”

geto smiles softly and steps further into the rehearsal room, “well, it can’t be that bad. show me what you’ve got.”

chuuya rolls his eyes, obviously being tested by geto’s teasing and you can see him mentally gearing up, “alright, but don’t laugh if I mess it up.”

you try to flash him an encouraging smile to ease him a little bit. “just breathe. it’s literally just a kiss.”

he nods stepping closer, you notice his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. he gets within a breath’s distance and suddenly seems frozen, his confidence evaporating as he stumbles over his own thoughts. “uh... so...”

you can't help but chuckle softly, leaning in a little closer to coax him. “come on, chuuya. just focus on my lips. you can do this.”

geto—who had been watching from the side with a knowing smile—decided to step in. “you know, it might help to ease the tension. let me give you a few pointers.

chuuya blinked, caught off guard but quickly nodded. “yeah, sure. anything to make it look… believable.”

without uttering a response, he strides over and gently cupping your sweet pink cheeks, leaning in to press his soft lips against yours, and oh god, it’s perfect. the world fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you and the warmth of his lips. you let out a soft gasp as he slips his tongue between your puffy lips, tilting his head for better acess making your heart race as your mind wonders if you’ve just been seduced in a rehearsal. honestly you’re taken aback by how natural it feels, how perfectly his lips fit against yours.

geto loses himself completely in the kiss, his fingers brushing through your hair as if he’s trying to pull you closer, as the kiss deepens a low hum escapes his wet lips. you feel a rush of pleasure floods through your entire body, and just when you think it can’t get better, he pulls away, slightly breathless and blinking as he locks gaze with your lips for a bit before averting his gaze to chuuya.

well as for chuuya, the ginger stands there, wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted as if he hasn’t fully processed what just happened. “uh… was the tongue really necessary?” he stammers, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of crimson.

geto chuckles, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “now you try.”

chuuya blinks again, still looking all flustered but still wants to get it right. he turns to you, hand sliding to your waist in a way that is awkward but endearing.

“fine… i got this.” his voice is hushed as his take your lower lip between his pink ones, trying to mimic what geto had done. it was just a kiss—chaste, careful, like he was still holding back. but then something clicked within you, the ginger's eyes snaps open before growling into your mouth as you slip your tongue into into his before twirling the two pink muscles together. you glide your delicate fingers through his messy strands, pulling him closer for a few seconds before he pulls back, breathing heavily.

“okay, that was… not acting right?” he says, his brows furrowing as he tries to catch his breath. “is that how it’s supposed to feel?”

geto sighs loudly, shaking his head in exasperation. “chuuya, how didn’t you notice? it’s been going on for a few months already. didn’t you realise it? because if you really want us to… you know...”

“ugh, thank you!!! finally someone who can read my hints,” you exclaim, shooting geto a grateful look.

chuuya blinks a few times, his brows knitting together as he processes what’s just been said. “wait, hold on,” he splutter, looking back and forth between you and geto. “are you both... serious?”

“god, i’m such an idiot. i thought we were just—” he pauses

“just friends?” you finish for him, giving him a playful nudge. “come on, chuuya. i thought i was dropping some pretty big hints.”

the redhead runs a hand through his messy hair, looking both at you and geto. “ so..uh..you really want us to fuck you?” he mutters, lips forming into a slow grin.. “like...both of us?”

“uh, yeah?” you say, biting your lip to suppress a smile watching chuuya and geto exchange glances more like a silent understanding seems to pass between them, and before you know it, geto strides over and lifts you off the ground effortlessly.

“wait, wait, wait!” you squeal, laughter bubbling up as you squirm in his grip. “what are you doing?”

“just a little detour to somewhere more private.” he says, glancing back at chuuya, who raises his eyebrows with a sick lustful grin plastered on his face.

“seriously, you guys, i can walk!” you protest, but the thrill of being swept off your feet makes it hard to sound convincing.

“good, ‘cause we'll make sure you won’t be walking straight for days.” chuuya says as he opens the trailer door, stepping inside with geto following suit.

the sound of a zipper being pulled down is the last thing you hear before you’re instantly pressed between the two men, their eager hands working quickly to strip you bare. the fabric falls away easily revealing more of your skin to their hungry eyes.

“damn,” chuuya breathes seeing your skin pebble once they hit the cold air. “you’re even prettier than i imagined.”

your eyes flutter shut as your head falls back on geto's shoulder and you relax for just a second before you feel chuuya's mouth encircled your nipple, his jot tongue swirling around your areola tasting your sweet skin as he groans softly against it.

“hngh—chuuya…” you whimper fingers tightening in his messy hair.

he releases your nipple with a slick pop, then brings his large palms to knead your pillowy breasts. as geto lifts you slightly, guiding your hips down to press against his hard cock. you open your eyes to glance down, breath hitching at the sight of him resting between your slick folds. you can't help but let out a soft gasp seeing how massive he is, tip coated with pre-cum and veins popping and soaked by your essence. you let out a soft moan as he peppers your neck with hot, wet kisses, goosebumps rise across the plains of your skin.

chuuya leans down easing you into geto's embrace and spreading your plushy thighs wider.

“look at her pussy—fuck s’pretty..” chuuya drawls as he spits on your swollen clit drawing lazy cut shapes on it, the warm fluid drooling between your puffy folds.

he then plunges his spit-slicked fingers past the swell of your plump lips, coaxing you to get even wetter for them as geto's large, gritty hands grip your ass, pulling you back and forth on his throbbing, leaky, fat cock.

“such a good slut, sucking my fingers so well,” your cunt clenches eagerly sucking on chuuya's long fingers, once he's truly satisfied, he pulls out of your cunt before smearing your juices all across your folds.

geto grips his cock in his palm, the leaky tip smearing your juices as he positions himself between your chubby cheeks. you never tried anal before and you never expected yourself to gasp that loud feeling the rush of spit pools against the pad of your tongue from him stretching your hole so perfectly. you cry out in surprise before chuuya swiftly plunges his tongue into your mouth swallowing your lewd noises.

“ffuck, i’ve been waiting for this, babe.” you hear geto's soft moans against the shell of your ear from behind, “... thinking of you in those lacy little things... mngh, you have no idea how many nights i couldn’t sleep, wanting to feel you... s’warm and tight around me.” he grips your juicy ass cheeks tighter, thrusting you down against him, as if he can’t wait any longer.

“ready for me doll?” chuuya breathes against your lips.

“yes ahh please chuu—mngh” you try to respond, but your words dissolve into a moan as you feel him slowly push inside your heated core. you had expected him to be gentle—just not this gentle. he languidly slides deeper and deeper, his head dropping forward to rest against your soft breasts, growling as he buries himself inside you.

you dig your nails into chuuya’s shoulders, forming delicate marks on his pale skin as you use him for leverage to push yourself back onto geto's cock. each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, making you shudder as chuuya fills you completely.

“god, you feel s’ fuckin’ good, doll,”

your moans get higher and higher mingling with their grunts and growling, chuuya finds himself thrusting faster than usual, his cock is pulsing from watching you nastily taking him and his friend's cock so perfectly.

“y-you okay doll?” chuuya breathes, his voice laced with awe as he watches your eyes roll back into your skull.

“ffuhmk—yes please more,” you cry feeling geto's pace starting to match chuuya's fast and hard ones, your body tenses up, pleasured from all angles, both with their girthy huge cocks filling you up to the brim, your vision blurs seeing through haze chuuya's eyes roll back, his fiery strands sticking to his face and neck, red hue blossoming under his skin and rapidly spreading to his chest.

“jesus f-fucking christ, you're so hot.” geto breathes against your skin tilting your head so that he can bite down your bottom lip gently before drawing circles with your tongues making the pair of you an even greater mess, both his hands reach up to cup your pillowy breasts squeezing them as they jiggle between the palm of his hands, “mmngh—sugu~ahh” the two of you moaning in unison.

before you can catch your breath, chuuya grabs your cheeks with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity in a sloppy kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth as his fingers roughly toy with your clit, drawing sharp, almost painful pleasure from the sensitive nub. “you gonna cum for us, mngh? gonna be a good slut and cum?” he growls, cupid's bows wet from your searing kisses as his fingers cut circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

the world around you blurs as you're finally pushed over the edge with the repeated brush of their cocks against your spongy spots—a blinding white light floods your vision, static crackling in your ears. chuuya watches in awe, like he's witnessing a miracle, as you cum, your body convulsing with pleasure. at the same time, geto spills inside you, his warm release filling your womb to the brim. the intensity makes you feel like you might pass out, a scream ripping from your throat as the knot in your lower belly unravels with chuuya's twitching cock inside you as he too rocks inside you multiple times riding out his sweet release with force that makes your body shake as he paints your walls with his hot shooting cum filling you up perfectly. you three reach your peak together, perfectly in sync.

the world gradually comes back into focus, as you three try to calm down from your release. geto is the first to pull out, and as he does, you feel his cum slowly drip from your body. chuuya follows, watching in awe your ruined holes leaking with their seeds as your legs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure.

chuuya chuckles breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, and gently rubs a hand over your thigh. “i’ll get the bath ready for ya doll,” he murmurs, voice still rough from the intensity of his orgasm, before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

you nod, watching his bare form head to the bathroom as geto leans in close, pressing gentle, reassuring kisses to your lips while his strong hands tenderly massage your trembling legs. “relax, baby” he whispers between kisses, his lips still deliciously sloppy, “you did so well. let me take care of you.” he strokes your skin soothingly, bringing you down from the high as you try to catch your breath.

you give geto a tired but grateful smile, your chest still heaving, “t-thank you, sugu,” you murmur softly, watching his lips curl into a satisfied grin, and he continues to massage your legs, his fingers easing away the lingering tension.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @whiteelovex @dottedhalfnotes @victoria1676 @ghostedwriting @a-trashbag @bakedpotato12 @ambervanth @sakui1 @iams0up @osamucide @lighthoonie @chuuyascumsock

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Bachira Meguru assuming he's unlovable.

Being called a monster for their whole childhood really makes a mark on a person's life and self-esteem. But for Bachira, they were unavoidable.

At first, he tried to ignore the mean comments and pretend he didn't hear them. Maybe that would make the loneliness go away. Maybe it would make the problems disappear.

"He's a freak!"

"Eww, don't get too close to Bachira! You'll get lice!!"

"He's stinky"

He heard the whispers. He just used to pretend he didn't. For both his and the children's sake. So he could pretend he was normal. At least for a while.

And, sometimes, even parents, grown-ass adults, called him weird. Shouldn't they set an example for their kids? They tell them: "Don't judge other people! You never know what they're going through!", but are always the first to talk shit about someone, even if said someone is a little kid.

"Poor kid. It's probably the parents fault."

"He says sees a 'monster'! He's probably schizophrenic."

"My son is afraid of him. Specially when he's playing soccer. He said he's very scary"

He tried to ignore them. He really did. He tried to smile through it all and treat people the same way he always had nevertheless: with respect. Because crying would make his problems real. He didn't want them to be real. And he was doing a good job at it! But one faithful day, he snapped. The final nail in the coffin.

"When I grow up, I want to be a football player, just like Zico!" 11 year old Bachira said, showing the whole class a drawing of him, Zico and his monster playing soccer together. His smile was as bright and blinding as ever, specially because he was talking about his passion: soccer. He loved it so much. It helped him escape the harsh reality for a while.

The class went silent. They used to think Bachira was weird, to put it slightly, but this? It just made him even more weird! They all knew that he could never be a football player. He was an outcast. A freak. He was a monster. And monsters couldn't live with humans. Nobody wanted a monster on their team.

And so, instead of clapping like they did with the other kids' drawings, the class started to laugh. It started out quiet, but later it turned into a full, loud laugh. All of them. And Bachira always dreamed of making everyone there laugh, but not like this. They weren't laughing with him or because of him, they were laughing at him.

"Uh? What's happening, miss?" He asked the teacher, confused and on the verge of crying. He couldn't cry here. Not in front of them, please. That would be another thing for them to laugh at.

He swears on his life that he heard the teacher laugh a little, before the adult crouched down to match his size, grabbed his drawing and put it on his desk, while the other kids' drawings were being stuck to the board with tape. And then, he heard one of the worst sentences he ever heard in his life. One that he knew would definitely keep him awake at night:

"Meguru, being a football player is too hard for you. Why don't you settle for something more real and reachable? Like a doctor or a lawyer?"

He didn't understand. Some kids here wanted to be astronauts, others wanted to be models. Hell, one wanted to be a dinosaur babysitter. And their drawings were hanging on the wall, like they were going to be achieved. Bachira felt like no one believed in him. Like he was being put aside.

He then realized the problem wasn't what he wanted to do. It was him. Anyone could be a football player, but he couldn't. Because he was a monster. He was different from others.

And so, the tears began to fall. One by one, first from his left away and then from his right eye. His vision began to blurry. Left eye, right eye. Left, right, left right. Kids laughing, teacher laughing. His drawing on the desk. Left, right. Left right. He couldn't even see his own hands anymore from how blurred his vision was. He looked to his side. Left, right. The door. His escape. He needed to leave.

So, without second thought, Bachira ran towards the door. He couldn't care less for the teacher calling his name. He wouldn't come looking for him anyway. Nobody would. Nobody cared enough to do it.

He sat behind a tree, protected by it's shadow. He continued to cry. Hard. He put his hands in his eyes to try and stop the tears from falling, but he couldn't. He needed to let it all out. He just wished he had someone by his side during his breakdown. He really wanted a shoulder to rely on.

"Hey"

Maybe he was, indeed, schizophrenic. Because, the moment he looked up, he saw a girl he swore was too pretty to be real. The sunset made her have an angelic glow, and the wind made her hair flow just the right way. Her face was like a greek statuate, and he swore he could hear a soothing symphony playing in the background when he met her eyes: they were the most beautiful color he had ever seen, and he could imagine himself being lost and found in them. She was just too pretty. Too pretty to be here for him. And so, he managed to stop crying for a while and said, between sniffs:

"Did you lose a bet?"

The way your face contorted was almost comic.

"What?"

"Did someone pay you to come here? Where are the cameras? And how much was it?"

"I didn't lose any bet" you said, frowning. "I came here to check on you because I wanted to. I don't get why everyone laughed at you. Your dream is not stupid. Nobody's dream is."

"Even Richard's? He said he wants to be a dinossaur nanny" he said before he even thought about it. He then widened his eyes, because what if you were Richard's friend? What if you hated him now because he said something bad about your friend? What if he already screwed everything up? What if...

"Okay, you win. That one's actually stupid." You laughed. He made you laugh. This time, someone was laughing because of him. He felt like he was capable of everything at that moment. Your laugh was a sweet, infecting, honey-like melody. It made him wanna laugh too. He didn't realize it, but he had already stopped crying, and was now just staring at you with big, blown and unwavering eyes. His mouth slightly parted, like he was studying you and comitting everything about you to memory. Almost as if you were indeed an ilusion, and would disappear the second he blinked. He couldn't believe you were real. You were real, and you were talking to him.

After a while, you stopped laughing and finally noticed his intense staring. Suddenly bashful, your cheeks turned a bright red.

"I-I just want you to know that you shouldn't be ashamed of your dream. I think- no, I'm sure you can achieve it. You just have to work hard for it. I-I've seen you playing sometimes, and it's honestly amazing how focused you are. Bachira, I want to be your friend. That's it, if you'll let me-"

He hugged you. Hard. If it was any other time, he would have been afraid of scaring you off with the sudden hug, but he couldn't care less right now. He needed this. He needed a friend. You were just what he needed. You were perfect.

He started to cry again. This time, the first tear came out of his right eye. Right, left. His vision was getting blurred from how hard he was smiling. Right, left. Right, left. Your arms hugging him back. Right, left. The sound of the school bell, signalizing the end of the school day. People would see you and him hugging and you would probably be called weird by them for being next to him, but you still didn't break the hug. Right, left.

He didn't want to escape like he did during the class incident. No. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted time to stop, to be in your arms for eternity. He didn't want to pull away. He finally made a friend. You were his first friend.

Bachira Meguru used to think he was unlovable, but you proved him wrong. You proved he could, in fact, be loved. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a freak. He was Bachira Meguru. Your best friend. And he wore that title with pride. Later on, he had the honour to be called your boyfriend, and he was even prouder of that one.

He used to think he would never find happiness. That's why, the moment the ref blew the whistle signalizing the end of Japan U-20 against Blue Lock eleven match and securing Blue Lock's victory, he couldn't think of anything else besides his girl. He ran across the field to you. Because you were like a magnet. He couldn't be apart from you, or else it felt like the whole earth would explode. He was yours and you were his. You both were meant to be.

"You did it! I love you, Meguru!"

He laughed. A pretty, genuine laugh followed by a couple of tears, beginning from his right eye, of course. His mother was recording behind you both, the blue lock team was smirking and whistling at the sight of you two and the television was streaming the moment for the whole world to see. But neither of you cared about the extra eyes. You were the only ones on the world. You always made him feel like that, and he hopes he makes you feel that way, too.

"I love you so much. Thank you."

Thank you for being with me. Thank you for being there. Thank you for not leaving me. Thank you for accepting the title of being my girlfriend proudly. Thank you for being you. Thank you for everything. Thank you.

He then lifted you and spun you in the air, smiling hard. He brought your lips closer and then kissed you. A kiss full of emotion and love. So much love: raw and pure.

You proved he wasn't just lovable. He was also capable of loving. And there's nothing prettier than loving someone.

Bachira Meguru was lovable, and you made sure to show him that. You loved him, and he would do everything to keep it that way forever.

~A/N: there's a "saying" that says that if you're crying and the first tear is from the left eye, you're crying from sadness. If the first tear comes out of the right eye, they're happy tears!!

Masterlist

[casuallyanidiot]

can you please do a surgeon reader with pathetic rich yandere? please and thank you for making so many good fics!

Thanks for the support!

Ooooh a needy, clingy, Yandere patient.... I like your thinking anon.

Tw. For self harm mention

Yandere patient grew up as a rich, spoiled kid with plenty of daddy's money and not enough spine. He's never had someone care about him if it wasn't for his money, even his parents don't really seem to love him beyond the basic obligations of making sure he wasn't dead or feral. His friends are all assholes who are also rich, university students that only seem to like him when he's drinking past the point of passing out, or when he buys them fancy dinners and meals as gifts. He knows that they are just leeches, but he doesn't have anyone else.

Yandere patient who gets pressured into doing a stupid stunt. He was drunk at the time, so he doesn't really remember much about what exactly he did, but he knew what happened afterwards: Broken legs, a spinal injury, a shattered wrist, and 15 stitches on his cherub like face.

You're assigned to be his surgeon, as it turns out. You tell him that since his injuries are so severe, he'll need to have multiple surgeries and come in frequently to ensure he's healed.

He understands, though a bit weary and exhausted.

Through the period of time that's he's kept in the hospital, you notice how no one ever comes to visit him. Yandere patient becomes withdrawn and almost a bit despondent, and you knew you needed to do something. He wont recover if his mentality isn't there, after all.

You spend a lot of time comforting him, spending time with him later in the evenings before you go home, and you chat with him for brief periods of the day.

Yandere patient feels the most affection he's ever received while bedridden in your care. He knows that for once, it's not just about money. Yes, this is your job, but he knows for a fact that you pay more attention to him than you would some of your other charges.

Yandere patient decides to move himself into the hospital until he recovers. There's not real point in being locked away in his gloomy yet opulent room, tucked away in some countryside manor. No, he'd rather be here with you so that he may relish in your constant doting. You are a bit hesitant when he tells you the news with such a bright, beaming face. You don't want to hurt the poor man's feelings since he's been through so much already, but you'd rather prefer to see him getting out a bit more and trying his hand at socializing. Still, you don't press him too much on the issue.

Yandere patient who realizes that whenever he makes a bit too much progress, you distance yourself ever so slightly. It gives him pause, and it makes his heart race in a not good way. He can't have you leaving him. Not when he's already begun to rely on you so much.

Yandere patient who messes up his stitches constantly. He looks up at you with big, watery eyes when you find him covered in his own blood. He feigns his clumsiness, but he can't help the pleasurable shudder that runs up his damaged spine whenever you fret over him.

Yandere patient who starts to try to make you move into one of the many family manors he resides in. He'll pay you an extraordinary amount if you'll let him be your only patient. Plus, it's in the countryside! Fresh air, beautiful gardens, privacy: What more could you want?!

He tries so hard to sell you on it, but you don't budge. He pouts like a child for a while afterwards, though soon he's back to his usually smiling self.

He's figured it out. He doesn't have to ask you! A simple multi million dollar bribe to the hospital here, a scheme to blacklist you there, and soon you'll be happy to only have eyes for him!

Yandere Patient is practically beaming when you show up to his estate, bags in hand. The money, the pain, the isolation... all of it was just a small price to pay for you to never leave his side again.