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improbable-outset · 2 months

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📂 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

I don’t think there’s any trigger warnings needed for this. But I just wanna give a heads up that I did not write these in order so there might be some HC that looks rush— I couldn’t elaborate on some, sorry 😢

𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji’s past experiences and personality traits shape how he shows affection. Having lived in America for most of his life, his way of showing love blends both American and Japanese elements

In America, people are generally more direct with their affection, and public displays of affection (PDA) are more socially acceptable, or at least not that frowned upon, including hugging, kissing, and hand-holding. While gift giving is important in American culture, it doesn’t carry the same significance as in Japan (cuteeeee).

In contrast, Japanese culture often values subtle and indirect expressions of affection, with intimate gestures usually kept private. Kenji’s approach combines both culture seamlessly

Kenji might express his love in a mix of direct and indirect ways. His approach to PDA might vary depending on his surroundings. As a star baseball player that’s constantly in the public eye, he might save more intimate gestures for private moments. However, he won’t shy away from holding your hand or giving a quick peck on the cheek

Drawing from Japanese culture, Ken will give gifts as a way of showing his love— and given that this man is loaded, they do tend to be pretty extravagant. He might also embrace more grand gestures typical in American culture

Though he appreciates your thoughtful gestures too. Whether it’s leaving small gifts or notes in his duffle bag before a game or making him breakfast, he cherishes these moments with you

Overall, Kenji is grateful that you love all aspect of him, appreciating the different ways he shows his affection and your understanding and acceptance of his unique blend of cultural influences

📄 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’m glad that there are more people acknowledging the struggles Kenji faced as a Japanese person newly moved to LA. In his first interview with Ami, he stated how he was made fun of for the way he looked and talked, indicating he had a hard time making friends in America. This was a difficult adjustment period for him.

But if you thought that was bad, moving back to Japan presented its own set of challenges. Despite returning to his home country, Ken struggled to fit in with the Japanese crowd. We’ve heard the unwarranted comment from the catcher: “We’re waiting for the Japanese version of this guy,” highlighting his continuing struggle with acceptance.

So it is canon that this man is lonely. Given everything he has been through, you would expect him to have a bitter attitude and be more closed off. However, that’s not the case.

Ken can be sociable when he wants to be. He often masks his internal struggle with his cocky exterior, which might add another difficulty in making friends, but it doesn’t define his character entirely.

Beyond his bravado, Ken has the potential to be a great friend. We’ve seen the way he warms up to Ami later on in the story. He can be fiercely loyal when he wants to be and stand by those he cares about and be there when they need them.

The real question is: will he let you be there for him? How long will it take for him to let you in his psych? This is a complex layer of his character that we’ll explore later on in the alphabet

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Oh, this man definitely needs to be held. At the start of your relationship, Kenji would always be the one holding you close. His arms would wrap around you while you nestled on his chest. He found comfort in the role and didn’t think much about needing to be held himself, until you gently asked him about it

He was reluctant about it at first but eventually he relented, allowing you to hold him close. Feeling your heartbeat near his ear and your arms around him, he quickly grew enamoured and melted into your touch.

It took him a few cuddle sessions for him to adjust to this new dynamic, but once he did, he embraced it fully (all puns intended)

As your relationship deepened, Kenji became more comfortable with initiating cuddle sessions himself. He’s not shy about expressing when he needs to be held

I can see him climbing into bed and nuzzling into your neck, seeking closeness. From being the one who held you, Kenji appreciates the reciprocity of being held by you. Knowing someone cares for him deeply gives him a sense of contentment

📄 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Over time, Kenji’s desire to settle down grows stronger the more he spends time with you. Seeing the stability and fulfilment a settled life can bring, he envisions a secure, private home environment where you both can unwind away from the public eye

Kenji’s cooking skills are basic but heartfelt. He learned to cook out of necessity while living in the America, often preparing meals with his mother as a way of spending quality time together.

He sees cooking together as a way of bonding and creating lasting memories. Despite having an advanced automated delivery system in his home, he often prefers to cook with you, valuing the personal touch. He is open to learning new recipes and techniques, often taking lead in the kitchen

While Kenji prefers to keep his living space organised, he isn’t fond of the labour of cleaning. He relies on his high-tech home and Mina to handle most of the household chores efficiently. He appreciates the comfort and peace that a well-maintained home provides

He utilise the technology in his home to make his life easier, ensuring that everything is kept in order.

📄 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

The way he handles your break up really depends on the situation, but he would always prefer to do it face-to-face for clarity and honesty

If it was you at fault, it might be because he feels like there’s a lack of support from you or because you betrayed his trust.

He may seem resentful on the outside but is shattered on the inside. After you both go your separate ways, you’ll never hear from him again, but you won’t know that he’s holding back from contacting you and forgiving you. However, his pride won’t allow him to.

But if you do something seriously bad, like continuously disrespect him or, worse case-scenario, cheat on him, he’ll be colder towards you. Don’t expect him to give you another chance after that

If he’s the one that’s at fault here, it’ll probably be because he prioritise his career and baseball over your relationship and has unintentionally neglected you. He’ll be upset and pissed off.

He’s not angry at you, but more at himself for not being better. He’s already dealing with his mother’s absence and now he has lost another important person in his life.

But unlike his mothers disappearance, he had control over the situation, and it could’ve been avoided if he changed

In this case, he won’t beg you to stay but rather wish you well for your future and would seek to provide closure

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji take’s commitment seriously, especially given everything he has been through while moving the the US and back to Japan, often feeling lonely. Despite his loneliness, he won’t make a move unless he’s fully committed to building a future together, and ensure that you’re both are emotionally ready for the next step

However his career in being in the spotlight and having eyes on him might impact his decision. He has already mastered separating his personal life concealed from the media, but having a partner might spark some unwanted attention and an uproar of press conferences asking about his love life.

Kenji is acutely aware of the intrusive nature of the media. He wants to protect his partner and any future children from unwanted attention. Kenji will find a way to navigate through the chaos and maintain a balance with his career and his personal life

He’ll openly discuss with you how you could balance his career and future together. This includes talking about the timelines for your marriage so it won’t clash with his professional commitment

He values your input when making decisions and wants to ensure that you’re both are on the same page

📄 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji’s gentleness shines through both in action and his protective nature. We’ve seen the way he cradled and soothed Emi at Tokyo Tower after he accidentally fractured her arm, all while trying to keep himself calm after she got tranquillised by the KDF. Despite his strength as Ultraman and his athletic build, he still takes great care not to cause harm.

His physical gentleness extends to his interactions with you. Whether it’s the tender way he holds you or his carefulness during physical activities, Kenji ensures that his doesn’t go overboard with his strength

However, the same can’t be completely said for his emotional gentleness. While he has a good heart, he struggles to find the right words for reassurance. He tries emulating what his mother would say when she comforted him, hoping it would have the same effect on you as it did to him, even as an adult

He draws from his mother’s influence, replicating her warmth and security she provided, hoping it would bring you the same comfort

📄 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Okay, we’ve seen how Kenji was literally running and jumping around with Emi outside of his cabin, you can’t tell me he doesn’t love hugs. After watching that scene, I can definitely see him sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around in his embrace during a moment of celebration or excitement (maybe when he finally wins a championship or when you accept his marriage proposal hehe)

His hugs have a grounding effect, making you feel safe in his arms. Given his athletic build, it’ll be a mixture of firmness and softness. And with his height, his hugs would be a full-body embrace, where you would be completely held

📄 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He’s not shy when it comes to verbally expressing his love to you; however, it was definitely you who said it first before he had the confidence to say it back. As your relationship deepens, he starts to initiate it too and uses other affirmations more freely, especially in private

Phrases like “aishiteru” are used sparingly and are usually reserved for serious committed relationships. He’ll probably use that every once in a while but not always, so he won’t overuse it and it’ll still hold its value

📄 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji doesn’t have a lot of relationship experience. This is the first time he has build an emotional connection with someone (if you don’t count Ami, though I wouldn’t call that a true connection) so if he feels like the relationship is threatened by anyone, it’s only natural for him to feel some jealousy

Not saying that he doesn’t know how to act or handle his emotions— rather, he just doesn’t want to lose you. His relationship with you represents a huge step from his lonesome life, and though he does trust you deeply, there’s still some underlying doubt and insecurities.

Despite his confidence in many areas, when it comes to the matter of heart, he’s still navigating uncharted waters. However, as your relationship strengthens and he becomes more secure with your love, these jealousy moments become less frequent

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

According to the wiki page trivia, Kenji is approximately 6 feet tall (no surprise). So forehead kisses are a given, especially if you are shorter than him. He loves doing it at the most unexpected moments, it’s not too intimate for the public yet still tender.

He adores your kisses too, even if they aren’t as passionate— good luck kisses before his game, before bed, and surprise kisses.

You shared your first kiss at his place, alone together. He appreciated the privacy and having you to himself that night without any watchful eyes. You were the one that held his face and guided him, since he doesn’t do this often, or at least not in this scenario

📄 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Before Emi stumbled upon his life, the thought of having children never really crossed his mind. His initial reluctance and emotional breakdown when he had to take care of Emi shows how unprepared he felt for the role of fatherhood. Despite eventually embracing the role and finding joy in caring for Emi, he still feels a bit iffy about having his own children (biological or adopted)

A human baby is much smaller and more delicate than a kaiju. Human infants are more vulnerable, and this amplifies Ken’s insecurities.

Every new parent will have the typical fear of not being good enough or making mistakes, and I think Ken’s insecurities stem from his past.

Ken’s strained relationship with his father, even though it was eventually resolved, left a lasting impact on him. As a child, he felt abandoned when his father stayed in Japan while he moved to America with his mother.

I feel like the sense of abandonment is a deep-rooted fear he carries into his own potential parenthood. He’s anxious that his double life as a star baseball player and Ultraman might leave his own child to feel the same way he did— confused and abandoned.

However, this might give him determination not to repeat history and ensure his child never feels the same way he did. Furthermore, the thought of his child watching him play, whether through TV or in person, might inspire him to excel in his baseball career.

He hopes that his kid will look up to him with admiration just as Emi did when she watched him practice and supported him

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Unless you’re an early riser, he’s usually up before you, around 5:30-6am. He quietly gets out of bed to avoid disturbing you. His morning starts with either a run or a home workout (That scene of him jump-roping in front of the rising sun will forever be etched in my mind). He probably uses his simulation to replicate the workout scene, just like how he does with the baseball pitch

Once he completes his workout, he showers and changes into his casual clothes. By now, you would definitely be awake. He loves these little moments with you, so he puts effort to make breakfast together instead of relying on Mina to use the automated delivery system— just as he did in the scene when he was trying to feed Emi for the first time

After breakfast, Mina provides his schedule for the day and updates him on any threats, just in case he needs to leave for an unexpected mission. By 8:00 he’ll leave for his baseball training facility

📄 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Every night is not the same when it comes to living with Ultraman. Some nights, Kenji will come home late after another mission, protecting Tokyo. But if he doesn’t need to be out, he’ll be home by 6pm and will greet you with a tired smile

He will take a few minutes to unwind on the couch before he showers and changes to his loungewear. You’re always on your toes, checking for any injuries, and maybe even give him a massage if he needs it

He might rewatch some of his old video with his mom with you and share those special memories. This is significant because you’re one of the important people in his life, and sharing these moments means a lot to him

You’ll have dinner at around 7/8pm, sharing stories about your day. If he did have a good game, be prepared to hear him ramble and boast about it like you didn’t just watch his game on the TV

By 9pm, you both start to wind down, taking it slow and turning off any screens and by 10pm you’ll head to bed, cuddling together

📄 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji won’t open up to you immediately, especially regarding his vulnerabilities about his mother and how he doesn’t fit in. At first he’ll come off with his blasé attitude, brushing off or downplaying sensitive topics to make them seem less significant

But with your efforts, you create a safe space for him to express himself and his fears, something he’s still getting used to. You offer him constant reassurance (and trust me, be patient with him), reminding him that he can lean on you

After several sessions of you healing his wounds from a baseball game or another mission and constantly checking if he’s okay, he slowly warms up to you and grows more comfortable in opening up

You’re gonna make him weak on the knees if you keep on doting him like that and encourage him to take care of himself. He’ll have no choice but to spill everything to you because he knows you won’t think of him differently

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Even before you got together, we’ve all seen how he was with Emi, teaching her baseball and her rehabilitation training after she got injured. He never gave up on her, his patience blooming naturally.

He’s never the type to get easily angry unless you really do something that genuinely pisses him off or constantly doing something that you bothers him

After everything you’ve done for him, it’s only fair that Kenji give you the same level of patience as you do with him. The way you treat him inspired him to be better in your relationship

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Having an AI assistant that helps him keep track of his schedule and special dates makes it easier to remember anniversaries and other important events. But beyond that, Kenji is quite sentimental and has a keen eye for the little details about you.

He keeps momentous from your time together similar to how he treasures videos of his mother. These trinkets might include small souvenirs from places you’ve always wanted to visit

He uses his keep memory to choose thoughtful gifts that show how well he knows you. He might surprise you with something that reminds you of a special day you shared

Overall, Kenji’s attention to detail means he remembers and cherishes little things about you, making you feel truly seen

📄 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One of his favourite memories in your relationship is when you came to watch one of his games live. Although he couldn’t see you in the audience, the thought alone of you being there gave him the boost to perform better. He probably flaunted a little just because he knew you were watching and wanted to impress you

Another memory he loves is when you made him his favourite green tea when he was sick. It sounds mundane, but it felt good having you take care of him and knowing you’d be by his side, even at his lowest. Also you tea-making skills is impeccable

📄 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kanji’s Ultraman duties include protecting the city from any threats. When the baby kaiju egg hatched in his hands, his protective instincts kicked in when the KDF were actively searching for it. He brought it home without thinking about the consequences (fuck around and find out)— so it’s only natural that he’s protective over you too

There are different ways Ken would be protective over you. He would physically shield you by placing himself between you and the threat. I don’t know if he had any special ‘training’ as Ultraman but he is well-versed in combat and because of his athletic physique, he can handle physical threats effectively

He will probably teach you some basic self-defence techniques or emergency protocols, like having Mina track your location, just in case he’s not around

But even with all of this, he still respects your independence and personal space, the last thing he wants is to smother you. He trusts that you can handle situations on your own but always makes it clear that he’s there when you need him. He just wants to make sure you’re safe

📄 𝐓𝐫𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Having never been in a real relationship before, Kenji finds himself making an effort to make every moment special. Because he’s never had a deep connection with anyone like this, he will tend to ensure his partner feels valued and appreciated. Though he will go overboard as his fear of losing you drives him to go above and beyond

For dates and anniversaries, Kenji will plan every detail, from the venue place to the different activities. He booked a rooftop dinner that gave a view of the city for your first anniversary. His gestures can sometimes be grand and extravagant, as he wants to make you happy and create memorable moments

His dedication and efforts partly stems from people-pleasing tendencies that are shaped by his past loneliness and desire for acceptance. There’s a lingering fear of falling short and being left behind because he didn’t do enough which leads to him overextending himself, even if it is with good intentions (poor Ken…)

However, you remind him that he doesn’t need to do all of that to make you happy; you love him for who he is, not for his grand gestures. It’s an added bonus, but not a foundation of your relationship

While Kenji does struggle to maintain a balance of his grand gestures with the simplicity of his affection, his heart will always be in the right place. Your reminder that his love and presence is enough gives him a peace of mind and helps him enjoy your relationship more organically

📄 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

We all know that at the end of the film, Ken sheds some of his arrogance from the beginning, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be completely free from it immediately. Sometimes his cockiness can get in the way, making him seem dismissive.

It’s not that he’s intentionally doing it, but he’s still learning to break away from his habits, especially if it’s harming your relationship. The last thing he wants is to ruin things because of his old character that he’s trying to fix

Just as mentioned earlier, he has never had this kind of connection with anyone, so he’s also new to being emotionally available. He struggles to communicate his feelings openly since he is used to concealing them, especially from the press and the public.

This might lead to misunderstandings and unaddressed issues. But together, you work through it, and slowly, he warms up to it

📄 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

This man has a whole car collection in his crib so he is definitely loaded. You can’t tell me that he doesn’t spend his money on his outfits, looking the best of the best. Kenji is fully aware of his good looks and he knows how to use them to his full advantage

He takes great pride in his appearance, not only because he’s often in the spotlight as a professional baseball player but also as way of expressing himself and his achievements

We’ve seen his outfits when he was in that interview with Ami— the blazer with the necklace. His confidence shines through in every aspect of his appearance, whether through his sharp outfits, that are perfectly coordinated, to his sleek jewelry collection

In your relationship, you appreciate his confidence and the way he takes care of himself. His vanity and fashion sense become a shared joy, with you sometimes helping him pick out outfits and new accessories. It adds to the charm and closeness to your relationship

All in all, Kenji’s vanity is a blend of his confidence and self-expression— it’s a reflection of his personality and journey.

📄 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Although Kenji does value his independence, and even though he sometimes gets lonely, there are elements in your relationship that make him feel complete and fulfilled. Having a human companionship to come to, rather than just an ai assistant (sorry Mina, still love you), means a lot to him

Your presence provides Kenji the emotional support he craves. After a tough day, he knows you’re always there to listen to him. You both celebrate his victories, whether on the field or in his Ultraman duties. Same goes with challenging times, you both lean on each other for support

Your relationship has contributed to personal growth for both of you. Kenji has learned to be more open and expressive with his feelings. You both encourage each other to be the best version of yourselves

📄 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Ken is definitely a foodie. While living in America, he found comfort in food and developed an appreciation for various cuisines. Because he struggled to fit in, he often turned to food as a source of solace.

He particularly loves Hispanic and South Asian food (<<self indulging here, can’t tell me he doesn’t like pani puri) for their rich traditions, even if they differ from the Japanese cuisine

When you’re together, Kenji enjoys replicating these dishes and sharing them with you. They hold a special place in his heart. His love for food isn’t just about the different flavours but the memories they bring

📄 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One thing Kenji can’t stand from his partner is someone who always broadcasts everything about their relationship. He would prefer to keep matters like that private, especially when he has an image to maintain. The only reason he shared his mothers message at the end of the film with Ami was because it was a memory he cherished deeply

Speaking of family, after reconciling with his father, Kenji values his relationship with his family immensely. Having a partner who doesn’t respect or get along with his family would be problematic for him

Finally, one of the most important aspects is his passion for baseball and his duties as Ultraman. A partner who belittles or doesn’t support his career or responsibilities would not work out. Ken needs someone who understands and respects his dedication to both his professional and personal missions

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Okay we all know that it’s canon that Kenji sleeps shirtless :)))) yeah I don’t have to elaborate on that

I feel like he was a heavy sleeper before his Ultraman duties has taken a toll on his sleeping habits, he has to be more alert so he’ll probably become more of a light sleeper

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @clonedrone @f3r4lfr0gg3r @aise-30 @luneariaa @prettygirleli

@trasshy-artist @beabadobeee @doodlenoodleboi @just-me-and-my-world @mitski9328373

@ilovehobi101 @moonjellyfishie @unhingedsillygod @stfuchaase @myrootsgrowdeep

@mitskicain @graham-mckrackers @coinduck @n4muqr

I was surprised to see how many ppl asked to be tagged in this 🥹🥹 hopefully we have the same energy with the nsfw version

#★— ayrus writes #my yoinky sploinky <3 #ultraman rising #ultraman x reader #ultraman ken #ultraman #kenji x reader #ken sato #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x y/n #ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #ken sato x y/n

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myjisung · 2 months

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crushing with bang chan !

content. stray kids bang chan, gn!reader, headcanons — fluff.

warning. none

wordcount. 540

a/n. as requested ♡ here's the continuation of the crushing series! chanie's turn. tell me who you would like to read about next in this series :o)

WOULD HE CRUSH FIRST ?

it's hard to say. bang chan is the type to admire someone from afar and grow fond of them through interactions, quality time and shared memories. sure, physical attraction is needed as a trigger to develop feelings however, a real crush requires far more to him. so yes, he might be crushing first. that is, if you take longer than he does to feel drawn to your everything.

HOW HE WOULD ACT.

on the outside, chan is far from obvious. the social butterfly that he is can pretty much interact with anyone under any kind of circumstances. you would not be able to tell, since he pretty much treats everyone he respects and quite likes in similar ways.

on the inside however, boy is he freaking out. it takes everything in him to not run away and cringe at every single thing he tells or does around you. he is super natural with all of it but, to him, it is like you are onto him. the glances you throw his way and the shy smiles you offer whenever he comes to you make him feel like You Know and it stresses him out.

other than that, when crushing, chan might try to spend time with you one on one. group settings are fine and he is thankful he gets to hang out with you and your shared friends. however, he would much rather get to know you even more, nurturing that crush. despite having so little time, he would do his best to make those "dates" happen.

WOULD HE MAKE THE FIRST MOVE ?

he might. chan is constantly doubting himself and though he is not afraid of rejection, it does not feel good and neither does he want to make you uncomfortable. in other words, beyond being rejected, he would rather keep it all to himself than open up and put you on the spot.

however, as his feelings grow and become more serious, it might start to wear him out. chan is a very busy man and must keep his head in the game at all times. the second his crush on you grows so big it starts to take too much room in both his heart and mind, he might confess. either you reject him and he can move on / focus on his work properly again ; or you admit to liking him back and the worries of his feelings not being mutual can vanish, leaving all the brain power it took available for work related stuff again.

MISCELLANEOUS

chan is a very flirtatious man, especially when he has a little crush. he makes it all pass off as jokes but, towards you, they're more serious than you think.

in order to develop any kind of attraction, chan needs a connection as friends and quite literally weeks of knowing the person before he considers them in any other way than a close friend. it is the shared experiences, the heart to heart conversations and all conversations—even the mundane ones—as friends, that charm him.

taglist. @aeinzzzketchup @hyunverse — let me know if you would like to be added / removed.

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heian-era-housewife · 4 months

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Sex, Smut, & Scuttlebutt

Lately I've seen a growing number of virgins, "new-cummers", and even seasoned sex vets voicing their concerns or frustrations with the unrealistic portrayal of sex within smut. Adult fictions are so fun to read and write and even more fun to act out in real life (with a trusted partner), but they are fiction. Quite often exaggeratedly so and in no way representative of what really goes on behind closed doors, or open (you do you babes).

Nevertheless these concerns and frustrations are real, they are valid, and they deserve to be acknowledged. And so, without further ado, I present to you the very real, very raw, and sometimes very unsexy side of sex.

(Though tbh nothing Ryomen Sukuna does could ever be categorized as 'unsexy')

Love to you all, no matter your experience 😘

Pairings | Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Higuruma, Toji, and of course Sukuna 💕

Content | mdni, smut, fem!reader x jjk men, piv, oral (both f-to-m and vice versa), pubes, blood, sex on period, first time, Toji eats a worm. It's fine. Don't worry about it.

Word Count | 3.3k

Gojo:

White Hair...Everywhere

You've been ignoring it for a while now. Well...trying to anyway. The faint tickle on the back of your tongue has grown into a sharp pinprick that jabs at your throat with each bob of your head. It's uncomfortable, it's distracting, and worst of all it is threatening to trigger your gag reflex.

Gojo gasps and whimpers, long fingers running through your hair, pulling you toward him as he edges closer to his climax. It's all you can do to focus on the task at hand when his sudden thrusts render the job impossible. You gag and sputter against the source of your irritation, eyes streaming as you pull away from his hungry cock.

Confusion and poorly concealed dissapointment in his words of longing barely register as you wretch, two of your own fingers stuffed to the back of your throat.

You turn to meet his eyes with yours still streaming as you reveal the cause for disruption. With your middle and index finger you pull a long, coiled, pure white hair from deep within your throat.

"I think this belongs to you," you tease, wiping drool from your chin and flicking the stray pube his direction.

"Oof. My bad," he squirms, one hand sheepishly rubbing against his undercut.

"Shall we resume?" You offer with a playful smile, making a show of patting away his snowy bristles before taking his twitching length back into your mouth.

"Phewww!" He whistled. "I thought for a second sexy time was over!"

"It wiw be ith you don' shu-up," you mocked, mouth full and voice muffled. You reached a hand around to give one of his ass cheeks an impish squeaze for good measure. Gojo laughed playfully before falling back into a steady rythm of whines and whimpers.

Geto:

Welcome to the Jungle

Unwaivering confidence was one of the things you loved so much about Suguru Geto. On a scale of 1-10 his sex appeal was an 11 and you were about to find out for yourself exactly why he was so damn self-assured.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but obsess over all your flaws and imperfections. Your outfits, those stretch marks, and was that =sniff, sniff= body odor??

But this was not the time to get lost in insecurity because you were perched pretty as a peach on his apartment sofa while Suguru stood, hastening to undo his belt, never once relinquishing that calm and cocky smile.

You gazed at him loftily, cheeks growing flushed, heart pounding in your ears. Your groin ached with longing as he stripped down to plain black boxer briefs and reached forward to help you down to bra and panties. Nerves and excitement churned in your core creating a volitile compound that set your heart ablaze. It was all too good to be real.

Finally, he guided your hands toward his own hips, placing them on the hem of his boxers, inviting you to remove his final garment.

Your brain buzzed with electric anticipation as you pulled downward, revealing that which, until this moment, you had only imagined.

And there it was.

And there you were.

Your buzzing brain cutting to standby as static filled your senses and every decision you'd ever made leading to this exact point in time sent you into a hurling spiral of doubt and regret.

Because Geto had shaved.

And you had not.

Not now...not ever. Frankly, it hadn't even occured to you before.

Insecurities came flooding in causing you to lose yourself entirely until the gentle touch of his strong hand on your pantyline dragged you forcefully back to your grim reality.

"NO!" You shrieked, pulling frantically from his reach.

"Oh! Have I hurt you?" He asked with concern as you wished with every fibre of your being for a quick and painless death.

"It's just...you're so pretty," you breathed, lip almost trembling as you spoke.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, cocky little smile returning to his perfect playboy face.

"And I'm...well..." you slipped off your own panties awkwardly, revealing a lush and uncut jungle, knowing you were already past the point of no return.

"You're.....?" Suguru prompted.

"I'm...you know...this!" You gestured to your unkempt garden.

"You're...female?" He finished, confused.

"NO!" He was missing the point. "I'm a gross unshaven mess! And you're...what? The centerfold of next month's Playgirl?"

Geto laughed, much louder than you expected, snorting as he did so. "That's what you're worried about??"

"That and a million other things...yeah!" You sulked, tears brimming your lashes as you slumped, defeated against the sofa.

"Come here," he said, pulling you close, forgetting entirely about his unclothed state. "I think you're sexy just the way you are. And, if I'm being honest, shaving is a real pain in the ass anyway."

Giggling to yourself, you watched as his impressive length grew soft and diminished as his arousal shifted to concern for you.

"Hey!" He objected, throwing a pillow over his lap. "He was just worried about you, give him a minute," he teased.

Both of you laughed as you snuggled on the couch together, sharing doubts and insecurities, reassuring one another, and settling in for a long night. One full of love making that was sure to be genuine, sometimes awkward, but far better than any magazine.

Nanami:

Corporate Cock Block

Nanami was pent up. Not only had he been called on a particularly large number of missions this week, he'd been forced into overtime nearly every day. Now that he was home, he was desperately looking forward to nothing more than dissolving in your arms and seeing where the night might take you both.

Needless to say, he was more than thrilled when you suggested skipping dinner and going straight for dessert. That's right. You were pretty pent up yourself. And who was he to deny his pretty and incredibly patient wife what she needed?

"Thank you-hah-for being so-mhh-understanding this-hahhh-week", he breathed through passionate kisses, slipping off his suspenders and tossing his goggles to the side.

Movements punctuated by more steamy kisses, you helped him take off his tie and belt while he worked his fingers up and under your shirt to skillfully unsnap your bra.

He backed you down the hall and together you fell onto the bed, both panting in excitement as clothing fell hastily to the floor.

Just then, the phone rang. His phone. Illuminated harshly against the evening's fading light revealing none other than Satoru Gojo as the caller. Nanami went rigid.

"Hun," you said softly, "it's okay if you need to-"

"No." He asserted, cutting you off. "He's had enough of my time. I'm off the clock and I'm spending this evening with my wife."

The seriousness in his tone was all you needed to know it was case closed, so as he let it go to voicemail, the two of you resumed your game of lips and hands.

Time passed, Nanami was absolutely aching for you, and you were practically trembling in anticipation. As he lined himself up, you closed your eyes ready to melt at the feeling of him entering your throbbing core. And that's when it happened. Again. The name "Satoru Gojo" shone through the darkness as Nanami's phone lit up your room.

"I'm going to kill him," Nanami said calmly, head hanging in frustration as he imagined all the ways he could cleave his obnoxious coworker in a perfect 7:3 ratio.

"Kento..." you whispered, bringing him back to reality. "I really don't mind if you need to-"

"Absolutely not! This is our time. You and me."

"But what if he needs-"

"There is nothing he could need from me that is more important than what's right in front of me," voice dripping with sincerity.

"I love you, Ken."

"I love you too. Truly," he replied. "Shall we?"

Picking up where you left off, he gave himself a few quick strokes before plunging deep into your core. Tension and relief unraveling as he worked his strong hips passionately between your shaking legs.

***

As the love making continued, a new tension was building within both of you and Nanami could feel himself reaching his climax, breaths coming sharp and shallow as he felt his nearing release.

"Im so close," He breathed.

"Me too, baby," you gasped.

And then...

=RINGGGGGG=

Nanami cracked.

Snapping up his phone while pounding the ever-loving life out of you, you heard his voice loud and hostile as he snarled into the speaker.

"Satoru Gojo, so help me God I have half a mind to cut you down where you stand. Do you know how long I've waited to FUCK my WIFE?! How many nights this week I had to give up SEX with HER just to follow your sorry ass around chasing curses and cleaning up the FILTH of this city?! I was about to give her one SPECIAL GRADE, MIND-BLOWING ORGASM before you-" he stopped thrusting, blood draining from his face, feral sneer dropping into a hollowed out look of utter humilation.

"Principal Yaga I- of course, sir, I'm so sorry...Yes..yes..right away. I understand. Again, I'm so- no of course not. I appreciate your discretion...I'll see you soon...bye."

Your eyes widened in horror as you listened to his conversation, unsure which end was worse.

"I..uh...I have to go. I'm needed at the school," he muttered sheepishly, unable to meet your shocked gaze.

"Yeah, I gathered that," you said with a nervous laugh.

You helped him get dressed, giving him a tight hug and wiping the beading sweat off his brow as he stumbled back out the door.

"Kento!" You called as he headed in the direction of the school. He turned to look at you, defeat written in his tired features. "Come home safe, okay?"

"Of course, love," he rasped, weakly.

"You still owe me that 'special grade, mind-blowing orgasm'," you teased with a wink.

Shaking his head, you heard him laugh as he hurried toward his next mission.

Higuruma:

Erection Overruled!

Hiromi's long week has finally drawn to an end and as your tired and more-than-likely dishevelled man makes his way home to slump into his favorite chair and fall asleep, you want to make sure he gets to finish the week out properly. You've spent the afternoon hard at work yourself, cleaning up, picking just the right music, and slinking in to that silky little black robe you know he loves slipping you out of.

The mood is set, candles are lit, and as if on cue Higuruma stumbles in through the front door, dropping his briefcase, and sagging languidly into his favorite chair. You approach from behind, running fingers through his dark and unkempt hair, tipping his head back with a provocative "Welcome home," allowing him to savor the view.

Experience tells him there's not a thing beneath that robe and his eyes grow wide and hungry as he scrambles to his knees, facing backward in his chair to take you in. He burries his nose against you as he presses passionate kisses to your collarbones, moving to nip at your neck, trailing his tongue upward and landing just below your earlobe before whispering , "I've waited all week for this."

One very steamy makeout session later, you find yourselves in the bedroom, working quickly to remove each other's clothing, air thick with ravenous longing. But as you slip him out of his trousers taking his not even half-hard cock into your loving hands, things start to feel a bit off.

Nothing a few good strokes can't fix, you think to yourself, stealing a downward glance at his would-be errection- flaccid, but hopeful.

Some time later there's still little change in terms of rigidity and you notice the exhaustion building behind his determined features. Knowing his pride is at stake, you start to wonder if it might just be best to let your tired man rest and resume love making another time. Opting for a mix of tact and humor, you make the judgement call.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I move to postpone today's proceedings until the defendant can get some well-deserved and very much needed rest."

Hiromi's eyes snap open. "Objection!" He barks automatically, surprising himself.

"Overruled!" You reply, tapping his tip once against his tummy as though holding a gavel.

A moment of silence as you stare at each other seriosuly and then...

"PFFFTTT!" You both burst out laughing at the ridiculous scene. He pulls you in for more kisses and you lay together wiping tears from your eyes as the laughter continues.

Turning on his side he offers, "Motion to reconvene tomorrow morning?"

"Motion granted!"

More laughter. A heavy sigh and then, "Thanks for understanding," he says.

"Impartiality is my job, afterall," you continue the act.

Pulling your head to his chest he scruffles your hair until you fight him off, giggling.

This isn't the first and probably won't be the last time your romantic pursuits as a couple are thwarted by exhaustion, but you know that with a little patience and a good night's sleep he'll be a different man come morning, when your courtship is back in session.

Choso:

Shark Week

Choso's not just new to sex. He's new to life itself. Loving him brings you the unique opportunity of experiencing the world for the very first time through his eyes.

The eldest of his brothers, he's already learned so much, but he still relies on you to guide him through his many firsts as both a lover and a mentor for all of life's unexpected moments- the good, the bad, and the painfully awkward.

That is why, when you hear a sharp, panicked little gasp as he pulls out of you, dick still twitching from his orgasm just moments before, you suspect you are in for another brand new encounter.

"What's a'matter Cho?"

"Uhm..." He swallows hard, eyes trained downward. "It's...it's not there."

"What's not there?" You question, sitting up against your elbows trying to glimpse whatever it is he's staring at.

"The condom," He says weakly, mouth going dry. "It's just gone!"

"Ohh!" You reach a knowing hand between your legs. "It probably just came off inside me."

"Is that bad?!" He asks, voice thick with worry.

"Not necessarily. You can probably just pull it out if it's right there."

He slides two hesitant fingers over your entrance, feeling for the rubbery traitor that's caused him such distress.

"Oh! I found it!" He sighs, relieved, pulling it gently from your core.

"See? Nothing to worry abou-"

"OH NO!" He cries, forcing you to sit up in alarm.

"What's wrong? Is it ripped?"

"You're bleeding! There's-" He looks as though he might pass out. "There's so much!"

"What?! I-" Realzation hits you as he holds up the stretched out condom, slick with glossy crimson. Feeling between your legs, you pull your hand away, stringy and viscous from a mix of blood and fresh arousal.

"Oh Cho I'm sorry. I think I started my-"

"I can't believe I hurt you! I thought I was being gentle! Maybe it's my cursed technique?? No...that can't-"

"Cho I-"

"I can fix it! Hang on let me just-"

"Choso!" He pauses his string of frantic babble to look at you. Deep lines etched across his troubled face. "Cho, I think I just started my period," You say, reaching your other hand to comfort your worried man.

"Oh. You mean 'shark week'?"

You laugh as he recalls the nickname you taught him for that notorious time of the month. "Yes hun, shark week."

"Was it...because of me?" He asks, eyes brimming with shame and guilt.

"No, my love!" You giggle at his innocence. "Just a coincidence. I'm sorry I scared you!"

A wave of relief washed over him as he clutched his chest, watching you get up and head toward the bathroom.

"I thought maybe I broke you somehow..."

"I know, sweet boy," You called from the hall. "You did nothing wrong. But when I come back we're going to cuddle like there's no tomorrow!"

"That....sounds nice" he said with a sigh, collapsing backward on the bed, brain tired and foggy from the day's latest lesson.

"Wait!" He called, suddenly excited. "Does this mean chocolate ice cream and movie night??"

"You really are a quick study!" You praise.

Running to grab the ice cream he calls, "I think I can get used to shark week!"

Toji:

Three's a Crowd

Toji is a lone wolf. An elusive rogue agent. He holds everyone at arm's distance, including you. That is...until recently, anyway.

What started as casual hookups in seedy bars and late-night love hotels, hell even the back of a cab once (actually maybe twice...you were rather drunk), has turned into pseudo dates and sober conversation. To be honest, you've fallen pretty hard for your man of mystery and the last thing you want to do is scare him off now. That's why, when he finally invites you to his place for the first time, you're determined not to blow it.

"It's not much, but it's home." He says, leading you through the front door of a shabby back-alley apartment. Despite his somewhat delinquent nature, his apartment is well-kept and the made-up bed you spot through an open door near the back looks far more inviting than the sleazy moth-eaten matresses and dive bar sofas where you've been spending your less-than-romantic moments.

Grabbing his hand, you practically drag him back there, excited to see where he lays his head at night, smell the cologne on his sheets. He stumbles behind, a goofy yet seductive grin stretching the scar on the corner of his lips that you're just dying to taste.

As you step into the darkened bedroom, a small sound grabs your attention. Atop the dresser something is breathing- sputtering. You pause, trying to get a look at the noise's source, realizing Toji must have a pet. Your heart skips as you imagine this macho miscreant returning home to a small, soft animal for whom he shares a rare bit of affection. Fucking adorable.

The creature, appearing only as a shapeless mound at first (is it a cat?) turns to look at you. And that's when you freeze. Because there in his room, peering at you through swollen, squinted eyes, frothy drool dribbling down its pudgy face, is a gigantic....worm???

"Toji!" You gasp, turning back to hide behind the muscular arm you're now grasping for dear life. "What the hell is that thing?!"

"Oh." He says curiously, "You can see it?"

"OF COURSE I CAN SEE IT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! THING'S FUCKIN' HUGE!"

"Heh," he chuckles, amused. "It won't hurt ya. C'mere."

Without even another glance at the demonic creature, Toji pushes you against the bed, bringing his large frame down over you, rutting his hips as he feasts hungrily on your neck. You want to lose yourself in the throes of his passion, you really do. But all you can think about is the thing on the dresser. Turning under the weight of Toji's advances to see if it's still there, you find yourself making direct eye contact with the hideous overgrown catarpillar.

You can't believe he's not distracted. Can't believe he hasn't said a single word about the little drooling monster. And as Toji makes quick work of undressing while he hovers over you, you find yourself unable to contain your inner thoughts.

"Toji...it's so...long!" You say, eyeing the thing warily.

"Mm...I know, Doll," he agrees.

"I mean like...it's gigantic!" You mewl covering your eyes in disgust.

"Hah...so I've heard," he admits, slipping off your panties from beneath your skirt.

"And it...I don't know...it looks hungry. Like...it's about to tear me apart..."

"If that's what you want, love," he growls with a forward thrust.

"Seriously, Toji, I don't know if I can do this! It's just so gross!"

"...Gross?" He looks like he's been punched in the gut.

"Yeah! Gross and purple!"

"Purple?!" Pulling out, he stares down at his cock. "Fuck you mean, purple?!" Then, following your gaze he says, "You're not still on about that damn worm, are you??"

"What did you think I was talking about?!"

"Look, if it bothers you that much, I'll get rid of it." Without another word, he gets up from the bed, crosses the room to the dresser, takes the creature in his hands before crunching it down into a tiny ball and swallowing it whole.

"Now are we gonna get freaky or what?" He huffs.

Oh, we are wayyyy past freaky, you think to yourself.

Who the hell was this mysterious man of yours? You're left with more questions than answers. But despite the horror you just witnessed one thing has you smiling...arm's distance or not, you doubt very seriously anything you do could scare him off.

Sukuna:

Thousand-Year-Old Virgin

Sukuna is a hardened, battle-ready, godlike being of prowess and prestige, decorated by time itself. Stranger to no man and no challenge, his many achievements transcend the millenia. He has seen and done things even those with rich and deeply fulfilled lives will never experience.

Let's face it, he's a thousand fucking years old. So that's why, when he mumbled something under his breath, something you thought could only be some type of strange joke, you were too stunned to laugh. And the fact that you didn't is the only reason you're still alive. That, and he's fallen rather profoundly in love with you, but he won't be admitting to that any time soon.

So when he pulls away from your lips to stare sheepishly at his bare feet criss-crossed in front of him before uttering the words you're sure you must have heard wrong, you ask him to please repeat himself.

"I've never done this before..." he gruffs, crossing both sets of arms and averting his gaze to the side with a nose-crinkling sneer.

"Done...what?" You ask, innocently.

"This! All of this!" He barks, waving his arms in frustration.

Your brain is working overtime just to read between the lines. He's acting like it's obvious, but you can't understand which "this" he's referring to.

"I don't get what-"

"SEX OKAY!" He gruffs bitterly. "I've never had sex!"

You just stare. Lips parted slightly as your jaw hangs limp, still unsure you've heard him correctly.

"And would you stop looking at me like that??" He scowls.

"'Kuna, I...I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, well...neither do I," he admits, still avoiding your gaze.

"It's just that you're...a thousand years old...I guess I just figured in that time you would have-"

"I didn't get to where I am by running around like some dog in heat," he retorts. "I spent my time getting stronger, strategizing, honing my cursed technique. Then I was sealed away for a few hundred years. When the hell would I have-"

"I never thought of it like that. But I figured Heian Era and all, the 'King of Curses' must have had concubines, right?"

"Yeah? So? I had a bunch of that old-timey shit!" He spouted. You had to stifle a laugh this time. "Doesn't mean I cared. I was...you know...a little busy conquerring the world?"

It was beginning to sink in. The King of Curses, God of the Heian Era, the Great Ryomen Sukuna sat on a shelf like a minted doll for a thousand years, completely untouched, and you- little modern nobody you- were about to take his "v-card". You felt giddy.

"'Kuna," You began, reaching out to take his face in your hands, compelling him to look at you. He hissed as you did so. "Ryomen. We don't have to do this."

"No, I want-"

"If you really want to, that's fine. Just know that it's going to be messy. Probably a little awkward. Maybe a lot awkward! Heck, I don't even know what to do about the extra set of limbs and...appendages," You laughed, giving his thigh a squeaze. He rolled his eyes. You continued earnestly, "I just want you to know it's okay not to know it all- not to get everything perfect. That's where the trust comes in...and where the memories are made."

He heaved a deep sigh, turning away again as he became lost in thought.

"Hey, Ryo?"

"What, brat?"

"Thanks for waiting for me," you wink.

"Don't flatter yourself," he grumps, a rougey glow tingeing his cheeks.

"Of course not," you smile. Then, eyeing his extra arms you continue. "So I just have one question..."

"Speak."

"Will we need one condom, or two?"

Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs always appreciated, but never expected.

MDNI banner credit to @cafekitsune

Special thanks to @heian-era-househusband for always listening to my stories and for being my trusted partner 💕

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fawnpires · 2 years

Text

EVERY MAN GETS HIS WISH — SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: under the enemy's eye, you're required to accompany the task force's lieutenant but an unfortunate situation of enemy attack occurs; falling victim to both things, your superior and some hidden feelings.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: sex pollen, non-consensual drug use, one-bed-trope, inappropriate relationship with a superior, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, age gap, manhandling, pet-names, size difference, dirty talk, grinding, mild degradation, praise kink, porn with plot, loss of virginity, innocence kink.

He wasn't a saint, nor was he heroic man to be looked up to; which was baffling considering his status of customary deeds. Brave, noble, bold — all of those things checked off to be deemed as heroic, as simple as that.

Rather than a man of military, he was more of a vigilante — acting on his own accord, directing himself and the men he worked along with the mind of personal dominance. He knew he didn't fit the stereotype of a soldier; obscene mindset, crude jokes cracked, stiff posture that made him stand stall and all intimidating, and a exterior skull of a clothed balaclava. As daunting as the man was, he was just like peers — quite ill-mannered off the field, absorbed too much in himself.

But he had learnt to contain a majority of that. Solitude was more ideal than ill-mannered, and he preferred that. Often covered up with tracks of blood and brutality, his humanlike isolation made up the whole of him; swallowed him up whole. He didn't know why he enlisted for the military, or why he hadn't quit so many years into the position. Perhaps for the adrenaline rush, or to endure the experiences of war, but the utmost possibility was to make something out of the miserable man he was — sculpt a more successful alternative.

In some way, that had worked out, made him whatever a hero was supposed to be. If that had made him a hero, then be it, if it didn't, then who was he to care? It's not like he cared for his general image, what others thought of who he was; only a man of great cruelty, inhumane and cold-blooded.

A lot of that shifted with you. One of the few women recruited, reserved and utterly meek when interacting one-on-one. You're instantly caught in the range of his observations, curiosity and skepticism as the two perplexing sensations that send him over the edge. Though he's afraid, and not in a tensed sense, it's more based on his feelings; those feelings that he thought would be triggered off in him, until he has you in his sights. That's why he scarcely ever partnered up with you on missions, putting some separation there to rid of those perplex feelings compressed to himself.

Unbeknownst to both you and him, that changes by a great deal. With Price's organization of the next mission, only in need of two personnel, it's down to the coincidence of him being paired up alongside you. The one thing that he was oh-so-successfully doing so well for the couple months you've resided in the task force, but shattered to bits when approaching this unfortunate expedition — it's pressuring, wearing his nerves out — tense. (As if you weren't as equally on edge about being collaborating with your intimidating, enormous superior.)

You're close to him, practically almost rubbing arms together. The overhead sky is dull of sun and some additional clouds, reflecting off the shade of his masked face and the tactical gear he displays. Forwards on, there's nothing but fields of fading grass and a waning path. The intercoms attached to both your uniforms are radio silence; no commands, no Price on the other end except from a few minutes ago when given the straight order to push on until Ghost gives direct instruction there.

Every so often you feel his eyes on you, causing you to adjust your head in his direction only to see him facing the path in front of him; yet sometimes you catch him side-eyeing you through the holes of his mask. Anxiousness boils in the pit of your stomach with each passing second — with his close physical contact, aware of him catching tiny glimpses of you — it causes you to distance yourself from him without your own awareness.

"Careful, kid," he said, his rasped voice the only sound you've heard in the rounds of minutes, "Stay close, don't want you wandering off now."

You blink a few times in a daze at the name, sliding yourself right back next to him, uneasiness tainting the void that was slotted right between you and him. Your hold on your firearm loosens, clutching it closer to your chest, the fingers of your left hand tightening around frontier piece. The sole use of his pet name intact for you leaving you flustered and weak in the limbs.

A sigh blows past your lips. "How much further?" you ask, "Been minutes, hours."

"Almost there, right through this path." he replies swiftly, crouching before gesturing to the right, "Cut here."

He takes lead, in front, and you linger close behind. The trail is cut off, there's more open field and sky where the sky darkens; shadows drawn on the ground, sun merely in sights and lowering beyond the horizon line. Arising in the distance, a structure stands its ground; a warehouse, seemingly deserted, dim light fixtures hung side-by-side with a half opened roll-up sheet door.

In a crouched position, he kneels in the fields of dried grass, signaling for you to do the same — which you oblige with. The slinging strap of your gun digs through your tactical wear, felt into your skin, marking the flesh with the outline of it. Around the airspace is tight and claustrophobic, your chest heavy with the beat of your palpitating, head weighed with a throb and some exhilaration.

"Visual on the hideout," he presses his intercom open to Price, gloved thumb to the button and his head tilted.

Price is heard clicking his own intercom through. "All yours, Ghost, your command from there."

Ghost pauses in his movements for a second then aligns his head back in position on his neck, closing off his intercom as it goes back to the original state of radio silence. He revolves his entire body in your direction, even crouched he's still so much towering and intimidating, eyes a shade of sepia surrounded with black war-paint dying right into your bare ones. "Stay close by me, then separate once inside, then you stay on watch while I locate, understood?"

It's a different request, more distant than what you were usually accustomed to, but in this position; there was really no arguing back on this, or better yet declining.

"Affirmative." you reply, getting off the ground and maintaining a standing position, still bent on your knees to avoid possible detection. He does the same, taking lead again and scurrying out of the grass into the open expanse of the warehouse's front, taking careful measures as he leans to grab a hold of the half-opened roll-up door's handle and widening the entrance so that's their enough space to set foot in. You're sweating, pumped of adrenaline as the whole situation sends yourself into a condition of delirium and kicked of a strange thrill — rifle no longer clutched to your chest, but in a prepared-aiming stance.

A scent, between a bitterness and saccharine, stings your nose. The inside of the building reeks of it, your face hit with a handful of it, causing you to pull up the cloth of your uniform and hold it over your nose.

(Luckily for him, he sported that damned mask of a skull all the time. The one time that you've fully understood to why he would need it, even coming across a situation like this.)

Fluorescent lights in tubes buzz overhead, flickering in flashes across each of your faces, background of quietude besides the shuffles of Ghost moving in his gear and the humming of the lights. He raises his arm to gesture the previous order given, you stay put up against a wall while he proceeds further and observes the stairs, the upper level with a room; unsuspected of the flat, low contour of a light that casts through the glass panes of the space. You watch across your shoulder, moving up to the bottom of the case of stairs, detecting each of his calculated steps, prepared to act on direction.

He reaches the top platform and eyes the door — though, before he has the chance to elbow the door wide open, his suspicions of there being lifeforms present are confirmed — the solid matter of the door bursts open without warning and a clink of an object hits the ground where he stood.

Adapting the consciousness to back away from it was far too late to act on now, a blow of the now-identified smoke grenade pollutes the atmosphere around, white and clouds around more than you had expected it to. Despite having your uniform stuffed to your nose, the scent is brought back to you — that bitter, sweet-smelling one — and it throws you into an abrupt coughing fit. Some of it breaches to your eyes, leaving a whole of you to be incompetent to retaliate against the enemy; hell, you couldn't even fend it off.

There's a grit of your teeth while slump back against the stairs. You lay against your rifle that had been abandoned from the clutch of your hands, your chest abnormally heavier; as if you were lungs were filled with a burdensome matter. Through the veil of your fogged vision and the diminishing sheet of smoke, the lieutenant held more strength than you, holding himself up against the wall of the room and held the handle of his knife up into one of the perpetrators.

His strength in the moment was impressive, nearing admirable, but it wasn't enough to overturn the situation with more than one perpetrator present. About two circle him while another three take notice of your debilitated figure haunted with the beginning side effects seeping into the fissures of your body, your head.

The last few recollections were of slow footsteps approaching your comatose-like body, your breaths heavier and more echoed against the shells of your ear. That sensation in your chest sourced from the smoke was growing into more crucial, dangerous areas; the smoke's aroma intense and all that you could really smell. They're crouched and talk over your body through muffled hoods, gas-masks.

It's difficult to make out what they're saying, (In this state everything was difficult, from vision to solely breathing.) A palm rests at your forehead, frigid to the touch before it burns down to a more scorching feeling once left more on contact to your skin.

You use your last bit of brawn to grasp at an attempt to get away downwards but there's an additional grab to your legs from below. A grunt flows from your throat in a strained manner, the ramifications of the unknown dust outdoing your own control.

A palm to your forehead, acidity stench, and the rear of a shotgun to strike you to a vacant space of unconscious void.

Against your skin, there's heavy breathing, and motions of flexing arms under your lifted thighs. You find your hands balled in fists at the fabric of his tactical jacket, his jacket, Ghost. To your surprise, he had proved your accusations of his strength giving out back at the warehouse wrong — overthrowing the opponents and beating them to pulps like his usual violent self, his bloodthirsty persona which slaughters the targets he chooses. Undeniably, he was rabid. No morals, no mercy for his rivals like the truculent brute he was.

His hand supports your back, the other to your legs which had explained the flexes that continue under you. He stumbles over to a tree which provides a temporary shelter as he slants at the bark.

He isn't vulnerable, he almost never was. It was either a violent, bellicose identity or one of great endurance. Ghost was an inexplicable man. On the battlefield, he's nothing more than a weapon — a masculine personification of warfare that taunts and douses his victim in a bloodbath of gore. (Who knew if he had developed some sick satisfaction from it, years of countless executions bound to his hands.)

But now he an absolute contrasting mortal to that, possessing you in his big arms right to his chest. You almost feel safe, sort-of sheltered more than you've ever felt in your entire presence of being restricted to the Earth's grounds. You take notice of how he checks over his shoulder then sloping his head down to your laid physique. His hand moves to cradle the back of your head, lifting you slightly.

"Come on, c'mon," he whispers and buries his fingers deeper in your hair, "Stay with me, kid."

In response, your half-lidded eyes widen up a little more, hands ghosting over his forearm and leaving your fingers to brush over the sleeve. You think you hear a sound of relief, but it was complicated to say with his smothering mask dying down a mass of his words.

The collected scenery around had been ingested fully with the effects of dusk, nearing complicated to make out where you the both of you resided for the time being. All you could comprehend was that he accomplished to elude from the main origin of the danger, and had hid out nearby in this perspective of trees.

"How'd... how'd you get get away?" you ask, sitting up with his supportive hand still at your back.

"That's what years of military training does to you," he replied, panting, "Reinforced stamina, mask helped drag out some of the grenade too."

You blink slowly, bringing your middle and index finger to your face which gathers some of that bitter residue. "What is this shit, anyways?"

"Not sure, has to be some conjured batch of contraband. Never been out to be transported, personal use — that's what I say."

"Some strong stuff." you mutter.

His strength which is used to hold you up heightens when he stands from his crouched position, a grunt choked in his throat. You link your arms around his neck for more support, doe-like eyes staring right into the pit of skull and cloth.

He doesn't mind, you think.

"Saw a safe-house up there, we'll spend the night there." he states.

"What about the rest of the operation?"

"I'll get in touch with Price," he said, "Possible case scenario is the whole thing being postponed."

You can only bring yourself to nod your head; at the same time, those secondary effects of the substance flowing back into yourself, stronger. Ghost starts back up forward to where the safe-house was situated, and his motions produce perceptions of vertigo. A whimper is hushed from behind your closed lips, head pressed to his shoulder and submerging into his jacket. His own scent gives distraction from the sustained bitterness and swirling sweetness that made your head pulsate in equivalent palpitations to your rapid heartbeat.

Your limbs are brought to weakness, frail and shaky against the perimeters of your pants. Sweat sticks to you — your forehead, your skin, your clothes. The strap of your bra feels more mauled into your flesh, branding into your sultry skin. There's an unanticipated rush of heat that throbs out from between your thighs, another whimper muted from your secured lips. Right in the moment, like a natural instinct, you could't help but trail your eyes over to Ghost.

How his biceps flexed and bent underneath you, his distinctive scent stalling at your nose of gunpowder and pine. It was intoxicating, holding you in a trance complete of him; all your focus on your lieutenant. You were known to hold an admiration for him ever since recruitment, his particular set of skills and proficient demeanor that was worthy of your commendation. But now it had shrunk into nothing but merely a hidden, perverted desire that had been brought out in the faults of the anesthetizing matter. Pressing your head deeper into the cloth of his jacket, you force your legs to squeeze together — an aim to rid of the shameful sensations that were coming down at you at the same.

As you doubted it was never going to transpire, Ghost had successfully brought the two of you into the safe-house. No longer in use, abandoned and dead, the short-term sanctuary reserved for you and him only. One story, decently-sized, and ideal for hiding out from potential nearby threats.

You're supported up in his arms for an interval while he inspects the building until reaching the upstairs, in the single bedroom which had been the only one throughout the investigation. He leans downwards to allow you to stable yourself on two unsteady legs from his hold. You stagger over to the solitary mattress and sit on the edge of it, two hands resting on the edge, fingers compressing into the foam. By now, the effects the substance took on your body had evolved into a level of unbearable.

Sweat drapes over your body in a fitted sheet, that vertigo subsiding into a lower degree but adjoining to the intense pulsing of your cunt that you've managed to handle for a while now. You slap a palm to your forehead, down your face, examining the extreme sweat that stains the skin there. Ghost sits at the foot of the bed, close to you, and begins to strip of his vest and his jacket.

"Get some rest, you'll need it in the morning." he advises towards you, proceeding to strip of the rest of his heavy gear.

"Was there not another bedroom?" you ask.

"Just this one," he said, "Why? You ashamed of sleeping with a superior or somethin'?"

Sleeping. To your current perverted head, you take it a more immoral way, heat rushing to your face at the thought.

"No, no, I just... thought you needed more privacy. Wanted to have some alone time, you know?"

He glances to you. "If you're uncomfortable, I can just sleep on the floor, kid — nothin' personal."

"It's fine, Ghost, seriously." you said.

His stare drifts on you for a little while longer before shifting away, bending his upper half into the pocket of his tactical jacket for a lighter version of his balaclava; one that wasn't supported with the hard shell of a skull at the front, but printed with a the design of the skull instead. His eyes were more visible this way, tar-like paint on pale skin around the browned irises. You shyly strip of your own vest and jacket, leaving you in a black tank top and tactical pants. The only light that had really illuminated the room was the tranquilizing beam of the moonlight through the pane of the window, white and glowy.

You slump fully onto the bed and sink into the soften material of a pillow. Your resting position distributes some heaven from the tormenting sensitivity that throbs like hell through your pants. The space on the mattress from behind you droops with his weight, a breathy sigh leaving his lips as he settles close to you; the closest you've ever been with him, almost intimate.

After a slight period of time, he's knocked out in a slumber — but you're left awake, a hand now between your legs as the pulsing is at its height; panties drenched and your heartbeat thumping out of the cage of your chest. You gaze over your shoulder at him where he lays closer facing you, his eyes visibly slit shut with the gleam of the moonlight. He adjusts himself and moves in closer to you in his sleep, towering figure nearly pressed up at you. The adjustment leaves you flustered, shock.

Without hesitations, you remove your hand that nestled from the space of your thighs and slipped through the waistband of your pants; stripping of your pants, gliding into your panties and fingertips feeling the soaked fabric of it before trailing further, rubbing slightly against your cunt. Your back arches and you muffle a whine into your pillow, heartbeat sounding at your ears in impossible volumes. Shame was no longer present, libido taking authority over your body and leading you to do such perverted things while thinking of your superior — who was sleeping away right next to you.

In this sort of mindset you can barely grab control of yourself anymore and find yourself stumbling backwards into Ghost, your free hand over your mouth as you feel the area of his crotch press up against the curve of your ass. One of your eyes twitch, hand in your panties rubbing at your puffy lips while your hips begin circular motions at his clothed crotch. The hand at your mouth fails to stay together, fingers parting from each other and granting the noises from your mouth to spill out. His arm then wraps at your waist, unconscious or not, seemingly pulling you closer to him; a bulge in his pants felt at your panties.

"Lieutenant..." you whisper breathily, looking back at him only to see his eyes were no longer shut — but half-lidded and open.

His arm at your waist travels to your hips, trapping you in the enclosure of his hands while he pushes you down further onto his bulge; an audible whine leaving your mouth with additional pants.

"Look at you," he groans with a rasp in his tone, "Gettin' off on her superior like the needy whore she is."

"M' sorry, Ghost, fuck, needed you so bad..." you whine out as his hips grind against your ass harsher, almost in similarity to thrusting, yourself drunk on him and his cock.

"Yeah, love?" he questions, "Say it, how long have you've been like this for me? How many times have you touched that pretty little cunt of yours to the thought of me every night?"

Your eyes are shot vast, saliva pooled in your closed mouth and your panties moist — slick painting the inner sections of your thighs. Words struggle shape into coherent sentences through your mindless babbles and the disturbance of his erection prodding right at your clothed cunt, but you manage. "Ever since I joined the task force," you say through a half-whine, "Since I've first seen you."

A couple of months was your first appearance on working for the task force. Decently skilled and a couple of rank higher than your first impression of a rookie, barely given any training. That's how long you've yearned for him — how many times you've laid sole right at midnight, in your room of the barracks, a hand down your panties while breaths of weight exhale with personal noises of lust. You project his hand instead of yours in the fabric, veins and a bigger expanse of flesh that stretches your tight cunt out with lengthy fingers.

Now those momentary projections had manifested itself into the real life, the reality where your older superior had himself pressed up against you; hungering after you as much as you did for him.

He has his face in the crook of your neck. "Fucked my fist thinkin' of you," you said, "You and your heavenly body distractin' me on missions... drives me insane."

"Ghost, please." you whimpered.

"Tell me what you need, sweet thing, c'mon." he cooes against your neck, the arms around your waist locking you right to the area of his crotch when all you could do is whine and push yourself down for more of the relief. Your body burns and fits of sweat, the temples of your forehead pounding.

"Need you to fuck me," you pant, "Need you inside so bad."

Ghost places a masked kiss at your jaw at the confession and in an instant movement; you're underneath him, a caging shadow scarcely visible by the traces of moonlight through the glass panes. The loss of friction he once gave from behind you was no longer there, leaving you to press your thighs together once again in hopes to rekindle some of the loss. His palms are flat at each side of your head, the bulging muscles of his black shirt outlining through the material — and the thing you've longed for the most, the bulge that lines and becomes trapped in his fabric confines.

He uses his right arm and his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties, ragging the drenched item down past your knees and left to be discarded on the mattress. His eyes preserve in a mature desire; bleary and focused on the exposed region of wet flesh. You bite the skin of your bottom lip, sheepish to never having another person being so up-close to an area that was so confidential to you throughout a large portion of your life. Two of his fingers slide up your puffy lips, soaked of your collected arousal while he elicits a low gasp from you.

"Fuck, angel, never seen someone so wet all for me." he said.

You had wondered if you should tell him now — after you were the first one to make such a bold move on him, you had to confess the private matter of never having intercourse; the only closest sexual encounter you've had was with yourself. (Those nights in the barracks with your single hand.)

"Ghost, wait—" you stutter out, a palm spread-out at his chest in a way to interrupt him of his doings.

"Somethin' wrong?"

You breathe, your throat gone dry. "I- I haven't done this before." you admit.

"You're a virgin, honey, is that it?" he asked with his accent swarmed of concern, "Never had a man touch you like this?"

"No," you said, "I want you to be my first time..." the admission was brief to a point, sure, but it was what you were so desperate in need of. You reserved this occasion just for him, and it had finally gave life to itself.

"Oh, sweet girl," he caresses your face with both hands, large palms squishing your cheeks and rubbing soothing motions into the skin, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, please," you whisper, "God, I've waited and waited, only for you to be the first. Nobody else."

With that, his hands drag themselves down your face, your chest and stomach, and aligning at your thighs. He leans himself down onto the mattress, pinning his body onto the cushioned material. Your legs rest at each of his shoulders and his fingers create a restraint; powerless to thrashing or releasing from his hold. His thumb and index finger momentarily fix up the bottom of his balaclava to the brink of his nose, moving back to the flesh of your thigh. You squirm a little from the long, dragged-out desperation that spread through your body like a disease — a plague of lust solely meant for your lieutenant.

At long last his head descends to that throbbing territory right between your parted thighs, all bathed in your bloomed arousal and swollen clit. You feel his tongue kiss over your skin before running one long stripe up your cunt, lips fully puckering over you. To this new, overwhelming ease —out of the extended period of time with the substance's aches— you throw your head back to the headboard, a breathy gasp leaving you throat each time his tongue comes to work on your cunt. His nose adds to the ecstasy that he sends you right into, nuzzling and prodding right at your clit when his mouth works along your slit.

You stifle a moan, but ultimately fails when his tongue fucks itself right into your cunt, nearly felt at your walls. Whines echo off the boundaries of the room, the double simulation causing your eyes to flutter and your walls to clench around his tongue. Your thighs squeeze at his head while trembling, leaving your fingers to claw at the sheets, each and every assembly of your exclusive noises the nearest experience he would ever capture to hearing heaven — an angel, his very own angel.

"Fuckin' heaven right between your thighs, princess," he praised, running his tongue at the spots he was quick to learn that were sensitive to you, "Needy thing, you are."

"Y- Yes, yes... fuck." you whine.

"M' going to ruin you, bunny," he said amid his pleasuring, "Be the first man to ruin you, and this sweet pussy of yours."

Your thighs tremble, thrown-back head releasing noises of pants and disgraceful moans. His tongue works more diligently now, in the habit of working at your cunt. The ministrations are more faster and insistent. "Oh, Ghost..." you whimpered, bucking your hips onto his face and essentially riding his entire facial structure. He lifts his irises to your fucked-out face, staring in admiration, a raw visual of beauty — open-mouth, tilted head, sheet of sweat over skin, and all because of his own doing.

Rather than alternating between lapping at the exterior of your cunt and pushing his tongue right into you, he makes his mind up of only plunging his tongue in-and-out of you. The more rabid motions of his tongue driving up into you is a whole new degree of euphoria, a knot in your abdomen tying itself at the muscle fucking at your delicate walls. But it's not soon when that knot is unbinding itself, your body writhing under him as your hips roll and ripples of pleasure drive out from the undoing knot.

When Ghost arises from his spot between your now-fully soaked thighs, his mouth and nose are saturated with the liquids of your orgasm; the first orgasm you've had provoked by another person. You spasm, at some state of relief — but not enough to fully satisfy the explicit emotions that fomented right to him. Heavy breaths leave your mouth and his, trembling fingers of yours coming to pull off your tank-top and bra; fully nude and stripped beneath him now. You take notice of his eyes widening for a brief second behind the warpaint — astonished, or whatever he had going on at that unpredictable mind of his.

"Such a doll, baby." he said, inclining down to press a kiss to your lips, straightening his stance above you — towering you. He strips of his own shirt, a broad chest of muscles and pale skin, then lingering a hand down to his tactical pants where he shrugs the cloth down to his ankles; thoroughly peeling away from any fabric, except for his boxers with that prominent bulge at the forefront.

You patiently look up at him through your lashes while he slowly tugs at the waistband of the remaining article of clothing, a sensation at your gut anxious for the release of it. He wastes no time pulling the boxers down, cock smacking at his lower abs. Undeniably, he was as large as you've fantasized him to be — but with more length added, more veins that adorned him and a blunt head that oozed of pre-cum. Your breath hitched at the sight, a slow blink of your eyes while he clamped a fist over himself.

He pumped himself a few times in the fist, never once leaving the perspective of your near-goddess body all spread out for him. The stare in his eyes were darker, more obscured with shadows and a deep, perverted passion that you once obtained; only for it to die down at his domination on you, reduced to your usual timidity. Observing his cock in his fist, you bite your lip, that throbbing sense at your cunt returning in a more intense wave.

In a more bent position over your anatomy, you feel the head of his cock prod right at your entrance and you gasped when it starts in circular movements — gathering some of the remnants of your arousal on the head.

His fingers grasp at your jaw, gently forcing you to make direct eye contact. "Hey, hey, look at me," he whispers, "Relax, honey, it's going to hurt a little since it's your first time, yeah?"

You give him a nod, lip bitten at your teeth.

"If it hurts, we stop, no big deal — got it?"

You give him another nod of reassurance. It was a huge thing to give up, to put trust into the hands of another man — but it was him, your lieutenant, the man you've admired and personally worshipped like your own god. You trusted him with your life, that's how far it was taken, and now you could trust him with taking your virginity; ruining yourself for him.

With the given permission, he slowly fills you up, the head of his cock slipped into your cunt. He groans at the tight sensation, a whimper of your end at his lengthy size inside of you. You already feel so filled, and it was only the blunt head that had been in you. Ghost immerses in how you feel clenched around him, tight and leaving him almost unable to fully thrust himself in; the intimate way your legs bracket at his waist, how your arms wrap his torso like a bandage and your fingers jab at his back muscles.

"Ghost—" you whine out, feeling yourself clench around the head of his cock that left you almost brain-dead — unable to speak, or form a coherent thought at that, "Oh, fuck..."

His large hands keep you confined at your waist, lips pressing at your face while one hand frees itself and cradles you in it. "Still doing okay, sweetheart?" he asks with a genuine concern, and you nod, allowing him to thrust the remaining inches of his cock right into your cunt. Your back arches off the mattress at the sudden movement and the short sting that accompanies it. "Doing so good, love."

He starts out in slow, steady thrusts and you whine with the flow of his hips against yours. Gradually, he speeds up once coming to the realization that you were already adapted to how he moved up inside of you. Your fingers at his back begin to dig deeper, breaking the skin and leaving red marks in the wake. His stamina is a whole stage of extremity than your own, which is why he's able to pound into your cunt without pause.

"You love this don't you, sweet girl?" he pants, "You love having your sweet little pussy filled up by your superior's big cock, huh?"

You rapidly nod with pants between your lips, saliva down the corners of your widened mouth, "Love it s'much, Ghost, oh—"

"My real name, say it, honey."

You whimper, the bottoms of your eyes twitching. "Love how you fuck me, Simon — be rough with me, please, I don't care anymore."

At the your request, his particular set of thrusts afterwards of his are hard and nearing animalistic, right up at your cervix — nearly at your womb. He reduced you to nothing but a writhing, moaning mess where you laid under him; legs fixated at his waist and your arms at his torso forcing him down closer to you.

"Always wanted to fuck you like this, y'know?" he rasps between grunts, "Every-time one of those lowlife rookies eyed you, wanted to bend you over and show them who you belong to," he said, "Fuck in front of everyone like a bunch of animals.

An audible, echoing whine slips from your mouth at his own perverted confession. Who knew he shared the same fucked-up fantasies as you did? (Truly a match made in heaven.)

In the way he fucked into your cunt at a rapid pace, it could be considered animalistic — just like his fantasy. His veined hands caress your waist while every thrust of his hardened cock brushing past your walls and pounding into your cervix extracts an angelic sound from your mouth.

"More, please, please—" you whine out, head thrown back and nails into his skin, "I'll be your girl, 'mmm my god — your only girl, I promise..."

He grunts. "That's right, bunny. I'm the only man who can fuck you like this," he said, "I'll make you remember this night, the first man to ever ruin you like this."

Ghost throws his head back, his posture aligning itself out while his jaw clenches. Sounds of skin-on-skin and a chorus of high-pitched whines along with raspy, masculine grunts leave the safe-house no longer deserted; conducted of sexual nature in its walls. You squeal as he never fails to reach your cervix while he continues to pound into you, addicted to the way your cunt clenches on him like a vice and how your body reacts to his cock impaling it like a natural instinct — clamping on, soaked of arousal just at the mere thought of it settled in you.

The space between your two thighs are messier than the first time, when you found yourself being carried like a bride in his arms, when you ground yourself right to the bulge of his pants. It's sloppy, with a combination of your arousal and his pre-cum painting your inner-thighs like a piece of artwork; the whole scene a scenario of a sexual, brutal renaissance painting.

"M' so close, Simon!" you squeal, "Need you to cum inside, mmph — please..."

"You want that, sweet girl?" he asks, "Want me to cum all inside of your pretty pussy?"

"Yes!"

He chuckles. "You lil' fuckin' whore, all needy like this for her first time."

And with that, Ghost smacks his lips to yours. His tongue laps at each crevice of your mind, a hand coming to grab at your jaw and keep you in position. The results from him eating you out still linger on his tongue, causing you to moan right into his mouth and allow him to eat you all up. Your insides feel raw at this point in the way his cock leaves squishes noises each time he meets with your puffy, sticky folds — cervix bruised and kissed with his overwhelming contact.

"C'mon, princess, show your lieutenant who you belong to," he breathes between kisses, "That's it, I know you can, bunny."

Ghost feels the abrupt stop of your clawing at his back when your cunt spasms around his cock, clenching as tightly when a burst of liquid seeps out and decorates the head of his cock, drooling down the veiny sides. The pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen clit during your orgasm, a loud whine earned at the contact. His cock twitches inside of you at your noise, and at the discernment of your pretty cunt squeezing down on him; in some way telling him to stay, never let you go, claim and haunt you down to never leave your side, never.

With your orgasm already wrapped and concluded, he undergoes one of his own; not long after yours. A gush of fluid plants at your walls and floods past your cervix, felt at the inners of your womb. Sensitivity still contemporary, you find yourself mewling at the impact when it spills to the parts deepest inside of you — coddled in the warmth of his seed, filled to the brim. He's quite the artist himself, painting your insides one of the prettiest tints of white. You capture him in a hug, pressing your face into the open slant of his neck while he sinks in the position for a little while longer. He returns the embrace and massages at your breasts before wrapping you in a full hug, collapsing to your body.

He rearranges the stances of your bodies while in the embrace — him on the bottom, while you lay on his larger structure. Your head rests on his naked chest, tiny pants from your mouth while he is successful in catching after his own breaths; his hand in your hair, petting in comforting strokes while he presses repeated kisses to your scalp.

"How was that for you first time, love?" he asks once in breath again.

"Brutal," you said, "I liked it, though."

"Think that grenade powder had quite the effect on us," he said, "fuckin’ hell."

You nosed at his jaw, kissing at him, inhaling his scent of sweat and gunpowder — addictive. "Never knew my superior could be such a pervert just cause of a little powder."

"Not only the powder, doll," he said, "It's you."

#♡ fleur’s writings.#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #oneshot #female reader

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nicka-nell · 2 months

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omg ur taking requests!

can you do some angst to fluff with Atsumu, Iwaizumi, Suna, Kuroo, Ushijima, and Sakusa (I’m sorry if they’re too many you can choose whoever you want to write about from these characters, I luv all of them soooo much)

Can you make it like really really Angsty in the start. Like the characters doing something they’ll regret a lot and then they spend a lot of efforts making up for it? Please make it fluffy in the end, I can’t handle sad endings 😭

Also please don’t include anything with infidelity or mentions of it. My boyfriend of 3 years cheated on me last month and I’m having such a hard time.

Thank you for considering my request. And there’s no pressure to accept, I don’t mind at all.

Hi! yes I am taking requests right now. 😇 First of all, I'm so sorry that you had such a negative experience. But tbh, you're better off this way. Nobody needs such an ass cheating on them! 😔😤 My ex did that too, with my ex-best friend btw. I also had a hard time but quickly felt better because I realised that it's a waste of time to cry over such a dick. I hope you don't lose hope in a healthy relationship based on trust. There really are good people out there and I hope you find someone who can appreciate you. Sending you a lot of hugs and kisses. 🤗💚❤️‍🩹

And for your request. I've written three stories for Tsumu, Iwa and Suna. Unfortunately they got a bit tooo long for my taste, so I only made these 3. I hope that's okay. I really had problems making it super angsty (urg, I need more practice for angsty stuff 😵‍💫). As you wished, I didn't include anything with cheating (even though I had a few ideas haha.) and I also added a trigger warning before each story. I think Iwa's and Suna's in particular might be a bit darker... so you can decide on your own if you want to continue reading it or not. Anyway, I hope you still like it, and thanks for your request. Stay healthy! 🥰💚

Regretting their actions

Pairing: Atsumu x, Iwaizumi x, Suna x reader

Warning: angst to fluff, break-up (Atsumu, Suna), mention of abuse/anger issues, mention of blood (Iwaizumi), mention of abortion, mention of drugs/pills (Suna)

Part 1 | Part 2 (End)

tw: mention of break-up

You met Atsumu when he came to his brother’s onigiri store for the housewarming.

The two of you got along well quickly. And it wasn’t long before he kissed you at a party, looked at you with his cheeky grin and said, “Tastes better than a victory.”

More things happened that night. Not just simple kisses and when you woke up next to him in bed, he asked you, still sleepy: “You’re my girlfriend now, aren’t you?”

You’ve been together for several years now and were thinking about moving in together soon when Atsumu’s career suddenly took off. He was traveling abroad more often and had less time for you or looking for an apartment.

And then it happened…

You scroll through the apartment search app for something suitable for the two of you, lying on the bed while missing him terribly. You close the app to go to your messenger, only to realize that you were the one who last texted Atsumu... two days ago… Two blue check marks indicate that he has read your messages but has not replied. Your fingers hover over the keypad of your phone and you think about writing to him. Maybe he read your message during training and didn’t have time to reply. Maybe he just forgot about it afterwards... maybe...

“Hey Tsumu... I know you’re busy but, I hope you’re doing well. Love you.” you type into your phone and send the message with a strange feeling in your stomach. It doesn’t take long before you see under his name that he is online. The gray check marks next to your message turn blue, but instead of replying, you see that he went offline again. You swallow a big lump down your throat, your heart feels heavy. Maybe he can’t answer you right now... you try to convince yourself again.

Several hours pass as you sink your head into your pillow and try to stifle your tears. Atsumu’s sports t-shirt is in your arms, which he had given you before his trip abroad. Time passes and suddenly you hear the ringtone of your phone as a message arrives. Your heart hits loud against your chest as you reach for your phone and see your boyfriend’s name. But your joy quickly disappears, the lump in your throat gets bigger and you can’t breathe.

>> Hey... listen, I think it’s better if we end the relationship… break up. I don’t know, but I just don’t have time for it. I’ll see you around. <<

It feels like a slap in the face. As if this is a poor joke. You want to write to him, ask him what this is all about, but your tears blur your vision. The only thing you send is a “really?” but the message is no longer read. It remains on one gray check mark.

Two days go by and you still think it was all a bad joke, but every time you read his message, you feel like throwing up. Has he really dumped the whole relationship? By a shitty text message? You open your Instagram account and enter his name almost as if on autopilot.

Another slap in the face as your tears run down your cheeks again. His bio no longer says “Best setter and proud boyfriend” but simply “Setter MSBY Black Jackal”. All the pictures he had with you on his account have been deleted. Instead, you can only see advertising photos or private photos of him. The last eight pictures are of him, Hinata and Bokuto dancing and having fun with fans in different bars. Atsumu grins at the camera as if he doesn’t care about you at all. As if your relationship meant nothing to him.

You text him some more times, leave him voicemails because he never answers your calls. But after a few days, you let it go. It only frustrates you even more to see how little this relationship actually meant to him. For days, you cry yourself to sleep, what doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu. After all, he sees you three times a week when you help him out in his store. When you tell him what has happened, he is also speechless, because Atsumu has really pissed him off with all his raving about you. So why would he break-up with you out of the blue? Osamu can’t see you as devastated as a heap of misery. So he also tries to find out the reason for the break-up between you and his silly brother. But when he calls him, Atsumu only faces him coldly on the phone. “Did she tell you to ask me? Leave it okay? I think I just realized that I don’t want a relationship.”

Two months go by and somehow you still can’t believe that your relationship just fell apart. Osamu tries to distract you somehow, but it doesn’t help because he reminds you too much of your idiot ex-boyfriend.

Nevertheless, you are grateful to Osamu for swapping your shift with his coworker’s shift so that you can open the store with him in the morning. That way, you avoid running into Atsumu, who is more likely to be in the restaurant in the evening as soon as he returns from his stay abroad. You’re not ready to face him at the moment.

Just as you’re about to finish work, you remember that you wanted to show Osamu a video on your phone. “Look, the new trailer for the second season of this soccer series is out. Shall we watch the first episode together on Saturday after work?” you ask Osamu as he approaches you and looks over your shoulder. He rests his hand on the counter next to you, his chest almost touching your back, but he keeps his distance from you respectfully. You are both focused on the trailer, not hearing the doorbell from the store.

Atsumu is tired. The flight was delayed, and he hasn’t been able to sleep properly for weeks. How could he sleep well with all the partying and Hinata as his roommate, who spent the night in the hotel calling his friends from Karasuno. At least that’s what he tells himself… that this is the reason for his sleepless nights. But this thought vanishes when he steps into his brother’s store hungry, actually only wanting to eat a few onigiris and then go home. Into his apartment. His empty, dreary apartment. But as he walks through the door of the store, it feels as if someone has hit his chest with full force, knocking the air out of him.

He sees Osamu leaning towards you with a sense of familiarity. What’s going on there? And why does it bother him so much that you giggle and look at Osamu, who returns your gaze with a nod and a smile before turning to the door? His brother winces when he sees Atsumu. As you turn around as well, your smile disappears.

You look at Atsumu as if you’ve just seen a corpse, before packing your bag and saying goodbye to Osamu with a “See you tomorrow.”, only to walk past Atsumu with quick steps. You don’t even give him a glance, knowing that if you locked eyes with him, your tears would run. You would want to ask him questions upon questions. Why did you break up with me? Why am I not enough for you? Why did you lie to me for so long? Why...

As you walk through the door, you accidentally bump into him. This nudge, which was actually rather gentle, felt so painful. Why does it bother Atsumu to see you standing so close to his brother? Why does it hurt him that you stared at him with those empty eyes, as if he were a stranger? No. Worse, as if he were someone who had hurt you. Why does he have the feeling that he couldn’t make a sound if he opened his mouth now? The answer is simple, and even Atsumu seems to understand it by now as he looks from the now closed door over to Osamu, who stares at him with an indifferent expression crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So this is what someone who has realized that he doesn’t want a relationship looks like? Ya look like shit.”

Oh, how Atsumu would love to punch Osamu in the face. “Why are ya touchin’ my girl?” is bitter on his tongue, but he has no right to say it out loud. After all, he was the one who turned you down. The blonde Miya suddenly realizes how incredibly stupid his action was.

Back then, Atsumu had not expected to be traveling abroad so often. At first, it was only temporary stays. Nothing that would damage a relationship.

But the last few times in particular, he was sometimes away for several months. You kept telling him on the phone that everything was okay, but every time he called Osamu, he said that your eyes were sometimes red when you came to work and that you looked tired and sad.

Atsumu knew he was the reason. That you’d probably be better off without him. After all, you’re a great woman, someone who would find a new partner quickly.

You didn’t deserve to be sad all the time when he was gone. You should be happy. After all, a smile suits you so much better than a sad expression.

Atsumu would concentrate on his career. It would be difficult for him at first, but he would manage without you. He had to… for your sake.

So his mind was made up when he read your unanswered, concerned messages. If he texts you now to say that it’s over, being an ass to you, you’ll be able to forget him quickly… That was what he thought.

But it wasn’t that easy. Your puzzled messages, your crying voice on his voicemail, broke his heart. Yet he tried to cover it all up with parties and his dear fans. He convinced himself that he was fine. Only to arrive home, see you and realize what an idiot he was, how much he missed you.

And now it’s Atsumu who reaches for his phone and texts you message after message.

Atsumu 8:02 PM: Hey babe, no.. hey Y/n. I know I have no right to text you. But please… let’s talk. I fucked up. Damn, I fucked up so hard that I don’t even know how to start… shit…

Atsumu 8:12 PM: Please… please answer your phone, babe…

Atsumu 8:44 PM: I know I’ve fucked up. I know I hurt and disappointed you. Fuck, I know I was an ass. Yk, I thought I was doing the right thing.

Atsumu 9:34 PM: Fuck… please answer me… I still… damnit.

That was the last message you received from Atsumu before you put your phone away and tried to forget him. Why is he doing this to you? Why is he stirring up your feelings again?

But Atsumu doesn’t think about stopping now. He runs to your house, to the apartment building and rings your doorbell. Once, twice, he rings so often that you can’t ignore it. You are about to tell him to leave through the loudspeaker system, but he interrupts you.

“Fuck baby, please open the door. I’m… I still love ya, okay? I always loved ya. I - shit, can ya even hear me? Fuck…” he curses agitatedly and presses the bell next to your nameplate again several times.

But instead of letting him in, you go down to the entrance of the apartment building and open the door with an expression on your face that Atsumu has never seen before. What is it? Anger, sadness, despair? Everything somehow.

“Say... are you kidding me? Do you think that’s funny?” you ask him, bewildered, still standing in the open doorway. Of course, you wouldn’t just believe him. Atsumu could have guessed. Your reaction was completely understandable. But he has to do something to show you that he’s serious.

“No, no, I don’t. I’m dead serious. Please let me explain,” he says, and starts to tell you that he thought a break-up would be best for you because he’s not good enough for you. Since you were obviously so sad about him leaving so often and he didn’t want to be the reason. He tells you that he thought he could get over you, but that he had to realize that you are the most important thing to him. Something… someone he doesn’t want to lose. With shaky hands and a still agitated voice, Atsumu takes out his phone.

“I wanted ya to hate me so that it would be easier for ya. But believe me, I... I couldn’t forget ya. Look, you’re still my wallpaper. All the photos of the two of us are still on my phone, all the memories-“ he is about to unlock his screen when his phone falls out of his hand and drops to the floor. Atsumu seems to be completely overwhelmed right now, as if he doesn’t know what to do. Should he bend down, pick up the phone, should he keep talking to you or hug you? He doesn’t know.

”Baby, please, please, I’ll do anything. Please gimme a chance. I’ll talk to my agent about not takin’ so many jobs abroad. I will be with ya more often. Always write to ya and call ya in the evening when I’m not at home. Let’s look for an apartment so we can move in together. Please, please, I would do anything. Please believe me that I love ya. Please..." he begs in a voice that becomes more and more brittle with every word. His eyes are full of emotion and his hands, which have unconsciously reached for yours, are trembling terribly.

“Two months... two months you ignored me, treated me like a piece of trash.” You say in a low voice as you search for eye contact. Atsumu has never felt so scared. Only now does he realize that the love of his life is standing in front of him, and that this might be the last time he’ll see her again, the last time he’ll touch her skin. But then again… Atsumu was an ass, so why should you forgive him? No, he can’t think like that. After all, you loved him. And if you love him as much as he loves you, then maybe there’s still hope.

“I know, and I know I can never make it up to ya. I know it’s not done with an ‘I’m sorry’. I’m the dumbest, most idiotic ex-boyfriend you’ve ever had. But... I’m stubborn too. And if that means chasin’ after ya for 10 years, drivin’ to yer apartment every day to ring the doorbell and tell ya I still love ya, wishin’ ya a good night every day, nice dreams and telling ya how important you are to me... I’ll do it. Every damn day, if it means there’s still a little hope for us.” He answers you hoarsely, keeping eye contact, hoping that you see how honest his words are.

You sigh, bend down, and pick up his phone before handing it to him. Atsumu doesn’t know what to do with all this. His face grimaces as if he’s expecting the worst. “Then... you shouldn’t lose your phone... if you want to write to me every day,” you answer him, a weak smile on your lips. Atsumu’s sorrowful expression suddenly changes and you see him looking at you with hope.

“Does that mean ya...” the blonde Miya can no longer contain his emotions as he leaps forward and pulls you into his arms. His embrace is so tight that you can barely breathe, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip out of his hands. Firm, but quivering. His whole body is shaking and you’re sure you’ve just felt something wet on your skin. Tears? Is Atsumu crying? “I promise to be a pain in yer ass every day. To text ya, to call ya, to be there for ya. Even in yer sleep. Okay? I love ya... I love ya so much...”

tw: abuse, anger issues, mention of blood

You’ve been with Iwaizumi since your school days. Back then, as a little flirt at school, Oikawa and Matsukawa mainly teased Iwaizumi for having a crush on you.

But in the end, many were jealous of the perfect couple who waltzed together on the dance floor at the prom with loving looks on their faces.

You were inseparable. Even Iwaizumi’s stay in America for his university didn’t affect your relationship. So it was no wonder that you got married after his return and were the perfect happy couple.

At least for the first few years.

The stress of being a coach for the Japanese national team is weighing on Iwaizumi’s mind. He normally handles stressful situations well, but he is under pressure.

If the team fails to perform in the next few games, he will lose many sponsors and possibly even his job.

Iwaizumi is constantly on edge and you feel like you have to walk on eggshells around him so you don’t provoke him.

More often, he has sudden temper tantrums, shouting at you about things that aren’t worth mentioning. “Damn it, I told you I need this one shirt for today. Why isn’t it clean?”

And once, when you stumbled with your words and asked him whether it might not be better to take a break as a coach, he was so angry that he almost hit you. But he managed to hold back and just sighed before going out for a beer in a nearby bar.

You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but right now, you’re really scared of your own husband.

Today was another training match between the Japanese national team and the Indonesian team. The team’s performance was better, but nowhere near good enough to shine. You watched the game on TV and run through your imaginary list in your head already, of potential trigger points for Iwaizumi. You don’t want him to get upset. The laundry is done; the house is clean; the food is also ready and in the fridge. Did you take out the trash? You chew nervously on your lower lip as you walk to the kitchen and let out a relieved sigh. That’s done too.

You are just closing the lid of the garbage can when you hear the key in the lock of your front door and Iwaizumi comes home with a surprisingly normal, “I’m home, my love, smells good in here”. Your shoulders relax immediately, a smile is back on your lips as you walk cheerfully into the hallway to greet Iwaizumi.

“Hello darling! How was your day?” Iwaizumi hugs you and leans down so you can kiss his cheek. “Let me eat something first. My day has been really exhausting,” he sighs, watching you nod and turn around to warm up the food for him. Your husband hangs up his jacket, puts down his bag and is about to turn around to follow you when he stumbles against a nearby vase that you had placed as a decoration for the fall changeover. The vase swings, loses its balance and falls to the floor in pieces.

“Shit!” You hear Iwaizumi curse and immediately run to him, anxiously hoping that nothing has happened to him. But luckily, he is unharmed. “Wait, I’ll clean up the broken pieces, you eat-“ you’re about to say, but Iwaizumi interrupts you loudly. “Always this stupid bullshit you put up. Shit, I could have hurt myself. If I miss now, that’s it for my career!” he shouts and stomps past you. You turn around hastily and apologize. “That wasn’t my intention, really,” you say, before realizing that it was a mistake to talk back. Iwaizumi turns around, his eyes ferocious and angry like a wild animal as he takes a step towards you. Your heart is beating restlessly and you are suddenly afraid.

“Not your intention? Admit it, you’d be happy if I got rid of the job!” he shouts, noticing how you start to tremble and shake your head. But Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to be in his right mind as he takes another step towards you. “Go clean up the mess! Make yourself useful!” he says through gritted teeth as he looks at your anxious and puzzled face. You know you should move, but your body doesn’t seem to listen, too scared to move a finger. And then it happens.

Iwaizumi grabs you by the hair and pulls you towards him. You cry out, weeping bitterly as you hear his voice again. “Are you deaf?! Get going!” he shouts, before pushing you away with more force than necessary. You lose your balance, stumble over your own feet as you fall and hit your head on the edge of the stairs in the hallway next to the broken vase. Your head hurts terribly, something warm flows down your face, sticking to your hair and making your vision suddenly completely different. It gets smaller and smaller before everything goes black in front of your eyes and the sounds around you stop completely.

Iwaizumi is abruptly perfectly sober and only now understands what has just happened. What he has just done to you, the woman he loves more than anything.

His eyes are big as he stares at his hands, which start to tremble in front of him.

Panic spreads through him as he looks at you. At your motionless body, at all the blood under your head.

He doesn’t know how he did it. His memories are hazy, but he can still remember trying to wake you up, in vain.

He had taken off his shirt, pressed it on your head injury to stop the bleeding and somehow managed to call an ambulance. Iwaizumi can’t remember anything else, just the one question from the paramedic who put you on the ambulance stretcher and took you to the hospital. Since Iwaizumi was your husband, he was allowed to drive with you.

“How did this happen?” the paramedic asked, as Iwaizumi answered quietly, “I don’t know... I really don’t know.”

It’s now been some hours after the accident and your head had been stitched up. Thank God it wasn’t as bad as it looked at first.

You’re still in the recovery room, Iwaizumi next to your bed on a chair, his hands folded in his lap as he hangs his head in bewilderment, looking at his wedding ring shining on his ring finger.

What happened? What has become of him? He still can’t believe what he has done.

He looks at his hands again, opens them, starts to tremble, clenches them into fists and realises how he lets out a frustrated sigh, which he had been holding back, as warm tears roll down his cheeks, soaking the fabric of his trousers.

In his mind, there’s only your shaking body, that frightened look, your screaming, and then this unbearable silence.

When you open your eyes, your head throbs a little and you have to squint through the bright, clinical light. “Where... where am I?” you say quietly, looking around the room and noticing that you’re lying in a hospital room. Next to your bed is none other than Iwaizumi. But he looks different. Broken… He shrinks at your words and looks up at you. You see his red eyes and how he hesitates whether it’s okay to take your hand in his. Iwaizumi gets up from his chair, wants to close the distance to your bed but his legs collapse and he falls to his knees when he suddenly starts to... cry?

“Haji- me...” you say, still feeling exhausted. “I’m... god I...” Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to look you in the eye. He takes a deep breath, regains his courage before peering at you. Carefully, he grasps your hand, checking if you are afraid, but you don’t seem to pull it away. Maybe because you’re still too tired. Awkwardly, he strokes the back of your hand before resting his forehead on it and closing his eyes briefly.

“I’m a terrible husband. I’ve done everything I shouldn’t have done. Instead of carrying you on my hands, bringing a smile to your face and protecting you from everything that would harm you, I’ve done the exact opposite. Instead of being happy to see me, you’re just scared of me, aren’t you?” he says in a shaky voice and looks up at you again. You are calm. Just stare at him with a hurt look.

“I.... I can understand if you want a divorce. If you don’t want to be with a monster like me anymore. I really can’t even blame you. But... please let me tell you one thing. When I saw you lying on the floor like that, the world collapsed inside me. I was afraid of losing the most important thing in my life. And the most important thing is not my job, no, it’s you. And I’m ashamed that I’ve forgotten that. I am disgusted with myself and I know that is no excuse. What I have done is unforgivable. But please... if there is still a bit of hope, then I will try to do everything I can to be the man you fell in love with again. I want to be your Haji-bear again. Your place of peace, and your favorite person. I will go to anger issues therapy, behavioral therapy. If it’s better for our relationship, I’ll step down as a coach and see if I can find a job as a volleyball coach at a school. No matter what, I would do anything.” Your hand becomes wet as his tears land on it. His words move something inside you. You want to believe him, you don’t want the relationship to end either, but everything that has happened so far will not pass by without damage.

“I need time, Hajime... If you really mean it, please grant me the time...” you answer him and notice how your words seem to tear him apart. But at the same time he seems to want to make the best of the situation. He lets go of your hand and stands up just to sit back down on the chair next to your bed, looking at you determinedly, his eyes still red and swollen. “As much time as you need. If it means we still have a chance...”

A few months pass. Iwaizumi has passed on the house to you and moved into his parents’ house to give you the space you need. He goes to therapy three times a week and tells you about his progress. He is still coaching the national team, but his assistant coach is taking a lot of the work off his hands and the volleyball team seems to be playing better again.

Just like when you were at school, you’ll find a letter in your letterbox once a week. Back then, Iwaizumi always told you a bit about his week and wrote it down because, funnily enough, he was too shy to talk to you in person. Only that in his current letters he writes that he misses you, but hopes that you are doing well at the moment.

He meets you in public places, goes out with you, so that you gradually feel more comfortable with him again, that you can see his progress in therapy and don’t just think it’s empty words.

Six months have passed since the incident. You are standing in the bedroom, changing the sheets, when Iwaizumi comes through the front door of the house. “My love, I’m home,” you hear Iwaizumi’s calm voice. Coming home from his therapy session, he hangs up his jacket in the hallway as your voice lets him know where you are.

Iwaizumi puts the flowers he bought for you on the kitchen table before he sneaks into the bedroom and sees you trying to unfold the sheets to put them on the blankets. With silent steps, he reaches around your waist to throw you onto the bed with him, wrapped in the covers that were in your hands earlier. Screaming, you laugh in unison with his chuckle as you look into each other’s eyes. “Hajime! Don’t scare me like that.” you laugh softly, while his hand gently tucks your hair behind your ear. Iwaizumi looks at your forehead, at the small scar that is left from your injury, before leaning forward and giving you a kiss on that spot.

“I’m sorry, but that was just so tempting,” he says, closing his eyes as he pulls you closer and just relaxes in bed with you. He strokes your back and kisses your forehead once more. “Hajime... what’s going on? Why are you so clingy suddenly?” you laugh, but Iwaizumi doesn’t join in the laughter, instead answering you seriously.

“Today, six months ago, I almost lost you. I’m just grateful that nothing happened to you. Thankful that you gave me another chance, even though I showed my worst side.” You can’t think of the right words to answer him, so you just smile, snuggle closer to him, and close your eyes. Safe in his arms, with his pulsating heart at your ear, you fall asleep.

tw: mention of abortion, mention of drugs/pills (without consent)

Suna and you were just friends for a long time. Even if the others saw you more like a couple.

You were the only one Suna didn’t mind when you sat next to him and pulled out one of his earphones to listen to music with him.

You always had the same route to school and if one of you came to school alone, you knew immediately that the other one must be sick.

With graduation, you mentioned that you might want to study abroad. That time, Suna had a weird feeling in his stomach for the first time. As if he was afraid of losing you.

That was the day he realised that he felt more for you than just friendship.

The same evening, he asked you to come over and watch a movie when he yawned in a very clichéd way to put his arm over your shoulder and pull you closer to him. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he just was.

A number of things went through his mind. What if you don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you? Will you still want to study abroad? Would you end your friendship with him if you didn’t feel the same way?

He tried to block out the questions and then, with his usual calmness, asked you if you could imagine anything more than a friendship. Luckily for him, you said yes.

From that moment on, everything was perfect. You had created your own little world over several years. You studied, and luckily not abroad. Suna was successful in volleyball, so you were both able to buy an apartment together quickly.

Just the two of you. Your friends were there from time to time, but in the evenings you were always alone at home, arm in arm, in the quiet flat without any noise or other people to disturb you.

Until one morning where you look at the little piece of plastic in the bathroom, stunned, when the two red stripes tell you that you are pregnant.

You hadn’t spoken to Suna about having children yet, but you’ve been together for so long now and everything is going well that you assume he would be just as happy as you are.

You thought…

When Suna comes home, you’ve already prepared a little surprise. There are a pair of baby shoes on the table in the living room, the pregnancy test in front of them and a little balloon with “Best Dad” written on it. You can’t help smiling as you see Suna walk into the room when you call out “surprise”, looking a little shy in his direction. But Suna’s reaction differed from what you expected.

Almost disgusted, he looks in your direction. “This better be one of those stupid TikTok pranks, right?” he says, and your smile disappears abruptly. Your stomach turns and you feel sick. And not because of the pregnancy. You stand there irritated, only able to utter a quiet “No... it’s not a joke”, confused by his negative reaction. “No? What week are you in? Tell me you can still have an abortion...” he says, annoyed, as he walks towards the table to see if there is any information about the week of pregnancy on the pregnancy test.

“What?” you say in bewilderment, still looking at Suna, who throws the test on the table in frustration before starting to massage his temples. “We’ll go to the gynecologist tomorrow, okay? Get rid of it. A child means responsibility. You have to look after this thing all the time, you’re no longer flexible and it’s noisy too... I just don’t want that.”

His words feel like a thousand stabs. Never have you seen Suna act like this before. You anticipated that he might be a bit taken by surprise and perhaps not be able to deal with the situation at first, but Suna seems to have a very clear opinion on the subject. He doesn’t even seem to be willing to talk. But abort a child? Let Suna’s and your baby die just like that? You can’t do that. You don’t want that.

The two of argue. Suna’s look gets progressively angrier. Yours sadder until he decides to leave the house with a “Do what you want, maybe it’ll die anyway”. Now you’re home alone with his painful words. You stand rooted to the spot in the room for several more minutes until the strength in your legs finally gives way and you slump to the floor, crying bitterly. The night, you spend alone in your bed, without Suna. He doesn’t answer his phone and doesn’t reply to your messages. You don’t hear from him the next day either, and he hasn’t come home. Thank God you get a message from Osamu, who texts you that Suna is with him and that you have nothing to worry about. But how are you supposed to stay at home without worrying if your boyfriend doesn’t get in touch with you and you’ve been arguing for days? You are scared. Afraid for the baby, afraid for the relationship and everything you two have built up.

Another day passes. You lie in bed, tired and lacking in energy. Nevertheless, you pull yourself together and get up, go to the bathroom to get ready for the day and don’t notice when the front door opens and Suna walks in. “Baby doll, I’m at home... and... I’m sorry...” you hear Suna’s voice and walk out of the bathroom. Even though you had a fight, you are still happy to see the man you love so much again. With a somewhat sad smile, he stands there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he approaches you.

“I’m really sorry. I behaved like an ass. You took me by surprise with the news and somehow... I don’t know. What do you say you sit down now? I’ll make us a drink and we can talk about all this. About the baby, and what happens next?” You can hardly believe his words. What has Osamu done in the last few days to make Suna suddenly do a full turnaround and be willing to talk to you openly, without shouting about becoming a parent? You make a mental note to thank Osamu later, before nodding with a smile and sitting down on the sofa in the living room.

But what you don’t know is that Suna went to a friend, a doctor, who gave him two pills before he came home. Pills for an induction of abortion. You have to take one now and the other two to three days later.

Suna knows that you wouldn’t take these pills voluntarily.

So he makes sure that you are indeed sitting in the living room before he takes out a small bag containing a pill, puts it in the grinder and turns it into a fine powder before mixing it into your iced tea.

He takes a deep breath, putting his smile back on as he walks towards you in the living room, where you are already waiting for him with happy eyes.

Without saying much, he hands you the glass, sits down next to you and watches you.

“I know it’s all so sudden and I could have said it differently. I really took you completely by surprise with the news,” you say quietly, looking at the iced tea in your hand, unaware that an abortion pill is floating there.

Suna listens attentively as you talk about how you first had to understand what a pregnancy means, but that your overwhelm quickly turned into joy because you are looking forward to holding a mini version of the two of you in your arms in less than 9 months. You talk about all the beautiful things that are going through your head, while Suna continues to listen to you, his eyes constantly focus on the tea in your hands and you.

He keeps looking at you as you raise the glass and press it to your lips, ready to drink the poison cocktail, when he realizes what he was doing. What he’s trying to do here.

Panic strikes him. His green eyes widen as he literally knocks the cup out of your hand. It falls to the floor with a loud thud. “Don’t drink that!” he says in an unsteady voice and looks at you in horror.

But you don’t understand anything, only shake your head.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I... I think I just made the worst mistake of my life,” Suna says, looking back from you to the broken cup. You don’t understand what’s going on and tilt your head, asking him if everything is all right. But when Suna continues talking and tells you what was in your tea, your world collapses. You are shocked that your own boyfriend wanted to do this to you. “I was overwhelmed. I... I know that’s no excuse. But when I heard you talking, I realized that -“ Suna wanted to continue, but your voice cut him off, your words silenced him.

“Let’s break up,” you say, and unlike before, unlike when you argued a week ago, your voice is determined now, your eyes full of pain and betrayal. Those green eyes that used to mesmerize you are now looking at you desperately. “What?” Suna whispers softly, followed by a “No, wait”. But you interrupt him again.

“You just wanted to give me some drugs without my consent so I’d lose the baby?! No, Rintarou… I’m breaking up with you. That... no, I can’t do that.” Abruptly, you get up from the sofa, ignoring the hand that tries to grab you before quickly slipping into a jacket and a pair of shoes just to leave the apartment. Suna wants to run after you, but his legs won’t move. His mind and heart are screaming to run after you, to stop you and tell you he’s sorry, but his body just won’t obey him. When he finally manages to get up, you’re already gone.

Still wearing his slippers and without putting on a jacket, he eventually runs out to check out all the places you love, all your friends, to see if he can find you somewhere. But no matter where he looks, he can’t find you. You don’t reply to messages or phone calls. The mechanical voice of your voice mail greets him directly. “Shit, shit, shit!” he yells as he stands in the park where you two had your first official date. The surrounding people look at him. Some with an irritated look, some as if they were pitying him.

Without really knowing where to go, your legs automatically led you to the bus that goes to Kita’s home.

Kita was one of your best friends back then. And you knew that if you went to Kita and told him not to tell Suna that you were there, he wouldn’t tell his friend either. And that’s exactly what Kita did.

You were in Kita’s guest room when you heard Suna’s voice in the hallway.

He sounded shattered, broken, as he begged Kita to tell him where you were.

This went on for several weeks, until one evening Suna rang the doorbell again, trying to talk to Kita in a voice you had never heard before.

His voice was so thin, so fragile, as if a heap of misery was speaking out of him.

Kita tells him once again that he doesn’t know where you are when you hesitantly open the door, thinking about going downstairs and listening to what Suna has to say. But for now, you just listen to the conversation.

“Please, Shinsuke, I know you know her location. Please, just give her this. Please...” Kita sighs, followed by a soft “ok...” before the front door closes. Your best friend’s footsteps creak beneath the floor as he walks up the stairs, looks at you a little twisted and hands you a large package.

You know that you demand a lot from Kita. It’s not easy for him to lie to his friend either. Eventually you have to talk to Suna.

Alone in your guest room, you spend almost half an hour looking at the unopened package at the other end of the bed until you finally decide to open it. When you see what’s inside, surprise catches you. Multiple emotions flow through your body without you even noticing how your eyes suddenly turn glassy. Small letters and several items are in the box. You take out the letter that is on top of all the other items.

“My love, I don’t even know where to start. I can’t apologize for what I did. Nevertheless, I want to tell you that I’m sorry. I was confused and scared. Our relationship has always been perfect so far and I thought it was great that it was just the two of us and that no one else disturbed our privacy. I was afraid that when we had a child, we would argue, have no more time for each other, and grow apart. I was selfish and didn’t think about how you would feel. I wasn’t thinking about our baby. The thought that we were both going to be parents hadn’t crossed my mind at all. But every time I walked past those little shoes you had placed in the living room, I couldn’t think of anything else but seeing our child standing in them. How it tries to move around in it, sometimes falls down because it loses its balance and seeks shelter with its beloved mom. I regret every second of what I’ve done, every word I’ve said. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do, and yet I did it. I am sorry. I am so terribly sorry.

I did some research. Did you know that it is currently very difficult to find midwives? You should probably start looking very early on. My team colleague gave me the number of the midwife he and his wife had at the birth of their two children. I also have three other numbers. You might want to give them a call. There are also birth preparation classes in our town. I have also put a brochure in the package for you. You don’t necessarily have to go there with your partner. With me… So... if you want, you could also go there with Kita, even if I would be happy if we both did it together. But I can understand if you don’t want to.

Are you eating enough? You should pay particular attention to your diet during pregnancy. A lot of women suffer from a vitamin deficiency during pregnancy. But you have probably already discussed this with your gynecologist. Anyway, I’ve written down a few recipes for you that are rich in vitamins. I admit that Osamu helped me a little with this. Oh, and on the back are some things you shouldn’t eat during pregnancy. Raw eggs and products containing them such as ice cream, mayonnaise and so on... you should not eat them, because the risk of salmonella infection is high. Peanuts can contain aflatoxins, which can also harm the fetus... but as I said, I’ve put together a list for you. In case you didn’t already know all this already. There are a few other things in the box. Maybe you’d like to take a look.

I hope you are doing well. I hope the baby is doing well too. Have you thought of a name yet? Do you know whether it will be a boy or a girl? I’m sure there’s already a little bump on your belly. I... would really like to be with you right now. Would love to hold you in my arms and stroke your tummy. I know I made a mistake that can never be fixed. But if you’re willing, if that’s what you want, I’d really like to be by your side again. And if not as your boyfriend, then as the father of our baby. I would like to do couples’ therapy with you so that we can find our way back to each other… So that you can trust me again. Because in all of this, I was the problem and never you. But only if you want it too, of course. I know it may be hard to believe, but I love you. So much that a life without you scares me. I am sorry…”

You’re crying bitterly by now as your tears blur the ink on the letter before you put it aside and look in the box. Next to a small onesie for babies, there is a note with the telephone numbers of midwives, a small book with recipes, the brochure he had mentioned and another box containing photos and memories. Pictures that Suna had always secretly taken of you at times when he thought you looked extra pretty. You always found the photos embarrassing, but for him they were beautiful to look at. Because they were moments when you were just being you, not smiling for the camera or doing anything else to disguise yourself.

There was also a necklace with shells on it in the box. You made it for Suna when you were on vacation in Croatia. It turned out incredibly ugly, yet Suna wore it proudly during the whole vacation. You’re touched that he still has this ugly necklace. Little notes that you wrote to each other at school are also in there. So many more memories from the past. Where had Suna hidden this little box in your apartment so that you never noticed it?

You hastily get up, open the door and run down to the hallway as Kita comes out of the living room and looks at you questioningly. “Is everything all right? Do you need to see a doctor?” He asks concerned, but you just shake your head, wanting nothing more than to see Suna, talk to him again. He asks you if you are absolutely sure, but your determined nod is enough for an answer. So he grabs his jacket and car keys, driving you straight to your ex boyfriend, to your apartment. He doesn’t want you to take the bus in your current state.

Suna is sitting in the living room. In front of him on the coffee table are various reports on pregnancy, parenting and more. His head is leaning on his hands as he takes a deep breath. Have you opened his package yet? He wonders, unable to think clearly, when he hears the key in the door lock and runs into the hallway as if stung by a tarantula. His eyes are wide as he looks at you, standing rooted to the spot in the doorway, not knowing how to react.

“Shinsuke... Drove me here...” you say. “I opened your package.” You continue, watching Suna swallow hard, still not moving an inch from the doorframe. “How are you, the baby?” he asks quietly, almost absent-mindedly, as if he can’t believe you’re really standing in front of him. “Good... can... can we talk?” you ask and watch him nod, having trouble sorting out his feelings. You take a step towards him, clearly seeing the dark circles, the red eyes, the slightly thinner face, as if he has lost weight. And on closer look, you can see his whole body trembling.

“Is everything you wrote in your letter true?” you ask him, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible, even though you’re at your wits’ end. “Yes, yes all of it. I’m sorry for everything... I want nothing more than to see you happy. To see our baby happy. And if you want another partner by your side to be happy, if you don’t want me in your life, then I will accept that.” Suna whispers, knowing that if he were to speak even a little louder, his voice would fail and he would cry. You take another step towards him. “What if I want you? Want to give it another try?” You have barely spoken your sentence before you hear a bitter shuffle from Suna, which he seems to have been suppressing the whole time. His shaky hands carefully reach for your face before he presses his forehead against yours and says softly, “I would wish for nothing more than that.”

Although you hesitate for a second, you finally put your hands around his back and stand with him in the doorway for a while. Neither of you says a word. Both of you let your tears run until Suna releases you at some point and gives you a kiss on the forehead. “You shouldn’t stand for so long. You’d better get some rest,” he says in a somewhat steady voice before helping you out of your jacket and leading you into the bedroom, where he pushes the sheets aside so you can lie down.

“Rin, but I’m not tired at all...” you say, even though you are exhausted, but Suna lies down right next to you, pulling you close while his free hand moves to your stomach. “I know... But... let’s just lie here like this for a moment, regain our strength before we talk... Talk about everything, our future, how I can make it up to you, our little baby… Agree, baby doll?” He whispers tiredly. Yet you also notice how all the crying is slowly making you a little tired. “Agree, Rin.” you smile weakly, snuggling closer to him as you both fall asleep arm in arm, his hand protectively on your baby bump, your hand on his.

#haikyu x #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #suna x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader #atsumu miya x reader #suna rintarou x reader

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dead-boys-club · 2 months

Text

† kisses : shigaraki.

❥ scenario: kissing tomura. ❥ no triggers; not rated. ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested! it is a whole mess.

✧*̥˚ some stuff *̥˚✧

tomura comes off as a rather aloof person; someone with many walls and deep rooted trust issues. so, if you're kissing me, we can already assume your relationship to him is one build over a good amount of time. it would be a very, very intensely personal experience for him. he's not used to physical touch by any means, so it would put him in an almost awkward mindset. he probably wouldn't fully know how to process being so.. ( god, i use this word a lot, i'm sorry ) vulnerable and close.

kissing him would be soft and slow. he would be hesitant, like you were something fragile, also trying not to fuck something up. he's navigating something new, so it would take time for him to get the hang of it. and, it would make him smile - which is a feat all in it's own. he would show you this small, gentle smile; a genuine expression of warmth and adoration that's incredibly rare.

i can't even put into words how soft this man would be over kisses. and, he's not going to be picky once he gets the hang of it. he would really, really enjoy:

moth kisses

forehead kisses

jaw kisses

slow make out sessions

in the beginning, he would ( idk, is this surprising? ) not be in control of shit. he would actually hand the reigns over to you and enjoy the ride.

the thing is, he's a really good kisser???? because any time he kisses you, he's kissing you like it's the very last time. he's got a hand on the back of your neck, fingers settled against when your hair stops, just.. drowning in the intimacy of the moment. his other hand gripping onto your shirt at your side - he'd have hell letting go.

he's obsessed. and, honestly, unless he's in a foul mood, it's the best way to distract or help him feel better. though, i should add, i feel as though he'd become just a tad bit clingy towards you once you made it to this level of intimacy.

if i keep going, i'm going to go down a rabbit hole of trapping him on the couch and kissing him til neither of you can breathe, SO - i'm going to slide down into a scenario.

✧*̥˚ tiny things *̥˚✧

❥ moth kisses: ( so, do you remember the last time we actually saw him play a game? no? me either but- ) moth kisses are mostly to attempt to annoy him, which.. may only actually work once or twice. the type of kisses you give when interrupting him. when you just cup his face and kiss all over, quickly, not giving him a chance to do anything about it.

❥ forehead kisses: god, please, give him forehead kisses. he really appreciates them in the morning or before bed, the way you brush his hair aside and linger for a moment. i feel like this is a gesture that really makes him understand that you're there for a reason. and you're genuine.

❥ jaw kisses: when he's working on things, you generally know better than to fuck with him too much. so, as you're tucked up beside him, that's when you nose and press little kisses to his jaw. you try not to jostle him too much.

❥ temple kisses +: this is more of something he does for you. because it starts as temple kisses, his eyes closed as he layers kisses over the spot for a few seconds. he'll slowly move down until he's nosing at the spot behind your earlobe, either humming or whispering little things. very much a private moment that no one else sees.

❥ the aforementioned slow make outs: usually when this happens, he's either tired or it started because he was in a shit mood. he likes how it starts as just small kisses and then turns into closing his eyes, lungs clenching, need building but it's still going so slowly, it's nearly killing him.

❥ the one time you almost died: because it was in the middle of a fight. it wasn't your fault that when you caught his gaze, you both seemed to stop. however, when you plant an unexpected kiss on his lips before disappearing into the fray once more, he's briefly distracted and a little agitated. you were being reckless but fuck if he didn't continue on with wanting more of you.

✧*̥˚ first kiss *̥˚✧

withdrawn.

that was somewhat normal but he seemed even further gone than usual. his responsibilities and the pressure on his shoulders, it was starting to wear on him and you could see it. the way he sank into the arm chair, picking at the hem and staring off into space. it wasn't something you enjoyed seeing.

you shift from your spot by the doorway, approaching to settle on the armrest of his chair, lifting his hand into your hold. a few minutes past in silence, neither of you feeling the need to say anything. you could see some sense of helplessness behind his eyes, making you frown and squeeze his hand. he didn't pull away despite how he flinched, fingers curling into the touch.

'tomura..' you said softly, not really know what could be said in the moment, considering he'd never done too well with encouraging talk. 'i'm here, you know?'

it took him a second before his head turned, guarded expression briefly flickering to give way to something softer. he didn't say anything, gratitude seen in his gaze. it wasn't hard to identify the conflict going on behind his eyes, something you knew you couldn't do much to fix or aid in. the most you could do was attempt to distract.

you didn't think about it too much, or at all, when you began to lean closer, the distance between you shrinking quicker than your mind could keep up. you were really leaning far too close into the personal space of one of the most dangerous men you knew and couldn't really stop. your heart felt like it was in your throat the moment your lips pressed against his own. the kiss was tender and hesitant, lasting only for a moment.

when you pulled back, you weren't sure how to act. his eyes were slightly wide with bewilderment, frozen and free hand anchoring him to reality with it's grip to the armchair. 'why...?' he began, barely above a whisper, not trusting his voice. you could hear the confusion, clear as day, but beneath it - there was something else. the smallest note of longing.

his voice completely erased the mild panic that had grown and you just smiled, light and careful. 'because you matter to me? because i adore you. and, i want to be there for you.. in any way that i can be.'

you weren't expecting to make a confession and he surely wasn't expecting to receive one. thankfully, he didn't respond to that. 'thank you,' was all he managed to get out, taking in the words and warmth that spread through him at the kiss.

the room fell quiet once more, though the atmosphere shifted into something new. there was a newfound understanding created from the simple, yet profound, moment of intimacy.

and, it would only grow from that moment on.

#mha #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha imagine #mha x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #bnha

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noxturnals-void · 2 months

Text

Slashers with an s/o that has scars

Characters include:

Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Michael Myers, Jesse Cromeans, Asa Emory

———————————————————————————

Tw: scars, mentions of abuse, mentions of self-harm, toxic relationships, mentions of death/murder, characters being their questionable selves

(The scars are a mix of self-harm and abuse)

This is just a big mix of comfort imagines.

Feel free to add your own thoughts/ideas.

———————————————————————————

Jason Voorhees:

He’s confused when he first sees the marks on your arms and legs. Were you in an accident of some kind? You’d never mentioned anything of the sort before.

He won’t bring it up until he sees more across your shoulders and back.

It takes a long, very awkward conversation on your part to explain when he expresses worry toward the marks on your body.

He understands what abuse is, but mainly in the form of bullying. Having to explain abuse at the hands of people you trusted was much different in his mind.

He’s absolutely heartbroken. How could anyone have hurt you like this?

He will bury the anger he has toward the people who hurt you, very gently pulling you into a hug and squeezing you to his chest.

That’s all in the past now. He’s here. He would never, ever let anything like that happen to you again.

Thomas Hewitt:

Oh, he knows.

He could tell the moment he laid eyes on you that you were just like him. Hiding your arms away and recoiling from anyone who got too close.

He tries not to make a big deal of it. They look old, so he won’t mention it.

That is, until he catches you changing one day. He sees the collection of deep marks across your back. He’s not stupid, he knows you didn’t do those yourself.

This time, he does bring it up. He’s not judgemental. He understands, probably better than anyone in his family.

When you feel comfortable, you share what happened to you.

He doesn’t push for details. He has enough imagination and his own experiences to supplement any information you decide to give.

He just pats you on the head, grunting low. His way of telling you it’s okay. You’re safe from those people.

You’re part of his family now, after all. He will protect you.

Bo Sinclair:

It doesn’t take long for him to notice.

Unlike him, you don’t hide your scars very well.

Maybe it’s because you don’t mind that he sees. Perhaps it’s because you sometimes forget they are part of you. He doesn’t know.

He asks about the scars the next time you two are alone. It catches you so far off guard you freeze.

You explain, trying not to go into too much detail. Someone you trusted hurt you in an unrepairable way. That was something he could understand.

He gets upset on your behalf, something in your story triggering a part of him he thought he’d buried deep down enough not to deal with anymore.

He doesn’t get sappy about his own scars, but he’ll show them to you in an effort to sympathize.

You’re not alone in your feelings. He reassures you that everything will be alright and that it wasn’t your fault. He’ll watch out for you now.

Vincent Sinclair:

He first saw the scars when you posed for him for a quick sketch.

He was tactful, pointing out the marks in a subtle way. When you don’t quite understand what he’s getting at (thinking you might be posing wrong or something), he walks over and uses his wax-coated hands to investigate your skin.

Was it some type of accident? Had someone done this to you? His blood boiled at even the thought of someone hurting you.

When you opened up about the backstory to your scars, he withheld his emotions from your eyes. He was angry, of course. He wanted to hurt the people who had hurt you.

He holds you in his lap as he continues with his sketch. He doesn’t truly need you to pose for him. Your shape is already burned into the depths of his memory.

He gently massages his hand over the scars on your arms and legs while his other hand sketches.

It’s the closest he can get to telling you how perfect you are. You’re his muse. His heart.

He will never let you feel unprotected. He’ll keep you safe.

Lester Sinclair:

Poor guy is so awkward about bringing it up.

He noticed the marks littering your body some time ago but never dared to ask.

He was already pretty sure of the answer, but he preferred to hear your side of the story before making any assumptions.

Your story breaks his heart little by little. He cries for you, grieved you had gone through what you had.

He holds you, telling you you’re perfect and didn’t deserve what had happened to you. He’s so sorry you went through it.

He’ll whisper affirmations to you for as long as you let him. He is here for you now. You are not alone anymore. It is all in the past.

He’s got you, and he’s never gonna let you go.

Michael Myers:

He likely won’t point them out.

He knows, of course. You’ve changed clothes in front of him on more than one occasion.

Sometimes, if he’s got the mask off, you might catch him staring. Otherwise, you can feel his eyes trace the pattern of marks over your body.

When you talk about it, he listens. He might not sympathize or react emotionally like others do to your story, but he does listen. He does care.

No one but him is allowed to hurt you. The rage of someone else laying their hands on you has him itching for his knife.

Someone you trusted hurt you? What’s their name?You mention a location they frequented in the past. Got it.

He’ll hunt them down within the week.

You won’t question the blood on him when he comes home late a few days later.

He holds you close that night, not allowing you to move from his side until dawn.

You’ll understand his unusually clingy behavior when you hear about a recent murder on the news.

You’re his. They can’t hurt you anymore.

Jesse Cromeans:

He sees the marks across your arms one evening.

His phone drones a partially insensitive joke about the scars, but he sees the way you react to them being mentioned and leaves it be.

He doesn’t talk about them again until you’re ready.

He has a big ego on him, but that doesn’t mean he will force it out of you.

When you do tell him what happened to you, he’s furious. Someone hurt his favorite little piggy?

He’s going to hunt them down. Spann is already in the process of finding their address.

They won’t get a video, though. This isn’t a film; this is revenge.

When everything is said and done, he’s going on a shopping spree. A big bouquet of your favorite flowers, all your favorite treats, and your favorite series/movie in the disc player ready for a long night in.

You’re blissfully unaware of what has happened to cause this treatment, and he will keep it that way.

From then on, he reminds you that your scars do not change how he feels about you. You’re perfect. He made sure they won’t ever harm you again.

Asa Emory:

He’s scarily observant. It didn’t take him long at all to find out.

He asks directly, lacking a certain amount of tact someone else might deploy for this kind of conversation. He’s not one for beating around the bush verbally.

He’s surprisingly understanding when you tell him about your past abuse. He experienced similar things in his youth. He won’t share, of course.

He doesn’t use your scars against you like he would if it were something else deeply personal.

Usually, he’d discover a pressure point such as this and use it to manipulate you subtly. This is not a pressure point he will use often, if at all.

You’re his now. You belong to him in every sense of the word. Whatever scars you gain now will be from him and only him, and only when they’re done intentionally.

You’re his favorite pet in the collection. The marks across your body don’t detract from your value in his eyes.

He will create masterful works of art out of your past, enmeshing it with your future with him.

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farfromstrange · 2 months

Text

Enduring | Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Warnings: Angst, chronic (lower abdominal) pain, mentions of spotting (blood), self-loathing, allusions to Doctors Not Listening To Patients With A Uterus, health anxiety (warranted), non-sexual intimacy, hurt/comfort, self-indulgent, not proof-read

Summary: You’ve been experiencing chronic lower abdominal pain for years regardless of the point in your menstrual cycle. Some days, it’s worse than others, but when the first heatwave of the year hits New York City and you have another flare-up, your day takes a sudden turn for the worse. Thankfully, Matt is there to comfort you in any way he can.

WC: 3k

A/n: Even though I tagged my tag list, don't read if this could be triggering to you! So, I know pain is a very sensitive subject and everyone experiences it differently. I used my personal experience with pain and chasing a diagnosis to write this. That doesn’t mean it’s the only experience. Lower abdominal pain can have many causes, which is why advice from a medical professional is often necessary. That being said, I know how hard it can be to have been born into a female body and be treated like my pain is worth less for whatever reason just because I was born female. There is no shame in standing up for yourself in a man’s world that completely disregards women’s health. I had to learn it the hard way to the point it has taken a toll on my mental health, so I just needed to write a little comfort piece for my own peace of mind before my appointment on Monday. I wrote this for the sake of getting it out of my system, meaning it’s probably not perfect, but if you can relate to what I said in any way, feel free to read it and make up your own mind. (I will not be posting this on AO3 for now. I hope you can forgive me for that.)

Matt always knows when something is wrong with you.

Sometimes, he can smell it. Other times, it’s the way you taste when you kiss him or the sweat that clings to your skin, or when he goes down on you and your essence is slightly tangier than it was the day before.

Matt knows when you’re ovulating because the changes in your hormones make him go crazier than he already is for you, and he is familiar with the metallic scent of blood when you’re on your period. He can tell when you start sweating more often, when your muscles tense up more than usual, or when you are slightly more emotional. He knows before you even do because he has to.

You are miserable almost every day, really, but more often than not it happens around the time of your period. So, he pays close attention to the signs. When the painkillers stop working, or when you get more tired, or when you stop moving around as much. When you tell him you’re fine even though he can feel the muscles of your abdomen tensing under his touch when he hugs you. When he can tell you have been crying and he wasn’t there to help. He has to know because you need him.

You’re not entirely dependent on him, of course; you have lived on your own before and while it was hell, you pushed through somehow. With him, you don’t have to be alone on the days you can’t get out of bed because the pain keeps you locked in a fetal position, or on the days you have to cower on the bathroom floor until you’re too weak to move. Matt has reached a point of knowing you where his four working senses don’t play much of a role in telling what kind of a day you’re having; he just knows.

Tonight, he senses it when he comes through the door after work, finally escaping the raging heat from the streets that made him feel like he was dying on the commute home. He instantly loosens his tie to get some air into his lungs, feeble fingers working desperately to free himself, but it doesn’t take a second longer for him to realize something is wrong. It is nothing but a mere hunch—some kind of aura that emits from somewhere in the apartment that makes the hairs on his arms stand up. He calls your name, frantically searching for your heartbeat. Through the rattling of the fridge as it tries to keep up with the rising temperatures inside, he makes out the rapid drumming of your heart against your ribcage. If you’re not dizzy yet, he thinks, you soon will be.

Upon hearing you huff from the kitchen floor, Matt doesn’t hesitate tossing his bag mindlessly into the nearest corner, followed by his keys before he makes his way to find you. He’s overheated, itchy, and sweating through his clothes, but not anywhere near as desperate as he is to get to you.

“Sweetheart?” he asks.

Hearing the sound of his voice, you realize that what felt like five minutes must have been hours spent on the cool kitchen floor. You can’t even remember how you got there. The hours have blended into minutes, the tiles digging into your sweat-coated skin. You’re curled up in a ball, wearing nothing but one of Matt’s loosest shirts. You couldn’t stand the feeling of a waistband around your stomach, so you took your pants off, changing into the oldest pair of cotton underwear you could find. It’s all soaked by now, and part of you wonders if you did finally get your period or if your pores just decided to drench you for the fun of it.

Everything hurts. Your muscles are tense, yet at the same time they are so incredibly weak, you don’t react when the front door opens. He’s worried, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It is as though the pain has made you entirely apathetic, coiling in your lower stomach and spreading into your legs like a parasite. All you can do is succumb to it.

Matt’s feet come into view. The purple cast of the billboard outside falls upon him, painting the shadow of a halo above his head. It’s ironic, really; the man you love as your knight in shining armor, a Catholic looking like an angel in artificial neon light.

His gentle voice reaches for you, “What’re you doing on the floor?”

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay because he knows it is futile, but even that question you don’t know how to answer. What are you doing on the dirty kitchen floor?

You clear your throat, trying to sound nonchalant when you answer, “It’s too hot up there.”

He crouches down. “Just too hot?”

You sigh. “No.”

It was a good day until it wasn’t, and then you were in pain again and all the days you spent feeling a little more like yourself are suddenly gone with the wind. The tears wrap a noose around your neck for the second time today, your eyes burning with faint resistance. Every time you think it gets better, it gets worse again. And every time you try to pretend that maybe things are looking up for you and it isn’t as endless of a pit as you thought, the exact opposite proves itself. You’re tired; you’re in pain and you’re tired and you feel so silly for letting it dim the light Natt pointed out a few days ago that he had so deeply missed, but there is only so much hope you can have.

This isn’t the first time he has found you like this, but it truly never gets easier. Hearing the strain in your voice, the quiver in your entire being as you try to catch your breath, telling yourself not to fucking cry. It never gets easier to know how much you beat yourself up for something that isn’t your fault. Because the doctors that were supposed to listen failed you, and now the road to relief is paved with bricks you can barely climb over. You are on your way now, finally, but the future is still not certain. In the end though, what kills him the most is that he can’t help you.

Matt reaches out, his hand shaking as he aimlessly brushes his fingers over your forehead. “Cramps?” he says.

You nod weakly.

“Since when?”

“I don’t know,” you confess, and that is when the glass overflows.

With a click of his tongue, he wipes the first of your tears away. His brown eyes bore into your soul, completely bare in front of him. Your body is like a complex crafted melody only he knows how to decipher.

The tears quickly form a barrier between you and the tiles. Matt tilts his head. The faintest hint of copper clings to your skin. “Did you get your period?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Just… some spotting.”

“Explains the blood.”

He is way too nonchalant about it, you think. The way he accepts your version of normal even though you feel like a failure trapped in a body that refuses to work like it is supposed to.

“How’d you get here?” he asks again, his voice so soft you want nothing more than to hide your face from him and cry some more.

He refuses to let you go, gripping your chin to the point it almost hurts. “I was trying to do the dishes and then–” a broken sob gets stuck in your throat. “It hurts and it’s hot, and I can’t breathe.”

He gently cradles your face in his hands. “I know,” he says like he can read your mind. And maybe he can.

Your chest heaves with every breath you take. “I couldn’t stand anymore, so I laid down. On the floor,” you tell him. “I just… I didn’t get anything done today.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does. I–”

He cuts you off, “No, sweetie, it doesn’t. I can wash the dishes, but I can’t replace you.”

His dedication hurts. You used to be called sensitive and not worth the drama, but with him, you count, and that hurts because you are barely hanging on by a fragile thread. You don’t know how to ever give back to him what he has given you. The countless nights you patched him up after he got his ass handed to him do not seem to matter much compared to what he does for you.

He studies your erratic heartbeat for a moment. “You want a heating pad?” he offers.

You physically cringe at the thought of a hot water bottle when the entire city could function as one, and you are quick to deny, “Too hot.”

Matt chuckles. “Yeah, I figured.” He brushes a damp strand of hair away from your face. “Have you taken anything yet? Advil? Naproxen?”

You growl. “You know none of the pills they gave me fucking work!”

He doesn’t seem deterred by your tone. All he does is smile softly at you, fingers tracing invisible patterns on your skin.

“I know,” he says. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, nothing’s helping,” you retort.

“That why you’re lying on the floor?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek and past your cracked lips. “I told you. Nothing helps.”

Snapping at him for only trying to care may be petty of you, but there is nothing you loathe more than feeling so utterly helpless.

Matt moves closer, your words pearling off of him like he is made of stone. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Can I try something else?”

The voice in your head is screaming, what else is there to do? You are tired of trying everything and nothing ever working. Two more weeks until you will meet with a new doctor, but those two weeks might actually kill you. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

He sighs, “C’mere.” Without another word from you, Matt slides his arms under your sticky frame and lifts you off the ground. His skin offers a stark contrast from the cold kitchen tiles, but he’s clean, and he smells like home. Not this place, not this city, but him.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Bathroom,” is all he tells you.

Your brain is too slow to even dare protest. He carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on unsteady legs.

“May I?” he asks. You nod, but even as he pulls his shirt over your head, he doesn’t once let go of you.

You close your eyes. The pain in your abdomen is dull yet searing. You try to focus on anything else, but just when you think it’s getting better, it breaks through again, burning through you like a wildfire on the blade of a hot knife. And that makes you sad. It makes you so sad and angry you don’t know what to do with yourself. You want to scream and cry and tear the apartment apart, but you’re exhausted and tired and you know that if this pain keeps rippling through you, you might fall apart.

You hate when he sees you like this. When you’re falling apart and there’s nothing either of you can do, and you blame yourself even though there is nothing to blame yourself for. Matt knows that. You sometimes wonder if you are a burden to him and he just won’t tell you because he doesn’t know when to stop. To stop caring, to stop helping, to stop trying to change everything. But then again, he has always told you that loving you isn’t a burden. If you get lost in the what ifs, you might actually fall apart.

“I’m gonna start a cool bath,” Matt murmurs next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts with his gentle baritone of a voice. “Just stay here.”

You nod weakly, too exhausted to argue. The thought of immersing yourself in cool water, even for a few minutes, seems like a small mercy.

Water starts to run in the distance. His belt hits the floor, followed by the fabric clinging to his skin. You’re afraid you might get dizzy if you open your eyes. Dizzy because of the pain. Dizzy because of him.

The cabinet behind you rattles when he reaches for it. “Claire gave them to me, but you took these before,” he says, skillfully working on the cap of an orange capsule. “They’re a bit stronger than Advil.”

You don’t protest, you simply let him place one of the pills in the palm of your hand. He is right behind you with his hand on your waist when you take them, swallowing with a handful of water. There’s nothing sexual in the way he touches you, just a tenderness born from years of knowing each other’s bodies inside and out.

Maybe that is why you could never be a burden to him; he has felt like one for most of his life, and the last thing he wants is for his love to feel the same way. And he needs you to remind him that he is everything to you, too, his hands never wavering when they find your skin. You’re his lifeline as much as he is yours.

The cold water hits the inside of the bathtub, pattering down like raindrops on a windowpane. Matt gently tugs you closer to him and guides you toward the tub. At first, when he lifts you in, the cool water is a shock to your overheated skin, but it doesn’t take long for you to welcome the change in temperature.

He eases you between his legs once he is sat, your back against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. His hands come to rest on your lower stomach, close enough to allow you to pull your legs up to your chest. It’s the only position that doesn’t hurt.

You remember nights spent crammed in the same position, not because of you but because of his nightmares. The roles were reversed then. When it’s too hot outside, he needs the world on fire to burn a little less bright. Today, you finally realize what he must feel like on days like these.

“How’s that?” he asks, his breath warm against your ear.

You nod. “Better,” you whisper. Better isn’t perfect, but the pain is just dull now, and the gentle movement of his fingers against your sore muscles lulls you into a state where you can breathe. It’s not perfect, but it is as good as it gets.

Your head falls back against his collarbone. “Thank you,” your voice is barely above a whisper when you tell him.

He shushes you, lips moving to your temple. The gesture is supposed to say, don’t thank me. But it feels wrong not to.

You lift your head enough to look at him, finally, your eyes fluttering open to look back into his hazel orbs. “Matt…”

“Yeah?” he breathes.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” you confess. It’s a truth you’ve grappled with, the stark realization that his presence has become indispensable. It is a burden, to be loved so fiercely, as much as it is an addiction. Because a life without him seems like a sheer impossibility you don’t ever want to face again.

Matt holds his lips against your skin, smiling. “Good thing you never have to find out, hm?”

You chuckle weakly. “You sure about that?”

“Mhm.”

“What if you get sick of me?”

“Then I’ll be sick of you for a few hours,” he says, “and you’ll be sick of me ‘til we’re not.”

Your eyes roam his face for any indication that he might not be telling the truth. “That easy?” you ask.

He nods, fingers coming up to find your lips. He touches them for a moment, exploring the soft skin there. Instead of kissing you though, he halts.

“What?” You frown.

Matt shakes his head. “Nothing. Just… You’re gonna be okay,” his voice is barely above a whisper. “I’ll make sure of that.”

A whimper breaks from your chest. He believes it wholeheartedly, but it is incredibly hard to hear it out loud because you don’t believe it. You press your lips together, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over again. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way,” you whisper. “I wish I could be… normal.”

Again, he nods, fingers brushing over your cheek to catch a stray tear. “You are normal,” he insists softly. “Your pain doesn’t make you any less. And ‘cause I know how strong you are, I know you’re gonna be okay.”

“Even if I’ll be ill for the rest of my life? Even if I–”

“Of course,” he stops you. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. I promise. Not ‘even if’ but regardless of whether it’s endometriosis or… or something else. Your pain is a part of you, but it’s not all of you. I love all of you.”

There is no stopping the avalanche of tears that is forced down the hill by his words. They hit you harder than an arrow to the heart.

You crack under the weight of your emotions. “I love you,” you whisper. Those three words mean the world, but they feel inadequate to describe what you feel.

“I know,” says Matt. “I love you too.”

The once open wounds of the blood you shed just to find him are nothing but scars now—scars you can learn how to live with once you accept that there is nothing wrong with you. Being a human being with an illness, both mentally and physically, doesn’t make you any less worthy of love. It doesn’t make you any less worthy of life.

With Matt by your side, you are no longer alone in this. You have him, all of him, and that makes all the difference.

Matt Murdock (Angst) Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @abucketofweird

Also tagging: @moncherriis

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #hurt/comfort #charlie cox #chronic pain

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Text

Yandere Buddy Daddies x Delinquent Teen Reader (1)

You’re home was on the streets

Practically abandoned by your parents, you relied on one of the local gangs for your family

Working to join them for some semblance of protection against the world

And as it would happen it helped

Despite your teachers and guardian-having friends warning otherwise

Thanks to them you were eating

A far cry from what you were left to before

But past aside your doing well

Gaining experience and becoming more of an asset to the gang before your saddled with an unlikely obstacle

“Hi there! My name’s Miri, what’s your name?”

Suddenly this bubbly smiley kid is following you around

Somehow finding you in dark alleyways and shadows of buildings

This kid just won’t leave you alone

No matter how much you reprimand, sneer, or blatantly insult this kid

“Kid! Didn’t I tell you to kick rocks? Now if you don’t leave I’ll steal your shoes.”

“W-what, don’t take my shoes my papas got them for me!”

“Then. Leave. Me. Alone.”

she just won’t leave you alone and it all comes to a head when she approaches you when your with your friends

“Well well look at this little tyke!”

“Oh my gosh, they're so small! (Y/n) I didn’t know you had a baby sister!”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah! My name’s Miri.”

And despite your protests they all invite pressure Miri to join you all on a…midnight stroll

Along a train track

It goes as expected and your crew successfully go along the train track until you hear the dreaded sound of the train

And as it would have it Miri’s shoes get caught

“Is everyone off the tracks?”

“Whooo that was close!”

“Where’s Miri?”

Your group resigns to stand by and watch horrified as she struggles with the track and the oncoming train approaches

Way too close to the train you’re able to yank Miri from the tracks narrowly missing the train hurling by

“Whoa that was clo–”

“See what happens?”

“What? What are you talk–”

“See what happens when you hang around me?!”

“W-what but I love be–”

“You! Almost died! Can’t you see?! You don’t belong here so GO! Go home before you really get hurt.”

She goes home that day with tears in her eyes

While you wordlessly turn back to your group to head back to base

hoping that you don’t see her ever again

For awhile you don’t and things are back to normal

And while you’re spray painting the gang’s sign on a wall a burly woman knocks you to the ground

“Hey watch it, punk!”

“You wanna go pipsqueak!”

Apparently she was from a rival gang, looking to contest this area

Sending a quick call to your team, you prepare to fight this lady

Narrowly ducking her first punch

You throw your own

Standing victorious as she buckles

But you too would fall to your knees

after a whopping hit in the back of your head

It was an ambush

And easily you found yourself at their mercy

Only being released when you hear the separate thuds and the released grip from your arms

“What the–ooomf!”

Your original attacker is silenced by a guy with blonde hair

Who punches them into a headlock before pulling a gun with silencer

“H-hey-”

Before you could stop him he pulled the trigger, nonchalantly reaching to the sky in a stretch

“Ah man after so long it seems I’ve still got it!”

You shakily stand holding your arm that stings in pain

You try to limp away while he continues flexing

But he notices

“Ah ah! (Y/n) don’t run away!”

You sneered, “How do you know my name?”

“Uh…not important. But look, you need to come home with me! Miri misses-”

“Ugh are you Miri’s daddy or something?”

“Papa actually–” “Look old man, what I said to your kid is true. She needs to stay far away from me and you know what? Maybe you should try watching her better.”

“We did. And we were.”

The tired voice was right above you

Close enough to your back that you could now register the warmth teeming off them

You jump, despite the pain you back away against the brick wall

The man that spoke had black hair pulled back to reveal a pale guy with a grave look on his face

“Ah-! What he means is: we’ve been watching after you and Mirin. And we’ve decided that we’re going to be the papas you need!”

“What?!”

“Ahem we’ve decided–” “You're coming with us.”

“What?! Huh?!”

“Rei! You can’t just say that they're not going to understand!”

“They’ll understand better when we get them home.”

“No no but there’s a method for these things and with someone of their age–”

The blonde kept talking to the one identified as Rei seemingly dividing their attention

You took the chance to limp as far as you could away reaching into your pocket to retrieve your last line of defense

“That’s enough of that.”

In a flash of black your pocket knife was out of your hand

Briefly squealing in pain at the pressure point being hit near your neck

Slumping into Rei’s arms he moved to cradle you rolling his eyes at Kazuki’s musings

“Rei!? They obviously weren’t ready!”

“They would’ve never been ready.”

“But we did the whole save-them-be-the-saviors-routine!”

“Does it really matter now that we have them?”

“...Mmmm….Mmmmm!...I still would’ve preferred my way.”

The sounds of tires screeching and the sound of modded engines coming to halt

Had them both perking up

“Oh! Those bad influences actually came!”

“That was unexpected. The broken brakes should have kept them busy.”

“Now here’s the question: do we handle them now or later?”

“Did you throw your back out yet?”

“Hah! Not yet, yours?”

“...”

“Then I say we give ‘em a show!”

When you next awake

You’re in a well furnished room

All patched up and nursing a sling for your arm

Immediately you get up finding yourself at the top of the stairs before you spotted them

“Hiii (Y/n)!!!” “Ah, good morning (Y/n) did you sleep well?”

There words don’t reach you as you register the blonde man from before and the little girl who’d been following you around

Why were they acting so calm?

They kidnapped you!

And the little girl was in on it too?

“Welp, we're heading out for preschool.”

“Yup bye (Y/n) later I can’t wait to cele–mmmf!”

The blonde’s hand goes over her mouth sending her to get her shoes before waving to you

“I’ll be back soon! Breakfast is on the counter!”

Not long after they disappeared from sight you heard the slam of the door

Good now you can–

“Going to have breakfeast?”

Once again that voice rang from behind you

Turning to see the same man with the grave face but this time with scruffier-relaxed look to him

His eyes were still intense and they held you in place all the way to the kitchen

While eating some regretfully delicious french toast with Rei watching diligently

Guess this was your life now…the newest unwilling addition to the family

#yandere buddy daddys #yandere rei suwa #yandere buddy daddies #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere buddy daddies x teen delinquent reader #yandere kazuki kurusu #yandere harem #yandere family

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astrobolical · 1 year

Text

How likely to bite are the brothers?

Content Warnings: ns.fw, marking, mentions of semi-public sex, the boys absolutely go into heat/rut so mentions of that but not a lot, Mammon being needy, Levi’s insecurities, mentions of bleeding (light), a lot of biting, Minors DNI

Reader: Gender Neutral

Characters: Beelzebub, Leviathan, Lucifer, Mammon, Belphegor, Asmodeus, Satan

I absolutely adore fangs, so biting follows shortly after. I couldn’t stop thinking about how likely the boys are to bite. Let me preface this, though they all absolutely bite. It’s really a matter of how often and when. They would adore marking up their partner, knowing that anyone that sees them just KNOWS that it was them.

Ahh… maybe I should extend this to the others?

This is in order of least frequent to most frequent biters!

Beelzebub is always so mindful of you it’s difficult for him to give into that urge— he knows how powerful his jaw is, how much damage his teeth could do to you with ease. Due to this, while he would love to leave you with marks that’ll last for days to come he often restrains himself even in intimate situations.

Sometimes, though, he simply can’t help himself, biting down on your exposed skin— any that he can get his mouth on. It’s usually your hand or wrist when you’re handing something to him, or holding his hand. He loves seeing the red imprint of his sharp teeth, proud of his restraint that he didn’t break your skin, and that you’ve got a mark that’ll tell others you’re his.

It doesn’t matter where you are when he does give in— you could be conversing with someone, just walking by him, anywhere. Sometimes he just needs to know you’re his and be possessive of you.

During more intimate moments, when he’s got you pressed down into whatever surface is available (he prefers his bed, sometimes it’s not available due to his shared room, though… it’s not like Belphie would wake up, and you both know that from experience) he is a bit more likely to lick and bite at your shoulders and neck.

If he’s really into it (especially if he’s in his rut) he’ll leave you littered with bruising bites, some bleeding, that’ll take weeks to fully heal. Anywhere his teeth could reach while he had you beneath him. He’ll feel guilty afterwards, and tend to you carefully, but deep down there’s a sense of pride and elation. How much you trust him, knowing what he’s capable of, warms his heart.

If you display his marks openly you’ll have a blushing, happy Beel. He’ll kiss them when he has you close— so while they might not always be there, when they are they mean a lot between the two of you.

Leviathan has a hard time allowing himself to, though for different reasons than his younger brother. Levi feels as though he doesn’t deserve to taint your flesh with his tongue or teeth, he worries and frets that you’d resent him for it, even if he’s been reassured countless times before.

Most likely you’ll find yourself being bitten if Levi is feeling insecure that you’re actually his— which is a mild contradiction in his mind that leaves him extremely flustered. If you’ve been talking just a little too much with Satan lately, or helping Lucifer more than normal, you’ll come back to Leviathan looking at you with a strange sort of hunger. If you get closer to him when he’s like this, you’ll inevitably have him subconsciously mouthing at your body— sometimes even over your clothing if it’s in the way of where he wants to be.

Part of him wants to push you away (like he thinks you want) and the other is pulling you closer, nestling his face into the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent and leaving his own behind. Even if he becomes distracted with games or an anime, you won’t be leaving him, and he’ll be nipping at you the entire time. His marks are much more light, but due to how easily you can trigger his envy they’re a bit more often renewed.

When you first became intimate with Leviathan he was entirely submissive, following your lead and rarely taking full initiative so during that stage he very, very rarely had the mind to bite you. However with time and experience he becomes more confident — or when he’s just lustfully driven— he becomes far more likely to nip. His favorite place to bite during this (and in general) is the back of your neck. He loves pushing you up against any surface available, especially the tank in his room whether you’re in or out of the water, and fucking you from behind. His jaw will lock on and leave a nasty-looking bite from how tightly he held on, each individual tooth having its own visible place.

Displaying his bites will leave Levi a blushing mess, stuttering and mumbling until he accepts that you want people to know that he bit you. If he hears you actually tell someone it was his mark he might actually stop functioning for a while— but he likes it, don’t get the wrong idea.

Lucifer has no issues with marking your body as his, however he rarely gives in to impulse. His bites are planned, he’s aware of every movement and knows where and when he intends to. However he, unlike most of his brothers, is fairly respectful of your own outward appearance— it’s not very often he bites you where others can readily see. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he’s extremely proud of you and has no shame in marking you up for other demons and people to see, it’s just that he knows that sometimes visible bites are more of a nuisance to you.

However he’s not opposed to staking a claim. If he feels as though he needs to, Lucifer will steal your breath away, distracting you with his hands and kisses before leaving a large, prominent bite on your neck or even your collarbone (he has a particular fondness for your collarbones).

Most of your marks, though, are hidden away in far more personal areas that he is very prideful to have access to whenever he so desires. Your thighs, especially your inner thighs, are left with bruises and marks whenever he has the time to properly attend to you. Seeing his own lingering marks the next time he has you fills him with a surge of pride and lust— those places are his.

He isn’t immune to lust, especially when his mind is addled by ruts. During those times he’ll even use his sharp nails to trace patterns on your skin, but you can be sure there’ll be a few very visible, magic-imbued bite marks on your neck and shoulders. You’ll have everyone turning their heads warily as they subtly sense Lucifer in your presence. You’ll reek of him, you’ll feel like his magic and he adores it.

Flaunt his mark if he gives you a visible one, even hearing you tell someone how your thighs are a little sore will have his ego soar. You’ll feel his gaze on you, and you can almost tell he’s thinking about where he’ll mark you up next.

Mammon bites absentmindedly, while the two of you are lounging around, or you’re just a little closer to him than normal. He doesn’t think about it, he rarely even realizes he’s doing it unless someone points it out or you take your arm/leg/body away. If you or someone else does mention it, he’ll adamantly deny that he was doing it, even if he obviously was— so if you enjoy his attention, don’t. His absentminded bites don’t often leave marks, but it happens frequently enough (and publicly enough) that people would be blind to not realize you’re special to him.

Every time he’s laying around with you especially, if your arm is in reach you’ll feel his teeth gnaw on your skin.

If he does clue in during these moments, though, if he doesn’t immediately drop you and deny it, he’ll often get a bit more brazen— the fact you were allowing him to will rile him up. If you’re in private, it will certainly lead to Mammon either pinning you to whatever surface you were on, or pulling you to settle on his lap, lazily grinding up into you. Even in semi-private areas where someone may walk in on you, Mammon can’t resist bringing you closer— it’s up to you if you let him continue in that scenario.

He does leave lasting marks when he fucks you, biting down to muffle his own noises as he thrusts into you. He tends to latch onto one spot for a while, biting and licking and whimpering into the skin. When you ride him you can sometimes escape it, but even then he might bite down on your hand or arm, whatever is available. Mammon, like Lucifer, also tends to leave a bit of his magic in the bites, just enough to make other demons wary of you when you’re around.

If you show off Mammon’s marks, even accidentally, he can be a bit insufferable to everyone around him. His are very hard to hide, given where he likes to leave them, so just give him that ego boost— he needs it sometimes. He’ll be sure to let any demon, human or angel that so much glances at his marks know that you’re his, because he’s your first man after all.

His marks do tend to fade the quickest, though. Whether it’s because of their usual placement or because he doesn’t bite quite as hard as the others it’s hard to tell.

Belphegor is a frequent biter on many occasions— especially when he’s asleep beside you. While not all the time, sometimes you’ll wake to Belphegor biting at you, digging his nails into your sides. You’re not safe from this demon’s fangs even at rest. He’ll halfheartedly apologize to you when he notices upon waking, but you know he doesn’t mean it, whatever he was dreaming that caused it certainly wasn’t something he was about to regret. Besides, you look so pretty marked up like that he can’t help but add to it now that he’s awake.

He often bites you in very obvious places that would be hard to hide or to not notice. He does it with a sly, knowing grin and sassy remarks about how the whole Devildom will know where he’s been. Belphegor’s bites aren’t impulse, they're almost brutally intentional just because he wants to see what fuss he can cause— and, most importantly, to make it very, very known that you belong to him.

It could be anywhere, as well, the youngest doesn’t care who sees him sink his fangs in, or what anyone says. (Of course, if you are adamantly against it, he’ll refrain from being too public, even if he’s a brat about it.)

When Belphie’s buried inside of you, lazily and teasingly thrusting ever-so-slowly he makes up for it with his mouth. You tend to be on your side when being intimate with him, often just waking up from naps and he’s far too tired to move about needlessly, so your neck and shoulders are available for him to bite down on at his leisure. Sometimes your back, shoulder blades or collarbone don’t escape him, either, depending on which side he’s on.

He loves how you shiver when his breath ghosts over your skin, just above a still-sensitive bite as he slows his pace down even further until you’re a whining mess begging him to speed up. Telling you to keep begging for him, just like that before biting down on your throat and listening to the garbled mess of a moan that tumbles past your lips.

You will reek of him and his magic every time, and that sly smirk of his as you catch his eye lets you know that he thinks it’s time he refreshes it once again.

Asmodeus bites, but not usually hard enough to leave a lasting mark— he would never damage your beautiful skin… most times. His bites are playful, or sometimes attention seeking. He uses it as a means to grab your attention from whatever it is you’re doing— whether you’re just browsing on your D.D.D. or talking with someone else, it doesn’t matter. He’ll quickly nip your ear, dragging his teeth to make sure your attention is fully on him, as it should be.

They’re frequent, regardless of where they are, whether he’s just passing you in the hall, sneaking up behind you just to continue on his way, he makes sure you know he was there— as if you’d ever not notice Asmodeus.

Sometimes his kisses turn into little nips on your lips, your ear, your jaw, it doesn’t matter— anywhere on your face is where he wants to bite. He’s particularly bitey around his brothers, as they often draw you away from him. He’ll bring you into his arms, nuzzling against you before making sure they clearly see what he’s doing.

Similar to Lucifer, if Asmodeus is going to leave a lasting bite, it’s going to be someplace only for his eyes, where you can hide the ‘blemish’ beneath your clothes and reveal it only to him. He has a habit of leaving quite the mark on your butt as he worships your body, you always tense as he nears the area, knowing that your demon will likely bite down hard enough to make you bleed for him. He knows, and soothes you every time as he licks the blood from his lips, admiring his work and feeling his own lust grow tenfold just from that.

Unlike his brothers, Asmodeus could care less if you have marks to show from him, you have the demon himself to show off— why would you need a simple bite mark? So while his bites are frequent, it’s his presence and scent that really matters to Asmo— he just wants to be with you, and surely you want to be with him, too, right?

Though, he won’t complain if you actually explain why it is that you’re sitting a little funny the next day, he’ll simply smile and nuzzle into you, nipping at your ear like usual.

Satan’s bite is, however much he denies it, territorial in nature. His demonic instincts are stronger than his brothers’, and it is all he’s ever really known. Unlike them, he won’t restrain those instincts, and sees nothing wrong with it. He bites the most out of any of his brothers because of this, whether in greeting, passively, or because he wants to make it known that someone or something is getting too close for his liking— anything and everything can constitute a bite from him, so it’s something to be prepared for.

He can restrain himself if you yourself don’t like it, but it’s obvious he would rather give in to those instincts, so it’s more than likely you’ll allow it anyway. Your neck is typically where he’ll leave them the most, at least one that’s always visible. His magic might as well be yours, with how much he pushes into each indent his teeth make, and it’s notable how lesser demons quickly make way thinking he’s approaching when it’s only you.

Where, when, and who may be around are trivial to him.

However not all of his bites are for marking his territory, sometimes it is similar to Asmo when he just wants your focus to be on him, or when he’s showing you affection. Satan is arguably the most animalistic of them all, and it shows in how physical he can be with you.

While he may be public with his affections at times, it has backfired on him here and there with his temper, so when he is really craving your affection he will often pull you away to somewhere more private to make sure his time with you isn’t interrupted by a tantrum.

When intimate you can expect to be absolutely littered with marks from his nails and teeth — and even his tail, which digs in with its sharp edges as it clings to you. Anywhere from your calf to your chest, just let him worship you. Your chest in particular is never safe from Satan, even when he’s thrown your legs over his shoulders and is pressing you down into whatever surface you happened to be on.

When he’s rutting, Satan may not even know how he’s manhandled you, lost to the foggy lust in his mind and how good you feel— don’t worry, he’ll make up for it once he’s regained clarity, tending to all the bites he’s left along your body with surprising care. You’re his, and he’ll always care for you.

Displaying his marks is usually unavoidable, and it’s probably for the best, he hates when someone’s eyes linger on you for too long, so his magic and the proof that you’re his usually eases some of that instinct to protect you. If you make a point to parade around Lucifer in particular, though… oh, you’ll make Satan very happy, and he’ll be happy to reward you for your efforts.

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ellana-ravenwood · 2 years

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“I HATE YOU !” - Batfam/Batkids x fem!reader/Batmom

Synopsis : Not everything is always made of sunshines and rainbows. Sometimes, things go wrong. Sometimes, your children lash out at you, and scream : “I hate you !” before storming off...A story about how you handle those burst of anger from each of your kids, over the span of a few years.

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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DICK

"I HATE YOU !!”

He screams, running off and closing the door behind him violently.

BANG !!

You’re not sure that “bang” is the sound of the door slamming, or your heart breaking.

This was the first time your child said something so hurtful to you. And it was quite a shock. You weren’t sure how to react.

As if moved by instinct, Bruce immediately moved next to you, and put an arm around your shoulder, as if to shield you from the hurt. It was only a little bit comforting...

When he was younger, Dick struggled greatly with his anger. He had trouble managing it, and it’s only after a big fight with Bruce, and some times apart, that he truly started to understand himself, and become the man he was now.

The reason he left with the Titans, and then later, left for Bludhaven...was his mismanaged anger. And it was also yours and Bruce’s fault. You were still new parents, you were still learning, you didn’t always have the best reactions.

Bruce would react with anger too, which he knew now was the worst thing he could do. But to his defense (and you would always defend him), he was also just processing his trauma, and trying to navigate how to “tackle” his son’s own traumatic experience. He wasn’t sure how to act, with that kid.

He was too strict, he expected too much, because he wanted Dick to NOT reiterate his own mistakes. He wanted his boy to feel better, to be able to be happy...something he thought he could never be again, before meeting you.

It took a very long time for Bruce, to get out of this dark pit he buried himself in. He didn’t want Dick to take the same path. He wanted him to NOT be a second “Batman”. He wanted him to be his own man.

Which lead to a lot of mistakes. But hey, you couldn’t be a perfect parent all the time. And let’s admit it, Dick wasn’t always easy to handle. Especially during his fits of anger, which he sometimes had when he was young, and which slowly disappeared during his teenage years (although even today, if you truly managed to make him angry, he could get quite scary...Ah, but like father like son).

You didn’t even remember why he told you “I hate you”, it was all a blur now, years later. But you remember how you felt.

Heartbroken, like you failed as a parent. As if you weren’t enough for that little boy, who had lost everything and was “forced” to become part of your family.

That simple “I hate you” had triggered so many questions in yours and Bruce’s mind. How could you react ? Not like he gave you the time to, as he left the room right away.

What was the right reaction ? What if he did truly hate you ? What could you do to salvage this relationship ? What-

You were both so lost.

You would do many more mistakes as parents, but that day-

That day, things got resolved on their own, as Dick came back a few moments later, with an apologetic look on his face.

It was clear he wanted to pretend nothing had happened. Yet, that child had already a lot more emotional intelligence than most, and instead of ignoring everything, he just said :

“You know I love you, right ?”

And that was the end of it. And a first step to understand an important, and key thing about raising a child : sometimes, they WILL lash out at you. And say they hate you. But they never truly mean it. It’s just a way of processing an overwhelming amount of negative emotions. A way to protect themselves.

“I hate you.”, often comes from the opposite feeling. They love you so much, but they’re angry, and they think of the first thing that could hurt you and-

Dick never said it again after that. In fact, it was almost a biggest traumatic experience to him, than it was to you. Because he hated feeling this ugly things, and he hated hurting others, especially not those he loved. “I hate you”, were words he never meant towards anyone. He felt so bad, about telling them to you and Bruce, who took him in as your own child.

But beyond that, what made him entirely stop even thinking about saying that again. Beyond that, he never said it again, even when he fought with his dad, because he knew. He never crossed that limit again, because he knew. Him most of everyone, knew. Life was so short, and what if the last thing he told you or Bruce was : “I hate you ?”

He could never forgive himself. And for him too, this was an important step. One step closer, to controlling his anger, to understand himself, to let himself feel, and explain his feelings.

Yes. This first “I hate you”, was an important moment for all of you. Parents, and child. A first stone set upon a building, that would grow each year. A first experience showing that not everything could be perfect, and that mistakes would be made.

But as long as you were there for each others, and as long as you knew that no matter what, you would always love one another...You’d pull through the hardest times.

JASON

Talking about the hardest of times.

Jason was a good kid. He never once told you he hated you, before his death. On the contrary. The boy never shied away from expressing his feelings.

He would outright tell you and Bruce, that he loved you. He would show you by countless kind acts towards you two, that he was the happiest he’s ever been, since you adopted him.

Finally. Finally he felt safe and loved. Finally he had an actual family, people who cared about him...Why would he tell them that he hated them ?

No. Never would it have come to Jason’s mind to use those words towards you.

Oh, oh but after his death ? After his traumatic resurrection ? After he came back to Gotham City, only to find out you not only “replaced” him (his feelings towards Tim at first were...complicated), but you also never killed that hateful clown ??

Jason hated you. He hated you so much.

But it was because he loved you. He always worshipped you and his dad, viewed you as those perfect beings who saved him from a life of misery. This was probably “his” first mistake...Nobody was perfect.

But in Jason’s eyes, his mom and dad were. You and Bruce.

And so when he came back, and neither of you avenged his death, he felt so hurt that-

“I hate you.”

Those words, he said them a lot. In total contrast of him before the “incident”, before it all went to sh-.

“I hope you know I hate you. So much. I wish I had never met you.”

He wasn’t “half-assing” it, Dick would say. No. He definitely went “full ass” on you and Bruce, not hesitating for a second to express his high level of anger towards you two.

And the worst ? Neither of you were mad at him for it, on the contrary. His words summed up years of your life. Years of you two hating yourselves for not being able to save your son, and not having the guts to go through with it concerning “The Joker”.

You didn’t even think about defending yourselves. You understood how hurt he was. You-You deserved his anger. You deserved his hate.

Ah, but Jason never really truly hated you. Deep down, his harsh words were born from feeling hurt and rejected.

You two were the only persons who ever made Jason feel safe. When he came back, and saw you “moved on”, that you weren’t mourning him anymore (which wasn’t true, it might’ve appeared like that for the sake of Dick and Tim, but neither you nor Bruce could ever heal from one of your children’s death, the wound would always bleed), and that you didn’t take revenge-

He felt like it had all been fake. Like you never loved him. Like you lied to him, all those times you called him your son, or when you told him you loved him, and that he meant so much to you.

Jason hated you, because he thought you never loved him. How ironic, right ?

Thinking back to it, maybe you should’ve been more obvious with your feelings. Tell him since the first day you realized he came back, that you loved him, and that living without him was torture.

That losing him was unbearable, and that you and Bruce almost broke for good (but had to be strong for the rest of the family).

Maybe, you should’ve told him everything right away. And not let his anger fester. Not let him say more and more “I hate you”s. Maybe...

Ah, but it was easy, to look back at an event and think : “what if ?”.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. You were so shocked by Jason’s anger towards you, and thought so much you deserved it, that you didn’t immediately tell him how you truly felt.

And it took all of you so much time, to finally talk. To finally understand each other. To finally forgive. Jason, to forgive you. You and Bruce, to forgive yourselves.

So much wasted time...

Jason would always regret how he told you many times he hated you. Because it was never true. What he wanted to hear, in answer to those words, was : “I love you.”...He just didn’t know how to process all his emotions.

And you would always regret that it took you so damn long to finally chase after your son, and make sure he knew you loved him. Make sure he knew he meant everything to you.

It wasn’t a work you did alone. Thanks god for Alfred, Dick, and even Tim.

And thanks god for Jason’s strength, for how he was able to forgive, even as he-

Yes. This would be a great source of regret for all of you. Maybe that was why, nowadays, Jason would NEVER shy away (once more) to say “I love you mom”, and why you made sure you told him, and showed him your love, every chance you got...

TIM

Even the most loving, sweetest kids, sometimes say hurtful things.

Tim was one of those adorable children, who always wanted to help, whom you could always count on, but who would hide away his feelings too much for his own good, and would eventually break.

“When coming from a child in whom there is generally a love-based relationship, ‘I hate you’ is a normal part of emotional and psychological development”, said a psychotherapist to you once (mental health issues were given a very important place, in the Wayne’s household...None of you ever felt ashamed of needing a little professional help at times).

You experienced it with Dick and Jason. You knew it would eventually happen with Tim. Especially since he could be a little emotionally stunted at times.

Tim wanted SO MUCH to help, and to save everyone, and to be there for the one he loved...he would often burry his own feelings, and pretend everything was ok. And sometimes, like a volcano, he would explose.

Like today. But you were expecting it.

It hadn’t been long since, unfortunately, Conner passed away.

Conner Kent was an important person for your family. You always adored the kid (and he was the source of the very few fights you had with Clark, as you hated how he initially treated the boy). But he was probably the most important to your Tim.

Although he never admitted it by then, you were pretty sure your son was in love with Superboy. That they weren’t only the best of friends. And you were pretty sure Conner shared his feelings...

But now, now they could never truly talk about it.

Because Conner was gone. And he wasn’t coming back (A/N : yeah you know, comics, so we know he’ll eventually come back, but for the drama of it all, it seemed at the time that he wasn’t going to).

It was hard for your son to process that. He became even more obsessed with his “work”, skipping school to spend all his time on his vigilante cases.

And that day, he had skipped school once too many, and you and Bruce decided you would ground him. Forbid him, for a little while, to go out as Red Robin. And-

And that probably wasn’t your best idea. Probably wasn’t how you should’ve handled that at the time. Punishing him wasn’t the way to go, you knew that now. Oh, but it was easy, when you had the few steps back years later, to realize your mistake. On the moment though, it seemed like the only thing to do to save your son from dying out of exhaustion.

His reaction was both expected, and unexpected.

You knew he would snap at some point. You just didn’t expect him to snap because he was grounded...

“I HATE YOU !!” He screamed, truly angry, throwing a book across the room.

But you knew. You knew he didn’t hate you. He was hurt, and sad, and he didn’t know how to handle all his emotions.

He didn’t hate you, he hated himself.

He hated himself for not being able to save his friend. To save the man he loved. To-

Tim always made it his mission, to save everyone. Especially those close to his heart. And so this, was a failure he had a hard time handling.

It translated in that “I hate you” he threw your way.

But you knew. You knew how he felt.

“Well, it’s too bad, because I love you.”

You answered, and you could see he was taken aback by this. You could see he was struggling with himself, and wasn’t sure what to say.

“I love you, Tim. I love you so much.”

Tears. Welling up on the corner of his eyes. And then it was another kind of volcano erupting...

All sign of anger disappeared, as he collapsed in your arms, and finally-

Finally let himself mourn the death of his best friend, and first love.

DAMIAN

It happened not long after your youngest boy came into your life.

Damian had disappointed his dad. He knew it. He had killed a man, because he thought it was the only way to stop him from hurting his family.

It came from a good intention. He wanted to stop someone from arming his loved ones. He wanted to permanently make sure that person wouldn’t come back one day, and kill his dad, his siblings, or you (he hadn’t yet came to call you “mom”, but it would come soon).

It came from good intentions.

He wanted to protect. And the only way he was taught how to do that, while in the League of Shadows, was to kill. Because, what was more permanent than death ? What would assure your safety, but to kill the danger ?

But your son knew. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do that anymore. He knew his father expected him to do better. He knew...Yet he hadn’t been able to control himself. And he was feeling really bad about it.

Of course, Bruce would forgive him. Would not give up on him. But still, Damian disappointed him. He disappointed you. Or so he thought, at least.

He was feeling so bad about himself...And here it came.

Instead of expressing his feelings about all of that, instead of putting into words, or in drawing form for example (his go-to way to express himself), he lashed out.

And unfortunately, you were in his way. He turned his negative feelings towards you, but you weren’t about to let him run with it.

Damian wasn’t your first child. You had dealt with the “I hate you” phrase before, hell you even had to go through the very painful “You’re not my REAL mom” one (you can read this in that story : “You’re not my real mom”)...You more or less knew how to handle it now.

An immediate emotional response would only make it worst. And so, as Damian yells :

“I HATE YOU !!” at you, after you tried to talk to him about what he did (you wanted to comfort him, he took it the wrong way...which could happen with anyone), you took a deep breath.

You stayed silent for a few seconds. And then you looked at him right in the eyes, and said :

“No, I’m sorry. You may not speak this way to me. Let’s try to calm down first and then get to the bottom of what is going on. I can tell you are feeling very stressed, angry, overwhelmed. I can imagine a lot is going on and it’s making you feel such strong emotions inside, emotions of 'hate.' You probably feel you hate everything, all the things you need to do and all the stuff 'we' make you do. It’s hard. I know. Let’s talk about it.”

Damian was stunned. He did not expect this response. He thought you would hate him in return, or be mad at him.

“Hating me or using those words to express your anger is not going to help you fix how you’re feeling. It may make you feel 'good' in the moment of saying it, but not later. You will likely feel regret, feel sorry, feel bad. That doesn’t feel good. So, no saying that. But let’s talk about all the stress you feel. Let’s talk about your feelings, Damian. Please. Tell me what’s wrong, and how we can fix it."

Damian wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t.

He had never been taught to accept failure. Nobody ever told him it was ok to not feel well. Nobody- Nobody ever expressed understanding towards him.

He felt his throat choking up. He felt tears coming to his eyes. He felt-

He turned away from you, still use to hide those feelings. Still used to not show any sign of weakness. He turned away- But you delicately caught his chin in your hand, and turned his face back to you.

And in your eyes...In your eyes, he could see that you wouldn’t give up on him. That you wouldn’t turn away, even as he made mistakes. That you were here for him. That you-

That day, you received from him a hug. The very first hug he ever gave you. And of course, you answered it by wrapping him in your own arms.

And Damian felt safe. Wanted. Loved. And he heard himself spill everything to you. He heard himself talk to you about his worries, about how he hated himself, about-

Everything.

He told you everything. And most of all, he told you that of course, he didn’t hate you. He could never hate you.

CASS

Cass wanted to hurt you. She was so angry, frustrated and upset, that her next few words were specifically aimed at hurting your feelings :

“I hate you.”

She says flatly, yet in a very definite tone. She knows what she’s doing, and she knows she’ll most likely regret it later. But right now, blinded by rage, she says those dreadful words anyway.

Unfortunately for Cass, by now, you knew that when one of your children lashed out at you in that way, they didn’t truly mean it. You and Alfred came to an analogy, for when your kids would suddenly want to hurt you with their words :

They were like a tea kettle.

In that way, that when the water's boiling, the kettle sings, and is too hot to handle. It takes time for the water to get back to room temperature. Right ? Well, when their water was too hot, they simply couldn’t think clearly anymore, as they entered fight or flight mode. Which is why they reflexively use the hate word, to "protect" themselves from their vulnerable feelings.

Right now, Cass’ water was way too hot, for reasons that honestly wouldn’t matter anymore in a few hours. And so she said : “I hate you.”

Step by step. A deep breath. A small silence. And then you say :

"No, you don’t hate me. But I know that at times we don’t see eye to eye or it feels I am in your way or that I don’t understand. You’re right, I don’t always understand, but I want to. Sometimes, I am in your way, simply because I am still raising you. It’s OK if you don’t always agree with me. My job is not for us to agree on everything but to hopefully provide you with what you need for a few more years until you’ll take care of yourself all on your own."

This seems to fuel her rage even more. How dare you be understanding, while she’s trying to hurt you ? How dare you answer her bile with kind words ?

"I get that you’re angry but hate is not the way to label that or express that. I want us to be able to discuss our differences and even teach each other things. I also want to hear what you have to say. So, no more saying, 'I hate you’, regardless of how angry, frustrated, or stressed you feel. From now on, you will just tell me about your feelings and I will listen. Alright ?'

Not alright. At least for her, in that moment. Instead of talking, she glares at you, turn around, and leaves, slamming the door behind her, with all her might. Too angry to listen, or to talk. And you know what ? It was ok.

It was ok, if things weren’t immediately resolved in the moment. You had learned that, over the years. It was ok, if right now, she was not willing to talk it out. To explain. To release her anger. She just needed time. And that was ok.

And so you let her storm off, and waited.

You didn’t have to wait for very long. A few hours later, she came back to you. Looking ashamed, and sad.

Ah, but you made sure she had nothing to feel ashamed off. It was ok to be angry, it was ok to not know how to handle one’s own emotions. It was a good learning process, wasn’t it ?

“Sorry.”

She told you, and what else was there to do, but to take her into your arms ?

DUKE

“I hate you..”

Duke whispers, and although you know he doesn’t mean it, your heart still squeeze in that very uncomfortable way...

But you understood. You understood.

You and Bruce just signed official papers to make him your son, as his parents weren’t getting any better, and it was clearer and clearer they would never heal from what the Joker did to them.

But Duke still had hope. He still thought they could be saved. And he held onto that hope, even as he slowly settled in his life at Wayne Manor. Even as, despite himself, he slowly started to see you and Bruce as his second parents.

And here you were, sighing adoption papers, making it official that his parents would never be the same ever again.

To him, you were representing his shattered hopes. He had truly lost his parents...

Of course, he would “hate” you in that moment. Of course. But by then, you were used to your children not being well, and lashing out their negative feelings at you. So you start by saying :

"There is a lot going in your life and I can understand how sometimes you just want nothing to do with any of it, and that-”

“DON’T ACT AS IF YOU UNDERSTAND !”

He does not let you finish, and his whispers turn into screams. He feels so angry, so lost, so desperate. His last hope of having his parents again is gone, and you’re trying to comfort him ??

Proof that, even after decades of being a parent, you don’t always have the right words, or you don’t always do the right thing to soothe your child.

You take a step back, a deep breath, and-

You don’t say anything. This wasn’t the “I hate you” screamed because you told him “no” about something. This was the “I hate you” born from utter desperation and sadness. He still didn’t mean it. But he needed to say it.

So you let him.

You feel Bruce’s hand on your back, as per usual, your husband is always near for you. You’re stronger, together. He’s your rock, you’re his pillar.

Together, you can face this. You can go through it because you know you have support. You know he’s going to be there for you, and you for him. It makes things so much easier, to know there’s at least one constant in your life...

You don’t say anything, and you let Duke tell you a few more times that he hates you. You let him leave the court, and run off on his own. You’re worried, of course, but you know-

You know he needs the time alone. You know he needs to process things, alone. You know he’ll come back to you, once he’ll feel ready.

And so for now, you and Bruce wait. His arms around you, yours holding him. Comforting each other with your mere presence. His fingers massaging your scalp, your hands running soothing circles on his back.

You’re not alone for this. You’re parents, together. And you’ll figure that out, together. Worst things come to worst...There’s always Alfred, to run to for advices, right ?

But you got this. You got it.

And Duke does too. Right now, he needs to be angry. But he’ll come around. And he’ll realize that truly...He’s not actually alone in this.

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A short bonus story, as I only managed to write this today (feeling a bit under the weather). I hope you liked it nonetheless ! As per usual, comments/reblogs always greatly appreciated, motivating, and welcomed <3. Thank you in advance, and see you soon with a longer, more fleshed out story.

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cemeteryspider · 1 month

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Counting Cards

Beginnings of Remy Lebeau x Fem! Mutant! Omni-Perception! Reader

Summary: You meet the one and only Gambit while counting cards at a blackjack table in New York.

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Mentioned Financial Hardships, Gambling, Threats of Violence

Word Count: 1.7k

You had once been a hopeful dreamer, a girl with aspirations beyond the impoverished streets of your hometown. But desperation often has a way of grinding the edges of ambition and of making sacrifices that would seem unthinkable in the cold light of day. The multi-millionaire you now worked for was the epitome of this sacrifice- a devil’s bargain struck in the shadows in an attempt to pull your family from poverty and homelessness.

Draped in the guise of glamor, platinum blond hair that cascaded down your shoulders and a dress that clung to your every curve, you became a fixture of opulent casinos around the world. Your role was simple yet complex at the very same time, to work the system, to be alluring to wealthy men, and to subtly manipulate the games in their favor. Your powers that you once tried to hide from your few friends and family became your best asset, heaviest burden, and the thing allowing you to save said family.

This casino’s ambiance in particular was a symphony of loud laughs, hushed whispers, clinking chips, shuffling cards, and soft hum of slot machines. You sat next to a man in a three piece suit, your perfectly rehearsed giggle punctuated the air as you played the role of doting oblivious girlfriend. The subtle squeeze of his bicep or playful slap on his shoulder after a crude joke were all part of the act. Beneath this ignorant charade, your keen eyes kept track of every card dealt, every chip moved, and every twitch of the dealer’s fingers.

As the count turned positive, you leaned closer, your breath warm against the client’s ear as you rubbed his back in a soothing, almost hypnotic motion. He raised the bet and the game continued. The soft trail of your fingers on his thigh signaled him to play cautiously, to avoid drawing too much attention to the two of you. His decision to stand earned a small, approving smile from you, a reassurance he was making the correct choice. The dealer's cards came into play, and your silent communication continued, your touch a subtle command to the man beside you.

Your powers were a delicate instrument, a secret weapon that influenced the game in ways no one else could detect. The thrill of winning by proxy was intoxicating, but it came with a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. The money wasn’t for you; the small amount you earned went to your family, trapped in a cycle of dependency and fear, their safety hanging by a thread.

The final hand was dealt. Your eyes flickered briefly, a faint glow that only those who knew what to look for would notice. Just then, a tap on your shoulder pulled you from your intense focus. A tall figure stood behind you, his presence commanding and enigmatic.

"Would you come with me, ma'am?" His voice was thick with a Cajun accent, smooth and charismatic. You turned, a polite smile forming on your lips even before you met his eyes. His auburn hair was tied back in a messy bun, and his irises glowed a striking red against the blackness of his sclera. Recognition flashed in your mind—this was Gambit, a mutant you had seen on TV, a member of the X-Men.

"Sure, let me just grab my purse," you replied with practiced calm. As you whispered a quick instruction to your partner to cash out and leave, you felt a pang of unease. What was Gambit doing here? And what did he want with you?

As you followed him through the labyrinthine hallways of the casino and into the adjacent hotel, you noticed the careful avoidance of security cameras and the strategic use of crowded areas. It was a well-practiced maneuver, one you recognized from your own experience.

In a quiet room on the first floor, the door closed behind you with a soft click. The tension in the air was palpable. Gambit, with his easy smile and relaxed posture, seemed unfazed.

"Usually, I wait until the third date to go back to a man's hotel room," you joked, trying to mask your nerves.

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound. "Nah, chere, we've been watchin' you," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. Your heart skipped a beat. How long had they been observing you? How much did they know?

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of unease. It was rare for you to be caught off guard, but this situation was beyond anything you had prepared for.

"Gambit, my name, chere, and I work for the X-Men," he began, but you cut him off.

"The X-Men, I know. How about we get to the point?" Time was slipping away, and you knew your employer would send someone to check on you if you didn't show up soon.

He nodded, acknowledging your urgency. "The Professor has been watching you. Your abilities are bein', let's say, misspent on petty crimes and swindlin'."

You considered his words carefully. Charles Xavier, the Professor, was a renowned advocate for mutant rights, a figure of immense power and influence. His offer carried weight, but it also came with strings attached.

"So, you want me to join your little team?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implications.

"Gambit was hopin'," he replied, his voice sincere.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "I'm not doing this for myself. I'm doing this for my family." The words came out sharper than you intended, a defense mechanism born of years of hardship.

You turned to leave, but Gambit's hand on your shoulder stopped you. "We know, chere. That's why we've brought them to the mansion. They're safe, chere."

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Your family—safe? It was a concept you had almost given up on. The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave, your shoulders slumping under the sudden release of tension.

"What?" The question was barely a whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. Could it be true? After everything you had done, everything you had sacrificed, could your family finally be free?

"We're tryin' to take down the people you owe. In doin' that, we found you. Would you come to the mansion with me? No funny business, I swear, chere," Gambit said, his eyes holding a promise of safety and a fresh start.

The ride to the X-Mansion was a blur of emotions and half-formed thoughts. Gambit kept the conversation light, sharing stories of his past life in New Orleans, a thief navigating a world of shadows and secrets. You found yourself opening up, recounting tales of casinos and the intricate cons you'd pulled off. It was a strange, almost surreal connection, two kindred spirits from different walks of life.

As the mansion loomed into view, your heart pounded in your chest. The sprawling estate was both intimidating and inviting. Stepping out of the car, you saw your family on the lawn, your younger siblings playing tag, your parents looking more relaxed than you had seen them in years. Relief washed over you, bringing tears to your eyes. They were safe.

But as you reunited, the reality of the situation set in. Your family couldn't stay; the dangers were too great. They needed to leave the country, to start anew far from the reach of those who might seek revenge. It was a bittersweet moment, the joy of their safety tempered by the knowledge that you might have to part ways.

The Professor, Charles Xavier himself, approached you. His presence was calm and reassuring. "Or you could stay here," he offered, his voice gentle but firm. "Learn to use your powers, control them effortlessly for good. Be a part of my X-Men."

You stood at the edge of the mansion's expansive lawn, watching your family with a mixture of relief and heartache. The sight of your younger siblings laughing as they played, your parents' shoulders finally free of the burdens they'd carried for so long, filled you with a profound sense of peace. But beneath that peace, there was an undercurrent of something more—a longing for a life that meant something beyond survival and crime.

The choice before you was clear, yet impossibly difficult. The urge to stay with your family was strong, an instinctual pull toward the people you had fought so hard to protect. But as you looked at the X-Mansion, you felt the stirrings of a different kind of desire—the desire to be more than a pawn in someone else's game, to use your abilities for good and perhaps even change the world.

You took a deep breath, your decision solidifying in your mind. Turning to your family, you saw understanding in their eyes. They had always known the risks, the sacrifices. But they also knew the strength of your spirit, the potential you had yet to unleash.

With a sudden burst of emotion, you ran towards them, wrapping them in a fierce embrace. They hugged you back tightly, their warmth and love surrounding you. It was a moment of silent communication, a farewell and a blessing all at once. They understood your choice, even if it meant a painful separation.

Pulling back, you looked into their eyes, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I would love to join you guys. Maybe change the world one day."

There was a beat of silence, then Gambit, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, stepped forward. His eyes sparkled with approval, a lopsided grin on his face. "Good choice, chere," he said, his voice carrying a note of camaraderie and promise.

You nodded, feeling a sense of resolve wash over you. This was the start of a new chapter, a chance to reclaim your autonomy and forge your own path. As you watched your family wave goodbye and drive away, you felt a mixture of sadness and hope. They were safe, and so were you. But more importantly, you were free to finally make your life your own.

With a deep breath, you turned toward the mansion, your new home and the place where your true journey would begin. You were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, to fight for a better world alongside the X-Men. As you walked through the mansion's grand doors, you felt a sense of purpose you had never known before. You were no longer just a player in someone else's game; you were a hero in the making, with the power to change the world.

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