#really yandere

[kawaiiemokittyblood]

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Butler who is always there to assist you in everything. From the morning your eyes flutter open to the night they flutter close, he is always there watching you.

Yan! Butler who does not leave the room as the servants help you refresh, from the bathroom to the dressing table, his eyes glued on you. The petals that hug your body as they rinse you, the comb that is weaved up and down to style your hair, and the way they attend you to dressing up.

Yan! Butler who is respectful enough to be as immobile as he stared right in your eyes, gaze unwavering by the fact that you were stripped bare.

But who were you but someone oblivious to the way he jerked his cock onto your face as you dozed off to the dreamscape? Your steady breath fanning his cock, your teeth rubbed against his tip and your mouth forced open to take his load.

He was respectful enough to not violate you, just yet. Tonight, he was content enough with his hand and your face. Perhaps he would indulge himself with your mouth next and soon, your hole.

[godnectar]

yanderes tying you up and overstimulating their darling beyond their limits >>>>

☆ note : kinda shady and dark depending on how u read it,,, but I still wouldn't mind actually writing something like this if anyone requested it yk 👀... ( inbox here! )

your yandere lover who truly cannot help it. he cannot help it because it just feels so good —you feel so good— that he could never stop trying to make you shiver in pleasure, especially since you can't do anything against it. having tied you up at the beginning of the session, he didn't even notice the way your legs started to shake, or the way your eyes flooded with blissed out tears, too lost in his own world as he continued to kiss, bite, grope and thrust into you.

yandere dilf, pup, househusband, jock, florist, crush, himbo + upcoming nerd, ex-boyfriend, bodyguard, werewolf, and best friend!

your yandere lover who's completely aware of what he's doing. you thought he would untie you and let you go just like that after giving you the most mind-blowing fuck ever? of course not, sweetheart— he's not even done yet at all. why should he stop, when you look so so so pretty while writhing and mewling under him, though? you're certainly in for a night full of worship and pleasure, no matter if you might be a bit too dizzy and exhausted at the end.

yandere professor, bully, sugar daddy, husband, neighbor, assistant, vampire + upcoming tutor, doctor, pharaoh, merman, and boss!

© godnectar 2024. please do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd part here.

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

[cookiepie111]

Men who slip a wedding ring on your finger while they're fucking you dumb. You're as married in his mind now

Tag your favourite fictional man

[yanderemommabean]

Oh, oh, oh! Yandere virus, but it one day coming into school, the girls who normally bully you are acting strange. When you see them in the hallway, you are expected to be laughed at or shoves to the ground. However, you didn't expect to be shoved against the wall as they stare you down with a dangerous and lustful glint in their eye, telling you about all the plans they have in store for you. They force you to wear matching clothes and make sure everyone knows who you belong to and not to even try anything. Maybe you're forced to live in the house. Bonus if the other hold you down as the ring leader eats you out, as the others tell you how cute you are uwu

“Ah ah ah. You aren’t going anywhere” A voice chirps in your ear. You wince, sighing as the three surround you once again as class is dismissed and everyone heads to the dorms for the evening. Honestly, if you were perhaps a bit stronger, a bit less self conscious, you might spit in their faces and make a run for it. Sadly, you aren’t some badass (and admittedly, one dimensional) character and are frozen in place as they wait for the others to leave. 

They don't intervene. They know better. These young women have power, wealth, and beauty in their arsenal, and aren't afraid to use it to get what they want, and to silence anyone who complains. Phoebe, Sadie, and Naomi, all from powerful families who more or less run this college and the town. You don't doubt they paid the administrators and dean to get into this place, while you had to work hard and prove yourself. 

None of that matters at the moment. Currently, Phoebe was twirling her fingers in your hair like you two were close friends or even dating, smiling almost wickedly at you as her eyes, usually hazel, now with an odd pink ring, stare at you like you were some prey about to be eaten and devoured. Usually they just shove you around and make fun of your clothes, but today…Something's off. Very very off. 

“Isn’t she so cute you guys?” She says, sickly sweet, you want to say mocking but no, it's like there’s something more flirtatious with it. “Oh definitely, I just want to sink my teeth in her, you know? Make her whimper” Naomi adds on, hand to her cheek as she stares at you like one would a puppy being precious. Oh god hearing that made you think they were about to hurt you or humiliate you in some way. 

Sadie just sighs, not in your direction, looking over her shoulder to make sure the halls were clear, and once they were truly empty of everyone else, she made sure the grip on your wrists were tighter. “Listen up. We have some new rules set in place, and you, adorably obedient as you are, are going to follow them”. Oh wow. The audacity. Then again you never really put up a fight so, are they really wrong? What other choice did you have anyway? If they wanted to, they could make your family kicked out of town and their jobs nonexistent. It’s best to just grit your teeth as best you can. 

While you tried to listen, Phoebe made sure she got closer, her hand on you as well, but more exploring, sliding up and down your sleeve and trying to dip her fingers into the hem to feel your wrist, dragging them up and down softly as Sadie began to speak again. “You’re ours. Simple as that. No more avoiding the lobby when we’re there, no more trying to get little study dates away from the school library, no more trying to hide from us”. “I'm sorry what-” “Ah ah, she’s not finished cutie” Naomi says with a gentle touch slowly sliding to your waist, her cold fingertips acting like they wanted to slide under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin, her brown eyes also having that odd pink ring in her iris. “Go on Sadie, she’ll be good and listen. She always is” 

You felt your cheeks grow impossibly hot, words failing you as all three of these girls began to more or less feel you up and tell you that…That you were theirs? Whatever that could mean? Sadie just sighs, more playful this time as she cups your cheek and makes you look at her, the same weird coloration in her eyes. “You’re ours. No more private study dates, no more drabby clothes, no more avoiding food when we’re in the commons or cafeteria, just a lot more rules and a lot more dress code for you. Tsk, I can’t tell if I want you in a skirt, or if I'd stab any bastard who’d look at you when you wear one. Maybe some cute pants? Ugh they’d still lay their eyes on you either way, makes me want to just call mom and have the banks foreclose their houses”. 

“Please Don’t-” “Ah ah, don’t even try it. You’re ours, if we want to punish people for looking at our puppy, we will” Phoebe comments, her fingers moving to hold your hand and give the top of it a gentle kiss. “Speaking of puppy” Naomi mentions, nodding her head towards the others, and before you can blink you’re turned over, face to the wall. You hear Sadie murmur something as she rummages through her bag for a moment, and you feel her hands slide around your throat before something clicks behind your head, and your eyes widen in horror.

“There we go! I made sure it wouldn’t be too tight, the guy who made it for me was such an artist about it, I love it! If he would’ve said no, you know I’d have his business ruined” She mentions casually, getting a few soft giggles in agreement. 

“Here sweetie! Have a look at how cute you are when you show that you belong to us” Naomi says, handing you her phone as a mirror. You feel weak and shaky as your fingers come up to touch the bright pastel pink leather, a metal heart in the center pressing against your throat. You reach around to feel the back and feel a harsh shock to your fingers, making you yelp. 

“Oh, sweetheart, don't try and take it off! It was so expensive but I got a cute one to work as a shock collar. Shower safe but anytime you take one, one or all of us will be with you, so you won't have to worry about taking it off yourself. We’ll talk more about the rules later in our dorm”. You shiver, unable to think of how to talk. What in the fuck could you even say? You just had a designer shock collar put on you by your bullies! Who are now acting like you were their chew toy or pet no less. “O-our dorm?”.

Phoebe nods, gently stroking your hair “Yeah, duh! How else will we keep a better eye on you? Cameras are fine and all but I prefer to make sure you’re warm with one of us sharing a bed with you. Plus, it’s easier to kiss you good morning faster”. “K-Kiss?!” You almost shriek, only for Naomi to softly hush you with a finger to your lips. “Now now, don’t get loud! We don’t need that just yet”. She pouts, hearing her phone going off and checking the time. “Well, we have to split for now, I have a dinner with mom and dad. You two take her to the dorm and tell me how she acts! Don't do anything more pretty please? We said we’d share her”. 

You don't get much out before Naomi heads off, Phoebe and Sadie gripping your arms a bit too firmly to lead you, talking back and forth like you weren’t making a practical death march down to their dorm room. 

Oh God what’s going to happen once that door is shut?

-Mommabean (Hiya! Sorry for lack of smut but I am proud I wrote this much at least lol. If you beans want i can do a part two! Wanted to try and flesh this out before anything too intense ya know? Anyway I hope you like! Lemme know if you do!)

[2smolbeans]

I just thought of a yandere Obey Me Au idea.

So you know those (Replaced Au Obey Me) writings where the brothers just dump Mc and floak towards the new exchange student?

Well, I thought of my own Obey Me Replaced Au..With a twist:

.

.

________________

The moment you heard of the new exchange student, you didn't know how to feel. It wasn't anything exciting. It was terrifying if anything - though that sense of fear could never match the amount of paranoia the demon brothers gave you every day.

Would this exchange student last long? Would the demon brothers tolerate their mere existence? What do they look like? Could they perhaps be your friend?

Despite all odds of you trying to keep those thoughts about the new exchange student at bay, you couldn't help but fantasize the scenarios about them.

Another human in hell with you. They had to be human, right? You overheard it from Lucifer mumbling in his office about it. Maybe this place wouldn't be so terrifying and lonely after all.

Finally, you could have someone else by your side. For once, you could maybe perhaps talk to another person for a nice change.

But when they came, they immediately shifted their gaze towards the brothers- of course smitten by their appearances and 'personalities'.

All those daydreams, those fantasies. Shattered.

They didn't look at you, acknowledge you, or even bother with you. They were too enamored by the temptations of sin that dangled in front of them like a stringed up prize.

Though you were disheartened by the loss chance of a new friend... You were also happy that they were distant to you.

Why?

Well, for once, your captors, tormentors, and demons who smothered you constantly every day had finally given you a break. This was your chance, a chance you had never thought to have seen coming.

They..They were actually too distracted for once! You finally had your own privacy, alone time - god, you were actually able to talk to other people again!

It helped that the exchange student was keeping the brothers busy while also keeping a safe distance from you! So you didn't have to be roped up into any of their antics at all!

Some people would feel shitty knowing that they were being replaced, that the people who adored them had found another person to devote their affection towards.

But you?

You were prancing happily throughout the halls of the school when you had figured out that you had been replaced. Smiling every day as you noticed, the brothers hadn't once bothered you at all.

Of course, things wouldn't last forever...

Sooner or later, you found yourself cornered in an empty room, surrounded by them as they stared disappointed at you.

What happened to the exchange student? You thought things were going well? Why was everything like this again? Where were they- This wasn't fair. You had a chance - a chance to-

"What? Leave us again?"

"You didn't think we wouldn’t notice you skipping happily along the halls when we decided to test you, right?"

"You didn't even bother checking up on us..Instead.. You enjoyed being apart from us.."

"Wow, low blow Mc..Realll low blow. Ya really took this as an opportunity to fool around with others, huh?"

"And after that one night where you promised me you'd never lie or abandon me..What a fucking joke"

"Yeah, hogging all your attention towards yourself and others like an eager attentionwhore.. And I'm the avatar of lust. Are you trying to say something orrr what?"

"Well, I wouldn’t expect much from them. After all, they have rather been slow about their position here..Maybe we should educate them more."

.

.

.

And with a sadistic voice of awe, everyone else spoke in unison as they stared at you with glee.

"Agreed"

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.

.

__________________________

[heartlyrins]

GAMBLE FOR YOUR LIFE !

˚₊‧Desc— In which by gambling on his life, Aventurine manages to procure himself a little pet to take care of.

˚₊‧TW— smut, dubcon, slave/master, gentle noncon, face fucking, hair pulling, praise, anal, fem!reader, pet names, human trafficking, pussy eating, pussy kisses, he loves babying you, Aventurine sees himself in you so he's a total softie to you :(, spoilers for 2.0 and his backstory

˚₊‧A/N— Hey cuties!! Short lil fic before I actually write dark content for real, sorry my writing is a lil messed I'm a lil sleepy. Not really dark content since it's more like dubcon, sorry I was in the mood for praises :(. Send me requests I'm so lonely

Gambling is something many people enjoy—of course, Aventurine is one of that many people. It's not that he enjoys it, he just has some extraordinary luck as his sister once said.

Through gambling, he finds that you can attain many things. Some of the things which shouldn't even be sold—an illegal trade of sorts.

You could even trade a life.

Not his life, of course, not anymore. But a cute doozy girl from the slumps, he was once a being like you—a slave sold from places to place, but he had escaped that life.

The Kakavasha he once was is no more, instead an Aventurine is reborn. But seeing the look in your eyes reminds him of the child he once was, the child he didn't have the opportunity to memorise.

The life he left behind and hoping to forget. But he's reminded of it everytime he looks deep into your eyes.

He's grown to like you. You've gone through the same things he did, but only that you hadn't have his luck to escape earlier.

He can see that you're starting to grow him too, it was easy to get you to like him. The masters you've had must've treat you badly, so it would come to you naturally to like a kind one.

Well he does give you pats and praises when you've done even something that isn't worth noting. Like for example, picking up something from the ground and throwing it away, sleeping when he told you so, chewing with your mouth closed.

Those were the basic things natural in life, but he can't help to praise you for the simplest thing.

Even as you're just taking him into your mouth, not even bothering to suck on his cock and just taking it motionlessly in your mouth while he does all the work, he still can't help but praise you for it.

"Oh, baby—baby relax your throat." He coos as he looks down at you, holding onto your hair gently as if you were so fragile.

He starts to push his cock deeper, enabling your gag reflex as your throat attempts to push away the foreign object currently in your mouth.

He's so gentle with you that you hate it, you hate how he babies you, you hate how he's doing this without your consent and you especially hate how your body is reacting to it.

"I'm going to fuck your throat now okay?" He pushes through despite your gag reflex and grips onto your scalp almost painfully as he begins to fuck your face repeatedly.

"F-fuhck—you feel so good, so fucking good!" In a breathy moan he starts to abuse your throat faster, the only thing you could do was attempt to breathe through your nose which you were failing miserably.

You were almost kne the verge of fainting, black spots taking over your visions until he pulled out of you and came on your face, his cum dripping down your hair and eyelashes.

You start heaving on the floor, appreciating that you could at least breathe again. But you weren't even allowed that when he brings you to the bed and lays you down flat on your back gently.

You weren't used to this kind of gentleness from your previous masters, or anyone at all. He kisses your pussy through your panties before pushing them to the side and spreading your lips apart.

"Your pussy is so pretty.." He moaned out when he was met with the sight of your pink lips.

He licks a stripe up to your clit and gives a kiss on it and it gave you a moment to wonder if he was making out with your pussy.

The index of his ginger soon entered your hole as he licks at your vagina as if he was a starving man on an island.

Once he deemed you were wet enough, he positions the tip of his cock on your entrance before sliding the tip of it down to your puckered hole and you can see him smirking as he sees the fear in your eyes, desperately trying to push him away.

"N-no there.. It's dirty and dry—" you attempt to reason but he only spits down on his thumb and opens up the puckered hole slowly with his thumb.

The mere feeling of it disgusts you.

But what could you do accept take his cock in your asshole as he wanted to? And he's certainly adamant on it.

He brings his head down to your ears before whispering silently in your ear and you can feel his hot breath on your earlobe.

"Shh, it's gonna hurt if you don't relax okay? I'll do it slowly, baby." the fact that he was so relaxed about it made you wanted to push him further, but he kept you still by the hips and pushes into you as he said—slowly.

But it still hurts no matter how he does it and you squeal at the pain—you wish that he would've just pushed it all at once so the pain would be gone faster.

"You're such a good girl, you know that? My good girl. It was worth it gambling my life in that casino, just for you. I wanted you the moment I set eyes on you—" he groaned as he pushes himself further until he's at the hilt.

You push against his chest, flailing around at the pain but he just leans over to your tits and holds one boob in his hand before sucking on the other.

He reaches a finger down to your clit and starts rubbing you to get you to your climax faster which made it hurts even more, but it felt so pleasurable even if you try to resist.

"N-nuh, not there I'm sensitive!" you moan, it felt like you wanted to black out from the pain and the fact that it felt so good infuriates you.

He groans as he starts setting his pace faster, letting go of your nipple with a pop and moving onto your neck before sucking on one of the spot.

"Ahah—you're so cute.." he says when he pulls away from your neck, leaving a hickey in place.

"So adorable.. Go on, cum my little princess. Cum from me fucking your little tight asshole—" as if on command, your body reacts and came immediately.

He groans as he felt you tighten up, giving a few more thrusts before he came in you and pulls out, letting his cum drip down the sheet.

You were so glad that it was over, until he cups your chin and makes you face him.

"Oh no, baby. I've got a few more load left inside me, after all, I still haven't used your pussy yet.. You didn't think it was over, did you?" he grins when he sees your droopy face that was stained with his cum and gives you a kiss on your forehead.

The night still has a long way to go.

[bunnygirllover45]

sorry for dissapearing I've been really busy lately lol, have some quick sketches of the guys of dies irae for the time being.

[harmonysanreads]

Reader : Is something burning?

Lyney : Just my burning love for you, darling~

Reader : Lyney, the toaster is on fire.

[beloved-blaiddyd]

yandere half-dog!Gallagher and forgetful farmer!reader au medium effort doodles before I start my day lol.

Edit: more dog gallagher content here

Short additional brainrots:

(Y/n)'s family has a long history of adopting hounds, even including them in their family tree.

Initially, they have no plans on getting a dog. They can manage the farm just fine and was not interested in investing on livestock (chickens, sheep, cows, etc.) They're not confident enough in their abilities to raise an animal.

??? once belonged to another Family, which unfortunately treated him poorly. He was not given a name. There was a period in the summer wherein his owners forgot to give him water, and when he did hear the sound of liquid trickling down— he cringed at the taste. He still doesn't know if they were trying to kill him, but from them on, he loathed the taste of SoulGlad.

Needless to say... (Y/n)'s old man was surprised when they brought home a "mutt".

“He looks like he's dying. Pops, can't you help me out?”

“I thought you hate animals...”

“I just stink at taking care of 'em.” (Y/n) sighed. “Please? Poor thing looks like it's on its last leg.”

To this day, Gallagher isn't sure what exactly compelled them to help him. Even when asked, (Y/n) would say they forgot their own reasons behind taking him in. Perhaps he was just that pitiful— or maybe their (L/n) traits finally got to them. He's eternally grateful either way.

And so...

Gallagher gazed at the (L/n) Family tree, caressing his and (Y/n)'s image.

“Hey Master, ya don't have any plans on getting another hound, do ya?”

“Please, you're already a handful, Woos— Gallagher. I don't need another one.”

He grinned, eyes not straying away from the painted walls.

“Good.” He closed his eyes.

“Wouldn't want to share you with anyone else, y'know.”

(Y/n) laughed. “For an old dog, you seem like a clingy young pup.”

Gallagher nodded, savoring their voice. Refreshing, just like cold water on a warm day. You claimed that he's acting like a puppy, but when he was young? He was a biter. Not exactly the loving kind. It was best that you met him when he was already all grown up.

“Well... Perhaps that's just a sign I never got a chance to being one... But when I'm with you, I'm...”

He shook his head.

“Nevermind. What's the agenda for today, Master?”

[on-leatheredwings]

Dirty Laundry (18+)

Yandere! Dick Grayson x (Fem) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > Request: I think Dick would be a major creep and your rules didn't say anything about no nsft, so can I ask for a fic with this scenario: Dick stealing reader's underwear and using the dirty ones to get off while cumming into the clean ones. And putting the "clean" ones back into her dresser hoping she doesn't notice the stains and wears them? Thanks! > a/n: …………………………………… Ohhhh, so you’re crazy. Meaning, you’re just like me . thanks for the dick request i want to write him better/more ;u; had fun writing this! > tw: someone cumming in your panties without your consent or knowledge, so sexual assault. As well as yandere-typical thoughts and behaviors. > Word count: 1847 (Ugh this was supposed to be like 3 paragraphs max but i’m me.)

Dick’s your best friend. 

… You guess.

He was new to Blüdhaven, and you two just seemed to keep bumping into each other in the rare times you left your apartment. Might as well get to know the guy. You didn’t have much choice in the matter, once he attached to you. And that was okay, because you liked him back and, frankly, were in quite desperate need for friends. The man currently lounges on your bed, sifting through a magazine while you’re mixing audio for this indie rock cover band that’s commissioned you. That’s your side hustle and passion, when you’re not being a work-from-home researcher for S.T.A.R. Labs. 

You’re an hour into your work and Dick Grayson is lounging on his spot on your bed, because he has claimed a spot at this point. All is well with the world. Then, your stomach lets out a groan, and so do you.

A pair of eyes, all ocean blue and twinkling, slide over to you without a second’s hesitation. You meet them, unblinking and unperturbed. Does he know he’s kind of a freak? Being all light-eyed and adoring?

You stand up without fanfare, removing your headphones from your ears and letting them sit around the column of your neck.

“I’m going to get food from the place next door.”

You yawn and walk away from your desk. That usually was much harder for you, but Grayson’s presence in your life had made it more of a priority for you to care for yourself. “Don’t touch anything,” you say, plainly and without venom. Without another word, you’re gone, and Dick launches up from his seat once he hears the front door to your flat close.

He told himself he was going to do this today. He told himself, and he is a man of his word.

He opens the bottom drawer of your dresser, where he knows you keep your clean pairs of underwear. Then he trespasses into your closet, where he knows you keep your laundry basket.

Dick knows where a lot of things are in your apartment, and he has made it his job to know every inch of your bedroom specifically. When you leave the room, like times like this, he enjoys going around and familiarizing himself with everything. And he’s planted cameras, of course. He does leave your en-suite restroom alone, an act he pats himself on the back for. You deserved your privacy, after all. To his disappointment, you do tend to masturbate exclusively in the shower, and he must tide himself over with the audio his cameras pick up, rather than visuals.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dick buries his hands into your laundry basket. These were the things… you wore. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. Still, he had no time to waste. While often busy, the Chinese place you were at was also known for its fast service. Dick grabs the first pair of panties he sees: blue lace-trim, white in color, with blue gingham. You’re so cute. 

He sits in your closet, back to your hamper, slides off the jeans that look really good on him which he hopes you’ve noticed. All of these actions are done a little clumsier than normal because his pulse roars in his ears.

He lets his head fall backward, and he begins pumping his cock with your panties in that same hand. He thinks of your face, your body, your hands. He really likes your hands, so adept and amble, always flying across a keyboard or strumming a guitar. He thinks about the honest things you say, truthful but usually with tact. He thinks about your eyes crinkling when he’s being a show-off, and your pretty lips that you’re usually wetting with your tongue rather than finally just getting lip balm. 

At this point, Dick is a wreck, eyes glazed over and only half-open. His eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep them open. He goes slack-jawed, pink lips only a little swollen from his biting down on them. He’s about to finish, he knows he is. It’s building in him like the birth of a tidal wave. Pre-cum and his sweat have soiled your gingham pair, and he looks at the very plain pair of navy blue boyshorts in his free hand, clenched into a fist. He finds himself blushing. Your underwear is so… you, and it’s hilarious that holding them in his hand is what is flustering him so much. Considering what he’s doing.

Dick whimpers, a sound that’s both embarrassing and utterly liberating. Pleasure pulses in between his legs, his back shoots into an arch, his balls hike up to the base of his cock. He cums with a raspy cry, right onto the crotch of your boyshorts. He had initially planned to just finish anywhere on the fabric, but at the last second decided to cum where your cunt would touch. He’s kind of romantic like that. (He’s also kind of a pervert, and he knows that.)

He pants in the afterglow of his orgasm, cheeks painted over with rosy pink. He tosses your white pair back into its home, the laundry basket.

His calloused fingers reach up for the corner of his mouth, which had been agape this whole while. 

… Was he drooling? 

Dick robotically proceeds to rub his semen into your underwear until it's just a dark stain. He pulls his dark jeans from the pool of black denim they formed at his ankles, he runs his fingers through his hair at a job well done. He returns your boyshorts to your dresser, neatly folding them like all the rest. And finally, he wipes his mouth. He returns to your bed, and it’s like nothing has happened since you left.

Dick Grayson – Gotham pretty boy, badass superhero – should probably cringe; in any other context, isn’t that so lame…? But considering it was you, honestly, what could he have expected…

You come back into your bedroom, a bag of takeout swinging from your hands. His eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

… You simply have that effect on him. 

You stomp through his room until you’re right in front of him, where he pretends to be scrolling on his phone. Your arms are akimbo as you stare down at him, blocking your room’s overhead light with your skull and casting your shadow over him. He looks up and smiles cheekily.

“Alright, Dickard.” Dick’s lips quirk. “Get out. I’m going to shower and change.” Sniffing yourself on the way back, you decided it was high time you did. 

Dick’s brain goes a mile a minute. Shower. Change. Underwear? His heart skitters but he doesn’t show it. 

“Aw, don’t let me stop you. Feel free,” he teasingly sings.

Your eye twitches and you take it upon yourself to physically move him. Not that you could if he chose to actually resist. You know that he must be strong, stronger than ‘doing acrobatics as a hobby’ must make someone. You’ve caught a peek at his abdomen and biceps now and then. Guy is ripped. 

“Go eat,” you order, throwing the takeout into his hand. “I got enough for the both of us.” Why, Dick could twirl his hair and kick his feet right now – despite a prickly exterior, you really were a sweetheart, weren’t you? He refuses to have you pay for him though. He will definitely be returning the favor thricefold.

You successfully shoo the six feet tall model out of your room. 

Once he’s out, you take your shower, standing for five minutes in the spray until it grows warm. You think with amusement at the idea of movies and TV making women showering such a sexy, erotic scene. Bitch, you are in here scrubbing pots and pans. 

After the job’s done, your feet land on your worn shower mat from college, and pad towards your bedroom once more. You catch a towel on your way there, belatedly remembering that Dick Grayson may still be loitering in your bedroom, and you weren’t too keen on the idea of him seeing your private bits. Warily shifting eyes from behind the door, you see no one’s around.

Knock knock. 

“Are you done?”

Dick’s voice from the hallway makes you panic, fearful that he may burst in before you’re ready and presentable. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a woman while she’s getting ready in her boudoir!“ you yell, hoping some rich person’s instinct suddenly clicks in him. You thought rich men were supposed to be gentlemanly. Really, ever since meeting Dick, who is son to the richest man in the state, you’ve learned rich people all must be whiny, clingy, braggers, show-offs, and sometimes, just plain brats. In your hurry, you swipe a panty from your drawer and slip it on past your thighs. Body still damp from the shower, you don’t notice anything. 

The rest of your clothes follow, and you choose to sit back down in your desk chair. You turn back to your double monitor set up, ready to become a screen zombie once more when you remember someone’s waiting for you.

Without turning around, you holler, “Come in.” 

Without a moment’s pause, Dick reenters, takeout plated for the both of you in each hand. He places one smoothly in front of you with butler-like precision. 

“Your meal, madam,” Dick says in a Parisian accent, and you do smile in amusement. His eyes dilate, but you don’t notice.

“Thank you, my fine sir,” you return, a little embarrassed, accent weak, but willing to keep up the bit.

Dick knows not to disturb you too much while you work, so he wanders away as you slip your headphones over your ears once more. But before returning to His Spot on the bed, he quietly treads to your dresser. He sneaks a glance to make sure you’re still occupied. And you are, that blue wash of light painting your skin. 

He pulls out the drawer, and– hhhhh.

He heaves with breath involuntarily, although it’s nearly imperceptible. You do make him slip more than he likes, but he’s experienced. He glances once more to make sure you didn’t hear that, and of course you didn’t. You’re still fiddling in Ableton Live.

He shuts the drawer and stalks to His Spot on the bed, and anyone who knows Dick Grayson would see that he is tense. He is stiff.

And how could he not be? You’re wearing the underwear he had cum on. Did you notice? Is this your way of coming onto him? No, you’re too forward to play games… Something he finds both refreshing and a shame, because he loves games. You simply mustn't have noticed. Regardless, the knowledge fills him with such ecstasy and arousal… and longing. 

He eyes you discreetly as his skin reddens. He tries to act natural by eating steaming orange chicken, plucking it from his plate with a chopstick. One day, he’ll have you, in body and soul. 

Until then, he can entertain himself with this game, however one-sided.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog ; satoru gojo

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, dripping with exhaustion, a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated — from satoru, this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you in. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. like clockwork. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting, slipping from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth cherishing, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything that’s good, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches a flicker of joy dance within your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back. 

so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hii ! I wanted to ask if you could do more yandere gangster.

A/N: here's a ramble that is similar to so many other fics/imagines but its ALL I CAN THINK OF RN...

CW: kidnapping, yandere themes, murder, illicit substances mentioned, weaponry, some suggestive thots, general dark content shtuff.

Gangster! Yan who’s the right hand man to one of your city’s oldest gangs, the bosses family operating it since the prohibition era. Their main source of income back then was smuggling alcohol to different speakeasies and clubs, now mostly dabbling in the occasional shipment of opioids or small arms that they can get their hands on. Your gangster! Yan doesn’t handle that side of business, though. He’s been tasked to oversee deals, and the protection of the boss and whatever sweet treat he has on his arm for the evening.

When a ‘project’ goes haywire, he’s there to settle things. When someone needs to be taken care of, he oversees it while his boys do what they need to. And when there’s a witness to a particularly unsavory part of business, he personally sees to shutting them up. 

That’s why he didn’t have a choice but to watch you, to learn your morning routine and stare intensely when you perused the grocery isles indecisively. The boss put him up to it, to dispose of every flaw in their seamless operations; countless times he entered your backdoor, breaking the lock you had just replaced due to his previous endeavor, watching you curl up in warm white sheets and smush your face against your pillow. Standing outside wasn’t an option anymore, his shadow from the window disturbed you, and it blocked the trickle of moonlight on your dewey skin. 

Even with the small pistol in his hidden coat pocket, the crowbar he ued to pry the door open, the compulsion to rid you of what you had seen to appease his leader could not overtake the complete desire to rub his face into your chest, to have your thighs wrapped around his head like a sea of warmth, needing that earthy scent of your skin that somehow calmed his screaming heart to completely surround him. 

What drew him to you was how alone you had been-- at home, at the scene of the crime, when you were out and about. Who would miss you? Who was there to take care of you? What would be the purpose to killing you? You hadn’t even gone to the police yet, despite the millions of questionable asks you submitted to reddit and looked up online for what to do after seeing a man’s murder. 

The roughly edged gangster found it endearingly cute, so foreign to the life he had led. You had no way of stopping him if he completed what he was supposed to, no one to turn to if you suddenly found yourselves at the hands of a shady group of men who used you as a drug mule. 

Gangster! Yan knew the kind of underlings his boss employed, easy men on probation or past druggies who wouldn’t think for a minute to stop from gobbling you up on the side of the street if you just so happened to walk down the wrong alley. Seeing as you had stupidly yet to make a distinct change your route after witnessing his gangs work, it could happen any day now. 

He couldn’t let you fall prey to the men he didn’t have a leash on, nor let you continue to live in such suffocating solitude with that neutral look on your face forever. Even if it was only filled with fear from now on, from him-- he’d give you a better life than what you lived.

It was too easy to take you, too easy to drag you to his car, too easy to put you in the decent condo he had been paying for the past decade and barely came home to. Now, he had just realized, he’d have a real reason to come back home. He couldn’t just sleep the night away in shitty bars just to wake up to the next day of work. He had to take care of you, feed you, make sure you bathed. 

Gangster! Yan was almost as surprised when he gave you the cold shoulder, heartlessly teasing you for your stupidity in walking down a known drug-trade neighborhood, for not having realized that he had stalked  you every. single. Day. as you were blind to his heavy, broad shadow of scars and grimaces.

You were so quietly willing to appease him, to scoot to his lap when he demanded it with a threatening hand over his pocket, pretending as if the empty space was a weapon. “Please don’t kill me” you asked neverendingly, every meek breath expecting a slap or a shove off. But the criminal held onto you tighter, hating the reminder that you weren’t a willing pet. 

Even when your eyes faded back with ecstasy, your arms thrown around his shoulders with a grip that only a lover could offer, he saw the flinch you gave when he bent down to kiss you. 

Even with his harsh spats that he throws at you for your mistakes, his belittlement, you are his comfort doll when he’s deal with hardships for the day. When the horrible things he’s done starts to get to him and the alcohol doesn’t drown it out,  or when one of his drop-offs go to shit, you’re the one he bee-lines for for to rant to, to make you stroke him and nod at how hard he’s worked. But his possessiveness is soul-crushing. His grip is painful when he holds you at night, his kisses rough against your mouth with his chain-smoker breath and chapped lips that haven’t been touched in ages.

But with you, he’s learned to take better care of himself. He already has you, wants you in every way, but he needs you to want him, to need him. So, coming home to shower, geling his hair back like he did as a young rookie, shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, he’s made himself into the perfect, respectable man-- or wannabe bad boy. But no amount of grooming could change your perception of the blood stained gangster that kept you in a cage before you were trustworthy enough to be chained to the bed. 

“I’ve killed for you, who else could say that?” 

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, waiting here for me. Came home as fast as I could so you wouldn’t be lonely. A nobody like you can’t be left to your own devices for too long.”

“Won’t let no other fucker get a hold of you, you’re mine-- through and through. I’ll kill us both before something seperates us.

[gotham-daydreams]

Birthday

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Reader]

[Warnings: Implied-ish Kidnapping, Reader is Restrained, Yandere Implications (?)]

(Happy birthday to me, and whoever reads this too if it's your birthday :]. Something short and sweet for your troubles! Not proofread or really edited.)

------------------------

When you finally came to, you couldn't see anything at first. You tried to move, but only found yourself bound to something you couldn’t see. All you could tell was that you were sitting, and that your wrists, along with your ankles, were tied down.

Maybe you’d say something, or even call out to see if anyone was around or could help you, but you didn't. Despite the deafening silence and complete darkness, you could've sworn that there are others in the room with you… wherever you are. Even if you couldn't see them or hear them, and honestly you didn't know if that made things better or worse.

You couldn't say how many of them there are, but it was enough for them to surround you - or maybe it was only one or two people whose presence was enough to make you feel surrounded and suffocating. Though, no matter which turned out to be true, that didn't change the reality of the situation.

You were trapped in a dark room with someone, bound to what felt like a chair, and had no means of escape.

Have you been kidnapped? Or were you still in your apartment, just tied to one of your chairs?

… Again, you didn't know what was worse.

The ropes that held your wrists and ankles burned and dug into your skin when you moved even the slightest bit.

However, you didn't have much of a chance to move anymore before you felt someone place their hands on your shoulders, and slowly pulled you to sit back, as if trying to get you comfortable. Yet it only made you tense and straighten your back, but you didn't dare resist nor look back. Their touch was cold, so much so that you could feel it from under your sweater, but you still tried to not make a peep. 

It was only now did you feel your heart begin to pound against your chest, with sweat beginning to form and slowly roll down from your skull. You could feel what felt like countless eyes on you, and though you couldn't help but shrink under their invisible gaze, you didn't dare move, or even make a sound. You don't think you could bear being the first, especially not with someone's hands still on you.

It was only a moment after, did something break the deafening silence. It sounded like clicking, or a flick of some kind before a small little flame spawn from the darkness, coming from what seemed to be the tip of a long lighter, even if you could barely make it out. 

You watched as the little flame moved, before stopping over what seemed to be the tip of a candle, and stayed there before it lit. Not once did you look away as the little flame jumped from candle to candle, before it was suddenly put out once all the candles were lit. It was only now that you could see that the candles were on top of a cake, one you recognized too well and made your heart drop.

“Happy birthday to you~.” A voice began to sing as the cake was lifted, revealing a sort of blue ‘V’, with the ends almost acting as wings for whatever creature it tried to represent.

The figure began to move, the little flames on the candles revealing more of what laid in the darkness, more things that made the dread inside your chest grow.

“Happy birthday to you~.” The person approached you from the right, revealing four more people as they slowly drew close with each little word and step. Your heart began to race, and your dread only continued to grow. 

The first they passed was someone in a black suit that seemed to hold some kind of silver tray by their side. The only thing you noticed about the second was a brown jacket, and the faintest bit of a red symbol, with the third also wearing a red suit with a cape and black straps along the chest, with some kind of gold symbol with bird where the straps intersected right at the center.

The fourth also had a cape with some red on their own suit, but there was some yellow on the inside of the cape, and you could've sworn you could make out the faintest traces of an ‘R’ patch on the uppermost left area of the chest.

The hands on your shoulders felt heavier somehow as you felt another slow, cold bead of sweat roll down from your head, and trail down to your neck.

“Happy birthday~,” The person holding the cake stepped closer, and you could practically feel them beside you as they placed the cake down right in front of you, their arm nearly brushing against your own.

“Dear~,” Suddenly, a sparkler lit at the end of the table, and it came from the left side this time. Whoever was holding it walked down from the left, and very briefly and faintly could you make out three more people. 

The one holding the sparkler had an outline of a bat along their chest in yellow, with the majority of their suit being covered in black. They passed by someone whose suit was prominently purple, with their cloak covering most of their outfit, and showing they were wearing a hood as well. The last was mostly in yellow, and they seemed to be wearing something more akin to armor, with a reflective bat insignia on their chest as well.

Just how many people were there?

“Y/n~.” The person finally finished, saying your name right in your ear as the sparkler was placed on the cake. The words ‘Happy Birthday, Y/n! Lot's of love, Your Family ♡’ were written in icing on top of the cake, with a bit of smudged icing on top of the words ‘Your Family’, signifying that they had replaced the name that was originally there, and written over it, with little effort put into them even hiding that fact.

“Happy birthday to you~.” They hummed out with a little chuckle, tone happy-go-lucky and much too light for your liking. Especially when you were in a dark room with several people, tied to a chair with your wrists and ankles tightly bound.

Then, you felt someone's breath against your other ear, and when they spoke, their voice was much deeper and gruffer than the person who sung before.

“Go on, make a wish.” 

Chills shot down your spine, and it was only now did you notice the small little blinking red light on the right side of the table, around where the person in the suit stood.

You glanced at the faint lens you could barely make out in the dark, and back at the cake, silently swallowing before you took in a breath, and blew out the candles.

With that, your fate was sealed, and the cake was cut.

Of course, it was your favorite flavor, and made just how you liked it. 

Just like how she always made it.

— 

Bonus:

One of the candles is a trick candle, and as it relights it sets off a bomb and the room explodes, the end! :]

[sophiethewitch1]

I wonder how the batboys would be with a reader with a MAJOR interest in foreign languages. I'm not just talking about knowing several languages, I'm talking about a reader who's also capable of using the basics of so many languages that people don't really tend to learn or even know exist (can you imagine casually speaking Burmese or Catalan in front of the boys??), and they know how to read numerous writing systems. Imagine if the Reader's room is just full of language textbooks and their phone is full of language apps

They'd be incredibly impressed, of course. They all know their fair share of languages, considering their job/hobby/personal exercise routine, but the level of effort and care you put in is astounding.

Tim, despite himself, immediately gets competitive about it. He needs to be on the same level as you, and understand you in all ways. And if you love something as much as you love languages, he needs to love it the same way too. So, get ready for quizzes and competitions galore. He probably adds you on Duolingo, even if you didn't give him your contact details, the little stalker. He wants to win (you).

Dick's absolutely over the moon if you decide to research his family's preferred dialect of Romani. He'll happily teach you and you'll have many quiet, whispered conversations together. The language is quite romantic (it is actually a romance language), just like he is, and he probably starts flirting with you all the time in Romani. Just, constantly hitting on you, but in a way only you can understand, so he doesn't get too embarrassed. Flirt back using his mother tongue, and you'll have a swooning Dick Grayson on your hands.

Damian sees this as a grand opportunity to invite you closer into his space. His family has connections in all of the Middle East and further, and he's got access to thousands of ancient documents in hundreds of languages. Is very smug every time you ask him for his help or a book you think he might have. Which, of course, he does. Even if he doesn't he'll have it soon, so don't go asking the others, alright?

Jason 'number one Shakespeare fan' Todd suggests you start learning some old English with him. And like actual old English, not early modern English like Shakespeare actually used. Enjoys reading classic Russian novels like Dostoevsky in the original text to you. Will also quiz you, but in a chill, uncompetitive way.