Light

[lilbachi]

LEARNING FILIPINO WITH IZANA ...

ft. izana kurokawa

izana, who doesn't know much about his biological mother or the philippines, who takes it upon himself one day to look for a language learning book because he's seen the way your eyes sparkle when you talk to him about your own culture– and it reminds him that there's so much of himself left to discover.

izana, who pages through the book with a guarded curiousity, slowly pronouncing words with syllables that feel foreign to him... yet the more than he says the words, the more at home they feel on his lips

izana, who of course has to skip to the longest word possible that he sets his eyes on because he's the king and he needs something to flex to his monolingual underlings "i speak two languages, unlike you guys who only speak one!" but once he believes he's mastered whatever that happens to be, he'll find himself after hours, alone, with his fingers trailing over the words he's truly curious about– pamilya (family). kapatid (sibling). kuya (older brother).

then, "this is dumb– who needs this?" he'll mutter with a scoff, shutting the book abruptly and rolling his eyes.

izana, who'll check the book out at the front desk, anyway.

izana, who's excited to go home and teach you some new words– and yes, he'll mispronounce more than half of them, but it's okay because he'll get the most important ones correct... and even when he doesn't, the meaning is still all there when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close mumbing "mahal kita" (i love you).

© LILBACHI 2026. dividers by v6que.

[flwergrave]

[NOT] RECIPROCATED 𖦹 hajime kokonoi x fem!reader — in love with her memory.

SUMMARY: You remain devoted to the man you love, only to realize that his heart still belongs to someone else.

WORDS: 356; spanish version here (wattpad)

unrequited love, unhealthy romantic dynamics.

note: due to plot necessity, the reader is described as a woman with brown eyes and long blonde hair., sorry :(

⠀⠀Your lips resembled the delicate blossoms of a cherry tree, tinted with that sweet shade of pink, and your love-struck gaze was the clearest image of the purest kind of love. You felt happy whenever you were with him, whenever you felt his hands resting on your waist and his lips tracing the delicate lines that shaped your neck. Felt happy when those affectionate words spilled from his lips, declaring his love, when his eyes looked at you as though you were the most precious jewel his dark irises had ever beheld.

⠀⠀You were happy and in love, and yet, you also felt alone. Those slanted eyes that looked at you so deeply, yet so emptily at the same time, sent chills down your spine and raised goosebumps across your skin, and it was a feeling you liked. You were in love with a vile lie, living a false love story with no happy ending, at least not for you.

⠀⠀Foolishly, you accepted that first kiss, daydreaming that it would be the first of many; meanwhile, he knew it would be the last. Foolish of you to fall so completely for that sweet yet hollow caress, clever of him to pull away. You clung to him, longing for a sincere love, one Hajime could never give you, for he did not love you, he loved what you represented. His empty gazes were directed beyond your very being, ignoring your beautiful, wide brown eyes, replacing them with envious blue irises that looked at him with love. They did not hide behind fine long dark lashes, but behind pale and fuller ones. Your tousled golden hair transformed into short, straight locks adorned with a perfect fringe. Your figure was no longer yours; in Hajime's eyes, it became slender and pale-skinned.

⠀⠀Your love was lost, condemned to the pain of something that could never be. Mutual was the word on everyone's lips when they described your romance; however, no one looked beyond your gazes to discover that it was not so and realize that, in truth, it never had been. You loved Kokonoi with all your madness, to the point of remaining by his side simply so you would never have to watch him suffer again. Hajime loved Akane even after the passing of years, taking advantage of your cruel daydream so that he could bring her back to life once more; he lived within his own waking dream, one in which the two of them loved each other. Hajime was the cradle of your doomed and lost romance, one that was never returned.

© flwergrave 2026, do not repost, copy, translate or claim as your own. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated <3 ⠀♡⠀dividers by @uzmacchiato

@fireriyu tokyo revengers content !!

[vmlnrzmp4]

⟡ ── sick babies | TOKYO REVENGERS

papa!au + bonten executives + hanma

✦ SANZU HARUCHIYO

when the nurse enters with a syringe, himari, scared, climbs on your lap, hiding her face in your shoulder.

"it's ok baby, it's just...like an ant bite," you try to pull her away from you but she held on tightly.

and then, ofcourse, haru intervened, "give me the damn syringe."

the nurse's eyes widen, "sir we cant—"

"she trusts me. not a stranger."

"haruchiyo," you call his name sternly.

he clicks his tongue, sitting beside as he takes himari on his lap. "make it quick," he gives the poor nurse a glare. when himari winces, he places a lingering kiss on her forehead. and that was enough for her to stop crying.

✦ HAITANI RAN

you already feel yua tense up beside you when she sees the needle, "mama what's that?" she asks, trembling.

"it will make you feel better," you say, brushing her bangs gently.

ran kneels beside the bed, holding her hands, "wanna know a secret?"

"...mhm?"

"when uncle rindou was a kid, he would cry the moment we mention taking him to the hospital. all tears flowing down and nose snotty." just like that, he threw his own brother under the bus to make yua laugh. while she was distracted, the nurse sneakily injects the syringe. she flinches but ran had held her tightly, "see? big girl, didn't even cry."

✦ HAITANI RINDOU

rina has a phobia of needles :( but the shot was necessary.

"no..." she mumbled, her voice full of fear as she backed up on the bed. rindou was heartbroken when he looked at her. he actually asked if there was an alternative. there wasn't. he sighed, pulling rina onto his lap, "papa i don't wan' it. please. i really don't wan' it."

he cuddled her closer, feeling her tears mess up his shirt.

"rindou..." you call.

"i know. just give her a moment," he rubbed her back. when the shot was done, she was still shaking and crying so much. rindou didn't let go of her, not even after she fell asleep. he held her close.

✦ KOKONOI HAJIME

"noooo! don't wan' it!" miyu stood up on the bed. the nurse holding the syringe tries to tell her to stay put and that it won't hurt at all. to which miyu counters saying that the nurse is a liar and that it was the same thing she said last time.

"miyu," you call, "sit down baby"

"no!" she yells with her whole tiny self, almost slipping but ofcourse he papa was there to grab her and place her on his lap.

"miyu," his voice was stern, "look at me."

"no!" she looked away, her eyes tightly shut. he started bribing her with whole lotta stuff but the only thing that made her eyes widen was that he won't play princess with her anymore if she doesn't listen. when the shot was given, she held onto her papa's hands so tightly.

later, miyu, in her papa's arms walked out of the hospital as if walking away from a war.

✦ KAKUCHO

hana didn't cry or throw a tantrum. she was just...tired. her cheeks red, eyes halfway close, forehead burning as she leans towards kakucho's chest on his lap.

she held onto his shirt tighter when she sees the needle. she looked at you, and held your hand. afterall, she needed moral support from both mama and papa.

"it's ok baby," you whisper.

kakucho kissed the top of her head, resting her cheek there, "papa's got you."

when the nurse gets a nod from you, she steps forward. hana whimpers as the needle goes in, "that's it, just a little more."

she looked up, mustering up a smile, "done?"

"yes baby, it's done. you're the bravest."

✦ HANMA SHUJI

the nurses pointed at the room, "she's in but she's not letting us—" the nurse didn't even say the whole sentence, he was already in. there he saw rui. under the bed. and you crouched down, trying to get her to listen.

"come out before i drag you," he warns.

"no!" rui yells from under the bed. and what did he do then? he flipped the bed, pulling rui up.

the nurses had their jaw on the floor as they saw the scene: the bed flipped, you trying to get rui to calm down as she did her best to wiggle out but shuji held her firmly(he's the only one who can do that.)

the shot was finally given after you, shuji and two other nurses held her.

"i hate you!" she yells.

"yeah yeah, get in line."

"...sorry. i love you."

he grins, "i love you too."

[nagumoan]

Getting interrupted during sex by an important phone call, watching your lover slip out of you and stumble out of the sheets to pick up the call.

Catching their gaze when they give you an apologetic look, their phone pressed to their ear. Spreading your legs to tease them, leaning back languidly as you start to touch yourself, while listening to them lose track of the conversation they're supposed to be participating in

[swopy]

Masterlist

—————————————————————————

Tokyo Revengers Works!

Baji Keisuke

Hanma Shuji

Izana Kurokawa

Kakucho

Kanji Mochizuki

Kazutora Hanemiya

Manjiro Sano

Ran Haitani

Rindou Haitani

Sanzu Haruchiyo

Shion Madarame

Multiple character Work’s

—————————————————————————

[swopy]

Lifted tension

Izana Kurokawa x Reader - stuck in a lift! 

Summary: Somewhere between awkward teasing and dim lights, you start realizing that he maybe likes you just as much as you like him.

Warnings: none.

Here is my Masterlist!!

—————————————————————————

The first few times you met Izana Kurokawa, he barely spoke to you.

Not in a rude way exactly. Well, maybe a little rude.

But that was just how Izana was. He existed around people like someone constantly deciding whether they were worth the effort of interacting with.

Half-lidded lilac eyes, bored expression, voice always calm in that almost detached way that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

You knew him through overlapping friend groups. The Haitani brothers threw parties constantly, and somehow everybody knew everybody.

Your friends knew Ran through club events, Ran knew your roommate on a more personal level, Rindou surprisingly also knew one of your coworkers and eventually you just… kinda kept ending up around them.

Including Izana. Never close. Just enough to notice things. Like how he always sat slightly apart from everyone else but still listened to every conversation.

How he looked much meaner than he actually was or how he acted irritated whenever Emma called him dramatic but still watching over her whenever she happend to be at a hangout. The way his best friend Kakucho understood him almost frighteningly well, which made you realize how normal he actually is.

And unfortunately for you, the more you noticed him, the worse your crush got.

Which was genuinely terrible because Izana Kurokawa was absolutely the type of man who would never like you back.

You’d accepted that already. Maybe.. mostly. Probably.

“Stop staring at him!” your friend muttered one night while fixing her lipstick in the mirror of a club bathroom. “I’m not staring.”

“You’ve looked at him like six times.”

“Maybe he just keeps existing in my line of sight.”

“Mhmm sure.” Yeah shes totally not believing you.

You rolled your eyes, but the second you stepped back into the club your gaze found him automatically anyway. Izana leaned against the bar beside Kakucho, dressed entirely in black like always.

Silver jewelry glinted under the neon lights when he lifted his drink. And then, like he felt you looking, his eyes shifted toward yours immediately.

Your stomach flipped. Fuck. He held your gaze for exactly two seconds before speaking to Kakucho again. No reaction nor an expression. Nothing. You looked away first. He probably thinks you are an idiot.

“See?” your friend whispered beside you. “You’re doomed.” And unfortunately, she was right. Because after that, things somehow became worse.

Izana started talking to you more. Not consistently enough to mean anything. Just enough to confuse you. At another party, he sat beside you on the balcony for almost an hour, barely speaking while the city lights glowed below. Somehow the silence hadn’t felt awkward.

Another time he walked you to the train station after everyone else left because “it’s late.” When you thanked him, he just shrugged and muttered, “You’d probably get kidnapped alone.” You honestly couldn’t tell if that was concern or an insult. Probably both.

And then there were moments where you caught him looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice. Quick moments. Gone almost instantly.

All was enough to make you overthink everything.

Enough to make you stupidly hopeful.

Until he’d go right back to acting emotionally unavailable again. So yeah. You had accepted the crush would stay onesided. Whats with this guy and mixed signals honestly?!

Which made it especially unfortunate when you arrived at the Haitani brothers’ penthouse party and saw Izana standing alone in the lobby. Your heart immediately betrayed you.

Ran had rented out the top floor of some absurdly expensive building for the night. Music already echoed faintly through the walls upstairs while groups of people filtered into elevators laughing loudly.

Izana stood near the wall scrolling through his phone, looking deeply unimpressed by existence itself. Black button-up. Dark rings. White hair falling into his eyes.

This is actually unfair. You almost turned around. Then he looked up. His gaze landed on you immediately. There was a pause. Not awkward exactly. Just aware. “You’re late,” he said.

You frowned. “Hello to you too.”

“You’re still late.”

“You sound like you’ve been waiting for me.” His expression didn’t change, but something flickered briefly in his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.” There it was. The usual teasing.

You rolled your eyes despite the warmth crawling into your face. “Where’s Kakucho?”

“He’ll catch up.”

“So you’re alone?”

“For now.” The elevator dinged softly beside the two of you. The doors slid open. Neither of you moved for a second. Then Izana gestured lazily. “You getting in or what?”

You stepped inside together. And suddenly the air felt different. Too quiet. Too small.

The elevator doors closed smoothly as it began rising. You stared very hard at the glowing floor numbers. Beside you, Izana leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. “You’re dressed different,” he said after a moment. You glanced at him suspiciously. “Different good or different bad?”

“You care what I think?” Your stomach flipped annoyingly.

“No.” Yes.

“Liar.” You looked away immediately. “You’re irritating.”

“Hm.” Silence settled again. Not uncomfortable. Just heavy. You could hear the quiet hum of the elevator, distant music from somewhere above, your own heartbeat being embarrassingly loud. Then Izana spoke again. “You look nice.” You blinked.

“…What?” He shrugged lightly, eyes still forward. “You heard me.” The words sounded strangely stiff coming from him. Like he wasn’t used to saying things like that out loud. You stared for a second too long.

And because Izana apparently couldn’t survive sincerity for more than five seconds, he added flatly: “Your outfit usually sucks.” You burst out laughing. “There it is.”

“What?”

“The emotional damage.”

“You smiled though.”

“You’re unbelievable.” A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. And then;

The elevator jerked violently. You stumbled sideways with a gasp as the lights flickered overhead. “What the hell-” Everything stopped. Complete silence. Emergency lights blinked on dimly, flooding the elevator in muted orange. You stared upward slowly.

“No.” Izana immediately pressed several buttons. Nothing happened.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Static crackled through the speaker overhead. “Maintenance has been contacted. Please remain calm.” Then silence again. You looked at Izana. He looked at the elevator doors like he personally held a grudge against them now.

“We’re stuck,” you said. “I noticed.” He answered.

“This is horrible..” Why would this happen to you now?

“It’s an elevator.”

“That stopped moving.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You’re emotionally repressed.” He glanced sideways at you. “That doesn’t even make sense here.”

“It always applies to you.” To your surprise, he laughed quietly. Actually laughed. The sound startled you enough that you just stared at him. Izana noticed immediately. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You laughed.”

“…So?”

“You never laugh.”

“I literally do.”

“You smirk. That was different.” He clicked his tongue and looked away, strangely avoiding your eyes now. And suddenly

something shifted. You noticed it slowly after that. The cracks in the act. Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? An act. Not fully fake. Izana was still stubborn and difficult and occasionally kind of an ass.

But underneath all of that was someone awkward. Someone careful. Someone who genuinely did not know what to do with softness once it involved himself.

The realization settled slowly while the two of you sat on opposite sides of the elevator floor waiting for maintenance. He kept pretending not to care while obviously caring. When the elevator lights flickered again and you flinched slightly, his eyes immediately snapped toward you. “You scared?”

“No.”

“You grabbed the railing.”

“…Maybe a little.”

“Hm.” A minute later, he quietly moved closer to your side of the elevator.

Not enough to acknowledge. Just enough. Later, when you complained about your feet hurting from your shoes, he stared at you for a second before saying: “Take them off then.”

“I’ll look short.”

“You are short.”

“Oh my god.”

“But I don’t care.” Your chest tightened.

And every time things got even slightly too genuine, Izana would immediately ruin the moment on purpose. Like he was embarrassed by intimacy itself.

“You know,” you said eventually, resting your head against the wall, “before this, I genuinely thought you hated me for a while.” Izana looked offended.

“Why?”

“You always stare at me like you’re judging me.”

“I am judging you.”

“See?!”

“But I don’t hate you.” The words came

quickly this time. Too quickly. Like instinct. You went quiet. So did he. And suddenly the elevator felt much smaller. Izana rubbed the back of his neck once before looking away. “You talk a lot.” You stared at him flatly. “That is not a compliment.”

“I know.”

“…Okay.” A pause.

Then quieter.. “It’s nice though.” Your heart nearly stopped. Izana immediately looked irritated at himself afterward, like he regretted letting the thought escape.

And that was when you finally understood.

Oh.

Oh, he liked you.

Not in a smooth way. Not in a normal way.

But every strange comment, every lingering glance, every moment he stayed near you for no reason suddenly made sense all at once. He liked you. He was just terrible at it.

The realization must’ve shown on your face because Izana narrowed his eyes slightly.

“What?”

“You’re awkward.” His expression immediately flattened. “I’m not.”

“You are.” Maybe this time, you came a little closer to figuring this guy out.

“I’m literally not.”

“You keep saying something nice and then immediately insulting me after.”

“That’s not awkward.”

“That’s panicking.”

“I don’t panic.” You laughed softly.

And for the first time all night, Izana looked genuinely unsettled. Not angry. Not cold. Just… vulnerable. Like you’d figured something out he wasn’t ready for you to know.

The elevator suddenly jolted beneath you. Both of you looked up. A second later, the lights fully returned. The elevator resumed moving. You blinked. “Oh.” A cheerful ding echoed moments later as the doors slid open directly into loud music and flashing penthouse lights.

People moved around the massive apartment laughing, dancing, shouting over music. Normal party chaos. But neither of you stood immediately. For one strange second, the world outside the elevator felt distant.

Then Izana got up first. He offered you a hand without looking directly at you.

Your stomach flipped again.

You took it. His fingers tightened around yours briefly while helping you stand. And then he didn’t let go right away. Just for a second. Long enough to matter.

When he finally released your hand, he glanced toward the crowded party with visible annoyance before looking back at you.

“Stay near me tonight.” Your breath caught slightly.

“..Why?” Izana stared at you for a moment too long. Then, quieter than before:

“Because I want to.” Firmly.

—————————————————————————

A/o: ‘Lifted tension’ bc they are stuck in a lift..do you get it?

Thanks sm for reading!!

[htaru]

[lilbachi]

PERVERT! ft. hakkai shiba, haruchiyo sanzu, kazutora hanemiya (+ yuzuha shiba cameo) ♡

mdni, afab! reader (no pronouns mentioned). reader is sapphic in hakkai's. DARK CONTENT (nonconsensual voyeurism and filming, stalking, break-in, some victim(?)-blaming in tora's), somno (mention only).

perv! hakkai, who knows it's all sorts of wrong to lust after his sister's best friend, but he can't help it– you're just so cool. you even helped set up his big sister's fan club at school. he took it upon himself to ask mitsuya for advice on how to approach you, the poor baby, but he knew in his heart that he'd never muster up the courage to ask you out. that's how hakkai found himself with his ear pressed to yuzuha's bedroom door while you were over hanging with her, listening intently for the sweet sound of your voice with his hand wrapped around his thick cock, his other hand tightly clamped around his mouth as he tried to get himself off quickly as to not get caught. this would just have to be his little secret!!! now, imagine the surprise when he hears you moaning on the other side of the door– his big sister's name on your lips, no less!

perv! sanzu, who's been obsessed with you since the day you told him to fuck off. what can he say– he's always wanted what he can't have (oh, haruchiyo, what will we do with you...). he couldn’t help but stalk you, talking creep shots of you from afar when he knew you weren't looking (canon... have we seen that pic of sanzu pulling his phone out at mikey from the alley? lil fuckin' freak :p). his camera roll is full of flics of you, and the worst part is he's not ashamed of it in the slightest. that quick (and mildly embarrassing) tumble down the stairs he had to take just to snap a shot of the little lace panties from under your short skirt was so worth it, by the way. anything to get a look at the shape of that pretty, perfect pussy.

perv! kazutora, whose been putting those breaking-in skills to good use. he can’t deny it; there’s an endorphin rush he gets every time he sneaks into your bedroom, especially while you’re sleeping so softly, your body just a crumpled mess in the sheets. he likes to rummage through your laundry basket for your dirty panties and take them like souvenirs. you can bet the desperate boy holds them up to his nose and takes a good, deep sniff while he clumsily fists his cock late at night to the thought of you sleeping serenely– and as much as i hate to say it, each soiled pair goes right back in your dirty laundry pile after because he’s convinced you would have stopped him sooner if you didn’t want him sneaking around you this way. i mean... you must know he's got the hots for you, right?

© LILBACHI 2026. dividers by v6que.

[rawppongi]

you were saying?

rindou haitani x afab! reader

1.1k words

summary: rindou's always got your back. he’s that reliable friend who’s always there when you need him. no strings attached included.

but calling him by another guy’s name? he's making sure you won't commit that mistake twice.

tags: mdni 18+, friends with benefits rindou, jealous rindou, oral (f.receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names

🎴🎌 ctto of this scrumptious fanart <33

the low and rhythmic hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the apartment, barely masking the slick noises coming from in between your legs.

"damn, this wet for me already?"

rindou’s face was practically pressed against your thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin just seconds before his tongue made another one of that slow and punishing drag upwards your slit.

just an hour ago, you were sitting on the couch with your legs tucked under you, waving your glass around as you vented your lungs out.

you’d been complaining about some guy. someone who was supposed to be perfect, or seemed to be at least, whose flags couldn't have seemed any greener, only to turn out to be a total and underwhelming disappointment.

rindou had been leaning back on the other end, his arms stretched out along the back of the sofa, watching you with that usual half amused look on his face.

"i'm telling you rin, he literally checked every box," you had groaned, tossing your head back against the cushions. "how do you go from sending good morning texts to being completely insufferable in three weeks?"

rindou had just let out a soft, dry snort, taking a slow sip of his drink. “how honest do you want me to be?”

“honest honest.”

“try not to kill me after,”

“ugh, you're so annoying-”

"and you have a terrible taste in men. plus, you fall for the bare minimum every single time. 'checked every box' my ass, the bar is in hell for you."

"shut up. he was nice."

"he's got his face set as his lockscreen," rindou replied dryly, looking over at you through his glasses. "that was your first warning. you just ignore everything until they bore you to death."

"hey! i don't ignore-"

"you do. and then you call me to sit here and listen to you whine about it while you drink my alcohol stash." he shifted closer to you, placing his headset and long forgotten magazine on the coffee table, his eyes narrowing slightly as his tone dropped. "you waste so much time on guys who don't even know what to do with you."

classic rindou. he’d roast you, call out your bad decisions, and then seamlessly bridge the gap between you.

it was a routine you two had slipped into months ago.

no emotional mess, no actual dating, just a reliable friends with benefits setup where he made sure every single bit of your frustration was taken care of before the night was over.

which was exactly how you ended up on your back, clothes scattered across the floor, with rindou’s head between your legs.

until now.

you were trembling, practically pinned to the sheets. rindou was buried deep between your thighs, his fingers digging bruised marks into your hips to hold you still while he ate you out with a relentless precision.

your hand was tangled messily in his soft hair, pulling him closer one second and trying to push him away the next as the intensity threatened to pull you under. your other hand searched blindly across the bed, gripping whatever fabric it could find just to stay grounded.

he knew every exact spot to hit, flicking his tongue over your center until your back arched.

"ah- shit!" you gasped out, your mind completely scrambled by the pleasure, blurred with the lingering frustration of the guy you’d been whining about earlier.

you whined, your mouth slipping the guy's name unconsciously.

the motion stopped instantly.

the room fell into a dead and suffocating silence.

for two excruciating seconds, rindou didn't move. his face remained buried against your thigh, his breath suddenly heavy and rigid.

then, in one sharp motion, rindou pulled back. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. reaching up, he slid his glasses off his face and tossed them onto the nightstand, leaving his unshielded eyes entirely exposed, stripped completely of their usual calm.

"what did you just say?" his voice dropped to a pitch so low it sent a cold shiver straight down your spine.

"rin- i didn't... it was an accide-"

he didn't even let you finish.

in a swift movement, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you onto your stomach. you barely had time to gasp before he pinned you flat against the mattress, his weight coming down over you.

he lined himself up and drove straight into you from behind in one brutal and unyielding motion.

a sharp cry was pushed right out of your lungs as he filled you completely, stretching you open with a suddenness that made your eyes water.

"rindou- ah! fuck i can't-" you sobbed into the pillows, your body tightening around him in shock.

"yes,"

thrust.

"you,"

thrust.

"can,"

thrust.

"fucking take it."

he slammed into you without a shred of restraint, his pace turning fast and utterly punishing. the sheer force of his hips kept your face smashed down into the sheets, the friction making your toes curl as he drove you deep into the mattress.

you tried to speak, tried to cry out his name, but your voice was completely muffled by the fabric under your face. rindou stopped for a fraction of a second, frustrated by the muffled sound.

"can't hear you, baby," he rasped into the back of your neck.

with one powerful surge, he wrapped an arm around your ribs and yanked you up off the mattress, pulling your upper body back until your spine was pressed flush against his chest.

his left hand moved straight to your throat, long fingers wrapping around your neck. not choking, just holding you firm, tilting your head back against his shoulder, while his right hand clamped hard onto your hip to keep you anchored right where he wanted you.

from this angle, every thrust went impossibly deeper. not gonna lie, it felt like you'd tear lengthwise.

"you were saying?" rindou muttered directly into your ear, his chest heaving against your back. "who's fucking you right now?"

"ugh fuck- rin!" you gasped out, exposed and completely helpless in his grip as he drove you straight to the edge, your head resting back against his neck while his hand held your throat steady.

"good girl," he muttered, his voice a breathless rasp as he picked up the pace, his grip on your neck and hip tightening until you completely shattered beneath him.

waves of overstimulation crashed over you, your body convulsing against his as you climaxed, your throat letting out broken, breathless sounds into the quiet room.

​rindou didn't slow down for a single second. hearing his name torn from your lips while you tightened helplessly around him pushed him completely past his limit. his breathing turned ragged, his hips driving into you with a final, desperate brutality, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go.

"next time you want to moan another guy's name," he rasped, his thumb dragging rough across your bottom lip, "get up and go to his bed. but while you're taking all of me? the only name coming out of your mouth is mine.”

[orangeboulevard]

I Will See You, Don't Worry

You're sick, but your family seems to think you're faking it. Things take a turn for the worse- or maybe for the better, you'll never have to be alone again.

(Neglected Bat-family member GN!Reader & Venom Symbiote [marvel]) / crossover

Word count: 11.7 pages / 4162 words

CW: child neglect, mentions of blood and vomiting, minor gore

You haven't been feeling well. 

Every waking minute felt like a gargantuan effort to keep breathing, to keep blinking, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. You had a perpetual fever and a cold sweat forming rings of perspiration on your night clothes- you couldn't find the strength to change, much less shower or eat. Concerning eating, your stomach felt like a black hole consuming you from the inside out. No matter how much food you stuffed down your face (entire loaves of bread, boxes of cereal, frozen fish and shrimps, raw eggs, uncooked cuts of meat), it never quelled the ache.

Alfred had been the only one to note your deteriorating health, and when he had the time in between taking care of the rest of the family and patching them up after patrols, he tried his best to soothe your pain. The painkillers would give you five blissful hours of relief, dreamless sleep, before you find yourself startling back awake, the pain in your stomach worse than before. Maybe it was appendicitis? 

Alfred tried to do a preliminary check, but found nothing indicating illness or organ failure; you can actively see his patience for your pain decreasing. You're not making it up; you feel like you're dying. Alfred doesn't seem to think so, he's stopped giving you those little white tabs of heaven- codeine, then cocodomal, then just paracetamol, before just soothing lemon tea. You're not making up this pain. 

You haven't been feeling well. 

You've been hearing a voice in your head- auditory hallucinations from mental exhaustion, you had tried to reason-. The guttural foreign tone of the voice, the way it'd whisper to you in the dark of night as you tossed and turned, clutching your stomach, the way it promised relief from all your pain if you simply gave into it- you were starting to believe you were on the verge of psychosis. You avoided mirrors; the first time seeing those black pools of all-seeing nothingness had been enough to send your heart into overdrive and freak you out enough to start crying. 

Tim had found you shortly after, holding your knees to yourself as you wracked out tired sobs. He'd been concerned at first, trying to find out what was wrong, when he discovered no physical injury and your almost nonsensical ramblings about seeing something else's eyes in the mirror, he remembered Alfred's words about your 'illness'. 

It made sense, Tim reasoned to himself, that you were acting out to get attention; the rest of the family was very busy with vigilante life and couldn't spend much time with you, but you were eighteen now, too old for childish shenanigans like faking illnesses. He'd helped you back to your room like a parent humouring a child about checking for monsters under the bed, and tucked you in, closing the door after him- leaving you to the dark, to the pain, and to the voice that cooed at your loneliness and despair. 

You haven't been feeling well. 

It was apparent now as you stumbled slowly to breakfast. Alfred had summoned you from your room, at his wit's end with your Munchausen's act. He declared that you'd feel better after getting out of your bed and having breakfast with the rest of the family while forcing your curtains open and opening the window- the light stung, and the shrill chirping of the birds rang in your ears. He'd left your door open for you to follow. 

Maybe you were just making all this up? You thought to yourself as you held the porcelain basin with shaking, sweaty hands. Eyes downturned from the mirror, you refused to look into it even now, a nauseating feeling in your stomach forming as you thought about the monster that was waiting for you inside it. What the fuck were you thinking? There was no monster, no pain, no illness; you were fine. Alfred said so; you weren't sick. The piercing pain in your stomach was probably just hunger pangs. You could smell breakfast; your disgust with the smell of grease and cooked meat was probably hormones or something.

You shove your feet into your slippers and stumble slowly to breakfast. You were dizzy, so dizzy. Your breathing was short. The pain in your stomach was spreading to your lungs. The sounds of your family laughing and chattering made you want to cry at how much it was grating on your sensitive ears. You pushed open the door to the dining room, and no one looked your way besides Alfred, who was nodding in approval at your effort to rejoin normal activities before resuming his usual tasks. 

You wanted to cry for him to come back from the kitchen, your head was feeling fuzzy and warm, and you could barely breathe. Something is wrong! Something is wrong, and your family isn't even looking at you.

Dick is teasing Jason about the new romance book trilogy he's obsessed with. 'They're ignoring you.'

Tim is debating with Damian about some details of a case. 'You don't even exist to them.'

Stephanie is laughing as she fills Cass in on the details of her patrol last night. 'You exist to me, you're all that is.'

Bruce is reading documents on his tablet while also listening to Duke's words about his latest basketball game. 'You can be so much more, we can be so much more.'

You clutch your hands to your head. This voice- why won't it shut up! You're not crazy, you're not hearing voices, you're not in pain, you're not dying. Why won't your stupid body get the memo? You're not trying to be an attention seeker- how can you be if your family doesn't even look at you when you're standing right here? You're a good kid, the best one could ask for, the kind that doesn't even get upset that their family doesn't actually know them, the kind that understands that the needs of the many, the needs of Gotham, take precedence over their need for love, to be noticed, to be held or comforted. One kid doesn't matter in the face of an entire city. 

"-Will you sit down?" You missed the first part of Alfred's words, his impassive, perhaps slightly annoyed expression stings, he must think you're on your Munchausen's act again. You find the family looking at you, really looking at you now. Your shaking figure, the dark eye bags, the sweating and pale face. 

Bruce looks back down at his screen, "Do as Alfred says, kiddo." That's it. The first acknowledgement in months, followed by complete dismissal. The rest of the family does the same. Why won't they look at you? Resuming their previous conversations as if you're not falling apart right in front of them. Why can't they see you dying in front of them? Like one more step isn't going to make you spew onto the white marble floor.

There's bubbling rage in your stomach.  You exist, don't you? Why won't they look at you? Can't they see you? WHY CAN'T THEY SEE YOU? "WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME?!" The words spill from your lips before you can even think about stopping them, like something else is forcing them from your throat. It's all but snarled out, your voice cracking with anger and pain and everything you've been suffering over the last weeks.

The table stills in utter shock. Never once had you dared to raise your voice like that at authority figures or family members.

Bruce places his tablet down, ready to presumably lecture you or something- he doesn't know how to approach this. You'd never been a rebellious kid- well behaved to the point he'd wished you'd do something stupid like a normal kid, he just wanted you to be a normal kid like he never got to be, like your siblings never got to be. This was the first time he'd ever seen you act out, a little late for a rebellious phase, but he'd take it.

He doesn't get to even speak because you're suddenly hunching over and vomiting onto the floor. Dark red spewing from your mouth as you cough and gag on the blood. 

Jason, who's closest to you currently, leaps from his seat to avoid being hurled on. "Jesus fucking christ!"

Alfred's immediately by your side, pushing your hair back and shoving a bucket in front of you for you to empty into. Your chest is hurting more from the heaving, and you can't help the tired, pathetic sobs. Alfred's petting your hair, tone heavy with guilt, "Oh dear, oh dear, you're okay."

You think it's Bruce beside you also, big hands pulling your shirt up enough to scan over your stomach, looking for bruising- any indication of trauma which could result in internal bleeding- people don't just start throwing up blood for no reason. He finds nothing, and that worries him more. The rest of your family is whispering, watching in concern when Bruce picks you up in his arms like a little kid. "Ready the medbay, Alfred. Timothy, I want to know when this started and how." 

"On it," Tim follows after them, opening his laptop to the manor security footage. If you'd injured yourself here, he'd find out. 

"Where does it hurt?" Alfred is asking as Bruce lays you down on a bed. You gesture to your chest and up, sobbing as you choke out, "All of it, it hurts- I told you it hurt, I told you- I told you!-"

He shushes you, pushing you some morphine for the pain, "-I know, I know, I'm sorry, dear, I'm sorry." He exchanges words with Bruce over you, but the immediate absence of pain finally gives you enough relief to sleep- you've been awake for three days at the point. Your eyes flutter shut, and the dreamless void is a welcome embrace.

"Nothing?" Bruce sighs.

Tim rubs his forehead, the gesture he does when something is particularly confusing him; it doesn't happen often. "I've checked all the manor's footage from when the symptoms started, the week beforehand, the school's footage too- nothing happened which would cause this. We're gonna need Dr Thompkins, an MRI and a tox screen, most likely, because I can't tell you what happened or what to do to fix it." 

He's tucking your still form into the bed properly, like he had done weeks ago, thinking you were just pretending to be ill. God, he was supposed to be smarter than this; he, of all people, should have caught this. Now his ignorance has resulted in his baby sibling on the verge of being hospitalised or... he can't even consider that you could be dying. He won't let it happen. 

"I must personally apologise, Master Bruce." Tim glances over at Alfred. The usually stoic butler is bearing an expression he's never seen before: remorse, guilt, and anger. His hands are shaking as he clasps them together, looking over your bedridden form. "I had dismissed this as some juvenile attempt to gain attention. The progression of this ailment is a direct result of my indolence, if I hadn't failed to act, perhaps we may have sooner-"

Bruce raises his hand to stop the butler, "What is done is done. We're all guilty in part for letting someone under our roof deteriorate to such a state without notice. How quickly can Leslie have the clinic ready for us?"

"She says in five minutes, she was already working late," Tim looks up from where he's in correspondence with the doctor, "I'll come with-"

"No." Bruce picks up your sleeping figure. He remembers holding you like this when you were so much smaller, when all of you could fit on his chest entirely, little feet cupped in his hand, precious head tucked under his chin- when had he stopped holding you? "I need you to find whatever you can- if this was an attack meant for us, we'll need to know the source to find an antidote or cure. Contact Oracle if you have to."

Tim nods in understanding, even if his tensed shoulders betray his hesitation. The other members of the Bat-family who have gathered in the other atrium of the Batcave are ready to volunteer to go in his stead. Damian is particularly impassioned, arguing something about 'blood siblings' and how you're 'the heir' (everything he's refused to acknowledge you as until this very moment- if anyone realises, they don't call him out), and that means he must obviously be the one who accompanies his father to the hospital. 

Dick is the one who ends up going as the oldest; he's driving as Bruce holds you in the back seat of the Batmobile, cleaning the dried blood from the corner of your mouth. You feel too thin, malnourished, the fat of your cheeks sunken in- the more he gazes at your face, the more he realises how obvious it was that something was wrong. Why hadn't he just looked at your face and seen this? How can he hold the title of the world's greatest detective if he can't even clock a life-threatening illness in his own child? 

"Bruce. We're here." Dick's voice is pulling from his thoughts, and it's a blur as they get you inside the clinic. Leslie's waiting, and her usually steely resolve falters when she sees you. She's never met you before, which is a good thing; she's never had to stitch you back together, pump poison from your system, snap bones back into place like your other family members- you were the one kid Bruce had told her was a civilian. So why were you here now?

She's filled in on the details as you're wheeled to the MRI machine, she almost curses them out right then and there- you'd been like this for weeks, and they hadn't brought you here sooner? She manages to maintain her professionalism by a hair's thread, instructing Dick and Bruce to wait in the adjacent room as she situates you inside the MRI machine. 

She enters the observation room to Dick pacing and Bruce muttering, "How long until we can know the results?" His dark eyes watch you through the glass as Leslie begins to activate the machine, the high-pitched whirring audible as the lights flash on. 

"Usually it'd-" Her words are cut off by the sound of your screams. Bruce's blood runs cold, and Dick freezes.

It's a sound of abject torture; it's a sound he never thought he'd hear from you, never wants to hear it again- your legs, the only thing visible of you to them right now, are seizing violently- "Turn it off!" Bruce shouts, already rushing from the room towards where you are, Dick close behind. Leslie quickly powers down the machine, and the bed extends out.

You're awake now, gasping desperately as you sit up quickly. Bruce is holding you by your arms, "Hey, hey- breathe, breathe, in and out, sweetheart." You clutch onto him as you take in shuddering gasps. Dick is rubbing your back, and Leslie is the last to come in, stethoscope on and flashlight prepared to take lucidity tests. 

You follow her directions, following the light and letting her hear your heart, "Are you doing okay? Any pain, on a scale of one to ten, one being not much and ten being excruciating, describe your pain levels, please."

"S-seven," You're slumped over in Bruce's arms, stomach still aching, the pervading hunger is all that's on your mind. 'No more machine.' Oh, and the voice is back.

'We hunger. We will eat or die.' Sure, disembodied freaky voice in your head, let's eat. You don't care anymore; you just want the hurt to go away. 

You're barely there as Doctor Thompkins explains that she wants to keep you for observation as they wait for the results of the MRI, the little they managed to get, that Bruce and Dick can come back in the morning and that you'd have the very best care as you stayed here. When had you been changed into a hospital gown? You're led to a bed that's not your own, and the door closes behind the nurse after she gets you ready for bed. It's silent for a beat.

'You wish for the pain to stop, little human?' Yes, creepy voice, just make it end.

'Permit me control of the vessel.' Fine.

It's been three days since you went missing.

Leslie had been the one to break the news, apparently, the day nurses went to check on patients during the shift changes and found you absent from your room. The nurse questioned Leslie whether you scheduled to be discharged during the night as soon as the senior entered the clinic for her shift. The answer was an immediate denial and panic. One phone call later, and the Bat-family were made aware. 

CCTV footage was provided to them and showed you slipping from your bed, clad only in a hospital gown, and through the window, an unlucky blind spot of the clinic security footage, as they were unsure which direction you headed after. It completely confused your family as to why the hell you'd run away. Were you delirious from your ailment- were you being threatened- feeling neglected, did you hate them?

The first night was spent in bat costumes, searching the streets, interrogating the usual suspects for any hint of involvement, asking for favours from contacts. It all led to nowhere; it's as if you vanished off the face of the earth. The second day and night were spent the same way. Bruce tried to distract himself from all the possibilities of what could have happened to you by focusing on the investigation- trying not to imagine finally finding you in some dingy warehouse, face beaten beyond recognition, cold and still, the Joker's laugh echoing-

Jason's warm hand brings him back from the present. Bruce has been staring at the hospital footage of you for three hours at this point. He wipes the sweat from his brow, the tension is shoulders hunching them painfully. "We'll find 'em, but we ain't gonna do shit if you're exhausted; we need you at full capacity." 

He knows Jason's right, the lack of sleep was going to do nobody any favours. Before he can argue, the rest of the family is also forcing him out of the batcave and to bed. Alfred's there to make sure he actually enters his bedroom and not his study to continue the investigation.

Bruce permits himself to rest a while, lying in bed. The silence settles with the silk sheets, and for the first time in years, Bruce cries. He just wants his kid back home; he'd never let you out of his sight again when he found you. He can't sleep, not like this. So he finds himself walking to your room.

It's a mess from your weeks of hell, in pain and being dismissed about it. The bed is unmade, the floor a mess, and the place smells of you and sweat and something that might be mango-scented oils. The room is undoubtedly a reflection of you. Unlike the rest of the house, which is decorated in sleek black-and-white gothic style, your room is bright. Your bed frame is yellow, and your sheets are burnt orange.

Your decor is a burst of sunset colours, and the walls are littered with pictures, drawings and posters. Your favourite TV shows and bands, there are pictures of you smiling beside people your own age that he doesn't recognise, your friends? You have a bookcase full of books- some he'd read, some he didn't recognise. There are awards on your shelves, a little Oscar statue for drama, a metal star award for reading, a medal for first place in long jump- he'd never seen any of them before.

There's a whole thick folder of atleast forty certificates, your very first from grade school about creative writing, progressing through to 'for asking good questions all week,' effort, learning, determination, 'football skills', working well, good behaviour, 'advanced reading', 'coming up with scientific theories and how to test them', 'ambition', scripts and picure pamphlets of the school plays and musicals (you'd been in eight- he'd never been to any of them), an acceptance letter for being student principal in middle school, choir letters- a concert tour to Italy that he'd signed off on and paid for but never fully read or realised.

There's a picture of you from kindergarten, and he stares at it. Your little cheeks, big round eyes, chubby hands holding up your mess of a painting proudly, your smile wide on your little face, and god damn it- he just wants his sweet baby back. He'll show up, he promises; it's not too late. You could still need him.

He falls asleep in your bed, your picture clutched to his chest.

It's on the fourth day that you show up.

You casually stroll downstairs to where the family is having a sullen breakfast. They pause at the sight of you- fresh, no longer gaunt, alive, sitting at the table like you haven't been gone for the better part of a whole week. Alfred freezes in the kitchen doorway.

You spread some jam on your toast. "Morning."

Dick drops his fork. Jason and Tim are looking at you, mouths agape; Damian's brows are furrowed in confusion, and Duke beside you is staring wide-eyed. Stephanie and Cass exchange worried glances. 

You're taking a bite of your toast when Bruce stands and rushes to you, enveloping you in a massive hug, "Oh- hey, wow- watch the toast-"

"Watch the toast?!" Dick sputters at your blase words. "Where the hell have you been?" Damian demands. "I thought- we thought-" Stephanie blinks.

"We've been looking everywhere for you. You- you're not ill anymore?" Bruce cups your face, analysing and evaluating; he finds a healthy flush, a lack of those bruise-like eyebags from before, no fever. You seem perfectly fine, better than ever even. 

"I've- uh. I've been around. Hah." Your voice sounds strained. "I'm fine, seriously." 

"Around? Where? Answer me, clearly-" Bruce's expression becomes more suspicious and concerned. 

"I said I'm fine. Would you lay off?" You extract yourself from his grip, getting up to return to your room.

Feeling you slip from his fingers again, a wave of panic washes over him, and Bruce moves to grab your arm. Your body suddenly moves by itself, turning your back to him to judo flip him over your shoulder. Your family gasps, jaws hanging open even further. It's a movement you have no control over, and you know who's responsible.

Venom! What the hell!? We're trying to be lowkey! 'He is what you would call an asshole who has neglected his spawn. I have no sympathy.' You're gonna get me caught!

Suffice it to say, being the teenage civilian you are, being able to judo flip your two-hundred-pound father is an impossible feat, which no doubt raises even more suspicion about where the hell you've been and what has happened to you. Bruce stares up at you from where he's on his back, winded, completely dumbfounded. 

Alfred startles forward, "Master Bruce!-" 

You run past your family, who are jumping to their feet and raising their voices in alarm, and out the closest window. What the hell else can you do when you're hiding a cannibalistic alien parasite in your head? 

'Parasite?!' Sorry, symbiote.

Said symbiote is also responsible for the string of decapitated bodies that your vigilante family would soon find all over Gotham. You won't force them to make the decision to send you to jail if you never get caught by them. It's not like they'd be missing much in your absence anyway. They never did before. 

'I'd miss you.' You're just saying that cuz you'd die without your 'perfect' host.

'Mmm, can both be true?' Idiot.

[orangeboulevard]

I Will See You, Don't Worry

You're sick, but your family seems to think you're faking it. Things take a turn for the worse- or maybe for the better, you'll never have to be alone again.

(Neglected Bat-family member GN!Reader & Venom Symbiote [marvel]) / crossover

Word count: 11.7 pages / 4162 words

CW: child neglect, mentions of blood and vomiting, minor gore

You haven't been feeling well. 

Every waking minute felt like a gargantuan effort to keep breathing, to keep blinking, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. You had a perpetual fever and a cold sweat forming rings of perspiration on your night clothes- you couldn't find the strength to change, much less shower or eat. Concerning eating, your stomach felt like a black hole consuming you from the inside out. No matter how much food you stuffed down your face (entire loaves of bread, boxes of cereal, frozen fish and shrimps, raw eggs, uncooked cuts of meat), it never quelled the ache.

Alfred had been the only one to note your deteriorating health, and when he had the time in between taking care of the rest of the family and patching them up after patrols, he tried his best to soothe your pain. The painkillers would give you five blissful hours of relief, dreamless sleep, before you find yourself startling back awake, the pain in your stomach worse than before. Maybe it was appendicitis? 

Alfred tried to do a preliminary check, but found nothing indicating illness or organ failure; you can actively see his patience for your pain decreasing. You're not making it up; you feel like you're dying. Alfred doesn't seem to think so, he's stopped giving you those little white tabs of heaven- codeine, then cocodomal, then just paracetamol, before just soothing lemon tea. You're not making up this pain. 

You haven't been feeling well. 

You've been hearing a voice in your head- auditory hallucinations from mental exhaustion, you had tried to reason-. The guttural foreign tone of the voice, the way it'd whisper to you in the dark of night as you tossed and turned, clutching your stomach, the way it promised relief from all your pain if you simply gave into it- you were starting to believe you were on the verge of psychosis. You avoided mirrors; the first time seeing those black pools of all-seeing nothingness had been enough to send your heart into overdrive and freak you out enough to start crying. 

Tim had found you shortly after, holding your knees to yourself as you wracked out tired sobs. He'd been concerned at first, trying to find out what was wrong, when he discovered no physical injury and your almost nonsensical ramblings about seeing something else's eyes in the mirror, he remembered Alfred's words about your 'illness'. 

It made sense, Tim reasoned to himself, that you were acting out to get attention; the rest of the family was very busy with vigilante life and couldn't spend much time with you, but you were eighteen now, too old for childish shenanigans like faking illnesses. He'd helped you back to your room like a parent humouring a child about checking for monsters under the bed, and tucked you in, closing the door after him- leaving you to the dark, to the pain, and to the voice that cooed at your loneliness and despair. 

You haven't been feeling well. 

It was apparent now as you stumbled slowly to breakfast. Alfred had summoned you from your room, at his wit's end with your Munchausen's act. He declared that you'd feel better after getting out of your bed and having breakfast with the rest of the family while forcing your curtains open and opening the window- the light stung, and the shrill chirping of the birds rang in your ears. He'd left your door open for you to follow. 

Maybe you were just making all this up? You thought to yourself as you held the porcelain basin with shaking, sweaty hands. Eyes downturned from the mirror, you refused to look into it even now, a nauseating feeling in your stomach forming as you thought about the monster that was waiting for you inside it. What the fuck were you thinking? There was no monster, no pain, no illness; you were fine. Alfred said so; you weren't sick. The piercing pain in your stomach was probably just hunger pangs. You could smell breakfast; your disgust with the smell of grease and cooked meat was probably hormones or something.

You shove your feet into your slippers and stumble slowly to breakfast. You were dizzy, so dizzy. Your breathing was short. The pain in your stomach was spreading to your lungs. The sounds of your family laughing and chattering made you want to cry at how much it was grating on your sensitive ears. You pushed open the door to the dining room, and no one looked your way besides Alfred, who was nodding in approval at your effort to rejoin normal activities before resuming his usual tasks. 

You wanted to cry for him to come back from the kitchen, your head was feeling fuzzy and warm, and you could barely breathe. Something is wrong! Something is wrong, and your family isn't even looking at you.

Dick is teasing Jason about the new romance book trilogy he's obsessed with. 'They're ignoring you.'

Tim is debating with Damian about some details of a case. 'You don't even exist to them.'

Stephanie is laughing as she fills Cass in on the details of her patrol last night. 'You exist to me, you're all that is.'

Bruce is reading documents on his tablet while also listening to Duke's words about his latest basketball game. 'You can be so much more, we can be so much more.'

You clutch your hands to your head. This voice- why won't it shut up! You're not crazy, you're not hearing voices, you're not in pain, you're not dying. Why won't your stupid body get the memo? You're not trying to be an attention seeker- how can you be if your family doesn't even look at you when you're standing right here? You're a good kid, the best one could ask for, the kind that doesn't even get upset that their family doesn't actually know them, the kind that understands that the needs of the many, the needs of Gotham, take precedence over their need for love, to be noticed, to be held or comforted. One kid doesn't matter in the face of an entire city. 

"-Will you sit down?" You missed the first part of Alfred's words, his impassive, perhaps slightly annoyed expression stings, he must think you're on your Munchausen's act again. You find the family looking at you, really looking at you now. Your shaking figure, the dark eye bags, the sweating and pale face. 

Bruce looks back down at his screen, "Do as Alfred says, kiddo." That's it. The first acknowledgement in months, followed by complete dismissal. The rest of the family does the same. Why won't they look at you? Resuming their previous conversations as if you're not falling apart right in front of them. Why can't they see you dying in front of them? Like one more step isn't going to make you spew onto the white marble floor.

There's bubbling rage in your stomach.  You exist, don't you? Why won't they look at you? Can't they see you? WHY CAN'T THEY SEE YOU? "WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME?!" The words spill from your lips before you can even think about stopping them, like something else is forcing them from your throat. It's all but snarled out, your voice cracking with anger and pain and everything you've been suffering over the last weeks.

The table stills in utter shock. Never once had you dared to raise your voice like that at authority figures or family members.

Bruce places his tablet down, ready to presumably lecture you or something- he doesn't know how to approach this. You'd never been a rebellious kid- well behaved to the point he'd wished you'd do something stupid like a normal kid, he just wanted you to be a normal kid like he never got to be, like your siblings never got to be. This was the first time he'd ever seen you act out, a little late for a rebellious phase, but he'd take it.

He doesn't get to even speak because you're suddenly hunching over and vomiting onto the floor. Dark red spewing from your mouth as you cough and gag on the blood. 

Jason, who's closest to you currently, leaps from his seat to avoid being hurled on. "Jesus fucking christ!"

Alfred's immediately by your side, pushing your hair back and shoving a bucket in front of you for you to empty into. Your chest is hurting more from the heaving, and you can't help the tired, pathetic sobs. Alfred's petting your hair, tone heavy with guilt, "Oh dear, oh dear, you're okay."

You think it's Bruce beside you also, big hands pulling your shirt up enough to scan over your stomach, looking for bruising- any indication of trauma which could result in internal bleeding- people don't just start throwing up blood for no reason. He finds nothing, and that worries him more. The rest of your family is whispering, watching in concern when Bruce picks you up in his arms like a little kid. "Ready the medbay, Alfred. Timothy, I want to know when this started and how." 

"On it," Tim follows after them, opening his laptop to the manor security footage. If you'd injured yourself here, he'd find out. 

"Where does it hurt?" Alfred is asking as Bruce lays you down on a bed. You gesture to your chest and up, sobbing as you choke out, "All of it, it hurts- I told you it hurt, I told you- I told you!-"

He shushes you, pushing you some morphine for the pain, "-I know, I know, I'm sorry, dear, I'm sorry." He exchanges words with Bruce over you, but the immediate absence of pain finally gives you enough relief to sleep- you've been awake for three days at the point. Your eyes flutter shut, and the dreamless void is a welcome embrace.

"Nothing?" Bruce sighs.

Tim rubs his forehead, the gesture he does when something is particularly confusing him; it doesn't happen often. "I've checked all the manor's footage from when the symptoms started, the week beforehand, the school's footage too- nothing happened which would cause this. We're gonna need Dr Thompkins, an MRI and a tox screen, most likely, because I can't tell you what happened or what to do to fix it." 

He's tucking your still form into the bed properly, like he had done weeks ago, thinking you were just pretending to be ill. God, he was supposed to be smarter than this; he, of all people, should have caught this. Now his ignorance has resulted in his baby sibling on the verge of being hospitalised or... he can't even consider that you could be dying. He won't let it happen. 

"I must personally apologise, Master Bruce." Tim glances over at Alfred. The usually stoic butler is bearing an expression he's never seen before: remorse, guilt, and anger. His hands are shaking as he clasps them together, looking over your bedridden form. "I had dismissed this as some juvenile attempt to gain attention. The progression of this ailment is a direct result of my indolence, if I hadn't failed to act, perhaps we may have sooner-"

Bruce raises his hand to stop the butler, "What is done is done. We're all guilty in part for letting someone under our roof deteriorate to such a state without notice. How quickly can Leslie have the clinic ready for us?"

"She says in five minutes, she was already working late," Tim looks up from where he's in correspondence with the doctor, "I'll come with-"

"No." Bruce picks up your sleeping figure. He remembers holding you like this when you were so much smaller, when all of you could fit on his chest entirely, little feet cupped in his hand, precious head tucked under his chin- when had he stopped holding you? "I need you to find whatever you can- if this was an attack meant for us, we'll need to know the source to find an antidote or cure. Contact Oracle if you have to."

Tim nods in understanding, even if his tensed shoulders betray his hesitation. The other members of the Bat-family who have gathered in the other atrium of the Batcave are ready to volunteer to go in his stead. Damian is particularly impassioned, arguing something about 'blood siblings' and how you're 'the heir' (everything he's refused to acknowledge you as until this very moment- if anyone realises, they don't call him out), and that means he must obviously be the one who accompanies his father to the hospital. 

Dick is the one who ends up going as the oldest; he's driving as Bruce holds you in the back seat of the Batmobile, cleaning the dried blood from the corner of your mouth. You feel too thin, malnourished, the fat of your cheeks sunken in- the more he gazes at your face, the more he realises how obvious it was that something was wrong. Why hadn't he just looked at your face and seen this? How can he hold the title of the world's greatest detective if he can't even clock a life-threatening illness in his own child? 

"Bruce. We're here." Dick's voice is pulling from his thoughts, and it's a blur as they get you inside the clinic. Leslie's waiting, and her usually steely resolve falters when she sees you. She's never met you before, which is a good thing; she's never had to stitch you back together, pump poison from your system, snap bones back into place like your other family members- you were the one kid Bruce had told her was a civilian. So why were you here now?

She's filled in on the details as you're wheeled to the MRI machine, she almost curses them out right then and there- you'd been like this for weeks, and they hadn't brought you here sooner? She manages to maintain her professionalism by a hair's thread, instructing Dick and Bruce to wait in the adjacent room as she situates you inside the MRI machine. 

She enters the observation room to Dick pacing and Bruce muttering, "How long until we can know the results?" His dark eyes watch you through the glass as Leslie begins to activate the machine, the high-pitched whirring audible as the lights flash on. 

"Usually it'd-" Her words are cut off by the sound of your screams. Bruce's blood runs cold, and Dick freezes.

It's a sound of abject torture; it's a sound he never thought he'd hear from you, never wants to hear it again- your legs, the only thing visible of you to them right now, are seizing violently- "Turn it off!" Bruce shouts, already rushing from the room towards where you are, Dick close behind. Leslie quickly powers down the machine, and the bed extends out.

You're awake now, gasping desperately as you sit up quickly. Bruce is holding you by your arms, "Hey, hey- breathe, breathe, in and out, sweetheart." You clutch onto him as you take in shuddering gasps. Dick is rubbing your back, and Leslie is the last to come in, stethoscope on and flashlight prepared to take lucidity tests. 

You follow her directions, following the light and letting her hear your heart, "Are you doing okay? Any pain, on a scale of one to ten, one being not much and ten being excruciating, describe your pain levels, please."

"S-seven," You're slumped over in Bruce's arms, stomach still aching, the pervading hunger is all that's on your mind. 'No more machine.' Oh, and the voice is back.

'We hunger. We will eat or die.' Sure, disembodied freaky voice in your head, let's eat. You don't care anymore; you just want the hurt to go away. 

You're barely there as Doctor Thompkins explains that she wants to keep you for observation as they wait for the results of the MRI, the little they managed to get, that Bruce and Dick can come back in the morning and that you'd have the very best care as you stayed here. When had you been changed into a hospital gown? You're led to a bed that's not your own, and the door closes behind the nurse after she gets you ready for bed. It's silent for a beat.

'You wish for the pain to stop, little human?' Yes, creepy voice, just make it end.

'Permit me control of the vessel.' Fine.

It's been three days since you went missing.

Leslie had been the one to break the news, apparently, the day nurses went to check on patients during the shift changes and found you absent from your room. The nurse questioned Leslie whether you scheduled to be discharged during the night as soon as the senior entered the clinic for her shift. The answer was an immediate denial and panic. One phone call later, and the Bat-family were made aware. 

CCTV footage was provided to them and showed you slipping from your bed, clad only in a hospital gown, and through the window, an unlucky blind spot of the clinic security footage, as they were unsure which direction you headed after. It completely confused your family as to why the hell you'd run away. Were you delirious from your ailment- were you being threatened- feeling neglected, did you hate them?

The first night was spent in bat costumes, searching the streets, interrogating the usual suspects for any hint of involvement, asking for favours from contacts. It all led to nowhere; it's as if you vanished off the face of the earth. The second day and night were spent the same way. Bruce tried to distract himself from all the possibilities of what could have happened to you by focusing on the investigation- trying not to imagine finally finding you in some dingy warehouse, face beaten beyond recognition, cold and still, the Joker's laugh echoing-

Jason's warm hand brings him back from the present. Bruce has been staring at the hospital footage of you for three hours at this point. He wipes the sweat from his brow, the tension is shoulders hunching them painfully. "We'll find 'em, but we ain't gonna do shit if you're exhausted; we need you at full capacity." 

He knows Jason's right, the lack of sleep was going to do nobody any favours. Before he can argue, the rest of the family is also forcing him out of the batcave and to bed. Alfred's there to make sure he actually enters his bedroom and not his study to continue the investigation.

Bruce permits himself to rest a while, lying in bed. The silence settles with the silk sheets, and for the first time in years, Bruce cries. He just wants his kid back home; he'd never let you out of his sight again when he found you. He can't sleep, not like this. So he finds himself walking to your room.

It's a mess from your weeks of hell, in pain and being dismissed about it. The bed is unmade, the floor a mess, and the place smells of you and sweat and something that might be mango-scented oils. The room is undoubtedly a reflection of you. Unlike the rest of the house, which is decorated in sleek black-and-white gothic style, your room is bright. Your bed frame is yellow, and your sheets are burnt orange.

Your decor is a burst of sunset colours, and the walls are littered with pictures, drawings and posters. Your favourite TV shows and bands, there are pictures of you smiling beside people your own age that he doesn't recognise, your friends? You have a bookcase full of books- some he'd read, some he didn't recognise. There are awards on your shelves, a little Oscar statue for drama, a metal star award for reading, a medal for first place in long jump- he'd never seen any of them before.

There's a whole thick folder of atleast forty certificates, your very first from grade school about creative writing, progressing through to 'for asking good questions all week,' effort, learning, determination, 'football skills', working well, good behaviour, 'advanced reading', 'coming up with scientific theories and how to test them', 'ambition', scripts and picure pamphlets of the school plays and musicals (you'd been in eight- he'd never been to any of them), an acceptance letter for being student principal in middle school, choir letters- a concert tour to Italy that he'd signed off on and paid for but never fully read or realised.

There's a picture of you from kindergarten, and he stares at it. Your little cheeks, big round eyes, chubby hands holding up your mess of a painting proudly, your smile wide on your little face, and god damn it- he just wants his sweet baby back. He'll show up, he promises; it's not too late. You could still need him.

He falls asleep in your bed, your picture clutched to his chest.

It's on the fourth day that you show up.

You casually stroll downstairs to where the family is having a sullen breakfast. They pause at the sight of you- fresh, no longer gaunt, alive, sitting at the table like you haven't been gone for the better part of a whole week. Alfred freezes in the kitchen doorway.

You spread some jam on your toast. "Morning."

Dick drops his fork. Jason and Tim are looking at you, mouths agape; Damian's brows are furrowed in confusion, and Duke beside you is staring wide-eyed. Stephanie and Cass exchange worried glances. 

You're taking a bite of your toast when Bruce stands and rushes to you, enveloping you in a massive hug, "Oh- hey, wow- watch the toast-"

"Watch the toast?!" Dick sputters at your blase words. "Where the hell have you been?" Damian demands. "I thought- we thought-" Stephanie blinks.

"We've been looking everywhere for you. You- you're not ill anymore?" Bruce cups your face, analysing and evaluating; he finds a healthy flush, a lack of those bruise-like eyebags from before, no fever. You seem perfectly fine, better than ever even. 

"I've- uh. I've been around. Hah." Your voice sounds strained. "I'm fine, seriously." 

"Around? Where? Answer me, clearly-" Bruce's expression becomes more suspicious and concerned. 

"I said I'm fine. Would you lay off?" You extract yourself from his grip, getting up to return to your room.

Feeling you slip from his fingers again, a wave of panic washes over him, and Bruce moves to grab your arm. Your body suddenly moves by itself, turning your back to him to judo flip him over your shoulder. Your family gasps, jaws hanging open even further. It's a movement you have no control over, and you know who's responsible.

Venom! What the hell!? We're trying to be lowkey! 'He is what you would call an asshole who has neglected his spawn. I have no sympathy.' You're gonna get me caught!

Suffice it to say, being the teenage civilian you are, being able to judo flip your two-hundred-pound father is an impossible feat, which no doubt raises even more suspicion about where the hell you've been and what has happened to you. Bruce stares up at you from where he's on his back, winded, completely dumbfounded. 

Alfred startles forward, "Master Bruce!-" 

You run past your family, who are jumping to their feet and raising their voices in alarm, and out the closest window. What the hell else can you do when you're hiding a cannibalistic alien parasite in your head? 

'Parasite?!' Sorry, symbiote.

Said symbiote is also responsible for the string of decapitated bodies that your vigilante family would soon find all over Gotham. You won't force them to make the decision to send you to jail if you never get caught by them. It's not like they'd be missing much in your absence anyway. They never did before. 

'I'd miss you.' You're just saying that cuz you'd die without your 'perfect' host.

'Mmm, can both be true?' Idiot.

[thecorefrisk]

Neglected reader sitting at the dinner table even quieter than usual, barely giving one word responses to any questions, picking at their food with a slight edge—like they weren’t sure of its contents—and giving an awkward purse of their lips whenever anyone accidentally made eye contact with them.

Neglected reader cautiously excusing themselves to go to bed and who is let go with little fuss, though when their back turns some eyebrows furrow in either confusion, concern, or both.

Neglected amnesiac reader who shuts the door gently behind them, pumping their fist in victory after having made it through the entire dinner without knowing a single person’s name.

[aosawako]

Kusuo Saiki for the girls that stopped speaking because no one was listening.

Kusuo Saiki who avoided you due to fact that you made him feel vunerable.

Kusuo Saiki who quickly caught on to your new found quietness.

Kusuo Saiki that often lingered around you to see if you would attempt to speak about your interests to him.

Kusuo Saiki that would bring up a topic you were knowledgeable on awkwardly.

Kusuo Saiki speaks to you telepathically, “Did you end up finding the answer to your theory?”

Kusuo Saiki who tries to start up a conversation because even though he loved silences, he perferred for you to talk.

Kusuo Saiki can’t help the slightest upward tug on the corner of his lips when you give a hesitant smile before talking.

Kusuo Saiki who listens with small nods and hums while you talk, losing yourself in the possibilites.

Kusuo Saiki who sticks around so you always have someone to talk to, even if it’s really only you talking.

Kusuo Saiki that is only willing to hear you talk for hours on end, despite the sidestories and losing track of story.

Kusuo Saiki who reminds you where you left off in your orginal train of thought, “You were talking about how bittersweet it was that their first kiss was also their last.” (Aot reference)

Kusuo Saiki who denies his feelings for you up until the time you got him a coffee jelly after he briefly mentioned he liked it.

Kusuo Saiki casually confessing when the two of you are alone.

Kusuo Saiki who says, “I like you.”



[1nsignia]

requested 18+ mdni, bruce wayne

—————————————————————————

bruce wayne loved to fuck you senseless

don’t me wrong, he loves making love to you. how your bodies surrendered to each other with nothing but devotion and adoration for one another. how your lips would move in unison. how both of you knew where to touch and where not to touch

but something, something about watching you crumble from his touch… it made him breathless “fuck, fuuck, that’s it sweetheart” bruce groaned on the collar of your neck with another rough thrust in your warm pussy. both of you were propped up to your knees, though you were slightly leaning forward and bruce’s large arm wrapped around your stomach to hold you still, his chest pressing on your back

his thrusts were everything but gentle, your boobs bouncing from how rough his hips were snapping behind you as your warm cunt was taking every inch of

his eyes were fixed on your reflection in the body-length mirror facing both of you. and god, bruce would fucking kill for this view everyday

you, one hand on the back of his head while the other was gripping the sheets under you. his blue eyes were holding contact with your wide, blown ones, seeing how there was nothing but pure ecstasy in them as lewd yet addictive sounds kept leaving your lips from how he was fucking you senseless

bruce took his other hand and slid two digits in your fully parted lips, muffling your moans. “look at you” he whispered in your ear, darkening his gaze with each second he looked at you, grunting with his thrusts. “a fucking mess for me. gorgeous”

all you could was whine, swirling your tongue around his digits with saliva seeping out from your mouth, watching bruce’s cock disappear in you and hearing the filthy, wet noises it came out with

“look at her go” bruce continued cooing in your ear, tilting your head down with his fingers still in your mouth to get a good look of the reflection of your pussy. “takin’ me so well, thaaat’s my girl”

his hand slid out from your mouth to squeeze your boob firmly, feeling his fingers coated with your saliva and smearing it on your skin. “and how could i forget these?” you did nothing but moan and clench around his cock as a response, making a groan leave his lips

you arched your back for both more of his hands and more of his cock, the buzz in your body making you feel numb. bruce let go of your boob to tilt your head up and claim your lips hungrily, a type of kiss that was possessive and consuming— a mess of his own 

and there did you realize just how much of a mess you were. his mess

—————————————————————————

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[cannibalcow01]

Devil Woman. (Taiju Shiba)

Just how Taiju fell in love with his Alternative baddie of a wife. 🖤

The oldest Shiba never expected something like this..

An old church decorated with blood red roses. The dim light of black and white candles gave the place an unholy look. But he a devoted christian, didn't mind one bit. All that mattered were the e/c eyes he stared into as he recited his vows and slipped a ring on your much smaller finger.

If his younger self could see him now.. Holding the waist of a woman in a black wedding dress. His lips meeting hers in a slow sensual kiss making their marital bond official in front of all their friends and family.

Seeing their older brother so affectionate almost made Hakkai faint and Yuzuha puke.

Younger Taiju would have dropped on his knees and begged God for forgiveness. The way he looked at this woman as if she was the only one for him in this world.

Younger Taiju would have sworn you put some type of dark magic onto him. He swore he could feel the devils long nails tickle his ear as you leaned in close. Your pretty plump lips teasing his earlobe. A pretty voice that made his blood run down south.

"I am so wrecking your shit when we get home Taiju. God can't save you from me now."

You really were the devil in disguise.. And he couldn't be more in love.

That would explain why the second he got you home, your poor dress was ripped off your body. He felt a little bad ripping the gown but you assured him it wasn't anything Mitsuya couldn't fix.

Yes, only a demon from hell could make him submissive. Only you could make him throw his head back as his eyes rolled into his skull. Only your moans could make his body shiver. Only you could bounce on his cock and make him truly see what heaven was really like. It was all yours, he was yours.

Taiju had never in his life been literally manhandled by someone half his size before. But here he laid, eyes in deep admiration as he watched you sleep beside him.

His pretty little creature.. Hair a mess, makeup smeared, soft body stuck to his from the sweat of love making. How beautiful you looked..

Taiju shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle. He could see his younger self standing at the foot of your shared bed. Judging him for treating you so gently. For falling deep into your spell.

"She's a demon! Sent by the devil himself!"

Again he shook his head at the illusion of his former self that continued to haunt him. It followed his figure to the bathroom and back to the bed

"You just don't understand yet. We were young and didn't know this type of thing would happen to us."

He used one of your make up remover wipes to gently clean the ruined mascara off your sleeping face. He was proud of himself for giving you so many pleasurable rounds that eventually you passed out from exhaustion.

And yes, he was going to give you more later. This time he would be the one in control..

Younger Taiju sneered at him. "There is nothing to understand. This woman isn't a child of God. Dark and wicked!"

Yes, One thing his younger self said was true. You didn't believe in the church or his Christian ways.. You dressed in dark clothing and make up, You prayed to many gods but not his own. You claimed pretty colored rocks and plants kept evil away and answered prayers..

But Dark and wicked?

No, he'd never compare you to that. Or at least the wicked part..

But Dark? Yes, to Taiju Shiba, you did belong in the dark. But you weren't the scary shadows or the supposed wicked spirits that prayed on human souls. No, you were the moon and stars in his world..

A full moon if he needed to be specific. The light you gave off provided a cool blue glow to the darkness in his mind. The shadows of his anger scurried away from it like frightened dogs.

His younger self had long given up. Only muttering that he was a fool to fall for you when he did. That he should have just kept his feelings to himself. Locked them deep inside until they faded away.

Taiju sighed and brought your body closer to his. Your frame much smaller but he couldn't help but think back to the time he first met you.

Though he loves you dearly, it wasn't always like that..

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

A younger Taiju stared down at your smiling face. His brow raised at your appearance. Dark messy eye make up and bright colored hair. (Mitsuya had mentioned you dyed it a different color monthly)

He had been introduced to a few Toman members and you were apart of the last few. Taiju couldn't help but notice the small metal pendant that laid on your chest.

"Why do you wear the devil so proudly? Have you no shame?"

Your smile dropped and you looked down at your chest. How rude! He cut you off while you were trying to introduce yourself.

"Okay. First of all, Jesus freak much? And second, it's nothing evil, it protects me from the nasty-ness in this world, and its obviously doing it's job if it bothers you so much."

Mitsuya's eyes widened as he stood between the two of you. This is why he left you for last! He knew Taiju would say something about your appearance and you'd happily say something back once he brought his religion into it..

Taiju gritted his teeth as he watched you talk with Mikey.

You had a lot of nerve to talk to him like that. He was a lot bigger and older than you. He could tell right away you'd be testing his patience and faith. He told himself to stay clear of you when it came to attending meetings.

Oh how God must have a twisted sense of humor...

Not only was he under Mitsuya's division with Hakkai and Yuzuha but YOU were a part of it too.. He understands he wasn't a good brother for half their life but.. really? Why him?

You on the other hand were having the time of your life with this church boy. He constantly glared at you and mumbled under his breath.  You took that as a challenge to get under his skin.

' I could take him, big bitch or not.. '

You weren't shy when you caught him glaring. You stared right back at him and made devil horns with your fingers before placing them on top of your head. You stuck your pierced tongue out at him in provocative ways.. and sometimes, when you felt playful, you even growled at him.

When he said something a little too loud under his breath when you spoke about something blasphemous you happily fought back. Your mouth was sharp and your wit strong.

You weren't scared of him at all..

Then suddenly, he doesn't exactly know when it started, but sometimes he looked forward to it. Curious on what idiotic thing you'd shoit back at him.

A lot of members were still scared of him even if he denounced his violent ways. But you... Oh you tried to get him to slip up, all while wearing a teasing beautiful smile.

He's never wanted to wrap his hands around someone's neck so bad. His fingers twitched so much that he had to start shoving his hand into his pocket.

But that didn't stop his mind from wondering..

Would you be scared? Would you look up at him with your big e/c eyes and beg him to let you go. He bets your skin was soft.. He bets you sounded cute when a scared whine would pass your soft lips..

Wait?-- Where was his mind going with this?

He blames Mitsuya for always talking about you for that weird thought. That's why you were running freely in his mind. It was all Mitsuya's fault for making him be around you so much..

You see.

Your Captain cared about all of you. But there were times when yours and Taiju's bickering made him want to  tear his hair out.

"Either you two get along or I'm sewing two big shirts together and putting you both in it all damn day."

Mitsuya stared down at the two of you before he left you both sitting at a picnic table. He invited you on a play date with his sisters but in reality... It was a trap.

The sound of kids laughing and a few birds filled up the silence between you two.

Taiju could feel Mitsuya glare at him. Supposedly.. No matter how many times you two fought, it was always him who "started it".

Well in your words it was... Maybe Mitsuya just had a soft spot for you... Were you and him together in a way? Is that why Mitsuya was so hell bent on making you two get along?--

Nah, why would he care!

Taiju asked God for strength and looked at your figure. The urge to not judge your outfit weighs heavy on his soul.

"That's a nice shirt?"

You snorted and looked down. Completely forgetting what you had put on due to  your hurry to see Luna and Mana. A crossed out crucifix was printed on the front of your chest. Large letters in bold print read "Bad Religion."

"Uh. Thanks? I would ask if you listen to them too?-- But I'm guessing you're just being nice?"

Taiju nodded. "You're correct. I don't really care."

You didn't talk much with one another that day. Just a few things here and there.. But  hey! At least it didn't end up in a fight so your Captain counted that as a win!

The two of you would be the best of friends soon. Or Mitsuya would die trying! (Mainly because he had a bet going with Draken.)

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

"Come on Smiley! You call that a punch?! Weak ass!"

Your yell made Taiju's ears ring. A meeting had just ended and a few guys stayed back to hang out. He wanted to leave but Yuzuha had spotted Takemichi's girlfriend and started talking to her. He was his sister's ride home so he needed to wait.

But any longer he'd leave and let her ass walk home..

He wasn't sure how he ended up watching Smiley and Mucho play fight. Was this normal after meetings? He never stayed long after they were finished.

The crowd got bigger and Taiju had no idea you were eyeing him up at the moment.

All these men blocked your view. You needed to see who would win because you had bet Draken lunch that Smiley would take Mucho down. (You had too much trust in that boy) Draken was a big bitch and could eat yours  pockets empty.. You really couldn't afford to lose..

Taiju almost threw you over his shoulder and slammed your body into the ground when he felt someone's hands grab onto the back of his uniform.

If it wasn't for your little huff and whine he would have done it by now.

"Are you fucking climbing me? What in the world is wrong with you?"

You groaned when you reached your destination. Ignoring the fact that you were slightly choking him out while doing so.

"Fuck! you're like a mountain. Just be tall Shiba. I need to see this."

He didn't want your body against his... Or at least that's what he kept telling himself.

The devil was tempting him.

You were warm and your chest was pressed against the back of his head. A weird tingle went up his back when he felt your thighs shake while they squeezed him while struggling to keep yourself up..

"You're so weak. It's pathetic."

He rolled his eyes before he finally reached back and grabbed you by the back of your thighs. You let out a little breath of relief as you comfortably watched the fight in front of you.

He pretended that the small "Thank you" you whispered into his ear didn't make his stomach tickle.

He scoffed. "Don't get fucking used to it.. I still don't like you."

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

How the fuck did he end up in this position? When you were around him it seemed like your feet never touched the damn ground.

You constantly stuck to his back like a tick. Always talking his ear off and amazed by how the world looks so much more interesting from his height.

"Do you ever shut up?"

You laughed and held onto him tighter. Careful not to squeeze his Adams apple with your arms. (You've done it a few times.) "Don't act like you don't like my voice.."

Taiju scoffed as he walked with you to the convenience store. He wasn't sure why he was hanging out with you outside of a meeting. You both just ended up there after you said you were thirsty. "You sound like a dying Whale when you talk. I'd rather be deaf."

Your chuckle made his chest tight. "Aww, Taiju! God doesn't like liars sweetheart. You like me.. Just admit it."

Taiju clicked his tongue and said nothing.. You'd have to drag him to hell before he'd tell you that you were right.

For some reason he enjoyed your company a little more every time he saw you..

He wasn't going to tell you that he thought you fit perfectly on his back, like a little school bag. He wasn't going to tell you that he found himself looking for you when he arrived at a meeting. And he definitely wasn't going to tell you about the teasing Mitsuya was throwing at him when he subconsciously started talking about how pretty your hair looked when you  dyed it any shade of blue like his.

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

Mitsuya smirked when he saw Taiju glaring in your direction. Only this time it wasn't because of you..

"Who's the pompadour?"

The teasing chuckle Mitsuya let out when his eyes landed on you and one of Takemichi's best friends.

"Akkun? He's a chill guy. I introduced you but you haven't really talked to him yet. You're always too busy flirting with Y/n."

Taiju's eye twitched. "What did you say? Me and that creature? I'd rather burn."

Mitsuya rolled his eyes. " I heard he was going to ask her to go with him to the festival this weekend. Takemichi and the others gave him a pretty inspirational pep talk-- Hey! Where are you going?!"

Mitsuya mumbled under his breath watching Taiju walk up to you. "Fucking dumb ass. About time.."

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

Akkun was stumbling over his words. So far you only understood that he needed to talk to you.

He froze when you touched his forehead. "Are you sure you're alright? You're getting red, did you catch Yamagishi's fever?"

Before he could answer his body was yanked away from yours. Taiju held him like a stray cat who was caught making a mess in his garbage can.

"She doesn't want to go with you. Leave her alone."

You gasped when he dropped Akkun to the floor. He didn't even give you a chance to help him up. He just ran..

You turned to Taiju and punched his arm. And it fucking hurt.. Why were you so strong all of a sudden?

"What the hell Shiba?! He didn't even get to ask me what he wanted! What's your problem?"

Taiju rolled his eyes. "This weekend you're going with me on a date. I'll be the one taking you to the festival and I don't want to hear shit about it."

Truth be told, you and Taiju weren't too great at this ("Hey I like you". Type of thing.)

You let out a small "Ah." Before you nodded. "Alright. It's a date then.. "

You turned to apologize to Akkun, but stopped once it hit you.. Oh fuck! He's done it now..

That teasing smile... "Wait... Does this mean you like me Taiju? Jesus man like little ol evil me???"

Scoffing he turned to go find his siblings so they could leave. He could feel his face heating up.. "Shut up."

You skipped after him. "Nah, Nah! Get your flat ass back here Taiju and tell me you like me!"

He turned and whisper yelled. "SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT PEOPLE TO KNOW!"

You sucked in a breath. "EVERYONE! TAIJU SHIBA JUST ASKED ME OUT ON A DATE! HE LIKES ME!!"

"FUCK!" You both turned to see Draken digging into his pocket and pulling out some cash to hand over to Mitsuya.

Mitsuya happily counted his paper. "How much do you wanna bet they get married?"

Draken clicked his tongue as he watched you get on Taiju's back. "I'm not even going to fucking bother. You always win at this shit. I bet you have the fabric patterns for their wedding picked out already."

Mitsuya smiled and nodded. "I just started sketching her wedding dress last week.. It's going to be great!"

[manjirosdorayakii]

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

#3: 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫!!

he was completely caught off guard when you ran onto the road as soon as the traffic lights turned red, grabbed his face and pressed a firm kiss to his visor

he was then caught of guard again, a second time, by how pretty you were, pausing for a second just to stare through his tinted screen

once he finally regained his bearings he lifted it to ask your name but the lights had turned green

he didn't get your name this time? fine, he was definitely coming back till he did

𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙮𝙖, 𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙥𝙞, 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙮𝙪, 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣

ˋ°•*⁀➷ and your favs!

at first he was shocked, then stunned, then absolutely flustered

he stammered out a 'w-wait!' after you but you were already running back to the pavement in a fit of giggles

his face was now beet red and the suit and helmet which felt more comfortable to him than his own clothes suddenly felt like a sauna

'get back here, damnit!' he'll shout, but the lights are green and he's forced to go - that doesn't mean he'll leave you be though

𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙖, 𝙠𝙤𝙠𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙞, 𝙣𝙖𝙝𝙤𝙮𝙖, 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙪

ˋ°•*⁀➷ and your favs!

almost no reaction, on the outside at least - in reality his heart skipped a beat

'what the hell..' he'll mutter but grab your arm when you try to turn away, scoffing at your confused face, as if it wasn't obvious

'gimme your number at least.' and he will genuinely pull you closer to him not giving two shits about the green light or the fact that all the other cars were swerving around him and cursing him out

once he's done typing it in he'll turn away and drive off, leaving you all lost and confused but make no mistake, he'll definitely be calling you tonight

𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙧𝙤, 𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙪, 𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙣𝙖, 𝙠𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙤

ˋ°•*⁀➷ and your favs!

not an ounce of surprise, he was watching you with a smirk the whole time as you eyed him and scurried his way

he'll clearly display his amusement at your bold action, a hand instantly latching onto your waist when you tried to turn back, 'thought you could just run? that's cute, pretty'

the lights turn green? doesn't matter, not when you were now hauled onto the front of his bike, his chest pressing into your back as he drove

'hold on tight, babygirl, it's gonna be a long ride~'

𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙢𝙖, 𝙧𝙖𝙣, 𝙗𝙖𝙟𝙞, 𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙟𝙪

ˋ°•*⁀➷ and your favs!

will watch you with a dazed expression after you were done pecking his visor, a slight smirk on his lips

his arms will wrap around your waist when you tried to run away but when you push them off he would yield, not forcing you

but as soon as the light turns green he'll take a sharp turn earning him a few honks before pulling into the road you were on, stopping at a bus stop and flicking his visor up

'wanna do that again, pretty girl~?'

𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙨𝙖, 𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙪, 𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙤, 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙤𝙢𝙞

ˋ°•*⁀➷ and your favs!

he'll instantly turn the shade of a strawberry, stammering like an idiot something like 'w-who are you?!'

when you turn and run off laughing he'll attempt to run after you, get his leg caught his bike and almost fall before realising that he's on a traffic light and can't just abandon his bike

he'll quickly jump back on wincing at the honks from the overtaking cars and drive off after the cars

even as he drives off his gaze will be glued to you, looking back and almost hitting the vehicle in front of him, mumbling 'so pretty..'

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞, 𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙠𝙖𝙞, 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙮𝙖, 𝙠𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙤

ˋ°•*⁀➷ and your favs!

2025 @manjirosdorayakii

taglist: @lg0b5 | @koriiiiiiiiii | @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe | @mikeysgf1 | @tetsuyuuuuuuu | @thewifeofleviackerman | @kana1718 | @tenjikusstuff4| @napbatata

𐚁⋆.˚ click here to be added to the official taglist!

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[laylaroze]

Tokyo Revengers

Some little thoughts about relationships with them.

Part 2

Characters included: Haruchiyo Sanzu, South Terano, Ran Haitani, Taiju Shiba

Taiju Shiba

I think Taiju would be one of the hardest people to build a relationship with, but also one of the deepest once you get past his walls. At first, he wouldn’t even consider the possibility that you truly care about him, in his mind, love has always been tied to control, fear, or obligation.

Because of that, he might test you. Not in a cruel, calculated way, but unconsciously, pushing you away, raising his voice, trying to see if you’ll leave like everyone else eventually does.

Taiju is intense in everything he does, and that includes love. If he lets you in, you become something sacred to him, something he feels responsible for protecting, even if his methods aren’t always the healthiest.

Over time, being with you could slowly change his understanding of love. It wouldn’t be fast or easy, but he would try, in his own way.

+ mini-headcanon: the first time you gently take his hand instead of flinching, he goes completely still, like he doesn’t know how to react to something so soft.

South Terano

I think South would fall in love like a storm - sudden, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore. You wouldn’t even realize when exactly it happened, but one day he’s already looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

He’s loud, chaotic, and emotionally intense, but with you, there’s a strange contrast. Not calmer, exactly, but more focused. Like all that overwhelming energy finally has a direction.

South isn’t good at subtle affection. If he loves you, you know it, through the way he stays close, the way he watches people around you, the way his voice softens just a little when he talks to you.

However, his possessiveness could become an issue. Not necessarily in a controlling way, but in how strongly he reacts to the idea of losing you.

Still, despite everything, there’s sincerity in him. Raw and a little dangerous, but real.

+ mini-headcanon: he loves resting his head on your shoulder or lap after a fight, not saying anything, just breathing heavily, like you’re the only thing grounding him.

Haruchiyo Sanzu

I think being in a relationship with Sanzu would feel… unpredictable. Not necessarily unsafe, but like you’re always trying to read between the lines of his emotions.

At first, he wouldn’t take the relationship seriously at all. To him, attachment is messy, unnecessary, something that only complicates things. But the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes you’re not so easy to walk away from.

Sanzu’s love wouldn’t be soft in a traditional sense, but it would be obsessively attentive. He notices everything - your habits, your moods, the smallest changes in your tone.

Trust would be the biggest issue. Not because he expects you to betray him, but because he himself doesn’t really understand how to be vulnerable without losing control.

If he lets himself get attached, it would be deep. Maybe too deep.

+ mini-headcanon: sometimes he just stares at you in silence, long enough to make you ask what’s wrong and he just smiles and says, “Nothing. Just making sure you’re.... here... with me”

Ran Haitani

I think Ran would approach relationships with a kind of effortless charm, like everything is just a game he already knows how to play. Flirting comes naturally to him, and at first, it might be hard to tell how serious he actually is.

But the longer you’re together, the more you start noticing the small, genuine things beneath that playful exterior.

Ran isn’t the type to openly talk about his feelings. Instead, he shows them through actions: staying close, remembering little details about you, quietly stepping in when something bothers you.

He values comfort and ease in a relationship. No unnecessary drama, no constant tension, just being able to exist together without pressure.

That said, there’s a certain emotional distance he keeps, at least in the beginning. Not because he doesn’t care, but because letting someone see him fully isn’t something he does lightly.

+ mini-headcanon: he loves playing with your hair absentmindedly while talking about something completely unrelated, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.