HEY HEY HEY! HAIKYUU IMAGINES!

Joined on 25th June 2021 No explicit content. Only fluff, angst and crack.

[kaashikuroo]

Masterlist

Requests? Send ‘em here!

Headcanons:

Comforting them after a bad day:

Part 1: Kageyama and Kuroo

Part 2: Bokuto and Akaashi

Part 3: Suna

Pranks you pull on them:

Part 1: Kenma and Kuroo

Part 2: Atsumu and Tendō

Comforting you after a bad day

Part 1: Atsumu and Osamu

Scenarios:

When you meet your abusive ex:

Part 1: Kuroo and Akaashi

Part 2: Iwaizumi and Bokuto

Part 3: Ushijima

Part 4: Oikawa

Reactions:

When he overhears you simping for him infront of your bestfriend:

Part 1: Kuroo, Kenma, Atsumu and Osamu

When you kiss their forehead:

Part 1: Daichi, Kuroo and Suna

Part 2: Atsumu, Osamu and Oikawa

Part 3: Kenma, Yamaguch and Goshiki

When you pout at them:

Part 1: Osamu, Akaashi and Iwaizumi

When you have an eating disorder:

Part 1: Suna and Akaashi

What breaks him (makes him cry)

Part 1: Atsumu, Osamu, Kuroo, Kenma and Tendō

Part 2: Oikawa, Bokuto

Requests:

Little things he does for you - Miya Osamu

When you get an anxiety attack in the middle of an argument - Miya Atsumu

[tonycries]

Guys My Age

Synopsis. (!) Two assignments overdue: your law professor and your history professor. Objective: After teasing them all semester, Professor Higuruma Hiromi and Professor Nanami Kento…snap.  Time: At the same time.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader x Higuruma Hiromi

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, history professor!Nanami, law professor!Higuruma, college AU, you’re such a TEASE, driving them wiId, they’re overworked, they’re older, tutoring, STERN Nanami, fíngering, rings, p sIapping, p talking, chokíng, rídin’ Higuruma’s nose, oraI (m + ‌f), pússydrunk Higuruma, manhandIing, dragging, running from it, bíting, BOTH, fuII neIsons, bIindfolds, guessing, DP, SAME TIME, spítting, DÚMBlFICATlON, cervíx smoochin’, big stretches, they’re FÉRAL, creampíes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, surprise at the end, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 13.2k

A/N. You babygirls said you wanted more law professor!Higuruma so…I said why not have BOTH?!

He had you next hour.

Professor Nanami Kento - head of the History Department, PhD with Distinction - had you in his next class.

And he wasn’t even half as prepared as he should be: the coffee-maker in the staff room had broken down. 

Goodness knows how many times the blond-haired man has haunted that very station. Slouched over, sighing, sipping on his seventh coffee of the day. 

And although he could blame it all on the higher-ups and their stingy funding, or perhaps the frat boys of Delta Jujutsu Pi that’ve made it a challenge to sneak inside—he blames you. He wouldn’t even have latched onto such a respite had it not been for the way you made his blood pressure rise…in all sorts of ways.

Nanami’s eyes glaze over, and his hand absent-mindedly drifts between his legs. Perhaps if he got his pent-up energy out first…

“Kento.” A knock at his cubicle. And Nanami jolts his hand away as though it burned- 

It was Professor Higuruma Hiromi.

The head of the Law Department. Also PhD with Distinction. The man with dark circles and even darker suits, all prim and poised as he waded through the hallways with his stacks of documents—of course, Nanami was one for suits, as well. 

They really brought out his broad shoulders- at least, that’s what you told him.

Another reason why he needs the coffee.

Fuck. 

Nanami attempts to even out his breathing as he looks up. “Hiromi.”

If Higuruma thought anything of Nanami’s startled reaction, he makes no indication. Instead he holds up a slim file in his hand, “Are you free? Could you help me with looking over this essay?”

“Of course.” 

They were the only two in the staff room right now, besides- anything to take his mind off of you.

Nanami adjusts the gold-rimmed glasses on his face before he takes the file from him. Flipping it open to find a jumble of justice and law jargon that his history-inclined brain balks at—“I never thought you’d want a history professor’s opinion on an essay about…” He squints at the title, “-the scope of judicial power and judicial review. Does this have any names of 14th century shoguns that you need me to check?”

“No- no.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face, though Nanami gets the impression that it wasn’t for him. Rather it was for whatever ravaged at the man inside- making him look up at the ceiling with a hollow sigh—“Man, I need some coffee today.”

“Understandable.” Nanami pushes his glasses up.

“The machine’s broken, right?”

“Right.”

Higuruma only lets out another sigh that Nanami relates to well.

“If it helps, Dean Yaga said it’d be fixed by tomorrow.” Nanami attempts- he never was the type of sociable guy some of the other professors were. But he gets the feeling that Higuruma was the same.

He runs a hand down his face one last time- “That’s too late, I have tutoring this evening with…” And how Nanami Kento related to that, as well. Before he seems to shake himself out of it- somewhat. “It’s alright, could you just check the grammatical and citation stuff for me?”

“Of course.” As Higuruma leans against the partition and waits, the other professor skims through the writing. It wasn’t half bad, to be quite honest, and had it been for his own class then he would’ve given it an A—none too many mistakes except for the odd careless error. At least it was human-made. 

After a while of silence, Nanami’s partway through the conclusion when he asks. “Did you happen to get tired of looking through so many essays?”

“No, it’s just…” The dark-haired man sighs once more- for about the twelfth time since he came in. “-this student, you know?”

Nanami nods—he did know. “Trouble student?”

“Not quite.” He almost gulps.

Nanami narrows his eyes. “Doesn’t attend?”

“No, she attends every class.”

“Then what?” He leans back in his chair, essay forgotten now. “The legacy kid? The credit-chaser? The class clown that isn’t actually funny?”

Higuruma cuts through them all with a fierce shake of his head. “No, no, and no—” Almost gulping. “It’s just that this student is a little…distracting.”

The tips of his ears were red.

Instantly, Higuruma looks like he regrets it.

“F-forget I said anything-”

He does.

But Nanami looks squarely at the other man.

“I have a student like that, too.”

The law professor looks at him in wary interest. “Oh?”

“My star student, actually.” Pushing his glasses up, he opens up one of his cabinets and pulls out a thick, paper-stuffed file. And though Nanami Kento does collect his students’ work for the semester to review, he never does keep them quite so close - none other than yours.

Higuruma looks through them with slightly widened eyes. “All hers?”

Nanami nods, “So diligent that it’s almost distracting.”

Higuruma pulls out an empty chair beside Nanami and sits. Legs spread. Dark eyes thoughtful. “Mine, too.” He starts—“Never have I had a student ask for so many hours of extra tutoring.”

“Mine’s basically set up a tent in my office.” Nanami chuckles- though he can’t deny the slight pang it sends down to his cock. “Always taking on more assignments for extra credit, always answering questions first-”

“Always first in class and last to leave?”

“Exactly.” Nanami agrees. And he leans a hand on his desk as he watches the other man go through those papers - they were some of his most prized possessions, he feared to admit. Words from your heart. Swooping slashes of ink from your hands.

It was a part of you in those papers that Nanami Kento held dear to him- fuck, it was a part of you that sometimes he’d bring up to his greedy nose and sniff. Almost as if he could feel your skin through these very parchments.

It made him so fuckin’ hard.

But Higuruma didn’t need to know that.

Though the careful manner in which he handled those papers - how he leaned in just a little to drown in the ink - made him wonder…

“Always wearing the skimpiest skirt to class?”

And the other man looks up in shock- as though conveying something in his silence. Oh.

He flips the file over to look at the name typed-out on the cover, and it reads—yours. Ultimately, he continues—“A-always sittin’ in the front row with her legs spread just a bit?”

Nanami nods. “Always leaning over the desk when she has to speak in private.”

There’s a slight hardening within Higuruma’s eyes - though not of any unpleasant kind - it’s almost as if something deep and carnal was stirring awake right now. “Always wearing the prettiest black lace underneath?”

“She wears baby pink for me.” Nanami can’t help but smile.

“Fuck.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face again- and if Nanami didn’t know any better then he would’ve sworn that the other professor looked even more weary than when he first came in here. “And her panties-”

“Matching set.” Nanami responds without missing a beat - and he knows he’s some ol’ pervert for this. 

He knows he is. 

But he also knows about the smile that’d spread across your face the moment you’d realized he’d seen. “Bent over too low when picking her pen up one class.”

“Fucking—fuck.” Higuruma sounds agonized.

Nanami leans back in his chair, making it bounce a little bit. With a slightly breathless sigh leaving him, and his cock hardening even more in his pants–he’s forced to manspread under the table a little more. “She’s a needy lil’ thing, isn’t she?”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Higuruma’s lips quirk up into a sensual smile - as if he was reminiscing on the memories. “Wanting to fuck her professors? Seriously?”

“Believe she’s thought of both of us at the same time?”

“Don’t even say that-” The law professor looks around, even though there was no one else here. Looking back at the man with somewhat pleading eyes, “I have tutoring with her this evening. If I can’t even fucking grade her essay without getting a hard-on then what d’you think will happen if I’m thinking of that—?”

“Oh…” Nanami hums to himself, hands lacing in front of him. The coffee-machine really was broken. “-maybe that won’t be an issue.”

Higuruma glances at him with furrowed brows, “How so?”

“What time is your tutoring with her?”

“You mean…”

The blond man shrugs coyly- “I’m not implying anything…but which one of us two do you think is her favorite?”

“And people think you’re the gentleman of us two.” Higuruma grumbles but ultimately spits out the time. It seems you’d opted for tuition classes with your law professor in the after-hours—when the offices were snug, and the department was empty. And he feels his cock perk up at the fact- how many times has he raced back home to plunge into a cold bath after your tuition classes? How many times has his shower heard your name whispered? “I’m most definitely the favorite, by the way-”

So lost in his thought, Nanami nearly doesn’t catch the sentence. He looks over at Higuruma. “Does she call you ‘sir’, too?”

“She does.”

“Well, then we’ll find out, won’t we?”

.

.

.

The two hottest professors on campus.

Higuruma Hiromi (38) with his sleek-cut suits, his polished shoes, and those sleepy eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of your soul. The depths of your body - exposed underneath him. He was a stern teacher, not afraid to make you do an assignment over and over and over again…(and you gladly would). Higuruma’s justice classes made you…wet you had to admit, hearing him bark out simulations of court cases. Orders. Commands. 

You could practically hear a sigh echo out across the room every time he acted out his attorney days. 

Every time he banged his gavel down made your knees weak.

It was no wonder that students in the law department tittered n’ scattered any time the ruggedly handsome professor walked past. 

On the other hand was your history professor. 

Nanami Kento (31) with his beefier build, his strong arms, his gentle eyes—twinkling down kindly upon you every time he corrected a mistake. Which - you have to confess - you’ve made a few more times than you really had to, just to feel his molten gaze upon you again and again. He often caused your heart (and something else entirely) to flutter at the deep musicality of his voice, managing to make even the most boring of history passages something interesting. Something that swept the class up easily.

Nanami was reputed around campus for being a complete gentleman - never looking down upon someone, never letting them walk in after him, never letting them pay him a compliment without receiving a sweet one back. 

The dream husband.

The stern and the nice.

Both of them- frat guys hated them.

It hadn’t been intentional to join both their classes- honest! 

But after seeing them on your first day, how could you not commit to maintaining a spotless attendance? You had a sneaking suspicion that the rest of the class behaved in the same manner for much the same reason - though none took it quite as far as you.

The skirts. The extra credit. The bending.

Speaking honestly, you were a teacher’s pet. Through and through.

And the tightness in their pants whenever you left a class told you- they were the best professors. To you, that is.

Which is why you’d been a little less than happy when Professor Higuruma had told you that someone might be joining your weekly tutoring. 

Invigilated tutoring? 

What the hell was invigilated tutoring?!

You admit that you’d been forced to hold back a groan of disappointment. Picking such late hours had been a conscious decision—right up there with those tight pencil skirts that you knew your law professor loved but would never admit to.

Professor Nanami was more the type to like free, flirty pleats that barely reached your thigh - and you loved the way his eyes would follow them behind those glasses of his. Even though he pretended they didn’t.

And right now you were wearing a mix of both.

Tight on top, flared at the bottom

Seated opposite his desk - thighs shut, skirt pulled down as low as it would go - more concentrated than you’d ever been during one of these tutoring sessions. It’s been about half an hour since the start of today’s tuition. Higuruma’s office was a cosy space, decked out in the most expensive-looking mahogany banisters, and shelves, and a witness box in the far corner.

It gleamed at the light—down knowingly at you, almost as if waiting for you to make a move.

But how could you? If there was a potential visitor, then you didn’t want to risk Higuruma’s job- as much as you loved teasing your two hot professors, it wouldn’t do to get them fired!

So you kept your hands and your skirts to yourself.

And even Higuruma himself had his eyes raised, possibly wondering why you hadn’t leaned over his desk or lingered a touch at his shoulder for help.

But oh, how you wanted to…

The professor looks down at his watch, “He’s late.”

You’re glancing at the closed door, “Maybe the invigilator isn’t coming?”

“Oh, he will.” Higuruma crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Trust me, he won’t miss this.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

You wondered what made him so sure.

And yet, you edge closer over the desk to him anyways.

It’s about forty-five minutes into your tutoring session when the door you’ve been sneaking glimpses of this entire time- clicks! And a looming figure walks into the room, his figure nearly taking up the whole frame.

Your jaw drops as you realize—

It’s Professor Nanami.

“Ah- Kento.” Higuruma beckons him over warmly- and you’re nearly suffering from whiplash from watching the two interact. These two are close?! Professor Nanami had been completely normal during your last class, if just a little more distracted than usual - and what was this? “We’ve been waiting.”

He looks at you as he says this.

“I had to penalize a student for missing a few assignments.” Nanami says smoothly, before bringing up a chair beside you and taking his seat. His movements were fluid and precise - as if he wasn’t questioning for a single moment why you were here so late, why you were dressed like that for him, and why you were so damn close.

You’d been staring into his handsome face for so long that he clears his throat. “Continue.”

“S-sir?” You’re chirping- and in your peripheral vision, Higuruma shuffles in his chair.

“Continue.” Nanami repeats in a stern tone. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like that—“Just as you are. I would like to take notes for teaching my own classes.”

“You heard what he said.” Higuruma nods- and now you’re looking his way to see the most knowing smile on his face. “Continue, angel.”

Your thighs squeeze at the pet name.

Nanami quirks a blond brow and notes something down.

And so you’re ducking back into your work—

“Your blouse button is undone.” 

Slightly gasping, you’re reaching down to fix it-

“No, don’t button it.” He interrupts you with his low tone, gravelly with something you can’t pinpoint. You’re looking up at Nanami to find his gaze unwavering from you already- “I was merely noting it. Nothing to fix.”

“But-”

“You unbutton it for my class, too, don’t you?” He asks, and you’re unsure what to say-

“Answer when your teacher speaks to you.” Higuruma’s humming tone echoes—and from the sound of it, he was thoroughly enjoying this. He cocks his head down at you, “Or haven’t they taught you that yet?”

“Th-they have.” You’re squirming in your seat, a slight heat simmering in your stomach. You turn to Nanami, “And I do.”

“Hm.” With nothing more said- he writes something else down in his notes.

And you think you’re in the clear.

For now.

It’s barely a few sentences later on your work that Nanami speaks up again-

“Your feet are touching his.”

You pull away-

“You’ve been writing the same sentence over and over.”

Your hand pauses-

“Your thighs are parted more so than before.”

Immediately, you’re smacking them back shut again- you hadn’t even realized. And how the hell had Nanami even seen?

And you could practically hear the smug smile in his voice - so unlike everything you know of him - as he continues. “And your bra is peeking out.”

“Never seen one before?” You mutter underneath your breath, just about to fix your collar (that you’d very purposefully left open)—

Before Nanami’s voice cuts through again. “Never seen one of yours in black before, is what.” Even as you’re looking at him in slight sensual shock- he doesn’t look up from his papers. “What happened to the baby pink you show-off in my class?”

And Higuruma merely leans back and smiles. “Black is my favorite color, remember?”

“How could I forget?” The history professor answers.

“Though I myself am curious about this baby pink of yours…”

And you have nothing else to do but gape- they knew. 

Oh, how they both knew by now.

And by the looks in their eyes, they’d been dying for this very moment.

To confront how you’d been toying n’ teasing them all semester through now- enough so that they’ve apparently begun trading secrets about their unruly star student. You knew that Higuruma tended to have his ears grow hot and red any time he bumped into you in the hallway, and that Nanami would loosen his tie as if undressing whenever you wore a particularly scandalous thing to class - but you hadn’t known they’d been pushed…to this extent.

And you were glad for it.

So you sigh—slouching back in your chair. “So you both know. What now then? Do I get written up or something?”

But Nanami only looks at you through his glasses. “Sit up straight.”

He’s never uttered a command like that in his entire life during your usual lectures. And when you don’t move - merely looking at the blond man with raised brows - Higuruma pipes up. “You best listen to him now, angel.”

“Oh please.” Fluttering your lashes at them both. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Higuruma looks at Nanami.

Nanami calmly puts his notes down on the other’s table, and looks at you.

“Why-” He pushes his glasses up his handsome nosebridge. “-teach you a lesson, of course.”

“Both of you?” You could feel the elated giggles bubbling up in your throat- and you could feel the space between your legs start to grow wetter already. Looking between both of them—“Do it then.”

And then it’s a blur - you don’t know where Higuruma’s lips end and yours begin. He’s reached over the surface of his desk to kiss you like a starved man- and he groooans into that very kiss like you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hand on your cheek. 

The tips of his canines start nibblin’ on your lower lip- and you’re kissing him back even deeper. “Shit-” Higuruma’s husky tone scorches across your face, “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do this for so fucking long.”

“Mmm, you kiss like husband material.” You’re giggling into the kiss. Both of your hands end up on his shoulders, and you could feel the shifting of his muscles through his slim suit. 

“Shit- and you talk like trouble.” He echoes out in an almost pained tone- like every second that his lips were away from yours ached. 

And those plump, pursed lips press against yours once more—so much sweeter than you would have expected this booming lawyer to kiss. He’s using the hand on your cheek to tilt down your chin- “May I?” Before the short nod you give lets him slither his tongue in wetly, lappin’ at your sweetest taste. “Shit, you’re really like sugar on my tongue.”

And you’re whining into the fervent kiss, letting it go on for a few more minutes before you’re breaking away with the most lecherous plop! And a thoroughly flushed professor chasing after your lips drunkenly-

“And what about you…” You’re kissing down Higuruma’s sharp jawline, looking at the other man who’d been sitting quietly this entire time. “-sir? Haven’t you wanted to kiss me even once this semester?”

Nanami shivers but he hides it well. Uncrossing his legs and revealing the most rock-hard, aching bulge between his legs—“Kiss? Perhaps.”

And you’re gulping at the sight.

Higuruma scoffs out a slight burst of laughter. “Perhaps.”

“But I’m a gentleman, my love.” Nanami continues, leaning back in that luxurious armchair. He takes off his coat to reveal a pale blue button-up, and beneath that was revealed the most chiselled body you’ve ever seen. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and beckons towards you. Manspread. Lap so welcoming. “Which means I’ve thought of far, far worse.”

Higuruma - with a final sloppy kiss plastered across your mouth - lets you walk over to Nanami.

Which you do on wobbly legs- plopping down unceremoniously on his lap. More than enough space there for you. He wastes no time bending you into shape in his strong arms, flipping you around to face the other man, and spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open-

Riiiiiip—!

“Whoops.” Nanami’s thoroughly unapologetic tone gruffs against the shell of your ear. Two of his vein-covered forearms were hooked underneath your elbows, and Nanami looks on boredly at the clean split down your skirt—“I always thought you’d look better without these anyway.”

Before he’s spreading your legs even further across his lap. Tearing it even more.

Exposing you for nothing but your tremblin’ legs and those drenched panties. Pretty black in color. 

So lacy that it was practically nothing.

Higuruma’s eyes widen, “Dirty girl.”

Nanami breathes, “No, that’s called being a slut.” And shock runs through your body at his words- at Nanami ‘Gentleman’ Kento’s words. Before it’s suddenly overtaken by the sudden feeling of him smearin’ aside your panties and stuffin’ his fingers inside.

Those thick crowns dooooown to the golden ring on his middle finger.

They were long and thick. Swirling and swirling the tip of his digit right ‘round your clit- and when you’re shuddering and unable to take it any longer—he pulls away and licks off that excess slick with a slurp!

Humming to himself as though it was the greatest delicacy in the world. “One thing you should know about me, darling, is that just because I’m gentleman-” And you’d been so caught up in his ragged tone, you didn’t even realize that he’d snaked his hand back down between your legs. “-doesn’t mean that I’m not depraved.”

And he’s ending off the sentence not with a full stop- no, but with a sudden shove of his fingertips between your folds. So swollen n’ sweet with slick.

You buck and he lurches his hand out to slap you on top of your pussylips.

“Down, darling.”

“Please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for.

But Nanami’s mouth waters already at the sound of it, and he’s keeping it at bay by pushing n’ pulling on the first ring of muscle at your cunt. “I said down.”

Head throwing back against his collarbone. “Oh.”

Fucking you with just the first inches of his fingers- “It doesn’t mean that m’not desperate.” Continuing as though your eyes weren’t bulging, as though your legs weren’t shaking, as though you weren’t arching off of his muscular chest. “It doesn’t mean that m’not ready to debase this pussy like she deserves.”

“Y-you mean—” You’re hiccuping, eyes starting to water at the sheer raw stretch. It was the type that left your pussy burning in the most delicious way - the feeling of having Nanami Kento’s scourin’ fingertips eager to enter your cunt. “-that whole gentleman thing was just a lie?”

“It’s not.” He responds. Final. His blond strands fall over his forehead as he keeps his eyes locked on your glistening hole, scissoring his fingers at that entrance n’ spreading you even wider. “I’m nice…”

Adding in a third finger before you’re even registering his second.

“-to everyone but this slutty pussy, that is.”

“Sh-shit—” Mewling at the top of your lungs, you’re clawing down Nanami’s strong forearms. They were the perfect thing to hold onto- just about the only thing you could hold onto as he utterly ruined your pussy with short, jerking thrusts.

Bulging the sides of your velvety walls open with his globular tips.

Cold metal ring shocking you.

So thick that he manages to probe into a few of your sensitive spots without even trying. Dragging his flexible fingers across every inch of you.

Scissoring and opening up and scissoring—deep.

Tears track down your cheeks at the sheer stimulation.

“Go easy on her, Kento.” Higuruma can’t help but groan at the sight of your pretty crying face. And soon enough, you’re hearing the metallic clinking of a belt buckle- “Don’t want to break our star student, now, do we?”

Nanami purrs against your temple. “Mmm, I don’t mind.”

“Just remember that she’s tutoring with me.”

The sound of Higuruma’s belt hitting the polished wooden floorboards is enough to make your eyes startle open- and oh, how you’re so glad it did.

Because then you’re greeted with the sight before you: of Higuruma Hiromi in utter ecstasy. All because of you.

He’d taken your seat from prior, chair angled perfectly to face the show taking place in front of him. 

Where Nanami had your legs spread aaaaaall the way as far as they would go - until Nanami could hear your joints threatening to pop - and facing the dark-haired man. His dark eyes glinted as they stared down at your glistening hole, swallowing Nanami’s rams easily.

Slurps n’ squelches emanating like music. 

Cunt dripping everywhere over the history teacher’s tight trousers. And the larger that puddle you were forming seemed to grow, the harder Nanami’s hammerin’ pace seemed to become. 

You could barely keep your eyes open long enough to see Higuruma tug down his black pants- that throbbing erection of his making an appearance. He wraps his hands around his thickened base and starts tugging, soft grunts leaving his mouth at the rapid pull-pull-pull of his cock. “Shit, she’s so fucking wet- be a little nicer with that pussy o’ hers, would you?”

“Hmmm…I don’t think she deserves it.” And with that said, Nanami plants yet another sodden spank on top of your cunt. Ring grazing your front- “She hasn’t learned her lesson yet, has she?”

That stinging sensation zaps throughout your entire body and makes you buck. “I-I have—”

Before yet another thwack! of Nanami’s calloused fingertips follow.

Harder, this time.

“I was talking to this pussy, actually.” 

And he doesn’t even wait for the primal sting to pass by before openin’ your cunt up and thrusting his fingers inside again. In and out.

Push after push into your gooey depths.

You’re so sensitive n’ wet by this point that even the slightest movements have you emanating out the loudest sounds. Squelches upon squelches—every time he’s hitting a spot deep inside your hole. “Mhmm…mmmhm.” You could feel Nanami’s head slightly nodding above your own, as if locked deeply in a conversation with your pussy’s sounds. Just one whine of yours and he’s spankin’ on you once more- “Wait your turn, my love. She’s talking t’me.”

And Higuruma- ah, Higuruma has the audacity to snicker at the action. “Now that’s just bullying, Kento.”

“Is it?” He’s slappin’ down on your pussylips once more. Listening for the sound, “She says it isn’t so.”

You’re sending a narrowed glare his way that makes the law professor roll his eyes fondly.

“Oh, alright alright-” And he half-heartedly waves off at his colleague. “Be a little nicer to my dear student, won’t you?”

“Spoiled brat.” Yet another spank. Nanami sinks his canines into the shell of your ear, and he’s tuggin’ and teasing—he’s spreading his legs even further and settling you down. With your back against his rippling chest, he pushes and pushes his greedy fingers inside your pussy. “And why do you think you- hah, deserve that, huh? Haven’t you been fucking torturing us all semester long now?”

Higuruma groans. “Can’t deny that, angel.” His hands fly even faster up and down his cock- ravaged and reddened with need. 

“Mhmmmm.” The blond-haired man agrees, “Haven’t you been wearing those slutty skirts expecting to get fucked in them? Haven’t you- fuck, haven’t you been wearing that damn lingerie hoping we’d take a peak? Aren’t I right?”

He waits for your pussy to answer first- and then you’re answering. “I-I mean-” Attempting to.

“Haven’t you been bendin’ over and shit just because you wanted to show up in our wildest dreams? To consume our thoughts and make our cocks twitch?”

“Well-”

“And we did.” Higuruma pipes up next. He was so needy that he was practically bucking off of his chair, making it creak with movement. Short, jerky thrusts.

“Oh, yes we did.” Nanami continues. He leans down to your ear, as if exposing a secret- “I’d look forward to our classes everyday, my love. I’d have to fuck my fist raw before class- just so I wouldn’t fuck you senseless in front of everyone like how you were begging me to.”

Higuruma moans as he thumbs down the line of his flared tip - that pinkish, slippery line. He twitches as though he’s near to cumming already. “Me- me, too…”

“And you still expect me to be a gentleman?”

You’re restless, opening your mouth to defend yourself and—

Nanami only leans down and spits a glittery wad of spit between your pursed lips. “Don’t talk when the teacher’s talking, darling.” 

And your ears pop with pressure-

He’s hittin’ the plushness of his palm against your pussy with a loud smack! Smearing the curves n’ divots of his fingers dooooooown and up your walls, down and up.

His crown fingertips reach for your deepest innards- and you swear you can feel him stroking your very cervix. Runnin’ his frigid ring across your walls.

Drawing a few lines and marking his placement right back there, before he tunnels his digits at a frenzied pace - fingers almost nothing but a pale blur between your legs. His speed is so feverish that it leaves your sheen tricklin’ all down your thighs.

Trickling and trickling and—

And then you feel Nanami hook his fingers against your g-spot.

The pleasure shoots up your body like a lightning strike, “O-oh my god—right there, Kento.”

“Kento? Who’s Kento?” Nanami doesn’t even falter his fingering to answer, cooing in that tone that you’d almost mistake for something sweet. “I think you meant sir-”

“S—fuck.”

“Say it.” He huffs against the side of your face. Teeth almost out for blood- “Say it. Call me ‘sir’ or you don’t get to cum.”

“I—”

“Say it.” Higuruma, to your surprise, echoes from his seat. Where he had his gaze burning into your spread-open pussy n’ his mouth drooling at the vision of you—“Say it, angel. I need to see that pretty pussy cum.” Hands rubbing faster and faster- 

“She deserves to cum, mhm.” Nanami nods. “But do you, huh?”

“I-I do.” You’re nodding up at your desperate professors. One just barely in your line of vision- but his fingers were working up such a storm. His slightly-tanned arms pinning you down, working your pussy open, hitting that target of your g-spot like a cute button. Again and again—

Blond hair ruffled. Glasses slipping down his sweaty nosebridge.

And then the other one that was just creamin’ his precum down his hands. With his hands on his swollen erection - one of them creating a tunnel for him to fuck his fist, the other flattening over his dribblin’ divot to stop from cumming already. 

Sleepy eyes half-lidded. His pale thighs shivering as they bucked n’ rutted.

And the vision itself is enough to make you cum- but then again it just felt so good on Nanami’s hands, and underneath Higuruma’s gaze. So you can’t help but let your lips wobble open—“P-please let me cum-” Stars bursting behind your vision once Nanami presses down on your clit as well. “-sirs.”

The two older men look at each other.

“Sirs?” Higuruma asks, voice breathless with ecstasy.

“She just begged for both of us.” Nanami grumbles out - though not quite unhappily. It made his cock twitch deep in his pants to have you whimperin’ like this, and he continues. “Alright then, you slutty pussy.”

And it takes only a few more strokes - a few more direct thrashes along your g-spot - for you to hurtle straight into your high.

It’s so strong that you’re seeing white behind your eyelids—and your mouth blabbers out an unintelligible combination of both professors’ names. Toes curling. Sweat beading down your temple.

Nanami holds you down as you’re thrown through wave upon wave of your orgasm, your hips bucking up and down desperately. Riding throughout your bliss- and if that wasn’t already enough, he counts underneath his breath to measure how long it takes between your peaks of euphoria. Before hittin’ away at your g-spot just in time with each one.

The sensations that take you over are just incredible.

And your head falls back limply against Nanami’s shoulder.

Shivering. Almost as if you were in heat- and your pretty pussy gushes out honeyed slick as though to give credit to that statement.

Lavishing Nanami’s open thighs with all your sap—Higuruma eyes the mess and gulps. “Kento, give me a taste of that.”

Nanami scoffs. “In due time.”

“Kento, I need her pussy on my face now.”

Slowly but surely, you’re fluttering your eyes open at the feeling of being shuffled around - only seeing the beautiful, brown eyes of Higuruma Hiromi staring down at you. When did he get so close?

“Hiromi?” You’re blubbering out stupidly, still suffering from the aftershocks of your previous high. Those zapping bursts of electricity made your thighs twitch sensitively- “I mean- sir?”

Higuruma shivers, “You trained her well, Kento.”

“Mhmmm—” Nanami noses down the column of your throat proudly.

“Maybe now it’s time for a reward then, huh?”

You’re perking up. “Yes, please.”

Nanami snickers. “You spoil her.”

And in almost no time, you’re finding yourself handed off to the law professor - Nanami stands up and gets off of the armchair. While Higuruma takes his place- 

At least, that’s what you think is going to happen.

But what ends up happening instead is that Higuruma seats you down on the chair, letting your barely-clothed pussy rub up against the cushion. Something in his eyes gleams at the way you’re squirming, and he speaks to you in a gentle tone. “Can you turn around and hold the headrest f’me, angel? Be a good girl f’me?”

“A-alright?” Confused, you’re just doing what he says. He meant that you had to turn and climb your knees onto the seat, ass turned towards the professors, back slightly arched.

“Mmm, good.” Higuruma admires the view. “Arch that back just a little more f’me now, alright?”

“Like this?” 

And still not sure what he was about to do, you can only follow his commands. It almost feels like a doggy position- and you hold onto the wooden headrest for dear life.

“Mhmmm.”

And Nanami’s the first to mutter to himself, “Don’t tell me you’re…” He takes in the sight of you - with your front resting against the backrest of the chair. You have your spine bent, your ass cheeks displayed for them, your cunt not quite on the seat—“Hiromi, you dirty dog.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Steadily, Higuruma’s kneeling on the floor. 

There’s no warning before he then shoves his face nose-deep into your cunt- straight from behind. 

Higuruma grabs onto either side of your ass cheeks, his prominent nose curvin’ up the slit of your pussy. He’s using his grip on you to draaaag you further down onto his face—“Mhmmm—spread those legs.”

He’s muttering.

He’s spitting- stern lips pursing and letting out a rivulet of saliva.

It strikes vertically down your cunt before Higuruma’s running his fat tongue over it. Smearing around the mess he’s made- but most importantly, smearing around the mess that you’ve made.

You’re whining as Higuruma’s textured tastebuds seem to take over your pussy. All the way from the plumpness of your folds, and then dipping between them to tease your hole- you’re still so sensitive from the massage that Nanami’s fingers had simmered into you. And you’re trembling your thighs further open, “P-please- fuck-”

“I’m a lawyer so I’m really good with my tongue, y’know?” Higuruma pants out, scorching hot against your needy pussy. “But that means my fees are high, too-”

“A-and what are your fees?” You’re sobbing out.

“Mmmm…” He takes the time to think—and by that, you mean that he rovers his mouth over where your clit was throb-throb-throbbing. The law professor takes his sweet time spreadin’ open your pussylips with his tongue, before letting his tongue flop out n’ draaaaaag down your clit-

And his next words are so lecherously muffled. “Ride my nose raw, sugar.”

You gasp.

In the background, you can hear a gruff bout of laughter that notably doesn’t belong to Higuruma.

You grip onto the headrest of the chair harder than ever- because in a split-second, Higuruma’s thumbin’ your folds open and stuffing your hole all full of his tongue. 

So loooong and slick- curving right against the roof of your pussy. It makes you jolt to feel his honed, flexible tip zig-zagging its way down your channel—mazing and mazing inside that it’s as though his wet muscle was never-ending.

Higuruma Hiromi was damn ravenous.

He feels your knees start to slip away from him- and he claws his fingers deep into the globes of your ass cheeks to pull you back. Uncaring if you’re whining for mercy- “A-aren’t you supposed to be the nice one, sir?”

“Spoiled.” Nanami’s voice echoes from the distance.

“Mmm- keep calling me that, yeah?” Groans wrenching from the back of his throat at the mere sound of that title being said in your pretty voice. How nice it was to make you beg. “And no—”

“No?”

“I am being nice by letting you ride my nose, aren’t I?” His head jerks just a little upwards to look at you- and Higuruma can just barely make out the shock on your face. “I know how much you’ve wanted to ride it-”

“Hiromi-”

“Ever since ya fuckin’ met me, huh?” His rough tone vibrates through every vessel of your body- pushed even further by the constant swabbin’ he was doing inside. Swab after swab. “Ever since ya first saw me- don’t think I didn’t see how you stared at me.”

You’re clawing further up the headrest. “B-but how did you know-”

“Oh, angel…” Higuruma almost chuckles. Something dark and depraved- “If I was wrong then you wouldn’t be so fucking wet- I can barely breathe.”

Both of his roughened palms plaster around your thighs. Draaaagging you bodily - as though you were nothing against him - to glue your pussylips to his own lips.

He makes out with your pussy like a man parched.

“And I don’t need to.”

Your vision blurs with pleasure as Higuruma spreads your folds perfectly apart- and starts rammin’ his tongue into you wildly. Thick and thirsty for the taste of your sweet, sweet juices—any time that even a mere droplet of your sap starts to drip down your thighs- you can best believe that Higuruma was whipping his head down to slurp it up. “Harder.”

“I-I am-”

“Faster.”

“Fuck-”

“Raw, I said raw.”

Practically addicted to it. 

He’s pussydrunk in with just a few sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. And you yourself can feel your pupils start to circle inside the whites of your eyes.

Spreading yourself even further on the chair to meet his utterly ravenous mouth-

“Didn’t forget about me now, did you?”

Nanami Kento sounds the closest he’s been since he had you on his fingers- which could feel like minutes, hours, days ago by now. It takes you significant effort to blink away the clingy film of tears on your eyes, and you’re opening them to find that he was actually…standing right in front of you.

Nanami had rounded the side of the armchair - and if you looked up, there his handsome face was. So now you have your law professor at your behind, and your history professor’s crotch in front of your face. His pants much too tight. 

His cock thick and throbbing underneath there.

Clasping onto the headrest of the chair, if you raised your head juuuuust a little then you’d be able to mouth over the twitching erection he hid underneath there. “K-Kento?”

Nanami looks down at you through his gold-rimmed glasses. Grinning at your teary expression, “Only a few minutes with your nice teacher n’ you’ve already forgotten your manners, my love?” His hand falls to his formal pants, “Guess we have to go back to lesson one.”

“O-oh…”

Nanami had already unbuckled his belt and lets it drop to the floor—clink! Followed right along with the popping of his buttons, it doesn’t take too long before you’re face-to-face with his rock-hard bulge. Achingly hard. Almost painfully hard.

Barely held together by his boxers, he seeps out such volumes of precum that it creates a dark patch on the silken fabric. It glistens just a bit under the dim lighting of the office- something that makes you gulp.

And something that makes Higuruma nudge his tongue even deeper inside of you- shit, you could feel yourself growing more aroused. And he could taste it.

“Did you know she gets sweeter n’ sweeter the wetter she gets?” Higuruma slurs from in-between your legs, latching onto your clit with a loud squelch! “And you won’t believe it…but right now she tastes like the tastiest strawberry candy- heh.”

“Is that so?” Nanami’s nose crinkles as he looks down at you. He’s admiring that drunken expression on your face for a little bit, before reaching his right hand down and clasping at the back of your head. “Filthy girl.” 

You shiver. “C-can’t help it-”

“Ah ah—not another word out of you.” The blond-haired man continues. His grip tightens- “I expect you not to speak when your professor is speaking-”

Cocking his head just a little, Nanami takes a glance at the famished way that Higuruma was kissin’ between your legs. Gasping. Gulping.

He had his mouth gaped wide open and was dragging it across every inch of your pussy that he could reach- sticking that long tongue of his between your pussylips. You’re almost sandwiching his tastebuds for a bit before he manages to flicker his tastebuds inside again—then in and out, in and out, in and out.

Faster than before.

Reeling back out to slap! your pussy with the flat surface of his tongue.

Then probin’ back in again.

Higuruma’s just being so loud-

“-and when this pussy is speaking.” The rest of the history professor’s sentence makes you gasp - brain so muddled that you’d almost forgotten what he was saying. Almost forgotten that he has a firm grip on your sweaty scalp—one that he’d now turned into two hands upon your sweaty scalp.

Tugging your head forwards as if you were nothing but a ragdoll to smush your face against his boiling hot erection. 

Your jaw falls open and soon enough, you’re salivating all over his clothed cock. 

Tongue lavishing across the cotton of his boxers- feeling every ridge n’ vein along his shaft. 

He groans at the feeling of your heated mouth, and his fingers dig into your scalp even deeper. Tugging. Needing. One set of your fingers reach upwards to fumble its hem, and you take Nanami’s round, reddened tip into his mouth.

Moaning at the large size of him.

Moaning at the salty taste that floods your mouth-

“Hey now…” Higuruma’s choked-up tone echoes from behind. You’re feeling his tender fingers start to pull your hips back onto his face, “-don’t steal my star student away.”

“Have you forgotten that she’s my star student, too?”

“Her pussy’s on my mouth right now- so who’s in charge?”

“Well, let’s ask how she feels about it…” Nanami’s voice trails off—and only too late are you realizing that he isn’t talking about your pussy this time. He’s talking about you- waiting for your answer.

And you’re attempting to muffle out something, letting the globular edge of his cock swirl around your mouth a few times. Around and around. Just the crown of his mushroom tip prods into your every orifice inside- you’re opening your mouth to answer when Nanami jerks his hips forwards.

Fucking his cock deeeeep into your maw.

And with it, whatever words were in your throat, too. 

“I dunno about that-” Nanami hums down at the chokes n’ strangled gasps you’re letting out, just the barest noises of whatever was able to filter past his swollen shaft. “-but it sounded like a ‘you, sir’ to me.”

“Didn’t know you were that depraved.” Higuruma spits out. Dark eyes narrowed as he’s grinding you back to him n’ lapping away at your oversensitive pussylips.

“I’m a gentleman, what can I say?” The other professor responds.

As the slurps n’ sucking continues, Nanami looks at you through half-lidded eyes. He admires the way your mouth leaves a glittering glaze of spit from the tip of his cock and doooown to about halfway down his shaft—so cute how you couldn’t fit it all. “And as Head of your pussy-” Fuck, when did he even assign himself that? Is he pussydrunk already? “-I say you can’t cum until you’re fitting my cock aaaaaall the way…”

The history professor’s left hand lifts off of your scalp. Then dragging down the front of your throat - down, down, down. 

“-here.”

He points to a spot way past the back of your throat.

He fucks your mouth like he’s agonized every second he isn’t reaching for it.

Higuruma growls.

And thereafter it’s almost like a tug-of-war - on one end you’re being hauled forwards by Nanami’s grip on the back of your head. His hands strong and unwavering, no matter much you’re gasping for air- fuck, the ever-gentlemanly Nanami Kento was gone for the feeling of your mouth tightening around his hot cock.

Rutting those toned hips up into your velvety cavern like an animal-

“Just a little more.” That left hand of his wraps around your throat now, his thumb markin’ at the spots where he can feel his rounded tip probing inside. “Just a liiiiittle more now- about four inches? Heh.”

“Mmm—” Your eyes go wide in surprise.

And Nanami responds by pushing his hips even further, nearing the tip of your nose to those curls of blond at his base. “C’mon, c’mon.”

And on the other end, Higuruma had his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs. Into the flesh of your ass. His tongue fishing around your insides before he pulls out and starts nibblin’ on your damn clit—

He’s thirsty. Depraved.

“Noooo, angel.” He’s gluing his chin to the front of your pussylips. Head moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as the law professor lashes his tongue across. “Come back to me-”

“Mmm—” You’re being pulled off of Nanami Kento’s reddened, dribblin’ cock with a plop! Just from the sheer pressure of Higuruma manhandling your body from the other side - dragging you all down his handsome face. “Fuh-fuck-!”

“Where’d you think you’re going?” Only for Nanami to barely let you breathe for a split-second before he’s pulling your mouth down his shaft again.

Shovelling a gooooood few inches of his vein-covered cock inside- he marks that spot out on your throat. Even deeper than the last time you had him- “Mmm, not bad. Just a few inches- mmm, more.”

“Ride my nose.” Higuruma begs from the other end. Breath breezing down your gooey core, it makes your thighs shiver- “Ride my nose, I don’t care. Ride my nose, ride my nose—” 

And you’re just so overstimulated from all ends.

From the draaagging of Nanami’s thumb down the front of your neck, from the sensual touch of Higuruma’s nose being sandwiched between your pussylips, from the pleasure of them both playing with your body. It’s as if you’re their favorite toy to taste, to fuck - to worship because of the way they were being driven to absolute madness by those carnal sensations. 

You can only jolt your body back and forth.

Down Nanami’s cock. Up Higuruma’s ready face.

Riding his nose just like you wanted- “S-so—” Somehow barely managing to gurgle out past the pulsating tip of his cock, “So close-”

“Close?” Higuruma perks up. “Fuh-fuck- I have you, angel.”

“Remember- no cumming until you take it here.” Nanami presses his thumb somewhere near where your voicebox was bulging with the intrusion of his inches. “You’re not there yet, darling…”

“But-”

“Please let her cum.” But to your surprise, it’s your law professor who is pleading your face. 

Nanami raises a blond brow, “Oh?”

“Let her-” He slurps away on your swollen nub- sensitive and throbbing. He’s hollowing his cheeks out to get that suctioning sensation, already making your knees feel weak with pleasure. “Need her to- fuck, want her to cum on my tongue. Let her cum already.”

Nanami thrusts even deeper, “Hmm…I dunno.”

“I’m the one asking you.” Higuruma grumbles. “Let her cum-”

“Mmmpf- please.” And your brows furrow as the pit of bliss in your stomach grows stronger.

“Let her-” The law professor continues, “I’m begging you- fuck, she’s becoming so sweet. Let her cum-”

Pale brows furrowing. Sweat lines down his temple- “I don’t…just fit-” And he’s scrapin’ his bulbous tip down the roof of your cunt—all the way along to the back of your throat and targeting even further. “If she takes it until-”

Higuruma’s nose helping your grinds and bounces. “Just let her cum-”

“If she takes it-”

“Fucking let her-”

“G-gonna—” It’s the last thing you’re managing to get out before a sudden slam! of Nanami’s hips shut you up- and before you know it, you’re feeling the carnal scratch of his pubic hair. The feeling of his tawny curls at your skin, the intrusion of his throbbing shaft all the way down your throat.

And his thumb tapping where he’d marked a treasure spot - a spot he was supposed to meet. Nanami doesn’t have to say a single thing for Higuruma to bite his sharp canines down on your clit.

And before you know it, you’re bursting into your nth high of the night. 

Not just your second, but your third, perhaps even your fourth.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, and your moans are nothing but soft crackles at the back of your throat. Higuruma draaaaags you all throughout those waves of bliss, elongating them with the thorough lavishing of his tongue. 

Probin’ into every sweet spot.

Inside and out.

He digs his fingers into your thighs, now accomplishing his dream of having you ride his nose. Because you’re being made to arch your back n’ bounce your hips lecherously up and across.

Hittin’ those best angles- the peaks of your high absolutely burst through you. 

And Nanami? Your history professor was enjoying the view - cocking his head to the side and smiling as you shatter on Higuruma’s face. He watches about half your orgasm bate, before starting to fuck his swollen cock back in and out of you. Thrusting. 

“Now now—” Nanami murmurs. “You should be thankful my rubric’s so generous this time.”

You can only look up at him with your teary eyes.

That sight is enough for him to bite down on his lower lip n’ stop himself from cumming. No, he had something more important in his mind…

“Thirty seconds to finish up.” He says meanly. “Before I either drag your pussy off of his face or you have to drag yourself off, m’kay?”

“Tch- stingy.” Higuruma keeps lappin’ at you even after your high has passed. 

And once that thirty seconds of more bliss have passed - just like Nanami said - he grips both hands ‘round the back of your scalp and wrenches you off of his cock. Off of Higuruma’s mouth. He’s bending down to spit straight between your lips—

“Now, I’m gonna be nice this one time because you took all of me. Understood?” The history professor states, so firm. “Nod if you understand, my love.”

You nod.

“Good.” He then kisses your lips- tasting you, tasting himself. “Now…do you want it from the back or face-to-face? Because m’fucking you filthy either way.”

“From- from the back.” You pant out.

And Nanami gives a single, stern nod before he lets you go. “Brace yourself.”

You’re collapsing back into the chair—sitting your ass down on it this time. Before the law professor suddenly has you in his arms - he supports you in getting off of the armchair and standing up. Now in the middle of his office, you’re stumbling onto your wobbly feet.

Your arms loop around Higuruma’s neck. “Hiromi…”

“Mmm, I love it when you call me that.” Higuruma kisses you.

“How unruly.” Both of you snap your heads at the sound of buttons popping- only to find that Nanami was taking off his button-up. And you were right- fuck, you were so right. He was so thoroughly chiselled underneath, almost Herculean in nature.

With the most naturally defined ridges n’ curves of his muscles—his firm pectorals, his washboard abs, his meaty thighs that make an appearance.

Nanami sheds of all his clothes before he stares down the two of you- “Addressing your professor by name? Clearly going against objectives to get ready? Making me jealous? What an undisciplined class, no need to be standing around.” He looks at you, “I’ll be fucking you until you can’t stand, anyway.”

A shiver runs down your spine—“Oh.”

“Now, darling.”

Higuruma lets you waddle away to Nanami- who merely swivels you around and bends you over the edge of his colleague’s desk. Papers and ink flying everywhere across the office as he does.

Folding you forwards until your head hits the table. Kneeing your legs apart.

It’s hitting you like a truck - your history professor is about to fuck you against your law professor’s desk.

“Stay still.” He gravels in your ear.

Nanami’s barely letting you take a breath before rubbin’ his bulbous tip down your dripping wet slit from behind. Hand gripping his thick hilt—up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Getting his inches coated in a glaze of your sap, Nanami hums at the feeling of you attempting to contract around him.

“This naughty girl’s reeeeal needy for me, huh?” Scorching breath heating up your skin, he kisses down your arched spine. “She says she can take all of me- can you?”

“Y-yes—” You’re sobbing into the polished mahogany. Bucking your hips up, “I want it, sir.”

You’re jolting as his puckered, pinkish tip smooches at your wet entrance- he’s just so thick that he can plug your hole up easily. Nanami’s tip throbs against your hole, and he reaches a right hand down to feel your pretty stomach - to feel where he’s going to be hittin’ with his hungry cock. 

He breathes out airily—“You want it?”

“Yes-”

“Say please.”

“Please-”

“Hmmm?”

“Please, sir.”

Nanami lurches his hips back, back, backwards- “As you wish then, teacher’s pet.”

And then you’re being stuffed with an inch or two of him.

And by stuffed—you were seriously stuffed. 

Thick and thorough. Almost too big to even fit in - Nanami fills out the orifice of your cunt without even trying. His ruby-red tip just manages to squeeze between your pussylips, before the first ring of muscle at your entrance makes him falter.

And he’s gritting his teeth at the sheer tightness, voice coming out as nothing but a hiss. “Fuck- didn’t you say that you can take it?” He’s pressing his left hand down at the base of your spine, leaning his weight in to keep you still. “Come back, my love- class isn’t over yet.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d been clawing at the desk until now. “S-sir—”

Just that is enough to make Nanami’s ravaged tip twitch inside of you- spurting out a few more dollops of pre. “Yes, darling?”

“I d-don’t—” Fuck- you swear you could feel him grow even harder inside of you at the sight of your teary expression. Staring at your history professor over your shoulder, “I don’t know if it even can fit.”

“Awww, my poor baby.” And you should know better than to let Nanami Kento hush your cries, you should know better than to let him lull you. 

But you can’t help but get pulled into his big, strong arms anyway.

“My poor, poor baby.” And from one corner of the room, you could hear Higuruma’s distant laugh. Although you don’t have the time to wonder what it means, because Nanami’s continuing- “None of those boys ever taught you how to take a real cock, hm?” 

And you can only nod. 

“None of those boys have ever fucked you right, hm?”

Nodding once more.

“Don’t you worry, darling. If you can’t take this one…”

He presses a chaste peck against your hairline. Letting his soft breath waft over the crown of your head, and his chest ripple with his words, soft. 

“-m’gonna make it fit.”

And that’s the last thing you’re hearing before Nanami’s rammin’ his swollen, aching cock into you like an animal- his furious cockhead burrowing in deep. 

He manages to shovel just a few more inches inside, before the snugness of your channel acts up once more. Leaving him barely even able to reel his hips backwards—just that much of a tight fit that’s making his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

He shakes.

His groan cracks at the back of his throat. “O-oh.” Both of Nanami’s hands fly to the sides of your hips, and his fingers fucking shake where he holds you. “Oh, yeah.”

“Shit-” You’re flinching at the scalding sensation of his breath. Gusting.

And even that mere shiver- Nanami catches onto it. And it’s only making him clasp your body even tighter, pulling you into him—“You’re really not getting away until we make it fit, my love. Good luck.”

No matter how much his ravenous hips are rutting n’ bucking and trying oh-so-desperately to hammer even more of his inches inside- he can only fuck you in short, needy half-thrusts. The rest of him left to throb wildly behind you, he keeps on stretching and stretching your insides just to fit inside.

Each one of his bucks so desperate. So greedy.

The pointed tip of Nanami’s cockhead prods away at your innards as though he’s trying to claim every single ounce of space inside you- 

“Have you forgotten that this is a joint class, Kento?”

Higuruma’s voice is enough to send pulses of adrenaline flowing through your body - and you’re just managing to look around Nanami’s toned frame. The law professor stands behind the two of you with his arms crossed, clothes mostly on except for his trousers being tugged down.

He held his blushin’ cock in one hand, pumping furiously at the sight of his star student. 

Nanami himself sighs—though he doesn’t stop his sloppy scouring of your innards for a single second. He looks straight at the other man as he asks- “Oh yes…would you like her now or after me, Hiromi?”

“Now.” Higuruma narrows his heady eyes at the two of you. And the blond-haired man slightly growls at his answer, seemingly grappling with the thought of leaving your pretty pussy right about now- “But don’t pull out.”

You feel like you’re experiencing whiplash. “What?”

Nanami only raises a sharp brow.

And Higuruma himself can’t help but crack a sleazy smirk-

Before you know it, he’s rounding the two of you. Coat off. White button-up flapping open.

He tugs on the smooth, black tie that was hanging haphazardly from his neck- and gestures something indiscernible at the other man.

Though, clearly both professors understood.

Because one second you’re slouched on top of Higuruma’s desk, droolin’ stupidly over some important documents as Nanami Kento pounds you into oblivion - and in the next second, he’s lifting you off of it.

Cleanly off the desk.

One hand wrapped around your waist, the other putting you in a headlock.

He pulls you up as though you’re nothing- and you’re ogling the way his biceps bulge around your throat. Feeling the cushy firmness of his strength—“W-what are you-”

“D’you know what a standing full nelson is?” Higuruma asks. And for a second you think he’s asking you - maybe this was some strange sort of quiz - but then Nanami nods.

“Thought that only happens in fiction? Don’t tell me you’re a secret freak, Hiromi?” He scoffs, though he pulls out either way. 

“And look who’s talking…” Then Higuruma looks at you and taps his shoulders. “Hold on, angel, he’s going to lift you.”

“Shit…” 

As expected, you’re holding onto Higuruma’s broad shoulders for leverage- whilst Nanami bends and loops his hands around your legs. His strong forearms where your knees were. 

Scooping you up into his arms.

Holding them up.

Holding you up.

Hoverin’ well over six feet in the air.

Yelping, you’re digging your nails into the law professor’s shoulders - but if it hurt, then he doesn’t’ react to the pain. Honestly, you don’t even think he could feel it right now—because Higuruma was holding out his tie.

Measuring it against your face-

Tying it around your face like a blindfold.

He knots it at the back of your head, and suddenly the room is curtained in nothing but pure black. You could only hear the gruffness of both men’s chuckles, and Higuruma asking. “Everything alright, angel?”

“Of course, it is.” Nanami mutters- almost to himself. Though he does stretch your legs a little wider, presumably to show to the other man—“Look how fucking drenched she is.”

“Good girl.”

“Naughty, you mean.”

“I must beg to differ.”

And you’re arching against Nanami’s toned front, the plushness of his abs digging against your back. It was the most sensual massage you’ve felt in your entire life- “Please- ngh, what’s with the blindfold?”

“Oh, that…” Higuruma starts. “Guess.”

“What?”

“Guess.”

Brains wracking- “You aren’t going to leave me hanging, are you?”

“No.”

“Is this a roleplay?”

“No.”

“A kink thing?”

“Well…”

“A BDSM thing?”

“Guess.”

You’re feeling helplessness wash over you—“B-but, I already did-”

“No, my love.” Nanami’s the one to speak up this time. He leans down so that he’s pressing an innocent kiss to the edge of your hairline, “We’re going to make this slutty pussy guess which one of us she’s being fucked by.”

Your jaw drops.

And your cunt grows even wetter.

An occasion that the two professors are watching with awe-

Higuruma in particular finds himself breathing out—“And your time starts…now.”

And then you’re hearing the shuffling of his trousers- right before a sudden proddin’ intrusion starts up at your entrance. It was hot and throbbing—so needy that your teeth are set on edge by the sheer volume of precum that he was emptying out.

You’re feeling his thick tip start to eeeease in- squeezing in past the tightness of your channel for a bit before pulling back and fucking you ruthlessly in semi-thrusts.

“H-Hiromi?” You guess. Surely, with him being the one that was removing his trousers it must be…

“Wrong.” Nanami grins.

And then you’re feeling his cock give you a few vicious pumps before he’s pulling away - leaving you all empty and yearning for more. Your glistening hole clenches a few times around nothing, before a sudden globular tip starts kissin’ your entrance once more.

You’re bucking back in Nanami’s arms in an attempt to figure out just who it might be- but the history professor holds onto you firmly. Not a single inch.

Not a single inch less.

Whoever was fucking you takes no more time before swabbin’ his swollen erection inside once more- biting back a groooan at the feeling of your tightening walls.

It’s the same short, jerky thrusts from before just to fit in. 

“Sir?” You’re gasping out. But surely, it can’t be twice in a row…“No wait- is it Hiromi this time?”

The cadence of his hips stops abruptly. “Can’t get enough of the law, can you?”

Nanami.

And you don’t know whether it’s the fact that you’re just feeling your brain melt at the sheer stimulation between your legs, you don’t know whether it’s the fact that both handsome men had you sandwiched between their muscular bodies—it was just driving you wild. Making you stupid.

A line of drool slicks down the side of your mouth, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate before leaning in and lickin’ it off. “I should punish you for this.”

“I-I—oh, fuck.” Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue get swallowed up by the feeling of yet another round, ruddied cockhead pushing inwards. Pulsing. Prying apart your walls. And you’re noticing that this one is slightly slimmer than the last, more pointed, more honed, more of its curvaceous tip that tilts to the left.

It makes you shiver at the feeling of his bawling divot dragging across your walls so perfectly. “Is this- sir-”

“Try again, angel.”

It was a struggle to piece your thoughts together, and Higuruma’s voice is the only thing that makes you realize-

“Hiromi.”

“Mhmmm—” Before you know it, the other man has one hand dipping between your jittery legs. His fingers easily locate your clit to tug n’ pry like the cutest gummy - how sweet. And he’s timing it to the constant probes of his looooong, smooth cock. “Good girl. A++ for that.”

“You’re quite the generous grader.” Nanami scoffs. “I would have given that a B.”

“What can I say? I do have a soft spot for her…” Higuruma’s cock was slightly lengthier than Nanami’s, you’re noticing - though not quite as thick. And with less veins that didn’t massage your inner orifices as much, but made it soooo much easier for him to slip even deeper.

Especially with this position, he manages to probe his cockhead further past where Nanami’s thicker one was able to fit.

Reaching almost for your throat with his blushing, frenzied tip- Higuruma gives a final roll over your clit before he’s pulling out. Letting a few ribbons of sap gush down your legs after him-

Ones that are being fucked right back up with a second length.

Thicker. Harder.

Throbbing so much that you swear you can count them all the way at the top of your head- Nanami’s shaft was next. And he’s lavishing your entrance with so much attention—draaaaagging his vein-decorated shaft in and out. In and out. In and out.

“S-so?” He rasps out from behind. Higuruma’s cockhead had mazed open your insides just a bit more, and Nanami struggles not to let his voice tremble. “Which one of us, darling?”

“Y-you—”

That earns you a bite on the shell of your ear. “No.”

Before he’s pulling back out.

And your breath catches- “Wait- I meant sir. It’s you, sir—”

“Too late for that now.”

“Awww, come now.” Higuruma coos as well. “How are we supposed to make an example out of our star student if she just keeps makin’ mistakes?”

“I think she’s gettin’ lazy now, huh?” The other man responds. And now both of their ruddied cockheads were droolin’ all over your entrance- mixing with the sweetened syrup that was already dripping out of you and creating such a mess. “Maybe she doesn’t deserve our cocks at all?”

“Don’t say that—” You could feel your law professor’s eyes turn to you. “You deserve it- hah, don’t you, angel?”

Shivering at the feeling of both cocks sandwiching between your pussylips. Now that they’d both pulled out- it’s as if they were fighting over who can be next. Rubbin’ and teasing. “I do—” Your voice cracks on that last note, “P-please, I do-”

“I’m still not convinced.”

Higuruma continues, “Promise us you’ll be a good girl? That you’ll listen to what your professors have to say?”

“I will I will-”

“Promise us that no more of that teasin’ stuff in class?” His prominent nose slides down the column of your throat, breathing in your essence. “None of that bending over?”

“Yes—” But you could already hear the question in your throat - and it seems that they could, too.

And it makes Nanami gruffs out. “Because - forgive us - but you do realize that it’s not just us seeing your little…display, darling?” He spreads open your legs even wider, and Higuruma’s ministrations grow even more frenzied on your clit. Squeezing. Pinching. Flicking.

And you’re restless- “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean to say that there are others more…undeserving that see those legs of yours, those panties, those tits.” There’s a sharp edge to his words—“Those boys in class can’t take their eyes off of you.”

“We can’t either, of course.” Higuruma responds. Squeezing his cock inside- “But at least that little performance of yours is meant for us, right?”

“Don’t like the way they look at you.” Nanami’s also squeezing his cock inside now - both of them bullying your hole at once. Creating a stretch that makes your vision go white- so much carnal stimulation that your entire body wracks with shakes. “Don’t like the way they turn to look. Don’t like the way they have to mysteriously…disappear into the bathrooms any time you do your little show.”

“Given…we do the same.” The law professor continues—“Because fuck- how fuckin’ pretty you look all dressed up in silk. Makes it hard not to cream my pants everytime I see you- but none of those boys have the balls to back that admiration up.”

Giving you a thorough slam—both of them.

Higuruma’s the one to continue, “But we do.”

“Because I rub my cock raw to you, my love.” Nanami ends off, holding you close to him. “N’ none of those boys could ever fuck you like we do.”

“Yes, p-please—” And you’re pushed between both of their sculptured fronts. Unable to see them- but you could feel the ridges and curves of their muscles, the way they were both leaning in as though they couldn’t get enough of you. “I only want…ngh.”

One of your arms wrap around Higuruma’s neck, and the other reaches behind you to attempt to clasp onto Nanami’s.

“Just want the two of you…”

“Hmmm…” Nanami’s cock twitches at your gooey entrance- “A+”

And then they’re alternating between fucking you—

“Hiromi.” You’re gasping at the intrusion of his smoothened tip, the velvety texture of him reaching for so many spots inside you but most importantly- that g-spot. 

And then he’s pulling back out.

“Sir- fuck, Professor Kento.” Nanami swabs his thickened tip inside and hits that precise spot. Although he decides to take it a few steps further this time and dig his rounded tip into the very back of your pussy, bottoming-out. “Shit shit shit—”

Thrust after thrust.

Pulling out. Shovelling back in.

Making you guess just which one of your two older professors were takin’ over your pussy right now- it made your head dizzy just trying to keep track. Bounced up and down in their arms.

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi.”

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Professor Kento.”

“Hiromi—” Before your voice shatters at the feeling of…two thickened lengths attempting to fit inside. Fighting against the resistance for a few sloppy strokes before they’re siiiiiiiiiiiinking in- “And Professor K-Kento, sir…” The feeling of their large, slick-glazed cocks were just incredible - rubbin’ against your walls and one another. Like nothing earlier.

It was a stretch like you’ve never felt before, hittin’ spots that you didn’t even know you had.

And both professors held onto your shaking body tight- they shovelled their lengths in and out of you. Two blushin’ cockheads heading for your g-spot, before their slide-slide-sliiiiiding all the way down to end up at your cervix.

Stretching apart your walls.

Making your channel bulge.

Letting the curves of their mushroomy tips drag apart your walls, n’ press into the sweetest spots of your nerves. Both of their heavy ballsacks smack-smack the front of your cunt right on time with their thrusts. Thrust after thrust.

Again and again.

Nanami grunts at the sensation of Higuruma deep inside you, “F-fuck…”

“You can say that again.” Higuruma himself replies. 

By now, the jostlin’ about had meant that your blindfold was falling off- and you could see the two men upon either side of you. Shovelling their hot cocks deep inside your pussy, positively ravaging you.

The law professor’s fingers weren’t letting up on your clit just yet, either. 

He quirks his digits just a bit to draw a little heart upon it—and soon enough you find yourself throwing your head back with a moan. “G-gonna-”

“Shhhh—” Nanami grins. His ears keenly listen to the noises from between your legs - they were just so much louder now that you had two thickened shafts ramming into you. “This pussy says she’s gonna cum soon, darling.”

“Y-you little-” 

A harsh hammerin’ on your spongy cervix. “Pardon, my love?”

“Nothing—oh.” Even their thrusting styles were different - Nanami Kento with his thorough, solid slashes as though he was trying to reach your womb every single time. And Higuruma Hiromi with slightly slower, smoother glides of his cock - soothing through the nooks n’ crannies that Nanami had activated first.

It was the perfect combination.

Naughty and nice.

Though not exactly in the way you’d initially thought.

And perhaps this manner was what was making you so desperate to cum again- “Please-” Gasping. “Let me cum—”

You’re looking between a grinning Nanami and Higuruma. Dazedly.

“Please may I-” Choking out in-between the moans and droplets of saliva that were gushing out of you- falling onto Higuruma’s puffed-out chest. “-cum, sirs?”

Both of their rock-hard cocks twitch deep inside of you.

And you’re briefly seeing a silent conversation pass between them-

“Go ahead, angel.”

“Cum all over my cock, darling.”

And it might have been minutes, it might have been seconds, it might have been split-seconds later once you’re crashing into your high. The waves of white-hot pleasure taking over you until it felt like your body was burning up. 

Feverish.

You’re crying out as you attempt to bounce your lewd hips back into both their shovelling shafts- but they’ve already got you. They’re holding onto your perspired body - so limp now with pleasure - and lettin’ their pointed cockheads hit each and every nerve bundle inside.

Pinpointing your g-spot with their lengths.

Targeting it especially through peak after peak.

After peak.

Your cunt trickles with honeyed slick- and it slips between your three bodies to drench Higuruma and Nanami’s cocks. Their thighs. Their bodies. 

Making it even louder to thrust into your cunt—you’re forced to raise your voice just a little just so that they can hear. “Sh-shit…” Until eventually you’re feeling so raw on their relentless cocks that you’re unsure whether you want them to elongate those waves of bliss or whether you want to fucking run away—“It feels so- oh, it feels…”

“And what do we say?” Nanami’s deep baritone croons out. He doesn’t slow down for a single second as he speaks- even though he himself was feeling a little sensitive by this point.

He hits his full ballsack against the front of your cunt and hisses- “Can I have it all inside…” You’re looking between them with wide, heart-shaped pupils. “-sirs?”

And you should’ve known what that would do.

You should’ve known how much that would break them.

Because with only a few final thrusts, both Higuruma and Nanami cum inside you with loud slurps! of your greedy cunt. Gobblin’ up all those white ropes of seed that they were emptying out - sheer volumes that they’d been holding onto for hours, days, this entire semester.

Nanami furrows his golden brows and presses his face into the crook of your neck. Groaning as he fucks you through his orgasm, “A-and here I was just expecting a thank you…”

“Our girl always was the sweetest.” Higuruma coos. 

Your history professor rides through his high with his teeth grit, jaw working overtime to keep his noises to a minimum - he wanted to hear your soft gasps and groans even more. Though his body shakes as it keeps on thrummin’ with pleasure. 

Visceral.

Meanwhile, your law professor let out such husky grunts after each splat! of cum that he emptied out against your womb. He couldn’t even handle fucking you properly anymore and his hips kept on stutterin’ through his waves. 

Cheeks flushed. Gaze locked on you. 

He didn’t want to tear it away.

Both of them are cumming so much that you nearly can’t tell who’s who - with their dollops of heated, syrupy sap. Each divot bawling them out messily—you can feel them stick against the end of your pussy, right where your cervix was, before being stirred about by the motions of their cylindrical shafts. 

Their prominent veins massagin’ your sweetest spots. Their globular cockheads pumping every single droplet inside you.

Every single droplet.

Not a single bead of that ivory cum escapes—but they’re both still looking at each other with the same idea.

And you’re seeing yet another silent conversation pass between them that you miss. “Oh?”

In almost no time, Higuruma and Nanami have you splayed out on the polished desk - back against its flat surface, legs held high in the air. This time, however, both their faces were between your pussylips and attempting to beat the other—

They were lappin’ their dual tongues over your leaking cunt like they were starved.

Nanami’s hand pressing down on your stomach to make a few more droplets spray out of your hole- Higuruma’s hand flicking over your clit still.

You lean back on your elbows and watch them.

And what a sight it was: both their handsome faces between your legs.

They nudge their noses against the creamy layers on top of your cunt, and swivel the mess around like mad. You could see through your tears the exact moment - the exact moment - that their pinkish tongues meet in the middle.

Where Higuruma’s tastebuds overlap with Nanami’s as they’re suckling on your clit- and they both flinch at the sensation before moaning—

And that’s before the door clicks.

“Oi, why are the lights still on? Don’t you know that campus has closed a long time ag-”

You pause.

Nanami pauses.

Higuruma pauses.

And so does Professor Shiu Kong - Head of the Mathematics Department, also PhD with Distinction. 

His jaw drops as his eyes drift over from the mess of clothes on the floor, to the mess that’d been made of you. Bite marks all over your throat. The blindfold still around your neck. And even more - you could see the way his hands tighten on his files as his gaze probes deeper, taking in your leaking, lecherous cunt.

No one moves.

Except for Shiu, who steps inside.

Your heart was in your throat.

Getting ready for a berating of some kind- or potentially even worse. Perhaps a suspension, perhaps Nanami and Higuruma would be fired at once-

“So…” Shiu’s husky voice interrupts your thoughts. “-got room for mathematics?”

A/N. Heheheheh ofc we got room for youuuuuuuuu Shiu <33

Plagiarism not authorized.

[saatorus]

⋆˚꩜｡your boyfriend choso uses his blood manipulation technique to fuck you multiple times

cw; multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, brief m receiving oral ... improper use of cursed technique (yes this is inspired from tiktok!)

you’re already a mess beneath him, sheets twisted around your legs, sweat slicking your skin as choso drives into you with that relentless rhythm. his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the dim room. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come tonight—maybe three? four? but it’s not enough. it’s never fucking enough with him.

“shit, you’re so tight,” he groans, voice rough, breath hot against your neck. his black hair’s falling out of those stupid buns, strands sticking to his forehead as he fucks you deeper, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. you arch your back, pushing against him, chasing that high again even though your body’s screaming for a break. but you don’t want one. you want him to ruin you.

he’s close, you can feel it in the way his thrusts stutter, the way his abs tense under your fingers as you claw at him. “come on, baby,” you whimper, clenching around him on purpose. “give it to me.”

that does it. choso slams into you one last time, burying himself deep as he comes, hot spurts filling you up, making everything even messier. he collapses over you for a second, chest heaving, lips brushing your shoulder. but you’re not done. neither is he. you grind back against him, feeling him soften just a bit inside you, and whine, “more. i need more.”

he lifts his head, those dark eyes meeting yours—intense, almost feral. “yeah?” his voice is low, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you sure you can take it? don’t wanna go too overboard.”

“fuck yes,” you breathe, reaching down to stroke him where he’s still half-buried in you. he hisses, sensitive, but doesn’t pull away. instead, you feel it—that subtle hum of cursed energy, the faint metallic tang in the air. blood manipulation. his technique. he’s using it on himself, redirecting flow, pumping blood right where it counts. you watch his face, the concentration, the way his markings seem to pulse under his eyes.

and then—fuck—he’s hard again. instantly. throbbing inside you like he never came at all. “oh god,” you moan, eyes widening as he swells, stretching you anew. it’s unnatural, freaky as hell, but that’s what makes it so good. no waiting. just him, ready to wreck you all over. he doesn’t waste time. pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts back in hard, making you gasp. “like that?” he growls, starting up that punishing pace again. your pussy’s so sensitive now, every drag of his cock sending sparks up your spine. he’s thicker somehow, or maybe it’s just the overstimulation making everything feel amplified. you grab the sheets, knuckles white, as he fucks you into the mattress.

“choso—fuck, yes,” you cry, legs shaking. he hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder, opening you up wider, hitting deeper. you can feel his cum from before leaking out with every thrust, making everything slippery, obscene. his hand slides down, thumb finding your clit, rubbing circles that have you seeing stars. “you’re dripping,” he mutters, almost to himself, eyes fixed on where he’s sliding in and out of you. “taking me so well.”

you come again fast, too fast, body convulsing, walls fluttering around him. it’s intense, almost painful, but the pleasure overrides it. he doesn’t stop, though. rides you through it, thrusting steady, using that technique to stay rock hard. “good girl,” he praises, voice strained. “but we’re not done.”

he flips you over like you weigh nothing, onto your stomach, ass up. you barely have time to catch your breath before he’s back inside, hands on your waist pulling you onto him. this angle’s brutal, he’s so deep you feel him in your guts. “shit, choso, slow down!" you beg, but it’s half-hearted. you don’t want him to slow down. you want him to break you.

“can’t,” he grunts, pounding harder. “you feel too fucking good.” one hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so he can kiss your neck, bite down just enough to sting. the other hand smacks your ass, the sharp pain mixing with the pleasure, making you clench tighter. he groans at that, hips snapping forward. “do that again.”

you do, squeezing around him on purpose, and he rewards you with another smack, then rubs the spot soothingly before sliding his fingers down to your clit again. you’re a wreck, moaning incoherently, drool soaking the pillow. another orgasm builds, coiling tight in your belly. “i’m gonna—fuck, again,” you warn, voice breaking.

“do it,” he demands, thrusting erratically now. “come on my cock.” and you do, shattering, body going limp as waves crash over you. he follows this time, spilling inside you with a deep moan, but even as he does, you feel that cursed energy kick in. he doesn’t soften. stays hard, keeps moving, slow rolls of his hips that make you whimper from the sensitivity .“choso, i can’t—” you start, but he shushes you, pulling out gently only to roll you onto your back again. he hovers over you, cock still rigid, glistening with your mixed fluids. “you can,” he says, almost gentle now, but there’s that edge in his eyes. “one more. for me.”

you nod, too far gone to argue. he slides back in easy, your pussy welcoming him despite the ache. this round’s slower, more grinding than thrusting—him rocking into you, bodies pressed close. his mouth finds yours, kiss messy, tongues tangling. “you’re perfect,” he murmurs against your lips. “made for this. for my dick.” his hand dips between you, fingers teasing your slippery clit lightly, building you up teasingly slow. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, nails raking down his back. he hisses, picking up speed, fucking you with long, deep strokes. the room smells like sex—sweat, cum, that faint cursed tang. it’s intoxicating. “harder,” you beg, chasing that edge again. he obliges, slamming into you, bed creaking under the force. your clit’s throbbing under his fingers, every nerve on fire. “choso! please, i’m close.”

“me too,” he admits, breath ragged. but he holds back, using his technique to edge himself, drawing it out. “want to feel you first.” his thumb presses harder on your clit, circling fast, and you break; orgasm ripping through you, back arching, vision blurring. you scream his name, clenching so tight it pulls him over too. he comes with a curse, flooding your insides again, but this time he lets himself soften a bit, pulling out halfway through.

wait—no. you feel it pulse, that energy, and he’s hard once more. “fuck, choso,” you laugh breathlessly, half-delirious. he smirks, but his eyes are soft. he pushes back in, but slower now, almost lazy. “can’t get enough of you.” this time it’s intimate—him grinding deep, hands roaming your body, pinching your nipples, sucking marks into your neck. you’re oversensitive, every touch electric, but you love it. crave it. he builds you up again, patient, whispering dirty shit in your ear. “love feeling you full of me,” he says. “gonna fuck you till you can’t walk. fill this pussy up again ‘n again.” his words send shivers down your spine, pussy clenching. he notices and thrusts harder. “like that? want me to use you?”

“yes,” you moan, hands in his hair, tugging. “use me. fuck me stupid.”

he growls, pace picking up. slams into you over and over, hand around your throat—not choking, just holding. your eyes roll back, another climax approaching, body teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure once again. “come for me,” he orders, fingers back on your clit. “wanna feel you milk me again.” it hits like a freight train, body seizing, his own cum gushing around him out of you as your muscles tense and you squirt a little, soaking the sheets. he groans, thrusting through it, then pulls out suddenly. “on your knees,” he says, voice commanding.

you obey, shaky, dropping to the floor beside the bed. he stands, cock hard and slick, technique keeping him going. you take him in your mouth, tasting yourself on him, sucking deep. he fists your hair, guiding you, fucking your face gently at first, then harder. “good girl,” he praises. “take it all.”

you do, gagging a bit but loving it. he comes down your throat with a moan, hot and thick, but even then he hardens again almost immediately. pulls you up, bends you over the edge of the bed again. slides back into your pussy from behind, mirror on the opposite side of the room showing your fucked-out face, his intense stare.

“look at yourself,” he says, hand on your jaw, making you watch. “see how wrecked you are?” thrusts punctuate his words, deep and rough. you’re dripping down your thighs, body trembling. he reaches around, pinches your clit, and you come again, vision almost blacking out, knees buckling. he holds you up, fucking you through it, then finally—finally—lets himself go, coming one last time without the technique boost. you both collapse onto the bed, panting, limbs tangled. “enough?” he asks, voice soft now, fingers tracing your spine.

“for now,” you mumble, smiling into his chest. but you both know—with him—it’s never really enough.

saw this on tiktok yesterday and was like hmmm i have GOT to write abt this cause i've been in a choso slump recently because of the new season :')

[fricks]

"choso, did you just... cum?" ☆

you don't mean to sound accusatory but you're so caught off-guard that you can't help but ask. your not-yet boyfriend is sat beneath you with his eyes screwed shut and bottom lip still caught between his teeth.

he shakes his head no in such a quick manner that one of his hairties come loose. a rosy pink blushes his nose and cheeks and you can’t quite tell if it’s from embarrassment or the fact that he literally just came in his pants from kissing you.

you weren’t even grinding on him. sure, you were sat in his lap and were more than aware of the hardening bulge beneath you—but you’re so early in this relationship that you’re not even sure you can call him your boyfriend just yet, so you obviously weren’t going to address his boner regardless of how badly you wanted to feel his dick pulse against you.

okay so maybe you were grinding on him a little. chasing just enough friction to remind yourself of all the good things in life, like choso and his abnormally large cock that you hope to one day soon feel so deep it's practically in your stomach.

"i didn't," he lies poorly. "i just... sneezed."

"you didn't sneeze."

"i did, it was a silent one."

"like a silent fart?"

"no! god, just... i need a minute, okay? to clean up."

you sit down a little more firmly against choso's cock, which is still so rock hard that you almost wonder if he didn't actually cum in his pants. you know an orgasm when you see it, though, and the way choso basically moaned like a whore once he got a taste of your lips left nothing to the imagination. he came alright.

"you need to clean up your silent sneeze?" you tease him, pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. "are you lying to me, cho?"

"will you break up with me if i say yes? i'm embarrassed." god he looks gorgeous with this hazy post-orgasm gloss to his eyes. his lips look swollen from your kisses, and you decide you want to keep him like this until he's old and grey and too fucked dumb to ever move.

"can we even break up? are we dating?" you ask, and drag your clothed cunt along the length of his sensitive cock for good measure. "you never asked to be my boyfriend."

choso looks offended. "but- but you just..."

"what, made you cum with a kiss? i've about earned the right to call you my boyfriend, right?"

he nods frantically and, without meaning to, bucks his hips up to meet yours a little better. you can feel all of him now, rock hard against your most sensitive spots even with a few layers of fabric between you. you wonder if lust-induced hypnosis is real and whether or not you're a victim of his wiles.

"it's settled then," you nod. "you want help cleaning up?"

"uhh..." choso hesitates. he didn't think becoming partnered meant sponge baths, though he doesnt think he'd deny you the opportunity, or himself the experience.

"a blowjob, choso. i want to clean you up. with my mouth. this is dirty talk."

choso blinks. "oh," he says. "then yes please."

[tacticaldiary]

Stray Shadows

PAIRING: Jason Todd x Reader

SYNOPSIS: "I'm here, baby." With a gentleness so at odds with the violence moments prior, he runs a soothing hand up and down her arm. Not pulling or pushing, just grounding. "It's Jason. Look at me?"

Gingerly she raises her head and uncurls. When he takes the moment to look her over, he sincerely wishes he'd shoved the gun down that bastard's throat before pulling the trigger.

NOTE: Love protective Jason

MASTERLIST

When she'd confided in Jason about the person that came to her little cafe just to seemingly stare at her, her boyfriend's eyes had immediately narrowed. It's not jealously, both of them have known each other long enough for that to be a petty thing of the past, but the way his stance shifts into something more protective tells her it was the right decision to ask for help.

"He tries to talk to me sometimes." She admits, running a hand through his hair, letting her nails scrape gently across his scalp. "It's nothing forward, but it's just...something about him."

"Trusting your intuition is the most fullproof way to keep out of trouble." Jason had said, looking up from where his head was on her lap. "Does he try and touch you?"

"No, I'm always behind the counter." She tips her head back to rest on the couch cushion. "But he's always staring, you know? He just sits at the table by the window and stares at me most of the time. I think he took a photo once." The frown on her face doesn't belong there, neither does the stressed furrow in her brow.

"Fucking creep." Jason breathes. "Want me to take care of it?"

"'Take care' as in like...put him down or-?"

"Jesus-" He snorts. "No. I mean, I guess if you want?" A gentle, admonishing tug to his hair makes him roll his eyes.

"I don't want him dead. Just want him to stop creeping me out." He grabs her hand, brings it to rest over his heart and tangles their fingers together.

"Sure." His lips press against her knuckles affectionately. Simple and promised. He's a man of his word.

And that's that.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The plan works better than expected, honestly. An hour after she opened the store, her stalker was there an hour later like clockwork.

She meets Jason's eye from across the counter, tilts her head towards the table in question and watches her boyfriend stand to his full height and crack his neck before approaching.

From the outside it looks harmless enough, the way Jason takes a seat opposite the man, blocking her view from him. The line of his shoulders is straight, but relaxed and in control. She can see him crossing his arms, leaning closer to say something in a dropped octave that makes his companion go pale.

It's a second later that he's scurrying away, coffee cup forgotten on the table. Jason watches him leave the entire time, takes note of the car's licence plate. He doesn't interrupt her work, doesn't pull her aside and make a big deal of it.

They share a look while the person at the register is busy looking at the menu options. When she offers him a grateful smile, he nods with a small one of his own before tucking his jacket under his arm and taking his leave, the promise to come back to walk her home already a familiar routine between them.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sometimes she hates her shitty luck.

They'd run out of vanilla syrup, and the grocery store was only a few minutes away. In hindsight, she should have trusted the uneasy gut feeling that had followed her ever since she stepped out of her store, but she figured it was the lingering unease from this morning.

She turns to cut through an alley, the usual route she takes, when the sound of boots walking a bit too fast behind her makes her slow down. Startled, she whips around, and takes a second too long to react before someone grabs her and shoves her hard against the alley wall.

"What the fuck-" She's cut off by a hand closing around her throat, a body pressed harshly against her to keep her still.

"You think it's funny to send your fucking attack dog after me?" The man from the cafe sneers, pressing her into the wall harder. "Can't just take the fucking compliment, can you?"

Shit. It's the same beady black eyes that send chills down her spine when her back is turned that glare at her now. He's pissed, and she can't decide if it's better or worse that she knows why.

"Nothing's a compliment when it comes from a creep." She snaps, gasping as the hand around her throat tightens, the grip crushing. Panicked, she claws at his forearm, leaving deep, red scratches on bare skin. The pressure doesn't let us, desperation intensifying as dizziness sets in.

"Creep?!" He hisses, and she can smell his rancid breath. "Entitled women like you give everyone else a bad name! You liked the attention, I know you did-"

She swings a fist and catches him in his right ear.

The rest of his bullshit is choked off in a startled cry as the man stumbles back, ear ringing, momentarily disorientated from the blow. The minute his hand are off her, she crumples to the ground, gasping in a lungful of air. Scrambling to find her feet, she breaks into a clumsy run for the end of the alley. If she can make it out and into the public eye, someone would see her, her cafe wasn't too far from here either-

Something slams into her so hard she topples over onto the dirty ground. Her shriek is cut off with a hand clamped over her mouth. She's pinned down, and the cold fury in the man's expression makes her blood run cold.

"You bitch." He spits. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He's shouting at her, inches away from her face. Fear makes itself at home in her heart, right next to the boiling anger. The two co-exist, melding into an odd reaction of neither fight nor flight.

His hands are cold and cruel, pressed too tight into her skin for her to try and bite his fingers off, arms pinned by his other one, lower body immobile by the way he's sitting on her. The bastard was heavy. He's speaking, spitting at her, promising threats she can only hear the tail end of over the rush of blood in her ear, and her heartbeat thumping hard against her chest. Still, she doesn't look away, doesn't squeeze her eyes shut or let the prickle of tears win over. If he's going to hurt her, he'll do it looking at the hatred in her eyes, the disgust and loathing that cover up the fright.

A crunch and a rustle snaps his attention away. Teeth bared, he casts a look over his shoulder. The distraction prompts her to kickstart struggling again, and she squirms and thrashes.

"Stop that!" He snaps his head back and hisses, squeezes her wrists together tighter. "I won't-"

The crunch of bone echoes off the alley wall, and the weight is abruptly pulled off her.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Rage has always been his companion.

Sometimes an ally, sometimes an instigator, it's always nipping at his heels. He's doing better now, now that there's not as much to be bitter about, not as much to look at and wish it were different. Hate and distrust are seeds sowed so deep inside him, it's taken years to dig their roots back out into something more manageable.

The honest truth of it all is that sometimes Jason's grateful he's never been able to banish the entirety of it. His rage is explosive, it's burning red and eats everything in its path. Sometimes he can sharpen it and make it a deadly sort of quiet, the kind you'll never notice until it's too late. Other times it's sudden, explosive, loud and demanding attention.

Either way, it is never let loose without intention.

Breaking that man's nose does little to calm what's boiling though him. Nor does the crack of the man's skull against brick. Neither does the way he kicks at his leg so hard he hears the tibia snap.

Jason slams the fucker that had his hands on his girl into the wall again, towers over him, drags him up till his feet are dangling an inch off the floor. "Nothing to say?" He says lowly. There's no amusement, just a low growl that makes grown men shiver. "You loved talkin' a minute ago. I wanna hear it again."

When the guy opens his mouth, Jason shifts his grip to press his forearm against his neck, crushing it until all the sound that comes out is a weak rasp. Scoffing, he grinds his foot into the part of his broken leg. "Should've taken the fucking hint back then."

The asshole crumples to the ground when Jason pulls him from the wall and tosses him like he weighs nothing. He registers somewhere in the back of his mind that she's still here, that she's watching him slip into a place he only lets himself into when he's wearing a mask.

The other part of him snarls in vicious satisfaction, the need to reassure her that she's safe. Jason would put two bullets into himself before he lets this slimy motherfucker breathe in the same vicinity as her again.

With a grace that should not befall a man of his stature, he crouches next to the pathetic lump of a man. The metal of his gun clinks softly against it's holster as he pulls it out.

"Sorry." The man chokes out when the barrel is pressed to his shoulder. "'m sorry man-"

"Thought you could get away with that shit, huh?" Jason says quietly. There's no need to raise his voice to make this point. "You think you're tough shit?" The cold metal moves from his shoulder to the center of his neck. He leans down, stops right beside the man's ear.

"I should blow your fucking larynx out." He whispers. "But I guess you're lucky I'm 'reformed'." The gun shifts.

He pulls the trigger.

Two shots ring out, the ringing mixed with strangled screams. Jason watches for a moments, lets the carnage center himself before pulling himself to stand.

The tattered remains of the man's blown off right hand make him wrinkle his nose in disgust, and Jason steps over it nonchalantly to get to his real objective.

She has her back pressed to the farthest wall, knees tucked to her chest, head tipped down into her arms. Just because she could hear it happen doesn't necessarily mean that she wanted to see it herself. Jason understands. He always does.

Quickly, he kneels in front of her, calling out her name softly and pulling her arms away from her-

She flinches, pulling tighter into herself.

Jason takes a deep breath. She needs him now, going to finish off that fucker won't help with anything but his anger.

"It's okay." He says instead, pitches his voice soft in a way only she ever gets to hear. "I'm here, baby." With a gentleness so at odds with the violence moments prior, he runs a soothing hand up and down her arm. Not pulling or pushing, just grounding. "It's Jason. Look at me?"

Gingerly she raises her head and uncurls. When he takes the moment to look her over, he sincerely wishes he'd shoved the gun down that bastard's throat before pulling the trigger.

A ring of dark bruising covers her throat, with distinct fingerprint shapes scattered here and there. Her wrists and upper arms are in the same same shape.

He curses softly, and this time when he reaches out to gather her into his arms, she responds quickly, melting into him. "I've got you." He mumbles into her hair. "Shouldn't have left you there."

"You couldn't have known." And the way she rasps the words out sounds like it hurts. Jason's grip tightens for just a moment.

"I should've."

She shakes her head, presses her face into his shoulder, and he wisely doesn't bring up the wetness he can feel seep into the cotton. Fingers tangle into her hair to press her closer.

What if he'd been too late, he thinks, and the thought terrifies him to his core. He knew something was off even before he reached the cafe to walk home with her. Jason should have known, he's a vigilante for fucks' sake. He knows the streets, he knows what people are like. It's just that that fucker ran with his tail tucked between his legs so quickly, Jason honestly did not think he'd ever come back, let alone pull something like this.

He got here, he reminds himself. She's safe. She'll be alright. Everything would be alright. He'd take her home, take care of her and the bruising, and make damn sure nothing like this ever happened again.

"I wanna go home." Her voice cracks, muffled by the fabric.

"Yeah." Immediately, he's sliding a strong arm under her and picking her up, because like hell is he letting her walk in that state. Having her so close soothes both of them, the reassurance of each other's presence.

She feels safe, so safe in his arms. The familiar cologne, the scent of his skin and clothes, the way his body feels familiar pressed against hers. The soothing timbre of his voice calms her racing heart a bit, until she can find it in herself to peer over his shoulder.

Jason merely shifts to obscure her vision.

"Don't worry about that." He mumbles, pressing a kiss to her temple. "He won't fuck with you again."

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(4/12/2025)

[tacticaldiary]

The Cost Of Rashness

PAIRING: Jason Todd x Reader

SYNOPSIS: "You're as high as a fucking kite. You can barely stand straight!" He pushes out a sharp exhale when she shakes her head, chest tightening. "What, you didn't trust me? Is that it? You didn't think I'd help you through it, that I'd think less of you? That I'd leave you?"

Jason fucked up. He fucked up so bad and he doesn't know if he can make it better. Someone had hurt her and he'd pushed his own fears into the mix and warped it into being about him.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Debating a Part 2 that's purely comfort, let me know what ya'll think

Sometimes Jason forgets that he has a home.

He's always had a place he stayed at, an alley when he was little, the manor when he was a teen and then his own apartment later on. Houses and places, but never a home. He never used to put much thought into the decor, or choose the coziest blankets because what if he had to move a month later.

His keys clink on the table in the entryway, right under the ugly picture frame they bought as a joke, but grew on them too much to throw away. Under his boots is the small carpet he picked out, and against the wall a little mirror that she insisted was necessary. It's the little things that pile up together to bring him a sense of peace and stability in his busy life. Jason ducks down to put his boots in the corner before heading farther into the apartment, stretching his shoulders out, groaning a little when the tension pops out of them.

"I'm home." He calls out quietly, low voice audible in the quiet. There's no answer back, which isn't a reason for too much concern. Maybe she's in the shower, or their bedroom.

God, he nearly sighs in relief at the thought of collapsing into bed with her at the end of the day. These fucking goons and their stupid transfers at the docks. You'd think transporting tons of arms would be more obvious to pin down, but the crooks in Gotham have always been slippery.

Jason smiles to himself when he turns the corner to the open plan kitchen, spots his girlfriend, soon to be fiance if the ring hidden under their mattress has anything to say about it, standing there next to the dining table with her back to him. He wonders if she'd be convinced to skip cooking dinner and order takeout instead. It's been a while since they've been out to a restaurant together, but Jason's so exhausted he doesn't think he has it in him to do that right now.

He's about to suggest just that, when something about her makes him stop in his tracks. She's...tense, shoulders bunched near her ears, and she still hasn't turned around even when he'd made his footsteps louder on purpose to not startle her. He moves closer, immediately on alert.

"Hey." He narrows his eyes as she turns around jerkily, shifts in place as he looks her over quickly. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing." She says quickly, clasping her hands together to disguise the tremors. "It's nothing, Jay." There's an unnatural pallour to her skin that sends alarm bells ringing through his head.

"Try again. You're shaking." He argues, a warm hand wrapping around both of hers. He lets go, running his hands up and down her arms instead, as if to check for injuries. "What is it? You hurt?" Jason's frown only deepens when he notes the odd dilation of her pupils up close. She pulls away quickly, turning around.

"I'm...I'm fine. Just tired. Need to sleep it off."

It makes him antsy, restless to see her so closed off. They don't work like this, they've never hid anything from each other. Both of them are honest to a fault, so this is a first and it makes him uneasy enough to push for answers. If she's in trouble, he wants to know. He wants to help his girl.

"Hey." He grabs her shoulder gently but firmly, turning her back towards him. "If someone's screwing with you..." The words die in his throat as his gaze drops to her shoulder.

A smear of white on her shirt.

Powdery.

It takes a second. It shouldn't have, but it does. Slowly, Jason stares at the mark, then back up at her, back down again. She's saying something, her mouth is moving but the sudden static in his ears is louder. The trembling, the twitchiness, the pupils.

He feels the frigid Gotham winters nipping at his fingers, hears the scratch of cardboard that the kids around him tried to huddle under, sees the twitching, shaky hands of people rummaging through dumpsters and picking up stray needles, desperate for their next fix. Gaunt faces, frail and shaky limbs. Kids that had their whole life ahead of them reduced to a husk of themselves through no fault of their own. Roy. He thinks of Roy.

Jason blinks and for a second he's back with his mom. Her breath used to rattle in wet inhales in the last moments, scratching at herself or the nearest surface, lashing out and knocking over bottles to yank open the drawer she kept her stash in.

He takes a step back, betrayal burning in his chest. Hurt is the most prominent; hurt, a ball so painful in the center of his chest it feels like it's choking him. It starts to morph and bubble into something more familiar. Anger is his companion, has always protected and shielded him from the worst of reality. It seeps into him now, soothing over the cracks of concern and rationality. All he sees is someone he loves turn to the one thing that destroyed everyone else he had.

He breathes out, harsh and hoarse. He doesn't see the way she stills, eyes wide. "Why would you need that?" A hand rakes through his hair, pausing to yank at the strands for a moment. "You know what I do, who I was, what I've seen." Jason's voice cracks, but he pushes forward. "And you still...I could've helped you. I would've helped you."

Anything but this.

A quick step forward towards him, the words rush out of her desperately. " It's not what you think! I would never use, you know I wouldn't." Her voice cuts in. "Just listen-"

"But you did!" He snaps, moving back, clutching onto the top of the dining table chair next to him. "You're as high as a fucking kite. You can barely stand straight!" He pushes out a sharp exhale when she shakes her head, chest tightening. "What, you didn't trust me? Is that it? You didn't think I'd help you through it, that I'd think less of you? That I'd leave you?"

"No, I-"

"Well you were fucking right." The chair scrapes as he shoves it aside, on a warpath to the front door. "Fuck that." He can't do it again. He can't, he can't. The thought of watching it happen to her strikes a cold fear so overwhelming he nearly doubles over at the thought.

"Wait!" She puts herself between him and the door, hands raised. Jason narrows his eyes at the way they shake and side steps her immediately. "Just listen to me first!"

There's a moment of stillness, where Jason pauses at the door, hand curled around the handle.

"No." A beat of silence. "I'm not going to be here to watch your body go cold. Not again."

Shoulders shaking, the static in his ears tunes out the distant protests as he pulls the door open and slams it shut behind him.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Three hours later and the panic clutching his chest still hasn't fully receded. It makes him less stealthy as he skulks through the alleys on his usual patrol route near crime alley. His head isn't in the game and some part of his brain that sounds annoyingly like Bruce chides him for being out here with this mindset, but another, more vicious part of him wants to punch as many people as he can until he feels better.

Jason briefly wonders if she feels better. It looked like she was on the tail end of whatever she took, so the tremors of withdrawl should be setting in now. Jason...he really thought this was it. That he'd caught a break, that he'd found someone who made him feel like he didn't poison everything he touched. That somehow, someway, someone could look at his hands and not flinch away from the blood still on them.

Fuck, he loved her. He loves her, loves her so fiercely it hurts worse than getting shot. Hell, Jason would've preferred that ten times over than what he'd found out today. She just understood him, looked at all the mismatched parts of him and helped him stitch them back into something worth living for.

Contrary to his outburst, Jason wouldn't leave her to deal with a drug addiction herself. He'd point people who could help in her direction but he just...he can't be there if things go wrong. He can't, and he feels like such a fucking monster but he knows he'll never stop seeing his past if he stays.

It makes him feel like he's eight again.

It makes him feel scared. Panicked.

He grits his teeth and focuses on the crunch of gravel beneath his boots instead. The way he smells the gunpowder lingering in the air around him. A stakeout was the worst thing right now, but shipments of illegal arms didn't exactly tend to convenience his calendar.

Slowly, Jason squeezes his eyes shut to center himself before slipping behind one of the big shipping containers to eavesdrop.

It's clearly Penguin that's behind this, he recognises three of the men exchanges hands with two others. Their voices ring clear over the crowded space, and Jason watches as one of them move over to crack open one of the smaller containers.

Not guns.

Sacks of white powder.

The universe hates him.

"New, improved product. Tried and tested." One of the guys slurs proudly. "Nailed a few people with 'em a couple hours ago myself. Puffed onto their face, should've seen how quick the onset was." He snickers, yanking out a few pieces of crumpled paper from his belt and shoving them at Penguin's goons.

Whatever, Jason's seen enough. The anger bubbling in his makes taking them down quick and easy. He moves silently, but not quietly. The air shifts when he steps out into the dim light of the moon.

The fight is over before anyone has a chance to draw their weapons.

Shaking his head, kicking one of the unconscious men, Jason closes the shipping container back up and reaches to pick up the scattered documents as evidence. His hand comes up to tap at his comms to call it in, let the Bat's take over the cleanup.

The documents aren't words, they're photo's. Slightly blurry, clearly taken

He stills. Not a muscle twitches.

That's his girl, looking into the camera. Scared. In the same outfit she was wearing before he left.

The paper crumples in his fist.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He stumbles into their apartment, barely remembering to shut the door behind him as he calls out her name. Panic thrums through him, barely kept on a leash. When there's no answer, Jason quickens his steps, discarding his helmet on the ground. "Are you home!?" He calls out, urgent.

The crunch of glass under his feet stops him in his tracks. Lifting his boot, his throat tightens at the picture frame shattered under him. Gingerly, he picks it up, swallowing back the lump in his throat at the photo of them together. A candid. She's mid squeal while he lifts her up with one arm, looking up with the softest expression Jason's ever seen himself wear.

He sets it down carefully, taking a deep, shuddering breath, pressing his palm to his eyes for a moment.

Jason fucked up. He fucked up so bad and he doesn't know if he can make it better. Nausea and self-hatred churn in his gut like something rotten, choking him. The hurt in her eyes when he'd left, the foul fucking words he'd spewed at her.

Why didn't he listen? Why didn't he hear her out? Someone had hurt her and he'd pushed his own fears into the mix and warped it into being about him.

Who knew what that batch of drugs was mixed with. It could be dangerous, what if there was unchecked side effects? What if she was incapacitated? Having trouble breathing? Did he really fucking up and leave her like that?

The comment he made about finding her dead earlier makes bile burn in his throat.

'Please' He thinks, throwing open doors. Not in the kitchen, or the laundry. His heart is racing, fear so potent cutting through his veins it almost throws him off balance. Still no answer to his calls, but he cocks his head at the sound of running water from the bathroom. The door is half cracked open, steam billowing out of it.

Quickly, he pushes it open to step inside.

Jason's chest seizes in fear at the sight of her sprawled on the tile, still clothed, the shower running empty.

"No." He breathes. His knees hit the floor next to her hard but the bruising is the farthest thing on his mind right now.

"Hey, wake up." He cups her face, brushes her hair out of her face. "C'mon, angel. Come on." His voice breaks as he taps her cheek insistently. Her chest is rising and falling, but Jason presses a clumsy hand to her neck to feel her pulse anyway. It flutters under his fingers, too fast for his liking. "Wake up." Knuckles dig harshly into her sternum, rubbing up and down, and the deep pain from it is what eventually rouses her.

Jason gasps out an exhale when she stirs, bundles her close to his chest in his lap immediately, face pressed into her hair. "Fuck, 'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"J'sn...?" She slurs, and something in him breaks.

"It's me." He breathes, pulling back to look at her. "I'm here. I've got you."

A shaking hand curls into the front of his jacket weakly. "'s cold." She coughs. "Am I...where?"

"It's okay. Just the withdrawal, you're safe." He says, grabbing her hand to give it a squeeze before gently putting it down. His jacket comes off with the sole purpose of wrapping it around her. Once it's secure, Jason picks her up, turns the shower off, and walks back outside to settle. She's shaking against him from a phantom chill.

He smooths her hair back once she's laying down on their bed, and feels like an asshole for stripping the blankets away when she tries to hike them over herself.

"Please. 'm cold." She cries softly, and Jason's heart breaks all over again. He presses his lips to her forehead for a long while, whispering soothing nonsense and trying not to drown in self-loathing. He can't give her anything because he doesn't know what was in the mix of drugs. Jason won't risk a reaction that could potentially kill her. He doesn't know how fast the symptoms progressed either because he's a selfish fucking asshole and stormed out without accepting an explanation.

He needs to get her to the cave, needs the tech there to make sure she'll be okay. Blindly, he reaches for his phone in his pocket, and it takes three tries for him to unlock it. She's in no condition for them to take his bike, and he hates calling in favours from his family on a good day but he'd lay down his weapons and promise to abide by any of their stupid rules if it meant she'd be okay.

With a shaky inhale, he presses the phone to his ear and calls Dick.

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(20/1/2026)

[finelinevogue]

i’ve got you

summary - clark saves you just in time, but you don't make him aware of the extent of your injuries

pairing - dcu!clark kent x gf!reader

word count - ~2.5k

Your ears were still buzzing as you stumbled out onto the street.

A hard body slammed into your right side, distorting you more than you already felt. Your eyes tried to stay open as you adjusted to the hazy sun and the thick dust swarming the air around you.

Somebody screamed behind you, which caused a chain of people to start screaming.

You turned around on wobbly feet, and noticed the building behind you topple forwards. Your jaw dropped to gasp but the dust invaded instead, causing you to choke and cough. 

People were running towards you - trying to run away from the collapsing building.

Regardless of the fact you couldn’t hear still, you forced one foot in front of the other and tried your best to get out of there. You broke into a run when reality started to settle around you. If you didn’t run fast enough you weren’t getting out of this alive.

The building continued to fall and fast. 

You listened to Clark’s voice in your head telling you to always run facing towards, and never to look back. So you did.

You were so determined to run forwards, however, you stumbled on a bit of road debris and went flying onto the floor. Your hands broke your fall, grazing harshly over the ground, before your knees went down too. 

You screamed in pain as something dug into your side as you fell down. 

Another cough broke from you as you began to pick yourself back up, only to look back and realise you’d never make it in time now. 

You closed your eyes and waited for impact - for the end. 

That was until a sudden impact hit you from the side, swooping you fast to the side and then up into the air. All you felt was the sudden wind and overwhelming relief.

Clark.

You held your arms tight around him and nuzzled your face into his neck. Yes. It was definitely him - you could tell by the faint remnants of his cologne.

“I’ve got you.” He said, still flying fast. 

He must have looped in the air because your stomach dropped quickly. You held on a little bit tighter, but so did Clark. 

You felt Clark’s body settle and the wind lighten, meaning that he had landed, but you still didn’t let go or move your face from the safety of his body.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Clark whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you.” He kept repeating to himself, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he’d made it in time and you were safe.

Your heart was catching up to the insanity of the situation, beating too fast for comfort. 

You knew that Clark was needed elsewhere though, because you weren’t the only civilian in Metropolis. You needed him, but so did everyone else. 

Pulling away from the comfort and security of his neck was scary, but you knew he had to leave. You didn’t want to be the reason that someone else ended up with the same fate that you nearly did.

“Let me see you.” Clark said, placing his hands delicately on your cheeks. His big, blue, eyes scanned over your face to check you didn’t have any signs of concussion. 

“Yo-You’ve got dirt on your nose.” Your words were shaky, but you tried to remain strong for Clark. 

As much as you wanted to cry, you couldn’t fall apart when the world still needed him.

Clark offered a small smile, but couldn’t hide the worry on his face. 

You lifted a hand to brush over his nose, not really wiping any dirt away, “You need to go.” Your words were soft and whispered amongst the chaos of the city.

“But…”

“I’m okay.” You nodded.

Clark nodded too. He knew he had to, but leaving you was hard enough when it came to simply waking up before you let alone after a traumatic event. 

“I love you.” He said, kissing you carefully - like he was scared of damaging you any further.

“I love you too. Now, go.”

“Be careful.” Clark let go of you and you felt the absence of his touch deep in your bones.

“You too, Superman.”

Clark smiled before shooting off into the sky, no doubt to save more people, deal with whatever inter-dimensional beast was causing havoc in the city and do what he does best which is serve the people of Earth.

After watching Clark turn into no more than a smudge in the sky, you took a moment to locate yourself. 

Of course.

You were on the roof of a tall building. One day you’ll manage to get Clark to let you down on solid ground, rather than potential toppling buildings.

Sighing, you opened the door to the roof staircase and started the long journey down them. There was no way that you were taking the lift even if this old building did have one - especially not when the city is this unstable. 

You’d made it down three flights of stairs when your vision went fuzzy and your entire right side of your body burst with pain. 

“Gahh.”

You scrunched over in pain, gripping a hand onto the staircase for support whilst the other went to your side. The hand that landed there felt the area to be wet, so you focused your vision and brought your fingers closer to your eyes.

Oh.

Blood.

Your fingers were covered in fresh, bright-red, blood. You looked down at your t-shirt under your jacket and noticed the now growing stain of red. 

That’s when you noticed the pain in your side increase tenfold.

“Gnnghh.”

Your legs wobbled beneath you, since you’d never been that good around blood. Funny, considering that your boyfriend came home at least once a week covered in blood from beating up some intergalactic alien or stopping the local robberies. 

You took a moment to breathe and slowly looked over the staircase bannister to see how far you had to go down, only to not even be able to clearly see the bottom. Fantastic.

You knew you had to keep going.

Clark would come looking for you eventually, but he had other important things to do too.

If you could just move it down another couple flights, then assess how you are…

Just need to stand up…

And keep….

Eyes….

Everything faded to black.

The steady sound of a beeping machine woke you up.

Your eyes peeled open in their own time, but once you were fully awake and took note of your white-walled surroundings you started to recall what happened.

You were in a hospital bed which was less uncomfortable than you would’ve thought. The bright lights in the room were a little jarring, the smell was slightly antiseptic and your body was sore but other than that everything was okay.

Tilting your head to the side you understood why your right hand felt a little extra warm.

Clark was holding onto you tight.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand rhythmically, like it was the only thing calming him.

His eyes locked straight onto yours. He looked tired and distraught. The redness of his eyes, along with the puffiness, told you he had been crying.

“Hey.” Your voice came out croaky.

“Hi.” Clark tried to smile.

“What’s with the tears?”

Clark scoffed through a laugh, turning his gaze away from yours so he could hide the fact that he was close to crying again.

“Honey…” You tried softly.

Clark shook his head, looking at the blank wall instead of you. You watched as he bit his lip, literally biting back the emotion that threatened to tip out.

“Clark, baby, breathe.”

Hearing your voice must have triggered something within him, because he hiccuped a couple of sobs out. You let him breathe and take his time. You were right there and not in any rush, so he could have as many minutes to destress as he needed.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

You looked towards the open door and there stood Clark’s parents. Seeing them was practically its own form of healing.

“Hey.”

Clark cleared his throat like he was trying to compose himself, but Martha ignored him and focused on you.

“We just went out to grab Clark sum’n to eat. He’s not eaten since he brought you here.” Martha tutted, walking around the opposite side of the bed to Clark and unpacked her plastic grocery bag.

“He’s as bad a worrier as me.” Jon added, making you smile.

Clark’s hand stayed firmly on yours, his thumb continuing to rub over your skin.

“I also brought you a smelly thing for the room,” Martha pulled out an air-freshener, “Needs a bit of… sum’n in here.”

Couldn’t argue there.

“She shopped like she thought you’d be here forever.”

You knew Jon was joking, which was why you laughed again. Clark on the other hand didn’t seem to find it funny, and instead stood up from the chair with a loud, grating, noise and walked out of the room without saying anything.

You almost wanted to apologise for his behaviour, but knew that his parents would understand.

“I’ll go talk to him.” Jon shuffled out of the room.

“Sorry.” You said.

“Hey, don’t you start apologisin’ for Clark’s behaviour.” Martha lightly scolded you.

“He means well.”

“I know he does.” Martha smiled and took her hand in yours, “My boy loves you so much. Probably more than he loves his Ma or Pa. Which is why he can’t comprehend losing you. Where would that love go if he didn’t have you? Hm? He’s scared and he doesn’t like that, because he thinks that he’s just big ol’ Superman. But when it comes to you, he’s just Clark. He’s just a boy, who loves a girl so much that it scares him”

You felt a tear run down your cheek.

“I d-don’t want him to be scared.”

“I know, but he’s gonna be. Especially when it comes to you.”

That both warmed you and your worried you.

“Thanks for being here Martha.”

“Oh, anytime, you know that.” She smiled.

Martha let go of your hand and began rummaging through her bag again. It made you happy to see her treating you like she always does and not tiptoeing around you because of your current situation.

“Did the doctors say anything?”

“Sure. They said that you were lucky that Clark found you when he did. Carried you all the way from that building to the hospital doors, he did. Well, he might’ve flown along the way.” She laughed to herself, “Doctors said you’ll be fine. Some rubble had punctured your side, but they stitched you up just fine. Might be bruised and sore for a week, but i’m sure our Clark will be there for you every single day.”

Whilst it was good to hear you were alright, your kind couldn’t but wander to Clark.

You just wanted him to come back so you could hold him and reassure him you were okay. It was obvious that he wasn’t upset with anyone but himself - no doubt beating himself up over something not even he could control.

Martha finished pulling snacks out of her bag and then informed you she was going to find a doctor.

Left alone in the room you had a moment to take life in.

Breathe.

You told yourself to just breathe.

Everything could have ended today. Everything.

No more sunrises. No more commuting to work. No more gossiping with friends. No more coming home to Clark… No more Clark.

Your breath hitched over that last thought.

Breathe.

You wiped beneath your eyes quickly when Clark walked back into the room, Jon and Martha just outside whilst they waited to catch a doctors attention.

“Hey. Are you okay?” You asked him.

Clark rounded the hospital bed and sat on it this time, rather than the chair, and leaned down carefully to kiss you.

His lips were soft and he cradled your face so carefully, but you could tell by the force of his lips on yours that he was desperate to show you that he was here - that he loved you. So, you kissed him back with just as much love.

Clark’s nose nudged against yours, his hand so gentle against the skin of your cheek.

You pushed your head back into the pillow so you could pull away slightly, needing a moment to breathe.

“I love you. So much.” He whispered, his breath touching yours.

“I know.” You smiled, leaning back up to kiss him again. This time only a short peck - your lips making a smacking noise as his lips left yours. “And I love you.”

Your vision was just Clark. His large frame completely blocked out the rest of the room and for that you were grateful.

Anytime he was the only thing in focus, was when you felt most calm and comforted.

“I’m sorry for running out.”

“It’s okay. This is a lot.” You gestured to yourself and the room.

Clark nodded, “Still. I’m sorry. I need to be here for you, I know that.”

“And you are.” You added quickly. “You always are, Clark. Just let me be there for you too.”

Clark smiled and kissed you again, turning your entire body on like it was being charged with electricity.

No one had ever made you feel like Clark.

No one ever would.

After being discharged from the hospital, Clark made sure to help you be signed off from work for a week. Thanks to Perry owning Clark time off, it meant that you could both go to Kansas for the week.

You were coming back from walking Krypto when Clark pulled up in front of his parents house.

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest.” Clark said, shutting the door of his truck behind him.

“I was,” You approached him slowly, “Until my boyfriend left me and I escaped.”

“Escaped?” Clark raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Your arms were the cage.”

“Uhuh.”

“I broke free.”

“Sure you did.” Clark nodded, quickly reaching out his arm and pulling you in closely all whilst being careful of you still.

You gasped from the sudden movement, but not from shock because when it came to Clark you were used to moves like this.

Clark leaned down to kiss you and you let him. His head tilted so he could kiss you with ease, earning a soft moan from you when his lips and hands moved just right.

“That was punishment for breaking out the house.” Clark mumbled against your lips, going in for a second and third kiss.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a punishment.” You smirked.

Clark moved away slightly, “It’s cause you’ve turned me soft.”

“Like your Pa. Big ol’ mush, as Martha says.” You teased.

“Something like that.” Clark kissed you once more and then distanced himself by a fraction of an inch, so he could assess you and your body, “Are you okay, though?”

“Yes.”

“You’d tell me otherwise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

“I feel so much better than a few days ago.” You reached both hands up to link around his neck, meaning you perched up on your tip-toes. “I think it’s your kisses. They make me feel better.”

“Oh do they?” Clark smiled.

“Mhm.”

Clark scooped you up in arms with a laughing squeal from you.

“Well, anything for my girl.”

[bnha-universe]

No One gets to Treat You like that (Bakugo)

Synopsis: Bakugo comes to visit you at work between patrols at his job, but he walks into to your boss yelling at you.

└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

Katsuki Bakugo didn’t do “casual visits.” If he showed up somewhere unannounced, it was because something had pissed him off, or because he missed you more than he’d ever say out loud. Today, it was the latter. A rare lull between patrols, sweat still clinging to his collarbone, and his jacket on but not zipped. He told himself he was just stopping by to say hi. Maybe steal a minute. Maybe make sure you were actually eating lunch instead of skipping it again.

What he didn’t expect was to hear shouting the second he pushed open the door. Your workplace wasn’t loud by nature. Even during rush hours, it hummed rather than roared. So the sound of your boss’s voice; sharp, cutting, echoing, made Katsuki’s steps slow instantly.

“…I don’t care how busy you were!” your boss snapped. “That mistake makes me look bad. Do you understand that?” Katsuki stopped just inside the doorway. You stood near the counter, shoulders tight, hands clenched at your sides like you were holding yourself together by force alone. You weren’t crying; Katsuki knew you well enough to see that you were actively refusing to, but your jaw was locked, eyes fixed on a point just over your boss’s shoulder.

“I said I’m sorry,” you replied, voice steady but quieter than it should’ve had to be. “I fixed it as soon as I noticed.”

“That’s not the point,” your boss barked. “You shouldn’t have noticed it in the first place. If you can’t handle the pressure here-” That was as far as he got.

“Hey.” Katsuki’s voice cut through the room like an explosion that didn’t need a quirk. Every head turned. Your boss stiffened. You froze. Katsuki stepped forward slowly, deliberately, boots heavy against the floor. His presence alone changed the air; dense, charged, dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with combat and everything to do with authority earned the hard way. His expression was flat, red eyes sharp and burning.  He glanced at you first. One look was all it took. The tight set of your shoulders. The way you were bracing, like you expected the next blow to land any second. Something ugly twisted in his chest. Then he looked at your boss.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Katsuki asked.

Your boss blinked. “I- excuse me, this is an employee matter-”

“You’re yelling,” Katsuki cut in, voice low and lethal. “At my partner.” The word partner landed hard. Your boss’s face paled unconsciously. You snapped your eyes toward him. “Katsuki-” He didn’t look away from your boss. Didn’t soften. Didn’t back down.

“And before you start,” he continued, stepping closer, “I don’t care what title you’ve got or how big you think your ego is. You don’t get to talk to them like that.”

Your boss scoffed nervously. “This is unprofessional. You can’t just come in here and intimidate people because you’re a hero.” Katsuki laughed. It was humorless.

“Funny,” he said. “I was thinking the same thing about you.” The temperature in the room felt like it dropped.

“You want to give feedback?” Katsuki went on. “You do it without raising your voice. You want to correct a mistake? You do it without trying to make someone feel small. You don’t threaten their job because you’re having a bad day.”

Your boss’s face flushed. “You don’t know the full situation.”

“I know enough,” Katsuki snapped. “I know they work their ass off. I know they stay late, cover shifts, fix problems that aren’t even theirs. And I know damn well they don’t deserve to be talked to like they’re disposable.” Silence stretched. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Part of you wanted to pull him back, tell him it wasn’t worth it, that you’d handle it. Another part, smaller, shakier, but very real- felt something unclench in your chest. Katsuki finally turned to you then, expression changing instantly. Still intense, but softer around the edges. Protective in a way that made your throat tighten.

“You okay?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded automatically. Then hesitated. “Yeah. I think so.” His jaw flexed. He turned back to your boss one last time.

“If they face any kind of retaliation for this,” Katsuki said calmly, “I’ll hear about it. And trust me-you don’t want that kind of attention.” He didn’t threaten. He didn’t need to.

Then he stepped back, looking back at you and nodding his head towards the door. “C’mon,” he muttered. “We’re leaving.”

“I’m still on shift-” you started, even though you were walking towards him regardless.

“You’re on break,” he said firmly, already guiding you toward the door with a gentle hand at your back. “And if you’re not, you are now.” Outside, the noise faded. The air felt cleaner. You didn’t realize how tight your chest had been until it finally loosened. You let out a shaky breath. Katsuki noticed immediately.

“Hey.” He turned to face you fully now, hands warm and solid as they settled on your arms. “Don’t do that. Don’t bottle it up.”

You swallowed. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

His eyes softened, just a little. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a big deal; he was yelling at you.” For a second, neither of you spoke. Then he pulled you into his chest, firm and grounding, chin resting against the top of your head.

“No one gets to treat you like that,” he said quietly. “Not on my watch.”

You pressed your face into his jacket, voice muffled. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted. “And I’d do it again.” A beat passed.

“You were kind of scary,” you added weakly.

He huffed. “Yeah. That’s the point.” But his arms tightened just a little, protective and sure, like he was reminding the world, and you, that you were never alone.

Not with him around.

[writeriguess]

maybe perchance a KiriBaku x fem reader where reader accidentally gets roofied?

When Heroes Save the Day

The night was bustling with energy, the bar alive with music and conversation. You’d come out to unwind, a drink in hand as you leaned back against the bar, hoping for a break from the weight of the week. You weren’t looking for anything more than a bit of fun with your friends, but that didn’t stop some unwanted attention from creeping in.

A group of guys, a bit too boisterous for their own good, had made their way over. They lingered too close, their eyes lingering on you like they were deciding whether you were worth the chase.

"Hey, pretty thing," one of them said, leaning a little too close. You could feel the stale beer on his breath as he flashed you a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. "You sure you're drinking alone? That’s a shame."

You gave him a tight smile and shook your head, keeping your tone polite but firm. "I’m good, thanks."

One of his friends, a lanky guy with a smirk that looked like it was about to slip into something dangerous, leaned in, eyes too eager. "C’mon, don’t be like that. We’re just looking to have a good time." His hand brushed against the edge of your drink, a subtle move that set your nerves on edge.

You stepped back slightly, eyes narrowing. "I’m not interested," you said, your voice cool. "So, if you’d kindly leave me alone..."

But they weren’t taking no for an answer. The first guy moved closer, his grin now widening in a way that made you feel sick. "Ah, come on. Don’t be like that. A pretty thing like you deserves better company than some guys you’re hanging with."

You could feel your stomach twist as his hand reached out, brushing your arm like a claim. It was too much. Your skin crawled at the touch.

That’s when you noticed it—the familiar burning in your throat. Something wasn’t right. The drink you’d been holding didn’t taste quite the same, the aftertaste sharp in a way it shouldn’t have been. You swallowed thickly, trying to shake the feeling, but the fog was already creeping in.

"Actually, I think I need to go," you said, your voice wobbling more than you intended. The room felt like it was tilting, your head suddenly heavy as you gripped the bar for support. The men seemed to take that as an opportunity to press closer, eyes flashing with that dangerous gleam.

"We can help you out, sweetheart," one of them said, his voice lowering. "We’ll get you out of here, make sure you’re safe."

Your instincts screamed at you to run, but your body wouldn’t listen, the world spinning and your legs weak. You could barely keep your eyes open as you felt their hands on your arms, starting to guide you toward the door.

Before you could process what was happening, a sharp voice cut through the haze. "Oi, what the hell do you think you’re doing?" Katsuki’s voice was like a slap to your senses, his tone furious. His footsteps were heavy as he stormed over, Kiri right behind him.

"Let her go," Kiri added, his tone cold but with an edge of something threatening. His hands shot out, grabbing the wrist of the man closest to you and yanking him back with ease.

The guy stumbled, eyes wide with confusion and then fear as Kiri’s grip tightened, his usual cheerful demeanor now replaced by a look that said he wasn’t to be trifled with.

Katsuki was already in the other guy’s face, his fists clenched at his sides. "Touch her again, and I’ll break your fucking face," he growled, a low, menacing promise that made the guy step back.

"She doesn’t need your help," the first man said, trying to recover, but his bravado faltered under Katsuki’s glare.

"Yeah?" Katsuki sneered, stepping closer. "You wanna test that? I’d be happy to put you in your place, asshole."

The men took one look at the two of them, and it was enough. They stumbled back, unsure of how to deal with the situation now that they were up against two heroes. The one who’d been closest to you backed off first, muttering something about not wanting trouble. The other quickly followed, the tension in the air enough to make their confidence evaporate.

Once they were out of the way, you felt Kiri’s gentle touch on your arm, steadying you as the world tilted. "Hey, hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft as he looked down at you, his concern clear.

You blinked, trying to clear the fog in your mind, but it wasn’t working. Your words felt slow, as if they weren’t quite yours. "I… I don’t… feel right," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

"Shit," Katsuki muttered, eyes narrowing as he moved in, his usual brashness replaced by worry. "What the hell did they do to you?"

"They—" you tried to focus, but your head was so heavy, your thoughts not coming together the way they should. "My drink…" you trailed off, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Kiri’s hand on your back was reassuring, but it wasn’t enough to stop the panic from setting in. "We’re getting you out of here," he said, voice steady. "Don’t worry, we’ve got you."

Katsuki’s gaze flickered over to the exit. "We need to get her home, now."

As the two of them helped you, the haze in your mind began to grow thicker, but the feeling of their hands, strong and protective, kept you grounded. Their presence was all you had to hold onto as the world around you blurred.

"Hold on, just a little longer," Katsuki grunted, his arm sliding around your waist as he helped steady you.

You wanted to tell them you were okay, but the words got lost in the fog. All you could do was trust them, your two heroes, to get you out of there.

And just like that, you weren’t alone anymore.

[something-sparklyy]

You Call, I Answer

Conrad Fisher x reader, Jeremiah Fisher x reader

Summary: After another argument with bf Jeremiah, reader is left alone at a house party where someone puts something in her drink. After Jeremiah doesn't pick up his phone, reader calls Conrad for help

WARNINGS: whump, college party, reader has something put in her drink, realistic description of being roofied, no romance (yet)

A/N: it's my first time posting so be nice! Formatting is a little whack so I apologize. I started typing and this came out idk, I think I needed it.

The silence in the back of the Uber was thick with tension. You could hear the quiet music coming from the front, with the driver tapping on his steering wheel along with the drums, but Jeremiah didn’t make a sound. It felt like he didn’t even move a muscle, sitting beside you like a statue, frozen at the end of the argument you’d had on the way out of Taylor’s apartment. Everyone else was still getting ready, but Jeremiah didn’t want to wait for them. You’d raised your voices at eachother, something you’ve started to do more often it seems, and there’s a small voice in the back of your head wondering if Conrad had heard. 

The idea used to terrify you - it still does a little - what would he think, if he knew you treated eachother this way? If he knew about the stony silences, stretched out for hours sometimes? It doesn’t feel as terrifying anymore; it feels more like an inevitability. 

The car stops, and you quietly thank the driver as you get out. The silence is cut short by the bouncing music and laughter coming from inside the party, but it’s hard to imagine going in there right now. You take a deep breath and set your face before turning to Jeremiah, trying to get your eyes to say let’s not fight anymore, please? 

“Listen”, he says, and you wonder if it worked. 

“Let’s just do our own things tonight, yeah? I never see the guys anymore and I just wanna have fun tonight.” 

Fine, be like that. 

“Ok. Uber home together later?”, you try not to sound too annoyed.  

He hesitates before saying “uh, yeah. Text me when you want to go. I don’t wanna go home early though.” 

You roll your eyes and head towards the front door, while he heads around back to where the guys are surely smoking. 

--

The next few hours fly by, catching up with the girls, nursing a cup of bright red jungle juice offered to you by a friend of Redbird’s that you haven’t met before. You play a game of flip cup, and you catch his gaze lingering more than a few times. He asks if you want to partner with him for Battleships, and you giggle uncontrollably as Redbird tries to explain the rules. You notice New Guy’s hand on your back, and you wonder, are other people noticing too? If anyone told Jeremiah….

You flash him a small smile and mutter a “be right back” as you head for the washroom, noticing your steps feel a little less steady than usual. Man, are you a lightweight now? When you get to the washroom, you see there’s a line of several people waiting, and you have to place a hand on the wall for a moment to steady yourself. There’s no way you’re this drunk off of one jungle juice. 

You take out your phone and text Jere: Hey, not feeling well, where are you? 

Your text is immediately marked as read, and you wait for the little speech bubble to show up when he starts typing, but it doesn’t. Of course. 

You wait in the bathroom line for a while, but it doesn’t feel like it’s moving at all. You remember that you don’t actually have to use the bathroom, and you almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. You didn’t even want to come here tonight, and now you haven’t seen or heard from anyone in hours. You wonder if Taylor and Steven are outside with Jere.

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears as you head back down the stairs, and you try not to look in the direction of the kitchen where the drinking games are still going on. When you quickly glance in, as you’re almost past the entryway, you see Redbird’s friend staring right at you. You speed up into the living room and scan the crowd looking for Steven or Taylor. No sign of them, and the music is so loud in here that your head hurts, and you start to feel cloudy. Maybe that last part isn’t the music. 

You call Jeremiah, and it rings over and over in your hand. You wait a moment and call again, but this time it doesn’t ring at all. The automated voice says “this number is not reachable”, followed by the dial tone, but it feels far away, like it’s underwater. Or maybe you’re dreaming it. This feels like the sort of nightmare you would wake up from at 5am, sweaty and shivering at the same time. 

Ok, think, if someone put something in your drink - who are you kidding, you know who it was - he'll probably be keeping an eye out for you now. You remember being at a party at this house once before and bringing a pile of beer-soaked towels to the laundry room, by the back door. You start to make your way across the living room towards that back hall, but your legs are starting to feel like they’re made of sand. Are you moving at all? It’s hard to tell. Suddenly, you’re walking through the arch into the back hallway, and as you look over your shoulder, you see him shouldering his way through the crowd, towards you. Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t stop moving until you make it to the other side of the laundry room door. Your hands move on their own, searching for a lock, but you can’t make sense of the doorknob at all. Your breath is ragged as you look around the room for something to block the door with, but there’s nothing. You call Jeremiah again, and you hear the dial tone again. 

The doorknob rattles, but the door does not budge - a moment of relief. You did lock it, that’s good. 

Everything feels murky, but one thought is crystal clear in your mind. You take out your phone again, and make the call before you have a chance to change your mind. He answers on the second ring. 

--

“Hello?” 

“Conrad…” 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” - his concern is already palpable, and you try not to let it shake you. 

“I’m -” you sputter, choking on nothing. 

“Can you hear me? You’re muffled.” 

“Can you come pick me up?” 

“Of course. You’re at the frat party? Where’s Jeremiah?” -  your chest pangs.

“I dunno. We got in a fight earlier.”

“I’m getting in my car. Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

“...I think there was something in my drink.” - you realize how much you have to think about each breath now. Your feet feel like they’re melting into the floor. You sit down with your back against the dryer.

There’s a pause, and you wonder if you’ve lost him for a moment. 

“Where exactly are you in the house? Are you alone?” 

“I dunno, laundry room. ‘m alone, yeah” 

“Does the door have a lock? Can you lock it?” 

“I think I did.” - it occurs to you now that you probably won’t be able to get that door unlocked for him when he gets here. The idea feels far away, like someone else is making the realization. Your eyelids suddenly feel heavy, and you fight to keep them open. 

There are more sounds coming from the phone, but you aren’t able to piece together their meaning. Conrad, probably, but the words fly around you, and you can’t seem to catch them. Your eyes flutter closed, and you think maybe it’s ok if you rest them for a moment. A buzzing sound fills your ears, and you drift to sleep. 

--

You’re awoken by the sound of the door pounding, and you half-lift your head to look at it - still closed - but you can’t seem to move your limbs at all. You remember there was something you needed to do, but it’s slipped your mind. It must be something to do with the pounding. 

You hear a voice calling your name. The wind is rushing in your ears, but his voice cuts through. You wish you could get up and find him. 

The door opens quietly, and you feel a surge of panic before you see the face of the person entering. Conrad. You can’t make out what he’s saying, but his soothing words wash over you, and you look up at his face. The emotions there are too complex to read, but it doesn’t matter. You feel his hand on your shoulder, and your eyes close again. 

--

You wake up on a couch that you immediately recognize as Conrad’s: a soft brown suede, with a scratchy wool blanket against your skin. You can see him standing in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. You hear only his side of the conversation, voice hushed. 

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.” 

“Yeah, well, I have her with me. I let her sleep for a bit, I think in the morning I'll bring her to urgent care, they'll probably do a blood test.” 

Your eyes flutter closed again.

“I don’t know, man, she was barely awake when I got there.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you. I wasn't going to go tonight, but she called and I answered. I’m not going to apologize for that.” 

A long pause.

“Look, I’m going to go check on her. I just didn’t want you to worry. I’ll update you, but only if she’s ok with that.” 

“Fine, bye."

After a moment, the couch moves as he sits on the end by your feet, and you half open your eyes, smiling softly at him. You wonder how long you slept.

Conrad's eyes meet yours and you try to read his expression. He looks tense, and a vein pulses at his temple.

"Hey." His voice comes out too sharp. For a moment you wonder if he's angry with you. He pauses, swallows, and starts again, softer, almost a whisper "Hey, what the hell happened tonight?"

[erosiism]

GENSHIN MEN AND…

prompt: HOW THEY WOULD REACT IF YOU SACRIFICED YOUR LIFE FOR THEM | part two

character(s): childe, ayato [part one is finished, it features diluc & zhongli]

warnings(s): angst ofc—mention of blood, my first post on tumblr so my writing style may be a little icky, inaccuracies since I haven’t looked up genshin lore for a hot minute 

note(s): male reader, second person, present tense, not beta read

AYATO

note(s); you are his fiance

Your marriage alliance is purely for business. Ayato knows that. He’s the head of the Yashiro Commission's Kamisato plan—he’s busy, for god’s sake. He doesn’t want to waste time or beat around the bush: if he is to marry you, the only son of the L/n clan, he will, but he doesn’t want you to expect any pleasantries. He will be cordial and polite enough, but he doesn’t have the time to butter you up. He will mind his own business, and so will you. He is not one for earthly desires. He cares far more for his clan’s prestige and for surviving to play the role of a husband.

“[Name], right?” He smiles at you. You smile back, your posture stiff and your smile fixed painfully on your face. “I’m sure we know what this marriage is intended for.”

Your skin feels tight. “I do.”

“You can go to Thoma should you have any inquiries. My sister will help you too should you need anything.”

You tilt your head. Your tone is straightforward and blunt. “And you?”

“I’ll be busy,” Ayato says politely.

“I understand.”

There: your first conversation had been completely unremarkable and bland. But Ayato had appreciated that you had been straight to the point. You had been completely no nonsense, and Ayato at least, did not feel annoyed. He has too many things on his plate to deal with trivial things like romance: too many rival clans are trying to assassinate him, too many people are trying to destroy his clan. He does his own things, you do too. Occasionally you two meet—it’s just one house, after all, and you two make polite conversation. You make for a rather amusing partner at times, you make him laugh, and with you he feels relaxed.

Sometimes he plays the tricks he plays on Thoma; but it’s almost impressive to see you stomach the strange food he feeds you. You tease him with a rather sweet straight face; in calm tones, you poke fun at him. Ayato forgets that the two of you are married, at times, but there are also the rare times that he’s almost pleased.

Months pass after your encounter. The two of you have lapsed into a routine. Ayato finds that there are times he almost looks forward to the occasions the two of you meet. He starts planning brief instances where he can see you: he starts to finish his work a little quicker so he’ll be able to see you. He lessens your workload so you won’t be tired. He buys trinkets that remind him of you. He starts to reach out to you a lot more. 

He notices you smiling more. You seem pleased, joyful, even at this. 

(“Gosh,” Ayaka tells him once, smiling sweetly. “You two do act like a married couple.”

Married. Ah. Right. Ayato has nearly forgotten.)

One day, as he’s out, he spots a gem the color of your eyes. He spends a decidedly long time looking at it, choosing it carefully, before he tucks it in your pocket. You deserve to have nice things, he thinks to himself. And so he will give it to you. His husband.

But when he returns home, he doesn’t expect to see the sight of you barely breathing, your breaths shuddering, your body limp. Thoma and Ayaka are not in sight. They must have gone out today. And you…

The gem clinks in his pocket as he runs towards you.

“[Name],” Ayato calls for your messily, the words falling over each other as they spill from his mouth, “[Name]!”

The last word is a yell. “[Name], please…who did this to you?”

“Those bastards,” you say weakly, “from…that…clan…they wanted information. They…”

“And you—”

“I didn’t give it to them, if that’s what you were worried about,” you manage to choke out. “I know how important it was to you.”

The information. Right. The scrolls. Right. Important? Perhaps months ago Ayato would have agreed. After all, that was months, almost a year of hard work. But looking at you now, Ayato begged to differ. Here you were, bleeding out, dying, because of him.

You sacrificed yourself. You sacrificed yourself for him.

“I know what this marriage was intended for,” you repeat the words he had told you when you two had first met. His husband. His beloved husband. His darling. “I’ve honored it.”

“No,” Ayato cradles you, feeling as if life escapes your body. Your body is turning cold. “No!”

It’s too late. The gem rolls out of his pocket, and Ayato despairs.

The gem is no longer the color of your beautiful eyes.

It’s bathed in red.

CHILDE

note(s); you are from fatui

There are countless deaths when it comes to Fatui. It has become disturbingly normal. And you are Tartaglia’s subordinate. The eleventh harbinger’s associate. You two hit it off, immediately: you are of similar age, and you have a little brother the same age as Teucer. Or: you had a little brother. He was torn away from you because of your poor living conditions in Snezhnaya. And that was what spurred you on to make a last ditch attempt to join the Fatui to find a purpose somehow; to riddle yourself with work so you cannot think of your brother’s death.

Childe has been nothing but sweet to you so far. You have been seeing two sides of him: the tender, gentle side to him when he talks about Teucer, when he speaks of the little letters he gets from his siblings, or on the occasions he speaks to you. And the other is more wild; more bloodthirsty—and in those instances, you can see the marks that the Abyss has left on him. That uncontrollable urge to ravage everything in sight; to leave it broken and damaged.

Today is no different. The two of you tread the snow as you walk up the mountains. Childe is laughing as he is telling you stories. You listen to him like you always do. Neither of you spot the Ruin Guards. Not even three—by some wretched curse, there are five of them, lumbering behind. And by the time their shadows loom before the two of you, it’s too late.

Childe flinches; you reach out to him in desperation before you see him shift into his Foul Legacy form. 

What rotten luck, you curse to yourself, adrenaline starting to fill in. What kind of stupid thing have we walked into?

You have seen him use it a few times—once against three Ruin Guards. He defeated them without much difficulty—but you had seen the after effects. You had seen the way he had panted for his breath; the way his face had turned pale, the way he had quivered and had grasped onto you and the Traveler for help.

He does the same. There’s still two remaining, and Childe’s still standing. But you see him clutching his head. You think of Teucer. Childe has a family to return to. You have no one. In a way, this action would be the most logical. The most understanding. It will be a sacrifice for Childe and his brother. You know the pain of losing a brother—you don’t want Teucer to go through that again.

“I think I can handle them,” you tell Childe quietly. You don’t have a vision, but you have a delusion you have yet to use. “Go. Rest.”

“[Name],” Childe warns.

“Teucer.” Is the only word you say.

Childe’s eyes widen. He bites his lip. He sees your point—you knew he would. 

“I’ll come back alive,” you promise.

“[Name],” he tries again.

“See you later.” It’s a clear dismissal. 

You push him a little to the side; Childe stumbles away. Then you quickly unleash the delusion you have kept and unsheathe your sword. Childe was the one that taught you how to use a sword—and now you recall his advice as you step to the side. The delusion has potentially lethal consequences. You know that. It’s your first time using it. You know that too. The energy thrums in your fingertips as you start to battle—the crimson lashes out between your teeth and blows start to rain on you.

You think of your brother. It was your lack of strength that caused his death—you can still remember his shouts, his screams—and even now they haunt you. You don’t waver, but your stance and your attacks become sloppy. Useless, you think harshly, useless! I can’t even—

The delusion unleashes more power in your desperation. The ruin guards start to sway and fall. You continue, but now blood is bursting from every crevice, every corner: wounds open, flesh tears away, and your mouth overflows with blood. The ventricles of your heart seem to be pulsing dangerously—the delusion is ripping away your mortality in return for its power. You continue. Your eyes start to tear—

Thuds tell you of the defeat of the guards. You slump in relief. Your feet carried you to Childe, who has collapsed on the ground.

“Childe,” you call weakly. “I…”

The words don’t leave your throat. Your broken stance is not the one that jolts him from his consciousness, but it is the splutter of blood and the horrid gargle your throat make when you start to retch out blood that horrifies him.

“[Name]!” He yells, “[Name]!”

“Let me close my eyes,” you plead. “I’m so tired.”

“No. Let’s—let’s get you to—”

“Please,” you start to beg him. “I think…”

Childe knows better. You will die if you close your eyes. He has to get you help—he can’t let you die. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

He has loved you. He loves you. He adores you.

“You promised me,” Childe starts to whisper brokenly, “you promised me, [Name]. You said you'd come back alive. You said you will…”

The promise is shattered when your head slips from his grasp.

Your first and last promise to him, broken.

comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated

[11rosebunny]

Hello! I absolutely love your bofurin posts so much they give me so much joy!! I was wondering if you could write bofurin boys reacting to their partners getting hurt (either by accident ir gettign caught up in a fight) tyyy!!

When you get hurt (BOFURIN + JO TOGAME)

I’m so sorry if you wanted either Mitsuki or Taiga in this, I didn’t add them to this but if you want me to include them please lmk in the requests!

-Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Toma Hiragi, Hayato Suo, Jo Togame

Haruka Sakura

When you come to him all scratched up when he's simply relaxing, it was the least thing he expected from you.

He notices right away based on the scrapes all over your body. Not deep enough to leave a scar but prominent enough for anyone to notice the significant bruises. He almost just stares at you in disbelief for a few seconds with wide eyes before raising his voice a little louder than he meant to.

"What the hell happened to you?!"

He's panicked when dragging you towards him and tries to interview you on what happened. He's a bit confused on what to do next, he's only ever been used to him getting hurt and not anyone around him. After asking you what happened he sort of shims away to get some bandages and a wet cloth to wipe your wounds.

He's calmed down by then when he returns back to you and continues on to help clean your wounds. He did that out of habit due to the fact he's grown up healing his own wounds when you questioned what he was doing.

"Why're you holding, bandages...?"

"...Because I'm gonna clean your wounds, dumbass."

"So rude..."

Hajime Umemiya

He is set off. If it was just an accident, then he doesn't make it a big deal. However, if it was intentional, he's beyond annoyed.

In the past, he's learned how to keep his cool whenever he was disrespected. Even during that instance when Tomiyama had beaten down students from Bofurin, he still managed to stay calm. However, only then things will change when he learns that someone close to him was inflicted with pain such as; Kotoha and you.

It's one of the few times where he lets his morals go. He's aware he's capable of beating the person that hurt you into a bloody pulp but even so, he knows how to restrict himself. It ticks him off to see you hurt so once the conflict is done, he's quiet.

He's still fairly pissed and drags you to come with him back to his house or somewhere secluded where he could heal your wounds himself. He doesn't care if he is also hurt or even a much more worse condition than you are.

Fight him all you want, argue even. The whole entire time, he'll stay silent in an angry mood, mad at himself that he let you get hurt. Once he's done healing you, he won't even allow you to heal him back, he cares more about your well being than his in those moments.

Toma Hiragi

Seeing you beat down and crying, this is one of the very few times he lets himself go vulnerable.

He hates it whenever he sees you depressed. So if he witnesses you getting hurt, it feels like a whole chunk of his body is cut off. Immediately, he tries to quicken up the conflict so it would be over and then check up on you right away. In the moment, he's pissed at you—telling you to back off and rest somewhere for the time being. He'll yell out to you louder than ever before with pure anger in his eyes that could make your blood run cold in just a single second.

Once the conflict is done, he goes back to you as if he's angry at you for getting hurt. He refrains himself from speaking, otherwise if he did he knows he would snap at anything you said—so instead, he quietly patches you up and practically ignores you at whatever you're saying.

He's worried and never wants to see that happen to you again.

Hayato Suo

It's shocking, the moment he sees anyone lay his hands on you, that's when his usual atmosphere changes into something very few people witness from him.

Generally, he comes as a sympathetic, chaotic person. It's something he's built in his charisma for years and enjoys it even (the small teasing and outrageous opinions). So he's kept that level of himself to be the same in almost every single scenario, but once he sees the state you're in, it's different.

He has a hard time taking in what happened, not that he can't process it, but as to why it happened. Once you explain everything to him, he won't say anything to trigger you anymore before gentle healing your wounds. He doesn't want to stress you out and have to make you recall of the horrid situation you got into earlier. 

Afterwards, he'll disappear for a day, no calls, texts, or any sights of where he was.

The next day he comes back you as if nothing happened but once you question about is whereabouts, he tells you,

"Sorry [Name], I was busy having a conference with those people from yesterday." He says smiling warmly before changing the bandage on your face. You had a feeling he did not in fact have a conference with those people.

Jo Togame

He's usually outside a lot, shockingly it's very rare for him to even respond to any of your texts so no he doesn't see your message when you're pleading out to him that you got hurt by someone else.

It takes him a while to even know of your circumstances until he comes pick you up from school and realizes you're taking a bit long while he waits outside for you near the gate. He grows impatient and for the first time and finally checks his phone to see if you said anything. From there, his eyes widen. 

In a flash, he asks around if anyone has seen you and a person finally answers him after asking nearly 10 people.

"Ah, [Last Name]? I saw her walk to the water fountains behind the school." 

In a quicker pace than he usually sets himself in, he walks to where the person told him your last whereabouts, and then, he sees you. 

Using the water to clean up the bloodied stains on your shirt. 

You don't hear his hurried footsteps that come towards you, in your head you honestly thought it was a friend or a teacher that saw the state you were in. You didn't turn around and continued your cleaning, too angry and full of resent. 

What you weren't expecting was the person to place both hands on your shoulders and turn you to face forward.

"Why the hell are you all beaten up?" He says staring deep into your eyes. It's the first time you've ever seen him this jolted rather than his laidback behaviour. He's frantic, worried, and more importantly, angry. 

It takes you a while to get used to his outward personality, you even stutter when telling him what happened as you both settled down in front of a connivence store while you held a cold drink of Ramune on your cheek. He doesn't say much or react but there is a slightest hint of wrath in the way he licks his canine tooth. 

He then gets up without saying a word before placing his hand on the top of your head and ruffling it up with a remorseful smile. 

"You stay here, I'm gonna go get Chouji, alright?"

You nod already knowing what the duo is going to do.

[shee-im-bi]

Umemiya Hajime x reader

*all characters are aged up. this plot hold place years after the original plot*

angst, mention of violence, not proof read

"who was it?" he muttered, his sense of urgency ringoing out to you as he closed the door you'd once opened - forcing you back into the apartment.

He halted upon the sight of your injuries, eyes narrowing as his pupils roamed you up and down , assessing the sloppy bandages you hadn't tied propa of keeping the situation hidden from him. He was quick to find the bruises under your shirt, his fingers latched around around the hem as he sighed upon your condition. He scowled at you once you locked eyes.

Umemiya knew the exact reason as to why you hadnt bothered to tell him first. He hated that. You were his girlfriend- yet, you always seemed to prioritise Bofurin's duty to the town which led you to think that you' only bother him if you were the only person in danger.

"I'm your boyfriend, god damnit." His gaze subtly softened as he pulled you towards him. "Don't just hide this from me."

He paused. wanting to regain his composure - swiftly kissing you in the process, hoping it would take your mind off the pain briefly.

"How can I protect you when you can't even tell me this?" He mutters to you, breaking the kiss. "This doesn't concert the town of Bofurin, it's between you and me. Tell me who it is."

You lowered your head and shook it slowly, unable to look him in the eyes "I- I'll only be a bother, Ume.." you said softly, voice arely above a whisper.

He was quick to react as you refused to meet his gaze, holding your chin between his index and thumb, lifting your head forcing you to look at him, his frown only deepening as your voice was barley audible.

He was trying to be patient with you - but his blood was boiling, the sight of your wounds causing him great distress.

"No" he spoke between gritted teeth "You're never a bother to me. You're my girlfriend."

Your breath got caught on my throat and you averted your eyes looking everywhere but his "B-but you'll be busy from you duties at Bofurin and I don't want to do that.." you said, taking a step back slightly from him, hands intertwined together and eyes shaking nervously, the earlier events and pain starting to get to you.

"Stop it." his stern voice called out, as he pushed you against the wall, preventing you from taking another step back from him.

If you new there was anythung that would trigger the side of Umemiya he only showed you - it was being stubborn and refusing to open up to him about your worries.

Both his arms pressed against the wall on either side of you, traping you between him and the wall to prevent you from running away.

"Do you really think I prioritize my duties over you?" He asked, voice stern yet so soft as to not add on your distress.

you shook your head slightly "n-no..." you said softly, eyes finally finding his and breath getting stuck in my throat when I do so "but you'll end up injured .. and I don't like seeing you injured and full of scars" you said, voice soft "and you might get stabbed too.." I whisper the last sentence

He felt his breath hitch on his throat as you finally looked yup at him, his eyes darkening as they noticed the slight look of fear in your eyes.

He paused at your words, listening to your concerns - and he could feel some of his anger wash away as he realized the real reason you hadn't told him.

"Do you know how much it pisses me off when you look like that?" His right hand moved from the wall to cup your cheek in his palm

"When you have that look in your eyes like you're worried about me...?"

"But I am!" you retorted back, voice quivering but stil raising a few notes "I am worried about you. Do you know ho w=hard it is to patch you up and act like veerything was okay whnen it wasn't? Do you know how much my heart aches when I try to pat some alcohol into your cut just for you to wince from the pain? It hurts so much seeing you in that state, Ume. I don't want to see you in that state anymore." you rambled, blinking in hopes for tears that are threatening to escape your eyes to go back inside only for them to fall out.

"But if you want to know who did this, it's the stupid new gang that's down the shopping street."You confessed after moments of silence, Hand gripping into your arm in hopes of grounding yourself and not break down.

"And if you're going to them, make sure to come back uninjured..." you said, voice calming down and eyes finding his softening ones.

His heart ached as you confessed everything, the tears in your eyes causing his hands to clench. He felt a pang of guilt as you mentioned tending to his injuries, the mental image of you forcing a smile on your face as you helped patching him up causing the pit in his stomach to grow.

He was never good at handling tears. Especially from you.

Moments of silence pass by until you decided to break the silence "you can go after them if you want" You sighed and dropped your head, indicating that he could go after them

He knew that tone. There was no denying you were holding yourself back from telling him to stay - but he knew you didn't want to seem selfish and overprotective, even though you're the victim here.

"Hey..." he calls out softly as he leans forward slightly, his forehead resting against yours an an effort to get you to look at him.

He knew what you were doing.

"Look at me." he said in a low voice only for you to hear in this empty apartment.

You stayed silent for a few more second making him frown as you ignored his request. H e knew what you were thinking, that you would cry if you lookmed at him and that he would feel bad.

And yet, he didn't care.

He wanted you to cry. H e wanted you to rely on him. If that meant you needed to be tearful to do so, then so be it.

His voice was stern and unwavering as he spoke "You're too stubborn for your own good" he sighed, head still leaning on yours

You clenched your jaw, holding back an upcoming sob "I... I think I'm..." then sighed, unable to form a sentence at the moment, but Umemiya stayed silent, waiting for you to gather yourself

You took a deep breath and spoke up "I... just want to hold you right now.. can I?" you finaly said after long seconds od silence, Looking up to meet waiting his grey eyes.

There they were. Your eyes.

He felt like he could finally let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding.

His heart skipped a beat upon seeing your vulnerable state. "Of course..." He murmured, his arms moving to pull you against him.

Upon feeling the contact with his body, you finally broke down, sobs and wails echoing throughout the apartment. The whole events of that day falling on your mind, the pain from the bruises and cuts you got that morning dawning in on you and pain invading your system.

It was as if your brain was finally able to realize what has happened to your body.

"I'm sorry.." was all you could manage to get out between your cries "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." you said, fists clenching his white shirt and tears staining it.

He held you with a firm grip, feeling you finally letting go of your pent up emotions, the sounds of you deep sobs breaking his heart into pieces.

"Don't apologize.." he muttered against your ear - his voice gentle yet firm as an attempt to sooth you. He began to pat your head gently, trying to calm you down.

"Don't apologize - you didn't do anything wrong..." he whispered, kissing your hair.

After a while of sobs and consolation, you decided to speak up "I..." you paused for a second "I want you to go teach those idiots a lesson" you said, voice small yet audible

Umemiya paused upon hearing your request and you didn't have to tell him twice to be out of the door.

[dreamywriter143]

Windbreaker x Reader Multi-Character Imagine

Prompt: Their reactions when Y/n jumps into a fight to protect them, despite not being a fighter.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of violence.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

Umemiya

Umemiya freezes the moment you step in front of him. Rage and fear clash in his eyes-how dare someone so important to him risk themselves? He almost feels his knees go weak, his own life flashes before his eyes as he gets in the fray just in time to protect the key to his soul. 

“Y/n-what the hell are you thinking?! You can’t just throw yourself into this!”

Umemiya makes quick work of the opponent, turning to couch down your level seeing how your own legs give out. His voice softens as he reaches out to cup your cheeks  “If you get hurt… I’d…I’d never forgive myself. Stay behind me, always.”

He’s shaken, but decisive; every strike after is precise, meant to end the fight fast so he can make sure you’re safe.

Endo

Endo’s grin stretches unnervingly when you intervene. Part of him thinks you’re adorable, part of him is dangerously possessive. He steps in before the hit even touches a single strand of hair on you, no one touches what's his. No one. His teasing tone hides how panicked he really is.

“Well, well, look who’s trying to be my hero… you’re cute when you’re reckless, you know that?”

Endo teases as if taking pleasure in the fact you almost took a hit for him “You get hurt, and I’ll-hmm… let’s just say I won’t be letting anyone else near you again. Understand?”

He laughs, but it’s sharp, almost dangerous. His worry comes out in teasing threats that make your skin crawl-in a good way.

Takiishi

Takiishi doesn’t yell. He doesn’t panic. He simply freezes for a heartbeat, dark eyes narrowing at the audacity of your move. His silence is heavier than any shout-full of implied threat for anyone who dares harm you. He moves like a storm, the sheer aura around him makes the opponent falter.

“Y/n… you’re not supposed to be here.” he says in a low and controlled tone of slight anger. 

In a swift move he moves you behind him, taking the hit by grabbing the punch. “Do that again… and I won’t just scold you.” He threatened softly.

His menace isn’t loud-it’s in every glare, every measured movement. You can feel his protective instinct like a shadow, suffocating anyone who tries to threaten you.

[miraeofficial]

hello a request please, the boys of bofurin x reader, how do you react if you discover that another gang is bullying your partner? greetings from Guatemala

🤔🤔🤔🤔☺️

YOU MESS WITH MY BABY, YOU MESS WITH ME!

summary: the more you hide the ugly secret from your partner, the more they are persistent to know the truth, even if it's something they're not prepared of.

pairing: sakura haruka, suo hayato, and umemiya hajime (the reader is included)

genre: tw: bullying, threats, mentions of bruises (please don't force to read it if uncomfortable ><) reassurances from our bofurin boiss, scary but protective boyfriends >< (especially sakura)

SAKURA HARUKA

Hiding this awful secret from Sakura was harder than you ever thought it would be. He was sharp, observant, and always seemed to notice the slightest shifts in your mood or demeanor. The way his piercing gaze lingered on you whenever you came up with an excuse was a constant reminder of how impossible it was to truly fool him. But you had to try.

You told yourself you didn’t want to burden him. Sakura had his own struggles—years of fighting and surviving had left their scars, even if he rarely spoke about them. Adding your pain to his pile felt unfair, selfish even. So, you smiled through the pain, hoping he wouldn’t press too hard.

It started when a group of low-life thugs began targeting you. At first, it was subtle: snide comments, a shove in the hallway, or intentionally blocking your path. You tried to ignore it, but their behavior escalated as soon as they found out who you were dating.

“Dating a fighter, huh? What’s it like being with someone who’s always getting his hands dirty?” their leader sneered one day. The group laughed, crowding closer, their presence suffocating. Then came the threats: “Keep your mouth shut about this, or we’ll show your boyfriend what happens when he messes with the wrong people.”

The thought of Sakura getting hurt because of you terrified you more than anything they could do. As strong as he was, the idea of him fighting on your behalf made you feel guilty. You didn’t want to be the cause of another scar on his already battered body. So, you endured it silently, hiding the bruises and swallowing the pain.

But Sakura wasn’t someone you could easily deceive. One evening, he caught you wincing as his fingers brushed over your arm. His eyes immediately sharpened, locking onto the faint bruise peeking out from under your sleeve.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice calm but underpinned with concern.

You froze, quickly pulling your sleeves down. “Nothing. I just—bumped into something earlier,” you lied, forcing a smile.

But Sakura wasn’t buying it. His gaze bore into you, unyielding. “You’ve been off lately,” he said, his tone firmer now. “What’s going on?”

You tried to deflect, to laugh it off, but his persistence cracked your resolve. The truth tumbled out in shaky, broken pieces—about the group of bullies, their threats, and how you’d tried to handle it alone.

Sakura went deathly still, his face unreadable. But his eyes… they burned with a quiet, deadly fury.

“Where are they?” he asked, his voice chillingly calm.

Your stomach twisted in fear—not for yourself, but for him. “Baby, no,” you pleaded, grabbing his arm. “It’s not worth it. Don’t go looking for them. Please, I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

He turned to you, his expression softening just enough to show his concern, but his resolve didn’t waver. He reached out, gently patting your head. “Wait here,” he said quietly, his touch a stark contrast to the storm brewing behind his eyes.

Before you could stop him, he was out the door. The minutes that followed felt like an eternity, every second stretching unbearably as you paced the room, fear gnawing at your insides.

When he finally returned, your breath hitched. His knuckles were bloodied, his shirt stained with crimson, and he looked utterly exhausted.

“Haruka!” you exclaimed, rushing to him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

But before you could fuss over him further, he gently but firmly cut you off. “Sit down,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

You obeyed, your heart racing as he sat across from you. His gaze was intense, and for the first time, you saw the raw vulnerability beneath his usual stoic demeanor.

“You have to tell me these things,” he began, his tone firm but laced with worry. “Do you know how much it kills me to see you hurt and not know why? Do you think I’d ever want you to go through something like this alone?”

Tears welled in your eyes as guilt clawed at your chest. “I… I didn’t want to burden you,” you admitted in a trembling voice. “You’ve been through so much already, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer, wrapping his arms around you. His head rested in the crook of your neck as he murmured, “I don’t want you to experience the same fate I did. Please… tell me next time. I need to know. I’ll always protect you.”

That was the breaking point. The dam holding back your emotions shattered, and you sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him as apologies spilled from your lips.

Sakura held you tighter, one hand gently rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

At that moment, the weight of your secret lifted, replaced by the comforting strength of his embrace. With Sakura by your side, you knew you didn’t have to face your struggles alone ever again.

SUO HAYATO

Suo Hayato prided himself on his ability to read people. It was a skill honed through years of martial arts training and observing human behavior, and one he wielded with masterful precision. So when he noticed the subtle changes in you—hesitant glances, strained laughter, and the way you avoided certain places—he knew something was wrong.

At first, he didn’t push. Suo believed in patience. Like a game of shogi, the best moves require careful planning and understanding of the situation. But as the days stretched into weeks, his concern grew. The final straw came when he saw faint bruises on your wrist, poorly concealed under long sleeves.

That evening, Suo invited you to one of his favorite quiet spots in the city, a serene park with cherry blossoms in full bloom. The air was cool, the atmosphere peaceful, and the two of you sat on a bench overlooking a small Koi pond.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately,” Suo began, his voice calm and soothing. “Is something on your mind?”

You looked up at him, startled by the sudden question. “Oh, no, I’m fine! Just… tired, I guess.”

Suo’s smile didn’t waver, but an intensity in his eyes made your heart race. “You know, you’re not very good at lying. Or maybe I’m just too good at reading people.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gently held up a hand, signaling you to stop. “Before you deny it, let me say this: I’ve noticed the way you’ve been acting—the hesitation, the avoidance, and those bruises on your wrist. Darling, I’m not upset with you, but I am concerned. Who’s been bothering you?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked away, ashamed. “Hayato, it’s… it’s nothing. Just some people being mean. I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

He leaned closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. “Nothing? Mean? Those are words people use to downplay something serious. You’re not a bother to me, and you’ll never be. Please, tell me the truth.”

His voice was so tender, so full of concern, that you couldn’t hold back anymore. You told him everything—the taunts, the subtle physical harassment, and the constant fear that had been eating away at you. The more you spoke, the more his expression changed. The ever-present smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look you had never seen before.

When you finished, Suo sat back, his fingers steepled as he processed what you’d said. “Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “I know that wasn’t easy. But now that I know, I can’t just sit by and do nothing.”

“My love, please,” you pleaded, grabbing his hand. “Don’t do anything rash. I don’t want things to get worse.”

His smile returned, though it was sharper this time. “Rash? Me? Never. I’ll handle this the same way I handle everything else—with poise and precision. Trust me, darling, I won’t even need to lift a finger.”

True to his word, Suo didn’t resort to violence. Instead, he approached the situation with his signature tact and charm. The next day, he sought out the bullies, catching them off guard with his calm demeanor. He struck up a conversation, subtly steering it until he had them spilling their secrets and admitting their guilt. By the time he was finished, they were practically begging for forgiveness.

Later that evening, Suo returned to you, his smile as warm and reassuring as ever. “It’s taken care of,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “No one will bother you again. And if they do, you come straight to me. Understand?”

You nodded, tears of relief streaming down your face as you hugged him tightly. For the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

If there was one thing Umemiya Hajime valued above all else, it was family—and to him, family wasn’t just about blood. It was about the bonds you shared, the people you cared for, and the community you built. So when he started noticing changes in you, his partner, it didn’t take long for his protective instincts to kick in.

At first, he tried to be patient. He told himself that you were probably just stressed or tired, but the signs were too glaring to ignore. The way you avoided his rooftop hangouts, the forced smile you gave when he asked if you were okay, and the faint bruises you tried to hide under long sleeves—it all painted a picture he didn’t want to believe.

One day, after school, he found you sitting alone in the library, your shoulders hunched and your eyes fixed on the table. He approached you with his usual cheerful energy, pulling up a chair beside you.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he said, his tone light but laced with concern. “What’s up? You’ve been kind of distant lately. Did I do something to upset you?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, of course not! I’ve just been… busy.”

“Busy, huh?” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. “Funny, because you’ve been avoiding the rooftop too. And I noticed those bruises on your wrist. Care to explain?”

Your heart sank. You knew Umemiya was perceptive, but you hadn’t expected him to confront you so directly. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “Nothing doesn’t leave marks like these. Come on, [Y/N], you can tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally broke down, telling him everything—the bullying, the fear, and the guilt you felt for not telling him sooner. As you spoke, Umemiya’s cheerful expression faded, replaced by a rare seriousness.

When you finished, he let out a long sigh, his grip on your hand tightening. “First of all, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, and you’ve got the entire Furin family. Second, those bullies? They’ve messed with the wrong person.”

“No, Hajime, please,” you begged. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

“Trouble?” He chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “Trouble is my middle name. But seriously, I’m not just going to sit back and let this slide. Those jerks need to learn that messing with someone from Makochi is a big mistake.”

The next day, Umemiya rallied his friends and the students of Furin High, spreading the word about what had been happening. His charisma and leadership skills shone as he organized a meeting with the bullies, confronting them in front of the entire school.

“You’ve got two options,” he told them, his usual lighthearted tone replaced by a steely edge. “Apologize and never bother [Y/N] again, or deal with me and everyone else here. Your call.”

The bullies, intimidated by the sheer number of people standing behind Umemiya, quickly apologized, promising to leave you alone.

Later, Umemiya found you in the garden, holding out a small potted plant with a grin. “Here,” he said, placing it in your hands. “Something to brighten your day. And remember, you’re part of my family now. No one messes with family.”

You smiled through your tears, hugging him tightly. With Umemiya by your side, you knew you were safe.

[kajibunny]

Hiii! I saw that ur requests are open so may I request an Umemiya x f!reader where Umemiya saves her from a gang that tried to invade the town, maybe she has a few cuts and bruises cause the gang already yk hit her and stuff then when Ume saved her he removed his uniform coat thing and puts it around her and carried her princess style to a safe area (maybe his house or her house or anywhere safe is fine)

Sorry if this is too specific… I’ve been so hooked to Wind Breaker that I read the manga too… and if you can’t tell my fave character is Umemiya🥹🥰 he’s just a sweetheart too😭

₊˚ʚ 🌱 his little one (hajime umemiya x reader)✧ﾟ🌿

✿ contains: fluff, comfort, soft and loving ume having the biggest crush on you, angry feral ume when see saw you got hurt - this man can do both lol ✿ a/n: aaaa umemiya is such a sweetie! i totally get why you love him, and the way he'd show you his love for you would be through protecting you with his life! i put my own little twist on it~ hope that's fine with you, cutie (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝* have fun reading, thank you for this lovely request! ✿ wc: 850

you were hajime umemiya's beloved little plant shop darling, his favorite part of the town. he frequented your store whenever he needed new and fresh seeds, a chat and exchange of plant care tips here and there, and of course because he wanted to see you. 

umemiya fell in love with you at first sight, and he'd been courting you for a while now. how could he not, you were just the kindest and sweetest little dewdrop that ever existed. he swore he would do anything and everything in his power to keep you safe. 

"little one, look what i brought! i hope you're not allergic to flowe-" he pauses in his tracks, horrified to see your beloved plant store messy and ruined, plants and soil strewn everywhere, with scattered broken pieces of glass.

umemiya was fuming with anger. his smile quickly disappeared as he hurriedly went to find you. 

there you were, sitting helplessly on the ground, sobbing. it shattered his heart into a million pieces to see you this way. "what happened?" speaking to you in a soft voice, he caressed your cheek with his fingers, wiping away the strewn tears on your face with his thumb. "who did this to you, little one?" he inspected the cuts and bruises from your arm when you tried to defend yourself and your plants from being destroyed, but to no avail. 

the culprit was a street gang, one that attempted to cause war with furin. they heard from their sources that you were umemiya's special little seedling, one of the most important people in the world to him, and so they infiltrated the town to mess with him, messing with you being a part of their nasty plan.

little did they know, that was the biggest mistake of their lives. 

umemiya had his speculations and saw some men running away, looking like they were attempting escape. he sprinted towards them in lightning speed, his feral instinct to protect you overtaking him, repeatedly hitting and stepping on the guys, bashing their skulls in with his knee. 

"do you have any idea how much care and effort she puts into taking care of her shop and her plants?! you destroyed her dream." umemiya showed no signs of stopping, fists clashing against the guy's face. "what are you going to do about it now, huh? you made her cry, her beautiful smile is gone!" umemiya had never lost his composure like this. the thought of you getting hurt ruined him. he couldn't bear it. 

luckily, hiragi and his team came running to umemiya, stopping him from possibly killing the gang members, and told him they'll take it from there, and that he should go check on you. 

umemiya rushes back to your store and cradles you in his arms, comforting you and telling you that everything was going to be okay. you sobbed as he held you, umemiya taking off his furin coat and putting it around your shoulders. "i'm sorry, little one. i'm sorry that i couldn't protect what's important to you...but i'm glad i could at least protect what's important to me." he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

"ume...did you get hurt anywhere?" you looked up at him with puppy eyes, it worried you to see that his knuckles were all scratched up from defending your honor. 

"no worries! i'm fine, but you must be so scared, little one. there, there." he smoothens your hair with his hand and embraces you. "i'll come everyday and help you revive the shop, okay? i'm here now. i won't let anything bad happen to you anymore." he says to you. 

"come now, let's get your wounds treated." umemiya scoops you up in his arms, as if you were as light as a feather. "speaking of treat...how about i also treat you to the world's most delicious omurice? maybe it'll put back that smile on your face." you nodded in agreement, umemiya carrying you all the way to pothos elicited some giggles and whistles from onlookers around the town who thought that you two were the cutest. umemiya was definitely not afraid to show everyone his affection for you, and your eyes were only on him too, your knight in shining armor.

and that's how you and umemiya found love amidst the chaos.   

ꕤ bonus ꕤ

"oh, by the way, they're a little squished but, here!" he hands you the forgotten flowers, as you let out a giggle. he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, thinking to himself for the millionth time how beautiful your smile is. "i hope you like it, little one!"

"ume, i've been meaning to ask...why do you call me 'little one'?" you inquired, placing the flowers on your lap gently, while you took a spoonful of omurice that you shared with umemiya at the pothos café, you two looking like little lovebirds only sharing one plate of food. 

"hmm, because you're so little compared to me, and you're my one and only." he smiled happily as your cheeks slowly turned as red as his tomato plant.

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[miyukisu]

No Matter What .ᐟ

❤︎ | If Umemiya Hajime promises you something—best believe he's keeping it (1.3k wc) ╰ feat. umemiya hajime (winbre) x afab! reader

tags - reader gets hurt, mentions of violence and injuries, angst to comfort, fluff, happy ending, caring ume, friends to lovers -ish, no y/n

a/n - this was a request on my other blog

MEGA MASTERLIST

"If you need help—no matter what it is—just call me and I'll be there."

Those were the words that Umemiya Hajime told you the first time you met him. And maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he only told you that because you were Kotoha's friend. Sure, he was the head of Furin and Furin's supposed to save the people of this town—but that doesn't mean that Ume would always be at your beck and call.

It doesn't necessarily mean that he'll be there for you no matter what.

Because you were just that—Kotoha's friend. You weren't anyone important that the top dog of Furin would come in and rescue you. But, God, you wished that you were.

You let those sweet words float by you at first, but now it was the only thing you were holding on to. That and your dwindling hope.

How did it come to this? Why did they have to come to the cafe at exactly the time that you were alone? Why did Kotoha leave you alone? Not that you blame her... but you do blame whoever these people are—for being so weak that they would hold a grudge against Furin, going as far as torturing the people that mattered to their leader rather than aiming for him themselves.

They were after Kotoha; that much you were sure of. Though, they figured, you could also be someone important to Umemiya Hajime. So they beat you up for safe measure. Perhaps a consolation that they couldn't get their true target.

You could only watch as they continued to trash the place, trying to send a message to Furin that they were dead serious about this feud—a feud that you unfortunately got tangled up in.

With your back facing the door, you were a witness to their wickedness. As much as you wanted to shout or flee for your life, you were frozen in place. Softly, you could only whisper his name—a futile prayer on deaf ears.

But Ume had a knack for turning bleak situations upside down. Too absorbed in fear, you failed to notice an intense presence make its way into the cafe. A newfound weight was put on your shoulders, a coat which you instinctively held on to. It radiated a masculine smell and it comforted you because it smelled exactly like him.

"Can you make do with my jacket for now? Just gotta deal with these guys first," he says, turning to look back at you with a reassuring smile.

Dumbfounded, you simply nodded at him, allowing him what he does best: saving the people he cares about. He effortlessly plowed his way through his opponents. His face showed no emotion, punch after punch. Part of you could tell that he was holding back; he could do even worse to them than this.

When all was said and done, Ume gave them a warning—more so a threat to be honest. The men almost crawled their way out of the place. Only then did you see a speck of emotion on Ume's face.

He was seething. The aftermath of the gang's actions made his blood boil. And to think what could have happened if Kotoha were there...

But most of all—and the reality is—you were the one that got hurt. You were no Kotoha, but Ume cared about you all the same. He was that type of guy after all.

Once he had calmed down, he knelt down in front of you. HIs face relaxed a bit, hoping it could calm you down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. I really am."

You quickly shook your head, still holding on to the jacket he perched on your shoulders a few minutes ago. "No... please don't apologize. I'm just glad that you came at all."

Ume's expression softened, feeling bad that someone like you had to go through such a traumatic experience. He wanted to tuck the lock of hair behind your ear and to cup your cheek at that moment, but decided against it. There were more pressing issues than giving into his impulses at the moment—like getting you to safety for instance.

That's how you found yourself being carried on his back. You insisted that you could walk, but he was as stubborn as you.

"Are you sure the cafe will be alright?"

"Of course! The other guys should be there with Kotoha now—cleaning around and stuff," he says.

"What about you though?"

"Me?"

"Don't you want to be there with Kotoha? I'm sure the other guys would have been able to help me..."

He lets out a short chuckle. "You want someone else to help you? What's wrong with me?"

"What? I didn't mean it like that. You know what I'm talking about so—"

A smile graces his face, glad to be so quick-witted. "Then just get comfortable behind there and let me bring you home."

Not that he could see your face, but you hid your flustered face behind his shoulder anyway.

────────────

Ume carried you all the way inside your house and at this point you've learned that it was fruitless to refuse his kindness. He gently places you down on the sofa before facing you with his usual positive expression.

"Alright. You got a first aid kit somewhere?" he asked with his hands on his hips, looking around as if he'd find it in plain sight.

"It should be in the bottom cabinet in the bathroom... um, first door to your right when you go up the stairs," you sheepishly respond.

He nods. "Got it. I'll be back."

Sure that he was gone, you let out the breath you've been holding for a while. You were glad that no one else was home. Otherwise, you'd have to deal with explaining as well.

And... maybe it would be nice to be alone with Ume even for just a while.

You see him come down the stairs and jog towards the hall leading to the kitchen. The fridge opens and closes, and you wonder what he's up to. Although, soon as he comes back with the kit and ice pack in hand—you understood the quick kitchen detour.

"Got some ice from the fridge. Here," he says, handing the pack to you. "Your knee looks pretty swollen. You'll need that."

You softly thank him for his thoughtfulness and he kneels down in front of you once more. He raises his hands, "You okay with a bit of touching?" preempting you to his care.

"Yeah... though it's a bit embarrassing that you have to tend to my wounds when I can do it myself."

He already had a cotton ball with antiseptic. One hand holding your leg up with the other dabbing the medicine on your cuts, he smiled thoughtlessly to himself.

"Wouldn't let a lady tend to her wounds herself, would I?"

"Knowing you... I guess you wouldn't."

He looks up at you with a grin. "Besides, I told you I'd always be there for you. Even after we get you all patched up and ready to go to the pastry shop downtown to get a sweet treat to lift your mood—I'll still be there. Someone's gotta carry you, right?"

You didn't think it was possible for you to smile, let alone laugh, after that incident. But here you were, giggling while Ume cared for your wounds.

"We're going to the pastry shop after this?"

"You bet."

It was this day that you learned: Umemiya Hajime keeps his promises no matter what.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I used to post a lot of WinBre on my main blog, like 40% of it used to be WinBre. But this is my first fic about it on this blog. Hope I still ate.