Hi, Again :"D I Know I Bother You A Lot But Could I Send One More Ask... You Recently Did "Hashira Reacting

Hi, again :"D I know I bother you a lot but could I send one more ask... You recently did "Hashira reacting to your affection" and I absolutely loved it and was curious, could you do a "Muzan/UpperMoons reacting to your affection"? Okay, I'll stop bugging you now. (One more thing, please continue writing. I love your posts and look forward to every single one :D)

Upper moons + Muzan’s reaction to your affections

How will your demon s/o reaction to your affections?

Pairing: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x fem!reader

Typs of affection include: Kisses, hugs and cuddles, affectionate nibbling/biting, compliments

(Mentioning of Douma wanting to crawl into your body for warmth)

Muzan Kibutsuji

Kisses: 8/10

Muzan doesn’t like initiating the kiss. He fears it may make him look desperate and needy for your affection. He certainly does not need your kisses! He’s the demon king after all. But your lips are just addicting to him. The taste, the warmth, the moisture, the smell even. Muzan just can’t help but be pouty and pissy when you don’t kiss him for an extensive amount of time, but will refuse to come to you first.

Kisses onto his lips are his most preferred ones since they take time and are the most romantic. When you lean in, Muzan would pull you closer with a small, sly smirk, while holding you by your chin. He would hum approvingly before letting you pull away.

Cheek kisses are the most convenient to him, but he doesn’t always react to your kiss. He might be busy with his research or experimenting, meaning Muzan isn’t really available for a regular kiss. That’s the only time he’ll accept a cheek kiss instead of a regular kiss.

Muzan dislikes forehead kisses, both giving and receiving. In his mind, those are reserved for children and elders.

Sneaking up on this man is impossible, meaning you cannot surprise him with neck kisses. He does not like receiving them. Muzan will allow you a single kiss on his neck before he’ll scowl and glare at you, intimidating you into stopping your antics this instant. But on the other end, he absolutely loves burying his face in your neck and grazing his teeth against your skin, placing a kiss here and there. He loves to gently bite down onto your skin, just until it draws blood, and then lick it away. Again, you’re an uttermost delicacy.

“Stop hiding, I know you’re there. Simply come up to me and give me a proper kiss. No need for those theatrics.”

Hugs and cuddles: 7/10

Muzan is giving up his precious time, the time he could be spending somewhere more important like planning Ubuyashiki’s downfall, or holding an Upper Moon meeting, to hold you in bed while you sleep. Feeling your body rest against his makes him feel peaceful, as if his busy mind(s) can finally relax and slip into a meditative state. The closest he can get to sleep.

He’d run his fingers through your hair and wonder to himself: how did he manage to grow so soft for you? He feels utterly smitten and pathetic.

Muzan is not very fond of hugs though. He feels a little awkward for some reason. He associates hugs with his other human wives, the ones he does not care for and the ones he uses for his own benefit. They are nowhere near you. Hugs are a tool to come closer to those women, so Muzan doesn’t want to look at you as a tool for his own needs. You are his lover, his partner.

When you initiate the hug, he doesn’t mind as much. Muzan would pat your back and then quickly let go again. Although, he likes hugging you in bed, holding you for hours on end.

“The Upper Moons will wait. I wish to hold you for longer, you still seem tired.”

Affectionate nibbling/biting: 5/10

Muzan will tolerate your biting and nibbling at best, but will command you to stop at worst. You could break your delicate teeth by his thick skin if you’re not careful. He’ll sometimes to bury his face into your neck and nibble against your skin, as if teasing himself with your alluring taste. If Muzan bites down too hard, he could make you bleed or even kill you. Yet, the thought of tasting your blood on his tongue is very entertaining to him. But he will restrain himself. Muzan does not want to harm you in any way, after all.

“I will leave my mark on your collarbone. Do not cover it up.”

Compliments: 7/10

Words are meaningless to him, yet Muzan values your opinion and thoughts the most. He prides himself by your praises and compliments. Muzan smirks when you compliment his appearance or fashion sense. Those are some things he values the most about himself and he is glad that you acknowledged it. He might thank you with a silent nod or a smirk.

He also likes watching your reactions to his praises, how your face flushes a little and your lips tilt upwards slightly. Muzan knows how to tell a person all the things they want to hear in order to manipulate them, but he just compliments you in order to fluster you and maybe earn a kiss from you.

“Thank you, my sunlight. Your beauty never fails to enchant me. It’s almost dangerous, don’t you think?”

Kokushibo

Kisses: 7/10

Everytime Kokushibo kisses you, he stops and just states at you for a moment to take in the feeling that is rising in his stomach. Kissing you strangely feels nostalgic of something he cannot quite put his finger on. Due to him wanting to become the strongest swordsman, he denies himself affection subconsciously, so he rarely initiates kissing. That doesn’t mean that Kokushibo doesn’t want affection or doesn’t like it, he just believes he doesn’t deserve it. Therefore, you have to show him that he does deserve your kisses.

Regular kisses feel very intimate to him and are by far Kokushibo’s favourite. He likes it when you take him by the chin and press your lips against his. His face would instantly relax and all six of his eyes would close for just a moment, savouring your taste and warmth.

Cheek kisses are a little more complicated given that he doesn’t really have any cheeks. So either you’d have to place a kiss on the eyelid of his closed lower eyes, or kiss him on his jaw. Kissing him on his eye will earn you a weird look from his lower two eyes. Kissing his jaw will make Kokushibo smirk ever so slightly.

Forehead kisses are just as complicated as cheek kisses, since his forehead is occupied by his upper eyes. Kissing his eyelids again will resolve in Kokushibo staring at you in confusion and offer you a regular kiss instead.

He will not react when you kiss his neck. The only reaction you will get is the tensing of his neck muscles and a quiet glare. In the meantime, Kokushibo prides himself in making you squirm and gasp, meaning he will learn everything about your body just to tease specific reactions out, and that includes the sensitivity of your neck. He’d silently bury his face into your neck after a particularly long training session or a stressful meeting, and just savour the taste of your skin.

“Affection is a distraction, but I will tolerate it. I do not seem to mind yours.”

Hugs and cuddles: 9/10

If Kokushibo is giving up his time to cuddle with you, this demon is utterly smitten for you. He will hold you close near his body, his hand running up and down your delicate body and smooth skin. His lower and upper eyes are closed, demonstrating how much he truly trusts you by lowering his guard severely. Kokushibo sometimes rests his head on your chest and stomach and will silently ask you to run your fingers through his thick, long hair. He doesn’t like to admit it, but Kokushibo purrs. His chest will rumble and vibrate against you when he’s especially content with your cuddling.

Kokushibo cherishes your hugs greatly. Again, he will not ask for them or initiate them and will instead wait until you embrace him first. Once you do, he will not let go until he savoured your presence for long enough. He is too proud to admit that he craves your presence though.

“I do not need comfort. I am beyond such things… Let go? I will not.”

Affectionate biting/nibbling: 4/10

Kokushibo will not react when you bite down onto his lip, hand or wherever else. He will not entertain your antics either and won’t offer you any body parts (he did think about offering you his fleshy katana as some sort of chewing toy).

On the other side, Kokushibo sometimes entertains the thought of biting down onto your skin. He is a demon after all, although he has enough self restrain to not do it. Instead, he’ll leave hickeys on your neck and collarbone.

“Enough. Do not test me. Do you not realise the risk of provoking me?”

Compliments: 10/10

Kokushibo prides himself by listening to your praise and values them by far the most. He values your compliments about his strength and physique in particular, those are the ones that remind him how far he has gone and how strong he truly is. He will dismiss your words but is cherishing them deep down. If he notices that your praises are wavering and lessening, Kokushibo will start feeling jealousy. Why are you not admiring anymore? Is his power faltering? Is there someone else you admire more than him? He should’ve known better than to fall for your alluring words.

But once you offer another praise for him, his insecure thoughts quieten down again for a while.

“Do not waste your breath on flattery… Although I will continue to allow it.”

Douma

Kisses: 9/10

Your kiss is one of the most favourite things in the whole world to him (besides eating humans). Your kisses are like energy to him, and Douma’ll become sluggish and pouty when you don’t give him his daily required amount of smooches. He loves it when you cup his cheeks with both of your hands and pull him onto your lips. Douma will say “Mwah” and do over-exaggerated kissing noises, kissing your lips and the area around them over and over. Also, he doesn’t care if other people are present and watching. They are below him anyway, so why should they care? So what if Douma loves his woman very much? If he wants to, he’d make out with you all day!!

Regular kisses taste well, so he prefers them! Douma will never get tired of the taste of your lips and will try to turn the innocent kiss into a make-out session get more of you.

Cheek kisses feel innocent and charming. They make him grin and want to pull you back to him for more. Also, those are more acceptable to do around the followers. When you kiss Douma normally and pull him a little closer, some will side-eye you and maybe whisper amongst themselves. Especially the elders, they’re the most judgemental for some reason. But they don’t seem to mind the cheek kisses.

Forehead kisses feel oddly motherly for Douma, therefore he doesn’t really like them. He likes being pampered and coddled, but not… in that way. When you kiss him like that, his eyes look empty for just a split second while his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But once you look at him, his expression looks cheerful again.

Once you start kissing his neck though, it’s game on for him. Douma would trap you either against a wall or in his arm and begin his attack on your poor neck: kisses, bites, hickeys, everything. He is a sadist at heart and gets enjoyment out of your squeals and attempts to escape his sweet assault.

“Do not pay attention to them, I want my darling to appreciate me as much as I appreciate her! Go on now, you haven’t finished loving me properly.”

Hugs and cuddles: 10/10

Douma loves your cuddles, especially when YOU initiate them! It makes him incredibly happy when you come to him and sit down onto his lap and cuddle him. He won’t be able to stop grinning and will bury his face in either your cleavage or find his place between your legs when you not sit ok his lap. Douma absolutely loves skin-to-skin contact, even though you might squirm away at first because of his cold skin suddenly touching you. He will blow raspberries into your cleavage and into your neck, and then nibble around until either a hickey develops or you start bleeding. Douma is incredibly greedy when it comes to your cuddles. He sometimes doesn’t even want you to touch any other cultist, not even offering them a hand. Your skin contact is only reserved for him.

Hugs are similar. Douma adores getting your hugs. They feel so warm and welcoming, he wished he could just melt right against you. Maybe even into you. Oh to crawl under your skin and just bask in the warmth of your organs, feeling them squirm around. You probably smell absolutely divine.

That fantasy, to open your stomach up and huddle up inside you, is how he imagines Eternal Paradise. Your warmth surrounding him everywhere, as you’re hugging and holding him from all sides. Sadly, you’re a human, and he wants to keep you around until you grow old and perish. Maybe you want to become a demon so you could live longer? Oh how fun that would be! If you want, he’d even let you crawl inside of him!

“Oh you’re just the sweetest, aren’t you? If you hold me like this, I might just eat you up!… What? No, I was kidding! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Affectionate nibbling/biting: 8/10

Douma would do it himself. Sometimes, he would just take your hand and nibble on your finger, then move on with his day. If you do it, he’ll do it back to you. Everytime you bite him or nibble onto his skin, Douma watches you with big eyes, as if analysing and learning from you. He might pout if you don’t bite down hard enough. Douma can barely even feel you through his thick skin! He’d nuzzle into your neck while you’re biting him. He might even pull on your skin a little.

“You taste diviiiiiine!~ Would you let me bite just a little harder? Your blood goes perfectly with the taste of your skin!”

Compliments: 5/10

Douma has been praised and drowned in compliments all his life. He values your words over the ones of his followers any day and will take your praises to heartHe will smile at your words and thank you, but his cheery smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Aren’t you the sweetest, dear lotus~”

Akaza

Kisses: 7/10

He can’t quite handle kisses yet. They make Akaza stiffen up and blush brightly every time you surprise him with them. He’s not used to your love and affection yet, so will try to copy your gestures and kiss you as well. Akaza tries to give you as much affection as you give to him, but sometimes forgets to do it. Your kiss reminds him to give you your deserved affection.

Regular kisses make him jerk a little when you do them randomly. But he’ll relax fairly quickly and melt against your lips. His hands would subconsciously wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against him. Akaza craves your kiss and he’s not being subtle about it.

Cheek kisses make his face flush in a bright red. He might even hide his face from you and look mad at you. Don’t worry, he’s just mad at himself for being smitten for you so easily.

Forehead kisses make him feel loved. Akaza likes how you cup his cheeks and pull him downwards a little, kissing his forehead. He’ll close his eyes and savour the feeling of your lips against his cool skin.

One time, you nuzzled into Akaza’s neck and started placing gentle kisses all around. He flinched so heard he turned around and almost punched a hold through your body. You learned to not scare him like that again. How did he not sense you anyway? Does he feel this safe in your presence?

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

Hugs and cuddles: 9/10

Akaza is not good with words or gestures, so he feels like he’s expressing his love to you while cuddling. He feels incredibly honoured when you come to him first. You want to cuddle with him? Yes, a thousand times yes. C’mere.

Akaza also loves it when you cuddle him while laying on top of him and all his muscles. While he’s relaxed they are squishy and are perfectly good pillows to relax onto. Especially his pecks. But also, Akaza loves to lay on top of you. He tries not to be too heavy on you, but he just adores to savour your warmth and body beneath him. Just like the kisses, he craves your touch and cuddles desperately.

When you hug him, he stiffens up. Where should he put his hands? Is it okay to wrap them around your waist? Or should he just hover his hand over your body? So, Akaza just awkwardly stands there, with his hands hovering over your body. But once he melts into your touch, he’d close his eyes and hold you for a very long while. Akaza is incredibly touch starved. He needs to be held. Desperately.

“Can we lay down for a sec? Just finished my training anyway and… I kinda missed you.”

Affectionate biting/nibbling: 4/10

Akaza will think that you’re challenging him. He will try to bite you back, but gently. Like a confused puppy. He’d then glance at your face, trying to see if he did what you wanted.

“Are you hungry or something…?”

Compliments: 6/10

Akaza would react very awkwardly at first. He’s very happy when you praise his strength and power. It makes him feel a little prideful and he might answer with a cocky grin or a small nod.

Complimenting something personal about him, for example his loyalty, protectiveness or smile makes him feel incredible awkward. Akaza would blush and try to hide how flustered he gets. He’ll maybe even get angry at how easily he starts to blush and accidentally deflect his anger at you.

“You don’t need to say things like that… but thank you anyway…”

💠

Hope you enjoyed this @pickmans-muse <3

I was planning on writing this anyway, but you requesting this made me extremely happy!! Thank you for requesting!! I may have neglected Akaza a little. I really love him though! I just got really tired and wanted to finish this! That’s also why I left Gyutaro out, I probably will make an extra part for him. Also, guess who my favourite demon is if it’s not obvious enough :P

I seriously love reading all your comments and reblogs, you’re all so so sweet <33

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

Thinking about our boys this fine evening,,

What would their reactions be if you bought them a present?

TURNING TABLES

A/N: My love, I’ve been sitting on this ask for MONTHS. Just chomping at the bit to do it justice. I hope it’s everything you wanted. Enjoy this fluffy fluffy drabble with a lil sprinkle of angst 💕

C/W: Nada, the boys just being adorable. Established relationship. I hope this gives y’all as many delulus as it did me.

GETO

“You’re never going to guess what I got you for your birthday, dimples!” 

Your pretty finger digs into the crater in his left cheek that you’re so fond of. 

Suguru swallows a grin. 

Two things. 

One, you’re the only human in this lifetime and the next, who could call him that and wake up the next morning. 

Two, he knows exactly what you got him. 

Because you’re oblivious in a way that made him fall for you in the first place. 

To you, birthdays are sacred. And must be treated like National holidays. All week you’ve been padding around the apartment, glee in your footsteps. 

You’ve been staring at him. A whole galaxy in your eyes. Precious little giggles escape you at every turn. Because there’s a secret only you are privy to. 

Or so you think. 

Suguru has heard you badgering someone over the phone. 

“No no, it can’t be purple. His favorite color isn’t purple. It’s indigo. The shade between royal blue and violet. Blue. Indigo. Violet. ROY-G-BIV. Rainbows. Indigo.”

You almost flung your laptop off the balcony   two mornings ago. 

Instead of just closing the browser displaying shipment confirmation for the silver analogue watch with the indigo face and chrome bezel. You tossed the entire laptop away and Suguru had to lunge to catch it from shattering.

You are clumsy. 

And terrible at surprises. 

And he adores you. 

More than he knew possible. 

Suguru shrugs out of his grey peacoat. Dinner was phenomenal, yes. But now he needs you on his tongue for dessert. 

He watches you step out of your heels, somewhat upset you didn’t let him take them off for you. 

“On the couch and close your eyes!!” You squeal before disappearing into your bedroom. 

“Yes ma’am.” Low chuckle spilling from his lips. 

You’ll be the one following orders in a second. 

Suguru does as he is instructed. Back against the plush couch. Legs spread a little further than usual. 

You’ve had him stiff as a board the whole night. Doting over him. Petting his thigh. Pretty lips full of quick kisses and “Happy Birthday baby” and “I love you.” He almost took you at the dinner table. 

But he’s a gentleman. 

At least, before you get behind closed doors. 

“Are you ready for me, birthday boy?” You call out. And your voice alone strips him of manners. 

“I’m ready to be inside you, gorgeous.” Suguru palms the length of his shaft. 

“Suguru!!! Behave.”

In a matter of seconds, your full body weight lands on his lap. You straddle him and his hands fly to your rounded hips. 

You are wearing significantly less clothes than you were 2 minutes ago. 

Suguru eyes flare open. The zipper on his suit pants nearly breaks. 

“Ohhh, my pretty girl.” 

His eyes violate every inch of your negligée. Lacy. Delicate. Riding the gentle dips and curves of your beautiful frame. Saliva pools in his mouth. You have no idea what he’s going—

“Eyes closed!” Your tiny palm can barely span his face. 

“Alright, alright.” Suguru hikes you further onto his hips. His rod thundering against his fabric. 

“Before you start, baby. Reach into my jacket pocket for me?” 

“What?” Suguru always loved how pretty you sound when you’re shocked. 

“Do it.” 

Your fingers scramble to follow his order. Always so compliant. His name, tangled with an airy little gasp escapes next. 

“Suguru Geto, what is this?!” 

Eyes still closed, Suguru flashes a mischievous grin. You’re so pretty when you’re stern with him. You punish (reward) him with a quick slap on his chest. 

Suguru pulls his lids open. He finds you holding 2 nearly identical boxes. A bigger one in the right, a demure one in the left. 

You’re flushed up to your ears and Suguru hasn’t ever seen a woman so beautiful. 

“What is this?” You probe again, eyes glossed over. 

Suguru gently works the smaller box out of your hand. 

“A present,” he plants a chaste kiss on your pouty little lips. 

“But it’s your birthday. And I wanted to surprise you. I saw this—“

“—silver analog watch with an indigo face and chrome bezel, I know baby.” Suguru’s lips find your flushed, warm cheeks. 

“Suguru…”

“So I got one for you too.” He opens the smaller box, just as you reveal his surprise. 

Yours is daintier. Scaled down to your small wrist. Both of your initials inscribed at the base of your watch. 

“Baby.”

Mist coats your eyes the way it does. The way your love coats him. In all places. All at once. Gentle. Refreshing.

A blessing. 

“You are the love of my life. In this lifetime and the next. Thank you for the birthday gift, sweet girl.”

                                 ——

GOJO

“Satoru, Jesus Chri—are you kidding me right now?” 

“What’s the matter, baby?” 

Your boyfriend was born with a silver spoon and a silver tongue. 

An expert at rolling, whipping and twisting words until they’re saltwater taffy. Sweet on the mouth. Sticky in reality. And at its worst, kryptonite to the person consuming them. 

As if he didn’t just steal the pink satin bow, from your head. And your hair falls in a slow cascade around your face. 

Satoru slides into the seat across the dinner table. Candlelight kissing his high cheekbones. Tonight makes it three years from the day he asked you to be his. 

Not that it matters, really. Because time crumbles to stardust around him. 

Every minute, every second with Satoru feels like the first. Your heart can’t tell the difference, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

A mischievous grin reaches his 10-carat diamond eyes. Razor sharp, and a reminder to everyone within a 1 mile radius that he’s not of this world. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Satoru toys with your hair tie. Deftly knotting it into a bow on his wrist — an egregious accessory next to his cuff links. 

“Save the pillow talk, Satoru!”

 “What?” He retorts, slinging his elbow over the back of his chair. Dangling his newest prized possession in your face. 

“Is it so bad that your boyfriend wants to feel close to you? You won’t let me sit next to you — I’m desperate.” 

You feign a gasp and lean over. Hushed because what you’re about to say is sacrilegious. 

“The Strongest Sorcerer in the modern era won’t survive sitting across from his girlfriend instead of next to her? Don’t let the bad guys hear that.” 

Bellowing laughter erupts. His base low and clear as an alpine lake. Your soprano a feather light harmony. 

Unbridled joy that is so unique to your relationship echoes throughout the dining room. Waiters and waitresses send fond smiles your way because the restaurant is dedicated to your celebration.

Satoru’s lips find the back of your hand. Embers from the candle catch the golden flecks of sunset in his Mediterranean Sea. Eyes with still waters, tonight.

He’s beautiful, your boy.

“Happy anniversary, princess.” 

“Happy anniversary, my love. I have something for you.”

 You glide your hand out of his grasp before he locks it in. Eyebrows already crawling to the center of his face. 

“I told you not to get—“

“Hush!” 

Always one to give, never one to receive, Satoru narrows his gaze. You know that look — he’s planning on tripling his retaliation gift. 

Satoru reluctantly takes the box out of your hands, while you watch on bated breath. 

His full lips hang open. Cotton candy dusting the tip of his nose, blooming to his ears. He’s never like this. Taken aback. Full of surprise.

Your full name tumbles out of his mouth. Almost foreign to your ears, but indulgent when coated in his rich, loving tone. 

Satoru pulls the leather bracelet out of the box. An infinity symbol woven in the center with your initials and his initials flanking either side. 

Before you get a chance to breathe again you’re standing in his arms. In the middle of the empty room. Face nearly eclipsed by his large hands.

“Baby,” Is all that escapes him before he crashes his lips onto yours. 

His tongue immediately begs for entry. Faint taste of mint chocolate ghosting your taste buds. 

It’s comforting. It’s dizzying. It’s Satoru.  

“L-let me explain the gift.” Panting out of his embrace. A light sheen already coating his eyes. He’s statuesque except for his thumbs that strum the apples of your cheeks. 

“Of course.”

“You’ll probably live forever, fighting demons and such—“

“Curses, baby. The demons are just personal.” He laughs. 

Satoru flashes another smile, but this one is blue. Melancholy in a way that tugs on your heart strings. You draw him in for a quick kiss. 

A mere bandaid on a lifetime of third degree burns.

“I know I’m not invincible like you and your friends. And you spend an inordinate amount of time dealing with the fact that I’m a Normie.” 

Satoru’s nose crinkles. “It’s not a crime to not see curses.” 

“I rather you not see them. I don’t want you subjected to that.” Grit in his voice and his eyes glaze over. You know that Satoru is watching gruesome memories on his mind’s big screen. 

“I know, handsome.”Your hand cups his face and he subconsciously unravels in it.  All but purring into your warmth. 

“But that doesn’t change the fact that the world needs you for far greater things than it needs me.” 

“Do not talk like—“

Your finger presses against his lips. Your boyfriend has a real habit of cutting you off and at this rate you two will never get to enjoy your dinner. 

A small chuckle escapes him. He’s sorry. And you continue.

“I got you that bracelet…because..” Suddenly shy under his undivided attention, you drop your gaze. Thumbing his new gift instead. 

You pause. He pauses. Everything around you halts.

Then it all tumbles out at once. 

“You’re it for me, Satoru. The One. Forever and always. In every life we’re reborn in, even if I can’t stick around as long as you can in this one.” 

Cheeks incinerated by your confession, you muster the courage to lock eyes with him once more. Nearly flat lined at what you see.

A crystal tear sliding down one side of his face. All of his sharp lines and angles, like melted butter. Mouth ajar. Moused. Imperfect. Like his heart is splayed open on his chest for the world to see. 

“Satoru…?”

Hearing his name jumpstarts his engine. Satoru lifts you into his arms and strides toward the exit in milliseconds. 

You toss your head back. Full of breathy giggles because this is the man you know and love. The modus operandi that made you fall so deeply for him in the first place. 

“Dinner! Baby our dinner!” You squeal a little too late, given that he’s 4 more long strides away from the door. 

“It’s taken care of. I’ll have them send it to the house.” Eyes straight ahead. A man on a special grade mission.

The two of you come to an abrupt stop just shy of the front door. Satoru rakes his glassy eyes over your flushed face.

“I would die for you. You know that, right?” His voice cracks. Actively staving off the flood threatening the rim of his eyes. 

“You and me…you know that I…I lo—, I’ve…you’re the only…fuck.” 

Satoru draws in a frustrated sigh. Tossing his head to the side. Hopeful that looking at anything else in the room would make this easier.

 “You know why I cant.. I can’t say it baby I—“

“I know, Satoru. I know.” 

‘Because love is the most twisted curse of all.’

And he believes that the moment it falls off his tongue, you’ll be taken from him. 

Your lover’s presence is grandiose. Demanding. Loud. Noticed from miles away. Earth shifted on its axis when he was born. 

A loan from Heaven’s stash. He’s a gift to mankind and your personal Moon.

But his love is the opposite.

Found only in quiet moments. Moments when his shield, breast plate and sword clamor against the hardwood floor after saving lives time and time again. 

When you wake up to him staring at you, caressing your cheeks. A gentle wake up call because he needs a kiss. A temporary reprieve from his nightmares. The demons that haunt him day in and day out.

When he comes home early from every single mission. Just to get back to where his heart is. 

His love is woven into your satin pillow cases, that hold his triumphs with students, his frustration from work, his regrets. 

His love is painted on walls of your apartment. The walls that could barely contain his grief. Wails loud enough to shift earth’s tectonic plates. That heard him scream in your arms. For months. All because he lost his first love at his own hands. 

His love glows under the moonlight. When he is buried deep inside you. Rambling about giving you a son first, then a daughter. Because he has to teach his boy to be strong. Strong enough to keep up with him. Strong enough to watch the world burn for his sister if it has to. 

Satoru Gojo is not soft, but he loves you softly. 

Another tear glides down his porcelain skin. Somewhat ashamed that he can’t swipe it way with his hands full of you, he flashes a lopsided smile. It makes his otherwise ethereal coalescence of features so boyish. Tangible. 

Human. 

Satoru presses a salty kiss against your lips. And it’s the sweetest he’s ever tasted. Pulling away briefly, to affirm you in a way that only he can.

“Infinity, baby?”

“Infinity, baby.”

Don’t know if you are taking requests but maybe battinson and reader doing their mbti test, and reader getting a villain personality.

lmfao

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: implied sexual content but no body parts mentioned. words: 894.

a/n: gratuitous amount of italics here. not sorry. implied sub!bruce but that's not what this is about. also, anon, guess who ELSE has a villain personality type according to google :)

who's gonna tell him

You probably know he’s not really listening. With the wrench between his teeth, fingers straining to reach into the void of his engine and find where the Batmobile had gone unresponsive, he’s only half present. Maybe a third at best. Still, he enunciates through the metal, already forgetting what you'd called him, “INT...C? What does that mean?”

“I-N-T-J. You’re the architect. It means you’re introverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging. You’re good at problem solving and detective work, of course. But you struggle emotionally and are prone to being… ‘socially clueless’.” From your spot in the driver’s seat, Bruce makes a show of leaning around the propped up hood just to be clear on how much he disapproves. He even removes the wrench with his oil-slick hand so he can frown properly. “I didn’t write this, babe. Don’t look at me.”

“You’re reading it to me.”

“I just wanted to know if we’d be compatible!”

He huffs, having found what ever kink in the machine he was looking for and focusing on that instead. He disappears behind the hood but his voice carries through the terminus loud and clear, “Well, are we?”

You decide to do some research.

Somewhere between Bruce triumphing over the engine and coming around to the window to gloat, he catches you staring incredulously at your phone.

“What's the verdict? Are we sworn enemies?” Your eyes dart up to Bruce’s and the longer you stare at him, picking him apart in silence, the more his smile begins to fade. For a second, he starts to think you actually might be sworn enemies. For a millisecond, he starts to care.

"I took the test." You declare, voice freakishly even. Bruce isn't smiling anymore.

"And?"

"I got ENTJ."

"And?"

"We're compatible, sure, whatever," Bruce squints, confused, because you'd been more excited to know the answer to that than he was, "but then I fell down this rabbit hole—I wanted to see who we shared personalities with—and then I found this article. Guess what we are?"

You turn your phone to him. You've pulled up a web result for “Which MBTI personality types are villains?”. In the blurb at the very top, he reads INTJ. Then he looks over at you, your eyes wide and suspicious, and he’d ask you to stop giving him that look if it wasn’t for the way your mouth starts to curl up.

You’re not suspicious. You’re impish. “We’re both villains.”

Sure enough, the other most common villain personality type is ENTJ.

Bruce thinks it’s silly, a little less silly than when you’d done his natal chart (but he’d sat and asked questions all the same, a little too invested in the bits about his childhood karma) because the quiz at least knew something about him, but silly nonetheless.

But you’re also enjoying it enough that he leans into it, feels his own lips curling up too. He folds his arms on the door and leans inside the car, casting a dark shadow over you, "I have enough bad press as it is."

You giggle. You place a hand on his forearm and squeeze, "I don't know. I think you'd be pretty sexy as a villain."

Bruce watches you through hooded eyelids and considers, for a moment, that maybe you're a little too into this. He treads the waters, wondering whether you'll show your hand. He digs through his memory for what you'd called him, the other thing that had actually stuck, “The architect and…”

“The commander.” You finish, jutting your chin up with pride.

“Sounds about right.”

“I'll be the one in control, and you'll be my pretty little mastermind making everything happen.”

“Sounds sort of right.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’? You’re a slave to my every whim.”

“Oh, I'm your slave now?" Bruce drops an octave with intention, delighting in your fingernails biting into his muscles. "Since when?"

Your eyes fucking twinkle. You look so excited that he fleetingly wonders if he should keep an eye on you. And he imagines you’d enjoy having him bested, kneeling at your feet as you unmask him and lean in and grin and declare, victorious- “Haven’t you always been?”

Your breath on his lips hasn’t even cooled before he’s leaning into the car and craning your mouth up to meet his, a hand at your jaw and the other keeping him propped through the window.

He imagines too, just for fun, leaning into a getaway car to celebrate a job well done, before coming around the side to jet off into the sunset. A real Bonnie and Clyde.

He feels you tugging on his shoulders and leaning back into the driver’s seat, compelling him to follow. You almost drag him fully through the window (a feat that’s only possible because he’s basically putty in your hands right now), and he grips the center console to steady himself before he falls in and crushes you, “The car’s been fixed all of two minutes and you wanna defile it already?” Bruce accuses, not actually caring in the slightest.

You’re awful. Your eyes still twinkle beneath the innocent flutter of your eyelashes, clearly still on villains and evil plans and whatever images you’d conjured up in your brain after calling him your slave. What ever happened to not mixing business with pleasure? “Come on, Batman. Don't be such a prude."

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat

“are ya sure yer not dating (y/n)?” osamu suddenly asks his brother during a quiet lunch between the two of them.

atsumu chokes on the grains of rice in his mouth, coughing violently and punching his chest. when he finally settles down, he throws a glare at his brother. “what the hell, ‘samu?”

“that’s not an answer.” osamu continues to press.

“we’re not!” atsumu answers, picking up a piece of chicken katsu with his chopsticks. “i don’t like them like that. they don’t like me like that. we’re just friends.”

the bright red-pink of his ears speak otherwise. you see, osamu knows his twin better than he knows himself. he knows that whatever comes out of atsumu’s mouth is a load of crap. just friends? yeah fucking right.

osamu has never seen his brother look at anyone the way he looks at you, starlight and pure adoration swirling in his irises. he acts as if your every word were an earth-shaking prophecy sent by the heavens. his honey brown eyes stare, and he smiles so gently that it makes him sick.

friends aren’t touchy in the way you guys are. you hold each other’s hand like it’s nothing. with interlocked fingers, atsumu will trace his thumb down the back of your hand for no apparent reason. when you’re bored, you’ll take atsumu’s hand into your lap and play with it, bending his fingers, comparing hand sizes, and running a featherlight touch across the expanse of his palm to see if he’ll react.

osamu notices how you never miss the opportunity to find a seat on his brother’s lap. whether there are no seats of available or ten open ones, you will always choose atsumu. and it’s not like he’s complaining about it. in fact, osamu thinks that he waits for it because atsumu would never want to miss the chance to secure his arms around your waist and whisper into your ear amidst a loud conversation.

and you can’t forget the cuddles, and the hugs that linger longer than they should, and the way you’ll cup atsumu’s face, and the way you play with his piss blond hair.

you’re the one person atsumu lets wear his jersey to his game. he ensures you get the best seat to watch him play. osamu doesn’t miss the way his twin looks at you before every serve or the way you cheer the loudest when he scores an ace.

osamu doesn’t think that someone who “doesn’t like you” would be thinking about you every time they shop. “(y/n) likes this snack”. “(y/n) would love this shirt”. “oh hey, (y/n) showed me this”. “‘samu, should i buy this for (y/n)?”.

osamu has never seen two people so madly in love before. he doesn’t know how you guys haven’t realized it yet. and he can’t keep playing along because atsumu’s katsu looks really good right now.

“right…” osamu chooses to answer, dipping his chicken into the tonkatsu sauce. “i sure hope they’re gonna have fun on that date they have today.”

his brother’s chopsticks clatter onto the table before rolling onto the floor. the sight of atsumu’s open mouth filled with rice is unsightly, and osamu has to suppress his laugh.

“they didn’t tell you?” osamu raises an eyebrow.

“no?!” atsumu suddenly stands, slamming his palms into the table.

“yeah, i think they’re gonna leave soon.” osamu lies easily. there is no date. but of course, does ‘tsumu really need to know that?

the blond twin practically bolts away from the dining table and out of the house. when the door slams shut, osamu grins to himself, reaching for the unfinished plate in front of him.

“he can thank me later.”

atsumu brainrot never ends. something short and sweet bc school is kicking my ass.

Meeting the Family

based off this! but can be read alone.

Yandere! Fem! Reader / Yandere! Bruce Wayne

> romantic with bruce, platonic with the boys. the boys could be read as pre-yandere if you wish. > tw/cw: reader is a yandere, yandere-typical thought patterns, implied drugging, mention of self-harm, implied drugging > request: thoughts on co-conspirator!reader meeting the boys? > a/n: Hmmmm, i feel it’d be a meeting of interrogation where they see you’re clearly unstable !! > word count: 1.4k

You walk towards the threshold of a Wayne Manor sitting room. You have this hallway nearly memorized. You’ve viewed it through your 24/7 surveillance cameras and glanced upon it during your visits, but never has this hallway seemed so daunting until now. Luckily, your lover is nearby to reassure you. Bruce slips his hand into yours, and you inwardly swoon. You share a warm glance with him.

“They’ll adore you,” he says. You let a smile peek through your anxious expression. “I know I do.” At such sweet words, you feel your cheeks heat. Ugh, this man, you think affectionately.

Your Sunday best is the armor you don to meet Bruce’s children. It seems like you won’t even be able to meet them all – only the ones in town. “They just want to interrogate me,” you whine, letting yourself be pulled towards the impeccably decorated room.

“They just want to get to know you,” Bruce returns, humming. You can’t retort because already, you are in full view of his brood. The three of them look up from their phones and books. You swallow, under the scrutiny of two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of green.

“... Hi,” you say, waving a stupid hand. One smiles in return, thank goodness.

“I’ll just let you all get acquainted,” Bruce says, retreating. You swerve to him, blinking dumbly. That was not the agreement. The agreement was that Bruce moderate the discussion– and he’s gone.

He leaves the sitting room, and leaves you in the lion’s den to fend for yourself. And boy, do the lions pounce. 

The eldest, Dick – he’s positively godsent. He’s the first to shake your hand, immediately going into a friendly babble about how you’re all Bruce ever talks about and how he’s been excited to meet you. And thank God for that, because it manages to ease the tension you still have in your shoulders. He introduces himself and his brothers, melts the ice by teasing them as he does it. He offers you a seat across from them, offers you tea and cookies. He shares an anecdote of Bruce’s less polished moments to make you laugh. 

You soon realize he was a sleeper agent. He was merely buttering you up, lowering your defenses with well-placed platitudes and good-natured jokes.

It’s Tim who begins the true assault.

“So,” Tim begins over a cup of tea, looking upon you owlishly. “Isolation for 10 long years… How was that?” You blink, startled, before smiling weakly. At least no one was treating you like glass. Sometimes, that made you feel even more like a freak.

You try to give him a Sparknotes recollection, but it doesn’t satisfy him. At his badgering, you do relent more details. You are slipping your innermost thoughts without much of a fight, to your surprise. Dick’s empathetic gaze and Tim’s enraptured attention have you spilling dark thoughts it took you months to even tell Bruce… 

It was long. It was traumatic. Mind-altering. You have breakdown after breakdown. Self-harm after self-harm. There is a part of you you can never get back… So, 'how was it?' Why, just awful, thanks for asking!

Dick comforts you with “you’re so strong,” as Tim nods. He seems happy with his findings. It seems like you have piqued his academic interest – you can basically see the gears churning behind his mind, the factoids he’s storing for later. For what, you don’t know, but you’re glad to help. Throat dry, you down the rest of that blasted tea, but the boys aren’t quite finished.

Damian, however, is brutal in his questioning, sparing any of the pleasantries or dithering his brothers employed. He asks rapid fire about your past outside of your years in isolation. What was your childhood like? Your relationship with your parents? Did you ever graduate high school? College? What was your major? Do you like animals? His father houses two dogs, a cat, and a cow – you do know that don’t you? 

“What are your intentions with my father?” At that, you flinch.

“Nothing… nefarious, to be sure,” you say, sweat beginning to bead on your temple. It’s true! Aside from all the dastardly actions you wanted to inflict upon Bruce in the bedroom, nothing nefarious!

“And his other suitors? They don’t bother you?” 

At that, your smile wilts. Not from any offense… you simply don’t enjoy the reminder that others do seek Bruce’s affection. 

“They… don’t worry me,” you say succinctly. Dick doesn’t think you realize how your smile has grown sharp. Damian doesn’t let on whether he approves or disapproves of the answer. And Tim simply watches.

“And my father’s controlling and possessive tendencies? You’re fine with that? What would you do if you caught him in a lie? Or if a woman he was involved with confronted you?”

You gape like a fish. Man, what a character this one was. Damian blinks slow and catlike, before he sniffs. “I’m asking for one of the siblings who couldn’t be here today.”

“Um…” you return, discombobulated. You shoot off your answers as rapid-fire as he posed them. “I haven’t noticed any tendencies. And I can handle myself! If he lied… I’d hear him out. He probably had a good reason, of course.”

“What if it was infidelity?” 

You glare at them. “I’d get rid of her.” Why do they keep bringing up other women? 

At the boys’ silence, you realize your mistake. You wave your hands and bluster, “Not like– not like get rid of her– I would just tell her to… Leave. And I’d be… angry… at Bruce.” God, you don’t feel like you’re doing too well in this interview. You hiccup, filling your cup some more. What is in this tea? Man, it’s delicious.

“... Interesting.” 

“What if Bruce left you out of his own volition?” Tim points out, drawing your attention.

Your head snaps to him and you stare… That possibility had never even crossed your mind.

“He wouldn’t,” you say, confused. At raised eyebrows, you say, “I mean. I-I don’t think he would.” You have faith in Bruce. It’s been five months now, and your relationship has gone swimmingly. You had your insecurities… but Bruce had kissed all your worries away by now. Your fingers dig into the cushion of the couch. 

He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. He had already reassured you, and been so kind, and wonderful, and shown you what love was like– he couldn’t just leave you now–

“But what if he did?” and this time, the question comes from Dick, who, if you recall, hadn’t asked a single question yet. He looks serious, unlike his casual air from before.

You keep the desperation out your voice by keeping it chillingly level. “Then I’d convince him otherwise.” Good answer, good answer, you applaud yourself. All the boys nod, looking upon you with varying degrees of interest, curiosity, and understanding.

“Then… I suppose we have just one more question,” Tim says, plucking the kettle of tea out your hands. You pout.

“Thoughts on having children?”

At the question, your brows shoot into your hairline.

“... Are there not enough of you already?” you blurt.

To your relief, they all relax.

-

After that strange encounter, Bruce shows himself and sees you out. The walk outside is quiet. Comfortably quiet on your end. You hope you did good… no, you reassure yourself. Fuck it, you did great.

“So… how were they?” 

You glance at his face, and are surprised to see thinly veiled concern behind his smile. “Did any of them say anything… strange? And… did you like them?” You laugh, before floating up to kiss Bruce between the brows. Flight powers came in handy for stuff like that.

“They were wonderful,” you say cheekily. “Something they clearly get from their father.”

-

bonus!

Bruce re-enters the foyer. He shoots off a text, lamenting. If you hadn’t had him bug his own home, he could’ve spoken to the boys freely. He could’ve had Jason hide nearby, instead of having to listen in on Damian’s phone.

Bruce: Did that satisfy your curiosities?

Several ellipses in bubbles pop up, before his phone rattles with their responses.

Damian: Frankly, she comes off as airheaded and naive, but at least she seems to have some semblance of spine.

Jason: She’s crazy. Didn’t we tell you to stop sticking your dick in crazy

Dick: Well, I think that makes you guys a perfect match!

Tim: bruce i’m sorry, you cannot fix her. however, i would like to study her. and possibly, make her worse

Bruce sighs, albeit smiling. By all accounts, you seem have gotten their general approval.

Love your content so much! Keep up the good work. How do we feel about yandere! Slasher x final girl reader? :33

lover boy’s final girl ˚୨୧₊♱

thank you baby! i did get a liiiitle carried away cus i'm a sucker for this concept but i hope ya like it <3

note: tho the term final ‘girl’ is used, reader is written to be gender neutral because fuck that

also tw talk of suicide and gore !

“sugar, don’t you get it?” the painful sound of a baseball bat being dragged along the cabin’s walls, leaving the wallpaper a peeling mess. dean’s words are accompanied by a low laugh. “you can run and hide s’much as you want, but i’ll always find you.”

you try to tune him out, but the world is silent save for his voice, so you cling to every word. “like a cute game of hide and seek,” you curl into yourself and don’t dare to breathe, press one hand over your mouth and curl the other around the knife you’d haphazardly swiped from the kitchen, whilst running for your life.

“wonder what you’ll give me when i find you,” dean muses, and you hear him push open the bedroom door, start humming something under his breath. “not that you need to, you’re enough of a prize for me!” it’s something that sounds like a sweet melody you once knew, but is now twisted and dark, when it leaves his lips.

summer camp was supposed to be fun. it was supposed to be meaningless sex and stupid gossip, lazy days around the pool and flicking through glossy magazines with your friends —

“y’know, i’ve been wanting to do this for a some time now.” dean says, the words so light on his tongue, like a confession.“get rid of everybody around you, and keep you all to myself.”

your friends, who’d warned you that nothing good would come about getting back with your obsessive ex boyfriend, dean. there was no way his presence here was a coincidence.

“when you broke up with me, i wanted to kill myself, y’know? but then i realised that none of this was my fault — you left because your friends,” he sticks his tongue out as if the word leaves a bad taste on his mouth, “were filling your head with stupid, fuckin’ ideas.”

your friends who tried to remind you why you broke up with him the first time: after he threatened to destroy anybody who so much as looked at you, and then came home with bloody hands. your love and his affection shouldn’t have cost someone their life, he was only going to ruin you.

“so can you blame me for getting’ rid of them? you just drive me insane, baby!” dean gushes, kicks open another door and rummages behind wardrobes and under the beds. “i feel like every inch of my skin is burning when you so much as look at me.”

your friends, who’d told you time and time again that he needed psychiatric help, that he relied on you too much and it was only going to end in flames for a second time.

“i know you’re scared, and i’m sorry you had to see me kill your friends, but hey! nobody can keep you away from me now.”

your friends who couldn’t say they told you so after dean swung a baseball bat, embedded with nails, at their heads. and then, he had hunted down the counsellors and the nurse and every other camper.

“after this, we’ll go somewhere far away and adopt a cat or two. just the two of us, alright?“ dean asks, though you know your answer wouldn’t matter, can’t change dean’s delusions. “lost you once already, so i’ll have to keep you under lock and key this time.”

your friends, whose bodies lay littered across the camp’s grounds, bloody and broken and brutally battered. but their corpses weren’t alone, kept company by everybody else unfortunate enough to have gotten on that bus to summer camp.

“all that’s left now,” dean’s steps get closer. “is to find you, baby.”

and now, you were folded into a kitchen cabinet, a dark, cramped space that had you aching everywhere and absolutely terrified. dean’s song was crooked in the way that only he could be, and the sound of his voice had you on high alert, focusing on where he was so that the moment he left the cabin — you’d bolt out the back door.

until the humming stops, and dean’s steps falls quiet. silence descends the cabin and all you can do is wait, in both trepidation and anticipation. did he leave, or is he playing with me?

you shy away from the cabinet door, inching back as much as the small space will allow you. your heart hammers in your chest and you don’t dare blink.

and then the cabinet doors swing open, and dean’s crouched in front of you with his bat swung over his shoulder. every screw embedded in the bat is covered in skin slicked with blood, and your grip on the knife falters.

he reaches out, gently takes the knife from your hands, tosses it aside, where it clambers on the kitchen tiles and sits out of your reach. you’re at a loss for words, but dean doesn’t mind. he’ll do all the talking, just having you there is more than enough.

your ex boyfriend tilts his head to the side, and the corners of his lips quirk up in a crazed grin as his eyes trail over your quivering body with a sick amusement.

“found you, sugar. ♡”

dean wouldn’t lose you again.