Clownmousesposts - Possum My Beloved💕

Just went Singapore, it was a lot of fun

CREATURE????

It's Always Been You

Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Summary: Jealous? Jealous? No, absolutely not. (Or the one where Miguel can't admit he's jealous)

Word Count: 5.8k+

Warnings: Failed attempt at plot. Language. Bad attempt at writing British slang. A lil' Angst. A lil' fluff. Smut. Nipple play, oral (m receiving), p in v. Not beta read.

I feel this is kinda corny. Ya'll let me know.

Minors DNI.

...

Twenty minutes.

It's been twenty minutes since you've gotten wrapped up in a conversation with…that guy. A Spider-Man from a universe perpetually stuck in the era of 1950s greasers. His slicked-back pompadour hairstyle gleamed in the fluorescent lighting of the cafeteria, an unlit cigarette hanging stupidly from his mouth (no smoking allowed on the premises, of course). It shifted this way and that, dancing along with the movement of his lips as he talked and talked and fucking talked. 

And what were you even laughing at? 

Your head was thrown back, exposing your delicate neck, a delicious strip of glowing skin not hidden away by your fitted suit (it should be illegal, really, you wearing that all the time). He wanted to tear it off you—wondered what your skin tasted like, what it’d feel like to sink his teeth into you—make you gasp and cry for him, begging for his touch.

You'd probably sound so pretty begging.

Miguel grunted, shaking his head as if to physically rid himself of his thoughts. They came all too frequently recently.

He watched the exchange, arms crossed over his broad chest as he gnawed at his bottom lip, leaning his large body against a white column in the distance.

"What’s with the face?" Hobie appeared above him, hanging by a web with baby Mayday glued to his back like a spider monkey. The redheaded baby cried in glee, crawling out of her carrier and quickly falling into Miguel's waiting arms. 

“What do you want?” Miguel snapped as he held the squirming baby in his large hands, finally getting her to calm down when he set her comfortably on his shoulder. She settled down, leaning her tiny head against Miguel's.

"Oi," Hobie tutted, landing on his boot-covered feet, "what's got your knickers in a bunch, aye, bossman?" He followed Miguel's line of vision, the two of them now observing your interaction with Spider-Grease (a stupid fucking name as far as Miguel was concerned).

"It's the new bloke that s'got you livid, innit?" Hobie chuckled, watching Miguel's thick brows progressively furrow in irritation, "Plays mean guitar, that one. What’d he do to you?"

"Nothing."

"It's never nothin’ with you, man," Hobbie snatched Mayday back, placing her snuggly in her carrier backpack and slinging her over his shoulder, "bet s’got somethin’ to do with her.” He jerked his head in your direction. 

Miguel grunted, his eyes shifting to glare at Hobie. His intimidation tactic, while usually very effective on others, did nothing but amuse Hobie. He knew he struck a nerve. Talking about you always did.

“Ahh, bingo.”

“What do you want?” Miguel snapped.

“Right,” Hobie dug in his pocket, delighting Mayday with a sweet treat, “Babysittin’ the little one for Peter. Taking the rest of the day off, yeah?” 

“Lárgate.” Miguel waved him off.

“Thanks, bossman.” He was gone almost instantly, swinging away with baby Mayday’s snorting laughter echoing down the hall.

When Miguel's eyes fell back on you, his jaw clenched hard enough to shatter bone. The greaser’s hand was on you, fingers curling around your shoulder. Miguel could read you well enough by now. You didn’t really like it, but you smiled politely, eyebrows tense and nose wrinkled just a bit. You could handle yourself, he knew—he’d seen you take down opponents three times your size (with his help)—but it was a face you’ve rarely made since he’s known you. 

He didn't like it.

It was enough to send Miguel charging in your direction in a heartbeat, towering over where you both were seated. 

“Miguel!” You looked up at him with a grin, and he swore your pretty eyes lit up at the sight of him. 

“How you doin’, Mr. O’Hara?” the greaser smiled, hand falling from your shoulder immediately. Miguel regarded him carefully, eyeing him from head to toe. He couldn’t even remember how this guy got into the Spider Society (he blamed Jessica). He couldn’t even remember his fucking real name. Kevin? Keith? 

“Kenneth Conner, if ya don’t remember, sir.”

Right. Kenneth. 

Miguel remained quiet, eyes narrowing before turning his attention toward you. 

“I need you in the office. Now.” He grunted, walking away before getting a response. He heard you apologize profusely for his atrocious behavior before scurrying to catch up with him.

“You’re rude.” You said when you caught up to him, legs struggling to keep up with Miguel’s much longer strides. He was half expecting you to have that grouchy look on your face—the one you’d make when he added more work to your already large pile of responsibilities. It was cute. But when Miguel looked you over to gauge your reaction, you were hiding a smile behind your fingertips.

Insufferably cute, Lord help him.

“Whaddaya need from me?” You asked, watching him settle on the platform, already getting straight to work. The yellow holographic screens buzzed to life, illuminating his tanned skin as he swiped through them, almost on autopilot.

“Nothing,” he said, his back facing you. 

"Hm, that's strange considering you like to work me overtime, O'Hara." He wasn't looking at you but he knew you'd have your hands on your hips.

"Looked like you needed some help," Miguel muttered, absentmindedly switching between holo screens, viewing them but not really focusing on the information presented to him.

"Needed help from who? Ken?" You laughed—a pretty sound that only amplified his irritation. 

Ken? You were on a nickname basis now? 

"Do you like him or somethin'?" Miguel asked with a scowl as he looked over his shoulder, his red eyes bleeding into yours. You did indeed have your hands on your hips as he assumed, sporting a humorless twist of your lips.

"Pfft, why? You jealous or somethin'?" You mimicked him with a snort. His hands turned to fists at his sides, claws digging into his palms. 

Jealous? Jealous? No, absolutely not. 

"Shut up," he barked, turning away from the system before hopping off the platform, suddenly needing to be anywhere else but there, "Go report to Sector 8." Your jaw dropped, and he almost smiled cruelly at how comedic it was, but he had a reputation to uphold, so he schooled his features, putting on a stoic face.

"What for?" You demanded.

"I like to work you overtime, remember?" Miguel said, breezing past you.

"Mig," you whined, and he nearly stopped in his tracks at the sultry tone of your voice, "I was just about to go home!"

"Not anymore," he called over his shoulder with a sneer, "ask Lyla for the details. Get to work, Chiquita.” 

...

You were bare-skinned and glowing, waiting for him in the safety of his soft sheets.

You looked so small propped up on his pillows—just a pretty little speck in an ocean of dark satin.

Whining. You were always whining for him— impatient—your obscene noises making his blood sing and his cock throb with need. But he denied you, patiently watching from a distance. He smiled, fangs out as you begged, and pleaded for him.

"Touch yourself." He demanded. 

And you did, immediately swirling the pads of your fingers over your swollen clit before impatiently stuffing them into your glistening cunt. In and out they went, coating them in your slick till your pussy gleamed in the moonlight, ready for his thick cock to slide right in.

And that's when Miguel would be on the prowl, approaching slowly like a beast on the hunt, salivating, ready to dive right in.

He loomed over you, taking in the sight of your flushed face, your swollen lips, and your glossy eyes filled with unshed tears. Your legs were spread wide for him, bent at the knees to accommodate him. He lowered his hips, cock perfectly aligned with your opening, slowly pushing his fat head in to split you in half and—

Miguel gasped in the quietness of his bedroom, eyes shooting open, gazing straight into pitch darkness. He was cocooned in his sweaty sheets, chest heaving and cock standing at attention. He groaned, turning to look at the holographic clock on his bedside table. The digital image blinded him for a few moments before he focused on the yellow numbers:

4:00 AM.

He huffed, hands running down the length of his sweaty face in frustration. As if his waking life wasn't bad enough, he couldn't even catch a break in his dreams.

They came just as frequently as the daydreams, usually with the same conclusion: Miguel balls deep in your slippery heat, his hips slapping against your ass—fangs sinking into your pretty neck while you withered under him, scratching angry red lines down his back.

Some nights he'd wake up with his cum soaked into the sheets, a large wet spot blooming where his cock once tented the fabric. On other nights he had to finish himself off before he could even think about going back to sleep.

That night had been no different.

He spits in his hand and palmed himself, tugging and tugging on his cock, hair a mess and head buried in his pillow, till he came. It was hot and moist, his cum leaking through the cracks of his fingers, dripping over his abdomen.

It was messy and it was quick, but he'd do it again and again for as long as you were on his mind. 

And lately, you were always on his mind. 

...

"A date?"

Miguel scrutinized your profile with narrowed red eyes, processing the information like one of his high-tech computers. He blinked slowly, flaring his nose. He felt his skin rise in temperature, his blood steadily reaching a boiling point.

"Mhm," you confirmed, popping a small green grape into your mouth, "he asked me yesterday. Wants to go out tomorrow." Your legs swung back and forth against the ledge of the rooftop of HQ, cradling a white ceramic bowl in your lap filled with the sweet fruit.

"And you're….entertaining it?" Miguel snorted with a shake of his head, keeping his eyes trained on the city below. Cars whizzed by late into the night, lights beaming into the dark sky to the point where not a single star was visible. 

"Why not?" You shrugged, offering him the bowl. He grunted, declining it with a push of his hand, ignoring your frown. Grapes were his favorite but he’d lost his appetite suddenly. "He seems harmless, no?" 

Miguel shrugged in return, "It interferes with protocol."

"Oh please," you sucked your teeth, "didn't you go out with one of the spider-women? Jenna?"

"Eso no cuenta. It was brief." 

"What? Of course, it counts! You dated her for like four months!"

"You kept track?" He shot back, effectively silencing you, your lips forming a tight line.

"That's beside the point." You pouted.

"Like I said," Miguel waved his hand about, dismissing the comment, "brief." 

“I dunno, she seemed really into you.”

“Hm.”

It was a waste of time really. Jenna was nice enough, a smart girl—decent in bed. She knew his coffee order and was almost as serious in her demeanor as he was. But there was one little issue. She wasn’t you. 

She didn't have your smile or your stupid humor. She didn't do that cute little thing you do when you poke your tongue out in thought. She didn't stay up late with him at HQ as you did, needlessly pouring over work just so he wouldn't feel alone. 

When he fucked her all he’d see was your face, imagining what it’d be like having you under him, how your features would twist in the throes of pleasure, back arched, and tight pussy soaking his cock. He’d be drunk on the thought, cumming inside someone who couldn’t give him what he truly wanted. Just a body in his bed. 

His standards were all fucked because of you. You with your pretty eyes and blinding smile. And what did he ever do about it? Nothing. He did nothing but watch you slip farther from his grasp. 

“Well, anyway,” you interrupted his thoughts, popping another grape in your mouth, “What could go wrong? He seems nice enough.”

What could go wrong? What could go wrong? Miguel could think of various ways it could go wrong. He hadn’t even had the time to do a proper background check on the guy (lies—Lyla did an initial background check when Jessica first brought him in, but still, Miguel preferred to do it himself this time around). He didn’t trust him, and he sure as hell didn’t trust him being around you.

"He's a fucking dork." Miguel reasoned stupidly. 

You let out the tiniest huff of amusement. "And you're not?" 

"His mind is literally stuck in the 1950s." 

"Not all of us were lucky enough to be born in the future, Mig," You threw a grape at him, giggling when it bounced off his forehead, "besides, aren't men from the 1950s supposed to be more…chivalrous?" Miguel was unimpressed.

"So you want him to open doors for you? Is that it? Because they open automatically now."

"That's not what I meant!" You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“What do you even see in him?” He challenged, watching you ponder for a moment, biting your lip in hesitation.

“I dunno. Something to fill the loneliness, I guess.” You mumbled, fiddling with the bowl in your lap. Miguel whipped his head to regard your somber features, an ache blooming in his chest at your words. The wind picked up and played with your hair, and he had half a mind of tucking a piece of it behind your ear. He shifted his hand quicker than he could process but stopped himself short, deciding to place it over your kneecap to give it a squeeze as if to say I'm here, I'm here, I'm always here.

“It comes with the job, Chiquita,” he said instead, voice soft, “You know this.” 

“But it doesn’t have to be that way,” you countered, “we deserve to be happy.” 

Miguel didn't believe that, not really, anyway. He made a noise of acknowledgment, letting his thumb brush over your knee a final time before removing his hand altogether.

“And you think you’ll be happy with that guy?” He finally asked. 

You shook your head, “I didn’t say that. Just something to…pass the time."

Miguel ran a hand through his hair, “So then why are you even trying? Don’t you see that he’s not—” Good enough. He stopped suddenly, a growl brewing in his throat. Kenneth Conner was definitely not good enough. 

But maybe Miguel O'Hara wasn't either.

He remained eerily quiet, his claws digging into the concrete of the roof ledge, the tips strong enough to penetrate. If you noticed, you didn't mention it, your wide eyes pinned to his face in search of answers he wouldn't give you.

"He's not what, Mig?" You questioned softly, bumping your shoulder against his thick arm.

“Nada. Olvidalo.” He grunted when the silence stretched longer than necessary, the sounds of the street occupying the emptiness between them. “Have fun.” Miguel stood, feet planted firmly on the thin ledge. He walked a few paces along it, testing his balance.

“Wait,” you grabbed his calloused hand, your fingers cold against his boiling skin, “you okay?” Your eyes reflected the colors of the scene in front of them, your face shadowed in purples and yellows from the digital billboards as you seemed to plead with him for something he wasn’t entirely sure of. 

“M’fine.” He said curtly, snatching his hand from your grip. He hopped back down, landing on the rooftop ground gracefully, “I’ll see you later, Chiquita.”

“You’re a bad liar, Miguel O’Hara!” You called after him, following his form as he reached the emergency exit. You turned back to face the city, head dipping low and shoulders sagging in defeat when you thought he wasn’t looking.

He was. And his heart ached.

...

"You've been making that face all day," Lyla commented, hovering over Miguel's shoulder as he leaned back against his swivel chair. 

"Why is everyone always commenting on my face?" He muttered, "Can't help the way I look."

"Nope," Lyla shook her little digital head, "according to my data on human emotions, I calculate that you're feeling melancholic. Am I correct?"

"Melancholic is a bit of a dramatic word." Miguel rubbed his tired eyes, plopping his chin on his hand. Annoyed maybe. Lonely maybe. But not melancholic. That would imply he'd given the date you were currently on too much thought, proving your joking claim earlier that week that he was jealous, which he was not—

"Miguel," Lyla danced around his head before settling in front of him like a little forest sprite, hand on her hips and face bent toward him, "Get up, you're done for the day."

"What are you talking about, I still—"

"Go home. All of this will still be here in the morning." She insisted, shutting down the holographic computers one by one.

"Look, I make the rules here." Miguel pointed a threatening finger at his AI as if that would compel her to stop. 

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm telling you that nothing serious is happening right now. The multiverse can wait a few hours while you sleep. You weren't working on much anyway. Go on, shoo." 

Miguel regretted the day he programmed Lyla to control most aspects of HQ, including electrical circuits. The large ceiling lights turned off one at a time, shrouding him in darkness save for Lyla's bright yellow glow.

"Fine." He sighed heavily, making one final attempt to snatch Lyla as if she even had a physical form.

“Goodnight, Miguel.” Lyla grinned before vanishing.

Miguel had no intention of leaving HQ. He had too much pent-up frustration, and too many circulating thoughts in his mind. What good was going home when the stillness and isolation of the rooftop were calling his name?

He took the easy route, ignoring the emergency stairs in favor of scaling the sides of the building till he reached the very top of it. The view was always breathtaking, the bright colors of the city at night stealing his attention. But not this time. Within seconds of reaching the top, he immediately sensed your presence across the rooftop, your figure sitting at the usual spot on the ledge. 

"Chiquita?” He called out, and you turned to look over your shoulder at him. 

Miguel paused, his heart progressively picking up speed. You looked so stunning it was almost like a slap to the face.

He raked his eyes over you, taking in every little detail he could. Your eyes were rimmed in black, lashes darkened, cheeks rouged and lips plumped with color. Your shoulders were exposed, the rest of you covered in a vibrant red dress, fitted to the contours of your body.

Stunning wouldn’t even begin to describe you.

Miguel swallowed thickly, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stood beside you, choosing to stay below the ledge.

“I was wondering when you'd get here,” you sniffled, letting your nude heels click against one of the metal railings. Upon closer inspection, he noticed your wet eyes, pink nose, and mascara bits dotting under your eyes. 

You've been crying.

Miguel's chest tightened, jaw tensing. His eyes glowed blood red in the moonlight.

"What happened?" He demanded, "Where is he? Did he do something to you?" He began pacing the rooftop, muttering to himself, "I'll kill him, I swear I'll kill him—"

"Miguel—"

"Where is he?" He repeated slowly, nose flared and fangs bared for you to see. You paused, your eyes wide as you watched him transform. You rarely saw him that way, the claws and fangs coming out whenever he was truly in a rage, usually when dealing with troublemakers and anomalies.

"Back home, probably." You quietly answered.

Miguel knew exactly where home was. Earth 5068. He could get there easily, just a few taps of his watch could open a portal and he'd be there in no time. He'd find him, beat his fucking ass—

"Mig, please," you pleaded, watching him pace a hole into the ground, "It's fine, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. This guy made you fucking cry and I'm supposed to be okay with that?" Miguel's suit rippled in the darkness, the blues, and reds glowing over his toned body as if in tune with his chaotic emotions.

"Ugh, just drop it please," you whined, rubbing at your nose, "s'not a big deal."

Miguel stopped his pacing, stomping over with a grunt. Without hesitation he pinched your chin between his large fingers in a tight hold, forcing you to look at him. You sitting on the ledge allowed him to have direct eye contact with you, the railing giving you a boost. You tried to hide away, embarrassed. He was having none of that.

"Chiquita," He tried again, his tone shifting significantly as he searched your face, mapping out every detail he could, "tell me what happened. Please." You closed your eyes, your tongue darting out to lick your lips.

"You were right," you took a breath and paused, waiting for a snarky remark but when none came you continued, "his mind is literally stuck in the 1950s, Mig. Said spider-women aren't normal, that we need to stay at home and leave it to the…men." You scoffed, and Miguel could almost feel your skin burn with rage at the sheer lunacy of the retelling. "Said I'm too pretty to be in the streets saving anyone." Miguel remained quiet, letting you simmer out your emotions. He so desperately wanted to cradle your face in his hand— to brush his thumb over your cheekbone and swipe off the tacky streak of tears. His words were useless now more than ever.

"He's a fucking asshole," you continued, ripping yourself away from his hold just to pinch the bridge of your nose—a habit you definitely picked up from Miguel.

"I could've told you that," he grunted, crossing his arms. Not the best thing to offer. You turned to glare viciously at him, something akin to a spicy kitten.

"Shut up," you hissed, "you're an asshole, too," you pushed him out of the way with a hand to his chest, shifting your body to hop off the ledge. He watched you pace this time, your pencil heels clicking against the ground so loudly he thought you'd crack the cement in your fury. “Had some things to say about you, too, ya know.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“He doesn’t like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” 

“Said you’re a giant control freak with a big mouth and an annoying voice."

Miguel pursed his lips before grunting. "That...might have some validity—"

"—So I punched him." You interjected. Miguel blinked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“...You punched him?” It came out more like a statement rather than a question. You stopped your anxious pacing and nodded, awkwardly standing there, unable to look at him.

“Broke his nose," you were fuming, absentmindedly rubbing your sore knuckles. Miguel’s keen eyes briefly caught a glimpse of the bruise forming over your skin, swirls of purple and blue indicating it was a hell of a punch. Pride bloomed within him, his skin prickling with arousal at the thought of you socking Spider-Grease in the face.

"No one gets to talk shit about you but me.” You mumbled with a certain possessiveness in your inflection, eyes downcast, your exposed pedicured toes robbing him of your full attention. You were pensive, fingers twitching at your sides.

“Oh yeah?” Miguel couldn't help the grin tugging on his lips, taking a tentative step forward as if worried he’d frighten you away. You looked at him, sizing him up with a twitch of your brow before stomping over, the little thing you were.

"You're an idiot, y’know that?" You jammed your finger into his hard chest with every word, a cute pout forming over your lips without you even realizing it. "A stupid fuckin' idiot!" Miguel stopped you before you could stab him with your finger again (why was that painful?), holding your wrist in a loose grip in complete panic, watching how your face fell apart, fresh tears ready to pour from your troubled eyes. “Y-you think I really wanted to go on that date?”

"Hey—hey, what are you talking about?"

You struggled in his grip, successfully yanking your wrist away to drag your fingers under your eyes in a pathetic way of salvaging your makeup. You sighed, shoulders caving in and hands covering your face before you took a pitiful breath. 

"For a genius...you’re pretty stupid." You eventually said, your eyes fluttering when Miguel finally took your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him while his thumbs wiped at the tears spilling over your cheeks. 

“Chiquita…”

“Miguel,” you began, holding on to each of his wrists, “I’ve always wanted you. It’s always been you.” Taken aback by your confession, he shifted a hand from your face to the nape of your neck, his fingertips gliding over your pulse point.

“So you were trying to get me jealous?” Miguel murmured, slowly backing you up until your back hit the ledge, his hands snaking down to grip your hips.

“Mhm,” you breathed, gasping when he lifted you up with ease, setting you on the ledge carefully so that you were eye to eye with him once again. He pushed your knees apart, situating himself between them snuggly. His face hovered so close to yours that he could feel your breath come out in small puffs over his skin, “did it work?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, his large hands stabilizing you, caging you in, “yeah, it fuckin' did.” He let his lips skim over yours, teasing you a bit before pressing forward to kiss you gently. It was better than he could’ve ever imagined. Your lips were soft and malleable, pushing against his eagerly—wantonly, even. You tasted like peaches, the fruity lip balm you wore overwhelming his senses. Your hands moved up his toned chest before wrapping around his shoulders as he pressed his lips harder against yours, desperate to devour you whole. 

You moaned when he nipped your bottom lip, your fingers tangling through the dark waves of his hair, scratching his scalp. A groan rumbled in his chest, brewing as you continued, lightly tugging at the strands. Your hands felt like fire over his suit, as if hot enough to sear through to his skin. Miguel held you close, your chest flushed against his as he littered you with kisses.

“It’s always been you, too.” He professed quietly into your hair, mumbling as he smoothed down the unruly strands tossed around by the wind. 

“Hm?” You breathed, your nose pressed into his neck, inhaling deeply to secure his scent.

“I said,” he pulled back, tipping your head up by the chin, “It’s always been you, Chiquita.” 

...

He could’ve taken you on the rooftop of HQ. Would’ve. 

You had begged him for it, demanded it of him, even. But he didn’t. He took you home, his home, pressing you into his dark satin sheets like he’d always wanted.

You were pliable, like putty in his hands. 

Miguel wasted no time, seating you on the edge of his bed and getting on his knees in front of you. 

He pulled down the neckline of your red dress, pulling it off completely with your help. Your skin prickled immediately, nipples hardening like tiny pebbles once exposed to the chill air of his bedroom. His mouth watered, dipping his head to mouth at your breasts. You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as he nipped and sucked on each pert nipple, lapping at them and covering the sensitive flesh with his warm spit.

“I can suck on these all day,” he muttered over your flesh, “would you let me, Chiquita?” You squealed and sighed under his touch, his lips curling over a bud again to give it a noisy suck.

“Damn, Miguel,” you whispered, head thrown back as he continued to worship your nipples, sucking and tugging on each one till you were a withering mess in his hands, “fuuuuck, that feels amazing.” You held his head to your chest, letting him slurp over each bud, tugging them gently with his teeth.

You pulled his head away by his hair, surging forward to give him a sloppy kiss. His bare chest rubbed against your erect nipples, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Lemme taste you,” you begged over his lips, your hands smoothing over his shoulders and down his toned arms, “please, wanna taste you so bad.” 

“Fuck,” Miguel grunted, nodding his head, “yeah, you wanna taste? Go ahead, it’s yours.” There was a gleam in your eyes, a grin stretching over your swollen lips. You grabbed hold of his cock as soon as you both switched positions. You stared at it for a bit, intimidated. It made Miguel flush with arousal—the thought of you worried from the mere size of him. The large tip was wet, precome already beading at the slit, slowly leaving a sticky trail down the length. 

“Chiquita,” he said, bringing you out of whatever daze you had fallen into, “you gonna have a taste?” His cock twitched in your hand and with a determination he’d never seen before, you nodded wordlessly, slowly taking him in your mouth.

Miguel choked, gripping his sheets in a tight fist, the other fighting the urge to weave his fingers into your hair. 

You took as much as you could, letting your spit coat his length before swirling your tongue over the tip and giving it a nice, long suck. His head lolled to the side, his heavy eyes watching you work over him, jerking the part where your mouth couldn’t quite reach. You had tears in your eyes, the tip jamming against the back of your throat making you gag. It was too much. You pulled away with a pop, coughing, and sputtering over the tip.

“Spit on it,” he growled, and you obeyed, letting saliva pool in your mouth before draping it over his extremely hard length. You both watched it run along the shaft, allowing it to soak him completely before you jerked his cock with both hands. “Goodamn,” he groaned, tossing his head back. You grinned, your watery eyes watching how he fought to control himself.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop—” he panted, slapping your hands away as you giggled, lifting you up from under your arms, forcing you over his lap. “Almost made me cum with your hands.” He pressed his brow on yours, holding you close as he fought to catch his breath. 

“You okay?” you whispered, pushing back his sweaty hair, jutting your hips slightly to let his cock glide over slippery folds. You gasped, biting your lip at how hot his length was against your sensitive core. Miguel nodded, capturing your lips in a messy kiss while gripping your hips.

“Ride me.” He grunted, fingers digging into your skin so hard he knew he’d leave marks. Sweat began to build on his hairline, and it only increased when you mewled, lifting yourself to notch his tip at your entrance. You paused, hips in the air, brow still pressed against his, and dick notched in your cunt.

“Miguel,” your voice wavered, your hands gripping his shoulder in a death grip. You pleaded with your eyes when you looked at him, the silent worry etched all over your face. 

“Go, slow,” He cooed, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “Despasito más rico, hm?” You huffed out a tiny laugh, taking in a breath before slowly sinking onto his cock.

You were fucking tight. Unbelievably so. 

“Fucking shit,” Miguel hissed, feeling your walls flutter over his cock as you fought to take him in. You were whining—too big, you’re too fuckin’ big, Miguel—your pussy stretching to its limit. 

“Mmm,” you mewled, sliding down inch by agonizing inch, the heat of your cunt making his cock impossibly harder, “shit.”

You both whined and moaned until you were fully seated, filled to the brim. When you began to slowly bounce on his cock, he snapped his eyes shut immediately, absolute filth flying out of his mouth.

So fuckin’ tight, preciosa—you’re swallowing my cock so good—knew you could do it—goddamn—

He didn’t know what the fuck he was saying. All he knew was that he never wanted you to stop. You covered his cock in your creamy essence, every bounce making an obscene wet noise in the quietness of his bedroom, your juices flowing like a river over his thighs and down to his sheets.

Miguel fell back against the bed, his hands helping you lift off and slam back down.

“Ohhh f-” you whimpered, your pussy getting wetter by the minute. Your breasts bounced, giving him a show as he looked up at you working over him, mesmerized, your faces of pleasure completely etched into his mind.  

“That’s it, Chiquita, doin’ so good for me,” he panted, letting a large hand wander up your sweat-slicked torso, fondling each breast, pinching the nipples. Your mouth parted to release a broken sob. He knew he was hitting deep—so deep in fact that he had you coming thirty seconds later with tears running down your face and eyes screwed shut as your body shook from the pleasure. You clamped down on him, pussy squeezing so tight that it triggered his own orgasm, thrusting as deep as he could while he filled you with cum. 

But that wasn’t the end of it.

He pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, sob after sob, plead after plead.

He had you under him, hips slamming against yours unforgivingly. He had you from behind (he couldn’t wait to spread your ass to watch his cock disappear into your swollen hole). He had you on the floor, your body cushioned by his fluffy carpet.

“I-I’ve wanted this for so long,” Miguel panted over you, your legs draped over his shoulders, folding you in half to rip the sweetest sounds from you, “wanted you for so long—Jesus—you're so wet.” He pulled out his cock, holding it at the base in a fist and slapping it over your puffy cunt. You moaned, stretched under him, sobbing when he put his cock back inside.

“I cant, s’too much,” you whined, holding on to him firmly by the arms. You were painted in his cum, skin covered with his spend, your juices, and spit, a concoction that drove him to the edge over and over and over.

“Yes, you can, baby.” He leaned down to kiss your shoulder and up to your neck before carefully sinking his teeth, just enough to break skin. And that was enough. Your eyes rolled back and your back arched off his mattress as you cried out your pleasure.

He loved seeing you that way, loved how your face twisted and your body withered under his ministrations. It was better than those fucking dreams—better than anything he could have ever conjured up.

When he came for the fifth time that night, he held your limp body close, emptying himself into you, making sure that you took every last drop of him.

And after he cleaned you up and settled with you in his soil sheets, he held you close, your eyes fluttering and your lips quirking into a smile when he whispered in your ear: I'm still gonna kill him.

U know who should be the real villain of spiderverse???

The guy who has to clean all the spider webs.

The whole city is covered with them, the subways, the cars, the tall ass skyscrapers. It's every fucking where and the cleaner is tired.

It's time for his villain arc.

god she is always serving cunt.

i’m screaming

Dealing with Unwanted Attention - The Hashira

An exploration of how the Hashira (+bonus) help you deal with unwanted attention from a neighbour.

Modern!AU!Demon Slayer (and female!reader).

Adult!Hashira (except for Muichiro and Tanjiro and co who are all teens)

Rating: T

Pairings: Nothing explicit but suggestive... (aside from Tengen&wives)

Warning: swearing, some violence/threats, mention of possible stalking (they've been staring at them for a while), slight poisoning, neighbour being a creep, mention of them wanting to watch women make out.Un-beta'd.

Word count: ~ 4800

Notes: Based on true events (mainly the neighbour staring and stopping the reader to confess their feelings). I wasn't planning on writing this in 2nd person pov, but it kept trying to change into it as I wrote, then when I was trying to choose between 2nd and 3rd, my friend chose 2nd and a random wheel picker chose 2nd...so I gave in to the universe. This got long. Enjoy!

Please let me know what you think and if I got the characterizations right. One of my fave lines I've written is in this, see if you can guess lol.

What they arrive to:

You try to be polite to your neighbours. There’s no need to be rude, even if you’d rather be left alone by them, but you didn’t expect it to lead to this. You know the man has been watching you. You could feel his eyes on you when you were outside and he was on his balcony, but you’ve never said more than a thank you to him for holding open the door for you so you’re not entirely sure how you’re in this mess. 

He’s confessing to you. This man that you’ve never officially met until right now, who might actually be younger than you, who is telling you he’s an alcoholic but that he’ll change. For you. How does he think this is appealing? You’re trying to find an exit, you don't want to be completely rude since you live in the same building and you’re likely going to see him again, but you want out. Now.

The reactions:

Sanemi

“Who the fuck is this?”

You let out a breath at the voice, relief setting in deep in your bones. “Sanemi,” you turn with a smile, grateful for his timing. 

He’s not looking at you. His eyes are on the man standing in front of you, who’s still trying to reach out to touch you. Again. Sanemi moves, stepping forwards until he’s in front of you, blocking the man from your view. He stares at you for a moment, taking stock of the relief he can practically feel radiating from you. “Are you ready to go?” he asks. You don’t have any plans, but you don’t care. You’ll follow him anywhere right now. 

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Tch. You should be,” he says. He sounds irritated but you know him better by now. 

“Excuse me,” the man behind him interrupts. “We’re in the middle of something.”

You watch as Sanemi’s expression shifts into something slightly murderous as he slowly turns to look at the other man. “Did I fucking ask?” The man steps back and Sanemi takes the motion to move forward, getting into his personal space like he tried to get into yours. “You know him?” Sanemi directs the question to you despite not looking back. 

“He lives here.” 

“I’m introducing myself,” the man says. “We’ll be friends.”

“Friends?” Sanemi scoffs. “She has enough friends.” He steps forward again, forcing the man back. “You ever make her uncomfortable again or even try to touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands, got it?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Good. Fucking creep,” Sanemi turns back to you, ignoring him. “Come on.” He waits for you to move, keeping himself between you as he leads you away from the building. “He ever bothers you again, you tell me.”

You grin up at him. “I will. Thank you.” 

“You just got lucky I showed up.”

“...why did you come by?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Shinobu

“My my, what’s this?” 

You turn to look at the voice, relief setting in that at least you won’t have to do this alone. Shinobu doesn’t offer you a hug, but she stands next to you, glancing at the man before looking back at you. “New friend?” Shinobu asks, a light smile on her face. 

You know better than to assume that your friend is being polite. “A neighbour,” you confirm, ignoring the flash of anger you catch on the man’s face. Great. Another thing to deal with. 

Shinobu hums lightly before she turns to the man. “Is there something you needed?” 

The man blatantly looks over her before smiling. “I am introducing myself. Hopefully, we can be friends. All of us.” He is either unaware of the danger the small woman presents or ignores it. Either one marks him as an idiot. 

“Oh? Are you incapable of making friends?” 

He blinks in surprise and you know he’s unsure whether or not to take offence. Shinobu has a way of saying things in her light voice that most men don’t realize are as cruel as she intends them to be. “What?”

“Are you unable to make friends?” she asks again, smile still in place. “I assume that’s why you’re cornering a woman who’s clearly not interested. It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” 

“Pathetic?” he catches the insult and scowls at your friend. 

“Yes,” Shinobu nods. “Does that make you angry? There are ways to fix it, that don’t involve my friend.” 

“I’m not pathetic! I was–” he’s cut off as he reaches forward. Shinobu’s hand grabs his wrist before he can reach you. He tries to pull back and frowns slightly as her nails scratch him as he pulls away. “I was introducing myself,” he continues. 

“Then you’re done and now you can leave,” Shinobu nods. He looks as though he’s going to protest but he sways slightly before blinking rapidly. 

“Did you do something?” you ask Shinobu, who looks at you innocently. You know better though. 

“Hmm…it might be a reaction to the latest experiment. Perhaps it got on my nails. I’m sorry,” she smiles at the man. “You should be fine with some rest. It’s not nearly enough to be fatal.” 

The man pales. “What?”

“You should go,” Shinobu says. “Unless you’re willing to be a test subject. I’m sure no one will miss you if you’ve cornered women before. Perhaps you should be more careful, no?” 

The man basically runs from her and you watch as he leaves. 

“What was really on your nails?” you ask, looking at Shinobu. 

“A mild paralytic. He’ll survive,” she says. “I came to ask if you wanted to join me for dinner?”

“After that? Absolutely.” 

Gyomei

Someone calls your name and before you can even turn to look, you see the man in front of you blanch. You know the voice and it’s entertaining to see firsthand how intimidated someone can be by your friend behind you. Especially when you know that he’s the kindest one of you all. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Gyomei,” you greet warmly. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see if you would join me for the afternoon. Are you busy?” 

You look at your neighbour who is still staring at the tall man in shock. 

“Oh,” Gyomei says. “My apologies for interrupting.” He turns to the man. “I am Himejima Gyomei.” 

Your neighbour introduces himself and you try not to be annoyed at how he’s stepping back now that someone else is here. Especially when it’s another man. “Are you friends?” your neighbour asks. 

Gyomei looks down at you. “I am very lucky to have her in my life.” It’s not an answer and you have a feeling he’s done it intentionally. Whatever. You’re not going to complain if it gets you out of this. 

You smile up at him. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you say. You mean it too. Gyomei is a calming presence in your life, someone steadfast that you know you can rely on. He rests his hand on your shoulder and you relax under it. You’re safe with him. 

He turns back to your neighbour. “Please, continue your conversation. I can wait.” 

“No,” your neighbour says. “It’s fine. I didn’t realize…” he trails off before wandering away without saying goodbye. 

“Are you alright?” Gyomei asks again. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I am now.” 

Obanai and Mitsuri (because ofc they're together)

You notice when his gaze shifts from you to something behind you. Then you hear it.

“You’re outside! Did you know we were coming?” 

You turn to see Mitsuri heading towards you, Obanai behind her, his eyes already on your neighbour who is staring…at Mitsuri. You turn and move, just enough to block his view. Mitsuri doesn’t have a problem showing off any of her assets, but that doesn’t mean your creep of a neighbour could stare. Ew. 

Misturi crashes into you with a hug, as though it’s been years since you’ve last seen each other and not days. You hug back just as tight, grateful for the company. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

“We came to take you out!” Misturi pulls back and motions towards Obanai. “We missed you!” 

You weren’t sure if that was the truth but a quick glance at Obanai shows that he’s moved to stand between you two and your neighbour. He nods toward you and you can’t help but smile back. 

“Where are we going?” you ask. 

“Dinner,” Obanai says. 

“Excuse me!” your neighbour cuts in, moving to the side so that Obanai is no longer blocking him. "Hey, we were talking.”

“Oh!” Mitsuri turns to face him. “I’m sorry!” 

Obanai glares at the interruption. “Who are you?”

“Her neighbour. We were just getting introduced.” He gives his name again, this time reaching for Mitsuri’s hand. He does not get far. 

“You often touch people without them wanting you to?” Obanai asks, his grip tightening on the man’s wrist. Your neighbour tries to pull back but is unable to. 

“He was just introducing himself,” Mitsuri says. “Weren’t you?”

“Of course!” Your neighbour says. “Can’t people be friendly?”

“No.” 

You have to hide a smile as Mitsuri giggles at Obanai’s response. 

“Go ahead,” Obanai says. “I’d like a word with your neighbour.” He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes on the man whose wrist he’s still holding. 

“Okay!” Mitsuri grabs your hand and starts pulling you away. “Nice to meet you! Don’t be too rough, Obanai, okay?” Once they’re far enough away, Misturi lets go and looks at you. “Are you alright? You looked uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling softly. “He came out of nowhere. I’m glad you were there.” 

“Don’t worry, Obanai will let him know you’re not interested. Besides, you have us!” 

You hug Mitsuri again with one arm. “I do!” 

Muichiro

You step back as your neighbour moves forward, reaching for your hand again. Why does he keep trying to touch you?

“I don’t think she likes that,” a voice comes from the side. Both of you look and your face lights up when you see who it is. 

“Muichiro! What are you doing here?”

His head tilts slightly as he looks at you. “You said I could come any time.” 

You smile slightly as you nod. “You’re right, I did.” The kid was always welcome but it was rare to see him without his twin. “Where’s Yuichiro?” 

“He said he’d come later. He thinks he’s figured out a move that will beat me in shogi.” 

“Is this your brother?” your neighbour cuts in. He smiles at the younger boy and introduces himself. Muichiro ignores him. 

“Are you going out?” he asks. “Can we join you?”

“Yes,” your neighbour adds. “We can walk with you. Get to know each other better.” You recoil from him reaching for you again and step back.

“Not you,” Muichiro cuts in. “You are not invited.” 

“What?” 

“You’re not invited,” the kid says again. “I don’t think you should touch her anymore. She doesn’t like it.” 

“Listen, brat, no one asked you.” 

“Hey!” you cut in, scowling. Why was it always easier to defend someone else than it was to defend yourself? “He’s right. You can’t just invite yourself. Thank you, but I’m not interested.” 

He reaches for you again but Muichiro knocks him over as the boy moves forward. “She said she’s not interested.” Muichiro stares at the man on the ground for a moment. “You shouldn’t bother women who aren’t interested.” He looks back at you. “Should we call someone?”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Come on, let’s go meet Yuichiro on the way. I’ll buy dinner.” You both leave the man to pick himself up and you silently pray he gets the hint. 

Giyu

You almost don't hear your name being called. The lack of reaction doesn’t stop Giyu from moving forward and standing next to you. 

You look up at him in relief. “Giyu!”

“I called,” he says. He glances at your neighbour who is watching you. “Are you busy?” 

“No,” you shake your head, hoping that he’ll be able to at least get you out of this. Even as hopeless as he was socially, you know that he’ll pick up on your hints. You’ve known each other long enough. 

“We’re in the middle of a conversation,” your neighbour says, looking unimpressed that you’re dismissing him. 

Giyu looks at him before turning back to you. “Are you hungry? I wanted to talk.” 

“Sure!” 

“Excuse me,” your neighbour interrupts again. 

Giyu gives you an unimpressed look but turns to face him. “Can I help you?”

“You’re interrupting. I was just getting to know your friend.”

Giyu stares at the man for a moment. “I don’t think she wants to know you.”

Your neighbour’s jaw drops. “Who are you to say that?”

“Her friend.” Giyu looks at you again. “Do you want to stay?”

You shake your head slightly, just enough to convey your desire to leave. You might have to never come back. Or maybe you could convince him to move. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“There’s no need to be rude!” your neighbour snaps.

“She’s not rude,” Giyu says. “It was clear she wasn’t interested before. You should pay attention.” You try not to laugh at Giyu of all people pointing out ignoring social cues. You adore him more for it. “Let’s go.” 

“Hey!” your neighbour reaches out, aiming for Giyu’s shoulder to stop him from leading you away. He doesn’t make it. Giyu steps to the side, turning as he grabs your neighbour’s hand and directs the motion straight to the ground. 

You can’t stop the gasp at the sound of him hitting the ground. 

Giyu holds him there for a moment. “Are you done?” he asks. He finally releases him and steps back. “You should keep your hands to yourself.” Giyu looks at you again. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “We can.” 

He offers you his hand to step over your neighbour and leads you away. “If he bothers you again, call us.”

“I will.” 

Kyojuro

Someone shouts your name and as soon as you hear it, you calm down. Things are going to be okay. You turn towards the voice and grin. “Kyo!” 

“I hoped you were home!” He strides forwards towards the two of you. He looks between you both. “Am I interrupting?”

“No!” you exclaim as your neighbour says “yes.” 

Kyojuro looks at you both before he nods. “I see. My apologies regardless.” He smiles at your neighbour and offers his hand. “I am Rengoku Kyojuro. Who are you?” 

You watch as your neighbour introduces himself almost warily as if he’s not sure what to make of the situation. 

Kyojuro turns to you, stepping closer and smiling down. “Are you free today?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Continue your conversation, I will wait.” He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face your neighbour. The man looks stunned to be pinned by Kyojuro’s gaze. You know the feeling but you wait to see if he’s going to continue to confess under your friend’s stare. 

“I uh…” your neighbour glances at Kyojuro again before he looks at you. “As I was saying, I want to know you more! If you don’t like that I drink, I’ll stop.”

You look at Kyojuro whose expression hasn’t changed but you can see the tension in his form. You wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him like you do. “I heard you,” you say carefully. It’s safer now, you feel, to decline his interest outright with someone else with you. “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even given me a chance,” your neighbour says. You don’t want to. “We could just spend time together.”

“No thanks,” you say, shifting closer to Kyojuro without thinking. 

Your neighbour steps forward, reaching for your hand again. “I’m not trying–” 

“She has made herself clear,” Kyojuro interrupts, his hand on the man’s wrist, preventing him from touching you. “Do not dishonour yourself further and press for her attention.” 

“Dishonour? I’m just trying to ask her out!”

“And she refused,” Kyojuro says, still staring at the man. “I fear that if she should accept, the flame of her heart would be drowned by the weight of your desire. I cannot accept that!” 

“I didn’t ask you,” your neighbour snarls. 

“You did not! But I am here regardless and thankful for it, if only to protect her from your refusal to hear her disinterest. Leave now.”

“You can’t just–”

“I can! I trust that you will not embarrass yourself further. Should I hear that you continue to push or attempt to take advantage, I will not be as forgiving as I am now.” 

The man stares at him for a moment before Kyojuro finally lets go. Your neighbour stumbles back slightly. He glares at you both, rubbing at the wrist Kyojuro held before he walks off, heading to the building. Kyojuro watches until the man disappears into the building before he turns to you. “Are you alright?” 

You move without really thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” 

He pauses for a moment before he brings his arms around you, holding you against him. “It’s alright,” he says softly. “I am just glad I was able to be here.” 

You pull back. “I appreciate the help. What brings you around?”

“I wanted to see you, of course!” He lets go as you move away. “As you are not busy, would you be willing to join me? I have something I wanted to show you!”

“Of course! Let’s go!”

Tengen

An arm drapes itself over your shoulder. If you weren’t familiar with the weight of it, the scent of the man who pulls you into him, you would have recoiled. “What’s this then?”

You look up at the built man who towers over the rest of you. “Tengen! What are you doing here?” 

“Came to see you, of course! Who’s this?” Despite the cheerful tone, he doesn’t take his eyes off your neighbour. 

“My neighbour,” you say after a moment as you realize the man in question is still looking at Tengen. 

“Hm,” Tengen leans down, putting his face next to yours and ignoring your neighbour. “You miss me?” He grins as he asks, eyes on you. 

“Didn’t I just see you the other day with the others?” you quip back, used to his flirting.

“Who are you?” the man finally speaks up.

Tengen glances over at him and you can practically see him considering if he wants to deal with the man. He straightens, keeping his arm around you, and grins. “Uzui Tengen! Flashiest man around and the love of her life!”

“You’re not the love of my life,” you say automatically.

“I could be,” Tengen says. He leans down closer again and his voice lowers. “Don’t you want to give us a chance?” 

“We’re talking,” your neighbour cuts in again. “In fact, if she’s not interested, it’s all the more reason she should say yes to going out with me.” 

“I would think that the she in question should make the choice,” you mutter. 

“Why would she date someone as unflashy as you?” Tengen asks, looking unimpressed. 

Your neighbour seems taken aback by the question. “What? Why wouldn’t she?” 

Tengen makes a point of looking the man up and down. “You have no flair! No flamboyance! In fact, it’s very unflashy of you to keep ignoring her like this while you talk about her, right Angel?” 

“Hmm,” you nod in agreement. 

Tengen tightens his grip slightly “Do you want to go out with this boring man?” He asks. 

“No.”

“There you have it. Now,” Tengen leans towards your neighbour. “In fact, I don’t think you should bother her again and if you do, well…I’ll show you how flashy I can be.” 

The man swallows slightly, as though he’s suddenly reminded of Tengen’s size. “Uh sure,” your neighbour says. He glances at you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get a chance to respond because Tengen leads you away, arm still around you and heads towards your building. 

“You’re not going out anywhere, are you? Thought we could order in. Unless you want to go out. Karaoke?” 

“Are we going to invite the girls?”

He grins at you. “Of course!”

Bonus!

Tengen & his wives!

You hear the squeal first and then Suma crashes into you. You hug the woman back, used to how affectionate she is. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask,  completely distracted from the situation with your neighbour as you look to see Makio and Hinatsuru heading towards you.

“We missed you!” Suma says, pulling back. 

“Will you let her go?” Makio demands, yanking Suma back as they get close. “You’re interrupting!” 

“Sorry!” Suma lets go. “I was just excited!”

“It has been a while since we’ve seen you,” Hina agrees. She looks over at your neighbour before turning back to you. “Sorry for interrupting. We hope you don’t mind that we dropped by unannounced.” 

“Not at all,” you smile at the three women that now surround you. Makio has shifted, taking point to be in between you all and your neighbour. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I bet,” Makio says. There’s a brief moment where you all communicate silently with each other. The slight widening of the eyes, the nod and shifting of the shoulders. The way friends have communicated about the people around them for ages without words. It’s enough that the three women are all aware that you’re uncomfortable and are grateful for their help. 

“Excuse me.”

They all turn to look at your neighbour who looks delighted at the sudden prospect of more women to interact with. It probably helps that all three of the new ones are gorgeous, well-endowed and wearing low-cut tops. 

“What?” Makio asks, unimpressed. Suma shifts slightly to stand closer to you. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says before introducing himself. The women all stare at the hand he offers but none of them reach to take it. He pauses before finally dropping it, but he steps closer. “We were just getting to know each other,” he says. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” 

No, you think. You don’t get a chance to answer though because Makio turns her back on the man and faces you again. “Have you eaten?” Makio asks. 

“Oh yeah!” Suma grabs your arm and you feel a rush of affection for these women who have shown up and are trying to help. “If you have, we could get dessert!” 

“You’re not busy, are you?” Hina asks.

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Hey!” your neighbour cuts in again. “There’s no reason to be a bitch. You could have just said you were into girls. I wouldn’t have minded…especially if I can watch.”

Your jaw drops open and you can see the way the others nearly shake with anger. Before any of them can step forward, your attention is drawn behind him as Tengen appears.

“Oh ho! What’s this?” His hand slaps down on your neighbour's shoulder. You can see his grip tighten. “I didn’t just hear you call them something so unflashy, did I?” 

“Tengen!” You all call out, your voice tinged with a little more relief. As glad as you are for the company of the girls, you don’t want to subject them to your neighbour more than you have to. 

Tengen grins at the four of you before focusing back on the man he’s holding. “Now, what were you saying?” 

“What? Nothing!” 

“Liar!” Makio snaps. 

“He called her a bitch, Tengen,” Hina says softly. She loops her arm around yours on the side that doesn’t have Suma. 

“He said he wanted to watch!” Suma adds. 

“Oh really?” Tengen’s eyes narrow. “Perhaps you girls should go ahead and I’ll catch up…after I teach this one some manners.” 

“Good,” Makio nods.

“We’ll let you know where we decide to go,” Hina says softly. “Come on.” The girls usher you away from the building where Tengen is still keeping your neighbour in place. The man looks slightly terrified now but Tengen waves you all off with a grin. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Suma exclaims, still keeping her arm around yours as they walk. 

“Yeah,” Makio agrees. “How long has that creep been bothering you?”

“He’s been staring for a while but just came out of nowhere today, telling me he liked me and wanted to go out. He said he’s an alcoholic but would stop for me.” You see the look the women give each other. 

“Maybe you should stay with us,” Hina suggests. “Just for a bit.”

“Yeah!” 

You laugh slightly. “I don’t know. I’ll have to go home eventually, right? I’m sure he got the point.” 

An arm wraps around your shoulder as Tengen appears, inserting himself between you and Suma. He laughs as you both adjust to the new position. “He sure did!” He towers over all of you but Tengen has never felt threatening. At least not to you. “He won’t be bothering you anymore. And if he’s still staring, call us. We’ll deal with him,” he promises. 

You smile up at him. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank us,” Hinatsuru says softly. “We’re happy to help.”

“Yeah!” Makio adds. “He’s lucky Tengen showed up before I got to him.”

“I don’t know about that…” Tengen says, “but I know I am with such flashy girls!”

AND

Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inosuke

The man is holding your hand in a light grip that tightens as you try to pull away. You’re trying not to be rude but his hand is clammy and you never wanted to be touched. You have a feeling you’re going to have to snap and then deal with the repercussions later. 

Your attention shifts to the sound of feet hitting the pavement and a familiar voice calling your name. You yank your hand from your neighbour before turning and moving back, managing to avoid Inosuke’s attempt at a tackle. You shift and watch as Zenitsu falls, his attempts to hug you failing. You’re used to these kids and at this point, it’s a game when you meet. 

Zenitsu whines at your avoidance. 

“Haha!” Inosuke slides to a stop and turns back to you. “You won’t avoid me again!” 

“Stop tackling her!” 

You ignore Zenitsu and Inosuke as they start arguing and turn to Tanjiro and Nezuko as they stop next to you. “What are you all doing here?” 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Tanjiro says softly. “We were passing by and saw you. We thought we’d stop and say hi. I tried to get them to stop from running at you. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” you wave him off. “I’m glad to see you.” Nezuko moves forward and offers a hug and you hug back, noticing the way Tanjiro moves between you and your neighbour. Your gaze softens. He’s such a good kid. They all are. 

“It’s been awhile,” Tanjiro agrees. 

“Excuse me,” your neighbour cuts in, moving around Tanjiro. “Didn’t realize you were so popular with children. Are you related?” 

“No,” you say, not willing to give more than that. 

“Who are you?” Inosuke shoves himself between you and your neighbour. You can see the man trying to move around the kid, but Inosuke has a way of making himself known. “Fight me!” he demands. 

“What? I’m not going to fight a kid.” Your neighbour looks for you but you let go of Nezuko who raises her eyebrows, silently asking if you’re okay. 

You nod back, smiling at the girl. 

“You think you’ll beat me?” Inosuke says. “You couldn’t touch me. I’m the greatest!” 

“Who is that?” Zenitsu asks quietly, coming up to your side now that Inosuke is distracted. “Do you know him?”

“He’s my neighbour,” you say. “He was just…introducing himself.” You wince as you say it. 

“You didn’t seem comfortable. Do you want to leave?” Tanjiro asks, focused on you as Inosuke drags your neighbour to more open space in his demands to fight. “We can walk you to where you’re going. Or inside,” he offers. 

“Thanks.” You smile in relief, even if they’re just kids, you’re grateful you’re no longer alone. 

“Fuck off!” All of your attention turns to the sound of your neighbour yelling at Inosuke. “You freak!” 

“Excuse me?” You move around the children, striding towards your neighbour. To hell with being polite. “What did you just say?” He turns to you, surprise crossing his features as though he’s forgotten you were there. 

“I–I was just–”

“Just what?” You snap. “He’s a kid and you’re swearing at him?”

“He’s not leaving me alone! I’m trying to talk to you!”

“I don’t want to talk!” You stride forward, aware of the eyes on you. “I haven’t shown the slightest interest and you kept pushing and trying to touch me!” His eyes widen but you don’t stop. “They’re fifteen! And they have more sense and observation than you do. You don’t treat people like that, even if they’re annoying and you don’t keep pushing your attention on to someone who doesn’t want it!” 

“I’m sorry,” he reaches for you again.

“Fuck off!” you use his own words against him. “Come on, Inosuke, don’t waste your time fighting him. You’d likely win in seconds. Let’s go.” You turn and walk back toward the others. 

“You’re so cool!” Zenitsu cheers as you return.

“That was impressive,” Tanjiro agrees. “Hopefully he’ll listen.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll come back and show him how weak he is!” 

You smile at Inosuke and reach out to ruffle his hair. He ducks out of the way. “Thanks. Come on, let’s get out of here. You guys want to walk me to my friends?”

“Yeah!” 

“Let’s go!”

“I’m going to get there first!” 

“What!? Wait for us!”

taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse 

Injury

How would the yandere Hashira react to their Darling (who's also a hasira) coming home severely Injured and they were trying to hide it cause they knew if they were seen that injured their "partner" would force them to retire?

Kyujuro

“Where are they?” The loud voice made you freeze in mid step, knowing that you were busted. Of course Shinobu would send a letter out to Kyujuro, not knowing of the tendencies he has when it comes to you. No one knew, because no one believed you. Kyujuro was the perfect Angel, the perfect man. Who would ever believe anything he has done to you?

“Ky-“

“Firelily.” He was pissed, you knew that. His eyes didn’t hesitate to scan over your body; seeing the bandages covering your body. When you tried to look over at one of the butterfly girls for help, his hand moved his haori to block them from you. “We talked about this.”

He said with the sweet smile on his face, hiding the anger easily. It terrified you; wondering what awaited for you. Silently cussing Shinobu for sending him a letter, but know she was just wanting to help. “I-I know but-“

“Do you know what I would have done if I lost you?” You flinched at hearing him, looking down at hearing the concern in his voice. Even with him treating you awfully, you could never deny that he cares for you. Truly he does, just in his toxic way. “I thought-“

“You thought? Baby, love of my life, this…” He stepped closer to you, lifting your chin to stare at him. “This is why you don’t think. This is why you need to depend on me and only me. I can take care of you, I can protect you.”

“K-“

“There’s no arguing. Let’s go. Now.”

Shinobu

“Oh sweetheart.” You had no where to go but to her place; she had all the medical supplies and you could die without getting your injuries checked. Tears slipped over your face, staring at the woman who was giving you that innocent smile and letting you know just how much you were in trouble.

“I-I-“

“Hush now sweetheart; we don’t want you to waste your precious energy.” Shinobu had already decided that she was going to take you out of commission when you returned for the fact she didn’t like to be separated from you. But this… This made her realize just how much you needed to stop fighting demons.

You tried to struggle when she wrapped you in her arms, ignoring her sweet shushing. There was a sharp point to the back of your neck; sedatives kicking into your system while you began to slump forward in her arms. “There there, rest easy my love. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

Giyuu

This is the one that you could hide the easiest from. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to show his feelings; all the craziness is just bottling up more and more because he doesn’t know how to release it until it just cracks.

Like now.

“B-babe…?” He whispered, lowering the sword from his hand. There was a crash that made him panic in thinking there was a demon, but it was only you on the kitchen. Blue eyes were focused on the wounds crawling up your skin; poking out from poorly wrapped bandages. “It’s n-“

“Don’t… Dont tell me that this is nothing!!” He exclaimed, raising his voice and making you jump lightly. You’ve never heard him yell at you before, the sword digging into the wooden floor as he marched over to you. You backed up, trying to put the chair between the two of you and grabbing back on the cabinet. After being taken and forced to live with the hashira, this… this is the time you’ve honestly felt nervous of him. You’ve never seen him act like this before so you didn’t know how to predict what he was gonna do.

“Why did you even go?” He demanded, putting his hands on the table. You opened your mouth to answer, but Giyuu knew you. He knew what your answer would be. “Who gives a fuck about those people? You… You are the only thing I care about! I don’t care if all those people die!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A hashira, a demon slayer, not caring about the lives at stake. Giyuu looked at your wounds again. “The thought of losing you… No… I won’t…”

He shook his head; making his way over to you and grabbed your arm before you could stop him. He tightened his arm when you tried to wiggle out of his grasp while he pulled you back to the bedrooms. “You’re no longer allowed to step out of this house, I won’t lose you too.”

Sanemi

“Babe, I’m back home.” He announced loudly, kicking off his shoes by the door while he put his katana on the table. Pale purple eyes immediately shot toward the direction of your shared room at hearing the crash, his hands only slamming open the door seconds later.

You were trying to collect the broken shards of a medicine jar, the medicine spilled over the floor. Sanemi narrowed his eyes, wondering why you need the medicine jar in the first place and his eyes turned to look at the bloodied bandies where you were sitting.

“S-say something!” You yelled out; the silence was pressuring for you- making it feel like you couldn’t breath. Sanemi was never quiet, so to know he was standing there and just… watching you; the thought terrified you. Your body flinched when he stopped in front of you, crouching down before his hand lifted up your jaw roughly. “What happened?”

“D-demon…”

“Demon…” He mused as if it was some joke, then stood up. Your eyes widened as you watched him walk toward the door. “Wha-what? What are you doing?”

“I’m going to to talk to the master.” Your eyes widened at hearing that, quickly running toward him and flinched when you felt him grab you. His arm wrapped around your throat, locking his arm as he held you close. “Don’t fight against me, I’m not gonna let you go out on missions anymore. From hear on, you’re dead. I’m gonna go tell the master that I found your body and you’re gonna spend out your days here. By my side. Understand it?”

You tried to argue with him, but Sanemi kept a hold on you till you passed out. Immediately taking his hand off, fingers pressing against your neck to check if you were okay and put you in bed. He tucked you in, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I do this because I love you.”

Tengen

*Before his own retirement

“There’s my darling!!” Tengen cheered excitedly, sliding in front of you with a large grin. Your eyes widened; not expecting to see the hashira home yet since he wasn’t due to be back for another three days. Three days you would have time to clean up, but his smile dropped when he saw the blood on you.

“Darling, what is this?” He narrowed his eyes at you, making you quickly try to wipe the blood from your skin. “I-it’s nothing.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing.” He even put quotations on the word, hand reaching out to grab your arm. You winced are the pain spiking up your dislocated arm. “See! This is what I’m talking about!”

“Lord Tengen, I’m f-“

“Don’t. If you finish that sentence I will lose my goddamned mind.” He pulled you closer, putting his hand on your lower back to guide you into the house. You looked down at the wives were watching you; they didn’t dare to step out to say anything when Tengen was angry like this. No one could win with him.

“Hey! Wait! What are you doing?!” You exclaimed as the shackle was put around your ankle; trying to tug it out from his grasp. “What do you think?”

“L-Lord Tengen, I thought we moved on from this!” You exclaimed; not wanting to be chained up again. He wasn’t listening to you, getting the medicines that he would need. “Can’t have my darling leave again; now can I? Hmm? You don’t need to do that job anymore.”

“You can’t be ser-“

“Girls; you’ll watch her when I’m not here. Right?” He looked to the three women who nodded immediately to his request. Good luck getting out.

Muichiro

Warnings: murder

You don’t know that Muichiro even knew you were hurt; not hearing him when he was close. Especially because he said nothing as he watched you tried to clean the wound and bandage it up.

But he knew he had to do something.

“Oh? It’s the (your hashira pillar).” You looked over at hearing the surprised Kinoe to your left. “I heard they retired yesterday.”

“They’re looking good for retirement.”

“But aren’t they so young? Maybe they just weren’t ready for being a hashira yet.” Retirement? That word stuck with you, making your way over to the kinoes. “Um… what do you mean im retired?”

“Huh? Whatcha mean by playing innocent? Everyone knows you retired yesterday. Muichiro told the master.”

“What? No I didn’t. I just got back from a mission yesterday… and I was going to give my report to the master.” You were confused. But the kinoes didn’t have time to answer because the familiar spoke out from the side. “Y/n.”

“Muichiro… We need to talk.”

“I know.” His pale blue eyes looked over at the kinoe standing there; feeling annoyed with their presence before he looked back to you. “Why… Why didn’t you talk to me about this? I don’t want to be in retirement.”

“It wasn’t up for decision.” You were surprised at hearing that, but your eyes only widened when his sword slashed through the two kinoes standing there. They shouldn’t have gossiped about you. “M-M-M-“

“Let’s go home.” He said, turning his body to face you. Not a thought behind those eyes; only dreaming on living with you and spending out his days by your side. “Now.”

Obanai

There was no hiding the scent of blood from Kaburamaru; no matter how much you tried. Obanai knew as he saw those crimson petals on your clothes; there was no way that he was going to let you do anything remotely dangerous again.

“I’m fine, I swear.” You tried to argue with him, but Obanai was having none of it. He didn’t believe you; fighting against you when you tried to push him away from taking care of you. “Stop! Stop just stop it.”

He growled, demanding your cooperation. It got to the point where he had to restrained you, being able to focus clearly on your wound and taking care of it. “You’re not leaving again.”

“But I said-“

“You’re not leaving again. That’s final.”

“You can’t-“

“I can and I will. Do remember who’s hands your family’s lives are in.” He hated to use that above your head, but necessary times call for necessary plays. Your hands clenched at hearing that and he picked up your sword from the bedside. “Wa-wait what are you doing?”

“You won’t be needing this again.”

“Wait no-!” Pieces of your sword fell to the ground, Obanai breaking it without a remorseful thought. Mix matched eyes looked over at your sulken form, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’ll be talking to the master. Be good and don’t make me hurt you when I return.”

It was an empty threat, sorta, Obanai was not above breaking your legs to keep you from running. There was no more leaving the house; he wouldn’t let this happen again.”

Mitsuri

“Honeybunches!” Mitsuri cheered happily as you arrived back home, jumping in your arms and hugging you close. You winced, tears springing toward your eyes at the pain flaring but still hugged your psychotic lover back. But she noticed the wince.

“Sweetie?” She asked, leaning her head back; looking down at you and her eyes widened when she noticed the tears in your eyes. “Baby! Why are you crying? No no no no don’t cry.”

She immediately wiped away your tears, peppering your face in kisses. “Don’t cry! I’m right here for you! You’re home now, no reason to cry.”

That’s not the reason I’m crying… You thought, getting reminded of your injuries with all of her movement. Her hands gently pet your hair, putting her forehead against yours. “You’re all home now. And~ I’ve talked to the master, sooooo you’re on vacation. Permanently.”

“Wh-what?”

“I know we talked about you retiring and I thought it was a brilliant idea because you want to stay home with me.” Your head shook, feeling like your heart was stuck in your throat. No, you felt like you were sick. This was another one of her sick delusions; another one of her thoughts where she really thought you’d played along. “What? Aren’t you happy? Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Tears sprung in her eyes, making you feel guilty. Of course she knew how it effected you; that’s why she uses it to get what she wanted whenever it comes to you. A small sign came from you; letting her down and she grinned at you. “Come on! Let’s go spend our time together! We have so much to catch up on and all the time to do so!”

It didn’t matter if you were hurt or not, Mitsuri didn’t want you to be leaving anymore. So even if you can back completely fine; the end result would have been the same.

Gyomei

“Sweetie?” You didn’t hide your wounds, thinking that you were fine. But he could hear the way the bandages rubbed when you moved; it made the hashira frown. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about lov-“

“You’re lying.” His hands gently held onto your face, thumb rubbing lightly over your skin. “You know I hate when you lie to me. Did you get hurt?”

“Yes…”

“Was it on your mission?”

“Yes…” He hummed, thinking about what he needs to do to. His hands moved to your back, pulling you closer to him to hug you closer. “I’m going to go get some supplies from Shinobu; please get some rest my love.”

He guided you to the bed, helping you lay down as he left the house. But he didn’t head toward the butterfly mansion, no, he went immediately to Kagaya. He was going to fake your death, going to keep you back at his house. Gyomei made a promise to protect you and he was going to keep that promise.