Dix

Jason appeared in the hallway, hair dripping, but already wearing sweatpants. “You started it without me? I told ya I wanted to watch the opening too—”

He stopped mid-sentence, falling silent, his mouth parting in shock—maybe at the scene? At your calmness with the intruder? Or at the intruder’s sheer audacity?

“Just what I needed,” Jason growled, voice sharp with irritation. “Why the hell are you in my apartment?”

Damian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, chewing calmly. He simply shrugged—after all, how was he supposed to explain that he had only come to check if he was still alive? It had been a whole month since he last saw him. But he wasn’t worried!

“That’s mine—Damian, you should be at home. Your home.” Jason sighed, running a hand down his face. “Get off my couch. And stop eating my food.”

Damian ignored him completely. He leaned further back into the cushions, posture relaxed in a way that made Jason’s eye twitch. Then his gaze shifted slowly toward Jason.

“You look… fuller. Softer,” the younger one commented, his gaze drifting briefly toward you, who watched the argument in silence, before quickly returning to his brother.

Damian tilted his head to the side, as if evaluating a painting.

“Have you reduced your training frequency,” he continued, his voice strangely neutral, not teasing, just observational, “or simply increased your intake of nutritionally void food?”

“Did you just call me fat?”

“…No,” he replied, but then paused to think for a few seconds. “Did I? I merely commented on your body fat—“

Jason crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“…Whatever,” he continued, tone quieter now, more thoughtful than before. “You no longer smell like cheap takeout grease and smoke. That is an improvement.”

“…That would be because he finally eats real food now,” you cut in, smiling, proud of your contribution to your boyfriend’s health.

Jason shot you a look over his shoulder, a little wounded that you had indirectly agreed with the little demon.

Damian reached out to grab more popcorn, but Jason slapped his hand away.

“Stop. Eating. My. Food. Okay. Great. Family bonding moment over.” Jason clapped his hands once, sharp and final. “You’ve seen me. Now out. Door. Window. Vent. I don’t care. Pick one.”

Damian’s attention snapped back to you, still ignoring his brother. He straightened slightly where he sat, gaze narrowing with renewed interest.

“You prepare the food?” he asked.

You nodded once. “Most of it.” You smiled. “Do you want to try the dessert?”

“…Dessert?” he repeated.

“I made chocolate cake,” you added casually. “With ganache.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed again. “…Homemade?” he asked.

“Yes.”

You disappeared into the kitchen before your boyfriend could protest.

Jason took a deep breath and dropped onto the couch, far too tired to argue any further. When the younger one opened his mouth to speak, he cut him off immediately.

“Not one more question,” Jason muttered. “Eat in silence.”

him ♡

itoshi rin

rin stares and doesn't even pretend not to. zero shame. his eyes just drop straight to your legs and stay there for a genuinely uncomfortable amount of time.

gets weird and quiet and irritable about it. like he's mad at you for looking like that. will scoff and mutter something about you being annoying. classic behavior. he's literally just flustered and projecting.

can't stop touching you once he starts. he's a physical person with you anyway but the thigh highs make him almost obsessive about it, hands always gravitating to that specific band of lace like a magnet.

if you tease him about noticing, he grabs your thigh hard enough to make you squeak and just squeezes, staring you down. "shut up." eloquent as always.

the inner thigh thing kills him specifically. the softness there, the way the stocking ends and bare skin starts. he will put his mouth on that exact spot with zero preamble if given the opportunity.

rin puts you on your back, pushes your skirt up, and gets his mouth on the inside of your thigh right at the lace band without any preamble whatsoever. he just bites down, not gentle and you arch off the mattress. his hands pin your hips flat and he sucks a bruise into the soft flesh just above the stocking top, nose pressed against the lace, jaw working, before he hooks his thumbs into your underwear and drags it down, leaving the stockings exactly in place. he looks up at you from between your thighs with that flat dark expression. "these are stupid," he says before putting his mouth on your cunt, eating you out like he's been thinking about it all day (which he has). tongue relentless on your clit and two fingers curling inside you while the lace edge scratches against his cheek with every movement of his head.

when you come he doesn't stop, works you through it until you're twisting away, and even then he just presses one last biting kiss to the inside of your thigh and sits up. looks at you, completely wrecked, thigh highs still perfectly in place. "annoying," he mutters, and reaches down to undo his belt.

yoichi isagi

isagi does a genuine double take. like actually has to look away and look back. sweet boy is not subtle, his whole face goes red immediately. it's adorable and also a little devastating.

fumbles his words for a solid minute after noticing. trying to have a normal conversation with you and completely losing his train of thought mid sentence because you shifted and the skirt moved a little.

he gets fixated on the lace specifically. keeps glancing at it. he doesn't even know what he wants to do about it yet, he's just… very aware of it. spatially. it takes up a lot of real estate in his brain.

isagi is a please-touch-me-first kind of guy normally but the thigh highs rewire something. he actually reaches out and touches them, like he's asking permission with the gesture, fingers just barely grazing the stocking material. "these are… nice," he manages. ground swallowing him whole.

the response he least expects is how loud his brain gets about the gap of bare skin. he thinks about it later when he's lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

"can i just," isagi starts and doesn't finish, cheeks already pink, hands on your thighs with his thumbs right at the lace edge. you part your legs for him and something in him relaxes and ignites at the same time. he pushes your skirt up slow, watching his own hands like he can't believe he's doing this, and when the bare strip of thigh above the stockings comes into view he exhales this quiet "god." he gets his mouth on that strip of skin and drags it slow and warm, fingers sliding your underwear aside, working you open careful and thorough because isagi when he finally gets going is relentless about making sure you feel good. "you're so," he starts, and stops, and tries again while his fingers curl inside you. "you feel so good, i can't, i"

he keeps the stockings on while he fucks you, both hands gripping that bare strip above the lace like it's the only thing he can think to hold onto, flushed and overwhelmed, forehead dropping to your knee. he thinks about it for weeks.

seishiro nagi

nagi blinks at your legs for a long moment, tilts his head slightly and goes "oh." that's it. that's his whole reaction. except he keeps looking back at your legs every like ninety seconds.

it's not that he's performing indifference, he genuinely processes things slowly. but something about the thigh highs sticks. he brings them up twenty minutes later, totally unprompted, while you're both doing completely different things. "those stockings are nice."

lazy tactile guy. will end up with his head in your lap eventually and will absolutely just… start messing with the lace band while he lies there. picking at it, stretching it, completely absentminded about it. doesn't connect that it's driving you insane.

if you're gaming together he'll pull your leg over his lap and just rest his hand on your thigh. the stocking material is apparently a texture he likes because he keeps rubbing his thumb back and forth over it. very soothing. to him. you are not soothed.

when he gets into it properly he's slow and thorough about it. he wants to leave marks above the stocking band specifically, like his own little detail that exists in that exposed triangle of skin. doesn't explain why. just does it.

nagi sets his controller down and runs his fingers along the top of the stocking band, slow, like he's taking an inventory. when you make a sharp sound at the snap of lace against your skin his eyes come up to your face and something shifts in them. "oh," he says. quieter this time. he gets you lying back, tilts his head, trails his fingers from your knee up to the lace band on one leg then the other like he's checking they match, satisfied and then puts his mouth on the inside of your thigh and starts sucking a bruise into the skin there while his fingers slide your underwear down. he goes down on you the same way he does everything, slow and thorough, tongue working your clit in long flat strokes while one hand stays at the lace band, thumb pressing into the indent it's left in your skin.

after, he looks at the marks he left above the stockings and presses his thumb into one of them, gentle. "soft," he says, satisfied. then he reaches for his controller.

iglesias bunny

bunny's reaction is immediate and dramatic and delightful. lets out a low whistle, grins like he just won something. "okay, hello." fully shameless about it.

he's a comments-about-it openly kind of guy. will tell you your legs look incredible, will gesture vaguely at the whole situation and say "what do you think you're doing to me right now, genuinely." theatrical about it but he means every word.

the gap of skin between the stocking top and your skirt is his enemy and his best friend. he keeps touching it, fingers brushing that edge with this grin like he knows exactly what he's doing.

he'll drop to a crouch in front of you for some reason, like he needs to be at eye level with your legs specifically, and look up at you while his hands rest on your knees. the eye contact from that angle is a menace.

bunny talks during everything but he talks more when he's this visually stimulated. there will be commentary. detailed commentary. you asked for this by wearing them.

"i need you to know," bunny says, grinning up at you from where he's kneeling between your legs, "that i've been thinking about this since the second you walked in." he pushes your skirt up, drags his lips along the inside of your thigh right at the lace edge and then puts his mouth on you without further comment, loud and enthusiastic about it, groaning against your cunt like you're something he's been denied, thumbs pressing into that bare strip of skin above the stocking tops. "this what you wanted, yeah? wanted me on my knees for you?" he glances up, eyes bright, fingers pumping slow. you tell him to shut up but don't stop. "rude," a simple reply. but he obliges, happily, and goes back to work.

when you come he gentles off slow. pressing soft open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh and then to the lace band itself, then sits back and pushes his hair out of his face. "told you," he says, grinning. "been thinking about it all day."

michael kaiser

kaiser's reaction is this slow, appreciative top-to-bottom look that makes you feel like you're being appraised. slight smile. he says "mm" like you've confirmed something he already suspected about himself.

he is absolutely the type to make a whole thing of it. very vocal, very deliberate, will absolutely say something like "well, you're clearly trying to get attention, so here it is." and then give you his full undivided and terrifying focus.

the possessiveness spikes immediately. something about the thigh highs makes him want to mark every visible inch of skin above the band. likes the idea of you being visually perfect in every other way except for the bruises he left on the inside of your thigh.

uses it against you. will let his hand slide up your skirt just to the lace band and stop there, totally calm, watching your face while you squirm. he finds your reactions to his restraint genuinely entertaining.

gets intensely focused during sex when you're wearing them. keeps them on. absolutely keeps them on. something about you otherwise undone and still wearing the thigh highs, that small composed detail against the complete mess of everything else, genuinely does something unhinged to him.

"keep them on," kaiser had said and he meant it. you're on your back, skirt gone, top shoved up, an absolute wreck and the stockings are still perfectly in place because that is clearly the point. he's buried in you to the hilt and not moving yet, just watching your face with that focused terrifying calm while you beg him to move. "not yet, dear," and drags his lips along your throat and keeps his hands on your thighs right above the lace bands, thumbs pressing bruises into the bare skin there. he fucks you slow on purpose when he finally does move, deep grinding rolls that make your legs shake, stilling every time you try to rush him, amused. "you're going to take everything i give you." when he finally lets you come he looks down at where you're joined, at the lace bands still bright against your skin, at the bruises his thumbs have put into the soft flesh above them, and something in his expression goes briefly, uncharacteristically undone. "look at you," he breathes. afterward, once he's collected himself, he presses one kiss to each bruise above the band. "next time," he says, "wear them with nothing else."

oliver aiku

aiku is a grown man who has absolutely been around enough to play it cool and he still can't quite manage it when you show up like this. he does this thing where he grins and looks away briefly, like he needs a second to collect himself. very cute on a man that big.

very complimentary about it, in that warm genuine aiku way. "you look gorgeous, sweetheart" but his eyes are already on your legs when he says it. he means both things simultaneously.

he's handsy at baseline and the thigh highs make it worse, hand always finding your thigh in public, thumb absently tracing the lace band through your skirt like he can feel where it is. possessive without even thinking about it.

size kink is very present here. big hands against the back of your thigh, fingers wrapping around easily, the contrast of his rough palms against the soft stocking material. he's very aware of it.

likes to slide his hand under your skirt and run his fingers along the very top of the stocking while you're doing something completely mundane, just to watch you lose your composure.

aiku gets you up on the kitchen counter and stands between your knees with his big hands running slow from your thighs to your calves and back, just feeling the stockings under his palms, before he pushes your skirt up and puts his mouth on that strip of bare skin between hem and lace and takes his time there, unhurried, laughing warm and low against your leg every time you try to pull him where you actually need him. "patience, sweetheart." when he finally gets his fingers inside you he's good at it, careful and thorough in the way that big men with steady hands tend to be. he fucks you on the counter with the stockings on, hands gripping your thighs right at the lace bands, head dropped to your shoulder, the lace scratching lightly against his hips every time he pushes in deep.

you come with his thumb on your clit and his hands wrapped around the tops of your thighs and he holds you through all of it, steady and warm, murmuring into your hair. after, he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh right at the stocking band and looks up at you with that slow grin. "going to need you to wear those again," he says. "like. soon."

an: pt 2?? anyways first time writing aiku (was gonna be hugo but i changed my mind)

Taglist: @inu1gf @143-ilyuu @irethepotato @mikemsmm @bbladie @sky-casino @thetwinkims @elemayooooooo @angelhqlo1111 @chefcorvus

He just nodded before pulling your wrist, making you fall in his lap with a yelp and wrapping his left arm around your waist before resuming back to the book he was holding in his other hand.

That was weeks ago.

With his busy schedule, it's no surprise that he pushed the matter to the back of his head and similarly, because of your exams, he observed that you hadn't even touch any of your games.

Back then, he was quite curious on what personality traits you gave him so he watched you as you set his mii up.

Unfortunately for you, that was the last time that you logged in before getting swept up with studying.

However, after he picked you up from your last day of finals to your shared ,and ridiculous far too spacious, condo, you immediately went to open up tomodachi- clearly eager to see any changes in the miis relationship.

Though, it seems to even surprise you because of the loud gasp you let out.

He blinks his eyes in confusion before taking long strides towards you- clearly very curious on what made your jaw dropped.

You flipped your switch, so that he can see the screen, and cheerfully gestures to it.

"Our miis got married already?!"

Huh

"Married?"

He repeats with his usual dry tone but there was a glint in his eyes.

"Yeah!," you eagerly explained, "Wow, I didn't even have the time to set our miis up or encourage any romantic events but it seems I didn't have to-"

You were cut off by two pairs of strong arms pulling you into his embrace. He nestles his face in your hair and breathe in your scent.

His arms squeeze you towards his chest making you have no space in-between your bodies.

You look up slightly from his chest and noticed that his ears were flushed with a pretty pink.

You can't help but hold in your giggles when you thought of a 6'2 french football prodigy, famous for his nonchalance and stoic exterior, blushing like a school girl because of a game.

You were so caught up in your musing that you almost miss the quiet mutterings.

"It's obviously isn't it?," his tone was firm and filled with conviction, he pulls away enough to grasp your chin with his hands so that your gaze meets his, "We are meant to be together, mon amour"

She was perfectly content with wearing the school uniforms growing up. They were simple. It was one less target for the other kids to throw their degrading daggers towards. As long as she followed along with what she was given and expected to do, there were hardly any threats in the way.

When she'd first tried to mimic other girls in an attempt to finally feel something beyond a cold, hollowness in her chest, it was only makeup. Powder. Lipstick. Liners. It was uncomfortable on her skin, and she found that she felt no different when catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Another failure. There was no point in messing with that either.

Still, she would put on light details here and there, hoping to find something that would spark a sense of enjoyment. A bit of blush or eyeliner was typically all she wore. She was never one to care for acne, or blemishes, or eye bags. They were natural parts of a human being's face. What was the point in trying to hide something that had no purpose?

She never understood the fear and insecurities that would contort a girl's features whenever she'd realize her makeup had been smudged. All she could do was watch as they'd bolt out of their seat and make a beeline for the nearest bathroom. Moments later, they'd return, their face once again flawless in the eyes of others.

Maybe that's why they were so desperate to coat their faces in products.

To hide the faults.

To hide their lack of confidence.

For years, she'd assumed that the only ones who would put in an overzealous amount of effort to perfect their appearances were girls. It made sense, after all, considering the high standards set in place by the community and society in general. However, as she started paying more attention once reaching high school, it only took a few quick glances to notice that, no, it wasn't just the other girls.

The boys were all worried about how they looked, too.

As the realization made itself known in her head, an uncomfortable tension began to form in her body. Now, not only was she unlike any of the other girls, she was simply isolated from other people her age, including the boys. Why did they care so much about how others perceived them? It wasn't like their looks held any value when it came to academics or the real world.

No, that wasn't entirely true.

She'd seen it with her own eyes. Many times.

People were treated poorly if they matched the part. If there was even a single flaw prominent on their face, or their hair, or their outfit, they weren't given the same level of respect as those who seemed pristine at any given moment. Some people struggled to keep their jobs and relationships because of something so meaningless. It was ridiculous.

It was all absurd in her mind.

She continued on after her realization, sticking to her plan to wear the least amount of makeup possible and settle for plain clothing.

Perhaps she'd change once she met the one person who would fix her.

The one person who would find her missing pieces and put her together.

The one person who would be hers.

Until that day came, she was more than willing to lurk in the shadows and draw as little attention to herself as possible.

She'd met you entirely by accident.

She was more than aware of you already, given your over-the-top outfits and makeup that coincided with your bubbly personality. Not only had you caught the eye of the boys in your class. You'd attracted the attention of a lot of girls, too. They adored you in every sense of the word.

Ayano had initially assumed that you were yet another copy of every try-hard girl in the school: vain, arrogant, focused only on your looks.

A flatterer.

A doormat.

That's all she thought you were.

From the outside, it was hard to find anything that would suggest you were anything above superficial. Being surrounded by multiple people at once, all trying to keep your attention on them, made it hard for her to form any other possible opinion. She couldn't hear any of your conversations, nor could she get close enough to study the microscopic changes in your expression.

There was a temptation to try and get close to you. It started as a small spark occasionally flickering beneath her skin, but as time went on, it began to spread, lighting every nerve ablaze and making it nearly impossible to think of anyone or anything else. It was a new feeling — one of the only things she could feel — and she could not understand it either.

Had it not been for the constant talk of you throughout the hallways of the school, she wouldn't have even known your name. As the desire to learn more about you grew stronger, it brought forth another new sensation: sheepishness. She knew next to nothing about you, yet she was too afraid of how you'd react if she approached you.

The other students never spoke of her kindly, and given how chatty you were with a large portion of the school, it would be no surprise to her if you had heard all of the rumors and formed a similar opinion yourself.

If she approached you, would you run away?

Would you mock her and tease her for the things entirely out of her control?

A part of her, one she couldn't recognize fully, hoped that you would welcome her. That you'd flash her that charming smile you sent to everyone. That you'd greet her and fill her with a sense of calm and belonging.

As those wishes grew, she found herself becoming increasingly aware of her mother's words. Her advice. She'd find someone who would let her feel and grow. She warned that it would be confusing at first, but with a bit of time and understanding, it would become an addictive feeling, one that she'd never want to rid herself of.

There would be no numbness left. She'd finally be granted the chance to know what it feels like to be normal. To know what it feels like to care. To love. That's all she's ever wanted was to be normal.

But now, as she watches you from afar, there's a new want clawing its way into her soul. Within days, its made itself home in her heart, which she had convinced herself would never feel the warmth of what she wanted most.

You.

She wanted you.

There were so many attempts made to catch your attention, all of which failed or ended with her running off from shame before you could speak to her. Still, she studied you, trying to find a way into your life.

That's when it hit her.

You were into fashion — the one thing she cared so little about. It was your passion. One that you shared with the school. You never tried to lie about what your routine was, or what products you used. Ayano had even caught you handing a few of your favorite products over to the students who had asked about them. There was no hesitation in your aid, either, and it only took a bit of talking herself up before she wrote a letter and stuffed it through the slots of your locker.

Inside, on the neatly folded sheet of paper, rested her phone number, address, and a coy plea to help her experiment with her style and figure out what she was confident in.

To her delight, you agreed, shooting her a quick message to let her know that you had read her letter and were more than willing to help. You told her you'd come over on the weekend, and after she gave you a few of her measurements, you went on a small shopping spree, trying to find things that would suit her the best.

It was your intention to surprise her, although that wouldn't be the case. Not that you knew that. She'd followed you up to the mall, watching with pure fascination and intrigue as you effortlessly spotted and plucked different clothes off the shelves and racks. Each item kept a general color scheme, though there were a few that strayed away from it.

She had said she wanted to experiment, after all. What better way than to try all sorts of colors and styles?

Her eyes were locked on you all the way up until you left the building. Not wanting to get caught, she darted away and took a longer path home.

All she could do then was wait.

It was hard. She wished you were there with her already, but with every hour that built up to Saturday, the fear from before settled in the pit of her stomach. What if she did something that weirded you out? Would you leave if she got too close? If she got a little too open and honest about how much she'd learned about you in such a short amount of time?

She knew she had to keep all of that inside. At least until you were close enough for her to properly gauge how you'd react. Maybe, if she gained your trust fully, you'd find it endearing rather than terrifying.

By the time Saturday finally rolled around, her limbs were practically buzzing with excitement. Her fingers, numb and tingling, tapped away at her phone screen, repeatedly closing out of the messenger app and opening it to see if you had left her any new texts.

She'd informed her mother about what was going on, and after an enthusiastic congratulations, Ryoba promised to make sure she and Jokichi were out of the house to grant her privacy. Ryoba trusted her daughter. She'd taught her well over the years, and now she was finally given the opportunity to prove herself.

True to her word, Ryoba made up some kind of excuse to get Jokichi to follow her out for a few hours, leaving Ayano to prepare herself to finally be alone with you without the worry of interruption or judgment beyond your own.

She'd decided on a pair of black track pants, a white, short-sleeved t-shirt, and a beige cardigan draped loosely across her shoulders, the buttons parted to keep it open for a more casual look. There was no makeup on yet, considering you promised to help her experiment with that as well, and she kept her hair tied up in its usual style.

Eager and desperate to see you, she leaned herself up against the wall by the front door, still checking your messages on repeat until you finally began typing. Her thumb, which had nearly swiped off of the app, froze, hovered above the dim lighting of her screen, hesitant to make another move.

'I think I'm at the right place,' you typed, the sight of your confirmation enough to leave a faint trail of crimson across her skin and get her heart pounding harder against the inside of her ribs. Without taking into consideration just how off-putting it would seem, she spun around and flung the door open, leaving her there with the view of you jolting and staring at her with wide eyes.

After a moment, she cleared her throat, briefly averting her gaze and stepping to the side to let you in. "Apologies," she mumbled. "I'm just very… excited." You offered a gentle laugh, one that she instantly wanted to hear more of. "It's alright. No need to apologize," you replied as you walked past her and into the house.

When she closed and locked the door, she turned to you, finding you standing there, waiting expectantly. It took her a moment to figure out what you were waiting on. "Oh," she blurted after another few seconds. "Sorry, I'm new to this. We can go up to my bedroom." It was then that she registered the bags in your hands. They seemed to be weighing you down.

"Here, let me help you carry those," she offered, already reaching for the bags clasped in your left hand. Huffing out a sigh of relief, you handed them to her without delay, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thanks. They got really heavy while walking here."

It was almost instinct to mirror your smile.

It was natural.

But how could she not smile back at you?

Your glee was contagious, even to someone like her who had hardly felt anything her entire life.

"You didn't have to find so many things for me to try. I would've been more than content with a few shirts or leggings."

You hummed, trailing behind her as she made her way upstairs to her bedroom. "Well, then there wouldn't really be much to experiment with. Besides, I don't mind. It'll be fun!" She hummed, her head turning briefly to eye you as she climbed the steps before you. "Fun. Yes. I'm sure it will be."

It only took a few more steps to reach her room. The room was everything you'd expected from her, given how distant and reclusive she seemed at school. Bare walls, a desk organized neatly with papers from school, a wardrobe tucked in the corner to hold her few outfits, and her bed, tidy and plain. It wasn't what you were used to seeing when you'd go over to friend's houses, but it wasn't a drab sight either.

It suited her.

You turned to her after setting the rest of the bags down beside her desk, nearly jumping out of your skin at the sight of her staring right back at you with an unrecognizable expression. "Is everything okay?" You asked softly. She nodded with a bit too much force, but you chose not to point it out.

"Yes, of course. I just," she paused, and you watched as her eyes darted around her own room, suddenly holding a mixture of unease and uncertainty. "Is there something wrong with how I've set up my room?" You blinked, surprised. You didn't figure that she cared what others thought — that was one of the main things that drew you to her in the first place: she didn't need the attention or validation of others to thrive.

She did well in all of her classes, and she always looked flawless, regardless of how minimalist her makeup was. She impressed you, honestly.

So for her to ask for your opinion on her bedroom — a space reserved solely for her?

"No, of course not," you finally answered after a beat. "It's very cozy. I'm just not entirely sure where to sit or stand while we mess around with the different outfits." Almost unnoticeably, her shoulders tensed, and she dropped her own handful of bags down with very little consideration of what could be inside.

She walked over and pulled her chair out from her desk, motioning subtly to the seat. "Sorry, I should've let you know sooner that you're free to sit wherever. You could sit here or on my bed, if you'd like." Internally, she hoped you'd choose to sit on her bed, wanting nothing more than to be able to catch your scent on her sheets as she dozed off later that night.

To her dismay, you chose the office chair, though she supposed it wasn't necessarily a loss. Your perfume would surely cling to it as well. It would give her all the more reason to spend her time studying at the desk.

"Thank you," you blurted, snapping her out of her thoughts. She nodded and hummed. "Of course."

She moved to her bed after grabbing the previously discarded bag from the ground. With a grunt, she dropped onto the mattress, took a breath, then peeked inside to see what you had brought. "So," you started while your hands clapped together excitedly. "I wasn't entirely sure if there was a specific style you'd like, and I really only see you at school, so I don't know what casual clothes you already have. That being said, I did take my time to try and find stuff I thought would bring out your features."

A hum was her reply. She nodded along, acting innocent, as if she hadn't watched you hand-select everything for her yourself. She feigned surprise as you began to pull out the different blouses and accessories. She disguised the recognition in her eyes as intrigue.

Even though she'd expected each item you tugged from the bags, she hadn't anticipated the feeling of flattery you'd unknowingly brought her. It bubbled through her veins, drawing her focus away from the clothes, and ultimately left her speechless as she simply watched you.

Not only had you gone out of your way to search for and buy different outfits you thought she would like, you'd also been thinking specifically of the features they would emphasize. "I think this'll really bring out your eyes," you said as you held up one of the blouses. "And if we mess around with your hair and makeup a bit, I'm sure we could find a style that would bring out your lips and nose, too."

You were thinking of her: of her eyes, her lips, her nose — the same parts her mind latched onto whenever she thought of you. Maybe you weren't thinking of those features in the same way as her, but it brought her delight to know you were thinking of her at all.

"I'll leave—" Your words instantly drew her back into the present. She gawked at you, an overwhelming sense of offense and hurt instantly contorting her face. Thankfully, you hadn't noticed.

You were leaving? Already? What had she done?

"—the room," she took a breath, "so you can get changed. Just let me know when I can come back in." Although she didn't want you to leave, she could only nod, then watch as you stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind you.

Her focus landed on the separate piles on her desk. There was no spark of interest in her eyes as they bore into the different fabrics, nor was there any better of an understanding in her mind for the appeal of it all.

Truthfully, she didn't care for any of the outfits. Not for the way they looked, anyway. She only liked them because you were the one who had given them to her. That, and you had put so much thought behind each article. Because you were the one to pick them out for her, pay for them out of your own pocket, and gift them to her, she loved them, every single one.

She thought back on the way you looked at each blouse, each skirt, each pair of pants, and she put on the ones that you seemed the most excited to see her in. With a brief look at herself, she made her way back to the bedroom door, prying it open and peering out to find you waiting a few feet away from the frame. Your head turned at the sound of the door opening, a smile your way of greeting her when you made eye contact.

"You're welcome to come in again," she spoke, then stepped back to let you slip in past her. When you made it in and faced her properly, you let out a small squeal, the grin on your lips once again growing contagious and forcing one to mirror itself on Ayano. "Oh, you look so good!" You said, bouncing on your toes. "So pretty!"

Pretty.

You thought she was pretty?

There was no way for her to hide the crimson creeping over her face at your words, though she wasn't entirely worried about concealing it either. You were far too focused on the way the outfit complimented her to notice.

"Thank you," she managed to murmur.

The next few hours felt like they were all blurred together. She tried on different combinations, all of which you met with pure excitement, and you never failed to shower her in compliments. That kind of praise wasn't something she tended to care for, but hearing you speak so highly of her? It drove her insane.

By the time you left for the evening, her heart throbbed with every recall of your words. She had to make it happen again.

The end of the next week, you once again found a letter in your locker. You recognized the handwriting immediately, barely having to skim over the message inside before you tugged your phone out, shooting her a text and letting her know you were more than willing to help out again.

This time, it was with her hair and makeup.

Feeling your fingers in her hair, nails occasionally grazing over her scalp, and leading different strands into specific directions to style it had her shutting her eyes. A small smile was the only outward indication that she was enjoying it, but she could feel the pleasure and delight coursing throughout each limb.

When you sat in front of her on the bed to apply different makeup products, she was stiff, even with you letting her know she could make herself comfortable. Her body was rigid because of the impulse she felt to pull you into her lap. She had to fight against it, not wanting to upset you or scare you away.

But having one of your hands cradle her jaw to keep it steady helped her ease up a bit. She practically melted into your touch, and beyond a small chuckle, you didn't comment on it. It was clear she liked being around you, even though you'd hardly spent time together. You seemed to bring her a sense of peace.

It was cute.

You liked being around her already, too.

It became a routine thing after that second day to come over to her house on the weekend and help her pick out different outfits and styles for the following week. After a while, though, you wouldn't hide behind that excuse anymore. You started spending time with her just for the fun of it.

Uncaring of the curious — and occasionally disgusted — glares, you began to spend time with her during school as well. You'd meet up with her at lunch, sit with her during study hall, chat with her between classes, and eventually walk with her to and from school.

It was only a matter of time before you caught feelings for her as well and finally became official with her.

To say she was elated would be an understatement. Her plan had worked flawlessly. You were hers now, and it was all thanks to something she paid so little attention to before.

Still, even after dating her for months — and years — you still chose new outfits for her. You'd help her dress, help her apply her makeup, and help her style her hair. She didn't bother hiding how much she loved it anymore. There was no need, to be fair. You got to watch every reaction you could pull from her.

Every sigh and small groan she'd give while your fingers carded through her hair.

Every perk of her lips when you reminded her how beautiful she was.

Every instant her body would fall slack beneath your touch as you put on her makeup for her.

She just loved that you were near her. She still cared very little for the cosmetics and outfits, but now that you were the one helping her experiment with it all?

She had to admit it.

She was warming up to it.

your heart flutters whenever you’re close to ayano, whether you’re holding her in your arms or she’s pulling you in for a kiss, but you always have to remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything to her. she’s always been upfront with you, her best friend, about the genetic condition that makes her completely emotionless until she meets the boy who can lessen its effects, before it disappears entirely when they become proper lovers. 

that’s what she said specifically, until she could meet “a boy,” which crushed your soul, although you refused to let it show.

it’s why when your relationship started crossing some lines and became more physical, you thought she was simply trying to prepare for that future boyfriend of hers. it wouldn’t be the most outlandish thing, you’ve heard of friends with benefits or practice partners before, and ayano has been quite a recluse for most of her life, so you always assumed you were just helping her get ready with social and romantic aspects. 

it didn’t bother you at first, you were actually more than happy to help her with such things, but as time passed and things escalated, you found that you could no longer be content with just being friends. sometimes, you wail about it to your friends, how unlucky you are to have fallen so deeply for a straight girl, and while they always do their best to comfort you, they can’t help but be confused.

were you and ayano not already girlfriends? the dark-haired girl is usually friendly enough to other students, although always vacant and disinterested, but she was an entirely different person when she was by your side. her gray eyes would sparkle, and she would be much more animated than usual, like you were a light that lit up the darkness in her soul. besides, the two of you were attached at the hip, always chatting on the school roof, eating lunch together, and even walking home together while holding hands. everyone and their teachers were under the assumption that you two were past the friendship phase and were now dating, but apparently, you weren’t aware of what everyone else thought when you were in your own little bubble with her. 

you’re really just as clueless as they say. ayano originally thought it was an exaggeration, but you’re completely oblivious when it comes to romance to a degree that almost seems cartoonish. are you really unable to see the amount of adoration in her eyes every time she looks at you? is it that difficult to believe without words that she loves you more than anything else in the world? you were correct about your unique relationship only being “practice” at first, but things have changed since then, and her attitude towards you is different as well. 

ayano supposes that she was always an outlier when it came to the notes her ancestors had made about their condition. while it was supposed to be less potent with every generation, the characteristic numbness symptom was just as present in her as it was in her ancestors, and while all of her predecessors fell in love at first sight, it took her time before she was able to fully realize how happy she was by your side. 

the only issue is, she’s still too afraid to verbally confess her feelings. she knows that she could kiss you on the lips or even pull you into the bedroom as much as she wants, but as long as she doesn’t say a word about her feelings, you were never going to know and will always be thinking it doesn’t mean anything to her. maybe, one day, you’ll even be fed up with this arrangement and end it, leading to an awkward gap between the two of you which will only grow since you’ve forgotten what it was like to be with her without acting like a couple.

no, it was clear now that she must muster up the courage to tell you the truth of how she feels. she refuses to allow things to eventually fall apart like a slow death, and she refuses to ever let you go after you showed her how wonderful it was to be in love.

ever since that fateful day when ryoba fell head over heels in love with you at first sight back at akedemi, she’s desired you in both body and soul. she was absolutely infatuated, evident by how her entire life came to revolve around you, spending all of her free time stalking you around campus and casually “eliminating” anyone who dared to come between the two of you. while she’s too shy to actually speak to you, she’s diligent in consistently putting love letters and little gifts on your desk, signing them as a secret admirer while feeling all giddy inside when she sees that you smile upon finding them.

still, even when anonymous, she’s still holding back about the true extent of her feelings, carefully planning out the content of the letters rather than scribbling out her full-blown thoughts. she’s self-aware enough to know how creepy some of them come off when she puts down the pen, and the last thing she wanted was for you to be afraid. all the notes that get out of hand are safely tucked away in her room, containing everything from details about you that she isn’t supposed to know, like your schedule and deepest secrets, to how much she desires you physically. 

especially how much she desires you physically. ryoba doesn’t like to think of herself as perverted, but things just get out of hand in her imagination, going from something cute like kissing to something lewd like eating you out in a matter of seconds. she often finds herself burying her face in her pillow late at night, fisting her spit-slicked cock in the middle of the night while pretending it was your hand instead.

perhaps that’s why, a few years later, during your wedding night, she seems extra eager to consummate the marriage. it’s still surreal to her that she managed to get this far on purely natural means, not needing to resort to the means her mother used with her father, and she was elated to know that all of her hard work had paid off when she laid you out on the bed and both of you got to work of stripping off your respective white dresses. of course, you were needy for her as well, but she’ll soon find out that she has a new obsession with filling you up with all the love inside of her.

obviously, it has crossed her mind before, but ryoba has never given it too much thought until now since all of her focus was on winning you over. now that you were completely hers, both body and soul as she always wanted, her priorities have shifted into wanting to start a family, and as soon as possible. just the thought of having a baby with you, a product of your love for each other with both your genetics, was enough to have her dragging you back to the bedroom once the day was over. 

you were rather neutral on the topic at first, but seeing how enthusiastic she was on the topic, you weren’t about to stop her. you never see the glint of possessiveness that flashes in her eyes every time she holds you under her, but you can always feel it from the way she holds onto your wrists as she ruts into you, and she can always feel when you’re coming close from the way you’re clenching down on her. she thinks it’s so romantic whenever you both finish together, even pressing down on your lower abdomen to feel the way her seed fills your womb. it would take a couple of days before you would be able to take a test, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to crack a couple more tries of impregnating you in the meantime.

after the kind of childhood she and her sister had, neglected by her mother and raised by her grandmother instead, she has learned from all of the things that have worked and didn’t. she doesn’t plan on letting her mom see her grandkid, but she’s sure she wouldn’t care much anyway. kataba, on the other hand, who brought her up in the best way she possibly could, would probably tear up at being a great grandmother. ryoba just can’t wait for the two of you to become mothers, she already has names picked out and a picture of what the nursery would look like!

your baby daughter is the second most darling thing ryoba has ever seen in her life, a product of your love for each other that will grow into your images, making her heart flood with love and affection in a similar manner to when she was around you back in high school. it’s no easy task to take care of ayano when neither of you have any parenting experience, but thankfully, her grandmother is more than willing to lend a helping hand if needed. hopefully, the next time the two of you decide to have another baby, things will be a whole lot easier to manage when you have learned from previous mistakes. 

however, there was something that your wife was struggling with which was even more difficult than raising an infant child, and that was keeping her desires at bay. no sex until you have fully recovered, doctor’s orders, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt you because she couldn’t control herself. besides, there were more pressing matters at hand, so she tried her best to keep her mind off intimacy.

easier said than done, because these past few weeks, you’ve been glowing in a way that she’s never seen before. while you’re clearly exhausted by the new responsibility of being a mother, you were absolutely gorgeous and practically irresistible to her. if she’s to be frank and vulgar about it, your tits have been very appealing to her with the way they would swell up and leak with milk for the baby. god, she’s so perverted when it came to you, a trait that still remained with her from her younger years and still hasn’t grown out of.

still, as much as she was trying to keep herself under control, you could see the lust flashing in her eyes as clear as day, and while you weren’t in any condition to get fucked, you could think of another way for her to get her fix and keep the edge off. 

breastfeeding a grown ass woman is pretty different from a baby, but even with her size and teeth, she’s much more gentle and considerate when she’s suckling on your boobs. it helped to keep the pressure building in them off when ayano was already full, and while she’s happy she could be of service, it didn’t take rocket science to know that wasn’t the first thing she had in her mind. 

even though it was only a small act of intimacy compared to what the two of you were usually up to, it was enough to keep her horniness at bay. you even had a hand wrapped around her leaking cock, gently jerking her off until she bursts. it didn’t take too much stimulation for her to cum when she was already so pent up, but she was mildly disappointed that the fun was over too soon. she didn’t need to worry though, there were plenty of other opportunities to do this again once the baby had been put to bed.

her peers and professors know megami to always have a calm and steadfast demeanor, rarely ever caught off guard by anything at all, even if she were to receive the most drastic and life-shattering news or if she were to experience something particularly traumatic. she’s the “untouchable goddess” who never falters or is caught off guard, so imagine their surprise when the student council president comes to class thirty minutes late, a dark blush dusting her face and her chest heaving, out of breath and extremely flustered as she took her seat, trying to calm down and draw so much attention to herself. they all knew better than to question her, but there was a slight tension in the air where everyone in the room was wondering just what could have possibly happened for her to be acting so strangely. 

thank god, none of them have the faintest clue or idea of what actually happened. they would never suspect the kind of sinful activities the two of you were up to in the back of the calligraphy room. even though she has quickly been able to compose herself now that she’s in class, she could still feel your tongue licking along the underside of her cock while she was sprawled out on the floor with her panties pulled down to her ankles.

now, for the record, megami is the more dominant one in your relationship, always has been with how naturally leadership came to her, and it was usually no different in the bedroom, but today, it seems as though something had gotten into you with how horny and bossy you were. although she was confused, she didn’t mind it too much, not when she was more curious than anything about your sudden change in behavior, but she didn’t really have the opportunity to ask about it or analyze it when you were climbing on top of her in a searing kiss before lowering herself to between her thighs. 

it isn’t the first time she’s been more submissive for you, but to be doing it behind the divider of the calligraphy room was almost too much for her, desperately covering her lower face with her gloved hands. she knew everyone was in class, and even if it was a different time, no one ever comes in here except for kuroko when she’s making her rounds, yet her body is feverish from nerves and pleasure.

these past few weeks, she’s just been bending you over the nearest surfaces in the most convenient locations due to how busy she’s been, and she nearly forgot how damn good it feels to be enveloped in the wet heat of your mouth. either giving head was one of your greatest talents, or the act of getting a blowjob while both of you should have been in class was too erotic for her to handle. it was probably the latter, as embarrassing as it is to admit. even for someone as trained as her, she struggled to stop herself from squirming when you bobbed your head along her length, and it only worsened when you were giggling at her state, the vibrations making her shake and shiver with a moan.

it’s so rare for her to be so vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but find her so irresistibly cute when she’s reduced to a whining mess. you could practically feel your core thumping in rhythm with her pulsating cock, uselessly running your thighs together in a poor attempt of alleviating the ache. you felt like you were going to go crazy without anything to put your desire at ease, but you couldn’t stop yourself from sucking her off like you were sucking on a lollipop. you even think she tastes as sweet as one when she finally cums on your tongue, the sticky glob weighing heavily on your tongue before you happily swallow it.

megami still can’t get the look on your face out of her mind, all hazy and borderline feral with lust. it got to the point where she forced her mind to other places to prevent getting a hard-on in the middle of class, but if one thing was certain, it was that she was going to return the favor during cleaning time.

from the moment she was born, megami has been trained and conditioned to handle whatever life may throw her way, from minor inconveniences to life-or-death scenarios. her genius and extensive training is various martial arts allow her to solve whatever problems arise no matter how complex it may be without much difficulty and always remains resilient in the face of danger without hesitating to fight her way out if necessary, but this current situation is something not even a woman like her knows how to handle

she already hated her father for forcing her to take temporary leave from akedemi due to the fact that an aishi was enrolled in the classes, claiming he feared for her safety. truthfully, she feels like he doesn’t trust in her yet or have full faith in her skills. she’s perfectly capable of defending herself, practically invincible in hand-to-hand combat, proficient in using weapons of any kind, and possessed quick thinking as well as improvisation skills which could get her out of any spot of trouble no matter how drastic the circumstances may be, but she hated even more that she was no longer able to see you in person since her every move is currently being monitored. she wasn’t even able to sneak around by contacting you using her cell phone as it was bugged, meaning all of her activities on the device were being tracked. currently the only way she could get in touch with you was through letters she bribed her little brother to mail to you, often receiving the replies hidden in a stack of documents he puts on her desk for her to read before bed and fold them under her pillow as her most treasured possession through these difficult times. she’s living in the spacious saikou mansion, yet she feels more like she’s in prison and slaving away over the assignments her father gives her to train her for her future.

(kencho would normally snitch on his sister in an attempt to get ahead of her, but his parents cut off his allowance for three months after crashing one of their cars, so he’s willing to help her out in exchange for a good amount of money. besides, he thinks it’s good blackmail material to use on her, but little does he know, she has more dirt on him than he could ever imagine so he’ll never have the guts to spill it.)

her entire life has been carefully planned and scripted, almost like she was in a truman show situation where she was permanently placed in front of cameras for all of japan to watch from the moment she wakes up at five in the morning to the second she falls back into bed a little past midnight. while she’s grateful for her family’s amazing genetics and the money she was born into with opportunities to triple her net worth, it’s exhausting keeping up this appearance, and she can’t help but feel resentful towards them for keeping her from living an authentic and normal life. 

that’s why, when she’s alone with you, she feels like she could finally be the true part of herself that she’s nearly forgotten all about instead of what was expected of her: the robot who did whatever her family asked and programmed her to do, the authoritative student council president who was able to command everyone with a single word, the nepo baby citizens call her without knowing anything about her at all aside from her name, and the future wife of another wealthy heir when she didn’t have any interest in men. even if they were only for a few moments away from the public eye before she had to put her mask back on again, it was the most freeing and treasured moments of her life, and it made her fall deeply in love with you. she already had her future planned out with you— what was going to be her real future. the two of you just have to endure a couple of years of hardship, keeping your relationship a secret and going along with what her family wanted. once she’s promoted from heiress to ceo of saikou corp and secures the title, she’ll finally take her life by the reins and marry you, even if she would be scorned and considered a disgrace by her family, it would all be worth it if it meant she could be with you.

(a true rebellion would be her running away from her family and their plans for her entirely before eloping with you, but the truth way, despite her master proficiency in every single thing she does, she can’t imagine herself being anything other than the saikou corp ceo, but she knows that once she claims it, she’ll be the boss of herself and no one will be able to touch her.)

that was the plan, but megami caught wind of something happening in akedemi while she wasn’t there. as soon as she learned she wouldn’t be at akedemi in person for the first few months, she employed the help of the other student council members to keep an eye on the aishi, and while they were a little confused on why they needed to be wary of a seemingly harmless girl, they obeyed without a second question.

this girl, whose name she learned to be ayano, has been spotted stalking you multiple times, both by them and by security footage on various cameras in town (which were hacked into thanks to shiromi). she follows you on your route to and from school as well as your outings with your friends, she takes candid pictures of you even if you’re not doing anything interesting, and she consistently steals your things from a pencil you’ve chewed on during a test to a bloody bandage you’ve thrown away. she appears to be completely and utterly infatuated with you in a very creepy and borderline unhealthy manner, to the point that she also develops a keen interest in girls who approach you with romantic intentions.

the first girl was osana najimi, your childhood best friend, whose daily interactions with you mysteriously went wrong for reasons she didn’t understand until you rejected her confession under the cherry tree on friday.

the second girl is amai odayaka, the president of the cooking club, whom you’ve become friends with since she was teaching you how to cook. similar to the last girl, ayano started watching her and listening in to her conversations, almost like she was trying to learn more about her before getting rid of her.

at first, the girls thought the president was just a little paranoid. they knew about this secret relationship, but didn’t think she had anything to worry about when it was megami saikou versus this rather random girl, but then kuroko witnessed the horrifying scene of amai burning alive in the home economics room on thursday. she immediately suspected foul play since she spotted ayano carrying a screwdriver to the scene of the crime, but when she told the police, it was back in the workshop. while her fingerprints were on the handle, it was open to anyone in the school who needed it, so it wasn’t definitive proof of anything, and the police ruled it to be an accident.

this was bad, so very bad, and it kept megami up for the entire night.

of course, she knew that there would be other people vying for your affection and attempting to make you fall for them. it was a given when it comes to someone as beautiful and lovable as you, but that wasn’t a problem in her mind. she trusted you and had full confidence you wouldn’t pick anyone over her or cheat on her, ayano aishi was the one she didn’t trust.

she knows all about her mother and her history at this school, and she knew ayano was the very same type of person as ryoba aishi and all the other women of her bloodline. once they’ve fallen in love with their “senpai,” they latch onto them like leeches and never let go, obsessed with possessing them entirely and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve that, even if it means killing those whom they consider to be rivals or possibly taking you against your will.

there are only going to be more girls who grow a liking to you, and there are only going to be more deaths on campus because of that. she knew ayano was dangerous and shouldn’t be running around free, but she had hoped that the “senpai effect” wouldn’t be triggered and therefore she would have no reason to be violent, but she now understands how naive she was to think that. 

she can’t continue asking the other girls to keep tabs on ayano when they all have their own responsibilities to juggle and were likely to get even busier as the weeks go on, so she was going to roll the dice on a decision that was either going to be a stroke of genius or one of the worst decisions of her life. normally, megami doesn’t like to gamble and much prefers making carefully thought-out choices, but it comes to someone as unpredictable as an aishi who is in love with her girlfriends and willing to put her future happiness in jeopardy, she was going to need something that was high reward even if it was high risk.

the rest of the student council was ready to protest when they heard her idea to have ayano join their ranks as a historian, scared of what she would do with the newfound power once she dons the white uniform, but they were willing to listen. being a part of their team would allow them to keep a closer eye on her, but the students were also going to be more aware of her presence due to her status, and her strange behaviors would be more noticeable. the plan was to overload the girl with tasks and responsibilities for as long as they possibly could under the guise of “testing” her ability to be in the position before eventually resorting to under-the-table tricks to get her expelled from the school. 

despite kuroko being a little iffy on the idea of framing her at first, all of them agreed that it would be for the best if it meant preventing more deaths in the school. megami was also going to take some money out of her own pocket to install discreet cameras and metal detectors around the school, ensuring that not a single thing the aishi does will go unnoticed. she didn’t think she was going to be resorting to such tactics so early on, but if it meant protecting you and the other students, then she was perfectly willing to do it. if ayano was going to play dirty to get to you, then the student council was going to do the same to stop her.

request:

Okay for requests could I get headcannos for how Megami (Yandere sim) to finding out ayano is obsessed with her girlfriend (reader)? (I just feel like it’d be interesting since reader and megami are partners before she leaves the school for 10 weeks so now she has to sit with this knowledge both when she’s at the school and when she’s forced to be away)