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nemoredraw · 2 days ago

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— TIM DRAKE X OC —[ENG version] (NSFW) Trapped Among the Rubble. (TIMO ship) (not canon)

Note: Hi! Here’s the English version. The Spanish version is available on my Patreon if you’re interested.

P.S. English is not my native language, so there are probably a lot of mistakes in both the writing and translation. I just hope it was translated well enough. I didn’t even read through it completely to check if everything was correct because I know I wouldn’t understand a damn thing.

Anyway, I hope it makes some sense, and if not, at least you’ll get an idea of the dynamic between these two. If you have any suggestions, questions, or doubts, don’t be afraid to comment.

Thank you so much for reading this far!

P.S.2: I’m not a writer, so I also apologize for the bigger mistakes you’re about to see while reading.

Best regards!

Red Robin was exhausted by Nemo, tired of the same routine over and over again. Nemo caused chaos, and as always, he had to be there to clean up the mess, stop him, and try to catch him to lock him up in Arkham Asylum. But the villain was cunning and elusive, always finding a way to escape or playing his cards so skillfully that he always managed to get away. However, this time things were different. Due to one of Nemo’s bombs, both of them got trapped under large concrete blocks. The pressure of the concrete on his body was unbearable, and the air, thick with dust, made it even harder to breathe. There was no way out of there. Any attempt to move anything could be much more dangerous. The only option was to wait for someone to rescue them. Nemo was handcuffed, but Red Robin kept his eyes on him as his mind tried to come up with a plan to escape that trap.

Dust floated in the air, suspended like a dense cloud that enveloped the space and made visibility even harder. Red Robin, trapped under the concrete slab, felt the weight not only of the block but of the years of constant fighting against Nemo. It wasn’t just about facing him; it was the feeling of being stuck in an endless cycle, where he always had to stop him, and yet, he always came back. The frustration consumed him from the inside. Every minute he spent there, his exhaustion became more evident, not just physically, but emotionally. The fatigue of an endless war that seemed to have no end.

The sound of his breathing, labored and broken, broke the heavy silence. He was close to Nemo, close enough to feel his unsettling presence. Despite being seemingly immobilized, Nemo never stopped smiling with that unchanging expression, that grimace that irritated Red Robin so much. The handcuffs glinted under the dim light filtering from some distant corner, but Nemo’s calm wasn’t that of someone defeated. It was the calm of someone who knew the game wasn’t over. The game never truly ends. There was always something more, an unexpected move.

—Do you think someone will come for us?— Nemo asked, his tone almost mocking, as if he was enjoying the situation.

Red Robin didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the scene, looking for any crack, any possibility of escape, or a way out of there before time ran out. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Nemo’s words. For so long, he had been waiting for his teammates to rescue him, but as time passed, the feeling that help wouldn’t arrive began to take over him.

—What have you done?— he finally replied, his voice deep and filled with doubt, although he couldn’t avoid the feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He always wondered if things could have been different. If maybe Nemo wouldn’t be a threat if he had acted sooner, if he had stopped him when he still had the chance. How many more times would he have to live this?

Nemo chuckled, a laugh that seemed to ripple through his body, fueled by the adrenaline and fun that never left him.

—You did what you could, Red Robin. But you know what they say… there’s always more at stake.—

Silence settled between them, heavy and palpable. Despite being handcuffed, despite being seemingly at Red Robin’s mercy, the hero knew that Nemo never played to lose. His unwavering gaze reflected something beyond the superficial calm; an unbreakable spark of enjoyment, the same one he always had, even in the worst situations.

Red Robin squinted, a mix of helplessness and fury flooding his being. Sometimes he had the patience to tolerate Nemo’s voice, but at that moment, with all the accumulated fatigue, the irritation was stronger. He moved closer to him, determined not to fall for his game. He wasn’t going to give him the luxury of exploding and slapping him like he wanted to, but instead, he knelt in front of him, staring closely into his eyes, while the villain remained seated, handcuffed, in a posture that only increased his air of contempt.

—Nemo… I can’t keep picking up everything you destroy. One day, this will end, and when that happens, I won’t be there to fix it. Then what will you do? Will you cry to your partners to get you out of this? Believe me… your partners wouldn’t give a penny for you.—

Nemo tilted his head slowly, his smile widening slightly, but his eyes reflected something much deeper. It wasn’t anger, not even annoyance, but that unbreakable spark of fun that never went out, as if everything was just another game for him.

—Oh, Red Robin, how naïve you are…— he whispered, stretching the words as if it were a shared secret. —You always talk as if you were indispensable. Like, without you, everything would fall apart.—

Red Robin didn’t look away. He wasn’t going to let Nemo drag him into one of his mental games. Not this time.

—It’s not about me, it’s about you,— he replied firmly. —You think everything revolves around chaos, that there will always be someone to pick up the pieces you leave behind. But one day, you’ll be left alone, trapped in one of your own traps, and then… what? Who will be there to get you out?—

Nemo tilted his head back, resting it against the concrete block surrounding him. The laugh that escaped his mouth echoed in the confined space, a sound that seemed to multiply in the darkness surrounding them.

—You know? I like seeing you like this, with that contained frustration. It makes you more human.—

Red Robin didn’t react, but his jaw tightened, marking the discomfort he felt with every word of Nemo.

—I’m not the only one who’ll get tired of this game, Nemo. Gotham gets tired. Your partners get tired. And when you’re no longer useful, when you’re trapped without a bomb, without a plan, without an escape… what will you do then?—

Nemo fell silent for a moment, as if Red Robin’s words had touched something deep within his mind. For a second, Red Robin thought he had planted a seed of doubt, that maybe the seed of uncertainty was beginning to grow. But Nemo didn’t take long to lean slightly toward him, without losing that relentless smile.

—Then… I’ll have to make sure that, when that day comes, you’ll be trapped with me.—

Red Robin, with a piercing gaze, raised his arm to show him the scene stretching around them. A scene of chaos and desolation, of irreparable consequences. A scene where they were both trapped, victims of their own actions.

—That day has arrived, Nemo, it’s closer than you think. You just have to look around.—

Red Robin’s tone was cold but filled with determination. He didn’t want to show even the slightest hint of doubt. Inside, he had already made a decision. This time, there would be no escape for Nemo.

—This time, you won’t escape, Nemo. This time, I’ll put you in prison… for your own good.—

With a quick movement, Red Robin grabbed Nemo by his clothes and pulled him toward him, shoving him in a way that Nemo could see the threat was real. The tension in the air was palpable, and although Red Robin’s words were firm, there was something in his expression that betrayed his frustration.

Nemo, showing no resistance, allowed Red Robin to pull him toward him. However, his smile didn’t disappear. His eyes slowly scanned the rubble, as if he was really seeing the ruin reflected in that landscape of destruction, as if he accepted that, in some way, this was his destiny.

—Well, Red… you almost sound like you care.— Nemo commented, his voice light, mocking, but with a hint of something else that wasn’t easy to identify.

Red Robin didn’t let himself be distracted. He kept his grip on his clothes, firm as a rock. He knew he had to stay in control, even though Nemo’s presence was becoming harder to handle.

—I don’t care about you, I care about stopping you before this kills you.— he replied coldly, without taking his eyes off him.

Nemo laughed, a low and almost imperceptible laugh, as if it were a whisper in the stillness of chaos. There was something in that laugh, something more than just mockery.

—Always so heroic… Always believing you can save everyone, even those who don’t want to be saved.—

Red Robin’s jaw tightened. That phrase, so characteristic of Nemo, always made him lose his patience, but now he couldn’t give in. Not this time.

—It’s not about what you want, Nemo. It’s about what you’ve done. And this time, there’s no escape, no bombs, no partners coming to get you. It’s just you and me, and when you get out of here, it’ll be straight to Arkham.—

A heavy silence filled the air between them. Nemo looked at him with an unsettling intensity, evaluating every word, every move. Finally, with a shrug and a sly smile, he murmured:

—If you really believed that… you wouldn’t be trying to convince me.—

Red Robin let him go with a slight shove, as if he needed to distance himself from Nemo’s unshakable attitude, from that smile that never left. But he couldn’t let that distract him. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was making sure Nemo didn’t escape, not this time.

The dust kept falling, and uncertainty lingered in the air. Maybe help would come. Maybe not. But what Red Robin knew for sure was that this time, Nemo wouldn’t get out of there like he always did. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

Suddenly, the ceiling began to shake, a crack echoed, and before he could react, something fell with force. The danger of being trapped under the rubble became real. Red Robin saw a concrete block falling directly onto Nemo, and without thinking, he lunged toward him, pushing him quickly to avoid the impact.

The blow was inevitable, but Red Robin managed to protect him, both of them getting buried even deeper under the rubble. Red Robin was over Nemo, his body shielding him from the fallen blocks while dust surrounded them.

Nemo blinked, surprised by Red Robin’s sudden action. For a moment, there were no words, only their heavy breathing, the sound of rubble settling around them, and the weight of the hero on top of him. Red Robin, although angry, had chosen to save him.

Then, that initial surprise shifted into something else. Something he couldn’t even fully define.

—Wow, Red…— Nemo murmured, his usual mocking tone, but this time, there was something more. A slight surprise in his voice. —If you wanted me this close, you could’ve just asked.—

Red Robin scoffed, barely moving to prop himself up on his forearms. His brow was furrowed, frustration evident on his face.

—Shut up, Nemo.—

But Nemo couldn’t stay quiet, not when his mind was still processing what had just happened. Red Robin had saved him. Despite everything, despite every fiber of his being probably wishing to see him behind bars, he had chosen to save him.

Nemo tilted his head slightly, making his handcuffs jingle as he moved his wrists.

—So… you’re still hell-bent on saving me, huh?—

Red Robin looked away for a moment, but it was enough for Nemo to notice.

—See?— Nemo whispered, with that sly smile of his. —It’s not just about justice. You care.—

Red Robin’s jaw tightened even more.

—I care about the lives you ruin, Nemo.—

—Mine included, it seems.— the villain replied, almost in a whisper.

The tension between them was palpable, different from all the previous times. Maybe because the space was even smaller, maybe because this time Nemo didn’t have a clear escape, or maybe because, deep down, they had always been trapped together. Only now, that trap was literal.

Nemo sighed dramatically.

—Well, Red, looks like we’re in deeper trouble. What now? Do we wait for rescue or do you keep convincing yourself that you don’t care about me?—

Red Robin tried to keep his eyes away from the man, maintaining distance even though it was impossible in such a confined space. The tension in the air was undeniable. He lowered his gaze, frustrated, towards the man who still had the power to destabilize him.

—You’re going to shut up and stay still. I don’t want to hear you anymore.— he said, gritting his teeth, unable to deny that every word from Nemo did affect him.

The atmosphere was still heavy, filled with that mutual discomfort. They were both trapped, not just under the rubble, but by their intertwined fates. No way out, no clear answers.

But Nemo wasn’t someone who knew when to let go. He tilted his head, looking at Red Robin with that intensity that made the skin crawl.

—You know?— he murmured, in a lower tone, almost… sincere. —Sometimes I wonder what you’d be without me.—

Red Robin snapped his gaze up, his eyes burning with contained fury.

—I’d be free.—

Nemo chuckled softly, but this time, there was no mockery in it. Only something more tangled in the tense air between them.

—I don’t think so.—

Red Robin didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because, deep down, although he hated admitting it… Nemo was right.

A strange weight fell over him, as if, somehow, he had glanced at something he had always feared accepting. What would he be without the constant presence of Nemo, without the endless missions and confrontations that never seemed to end? He could live a quieter life, less frantic, less… destroyed. He could live a life less tormented by the decisions of a man he was always supposed to stop, who always overwhelmed him, who always forced him to question himself.

But what Red Robin couldn’t accept was that the absence of Nemo would mean the absence of everything he had been. His life, no matter how chaotic, seemed intertwined with that constant struggle.

Red Robin fell silent, looking away. A heavy sigh, loaded with mental exhaustion, escaped his lips. He didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between them, like an invisible wall that rose every time Nemo challenged him with those words.

Nemo didn’t miss a detail of Red Robin’s reaction. That pause, that silence… it was more eloquent than any biting response he could’ve given. He didn’t need words to know that he had touched something inside of him, something the hero didn’t want to face. The uncomfortable truth that, somehow, all of this was more personal than Red Robin wanted to admit.

For the first time in a long while, Nemo also fell silent. Not because he had nothing to say, but because, for some reason, he felt that breaking that moment would make it less real. And there was something in the air, something strange, that kept him there, in that suspended moment.

The air was thick, laden with dust and tension. The rubble continued to fall slowly, but what weighed more was the palpable discomfort between them. Red Robin was still over Nemo, their bodies too close, too intertwined in a mess Nemo himself had caused. Everything seemed frozen in that instant, as if nothing else could move, as if the universe had halted its course for a brief moment.

Finally, Nemo averted his gaze to nothingness, exhaling with a smile that was almost… tired.

—You don’t have to save me all the time, Red.—

It was the first time he had said something like that. No mockery, no provocation. Just a simple statement, almost resigned.

But Red Robin didn’t respond. And that silence, more than any word, left a truth hanging between them. Did he really need to save him? Why did he feel that persistent need? Doubt began to take root in his mind, but it wasn’t something he could cling to for long. The answer remained the same: if he didn’t do it, someone else would. But who? Would anyone else save him from himself?

Red Robin slightly lifted his gaze, almost as if he didn’t want to be seen. He looked at the man beneath him, this time without any signs of arrogance or superiority, something rare in Nemo. No games, no masks. Something strange was happening in that moment, and Red Robin couldn’t stop noticing it. But he refused to give it importance. He couldn’t let himself. He couldn’t give it the weight he thought it didn’t deserve. He had to stay distant, cold, even despite the physical closeness they were being forced into.

If he didn’t save him, who would? That question still lingered in his mind. And the answer remained empty.

Red Robin closed his eyes for a moment, as if doing so could push away the question that had formed in his mind. As if he could avoid the feeling that, no matter how many times he caught Nemo, how many times he put him in prison or tried to break this cycle, he would always end up back at the same point.

Because if he didn’t save him, no one else would.

He hated himself for thinking that way. Hated that, deep down, part of him felt that responsibility, as if Nemo were his problem, his burden. As if, in some twisted way, his fate was tied to his. Everything Bruce had taught him, everything Nightwing had lived with Slade… those lessons and that history still resonated in his mind. He couldn’t fall into the same trap. He couldn’t be his cross.

The cycle had to be broken.

—Stop talking nonsense.— he murmured finally, his tone lower, more opaque, as if trying to drown out that inner voice urging him to keep going.

Nemo smiled faintly, as if he knew exactly what was going through Red Robin’s mind. As if, deep down, he relished the fact that, no matter how much the hero tried to convince himself otherwise, he would always end up coming back to him.

—Whatever you say, Red.—

And, in that moment, Red Robin knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never fully escape the shadow of Nemo.

Silence enveloped them again, but this time, it wasn’t just the echo of the rubble… it was the weight of a truth neither of them was ready to admit.

Red considered changing the subject, forgetting about it. He thought about all the ways he could shake off that uncomfortable moment, that persistent feeling that had begun to tickle his mind. He finally sighed, grabbed Nemo’s shoulders, and tried to move him to make room, but it was impossible. Everything was too tight.

—Nemo, for God’s sake, you just need to move over, you’re taking up all the space… I can’t be on top of you the whole time.—

Nemo let out a low laugh, almost like a purr of amusement, that kind of laugh only he could make, one that completely shifted the tone of the atmosphere.

—Oh, Red, I didn’t know this bothered you so much.— he murmured with that soft voice, laced with barely concealed amusement. —And here I thought you were comfortable.—

Red Robin gritted his teeth, ignoring the heat rising to his neck, feeling how discomfort took over every muscle in his body.

—Nemo, I warn you…—

—Are you going to arrest me for taking up too much space?— the villain joked, but finally moved a little, just enough to give Red Robin some maneuvering room.

Of course, he did so with exaggerated slowness, as if savoring every second of the other’s discomfort.

—Alright, alright… though I’ll admit, this had its charm.—

Red Robin rolled his eyes, feeling the frustration bubbling inside him as he finally managed to get comfortable, turning his back to Nemo. As if that would make things easier, as if simply not looking at him could help him distance himself from the tension that still lingered between them.

—Tell me you at least have a plan,— Nemo said, his usual tone but without the usual sharp mockery, as if, for once, he were showing slight concern.

Red Robin didn’t answer right away. Because the truth was, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure how to get out of this. There was no easy solution, and being trapped under rubble only complicated things.

Red Robin opened the communicator on his wrist and tried to find any nearby electromagnetic signal, but due to the collapse, there was none left. Frustrated, he looked around. Nothing.

Nemo, amused by the situation, got closer to his back, sliding his hand along the fabric of the cape, pulling it slightly. Red Robin turned his head slightly, gritting his teeth and frowning. What was he doing now? Was he playing with him again?

—What the hell are you doing?— Red Robin spat, barely turning his face to shoot him a hard look.

But Nemo just smiled, unhurried, enjoying the situation far too much.

—Relax, Red. I’m just killing time…— he murmured, giving the cape an extra tug, as if the texture fascinated him. —Besides, I’ve always wanted to see how durable this is.—

Red Robin took a deep breath, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine from the contact. It wasn’t so much the gesture itself, but how unnecessary it was.

—Let go. Now.—

—You have to admit, this is an… interesting situation.— Nemo continued, ignoring the warning. —How many times have we been like this? Trapped. Locked in. Together.—

Red Robin furrowed his brow even more.

—This is the first time we’ve been buried under rubble, if that’s what you’re referring to.—

—I’m not talking about the rubble, Red.—

That response made him clench his fists. Because he knew what Nemo was implying, he knew he wasn’t just talking about the collapse, but the cycle they’d been trapped in for so long. The endless cycle, where they found themselves caught, with moments of tension and provocations that always kept them together, even in a twisted way.

Red Robin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the weight in his chest.

—If you really want to do something useful, help me find a way out, instead of… this.—

—Oh, but Red…— Nemo leaned in a bit more, his breath brushing the back of the hero’s neck. —This is much more fun.—

Red Robin felt a sharper cramp run from his neck down his back. His body went stiff, and he didn’t let Nemo see the reaction, but the silence said more than words. Red Robin turned, almost exhausted from the situation, and grabbed Nemo by the hair, pulling him back forcefully.

—I’m warning you, Nemo, I’m not playing.— He said, gritting his teeth.

Nemo let out a stuttered gasp, more from surprise than pain. His smile curved slowly, as if the hair tug wasn’t a warning, but an encouragement to push further.

—Oh, Red…— he murmured, his voice rough from the position he was trapped in. —That’s what I like most about you.—

Red Robin stared at him with contained fury, his fingers still tangled in Nemo’s hair. He didn’t want to give him more room to play, didn’t want to fall into his rhythm, but everything about him was designed to provoke him.

—Don’t tempt me.— he warned, his voice lower, more gravelly.

But Nemo just laughed, leaning as much as he could with his head still trapped between Red Robin’s fingers.

—What if I do? Are you going to stop me? Or will you just keep… reacting?—

That last word was loaded with meaning. And the worst part was that he was right. Red Robin was reacting. He was responding, instead of ignoring him, instead of keeping a cool head. And that only gave Nemo more power.

With a frustrated grunt, Red Robin released him abruptly, pushing him slightly to create some distance. He moved as far as the limited space allowed, taking a deep breath to calm the tension in his body.

—You know, Red.— Nemo said lightly, massaging his scalp where he’d grabbed it. —If you keep touching me like that, it’s going to be hard for me to believe you don’t want to play.—

Red Robin didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Deep down, he hated how much Nemo enjoyed all of this. And what was worse… he hated how much he was starting to feel it too. The weight of the tension, that uncomfortable feeling, was growing, and he couldn’t deny it.

Red Robin tightened his gaze on Nemo, a fire inside him that only wanted to extinguish itself somehow. What the hell was he playing at now? With unrelenting seriousness, he responded.

—I don’t recommend you push it, Nemo, or I’ll add sexual harassment to your penitentiary report.—

Nemo blinked a couple of times, but it wasn’t long before his low, deep laugh filled the small space they were trapped in, like a distant echo that only heightened the discomfort of the situation.

—Well, Red…— he murmured with genuine amusement. —I didn’t know you had such a sharp sense of humor.—

Red Robin didn’t smile. His face remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Nemo, as if trying to pierce him with it. He wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of any reaction beyond his warning. But Nemo, as always, enjoyed controlling the situation.

—You know what’s the best part?— he continued, with that playful smile that only heightened the tension. —That for that to have weight in my report, you’d have to admit you felt something.—

Red Robin narrowed his eyes, a mix of fury and exhaustion on his face.

—No. I just have to make note that you’re a damn nuisance.—

—Oh, Red, everyone already knows that. But what no one knows is how much this ‘nuisance’ affects you.—

Silence fell again between them, but this time Red Robin didn’t stay waiting for the next provocation. His voice became firm, almost like a mantra to calm himself.

—I’m getting us out of here.—

His tone was unwavering, as if trying to convince himself that this was the only thing that mattered. He ignored the laughter still vibrating in his ear, the persistent heat on his skin, and the discomfort of being so close to Nemo. He turned and began to search the rubble again, analyzing every crack, looking for an exit, any way to escape.

But he couldn’t avoid hearing the quiet whisper that came from behind him.

—Too bad… I could stay a little longer.—

Red Robin clenched his teeth tightly, feeling the frustration build in his chest.

—Typical… once we’re out of here, I plan to lock you up again.—

He said with a firm, annoyed tone as he groped every wall around, trying to find the weakest one.

Nemo, as usual, didn’t stop. His only mission at that moment was to provoke him. See how he’d react. And he liked what he saw.

He tilted his head, watching every movement Red Robin made with that sharp gleam in his eyes, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

—Wow, Red…— he murmured with fake disappointment. —You say that like it’s the last time you’ll try.—

Red Robin ignored his tone, focusing on his task. But Nemo wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

—You know?— he continued, with a thoughtful air that only increased the tension. —Sometimes I wonder… what will you do when you actually succeed? When they finally lock me up in Arkham and I can’t get out.—

Red Robin kept feeling around the weakest wall, but his jaw tightened when he heard Nemo’s words.

—I’ll have one less thing to worry about in my life.—

Nemo leaned a bit, his voice sliding smoothly, so close to Red Robin that he could almost feel the warmth of his breath.

—Is that what you think?— he said with a twisted smile, brushing the limits of provocation. —Or will you feel like you’re missing something?—

Red Robin stopped for a second, just a brief flicker of doubt before he went back to work. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t want to acknowledge it. But the truth was, Nemo was right. Part of him knew there would always be something more, something that kept him trapped in this endless cycle.

Nemo smiled. And it wasn’t a kind smile. It was that twisted smile he knew Red Robin couldn’t ignore.

—Because, let’s be honest, Red… if I weren’t here, what would you do with all the time you spend on me?—

Red Robin slammed the rubble harder than necessary, his breath more ragged from frustration than physical effort, not daring to look at him. His body tense, charged with contained energy that only increased the tension in the air.

—Anyone would think you’re the obsessed one.—

Nemo let out a low, vibrating laugh, like an electric current running between them, his presence expanding. He leaned in even more, bringing his lips dangerously close to Red Robin’s ear, his warm breath brushing his skin with an invisible caress.

—Oh, but if I’m obsessed…— he whispered, his voice a dangerous melody, —what does that say about you?—

Red Robin closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling the tension build in his chest. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, but the growing discomfort made him burn inside. He wasn’t going to fall into his game. Not this time.

With a huff, he used his strength to strike the wall he’d identified as the weakest, making some rubble give way with a loud crash.

—It says I’m getting out of here. With you or without you.—

Nemo smiled, that cold satisfaction on his face, as if he already knew what was going through Red Robin’s mind. Because deep down, he knew him too well. He knew that no matter how much Red Robin denied it… he would never leave him behind.

With an unexpected move, Nemo stretched out his handcuffed arms and pulled on Red Robin’s wrist, stopping him with a strength that surprised him. It wasn’t the moment to escape, not for Nemo. He wanted this agony to last longer, for Red Robin to feel trapped in his own helplessness.

In the blink of an eye, Nemo positioned himself over Red Robin, the weight of his body pinning the hero to the floor, while his handcuffed hands kept him immobilized. Red Robin, who hadn’t had time to react, found himself with his back on the ground, breathing heavily, not just from the physical effort, but from the surprise that the villain’s speed had generated.

—What the hell do you think you’re doing? —Red Robin spat, his voice cracking with fury, but also with an unease that filtered through his words.

Nemo grinned widely, enjoying the control, the power he had over Red Robin at that moment. He leaned in slightly, bringing his face close to the hero’s, making their lips dangerously near his ear.

—Just making sure you don’t ruin the fun too quickly.

Red Robin struggled, his body tensing, but the cramped space and the uncomfortable position of having Nemo on top of him kept him trapped, unable to move without shifting the debris around them.

—This isn’t a game, Nemo.

—Isn’t it? —the villain whispered, his gaze dripping with intensity, a dangerous spark ignited in his eyes—. Because to me, it seems like we’ve been playing the same one for years.

The tension between them grew until it became palpable, like a taut rope about to snap. Red Robin could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears, the frantic rhythm of his breathing. Not just from the rage consuming him, but from something deeper, something he didn’t want to accept or allow.

With a swift movement, he used the minimal mobility he had left and twisted his body, reversing their positions. Now he had Nemo trapped beneath him, his hands firmly on the villain’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, his gaze fixed on Nemo’s eyes, burning with contained fury.

—If you keep testing my patience, you’ll see what happens when I really snap.

Nemo let out a chuckle, amused despite being trapped.

—Oh, Red… that’s exactly what I want to see.

Red Robin’s body tensed even more, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. To Nemo, everything was a game, a dirty game to destabilize him, to push him to his limit. And that irritated him. With silent fury, Red Robin grabbed Nemo’s face, his fingers squeezing the villain’s jaw with such force that he could barely move. He wanted him to look at him, to feel the weight of his warning.

—What exactly do you want to see, huh? Say it, Nemo, because this situation is just pissing me off more and more.

Nemo let out a sharp gasp, not from pain, but from the strength with which Red Robin held him. His irregular breathing, the darkening gleam in his eyes, turned into something more dangerous than just a provocation. There was something in his gaze that had nothing to do with their usual game.

—That. —His voice slid into a whisper, heavy with something indecipherable, a silent desire—. That.

Red Robin clenched his jaw tighter, his fingers still dug into Nemo’s skin. The tension amplified, the atmosphere thick, almost suffocating. He couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to pull away.

—Stop speaking in riddles and say it already.

Nemo narrowed his eyes, his smile crooked, like a bold provocation. He knew he was touching Red Robin’s weak point.

—I want to see you lose control.

The silence that followed was brutal. Heavy. Like a bomb about to explode.

Red Robin felt the rage burning in his throat, but the worst part was that it wasn’t just anger. There was something deeper, something he didn’t want to admit or unleash. Something that terrified him. Nemo knew. He saw it in every tense movement of his body, in every labored breath.

—It’s not going to happen —Red Robin growled, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Nemo smiled wider, as if that same frustrated growl was exactly what he had been waiting for.

—It’s already happening.

And the worst part was that, for the first time, Red Robin wasn’t so sure whether he wanted to stop it.

Red Robin fixed his gaze on Nemo’s, sliding his thumb over the villain’s lip, pressing lightly there while his other fingers remained dug into his face. His face remained impassive, but his body was tense, like a taut rope about to snap. He didn’t say anything, just watched him with that cold intensity that sometimes defined him, holding back, trying not to give in.

Nemo parted his lips, not out of discomfort, but because of the intensity of the touch. His gaze was fixed on Red Robin’s eyes, defiant, not looking away or retreating.

And then, slowly, calculated, he barely extended his tongue, shamelessly brushing against Red Robin’s thumb.

It wasn’t an accidental gesture. It was intentional. A silent challenge. A provocation loaded with something deeper than a simple taunt.

Red Robin felt a shiver run down his spine, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. Not yet. His grip tightened a little more, his breath heavier, and his body restless, as if he wanted to take control of something slipping away from him.

Nemo smiled against his skin, with dark satisfaction, relishing the contained reaction he could feel vibrating through the hero’s body.

—Come on, Red… —he murmured, his voice rough, like a soft poison seeping into his mind—. Let go of control.

The tension between them reached an unbearable point. Like a rope on the verge of snapping. Like fire threatening to consume everything.

Red Robin softened his gaze, but he didn’t look away from Nemo. Despite the coldness in his eyes, his breathing was still erratic, out of control, as if he couldn’t contain the intensity of what he felt. He tried to remain calm, but there was something in Nemo’s touch, something in his gaze, that made him question whether he really wanted to end it all.

Nemo let out a broken sigh, his lips parting further around Red Robin’s thumb. His tongue slowly grazed the fabric of the glove, as if savoring the moment. As if enjoying the contained reaction he could feel vibrating through Red Robin’s body.

His gaze didn’t leave Red Robin’s. There was something dark and twistedly satisfied in those eyes, something that had nothing to do with the usual game. This time, it wasn’t just about irritating him. It wasn’t just about pushing him.

It was because he wanted to see him break.

Red Robin clenched his jaw. He knew he should pull away, let go, stop it before they crossed a line he couldn’t uncross. But his hand didn’t move. His breathing was still erratic, his eyes fixed on Nemo’s with an intensity that had nothing to do with anger.

It was something else.

Nemo smiled around his thumb, his tongue sliding over it with a slow, almost sensual touch, before releasing it with a soft pop.

—Well, Red… —he whispered, his voice rough and laden with poison—. I think I almost got you.

But Red Robin didn’t move. Not this time.

With relentless determination, he slid his hand from Nemo’s face to his neck, gripping it firmly, not with violence, but with a possessiveness that was all danger.

—Do you think this is a game? —he murmured, his voice low, hoarse, and dangerous.

Nemo let out a laugh, though it sounded somewhat erratic, more real than he intended.

—You tell me, Red… —he leaned in a little closer, the challenge in his eyes setting the air on fire—. Who’s playing now?

Red Robin tightened his grip on Nemo’s neck, knowing exactly where to apply pressure. He wasn’t taking away his air, but he was stealing something far more crucial: control.

Nemo’s back arched under Red Robin’s weight, but there was no resistance. Only a broken laugh when the hero’s fingers returned to rest on his lips, this time with more intent, more force, as if he wanted to silence him forever.

Nemo didn’t hesitate to capture Red Robin’s fingers with his tongue, his gesture hot and wet, a shameless provocation, almost mocking. His eyes never left Red Robin’s, intense, dark, as if challenging every move and, at the same time, enjoying the submission he provoked without lifting a finger.

Red Robin felt a shiver run through his body, but he didn’t move his hand. Not this time. He kept his gaze fixed, his breath still heavy, and tightened his grip on Nemo’s jaw, feeling the warmth of his mouth around his fingers, as the villain’s tongue wrapped around them with a dangerous naturalness.

Nemo let out a low sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, as if the situation was beyond his control but, at the same time, completely under his will.

Who’s playing now?

The question hung between them, burning with force, but Red Robin had no intention of answering. He just tightened his grip, diving deeper into the game, showing Nemo that if this was going to be a challenge, he would play by his own rules.

The warmth of Nemo’s saliva on his fingers enveloped him, a tempting touch, a caress that made him lose some of his sanity. Every fiber of his being urged him to pull back, to take control of the situation, but his body responded to something more than logic.

The atmosphere between them grew thicker, charged with palpable tension, as if the space around them was compressing, pressing toward a point of no return. Red Robin felt his control begin to crumble, his composure slipping away with every provocative glance from Nemo, with every defiant touch he made in response.

Nemo knew exactly how to push Red Robin to the limit, how to destabilize him with every gesture, every glance.

—Come on, Red… —he whispered, his voice raspy, like an invitation, like a provocation—. Don’t hold back so much. What’s the worst that can happen?

Red Robin didn’t respond, but his breathing grew heavier, a conscious effort to remain in control, even though what he really wanted was to step away from that fine line between control and chaos. But he couldn’t. Something inside him kept him there, trapped in this game he couldn’t escape.

His thumb moved slowly over Nemo’s tongue, a subtle gesture, but one that made everything feel even more dangerous. Every part of him screamed to pull away, to stop, but deep inside, something held him there, something that kept him firmly in that moment, unable to take a step back.

The tension reached such an extreme point that any movement, any breath, seemed to have the power to bring everything crashing down.

Red Robin caught Nemo’s tongue, tightening his fingers with more force, and the sound that came from Nemo’s throat destabilized Robin even more than he already was. He brought his face closer to his, and with a defiant gesture, he pulled Nemo’s tongue from his mouth, licking it possessively as he tightened his grip on his neck, making it clear who was in charge at that moment.

Nemo’s muffled sigh echoed in the air, a sound that seemed to cut the tension between them, but at the same time, it intensified it in a dangerous way. Red Robin felt a shiver run down his spine. The brush of their tongues was a dark and twisted act, a gesture charged with electricity and challenge, both verbal and physical. The pressure on Nemo’s neck wasn’t about the desire to dominate him, but something more primitive, visceral, that Red Robin didn’t want to acknowledge.

Nemo didn’t pull away. He didn’t retreat. On the contrary, he let out a low laugh, almost mocking, despite the pain he felt in both his tongue and his neck.

Red Robin couldn’t pull away. The intensity of the moment kept him there, feeling how the power struggle they shared was woven in a tense silence, filled with something much darker than what he was willing to face.

But he couldn’t let go.

The rational part of him fought against the visceral one, the one pushing him beyond his own limits, daring him to go further.

“Shut up, or I’ll make sure you don’t leave here in one piece.” His voice was rough, filled with rage, as if crossing that line was something he had been trying to avoid for far too long.

With Nemo’s neck still between his fingers, Robin leaned toward him again, their teeth clashing with fury as he devoured his mouth desperately, frustrated but also needing that primal contact.

The air between them grew thick, almost suffocating. Red Robin’s rage was like an overflowing torrent, and Nemo knew it. He could feel the tension in every muscle of his opponent, the restrained anger that was now spilling over, the real threat in his words. But that didn’t stop him.

When Red Robin moved closer, fury and desire fused in such a way that neither of them could stop it. Their teeth clashed again, and then, the brutality of their mouths joined in a wild kiss, like a storm that left nothing untouched. Nemo responded instantly, with the same energy, letting himself be carried away by the fury of the moment, without brakes, without reservations.

The friction of their bodies, the heat of their breaths, was all that remained between them. Red Robin’s fingers tightened around Nemo’s neck, while his other hand grasped him desperately, as if by touching him, he could free himself from the frustration that had built up over the years.

Nemo, for his part, didn’t seem to be trying to stop him. On the contrary, his hands rose, and along with his cuffs, they slid down Red Robin’s chest, pulling his body closer, as if he enjoyed that sensation, that ever-blurring line between violence and something more.

—This is what you want, isn’t it? —murmured Nemo between kisses, his voice low and defiant—. What you’ve been avoiding all this time?

Red Robin didn’t respond. His mind was clouded, his thoughts dissolving between rage, desire, and confusion. Every touch, every brush, pushed him further than he thought he could control. But there was no going back.

Nemo smiled, still caught in the kiss, as if chaos was completely on his side.

When Robin brought his finger back to Nemo’s mouth, seeking that contact once again, his mind was on the edge, crumbling between what he desired and what he knew he shouldn’t. But Nemo, as always, dragged him further than reason would allow. With the same provocation, with the same shameless acceptance, he received it, as if he had been waiting for that response.

Robin’s hand slid into his hair, gripping it tightly but with an unsettling softness, as if he enjoyed seeing Nemo in that state.

Red Robin’s voice came out hoarse, filled with everything that was happening.

—No, Nemo… —he whispered, his breath heavy, his words full of frustration, rage, and desire—. This is what you wanted.

Nemo smiled against the fabric of his glove, his eyes gleaming with dangerous satisfaction, as if everything was part of a plan only he understood. His tongue slid across it with a destructive calm.

The atmosphere, charged with dangerous electricity, seemed about to explode at any moment. They were both trapped in something they could no longer control, something they could no longer define.

With a voice almost choked and frustration between his teeth, Robin spoke:

—Would you?

Nemo looked up at him, puzzled. Robin pulled her finger out of her mouth brushing her lower lip and rubbing both their bodies together, looking to feel that friction. His body feeling that tension getting tighter and tighter in his body, about to give in to what was happening.With his voice cracking he asked again.

— Would you use your mouth?

The atmosphere was becoming even denser, charged with a desire that could not be undone, a tension that tightened the air around them. Red Robin's words floated in the space between them, almost like an invitation to chaos. The question was loaded, a direct challenge to everything they had both vowed to avoid.

Nemo, with his fierce gaze and a crooked smirk, watched Red Robin in silence, as if assessing not only his words, but every movement, every gesture on his body. His expression remained serene, but his eyes shone with the same spark as always, as if he had been waiting for that moment, that surrender, however momentary.

—That depends…— he murmured softly, almost as a whisper, savoring the power of every word, every reaction he got from Robin. The question had not only surprised him, but had also pushed him further into the game, beyond any limits they had both set for themselves.

Robin could feel the friction between their bodies increasing, what should have been a simple touch becoming something deeper, something that burned him inside. The helplessness of not being able to take complete control of the situation turned his stomach, but it kept him there, trapped. His body kept responding, his mind overflowing with every thought he didn't want to let grow.

Nemo, in an unexpected move, slid a hand down Robin's torso, stroking with deliberation, as if drawing a line that was not to be crossed, but still, inviting him to follow.

—If I did... what would you do, Robin? —he asked, almost with an innocent tone, but his eyes reflected something darker, something that didn't require an answer to understand.

Robin's heavy laughter mingled with their halting breaths, with the unbearable heat of that small space where there was no turning back now. His grip on Nemo's hair intensified, his voice husky and charged with something even he couldn't fully define.

Robin could feel that bold hand sliding down his back, pulling him further into his body.

— Keep your mouth busy.— Robin tugged lightly on Nemo's hair, showing him a bit of that intention he would have with him.

Nemo let Robin dominate him at that moment, his head tilted back by the force of his hand, his neck exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. His dark eyes watched him with a spark of dangerous satisfaction, as if he was enjoying having pushed Red Robin to that point of no return.

—Oh, Red…— she murmured in a breathy voice, a crooked smile curving her lips. If you think you can teach me a lesson, then I wish you luck.

The movement of their bodies was minimal, but the friction spoke volumes. Robin could feel the pressure on every part of him, the way Nemo's body molded to his, as if mocking his need for control.

—And if you're going to give me a job…— continued Nemo, his voice low, almost a whisper against his ear. You better be sure you can handle what you're asking.

Robin tightened his grip on Nemo's hair, drawing so close that there was barely any air left between them. His gaze was sharp, charged with fury and something darker, something he couldn't name.

—I can always handle it, Nemo.— he whispered fiercely. The question is whether you can.

Robin slid his face down Nemo's neck, breathing heavily against his skin, the atmosphere was unbearably thick, every touch, every movement, sinking them both deeper into something they couldn't even name. Robin breathed against Nemo's skin, soaking in his essence, letting desire, rage and need mingle in his mind until he didn't know which one dominated more. She thought of nothing else but biting him, leaving the mark that he had passed by. He was still holding her hair tightly leaving her neck exposed for him. Red made a firmer hip movement, to make it clear who was taking control of the situation. —Nemo… —He whispered her name in a loaded voice, against her neck, almost desperate to sink his teeth in there. —Are you going to be a good boy this time?

When he bit into her neck, he did it with the intention of leaving a mark, of making sure Nemo would feel that even after they were out of there. The tug on his hair only intensified the sensation, exposing him even more to her dominance.

The firm movement of her hips against Nemo's caused a sigh to escape Nemo's lips, but his attitude did not change. Despite being under Robin's control at that moment, she still maintained that defiant air, that way of looking at him that said she was enjoying it more than she should.

When Robin whispered her name against his neck, the tension peaked. The question hovered in the air between them, charged with anticipation.

Nemo smiled, that damned smile of his that never quite disappeared, even at times like that.

—A good boy? —He repeated in a low, dragging voice, letting the warmth of his breath collide against Robin's skin. — For you?

Robin felt Nemo move slightly under him, not to resist, but to challenge him even more. Her body arched just a little, pressing herself more against him, as if to gauge how far she could push him.

—I don't know, Red.— Nemo continued in his teasing tone. — It depends on how you convince me.

It was a challenge. One more provocation. As usual.

But this time, Robin was no longer in a position to ignore him.

Red Robin released his hair and put one of his hands under the man's jacket, starting to unbutton his shirt, something difficult at that moment when one had no patience to go from button to button, so he gave a tug breaking several of his buttons and then put his hand there and started to feel his skin. What started out as a game, one more provocation in their endless tug-of-war, had long since ceased to be. Robin felt his own barriers crumble with every touch, with every restrained gasp that escaped his throat without permission. Nemo had always known how to push him over the edge, but this time it wasn't just sharp words or challenges cloaked in smiles. This time it was real.

The sound of buttons popping under the force of his hand echoed in the cramped space, followed by the warmth of his palm exploring Nemo's bare skin, feeling the shudder of his breath, the slight shudder that ran through his body as his fingers slid over him. It was warm. Tempting.

Robin's lips found the exposed skin of his neck, devouring, biting, licking, sucking, leaving marks that he knew would not easily disappear. It was silent proof that he had been there, that, for once, Nemo was not in complete control. His mouth traveled to her ear, his hot breath crashing against it as he held back the rush of sensations that washed over him.

But Nemo, even in that situation, was not giving up so easily. His breathing was ragged, yes, but his sly smile still lingered, barely perceptible in the gloom.

—Wow, Red…— his voice sounded hoarse, cracked, but still tinged with that teasing tone that drove him crazy.— If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask.

Robin clenched his jaw, his hand sliding harder over her skin, his fingers digging in firmly as a warning.

—Shut up.

And this time, it wasn't an empty threat.

His arm around his hunched back, holding Nemo close to him, his other hand on his thigh, sliding dangerously making Nemo tremble and hold back less.

What began as a struggle had become darker, deeper, more inevitable. Robin was no longer thinking about the consequences, or what it meant outside that confined space. He just felt. And that feeling burned him, made him lose himself more in every movement, in every choked gasp he tore from Nemo's lips.

His tongue ran along the warm, exposed skin of his chest, leaving a wet trail before closing his teeth over the most sensitive spot, wrenching an involuntary shudder from him. Robin felt it in her arched back, in the way her body reacted to his every touch. Her grip intensified, her arm clutching him tighter, as if she wanted to make sure Nemo wouldn't escape this...that neither of them would.

Her other hand slid with calculated slowness, descending on his thigh, intent on teasing, on wrenching away the control he so loved to pretend he had. And when her fingers pressed there, firm, Nemo tensed beneath him, his body betraying him with a reaction that said more than any words.

They both lost control, crossed that line that, they knew, they would eventually regret. The man unbuckled Nemo's belt with freezing speed, with a defiant look on his face and a nasal laugh at seeing Nemo like that. He grabbed him by the handcuffs, yanked him down and placed him face down in the cramped space. Robin held the man's neck, lifting his face slightly as he tried to lift his hips to help him pull down his pants with the same energy and desperation to calm the heat that overflowed from every part of both their bodies. With his teeth Robin undid his glove, slid his hand slowly over his underwear,feeling every crease, every throbbing in the area. He dared to whisper close to her ear.

— Nemo... Now no one is going to come and save you.

Nemo felt a shiver run down his back, yet in response he let out a weak laugh at the grip on his neck, soon his whole body trembled, preventing him from continuing with that defiant tone. Robin was slipping a hand under the fabric, little by little.

Nemo wanted to turn around, he needed to see it, but as soon as Red realized his intention, he pressed his neck again and landed on his body to prevent him from doing so.

— If we are going to do this, it will be under my conditions, Nemo... I don't want to hear you, I don't want to see you, I don't even want to feel your breathing.— replied the man in response to his attempts. Robin, between his fingers, grabbed Nemo's fabric and pulled it down, leaving his skin exposed. After exerting a final pressure on his neck as a warning, Robin hurried to position herself on top of him, blocking him with the weight of her legs. With almost shattering patience, Red unbuckled his tool belt watching the scene of Nemo beneath him, his hands cuffed and his breathing slightly labored. Nemo despite the situation just kept silent, something quite rare for the man, letting his opposite control the situation.

Nemo leaning on his forearms dipped his head down, letting his hair fall over his face, enjoying Robin's presence above him, reveling in the sound of the belt opening and setting it aside, away from the scene. The man sketched one last smile until he felt Robin drop a warm trickle of saliva over a sensitive area. Nemo tensed slightly, expectant of his next move. Robin's fingers moved over that area, letting the saliva take center stage, wrapped an arm around his torso and pressed against his back. Robin massaged there with clear intent, until she felt that one area was not as usual as it should be. A sly smile crept across the man's face, leaning slightly toward his ear.

Nemo let out a stifled sigh, as he gave a half-smile at the sensation of the fingers in that area.

—Yes... you can choose... isn't it wonderful?— he said with a hint of sarcasm and amusement.

Robin narrowed his eyes, observing Nemo's defiant attitude, which never seemed to budge even in this situation. Robin with his sturdy hand grabbed Nemo's head and forced downward, leaving his face on the floor, his cheek rubbing intensely there. His two fingers pushed into his main entrance, giving him no respite to react to anything, and as he did so, his fingertips searched for that rough part inside, a slightly more swollen one, one that he knew if he found it would not give him respite a second longer. Robin massaged there with just enough force and the tranquility of doing a job he seemed to know perfectly well, his fingertips downward as he felt Nemo's legs tense and tremble slightly with each touch he made to the area.

He knew he was rubbing the right area, because Nemo didn't respond, just breathing heavily as his hands clutched the ground lifting his hips slightly, seeking more of that contact. Red released his head, amused, this time his hand came to rest on Nemo's lower back and pushed down, causing the area to tighten further, still with his fingers inside. That only caused the man to let out a groan as he felt the intensity with which his insides were being squeezed. Red let out a heavy sigh after that, one that let it show how desperate he felt to use that area. He withdrew his fingers from there, impregnating his entrance with the residual essence.

Nemo was breathing agitated, wanting more of that contact and her touches. Robin took it upon herself to let him know that this moment wasn't going to take much longer, firmly something other than her fingers moved in, sliding into the area almost as a bodily reflex. Instantly, as if Robin already knew Nemo's body, he found a way to break through, entering with a sudden lunge. Nemo's body jumped, startled by the sensation and his strength. Robin on top of Nemo's body, his hands holding his waist so he wouldn't escape from him, he didn't decide to move yet, he wanted to feel how this enveloped him, how he clenched at his touch and how warm he was in there. Robin sighed in pleasure, as he tried to push himself in further, to feel how he could envelop him all the way. Nemo trembled as his hips jerked forward from the inertia, but Robin wouldn't let him escape, his body following him and clinging to him by squeezing his waist and pulling him in.

—Where are you going…— Robin said in a voice heavy and almost hoarse with pleasure. —We've just started…— After that he began to move slowly, letting every fold rub against him. Nemo stifled his moans as his forearms clung to the floor.

Robin soon lifted Nemo's hips, positioned himself in an easier position to pick up the pace and continued to lunge against his body as he panted on his back slightly bent towards him. The contact of their two skins felt like a burning fire that wouldn't cease, it only fanned more and more. Robin needed much more than that, he felt his as body tensed with each thrust, as Nemo shuddered with each movement and shrank beneath him.

—Very good... very good… — Red said without any control over what was coming out of his mouth, moving him with more inertia, raising the intensity of his breaths.

Nemo let out a whimper, a breathy one, as if he was restraining himself from raising his voice too much, or perhaps from showing how much he was enjoying the situation. Robin looked up weakly, consumed by the pleasure of each movement, watching Nemo hidden in his arms, between choked moans and shudders. The boy's back strained in front of him and his hips lifted with each intense contact.

Red enjoyed that view, but it was not enough, he wanted to see Nemo devastated, destroyed.

—Come on Nemo... you can do better,— he said with a mocking tone, grabbing him by the arm to slightly reposition his back. Nemo let out a gasp at the contact, he let himself be done with a heavy head, he felt he couldn't think clearly at that moment.

Robin gave a slightly mischievous grin at the sight of him like that, deciding to turn him over, lay him on his back and finish what he had started. With some difficulty, because of the confined space, he managed to turn him violently, positioned himself on top of him again and soon plunged back inside him, continuing with the same intensity as before. Nemo only spread his legs wider for him, causing Robin to lift his hips with both hands over that area.

He reflexively grabbed his hair in pleasure, his legs spread wide for Robin as he moved greedily and impatiently over Nemo. Robin had no qualms about watching the scene, while Nemo dodged his gaze, something that unnerved his opponent. He soon grabbed her face firmly to expose it to his eyes.

—What's the matter, are you embarrassed now?—

Robin didn't let go of his face, but rather exerted more pressure there, letting Nemo's tense eyes hold his gaze. Soon those eyes relaxed, narrowed in pleasure as his mouth opened slightly to release noises.

—R-Robin…— A breathy voice came from his wet lips, a spark that fanned the man's sensation against his body. He opened his eyes a little wider, as if he didn't want to miss any of it, expectantly. Nemo tensed a lot more, more cramping through his body. That's when one of Nemo's hands landed on Red's forearm, digging his fingers into the skin. Nemo jumped with each lunge, as if his body wanted to escape that inevitable end. As his eyes were lost in the nothingness, for a second he stopped letting out noises through his mouth. Robin didn't stop, she rammed him with the urgency to reach him, to do it at the same time as him, she knew that Nemo was melting between her hands and she couldn't stay behind, she didn't want to.

—Are you going to cum? Are you going to cum just because I'm doing this to you?— Robin said with a hint of defiance and provocation, even though he was about to get it too. — Afh... Nemo... where do you want me to do it...? — Nemo couldn't answer, his mouth opened wider as his spine arched back up again, but this time louder, more breathy. —Nemo... Nemo…— Robin said in a thicker, tighter voice. — I'm going to do it inside... I'm going to… — Nemo's eyes widened, his body arched instinctively, shaken by a wave of ecstasy that flashed across his skin like lightning. A pleasurable shudder took hold of his hips, ascending in electrifying spirals up his spine, leaving him breathless. Robin at the sight of it let out a moan of pleasure, almost frustrated, exasperated and vulnerable, he couldn't take any more than that, Red followed it by giving his body one last jolt, feeling his body react instinctively to the pleasure, teetering dangerously on the edge of that precipice, where desire and surrender intertwined in a single unbridled heartbeat.

Red Robin collapsed onto Nemo, his body still trembling from the intensity of that explosion of sensations. The air was thick, loaded with everything that had just happened between them. Robin could still feel the residual spasms running through his body, his chest rising and falling with difficulty as he tried to catch his breath. His forehead rested against Nemo’s shoulder, feeling the accelerated heartbeat beneath him, that pulse mirroring exactly how he felt himself.

For a moment, there was only silence. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. As if saying something would break the fragile balance they were in now. As if admitting what they had just done would make it real, irreversible.

Robin closed his eyes for a moment, his mind dazed by the wave of sensations and thoughts swirling in his head. He couldn’t afford to think too much about it. Not now.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he placed one hand on the ground to sit up slightly, but without fully pulling away. His eyes met Nemo’s, who was looking at him with that same mixture of exhaustion, satisfaction, and something else… something Robin wasn’t sure he wanted to decipher at that moment.

He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Only one certainty remained, deep and dangerous: what had happened between them wouldn’t stay buried beneath those ruins.

Robin swallowed hard when he saw Nemo, when he felt that gaze upon him. He sighed and averted his eyes slightly as he raised a hand to his head, stroking it almost as if rewarding him for behaving… well?

Robin swallowed again when he saw Nemo, trapped in the intensity of that fixed gaze on him. A sigh escaped his lips as he barely looked away, as if he needed a break from everything that moment implied. Without thinking too much, he placed a hand on Nemo’s head, caressing it with unexpected gentleness, almost as if rewarding him for having… behaved well?

—Not bad, Nemo… Now stay like that, calm and… quiet.— Robin’s voice sounded rough, accompanied by an uncomfortable cough, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle what had just occurred.

Nemo raised an eyebrow, still recovering, his body lightly vibrating with the echoes of pleasure. He propped himself up with his arms on the ground and leaned toward Robin, letting out a low, breathless laugh. His smile, crooked and provocative as always, hid something else in his eyes… something softer. Exhaustion? Satisfaction? Maybe both. But there he was again, the same old Nemo, mocking, defiant, as if nothing could truly break him.

—Well, Red… If I had known that’s how you reward good behavior, maybe I would have behaved better from the start.

Robin clenched his jaw, his gaze avoiding Nemo, but his hands still remained on him, though now without applying pressure. His skin burned under his touch, as if the mere closeness was a constant reminder of what they had just done. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t even know how to process it. His mind was in absolute chaos, a whirlwind of contradictory impulses. His whole body screamed that this had been a mistake, an unforgivable one. But his fingers, unable to pull away, told a different story.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and dense, until Robin, with his face still flushed, gathered enough willpower to regain some control.

—Don’t get confused, Nemo. This changes nothing.

The words were firm, spoken with the harshness of someone clinging to a certainty that might not even exist. But his voice… his voice betrayed something deeper, something he didn’t even want to admit. Nemo softened that mocking smile.

After a few seconds of silence where Nemo simply didn’t add anything more, Robin narrowed his eyes and, without leaning too far away, bent over him, coming only a few centimeters from his face. His breath was still uneven, but his tone was lower when he asked:

—Are you okay?

It was a simple, almost mundane question, but at that moment it weighed more than Robin wanted to admit.

Nemo stayed still, as if the question had caught him by surprise. His breath was still irregular, his gaze met Robin’s, and in it was that same defiant spark as always, but also something else… something Robin couldn’t decipher.

—I never thought you’d say something like that…— he murmured, his crooked smile barely visible, as if irony and exhaustion were mixing in his tone. —But… yeah, I guess I’m fine.— Despite everything they had just done, his expression was calm, as if in that moment he found a strange kind of peace, a balance within the chaos.

—And you?— he asked, his tone barely a whisper. —You’re still doing what you always do… playing the hero, but with something else, right?

The smile on his lips was subtle, but his words hinted that something had changed. Even though neither of them wanted to admit it.

Robin held his gaze more firmly, his body still tense. He knew what Nemo was trying to do. He knew that every word could be a hook, a trap woven with his usual game. And although they had crossed a line they should never have crossed, he couldn’t afford to fall further.

—I’m not playing, Nemo.— he declared, his voice rough but determined.

Finally, Robin sighed, trying to impose himself over his own thoughts. He leaned down and began pulling up Nemo’s pants, his movements awkward but firm.

—Come on… no one can see us like this. I’ll help you.

His tone sounded more like an order than an offer, but he couldn’t help it. Nemo was still handcuffed, still beneath him, and the image they were projecting wasn’t something Robin could process for much longer without losing the little self-control he had left.

Nemo watched him in silence, his expression hard to read. There was no mockery, no immediate provocations, just an unusual stillness. He stayed still as Robin pulled up his clothes, and although his nature had never been to stay quiet, in that moment he seemed to have no need to speak.

But when Robin finished, when his hands were still resting on him, Nemo let out something unexpected.

—Thanks… for helping me.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a game. There were no double meanings in his voice. Just honesty. Raw, direct, unembellished.

Robin looked up, surprised by the genuine tone in Nemo’s words. It was the first time he had heard a “thank you” from his mouth without sarcasm. And though his face remained serious, something in his gaze faltered.

Without knowing why, without thinking too much, his hand slid to Nemo’s hair, brushing it gently away from his face. It was a brief gesture, almost insignificant, but enough for him to lean slightly over him and brush the corner of his lips with a kiss.

There was no urgency or desperation in that contact. It was barely a touch, a gesture too soft for what they usually were. But its simplicity made it more dangerous than anything else.

Nemo stayed still. His gaze, fixed on Robin, reflected genuine surprise. He didn’t respond immediately. He just watched him, not knowing how to react to something that didn’t fit the dynamic they had always shared.

That kiss wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t a misjudgment driven by the heat of the moment. It was something more. And that threw him off completely.

His breath slowed, his body, for the first time in a long time, didn’t react with the intention to regain control of the situation.

—What are you doing, Robin?— he asked, his voice quieter than usual. There were no games. Just a real question, unembellished, without pretense.

Robin seemed to snap out of it suddenly. He pulled away just a few inches, breaking the contact, his expression hardening again.

—I… thought I…— he murmured, pulling away as much as he could from Nemo and diverting his gaze. His own breath was erratic as he hurried to fasten his uniform, trying to regain his composure.

Nemo watched him in silence, his gaze darkened by something Robin couldn’t identify. But instead of taking advantage of the moment, instead of pushing beyond what they had already done, he simply let it go.

He stayed still, letting Robin pull away, though inside, something twisted with discomfort.

—You thought that…— he repeated Robin’s words with a bitter smile, his gaze following him intently. He didn’t add anything more. Didn’t ask, didn’t pressure. But the doubt was there, hanging between them like a ghost that was impossible to ignore.

Silence fell again, heavier than before. Robin ran a hand through his hair, his expression filled with conflict.

This had all been his fault. He had crossed the line. He had given in.

—This has all been a mistake…— he murmured harshly. —None of what happened… it can’t leave here, understood?—

Nemo looked at him without flinching. His eyes no longer held the defiant sparkle from before, but they didn’t show submission either. They just studied him, as if trying to decipher something even Robin didn’t understand.

—What happened, happened.— he finally said, his tone calmer than expected. —I don’t need you to tell me what I can or can’t do, Robin. You know I’m not someone who gets intimidated by empty threats.

His voice didn’t sound challenging, just simply confident.

And in that moment, Robin understood that, even if he tried to erase what had happened, even if he tried to convince both of them that it had been a mistake, nothing he did could change the fact that something had shifted between them. Something that couldn’t be undone.

Nemo moved just slightly, with a calculated slowness, as if every movement could make something inside him break. His breathing was deep, measured, but in his eyes, there was a flash of something else, something he was trying to hide behind his apparent calm.

—But… don’t worry. I’m not one to spill secrets. If you decide to forget this, I will too. In the end, it’s just another thing between us.

His voice sounded different this time, stripped of his usual mocking or provocative tone. It wasn’t a challenge, nor an empty farewell, but a resignation seeping through the cracks of his mask. However, Robin felt how those words pierced him, more than he would have wanted to admit.

—Another thing between us…?— he repeated in a whisper, furrowing his brow with a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something that hurt more than it should.

His jaw clenched, his chest filled with a weight hard to ignore.

—And what am I supposed to do with that?— His voice trembled slightly, barely perceptible, but enough to betray his internal conflict. His eyes burned with contained emotion as he looked at Nemo. —Do you think there’s anything more than just power and control between us? Nemo… look at yourself, this isn’t something that has to do with the two of us. This is your thing.

The venom in his words didn’t go unnoticed, but Robin wasn’t sure if he was trying to hurt Nemo or if he was trying to convince himself he was right.

Nemo slowly lifted his gaze, locking it on Robin with an intensity that took his breath away. His expression was serene, but in his eyes, there was something fierce, something burning.

—Is that what you think?— his voice was barely a whisper, but each word carried the weight of something bigger. A challenge, yes, but also a truth Robin didn’t want to face.

He leaned in slightly, not aggressively, just with that presence that always seemed to envelop him like a storm.

—If that’s what you want to believe, fine. But don’t make me carry something I’m not the only one who dragged here.

Robin felt his chest tighten. His fists clenched by his sides.

—You’re not so innocent in this, and you know it,.— Nemo continued, his voice growing lower, more intimate. —Not everything is power and control, Robin. There are more layers, more motives. But if you want to keep playing the blame game for everything that happens, go ahead. I… I’m used to it.—

The confession hung in the air, hitting a corner of Robin that he himself was trying to ignore. His lips parted, but no words came out.

Finally, after a silence that felt eternal, he shut his eyes tightly, as if he needed to contain the storm inside him.

—You’re right… I’m sorry, I didn’t…— He sighed, his voice barely a thread, full of something he didn’t even completely understand. He still kept his distance, though every cell in his body screamed for something else.

Nemo stared at him, as if analyzing every inch of his expression. Something in his features changed subtly, as if he hadn’t expected this surrender from Robin.

—It’s fine.— he murmured with an unusual calmness. —We’re not saints, Robin. You and I… we’ve always been a disaster waiting to happen.

His words felt like a blow, but there was no anger in them. Just the raw, naked truth of what they were.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was dense, laden with meanings neither dared put into words. Nemo ran his tongue over his lower lip, thoughtful, before throwing the final jab.

—If you want to forget it so much… then do it.

There was no challenge in his voice, no resentment. Just acceptance.

—But don’t pretend it never happened.

Robin swallowed hard. Something inside him broke, but he wasn’t sure what.

—No, it’s not that, Nemo… it’s just that… it’s complicated…

Unaware, he leaned in slightly, his hand finding Nemo’s shoulder in an instinctive gesture.

—It’s fine, let’s leave it at that. No need to keep going in circles. That will just confuse us more.

Nemo let out a soft laugh, not mocking, but with a hint of resignation.

—Confuse us more?— he repeated, savoring the words with a faint ironic expression.

He leaned in slightly toward Robin, with the shadow of a smile on his lips, but his eyes spoke of something deeper.

—Robin… we’ve been playing a game neither of us fully understands for years. The confusion started a long time ago.

He let the phrase settle in the air, giving Robin enough time to process it.

After a few seconds, he sighed and looked away, giving him the space he seemed to need.

—But it’s fine.— he said with unsettling calmness. —If you want to leave it like this, we leave it like this.

He paused, his voice dropping even further, becoming barely a whisper.

—I just hope you’re ready for what comes next.

Because, whether they knew it or not, this wasn’t over. It never was.

—What comes next? What do you mean?— Robin’s voice was a thread of uncertainty, but his hand remained firmly on his shoulder. He didn’t want to pull it away. He couldn’t. As if that contact were an anchor, a last attempt to hold onto something that was inevitably slipping away.

Nemo gave a faint, crooked smile, as if he knew a secret Robin hadn’t discovered yet. He didn’t move, letting the other’s hand remain there, letting the warmth seep through his skin.

—What comes next…— he whispered, and his voice sounded like a warning, like an echo of something that had already happened too many times. He turned his face just slightly, enough for his eyes to lock with Robin’s, making the tension between them unbearable.

—That moment when you convince yourself this meant nothing. That it was just a mistake. And then, when you see me again, when we’re on opposite sides of the city and you trap me again…

He leaned in. Just a little. Enough for the distance between them to shrink to a breath, to a decision neither of them had fully made.

—You’re going to remember what happened here.— His voice dropped to a murmur, filled with venom and certainty. —And you’re going to hate yourself for it.

Nemo tilted his head, savoring the weight of his own words, the impact they had on Robin.

—And I’ll be there to remind you.

Because that was the real game between them, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter how many times they tried to shut doors, pretend they had never crossed lines. They always returned to the same point. They always found themselves tangled in a web of broken promises and glances that said more than they should.

Robin tightened his grip on his shoulder, his fingers digging deeper into his skin as if he wanted to anchor him to reality, as if he could stop him from slipping through his fingers. His gaze, intense under the mask, burned with something he didn’t even know how to name.

It hurt. Because Nemo was right. Because this would never end. Because every time it would get worse. Because this burden would weigh more than anything else.

—That won’t happen.— His voice came out rough, broken by the contained emotion. —I’ll get you into Arkham. You’ll serve your sentences… and you’ll rehabilitate. And when all of that passes… I’ll have been there. And I’ll still be there.

Nemo let out a soft laugh, but not mocking. It was a bitter, worn sound. As if he had heard those words before. As if Red Robin’s promises were as predictable as gravity.

—Rehabilitate me?— He repeated with disbelief, no usual mockery, no typical challenge. His eyes narrowed, observing him, analyzing him with an almost painful intensity. —And what if I don’t want to be saved, Red?

He leaned in a little further, his breath grazing Robin’s mask.

—What if I prefer you keep trapping me, over and over again?

His voice became an intimate whisper, a thread of electricity between them, something only Robin could hear. Something that made the entire world disappear.

—Because if you take this from me… if you take your presence from me… what’s left?

There was no arrogance in his gaze. No mockery. Just something raw and exposed. Something that, if Robin dared to see it, would change everything.

Robin fell silent… surprised, yes, but more than anything, broken.

—Nemo…— He swallowed hard, feeling his own voice tremble. —I can’t play this game all my life… not like this.

And then he did it. He hugged him.

It was instinctive, desperate, something his body did before his mind could analyze it. He wrapped his arms around him, with all his warmth, with everything he was.

“I don’t want you to keep running.” He whispered against his hair, holding him against his chest, enveloping him in something Nemo didn’t remember ever feeling. “And I’m not leaving your side. I’m not lying when I say I’ll be here.”

Nemo froze, his body refusing to accept what was happening. Because this wasn’t part of the game. This was real. Something dangerous.

His breathing became erratic, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have a quick response, a ready mockery, an easy way out.

Robin was serious.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his neck, feeling the vibration of his breath, the quickened heartbeat under his skin. He didn’t try to pull away. He didn’t try to escape.

—…Don’t play with this, Robin.— His voice was a muffled whisper. —If you give me something real… I won’t be able to let it go.

Because Nemo could run from everything. From Arkham, from the police, from his own allies if necessary. But if Robin gave him a reason to stay… Maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn’t run.

Robin buried his face in his hair, memorizing his scent, feeling the softness of his strands between his fingers. He held him tighter, as if fearing he would vanish into the air.

—Please… don’t let go. Stay. Don’t run anymore. Not from me, not from yourself.

His thumb brushed his cheek with a tenderness impossible to ignore.

Nemo fell silent, trapped in that moment, in those words that shackled him in a way no shackle had ever done before.

It wasn’t Robin’s hold that kept him there. It wasn’t the cuffs, nor the rubble.

It was the way he spoke to him.

It was the way he touched him.

It was the way he looked at him, as if there was still something in him worth saving.

—…I don’t know how to do that.— His confession was barely a whisper. It wasn’t an excuse. It wasn’t manipulation.

It was the purest truth he had to give.

Robin pulled back just enough to look at him closely.

—You don’t have to do it alone.— His words were a promise, one he had been trying to keep for too long. —We’ll do it together.

Nemo looked at him, his expression a storm of emotions.

He had always known Robin was stubborn. But he never thought he’d go this far. He never thought someone like him would make a promise like that.

—You’re an idiot.— He whispered. There was no mockery in his voice, just exhaustion. And a small, tiny part of him that wanted to believe.

Robin smiled softly. —Please… give up.— His voice was low, almost pleading. —Let me help you.—

Nemo closed his eyes, his forehead still against Robin’s. He felt his warmth, his steady heartbeat, his unwavering conviction.

He tightened his hold, gripping the other man’s uniform as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

He took a deep breath.

And finally, he surrendered.

#oc x tim drake #tim drake x oc #nemo arkham #tim drake robin #tim drake wayne #tim drake #dc ocs #dc oc rp #oc art #robin #dc robin #robin tim drake #fanfic #dc fanfic #transmasc #transgender #trans pride

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th3-c0ll3ct3r · 9 days ago

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WAKE UP BITCHES ISKALL DROPPED AND IMMA EVALUATE IT-

Especially considering I was never a fan of him in the first place I will have no bias in this horse race

Video:

youtube

The entire video genuinely sounds like a more constructive Dream allegations video minus the detective outfit and 2hrs of rambling and a serious lack of evidence due to privacy reasons which kind of, so lightly sound like an excuse

He claims that when he was alerted to these allegations, he was given a 1hr and 30 minutes deadline to produce proof to the Hermits he didn't do anything

He then contact the police and a lawyer

Girl we are going to pause right here because stunning that you contacted the police and a lawyer but if you didn't do the things that you're alleged or doing then you would have proof that you didn't do those things like the whole situation could it take in 20 minutes

If he didn't do even one of the things he was accused of it would have taken less than the hour and a half he was given to screen share his screen with multiple Hermits and just start scrolling through Discord

Then he goes on to say that he wasn't given enough time etc... And that they'd rushed him.

There have been MULTIPLE sources stating they tried for MONTHS to get into contact with the Hermits.

But IT IS odd that when he was "notified" of his wrongdoings, he first went to the police and a lawyer, DESPITE a hermit telling you first. If everyone knows then it's not a matter of privacy anymore.

Like personally if that was me, I'd have jumped into Discord no questions asked, shown the proof THEN contacted a lawyer for defamation or other relating charges

It's very unusual for someone to go the legal route in the situation not because it's never been done before it's because it's a waste of money and time. They will not gaf. Most cases in the similar situations come out with inconclusive responses and the person does not come out with a response themselves as their is seemingly enough evidence to smear their name and they would not like to proceed if there's that much evidence.

And it's VERY clear he's going the "innocent till proven guilty" route. Which is fair enough.

But, and I cannot stress this enough, HE'S NOT BEING ACCUSED OF TEXTING MINORS

He's being accused of having inappropriate relationship with multiple members of his audience/community and moderators, and using his Discord server as the catalyst for it all.

Which is especially alarming as some have said he's a moderator for them, which IN SOME PLACES is illegal to have a boss/employee relationship.

But it genuinely sounds like he's missing the point, as a content creator you have to hold yourself to higher responsibilities, accountability and credibility then the rest of your community. And even if it's not illegal, it's EXTREMELY INAPPROPRIATE for a content creator to have any form of relations with a fan, WITHOUT it being for certain types of videos (like challenges or servers) or for commissions/work

So unless they were gaining genuine service or having particular videos, having that sort of PM relationships with your fans is inappropriate, especially if your working with them or not. It's not appropriate at all.

He then blames it on cancel culture. WHICH GIRL-

I've seen alot of things pumped out of Hermitcraft fans but "cancel culture" IS NOT ONE OF THEM

Blaming it on cancel culture is the biggest excuse, genuinely.

He acts like it was public execution, even through its been CONFIRMED from MULTIPLE SOURCE that people tried for months to get into contact with the Hermits, so the END OF THE INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONS WITH MEMBERS OF YOUR COMMUNITY SHOULD HAVE BEEN WARNING NUMBER 1-

Like imagine all the people you allegedly had relations with suddenly all wanted to cut contact, did you think they would just disappear?

Cancel Culture, is when you're cut from your career for doing something OBJECTIVELY stupid, as it becomes a growing trend. It's unserious and often a social media trend.

Iskall's situation was not apart of cancel culture because it's genuine. And he knows it's genuinely enough to take legal action, meaning that in some capacity he did do at least 20% of what he's been accused of, to have grounds for a cases

So he's done SOMETHING it's just not what he thinks it is/isn't like what's allegedly

Then he goes on to talk about a developer he defended after they scammed him and we're generally not nice.

I have yet to see this developer anywhere and to my knowledge they have not pushed any allegations onto him.

He instead brings up this developer, because he defended them when they did something that was seemingly objectively wrong and it's meant to be a display of his good character

Personally I would have not used that as an example. Using an example of you defending someone when you in the same breath claimed that they had wrong with you is putting the notion in your fans and audiences heads that even "if I do something wrong you should defend me because it was only a silly little mistake and it's the right thing to do"

And it was necessary. Completely unnecessary. He wants to be a display of a good character yet also once privacy so that's why he shares a personal story of him defending someone who wronged him so show that he's a good person who gives second chances? But then implies in the video that he had to give that person more than one chance?

And I think Goodtimeswithscar said it better then me. GASLIGHTING he's hardcore gaslighting.

It is similar to what Mr Beast, did with his allegations. Actually it's almost a copy.

Instead of completely addressing it he only addresses what he wants to in the face of privacy. He then brings up all the good things he's done to make him seem more trustworthy and like a better person even. And then he pays someone to investigate himself to find himself not guilty.

Iskall it's literally doing the same thing. He only addresses what he wants to because of privacy even though he knew about the situation before he got a lawyer, he uses the worst example possible to show that he's a trustworthy person, and then he pays for a lawyer himself to prove that he is not guilty.

Having the police and lawyers is meant to make it seem more 'fair'. But as we all know the police will only do so much before a lawyer has to step in. And if you're paying for the lawyer yourself obviously the lawyer is going to have bias because they want to do a good job because you are paying them to do a good job.

It's the most hardcore gaslighting I've ever seen.

And worst of all he might actually get away with it, because like Mr Beast he has a younger audience who will not understand how much he's trying to Gaslight them.

So to conclude, he's doing a Dream / Mr Beast remix on a smaller scale because money. And he's getting lawyer involved and unless they're suing for defamation, then there's nothing to sue for because no one is accusing him of pedophilia they are accusing him of having inappropriate relationships with his audience which is a big no-no for content creators..

Now for Stressmonster

Girl dug herself either a hole or a grave and now has to lie in it.

They tried to protect her dignity and integrity by not stating the reason why she left but it's now clear to many why she also left.

And yet again I would like to make it very clear like no one is accusing him of actually committing a crime (UNLESS HE LIVES IN AN AREA THAT MAKES IT ILLEGAL FOR BOSS AND EMPLOYEES/COWORKERS TO HAVE A RELATIONSHIP) he's being accused of having inappropriate relationships with members of his community and moderators, which is not a very good thing if you're a content creator

Its not a jailable offence unless *see point above*, and to be like "I'm standing with you 100% of the way!", is more telling about your priorities than 'what is right'

They act as if hermitcraft is a cult, that kicks members out for not conforming.

But I am entirely on the side of HermitCraft in the fact that I would indeed, kick Iskall out/get him to resign, if he'd had inappropriate relations with mods and fans REGARDLESS OF IF THEY WERE ADULTS

Because the main audience for Hermitcraft ARE CHILDREN. KIDS. NON-ADULTS

AND HE'S ENDANGERING THEM AS WELL AS THERE COMMUNITY EVEN IF IT'S NOT MINORS HE'S MESSAGING

LIKE GROWING UP IN A COMMUNITY WHERE IF YOU EVENTUALLY REACH AN ACCEPTABLE AGE YOU GET TO HAVE A PRIVATE RELATIONSHIP WITH THE CONTENT CREATOR YOU'VE BEEN IDOLISING FOR YOUR CHILDHOOD ARE YOU INSANE?

Overall he's digging himself a grave and handing out shovel.

And also. To be sosososososo clear.

NEVER. SEND. DEATH. THREATS. TO. ANYONE.

#Me when I do something that goes against the content creators moral and ethical code then don't say anything bc “privacy” +#+ but then actually decide to say the things that only make me look good/good character #+then gaslight everyone and get the law involved even though no one's accusing you of committing a genuine crime and is instead accusing you #+ but instead everyone is accusing you of being involved in inappropriate relations remembers of your community and moderators #+ to which you didn't publicly or privately defend yourself on and instead went right to a lawyer because +#+ you knew but there was enough evidence to make it seem like you did actually do those things but you wont say rhat #+so instead you spend 11 minutes building up character #Not defending yourself due to privacy dragging your friends down with you and the exaggerating things that are false #mcyt #hermitcraft iskall #iskall85 #iskall situation #stressmonster101 #Goodtimeswithscar #Mention #He's so real #But tbh Iskall situation is just smaller scale dream/Mr Beast situation AND IF YOU CAN SEE THE PATTERNS FOR FUCKERIES YOUD KNOW #hermitblr #discourse #Youtube

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tonycries · 8 months ago

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Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam”, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too.

The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.

Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room.

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”

God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this.

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle.

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already.

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked.

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them.

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious.

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.

A weighty beat passes. One. Two.

He wins.

And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this?

“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”

What?

The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face.

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity.

“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better.

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word.

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually.

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth.

“Out.”

It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.

Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now.

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?”

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him.

Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but.

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw.

“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar.

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal.

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away.

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.”

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan.

“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”

Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his.

So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this.

“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth.

At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended.

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast.

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers.

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants.

You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth.

And Gojo keeps going.

Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily.

“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”

“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”

“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good.

And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?”

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs.

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit.

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous.

All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.

Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together.

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute.

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone.

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife.

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch.

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly.

Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”

“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance.

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you.

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there.

“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least.

Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.”

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.”

Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear.

It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side.

“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?”

You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him.

“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find-

“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”

That.

So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”

Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted.

“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”

You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.

Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles.

“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”

And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are.

“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”

Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices.

And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-

“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”

So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper.

Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you.

But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.

Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes.

And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his.

“Clean that room up.”

Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie.

But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.

A/N. On my period I’m gonna cry.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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velvetydream · 1 year ago

Text

꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor x reader #x you #x reader #imagine #imagines #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine

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nochepsicodelica · 6 months ago

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Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

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bunny-1111 · 4 months ago

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Whoopsie - Theo Nott x clumsy!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Fluff + slight angst

Description: You can't help your clumsiness, but when you land with a bruise on your face, you're reminded that your boyfriend Theo really hates to see you hurt.

...

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors of the Slytherin dungeons, each step clumsy and uneven. You weren’t exactly the most graceful of creatures, but today had reached new heights of disaster. It was one of those days when the universe seemed to be playing tricks on you—making every doorframe, stair step, and corridor seem like an obstacle course designed specifically for you to fail.

And fail, you did.

It had started innocently enough. You had forgotten your Charms textbook in the dormitory, and in your haste to retrieve it before your next class. The last thing you needed was detention from McGonagall for being late or forgetting your book, and you were sprinting down the corridor. Too fast, too distracted, and—

BAM.

Your face met the hard, unyielding brass of the doorknob. Pain radiated through your skull, and you stumbled back, clutching your nose. "Ow, ow, ow," you hissed under your breath, blinking back the sudden tears that sprang to your eyes.

By the time you had made it to the mirror in the girls’ bathroom, a glorious bruise was already blossoming across your cheekbone and the area around your eye, swelling quickly and turning an alarming shade of purple. You groaned. Great. How were you going to explain this to anyone? Even worse, how the hell are you going to explain this to Theo?

You decided to skip class altogether and carefully make your way to Madam Pomfrey.

You managed to slip into the common room unnoticed at first, pulling your hood up in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of your clumsiness. But, of course, it didn’t take long for someone to notice. It was Theo, he always noticed everything about you, no matter how much you tried to downplay it.

“Baby, why weren’t you in class, Enzo ended up taking the seat I saved for you and Merlin he chewed my ear off about Quidditch being fixed last Saturday,” he rambled on.

Don’t reply, don’t look up, you thought to yourself. It was impossible; this was happening right now.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, voice low and alarmed as he crossed the room in quick strides, his hand gently lifting your chin. You felt the warmth of his fingertips against your skin, but his expression was anything but warm. His brow furrowed in concern, soft brown eyes locking on the bruise that marred your face.

"I’m fine!" you blurted, though the words came out far too high-pitched to be convincing. You tried to pull away, but Theo wasn’t having it. His grip on your chin tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing against the edge of the bruise with a gentleness that made your chest tighten.

“Who hurt you?” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but the intensity in his tone made your stomach flip. His eyes searched yours, dark and stormy. Theo wasn’t the type to raise his voice in anger. No, his was the kind of quiet fury that built up slowly, seeping into the air like a cold, creeping fog.

"I did," you confessed, trying to laugh it off, but the tension in the room was suffocating. You could feel his anger brewing, and you knew what was coming next.

“I’m fucking serious, don’t lie to me!” Theo snapped, taking a step back as if putting some distance between the two of you would help him calm down. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he began pacing, his jaw tight. “There’s no way you did that to yourself.”

“I did!” you repeated, trying to sound more convincing this time. Rubbing your hand quickly against your bruise. Not a good idea, as you instinctively winced at the touch. “I ran into a door. A doorknob, to be exact. It’s not that serious, Theo,” you try convincing.

Theo froze mid-step, staring at you like you had just said something utterly ridiculous. Which, to be fair, you probably had.

“A doorknob?” he repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing as if he was waiting for you to take it back, like it was some kind of joke. But when you just nodded, Theo let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re telling me… you smashed your face into a doorknob?”

“Yes,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment. God, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“It's embarrassing already, alright? Leave me alone,” you huff.

Theo stared at you for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to believe you. Eventually, he sighed and dragged a hand down his face, turning away abruptly. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath before storming off, leaving you standing there with a gnawing pit in your stomach.

Theo didn’t go far. He was in the common room, pacing like a caged animal, still visibly agitated. His eyes flickered over the other Slytherins lounging nearby, most of whom had noticed his outburst but said nothing. That didn’t last long.

“Oi, what’s got you in a twist, Nott?” Blaise called from the couch, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. Beside him, Draco looked equally intrigued, lounging back with his arms crossed.

Theo glared at them but didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to look at you again, his jaw still set in that hard, unyielding way. The others followed his gaze, and it wasn’t long before the topic of conversation turned toward your rapidly bruising face.

“Wha- what the hell happened to her eye?” Blaise was the first to ask, looking genuinely confused as he gestured toward you.

“She said she ran into a door,” Theo growled, clearly still not convinced.

Draco, who had been staring at you with a mixture of concern and amusement, furrowed his brows. “Wait, what happened to who’s ey-?”

Before he could finish his question, Mattheo, who had just entered the common room, cut in with a dramatic, “Holy shit! What happened to your eye?” His tone was a mix of shock and humour, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of your injury.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you now. Heat rushed to your face as you tried to explain yourself once again. “I fell,” you say quickly, raising your hands in a placating gesture, as if that would make everyone drop it and move on.

But of course, they didn’t.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You fell? Into what, a troll?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I ran into a doorknob, okay? I wasn’t paying attention, and it just… happened.”

Blaise let out a low whistle, his smirk widening. “You really need to work on your coordination, love.”

You rolled your eyes, though the action hurt more than you expected, causing you to wince. Theo, noticing the movement, shot Blaise a glare that could have frozen over the entire Black Lake. “It’s not funny, Zabini.”

“Hey, I’m just saying…” Blaise shrugged, holding up his hands in mock defence. “You know, we could get you a helmet or something, just to be safe.”

"We should wrap you in bubble wrap", Pansy joins in laughing

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m fine, really.”

But the conversation was far from over. Despite your protests, the teasing continued—though most of it was good-natured. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Theo’s eyes on you, watching every movement, every wince. He hadn’t said much since his initial outburst, but you could feel his worry like a tangible weight in the air.

Eventually, the others got bored of the topic, and the common room returned to its usual low buzz of chatter. You took a deep breath, thankful for the reprieve, but when you glanced toward Theo, you saw that he was still tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he watched you.

“I’m going for a smoke,” he stated as he stormed out of the common room. Well, we’ve done it, stressed him to the point of smoking. You thought he’ll be back soon, sinking deeper into the couch.

Later that night, when everyone had dispersed to their dorms, Theo found you sitting by the fire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a poker. He sat down beside you without a word, the warmth of his presence instantly comforting. For a while, neither of you spoke, the crackling of the fire filling the silence between you.

Finally, Theo broke the quiet, his voice low and careful. “You really need to be more careful.”

You looked at him, your heart giving a small, traitorous flutter at the concern etched into his features. “I know.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

There was something in his voice that made your chest tighten. You smiled softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “It’s not that serious, Theo. It was just a stupid accident.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the fire. Then, after what felt like forever, he turned to look at you, his expression softening. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time.”

You chuckled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I promise.”

Theo wrapped an arm around you, pulling you

closer. “Good. Because I don’t think I could handle seeing you like that again, seriously.”

You gently kiss him, as you make your way towards his dorm, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, everything seeming good again.

That is until you tumble over your own feet, almost meeting the floor, but this time, Theo was there, tightening his grip on you, catching you before disaster could strike for the second time today.

You laugh as he stares at you, eyes widening. He cannot believe you actually fall over your own feet. He softens with a deep sigh.

“What am I going to do with you, my clumsy girl?” he laughs himself, kissing your head.

Author note: um like 4 theo fics posted in the last 24 hours.... getting that grind LMFAO

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omgeto · 1 year ago

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☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop.

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours.

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised. ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer.

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art.

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know.

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you.

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force.

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere.

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.”

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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obsessivevoidkitten · 3 months ago

Text

Hated. Fucked. Loved.

Kinktober Day 16: Hate-Fucked

Male Rival Yandere x Male Reader CW: PAINFUL noncon, bloody non-con, oral sex, face-fucking, cum swallowing, kidnapping, non-sexual bondage, piss, reader pissed on in shower, OC hates reader then turns yandere, sadism, sadistic yandere, protective yandere, mind-broken reader, briefly feminized reader, forced crossdressing, brief display of homophobia/f-slur, psychological damage, violence, minor character death, WHUMP, angst but eventual comfort, weapons-grade Stockholm Syndrome, Dead Dove: DO NOT EAT Word Count: 4.1k (Oh lordy, this one is brutal. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Not betaread so please excuse any errors. The longest fic of kinktober and the finale. I wish you all a Scary Hexmas and hope this Hexmas time meal is filling. Don't forget to comment <3)

Will. Fucking. Hated. You.

He had ever since he first met you in grade school. It seemed that no matter what he did, you always had to show him up. The only area he seemed to do better than you was in popularity. But that just didn't fulfill him enough.

Will wanted real acknowledgment that he was better than you could ever be. He wanted it reflected in his grades and in the opinions of the teachers. He wanted absolutely everyone to see he was better than you.

He wanted you to see it, too.

But despite all of his unmitigated vitriol towards you, you always ignored it and treated him with kindness. You figured maybe he had a bad home life or some other difficulty that made him take it out on you. His behavior still made you cry sometimes... but you really wanted to make everyone like you. You were a people pleaser, and you wanted him to be happy.

But it infuriated him, stoked the embers of his hatred for you into a full-on inferno every single time you did it. To him, it was clear evidence that you thought you were better than him. That you were above him. Morally superior.

As if poor trash like you could be better than him.

He knew all your kind behavior was a farce to make him look bad. To taunt him.

One time, when Will had been out of school with a broken leg, you had gotten the entire class to join you in sending him get well cards. You had even made homemade cupcakes. He was sure you were laughing at him!!! Goading him. And convincing everyone you were so great at the same time. Fucking piece of shit.

No matter what you did in life Will couldn't stop following your path until he proved he was the better man. He was obsessed.

When you went to a small cheap college, he dutifully followed you to it. His family was immensely wealthy. He could have gone to a much more prestigious university, he could have just gotten a job in his father's company, but he didn't want to use his money or connections to prove he was better than lowly scum like you. He wanted you to see he was better in every metric.

And he had to be there to see your face when you were finally defeated.

He even went into your field so he could do the same courses. So he could prove that you were a piece of shit to be discarded in comparison to him.

Since you were going to school to be a nurse for the elderly, you saw Will's obsessive competition not as a crazy need to prove you to be inferior to him but instead as absolute proof that he was secretly a wonderful person. For how could someone so devoted to the care of the old possibly be bad? Especially when nurses were paid relatively little and he had come from such a wealthy background! It wasn’t exactly a glamorous job.

So you still treated him with kindness. It was okay that he didn't like you. Now that you knew he was actually sweet below that prickly exterior, you could laugh off all his cruel behavior towards you much more easily.

This was unacceptable to him.

When you both graduated, he even went to work at the same nursing home as you. This gave you the impression that maybe he was a bit crazy over you. But not in the way that he actually was. You thought he had a crush on you. You thought all his meanness towards you was probably internalized homophobia with his following you through life proof of him really liking you.

You made the conscious effort to make Will happier and be even nicer to him now that you were sure you knew the truth.

That isn’t how he saw you doubling down on kindness.

Taunting him. Taunting him. Taunting him. That's all you ever did. Flaunting it for years. Pretending to be unaffected by him. As if he was an insignificant speck of dust that did nothing to you. That's how he interpreted your behavior. He hated you so much.

The final straw was when you threw Will a small surprise birthday party in the break room at work. Of course, he had to pretend to love it. Eat your overly sweet homemade cake.

To him, it was the ultimate humiliation. He had to pretend to like it. To thank you for the cake and the gift you gave him. A gift card to his favorite store.

You were just so smug. Thought you had pulled a great victory over him, he was sure. It wasn't like he could say anything. If he did, he would sound crazy. No one would believe him if he told them that you threw him the party just to anger and embarrass him.

Will snapped. He didn't show it, though. He acted calm for days as he slowly readied his revenge. He readied his basement and got all the required supplies for his self-appointed task. His reason for being. To break you and get revenge for the countless times you had made a fool of him.

For days after the party, Will had acted a lot calmer and less aggressive towards you. No more mean or sarcastic comments at your expense. You thought that maybe he was finally getting to a point where he was accepting his feelings.

But you couldn't have been more wrong. Will didn’t have to retaliate to perceived slights. You were beneath him, and he was finally going to prove it to you in every sense of the word.

You had stayed late at the hospital. Will waited for you to leave and followed you out into the parking lot. You had walked to work since the weather had been so pleasant, and since it was such a short distance from your house, you had to pass through the nearly vacant parking lot to go home.

As you passed his car, Will reached out from the shadows and grabbed you. Before you could scream, he held a cloth over your mouth with a strong hand. You struggled profusely until the chloroform overwhelmed you, and your body went completely limp. Will briefly noted that you looked kind of peaceful and cute before stuffing such gross thoughts aside. He quickly tied you up and hogtied you before stuffing you into his trunk and driving off. The journal you kept in your pocket fell out in the trunk.

His house was several miles outside of town. It was a long drive, long enough for you to regain consciousness, but that’s what your binds were for.

You were understandably terrified and disoriented. You had not even seen who had grabbed you, and they hadn’t spoken either, so you had no idea who had nabbed you or what they wanted.

When the car finally stopped, you heard your attacker snicker after opening the trunk. You redoubled your efforts to break free of your binds. But the rope that held you was too sturdy for that. Your abductor picked you up with some effort and quickly carried you into a building. You could only tell because the air changed and the sound of the door closing behind you.

You began screaming and shrieking into your gag, but succeeded only in hurting your own throat. Even if the screams had not been muffled by the cloth gagging your mouth, there were no other houses within earshot of you. And this wasn’t an area with any traffic either. Will had thought this all out.

You heard the rattling of chains and felt the cold touch of a metal collar around your neck. He rummaged through your pockets to take your phone, then your clothing was peeled away, and the binds around your arms replaced with handcuffs restraining your arms painfully behind you. The gag muffling your screams was removed, and you began sobbing pleas for your freedom.

The last thing taken from you was the blindfold. You stared up in confusion, not believing for a moment who you saw. Will, looking down at you with insane erratic green eyes and a smile that left a chill on your very soul. His medium length brown hair was unkempt, adding to the terrifying visage before you.

“Wha..? Will… Plea-!!”

You were interrupted by a sharp slap to the face that made your eyes water.

“Shut the fuck up! I am the one talking here. You don’t get to manipulate me with your smug words… I have been waiting so long to put you in your place. I think we should commemorate the moment!”

The unhinged man rummaged in a drawer until he pulled out a camera and took a few pictures of your sorry state. He put the camera away and produced a sharp knife from his pocket which he then held up to your oh so delicate throat. You sobbed more fervently.

“Aw, you’re crying already? We haven’t even gotten to the fun yet! We need to pace ourselves.”

His breathing was heavy. Like he was infusing his sadistic desires into the air with each breath he pulled into his lungs.

“Let’s make one thing clear from the start, if you try to escape or fight back, I will slit your throat. Do you understand?”

You nodded shakily. You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a fight. Even if he didn’t have the knife, he was still a very fit man.

“I am just SO excited… What should we do first… What will show I am better than you?”

As he sat down on the edge of a large bed a few feet from you and mumbled to himself you finally had a chance to catch your breath and try to calm the slightest bit down while you took in your foreign surroundings. You were in a neat, sparsely furnished room that appeared to be a basement. You were chained by the neck to a pole that was behind you. Only a scratchy blanket separated your bare skin from the cold concrete below. The bed he was on looked out of place, as if it had recently been moved down here, but it was clearly not for you.

“I know!”

Will walked up to you and pulled out his erect cock, evidently excited by having you under his control. He pressed the head of the thick appendage against your lips while smiling maniacally down at you in the same way that he had before, his meaning clear.

“Well hurry and get started then. And if you bite I think you know what will happen.”

Your jaw ached as you sucked him clumsily. It was rather large and you were rather inexperienced. It didn’t help that your hands were unavailable to help you grip the shaft to speed up the process. As he got closer and closer to orgasm he became more forceful. First humping into your mouth steadily and eventually gripping each side of your head hard and violently fucking your face until you thought you were going to pass out.

“You better not spill any!”

Finally he slammed down your throat, pressing your nose into his curly pubes, and came hard. You gagged but managed to swallow it all as he pulled out.

“Fuck. Maybe you were made to suck my cock. That was the best nut I think I have ever had. Don’t forget to clean it.”

After gasping for a moment you licked his cock clean of cum and saliva and he put it back in his pants. You had fantasized about doing things with him, but never like this.

You sobbed and asked why he was doing this, and he immediately put a stop to it by punching you in the gut, leaving you reeling.

“I still don’t want to hear your bitching.”

“You should know why. This is what you get for always looking down on me and having everyone convinced that you’re so great!”

He got in bed before continuing.

“You always thought you could compete with me, make people think you were better, outdoing me. But now you know you’re beneath me. I don’t know about you but I am tired from all the excitement, I need rest.”

Sleep did not come easily for you as painfully restrained as you still were, but eventually, you silently sobbed yourself into a state of unconsciousness. It was a fitful rest, one plagued by nightmares.

You awoke to the sight of Will leering down at you.

"Hey, sleeping beauty! I’m off this weekend, so we will have the next couple of days all to ourselves. I wanted more time, but I couldn’t take vacation right as you went missing. So we'll just have to make the best of it.”

Your lip quivered in fear of the horrors Will had in store for you. It was a warranted response. He started the day by having you gag on his morning wood and licking his nuts and dick clean of the cum that dribbled down them when he came.

You got smacked for spilling a drop, but it wasn’t as brutal as your treatment the night before.

Then he decided that you needed a shower so he hosed you down with cold water in the basement’s bathroom, the chilling concrete room had a drain in the floor making it a very convenient location for Will to torment you in as he did not need to worry about flooding. The concrete exasperated the chill. While the water was still running he took a moment to further degrade you by whipping out his half-hard cock and taking his morning piss all over you.

After that he noticed you sobbing silently again, your naked form shivering with anxiety, fear, and of course the bitter cold.

“Awe, are you crying like a little girly? Maybe you should be dressed like one then…”

A light bulb seemed to go off in your abuser’s mind.

“Hey, give me a minute!”

He tied you back up painfully before leaving abruptly. He came back with a maid outfit from a costume store down the street, it was October so it was open for Halloween.

"You look like such a slut in that, like the filthy whore you are."

You continued looking away in shame and humiliation.

"I bet you have a cunt like a girl's too. Bet you want to get railed by a real man."

"Stop it Will! A-anything but that! Please... I'm sorry!!"

That only pissed him off.

"You're not making the demands here slut!" He smacked you hard across the face, causing you to yelp.

"And you're not sorry yet... but you will be..."

He dragged you over and tossed you on the bed. You were shaking, crying into the pillowless mattress. You wanted to run but were terrified of what he would do. He was much stronger than you.

You heard the sound of him undoing his belt and pulling down his pants.

He spit on his cock and rubbed it to full length. Just enough lube so he could enter you. Not enough to do anything to bring you comfort.

The mattress sank with his additional weight as he got on. He positioned you with your ass up and moved the skirt of the maid outfit to show off your ass. You sobbed more. What had you done to deserve this? Had you hurt him somehow? Had he mistaken something someone else did for your own actions?

Will gripped your hips, nails biting into your flesh. He pulled you back hard and thrust forward at the same time. It felt like fire. His cock split your ass brutally and you screamed as loudly as you could. Will smirked. Music to his ears.

"Don't pretend that you don't want it. This is what fags like you are made for!"

A smack echoed as he slapped your ass but you didn't even register it beneath the all consuming pain of him violating you in such a brutal manner.

Will kept slamming into you over and over. Pulling out almost fully each time before thrusting back in as hard as he could. When he saw blood on his cock it only encouraged him. It wasn't like Will was into blood or anything. He wasn't really a sadist at all under normal circumstances, but he certainly was when it came to you. He was finally putting the trash that mocked and looked down on him in his place. The blood, tears, and choked sobs of pain were just evidence of that.

It felt like the violation was going on for an eternity. The burning pain was unrelenting as he mocked and teased you the whole time. You didn't even know he was talking anymore, and due to straining your voice, you could no longer scream. Will finally drove into you deeply and came hard. He stayed in a moment and let his cock twitch and pulse cum into you. He had totally owned you.

But when his anger ebbed away and he pulled out he saw the blood stained cum flow out of your abused hole. He saw your shaking crying form gripping the sheets tightly. He heard your ragged, uneasy breaths. He knew you were having a panic attack.

What was wrong? This was what he had wanted, wasn't it? To break you. But now that he had, he could only stare in horror at what he had done to you. Even if you had snubbed your nose at him and thought yourself superior, this wasn't a proportional response. Nothing could justify... this...

Will cleaned himself off haphazardly and pulled his pants back up. Then he removed the clothing from your body and picked you up.

He had to make things better.

You weren't aware of your surroundings. You had mostly withdrawn into your own mind. You kept mumbling that you were sorry over and over into his chest.

"No, no, no. Shhh. Don't be. I'm sorry. I'm the bad one... Shit, I'm so sorry..."

His words went past your ears, and you continued your chant-like apology over and over and over. Your brain just couldn't accept that someone could hate you so much without you having done something to deserve it.

Tears threatened to roll down his face, but he wouldn't let them. It was his fault. He wasn't the victim here.

Why had he done this? Because of some childish rivalry that may have only been in his head? No, he couldn't accept that it was in his head. Not yet. He couldn't just let go of the years of animosity towards you he had been harboring. But... still... he obviously took things way too far...

Will drew a bath and placed you in it gently. A stark contrast to how he had treated you up until this point. He washed you carefully, meticulously cleaning the wounds he had inflicted to prevent infection.

You slumped against the tub, eyes staring at nothing, as he washed you of all the filth and blood he had marred you with.

The rest of the weekend passed, and you had scarcely improved. You still muttered apologies and could manage to use the restroom on your own, but he had to feed you himself.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He hadn't actually planned on what to do when he was done brutalizing you. He couldn't just let you leave. There was no way he was going to prison. If he did, you'd be dumped in some psych ward and forgotten about.

He no longer needed the pictures he had taken to blackmail you as you were practically catatonic anyway. You couldn't care for yourself in this state at all.

Your abductor refused to leave you there while he returned to work, and without you 6 had no reason to go back anyway. He had been worried that it would be suspicious if the two of you disappeared on the same day, but he had your phone and just had to make up a scenario that would keep people away. Neither of you were particularly close to anyone, so it wouldn't be difficult.

The excuse he gave was that the two of you were going to move back to your hometown and get high paying jobs working for your father. He figured he could take care of you himself for a week or two while he got things worked out with his dad. Then he could take you with him to a new house there and hire a discrete caretaker to watch you while he was at work.

During the time before the move Will would sometimes get fed up with you and have to catch himself before he screamed or accused you of faking to guilt trip him.

As the week went on, he even caught himself thinking it was a bit cute when you were sleeping while he held you. He had to remind himself constantly that even though he went way too far, you were still in the wrong somewhat for how you had acted.

And then, while he was cleaning his trunk to pack your belongings he had retrieved from your place, he found your journal in his trunk and its contents finally got through to him. It detailed your crush on him and how you thought he must have one on you because of how he behaved towards you. It went on about your thoughts and feelings about your coworkers and all your interactions with them, including all the kind things you went out of your way to do to make them all happy.

It was obvious to him now that you were a real-life cinnamon roll. Part of the reason people liked you was because they could exploit your kindness, and they clearly had. And he had done far worse than that.

There was only one thing he could possibly do to even begin to make things right. He wasn't into men like you were, but he would be your boyfriend and eventual husband.

He would also make you his assistant at his new job so he could watch over you personally. It wasn't like he had to devote much time to work. He had an upper management position and could delegate most tasks. You had begun to do more basic things for yourself when directed so you could eat and sit and look busy so no one would suspect anything.

Eventually, after months of delicate, tender care, you were able to speak more and think properly again. Though you were still a nervous mess occasionally plagued by vivid nightmares that replayed what you had experienced. You never dared trying to escape. The lessons of obedience you had learned your first days with Will had been ingrained deeply within your psyche. And with your newfound anxiety, you couldn't really take care of yourself completely alone. You were dependent on him for employment.

Well, at least your boyfriend treated you kindly by that point. As if you were a porcelain doll that would crumble to dust under the slightest mean gaze.

In fact, rude employees had been fired for even shooting you a glare. And when there was a jealous bitch that had mean words to say about his darling assistant and lover? Some hired goons provided her with a broken nose one dark night.

When Will announced his engagement to you, his father objected because of your lower status and humble origins. He screamed at you directly accusing you of being a gold digging whore unworthy of his son. You curled up in the corner of the room, crying and trembling. Soon after that his father came down with a terrible case of sudden onset poisoned to fucking death with an untraceable toxin that gave him a stroke, a common enough cause of death for a man of his age.

Will wouldn't let anything threaten or hurt you. And if that meant his dad had to die, then so be it. You were his responsibility. But beyond that, what had started with him taking accountability for his actions towards you had slowly evolved into genuine love and care for you.

It took a long time, but eventually, your feelings towards him evolved into love, too. You would always be a little broken, a little fearful of him, but he was the only person you really had, he had isolated you thoroughly and was constantly in your presence, so it was inevitable that you'd start to see him in a better light.

#yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #male reader #male yandere x male reader #My OCs #My OC Will #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #yandere kinktober #yandere husband #hexmas #Merry Hexmas #Hexmas 2024 #Scary Hexmas

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mulloey · 10 days ago

Text

the shop

your car has broken down for the nth time, but yunho’s there to save the day. just your luck you don’t have enough money to pay him.

mechanic!yunho x fem!reader

words: 2.7k

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warnings: dom!yunho, sub!reader, paying with your body trope, you already wanted to fuck him though, probably inaccurate pricing for car repair services cus i can’t drive tbh, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, slapping, creampie etc. not proofread

—

You’re dizzy and delirious, putty in his hands as he holds you firmly in place, right where he wants you.

“Y-Yunho!” You squeal. You writhe in his grip a little but it’s far too strong to resist.

He’s got you bent over the hood of the car—your car—while he pounds into you like a desperate, starving man. His overalls are hanging around his waist, just low enough for him to pull his cock out; his white t-shirt is soaked in sweat and the oil-covered gloves on his hands rub painfully against the skin of your hips.

“F-fuck,” he grunts. Your hips collide painfully with the hood every time he thrusts into you and your ass bounces and reddens each time your bodies collide. “What a fucking cock whore. You do this every time you can’t pay the bill? Huh?”

“N-no,” you sob. “Just you, Yunho. Just… hngh… just you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he snarls. His hand comes down on your ass again, raw and painful over the marks he left earlier and you find yourself looking back on everything that lead you here—lead you to being bent over your broken down car while the hottest man you’ve ever fucking seen is slamming his dick into you like his life depends on it.

You suppose the first part—ending up at the auto shop—was inevitable. The car was fucked when you bought it, honestly, but there weren’t many other options for a broke college student. You lived in another district where rent is cheaper, so needed a car to get to class. Didn’t matter how good it was, it just needed to run.

Trust your luck that that seemed to be the only thing it wouldn’t do.

For a period you managed to get by fixing it yourself; Youtube tutorials and favours from friends were enough to deal with all the minor issues that came up, but as minor issues tend to do, they quickly piled up on top of each other until, the morning your presentation was due, you put the keys in the ignition, started the car and—nothing. It did nothing. You were the unluckiest person in the fucking world.

You’d called your best friend immediately, hoping he’d be able to find and fix the problem, but really, you knew it was past that point now—and if you didn’t before, the shock on Hongjoong’s face when he’d popped the hood was evidence enough.

“Jesus, woman,” he said. “You gotta get this thing to a repair shop.”

“You know I can’t afford that,” you snapped back. Instantly you felt guilty for your tone, he was just trying to help after all, so you tried to soften up a bit. “Joong, can you really not fix it?”

“No, I’m sorry. But I know a guy who owns an auto shop. He’ll probably let me use my friends and family discount on you. I’ll give him a call.”

Relief flooded your chest and you hugged him tightly, thanking him profusely even as he walked away chuckling to make the call. In the meantime you called your professor; you thanked God you were such a good student, never missing class or assignments—you doubt she’d have been so forgiving otherwise. “Come by during office hours tonight and you can present it then,” she’d said, and you thanked her with a smile.

Okay, you thought. You just needed to deal with this, do your presentation and the nightmare would be over.

How wrong you were.

—

The auto shop was, well, pretty much how you pictured it. Cars in various states of completion sat in the spacious garage, walls piled with wheels and various other parts, the uses of which you probably would never have been able to guess. The only thing that took you by surprise was the tall, young looking guy who came up and introduced you as the owner.

“Hey, darling,” he smiled. “I’m Yunho. Let’s get you all fixed up, yeah?”

You blushed at his words, and the deep, sultry voice that spoke them. You imagined that was his intention; the way his eyes flickered up and down suggested the attraction was mutual. Or maybe that was just his personality; maybe the flirtatious tone, the innuendo of his words and his intense, intimidating gaze just came naturally to him.

He walked you over to where he had your car laid out and ready to go. Popping the hood, he surveyed the condition with a serious, focused expression. In the heat of the garage, his face was sweating slightly, and he swallowed thickly as he looked everything over. It made the vein in his neck bulge, tension obvious. When he stood back up again he seemed cool and assured; the opposite of you. You felt… confused. Hot. Tense.

“It’s not a huge problem,” he smiled. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour to fix it.”

You didn’t expect that. “Really?” You lit up, overjoyed and he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve got a staff room if you wanna wait around. May as well, since I should be done pretty quick.”

“Oh, yeah.” That made sense; there didn't seem to be many cafes or places around here for you to wait in anyway—and even if there were, none of them offered the view that the staff room he led you to had; the large glass window looking directly into the garage. You’d be able to keep an eye on your car as he worked—and on Yunho.

He got to work straight away and though you knew next to nothing about cars, save for the Youtube tutorials on greasing brakes and whatever else, but his skill was obvious. His large hands, covered by thick, dirtied gloves, worked quickly and efficiently.

He clearly knew you were watching him, and he clearly enjoyed it; every now and then he would look up from the car, meeting your eyes and tilting his head with a small, smug smirk. When he stood up to unzip his overalls, revealing a thin white t-shirt clinging to his broad chest, you found yourself inching closer and closer to the window without realising. Only when your face was practically pressed up against the glass did you back away, blushing furiously as you sunk into your seat. What the hell was wrong with you?

You’d never been like this about a man. Not even close. No one had ever made you so needy, so hot, so desperate. You didn’t even know you could be affected by someone in this way, yet here you were; thighs clenched together, breathing heavily and your face so hot you were practically feverish. He’d catch your gaze now and then still, and the expression on his face told you he knew everything that was going on in your head—and your body.

The sight of him putting the hood back down was a mercy and a curse; your car was fixed, you could leave, and you could get away from this man; three things you’d been waiting desperately for all this time.

But…did you even want to leave? It would be the smart thing to do, and the sooner you could get him out of your head, the better. But everything in your body screamed at you not to go, to stay and see what happens—if nothing did, at least you’d know. At least you wouldn’t have to wonder for the rest of your life.

He gestured for you to come out of the staff room, proudly showing you your fixed car. Your attraction to him aside, Yunho’s skill surprised you; the old, battered vehicle almost looked new, and when he started the engine to check it worked it sounded clearer and healthier than ever. “Holy shit,” you muttered.

Yunho laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty good. How do you wanna pay?”

You sighed. You never liked this part; who did? It was always painful to part ways with the little cash you earned at your god awful waitressing job, but you had to do what you had to do. “Card,” you mumbled.

“Alright,” he smiled. “It’s 250,000won. I’ll get the machine.”

He disappeared into what you guessed was another staff room and you stood awkwardly for a moment. Even with him gone the air was thick, sweaty; tense. He returned with the card machine, holding it out for you to take and you put your card in with shaking hands, pressing down the familiar numbers. Well, there goes the last of your mone—

The machine made a high-pitched, displeased noise that you knew all too well. Declined. You made a noise of shock, shaking your head in disbelief. It can’t have declined. You knew you had enough for this. You had to have enough. What the hell is—

Oh. Fuck. When they towed your car here this morning and you followed in a taxi with Hongjoong. When you insisted on paying the fare to thank him for his help. Fuck. You need to be a worse friend.

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt hands on yours; he grasped your shaking hands carefully, holding them steadily. His face was blank, but he seemed thoughtful.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “Fuck, what do I– I swear I–”

“Hey, hey.” His voice was calm and soft but a little lower than before. “Relax, doll. We’ll work something out, yeah?”

“Work something out?” You echoed his words, voice shaking.

“Of course,” he smiled. He tilted his head and you saw his eyes raking over you again; but this time it felt less like leering and more like… an inspection. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Tell me.” His voice seemed to have dropped an octave, thick with tension. “Are you really out of money?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Are you really out of money?” He repeated it, slower this time as though he was trying to dumb it down for you. “Or did you do this on purpose?”

You shook your head fervently, your body heating up with embarrassment and desperation and shame and, well, pretty much everything honestly. “No, Yunho, I—”

“I think you did.” He was grinning now, eyes piercing as he stared you down. He was still for a moment, seeming to consider something before he grabbed your chin, yanking your head up to meet his eyes. The material of the gloves was rough against your soft skin and the tightness of his grip was even more painful. “I bet you put the wrong numbers in on purpose, huh? Didn’t you?”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. You knew what he was saying wasn’t true, but fuck, you could already feel wetness pooling at the thought of what he’d do to you if it was. But he seemed to have made his mind up either way, so you decided to play his game—you widened your eyes fearfully, lip shaking as you said “I promise, I didn’t” in the most pathetic voice you could muster.

He knew what you were doing, and he fucking loved it. His smile widened as he leaned in closer to you. From this distance you could see his pupils were blown, eyes flashing with arousal. “I think you’re lying to me,” he whispers. “And you know what’s more, little girl?”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

He tightened his grip, yanking your head upwards again to expose your neck. His other hand wrapped itself around your throat like it belonged there. “I hate liars.”

—

You don’t even know how long he’s been fucking you now; your sense of time has blurred and muddied and it could have been minutes just as much as it could have been hours. All you can feel or think about is the feeling of his dick fucking you open, hitting your cervix over and over; and the strong arms that move and manipulate your body to increase his own pleasure.

He grabs your hair, yanking it back painfully and forcing you to look at him. “That’s it,” he grunts. “You’re gonna look at me while I’m fucking you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Yes, Yunho.”

“Good fucking girl.” His other hand wraps around your throat again, choking you just this side of too much. The head rush it gives you only sends you further into delirium, amplifying the other sensations. His deep, strained voice is fire in your ears. “Fucking stupid whore, aren’t you?”

He punctuates it with an extra hard thrust and you cry out again, voice strangled. “Yes, Yunho!” You scream. “Yes!”

“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me you’re a fucking whore.”

“I’m a fucking whore,” you repeat. To hear the words from your own mouth, to taste them on your tongue as he forces you to degrade yourself sends another wave of pleasure through you that pushes you closer to the edge. Yunho makes a pleased sound, rewarding you by loosening his grip on your neck ever so slightly.

“You’re my fucking whore,” he whispers. “Yunho’s whore.”

“Yunho’s whore.” You repeat it without thinking and you feel him throb again inside you at your natural submission. “I’m Yunho’s whore.

“That you fucking are. Bending over for me over 250,000 fucking won. You’re a cheap little slut,” he spits. “But only for me, yeah?”

“Yes!” You feel yourself about to come undone and just as you finally reach breaking point he pulls out, cock hard and leaking; before you can protest he picks you up without a word, flipping you onto your back before shoving his cock back inside. “Wanna see you properly when I come in you,” he grunts. “Wanna see those eyes go fucking dumb for me.”

He lifts your legs and pushes them back towards you. The stretch is painful and uncomfortable but it’s hard to care about any of that when he’s fucking you so deep and hard. The weight of his hands pressing down on the backs of your thighs will surely leave bruises but you don’t mind—you’d probably love it, actually.

Now that you’re facing him you can see all the small details of his face while he fucks you; the beads of sweat pooling on his forehead, the black hair soaked through with it, the narrowed eyes and clenched jaw as his grip on your thighs tightens even further. He’s practically pressing all his weight against you now and it’s a delicious, painful pleasure. You reach out to him desperately—though desperate for what you’re not quite sure—and he grabs your hands, bending down to pin your arms against the car as he takes you in a hot, wet, messy kiss.

“Pretty girl,” he chokes. “So fucking pretty.”

“Yunho.” You feel tears pouring down your cheeks, overwhelmed with sensation, with the feeling of Yunho on every inch of your body. He pulls his mouth away from yours to press sloppy kisses across your jaw and neck, teasing the skin with his teeth. “Think you can come for me?” He murmurs. “Just from being used like this?”

“Yes, Yunho,” you whisper. “I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growls. He moves a hand down to press his thumb against your swollen clit, making you buck against him. “Come on my fat fucking cock like a good little girl. Earn your keep, baby.”

The heat in his words and the pressure of his thumb on your clit are enough to send you barrelling over the edge; you come with a noise you didn’t even know you made and he follows quickly, releasing inside of you with a strangled cry.

It’s silent for a moment and time seems to still while you process what’s just happened. You whine when you feel him pull out of you and he chuckles, gently slapping your pussy. “What a good girl,” he muses. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He sends you on your way with his business card in your pocket and his number in your phone. It takes you two weeks to find the nerve to call him, and that’s only because your car’s been making a weird noise that you can’t figure out. To be honest, it’s probably something Hongjoong or one of your other friends would be able to solve, but it’s too late now; you’ve already pulled up his contact and pressed call.

“Well hello, sweetheart.” Yunho’s voice is as deep as ever, his tone teasing. “Was starting to think I wouldn’t hear from you.”

“Yeah, um.” You clear your throat awkwardly, feeling yourself heat up again. “My car— it’s making a weird noise. Can you take a look at it?”

“Of course,” he says, and you hear the leering smile in his voice. “Why don’t you come down now? It’s a slow day at the shop anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Oh, and baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bring your credit card.”

—

requests open! comments and feedback appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

tags: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez x reader #ateez hard thoughts #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #yunho hard thoughts #yunho hard hours #yunho x reader #mulloey writes

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champagnefountains · 1 year ago

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LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Genre: Angst and hurt; somewhat fluffy (but only for a brief while). Warnings: Swearing. Unhealthy relationship/coping mechanisms (?). Word count: 2.2k+

Lucifer had been courting you for a couple of months already, the King of Hell finally deciding it was time to make the two of you official. The tension was so incredibly thick, that even the hotel’s patrons were growing sick of having to watch the two of you dance aimlessly around each other. Charlie included.

The past couple of months were more than delightful – Lucifer treated you like a Queen, taking you out almost every other night, having nice candle-lit dinners, and dancing the night away. And if you weren’t really feeling the glamour, the both of you would stay cuddled up against one another whilst watching some cliche rom-com. It was like a dream. It was perfect…well, almost.

The very source of your concerns was the golden band that remained in Lucifer’s ring-finger.

You knew about the heart-break and torment that Lucifer underwent following his separation with Lilith. Understandably, having been together for many decades and centuries, the King had a difficult time trying to move on. Even in the earlier stages of your relationship, when he had been comfortable confiding in you, it was evident that he still deeply cared for Lilith, despite her absence.

You tried to be understanding – you really, really did. But every time you held his hand, the cold metal feeling against your fingers set a painful reminder that maybe he still hasn’t moved on completely.

It filled you to the brim with self-doubt. Perhaps he was just keeping you around just to fill in the void she had left. And if that were the case, were you even doing a good enough job in that? Hypothetically, if Lilith were to waltz in front of the hotel’s doors one day, was he going to throw you off to the side and run away with her? What if he’d grow bored of you all of a sudden?

Questions such as these would linger at the back of your head constantly, and as they did, you would cast a longing gaze in his direction. When he catches your eye, he would automatically send a smile your way, pearly-whites in full display. It would make you smile without fail, because how could it not? You loved that dashing smile of his. But everyday, you wondered if you could continue to maintain that smile in your life.

One night in particular, during dinner at one of Hell’s finest establishments, Lucifer noticed that something was off. Your smile hasn’t been reaching your eyes, and you seemed like you were anywhere but here. Your eyes had a distant look to them and whenever he’d ask if something was wrong, you would become dismissive. It concerned him a lot.

“Darling, are you alright?” Lucifer carefully asked once you both made it to the front porch of the hotel. “Was it the food? Was it not to your liking? Because the chicken was a bit off to be honest, it could’ve been a bit more seasoned–”

“Luci,” you intervened and grabbed his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The food was great, really. It’s just…” As your voice trailed off, you were quick to feel that damn ring around his finger. Because, of course you did, and it didn’t help your mood at all. You force out a huff and pull away, causing the demon’s frown to deepen, “I’m feeling a little under the weather tonight – probably just lacking a bit of sleep.”

Lucifer scanned your face all over, his brows furrowed in worry. “Well…I guess you have been working harder for the hotel recently.” There had been some truth in that – after all, there had been an influx of sinners in the hotel since the cancellation of this year’s extermination. But he didn’t seem to stop there, not fully convinced by your reasoning, “...But are you sure that’s all, my dear?”

You looked at him, surprised, as if suddenly caught red-handed. He was quick to pick up on that too, confirming his suspicions and making him all the more nervous.

“What are you trying to say?” You ask.

“Well, i-it’s just that I noticed that you’ve been acting a bit off recently,” he splutters. “And not only tonight. You’ve become a bit more…I don’t know, distant with me. And it worries me, y’know? I just…I really, really care about you. A lot.” He almost looks defeated as he rubs anxiously at his nape, “And if I’m being honest, it scares the absolute shit out of me that what I’m doing now isn't right."

Your brows crease in confusion, “...What are you talking about?”

Lucifer closed his eyes, dragging a palm against his face as an exaggerated groan leaves his lips. “Look, I’m not exactly experienced with all…all this – the one woman I’ve ever been in a committed relationship with left me. Just like that!” He lets out a humourless snort. “A-And I don’t know what I did to make her leave and I for sure don’t want to make that same mistake again. I…I want to be assured that I’m making you happy.”

Lucifer looks up at you, eyes filled with warmth, as he places a gentle hand against your cheek. He breaks the distance between you to press his forehead against yours. You automatically lean against him out of habit. “I don’t want to lose you. And if I’m doing something wrong, tell me. Please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads, his voice almost falling into a whisper. The unexpected confession left you speechless, your chest feeling all the more tight. It was making you feel worse than you already did.

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to keep the pending tears at bay. “Luci, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…I-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Trust me when I say that you’ve been nothing more than a gentleman, and every moment we’ve spent together has been magical. I appreciate you so, so much, and I could never, ever ask for anything more.”

You shut your eyes tight, shame filling your very core. “I’m just being a little silly–”

“No, no. Don’t say that, darling. Please tell me what’s going on. It’s okay,” Lucifer encourages softly, his thumb rubbing reassuringly against your cheek.

You grab his wrist and gently pull your face away from him. With the hand on his arm, you slide it down to grab at his own, bringing it up into view and in-between the both of you. Almost instantaneously, both your eyes lie on the golden band on his finger – to Lucifer, it suddenly clicks. But he couldn’t help but feel an internal conflict brew within him.

“I-I know how much that ring and Lilith means to you. I really do and I feel awful having to feel this way, but I just…I can’t help it,” you mutter, finally allowing the first couple of tears to fall, “I-I often find myself counting the days and hours when you’ll suddenly realise that I will never be good enough for you. It feels like I’m constantly having to compete with her–heck, what am I even saying? I know I’ll never be able to compete – because, I mean, come on. I'm a nobody!” You chuckle tearfully whilst gesturing to yourself with a free hand.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you’d ever settle for someone like me. I’m not nearly as important, nor am I the best-looking demon out there. I’m just me.”

“But Lucifer, whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I smile more. Laugh more. I even enjoy the little things more. And I don’t want that to go away. And I’m just hoping– Satan, I’m fucking hoping that it’s the same for you. And if it is, then how long is that going to last with me?”

Completely shocked, Lucifer watched in silence as his love sobbed their heart out in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to go and wrap you in his warm embrace, and whisper reassurances and hush down your cries. Because, you were right – you did make him happy. So unbelievably happy. You had been the light that casted away the shadows in his darkest times. And yet, why? Why did he remain where he stood, unmoving as tears pathetically poured from his eyes? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

There was a brief, stagnant moment of contemplation where the both of you just stood there. It was the realisation that Lucifer didn’t make any effort to formulate some form of response, that disappointed you even further. It only made the doubtful voice in your head louder.

It was you who ultimately decided to make the first move, wiping tiredly at your reddened face as you glanced at the hotel’s door. “I’ll be heading off first. I’ll be in the guest room tonight – it’s been a long day,” you raspily say, hiccuping as you pushed through the doors and disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lucifer alone outside.

As you entered the hotel, you immediately noticed Husk’s presence by the bar, who had been polishing some glasses by the counter. In front of him was Angel, who was making some sweet, small talk with him. They were both alerted by your entrance as the doors flew open, and as Angel was about to greet you in his usual playful fashion, his voice fell flat when he saw the depressed state you were in.

“Woah, there. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit,” Angel asked, standing to meet you half-way, “I thought you and Short-King were out on a date. Did something happen?”

“We were but we had a fight or something,” you tiredly shrugged as you walked past the arachnid and plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools. You swirled yourself on the seat to face Husk. “Give me the strongest shit you have. And make it double,” you waved absently at the feline-demon, who raised an incredulous brow at your bluntness. “Damn, it must be that serious considering you don’t even drink,” he grumbles as he turns to start brewing a glass of something, “...do you wanna talk about it?"

You contemplated his offer for a second and realised that you did. For the next five or so minutes, you ended up recounting everything that happened earlier tonight, all the while shedding even more tears. Angel was kind enough to supply you with a mountain of tissues to cry into.

“Well, it sounds to me that your man’s got a whole lot of thinking to do,” Husk clicks his tongue. “But what you’re feeling is completely valid.” “Yeah, who the fuck wears their ol’ wedding ring while dating someone else? What an asshole,” Angel hisses.

“S-So you guys think there’s a possibility that he might consider ending things with me?” You question dejectedly. Husk and Angel share a look of uncertainty, suddenly feeling the need to be careful of their words. Because they genuinely weren’t sure.

“I–Look, that’s not something we should be focusing on at the moment– I mean, of course, let’s hope that that’s not where this is going. I just think he needs some space to think things through properly,” Husk says.

“And I know I was talking a whole lot of shit before but let’s take the benefit of the doubt and look at things from his point of view. He was in that boat for more than a couple thousand years. And shit, that’s a lot of fucking years.” Angel points out. “It might take him a while longer to adjust to that, y’know?” Angel places a hand on your shoulder, grinning at you reassuringly, “But there’s one thing for sure that myself and everyone else knows: the guy loves yah, toots. Anyone with eyes can see it, and you guys are really fucking disgusting about it too–ow!”

Angel suddenly lunges forward against the counter as one of Husk’s wings swipes down to slap the back of his head. “‘The fuck was that for?! It’s true, ain’t it?!” Husk rolled his eyes at his dramatics, before turning back to you. “He’s right, though. Just…just give him a bit more time. I’m sure in the end, the both of you will be fine.”

Meanwhile, Lucifer decided to head back to his own castle, wanting to be alone to sort through his cluttered thoughts. He was beyond upset with himself for making you cry like that, because it was the last thing he wanted. But he was more upset at the fact that he didn’t know how to navigate through his emotions, despising that he found himself second guessing his feelings.

As you explicitly implied, was he really still unconsciously longing for Lilith? Was that why he kept wearing his ring? Why was he still wearing it? Was it just for his own comfort? But why would he need it anyways? You were there, weren’t you? All he had said to you tonight, he was contradicting himself, wasn’t he? Perhaps he’s scared. Maybe he isn’t ready yet. But, why would he be with you if he didn’t think so? What exactly were you to him? And what exactly was Lilith to him now?

Lucifer was a complete mess, and that night he couldn’t find a single blink of sleep as these thoughts plagued him. And neither could you, as you scrutinised every aspect of your relationship, thinking of what this could mean for the both of you, moving forward.

Yeah…perhaps you both needed some time.

Chapter II [x]

#lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

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bloatedandalone04 · 3 months ago

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Shower Sex with Rafe - Blurb

WC: 1.3k | Warnings: smut, smut, more smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, shower sex, unprotected sex, swearing, dirty talk to the max, here’s my impulsive rafe blurb, enjoy

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

It started out innocent enough, but then again, nothing was innocent with Rafe.

A simple shower to wash away the evidence of your two rounds of fucking last night, seemed pretty easy to do without getting dirty all over again.

But then Rafe started washing your body, and then he started kissing your neck, and now he was on his knees with his lips pressed to your inner thigh.

He looked so sinful and so fucking sexy as he knelt before you on the shower floor, his pretty blue eyes gazing up at you as he peppered your skin in soft kisses.

You were already whimpering as you reached down and ran your fingers through his wet hair, subtly trying to guide him to the place he seemed to be purposely avoiding despite him starting this whole thing.

You weren’t left waiting much longer though, because soon enough, he was leaning in and brushing his lips against your heat. “Gonna make you feel so, baby,” he promised - one you knew he’d always live up to, before slowly dragging his tongue along your slit.

He was in no rush as he licked along your quivering folds, groaning at the taste that only belonged to you. He does that about five times until you’re a writhing, whimpering, mess above him, and then he focuses his tongue on just your clit while his fingers slide knuckle-deep into your soaked center with ease.

Your loud whines filled the steamy bathroom, the sound echoing around the shower as your boyfriend got you off in the way he always did. “Rae,” you moaned, slowly grinding against his fingers as the water continued to pour down onto you and him, but you both were actively ignoring the warm stream. “Fuck, baby. Feels so good…”

Rafe groaned against your mound, sending a sharp jolt right up your body. “Mm, you taste so fucking sweet,” he practically growled, sending more shockwaves of ecstasy through your core as he fucked his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. “Could eat this pretty pussy all day.”

His words made your eyes roll back a bit as more loud, lewd sounds left your mouth. “God, yes…don’t stop, please,”

Rafe curls his fingers inside you, the tips brushing against that sweet, deep spot as he seals his lips around your clit again and sucks hard. His free hand guided one of your thighs over his shoulder before sliding higher and gripping your ass, pulling you impossibly closer to his relentless mouth as he devoured you like a man starved.

When you let out a sharp gasp and tightened your grip on hair, Rafe smirked against your puffy bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby,” he praised, “Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeeze my fingers when you do.”

“Rae,” you whined again, grinding against his hand harder as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum so hard.”

Your legs were shaking, the one not currently draped over his shoulder threatening to give out at any second as you moaned helplessly. Your spine tingled with that familiar feeling Rafe never failed to give you, and you leaned your head back on the cool, tiled wall.

“Right there, Rafe, don’t stop, baby,” you begged, your moans growing louder in pitch until the knot snapped and you came all over his fingers, your pussy squeezing them just like he wanted.

Rafe groaned as he felt your release gush over his fingers, your tight walls clenching around his digits as he pumped them in and out of you. His mouth continues to suck and lick your clit, prolonging your high until you’re trembling and writhing against the wall.

“That’s my good girl,” he mumbled, slowly pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to his mouth to lick clean. He stands back up, towering over you as he captures your lips in a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself as his throbbing cock pressed against your belly. “I want you, baby. Want to bury myself in your perfect body and never leave.”

You let out another needy moan, kissing him back messily as you tangle your fingers in his soaked hair. “Fuck me, Rae,” you murmured, subtly grinding your still pulsing core against him. “I want your cock, baby…every single inch.”

Your words were filthy, but so were his. That was just how you and he had always been; never shy or embarrassed or afraid to tell each other what you wanted, craved or needed.

And right now, you both needed to indulge in a rough shower fuck.

Rafe grinned, his eyes darkened with lust as he lifted you up effortlessly, pinning you against the cold tiles. “You want it, baby?” he grunted, his leaking tip brushing against your wet folds as he kissed you. Then he buried himself inside you with one deep thrust, groaning loudly against your mouth. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

His hands slid down to grip the undersides of your thighs as your back arched off the wall, his hips beginning to rock into yours as he set a brutal, steady pace. He fucked into you with long, deep strokes that had your head falling back and your nails raking down his back. “Just like that,” you gasped, digging your nails into his skin as he held you up without a single sign of struggle.

Your boyfriend’s strength always turned you on so much, and when he used it on you? Fuck, you were done for.

“Just like that, Rae,” you praised, your whole body tingling as you leaned in and nipped and tugged at his ear with your teeth. “You feel so good…your cock feels so good. We fit so perfectly.”

“Fuck yeah we do,” he pants, “You were made for me…made for this. You’re always so fucking wet for me, aren’t you baby?”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod quickly, your nails finally giving his back a break as you reach up to pull on his hair. “Yes.” you answered, biting down harshly on your lip as he fucked you hard against the wall.

Rafe grunted, leaning in and kissing you, all teeth and tongue as he swallowed your moans. The lewd sound of your bodies coming together bounced off the shower walls, easily overpowering the faint sound of the water. “You take me so well, baby,” he muttered against your mouth, releasing one of his hands from your thigh to rub quick circles on your already overstimulated clit. “So good for me.”

You cried out, your body tensing up as you felt yourself get close again. “Harder,” you rasped, your eyes rolling back as you pulled harder on his hair. “Please…harder.”

Rafe hummed, leaning down to suck a purple mark onto your neck as he thrust faster, harder and deeper into you. “You love my cock so much, don’t you, baby? This pretty pussy was made just for me, wasn’t it? Just for my dick,” he grunted, feeling his own high approaching. “Cum for me again. Let me feel how tight you really are, sweet girl.”

You were done for after that, your back arching off the wall again as you came hard for him. Your body sucked him in more and more with every passing second, your warmth flooding around his cock as he fucked you through your high.

Once you were practically limp in Rafe’s arms, he finally let himself go, his dick twitching and pulsing as he emptied himself inside you, marking you as his in the most dirty, possessive way. “Fuck yes, baby, take it,” he groaned, his voice deep and steady as the last few ropes of white filled you up. He kissed you, a messy, breathless share of air as he slowly ground his hips against yours, ensuring you took every last drop. “Love you so fucking much, my sweet, sexy girl.”

He lowered you back down to the floor after that, his arms wrapping around your middle as he knew you most likely wouldn’t be able to feel your legs for the rest of this shower, and a proud smirk formed on his lip as he resumed his task of washing your body - as if he didn’t just fuck you senseless until you were a whimpering mess in his arms.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks rafe

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tonycries · 8 months ago

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F*ck You! (Literally) - T.F.

Synopsis. Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, angry séx, spítting, degradation, y’all are both mean, rough, jealousy (Toji’s side), bréeding, smackíng, arguíng during it, cúmplay, overstím, oral (female receiving), mentions of Megumi and Shiu, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.7k

A/N. Gojo next week because I miss my man smh.

It’s not often that you contemplate something that would definitely end up with a night in jail - but it seems that somehow whenever you did, your ex-husband Toji was always sure to be the cause of it.

Like that time he had the audacity to ask you out to dinner right outside the divorce attorney’s office, mere moments after signing those papers. Or when he “accidentally” sent you some mouthwateringly shirtless photos - through email, of course, because you had him blocked otherwise. Although, you’d saved those pictures - a secret you’d take to the grave.

And now.

Standing right outside your front door, on the night of what would’ve been your fifth anniversary. His imposing figure filling the frame, that tiny scar you loved and hated so much quirking up ever-so-slightly as he shoots you a sly grin.

He’s here.

Looking as devastatingly handsome as the day you left him.

“Happy anniversary, ex-wifey.”

And just as irritating, too.

That snaps you out of your traitorous little reverie, and before long you’re sputtering out a shaky, “Y-you. What do you think you’re doing here?” Not even waiting for his response before moving to shut the door in his face.

“Oh, believe me,” Toji lets out a humorless little laugh, reaching up a sculpted arm to stop the door in its tracks. “I wouldn’t be here even if I wanted to.”

That was a lie - and Toji knew that. He had half the mind to think that you knew that. But it didn’t matter when you’re glaring up at him so prettily. The confusion evident on your face as you grit out a shrill, “Then why am I seeing your stupid face tonight?”

“Chance? Luck? A blessing?”

Scoffing, “A curse.”

“That mouth’s still as sharp as ever, huh?” He cocks his head in amusement, “Did you not see my email?”

“No, I uh-” you mumble, face burning. And oh you wish you could stop yourself from thinking back to those photos - stop yourself from wanting to smack the smirk off Toji’s face that told you he was, too. “-blocked you on…that…as well.”

“Mhm.” he hums, eyes lingering too long on your comfy pajamas - his favorite ones - and the way you’re squirming so adorably under the intensity of his gaze. “Well, m’just here to pick up one of that brat’s toys. Won’t take long n’ I’ll be out of your sight, doll.”

And you can’t say anything about that familiar little petname, because it hits you with a pang - oh, how you missed Megumi.

He’d thrown a tantrum until he was allowed to visit you occasionally, of course. But still, it was nothing compared to how inseparable the three of you were before your relationship with Toji soured. His line of work too dangerous, the fights more frequent until you’d had enough.

“Ah, yes. Megs probably won’t even leave the house without it.” you chuckle, opening the door wider. “I was surprised to find it the other day since he said that lil’ plushie was his best friend. After me.”

“After me.”

“Liar.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fitting for our anniversary, huh?” And oh how Toji enjoyed riling you up. To spy that little furrow between your brows as he strides inside your apartment like it was his own - he did know it like the back of his hand. “I already know where the bed is, after all.”

“Yeah, and you know where the door is too.” you mutter, acting like it didn’t make your head spin to think of Toji - in your home. With you. You and Toji. In your home. You and Toji in your home.

You hadn’t seen him since the divorce just four months ago, and here he was looking so unfairly like he fit right in. Taking up much more time than necessary as he walks towards that little wolf toy on your couch. Eyeing up the sappy romance movie paused on-screen, and those familiar photographs on the wall.

You still had that one of the two of you from that beach getaway two years ago, he noted with delight.

“Heh, for someone that hates me so much, s’funny you have my face hung up here.” he smirks, words just dripping with that familiar dark tone that has shivers running down your spine. “Knew you were still into me.” Defiant - challenging, even, because he always did like to push all your buttons.

Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for-

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, walking towards where Toji stood. “I jus’ use it to scare off clingy dates in the morning.”

And you loved to push his buttons even more.

“Oh? Dates, huh?” And something about those words make you feel like something’s too-tense. Exciting, even. Especially as he repeats - more to himself than you, “Dates.”

“Jealous?”

“Heh, of whatever scrub took you out? In your dreams, doll.” Maybe it was the way Toji was joking - but didn’t sound like he was at all. Or maybe it was the way he didn’t move as you stepped closer, enough that you’re almost toe-to-toe with him. Probably it was the way he murmurs out a strangled, “M’not jealous.”

Oh.

You watch the way his body stiffens, darkened eyes flitting between you and the picture and you- Smirking “Good, because m’having one over soon.”

“Oh, you little bitch.” He spits out the words, gaze hardening in a way you knew did not bode well for your - or down there. Hitting it where it hurts, “This is why I’m so fuckin’ glad we divorced.”

“Fuck you,” you tilt your head, anger simmering beneath your skin - and you didn’t know who was pissing each other off more. “So then you can get out before my date gets here.” And the emphasis on “date” isn’t lost on him.

“Such a liar.”

“M’not lying.” You were - but you didn’t care if Toji could tell because it was ticking him off just the same. “You could say he’s an-” Now close enough that you could feel the heat of his proximity. A finger stabbing right in his pecs with each word, “-upgrade.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled to his rock-hard chest, all the dips and curves of his body so sinfully obvious against your skin as he questions, “How so?”

“Well, for starters he’s-” you gasp, casting a sidelong glance at the way the muscles in his arms ripple. And it takes everything in you to try and keep your voice steady, “-bigger.” Thighs pressing together at the tiny grunt of disbelief that leaves your ex-husband, too-aware of the strong hand wrapped around your waist. “And sexier.”

“And?”

“And what?” you gulp, raising your head to blink up at him in confusion and oh-

Oh, shit. You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Toji’s eyes were wide, a mirthless smirk spreading across his face, jaw tensing as he leans down to whisper hotly against your ear, words hoarse - stilted, like it pained him to even speak them into existence. “And what other lies are ya gonna make up?”

And you might be a genius - you might just not know what’s good for you.

Because you’re batting your lashes just the way you knew he liked, the words - saccharine sweet, and falling from your lips faster than your whirling brain could even register them. “And he makes me cum so much harder.”

Toji’s lips are crashing against yours - and you knew it was coming. You wanted them to. Bruising, angry - like he was telling you to just shut the fuck up, another word of your imaginary date and it would kill him.

He tasted the same as he did all those months ago. Sweet, like those cheap lollipops he would buy you and that absolute sin of his scar rubbing against your lips.

“Fuck-” he lets out a guttural groan into your lips. Only a sloppy mix of teeth and spit as he kisses you with the collective desperation of a little over four months. “Hate how you’re-” Like he didn’t even care if it left your poor lips swollen and bruised - at least that might give whatever loser coming here a hint. “-still addictive.”

With that, he picks you up like it’s just nothing, your traitorous legs easily wrapping around his toned waist. Letting you pull off that sinfully snug t-shirt to feel the smooth planes of all his muscles. Soft. Warm.

You gasp at how he manhandles you so that your thin pajama pants are just above his achingly hard cock, throbbing, and so so angry against your core. Trousers already so damp with- precum? Your slick?

“Hah- not jealous my ass-” you hiss, grinding down on his bulge.

And Toji’s parting mere millimeters, chuckling darkly at the disappointed little whine that escapes you. “Yeah, well, does he ever get you like this?” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, purposely not giving you what you want. “Does he ever get you this-” Grinding you against his straining erection, two fingers sliding down, just teasing the drenched front of your shorts. “-this fuckin’ wet?”

“Nah,” you pull on Toji’s silky locks, nipping at his collarbone. “He gets me wetter.”

“You little-”

It’s like something snaps - whatever’s left of Toji’s sanity, your patience, possibly you by the end of this. Anything but the thick, suffocating - tension in your living room. Now too small. Too hot.

Before you can react, your back is hitting the soft cushions of your couch. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw as Toji looms over you.

“Thought you knew where the bed was?” you manage to get out, in the heat of it all.

“Thought you hated me?”

“Gonna kill you if you break this cou-” but the rest of the retort on your tongue dies as Toji’s hands are suddenly everywhere.

Groping your breasts - your waist - your ass. Barely giving you time to even think before fisting your shirt in one hand. Too impatient - too starved - to do anything other than pull down, down, down until it-

RIP!

“Oh you fuckin’ slut.” Toji’s jaw drops into a soft little oh! at the sight of your heavenly breasts before him. No bra - exactly how he liked it. “How I missed these.” Massaging them under his hands, “Is this for him or ya really had no idea I was coming?”

“You’re t-too fuckin’ hah-” you whine as he immediately takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipples. “-full of yourself.”

And you don’t even know if Toji registered the insult - looking like he was on cloud nine as he rolled your other nipple between two fingers. Pulling off with a lewd pop! only to say, “Wonder if you’re the same down there.”

You are - Toji discovers, with wonder.

Hooking a finger underneath the hem of your already-soaked shorts to pull them off. And, hey, Toji hasn’t had this view in months - so he really can’t help himself from bringing them up to his face. Your jaw drops at his pure audacity as he breathes in the scent of your dripping pussy with a strained, “M’keepin’ these, doll.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re soaked.” strong hands spread your legs so shamefully. You can’t fight it - how fucking wet and glistening you were for him under the dim-lighting. Toji grins cockily, “Who’s she this wet for, huh? Me or him?”

“Not- not you-” you whine, despite how your sloppy cunt was leaking all over your legs - such a mess. A mess that Toji was shifting down the couch to lick up. Slow, lazy circles right at your inner thighs. Sweet - so sweet, his favorite. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste and oh, how Toji missed this.

Missed teasing you until you broke.

Which, it turns out, happens fairly early.

“Y-you’re just fucking talk.” you hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. Your voice betraying how badly you wanted him. Needed him to do something - anything. “He-”

Toji doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - and you don’t need to - because without another word, he’s surging forward until he was nose-deep in your messy cunt.

Licking one, long stripe up your swollen folds - up and down, up and down, up and- He murmurs into your cunt, “Do ya still like when I-” Hot tongue flicking roughly against your clit. Just barely, and you’re bucking wildly underneath him. ��Ah, you do. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Of course, the only response that Toji gets is a wet, pathetic murmur of something - maybe a plea, probably a curse at him to shut up.

But it’s something that has all the blood rushing to his aching cock, something that has him biting down lightly on your inner thigh - just a little punishment.

“What was that?” he purrs, “Didn’t seem to hear you right, wifey.”

It takes everything in you to gasp out, a barely-audible determined little, “I-I said-” fingers threading through Toji’s hair, pulling up his face. Hard, so that he’s forced to meet your eyes instead of admiring your pretty lil’ cunt. “-fuck you.”

And you don’t know what you expected - maybe an insult back, maybe for him to get up and leave you all high and dry right then and there.

But oh you should’ve known your ex-husband better, because he has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh, more to infuriate you than anything as he promptly spits on your quivering pussy.

Once. Twice.

You flinch as some splatters against your thigh, and you both know it’s on purpose. Because Toji Fushiguro always had perfect aim - but when it comes to you, well, he had to knock his bratty lil’ wife down a few pegs.

Throwing your legs over his shoulders to lick all over your sloppy pussy once more. “Fuck me, huh?” he groans out little profanities into your cunt, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me-”

Smack!

You register that delicious little sting on your ass far before the realization that Toji smacked you - and even later do you realize that you liked it. Slick beading through at the painfully good feeling.

Liked the way his rough palm was soothing over the sting, words strangled and slurring together as he smacks his lips against your swollen, sensitive ones. “I’d rather you fuck me than some hah- other loser.”

“S-so fucking mean-” you moan.

“So what?” His thumb draws tight little circles on your throbbing clit, the other hand looping around your waist - bruising - as he drags your sloppy pussy all over his hot mouth. “No one else could do this.” Soft tongue going all the way up from your base, “Get you this wet-” Just dipping into your clenching hole. “-taste you like this.”

“Hngh- fuck-” you groan, as he alternates between flicking your clit so mean and squeezing his tongue into your tight cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck- s’too much-”

Too much? Toji wanted to laugh - if he wasn’t so addicted to the feeling of your gummy walls stretched out so obscenely on his tongue, anyway. He knows you can take it - you always did.

And he tells you that - a little over ten times, actually, as the hand on your waist arches you deeper and deeper onto Toji’s tongue. Fucking you so harshly - merciless. Unrelenting. Like he was taking any and every shred of anger out on your ravaged cunt.

Bucking your hips wildly, you tipping your head down to look at the sight below you and oh-

You gasp at how sinfully blissed out Toji looks between your thighs. Eyes glassy and hooded, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. Your slick glossing his lips so prettily - and if you angled your head just right you could catch the way it drips down his jawline. Yeah, maybe you really did like his face between your legs.

“Always knew ya did, doll.” he echoes against your glistening lips and shit, did you say that out loud?

It doesn’t matter, because Toji has his lips smushing against yours, such a filthy mess of spit and fingers and tongue - everywhere. Like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to taste more. “Knew your pussy missed me, even when you’re such some other bastard. She’s still so sweet.” Thrusting in and out faster past that first, feeble ring of resistance. “So messy f’me. Fuckin’ my tongue so good for s-someone that hates me.”

And you have half the mind to wonder whether it hurt - how his fingers weren’t cramping up yet, lips aching. Letting you push his face deeper into your pussy, ankles locking around his broad shoulders in a desperate attempt to shut him up. Close.

“Y-you talk ngh- too much.” Blood roaring in your ears, feeling his smirk against your cunt. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“Nah, I know you ah- love it.” Smack! Another handprint on your ass that has you stuttering and jolting on his face. “Can feel you clenching all around me because I-” Toji gives you such an infuriating wink from below, “-eat this pussy the best.”

And you would be mad at how cocky he was being - if you weren’t cumming all over his pretty face.

Stars behind your eyes with each little lick of Toji’s tongue as he fucks you through your high, lapping up all your sweet sweet juices.

“W-wait oh-” you were letting out such delirious little whines. “S’too sensitive- too- hngh-”

“No-” he grits out, voice shot. “No no no no- wan’ it. Need it.” Scrambling to pull your hips back onto his mouth. Fingers just bruising on your skin.

He was like a man possessed, and you can only lay there and take it as Toji tips his head back to let your slick slide, down, down, down his throat. Voice shot, as he grits out, “Oh fuck, been holdin’ out on me.” Eyes unfocused and miles away as he comes up to squish your cheeks together in an embarrassing little pout. “Open that fucking mouth.”

And you barely even realize it when you are - tongue lolling out so sinfully. The only thing jolting you back to whatever senses you have left is Toji spitting in your mouth.

A steady, angry stream of saliva before his lips are clashing once more with yours. Purposefully letting your juices smear all over both your lips, tasting yourself and him and how desperate you were on his tongue-

“O-oh my god.” you break the kiss at the feeling of something so hard against your cunt. Delicate strings of spit snapping as you whirl down to look. Shit, when did he even take off his-

Ah, how Toji loves the breathless little whimper that leaves your lips at the sight of his too-tight boxers, the insults failing you now. Humming, “Like what ya see?”

As if to prove his point, he tugs them down just enough that his rock-hard cock springs free. Fuck, you think you’ll never get used to it, even after so long - Toji was so fucking massive. Flushed red, soaked in beads of precum that drip down, down, down all the way to the tufts of black at his toned pelvis.

So thick and angry that your legs were clenching together just at the mere sight. And Toji notices - how could he not?

“Yeah…” he murmurs, as if continuing a conversation from before. Muscled arms pushing your thighs apart to watch how your sloppy pussy was drooling all over the couch. “She definitely missed me, look how much she’s gushing.” Pooling your juices on his fingertips, “Clean your act up, doll”

“Shut up.” you squeal, embarrassedly, giving Toji a glare that makes his balls squeeze so painfully. Smirking, “You’re not even as big as him.”

Oh.

Well, Toji didn’t like that - not one bit, in fact, as he shoves his dripping wet fingers in your mouth - pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knows will have your pretty eyes welling up with tears.

“Then why aren’t you with him, you little bitch. Think I like you better when you’re f-fucked dumb.” he spits dangerously against your lips. Fisting his cock to lazily drag up and down your puffy folds. “Don’t you hah- agree?”

He doesn’t get to find out if you agree - and he doesn’t care, either. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to give an answer even if you wanted to. Because his swollen cock was too thick, the stretch too sinful, too dizzying as Toji splits you apart on his unforgiving cock.

“Mmmpf- fuck! Hah-” you mewl, torn between running away from his cock and bucking down for more more more-

“More?” he laughs, “Ya ask him for more like this too?”

And oh how so very cute and pliant you were being stuffed full. He barely gives you the time to adjust because - why would he? Toji has his mouthy wife all breathless and splayed out so shamefully, desperately trying to milk his cock for all he’s worth.

Barely even halfway in, yet he rocks into you in shallow, teasing little grinds just to fit himself inside your tight pussy. So mean. Not giving a fuck about those teary whimpers leaving your mouth.

“They ever ngh- fuck you like this?” he rasps, dropping his head to leave little bites down your tender neck. “Ever h-having you crying for his dick like ngh- this?” And despite all his confidence, Toji didn’t want to hear the answer - didn’t want to know the truth. “Such a slut.”

Your nails rake angrily down his sculpted shoulders - a warning, and it’s about the only thing you can do as Toji speeds up. Faster. Deeper.

“Heh, what? Markin’ me up for others to hah- see?” he cooes, mockingly. And you could just cry as his grin widens, finally - finally - pulling his fingers out. “Why don’t you ngh- use your words instead?”

And you should probably breathe, probably tell him to fuck you exactly the way he wants to - to confess to him that this is all you’ve ever wanted on those lonely nights these past four months. But the both of you know that it’s more fun this way.

So instead, you smile sweetly, “F-fuck you. They do - a lot better, too.”

If only your voice hadn’t cracked so unconvincingly at the end - if only you hadn’t let out such a pornographic moan as Toji pulls your face to meet his. Kissing you over and over and his hips-

“I’m the one fucking you, doll.” he bites down on your lower lip, tugging and pushing at a senseless little rhythm - the complete opposite of his hips. “Remember that.” And that’s all that’s said before Tojis finally bottoming out all the way to the hilt. Heavy balls smacking sinfully against your ass, fat head just kissing your cervix. “It’s me. I don’t give a hah- shit if it’s been f-four mouths, it’ll always be ngh- me.”

The couch creaked in protest as Toji fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do. Like he was trying to fuck every thought of whoever came after him right out of you - along with those silly little thoughts about the divorce.

“B-but-” your eyes widen as Toji runs his mouth - as hasty and urgent as his movements now. Fingers snaking up to toy with your still-sensitive clit, not even drawing circles anymore - just messy, little patterns just to get you off. “We’re already-”

“You s-still think we’re oh- nothing but exes?” he questions, sounding as surprised as you felt. “We can’t stay ah- God, we can’t stay apart and you fuckin’ know it. So…”

You gulp, already knowing the answer to the question he was just goading you into asking. “So?”

“So…” Toji muses, giving your swollen lips a short, chaste peck. Whispering against them, “M’gonna hah- fuck you till everyone knows you’re mine.”

A promise that Toji Fushiguro was well and fully intent on fulfilling. And you didn’t doubt that he’d have any trouble with it, in fact.

Because he’s rutting into you so animalistically now, so so sloppy. Torn between savoring the feeling of your plushy walls squeezing him to insanity and abusing your poor cervix. Prominent veins making you feel a maddening little thump thump thump as he roams for that one-

“Ah! Hngh- Toji!”

Found it.

And Toji had everything he needed - you, his wife, spread so sinfully and stuffed to the brim with him. Hitting your sweet spot over and over-

“No loser’s gonna fuck you like this.” he breathes against your ear. “Have you ngh- feeling this good.”

“I- ngh- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” you let out, hips mindlessly bucking down in a pathetic attempt to meet his rough thrusts. “S’too- hah- oh my god. S’too good-”

“Shut up.” Oh he sounds so absolutely wrecked. Sanity crumbling away bit by bit every time he’s plunging his cock - so painfully hard - into your wet pussy. “Do you even ah- realize how sexy you look right now?” Toji throws his head back, eyes still locked on you like it killed him to look away. “Never lettin’ anyone else s-see ya like this. They’re gonna look at you and see me-”

You don’t even know what he’s babbling about anymore. Just that his achingly hard cock was making such a mess of you, pulling back only to go deeper. Massaging all the right spots as fucked you harder into the couch.

“Me-” he gasps. “That date is gonna fuck- know,” Hips stuttering and absolutely filthy, “That cashier d-down the ngh- street that eyes you up every time is gonna know-” Angry. Desperate. So, so needy. “Your fucking lawyer- ngh- s’gonna know. They’ll s-see you and see me me me me-”

At this point you can only nod deliriously, letting out a broken little, “Hngh- yeah, wan’ that, Toji. Wan’ you so bad.”

Toji presses another chaste kiss - this time to your forehead. Whispering a quiet, “Then cum f’me, doll.”

You do - the hardest you ever think you ever have in your entire life. Thighs shaking, vision spotty, sparks of white-hot electricity going all the way from your hazy brain to where Toji was fucking you through it.

Muffling your moans with his mouth as he gives one, harsh thrust. Then spilling into your gummy walls, painting it all an obscene white with rope after rope of hot cum.

So wet and hot - with him. All him.

And you look so cute taking it all like the good little wife that you are, that he can’t help but press down on your lower stomach. Awe-struck at how your cunt gushes around him, coating his twitching cock as Toji fucks his seed deeper and deeper into you.

But, hell, that wasn’t his favorite part - not by a long shot. Instead, it was probably when you pulled him into his arms, whispering sweet little nonsense in his ear about “how you missed this” and “that date wasn’t real anyway” as he fucks the two of you through your highs. Sweet. Familiar.

“Oh, God-” he mutters into the crook of your neck, slightly calmer now. Much more clear-minded than the two of you were mere seconds before. “We broke the couch.”

And it was true - one side was sagging much more than the other. Though you can only let out a giggle in response. Doesn’t matter, the two of you’ll pick out a new one tomorrow - he always hated this new one, anyway. “Happy anniversary, wifey.”

---

“Damn kid, that ol’ dad of yours sure is running late.” Shiu crosses and uncrosses his legs with slight nervousness. Eyeing the small, dark-haired boy playing with blocks a few feet away, “Maybe we should-”

“It’s okay. He’ll be back.” Megumi deadpans, sounding like the absolute last thing on his mind was why his dad was taking way too long for what should’ve been a half an hour errand. Shiu - on the other hand - had his mind whirling with imaginations of traffic accidents or murders or- what if the two of you killed each other- “And he’ll bring back mama too.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. The older man stared wide-eyed at a slightly-smiling Megumi. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait- no, what did you-”

“Nothing.”

Because, hey, Megumi might’ve had to go without his favorite wolf plushie for a bit - but a magician never reveals his tricks, right?

A/N. So how does it feel to be played by a kid, hm?

Plagiarism not authorized.

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