#GETTING OVERPOWERED BY A CHILD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loveindefinitely · 9 months ago

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task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

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inwinterhell · 1 month ago

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As a female athlete myself, I just want to quickly appreciate how George R.R Martin writes his women who fight. It’s never, “she wanted to be a warrior so she worked harder than everyone and eventually she could beat all the boys.” He actually gives his characters strengths and weaknesses—as well as cultural ties to fighting— and he makes these traits enhance the already existing plot lines these characters follow. The mental game is also always just as important, if not more, than the physical game, which I’ve found is true in sports and probably much more true in actual life-threatening situations.

Arya is a small child. She’s nine, she’s skinny; she would probably never excel at being a knight, so instead she learns a different type of fighting. She’ll never overpower anyone, but she can be quick and sneaky and use her left hand which most people don’t know how to fight against. Also, I would argue that Syrio’s teachings about “looking with your eyes” were far more important to her than the physical part of water dancing. Most of the time she isn’t using her skills to directly fight people, but to run away, to spy on people, to catch food and survive. Syrio is her friend, Needle is Jon Snow’s smile, etc. Arya learning how to use her stature to her advantage is part of a greater connection to her identity and the people who helped her.

Brienne is stronger than most men, but she faces constant misogyny because of that (which is all too realistic). She constantly faces internal battles with her own self-image and harassment wherever she goes. She gets taught to use men’s pride and anger to her advantage:

“Old Ser Goodwin was long in his grave, yet she could hear him whispering in her ear. Men will always underestimate you, he said, and their pride will make them want to vanquish you quickly, lest it be said that a woman tried them sorely. Let them spend their strength in furious attacks, whilst you conserve your own. Wait and watch, girl, wait and watch (AFFC Brienne 7)”

Finally, “no chance, and no choice” is her most memorable line for a reason. It’s not her martial prowess that makes her a great character; it’s her bravery and honor.

Cultural ties are also so important to the reasons many women in the series fight. Asha is Balon’s last remaining child when all her brothers are dead and gone. Of course she knows how to fight and sail. Her tension with Theon is less about her showing off and more about her proving how much she actually knows her people while he doesn’t (of course that isn’t Theon’s fault but that’s a whole other post). The Mormont women learned to fight because they historically had to fight off invaders; the Sand snakes’ skills show their connection to Oberyn, etc.

Anyway I just love how George uses fighting to enhance his characters’ personalities and not define them. None of them are physically or mentally infallible, and none are exempt from misogyny. They just learned to do something that empowers and protects them despite society’s expectations. George’s writing of women is definitely not perfect, but this is something I really appreciate.

#reading about Syrio and Arya brought this whole ramble back to me #arya stark #brienne of tarth #asha greyjoy #the mormont girls #the sand snakes #lyanna stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls

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acid-ixx · 2 months ago

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brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.

#🌷... yael's works #🧁... yael's misc.#series: again & again #concept: brutus #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere angst #platonic yandere #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n

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sttoru · 5 months ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. trying to get your cold boyfriend to crack a smile !

tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, suggestive at the end. reader gets called ‘girl, doll (face)’

“you should smile some more,” you comment unexpectedly as the television runs in the background. toji raises an eyebrow, amused yet curious at the way you interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

your sluggish lover looks down at you as you sit up on his lap. his arms loosen up around your waist, though his manly hands don’t leave their favorite spot—your ass. toji gives it a squeeze, huffing at the way you’re blocking his sight with your head, “what ‘re ya on, girl?”

he figures it’s just you trying to strike up a silly little conversation again, for the sake of entertainment. he tilts his head to the side so he could continue watching the show playing on the big screen.

your hands come to cup his face. your palms are actively being prickled by his stubble, the man not having bothered to shave this morning. not that you’re complaining. you love it when toji leaves that stubble on his face. it gives him a more manly look.

“smileeeee,” you exclaim and use both your index fingers to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. his lips are morphed into an awkward, forced smile that makes you frown.

you secretly hoped that toji would go along with your request, but he doesn’t. that same expressionless face stares right back at you. his ‘smile’ instantly disappears the moment you drop your hands to your sides.

the black-haired man runs his fingers up your waist. and arms. he eventually pinches your cheeks for a second, properly positioning your body so he could watch the television in peace. toji places his chin on your shoulder, half lidded eyes lazily following the people on screen.

“i wanna see you smile again, c’mon,” you whine and try to push toji’s head back, but he stubbornly refuses. he easily overpowers you and pins your wrists down against your sides, nearly crushing you in a ‘hug’.

he takes a deep breath and sniffs your perfume. he places a quick kiss on your throat, thinking it’d pacify you for now.

“i would if y’ could make me laugh, doll,” toji answers in a gruff voice. he falls silent again as he’s too focused on the show playing.

you frown at his comment and can’t help but feel slightly offended. you roll your eyes and push back from toji’s tight embrace, if that’s what you can even call it. you pout and cross your arms over your chest. you stare at him, his green eyes glancing back at you for a second.

seeing you get all sulky because of what’s supposed to have been a lighthearted comment, is adorable. though toji doesn’t say that stuff out loud.

“you’re saying i’m not funny?” you ask. it’s more of a rhetorical question. your partner shrugs and yawns, one hand of his sneakily slipping under your shirt. his meaty fingers glide up to your bra, tracing the outline.

it’s another action of his in attempt to distract your mind from this entire conversation. however, it fails as you swat his hand away. toji clicks his tongue and gently swats you back— resulting into a mini fight between the two of you.

your slaps against his biceps may seem hard to you, but to the bulky man they’re child’s play. it feels like nothing, while you’re trying your best to stand up for yourself. toji’s revenge smacks are light taps against your bum and hands.

he’s clearly not putting in any effort unlike you.

“if that’s how you wanna take it, then yeah, y’ ain’t funny,” toji adds fuel to the fire, amused by how upset you’re getting. he doesn’t mean anything he’s saying; he’s simply interested in your adorable reactions. you look cute—thinking you’re doing something to him while you slap his bicep as response to his sneaky remarks.

you huff and roll your eyes. the little unserious tussle between toji and you continues. “bastard,” you answer and stick your tongue out to him. your lover lets out a puff of air through his nose at your weak attempt of insulting him.

he indulges you again.

“what’ddya say there?” toji questions in a low tone. he easily grips your wrists and flips you over until your back hits the soft sofa. your hands are gathered above your head and his face is close to yours.

that doesn’t stop you from being bratty, however, no matter how intimating toji tries to act. his black bangs brush against your forehead due to the proximity between you both.

“bastaaaaaard, you’re an asshole,” you shamelessly continue, your voice echoing in his ear. the black-haired man stares at you with a blank stare for a couple seconds, letting you blow off some steam.

you don’t know how cute you are right now to him. toji could just eat you up right then and there. having his girl try to act fierce around him is such an endearing sight.

without knowing it, toji’s scarred lips curl up, a faint smile appearing on his face. he doesn’t bother moving or setting your hands free.

“heh, right—i am, aye?” your lover nods and places a chaste kiss against your jawline, biting that same place not a second later. he lifts his head up and stares down at you with that same subtle smile.

you’re a bit shocked by the fact that he actually smiled. you love seeing toji show hints of happiness, which he rarely does. but when he smiles, you know it’s going to be a beautiful sight.

and it sure is now.

you’re too caught up staring at his handsome face to realise that that cherished smile has turned into a teasing grin. toji’s free hand slides up to grab your bottom lip, pulling back and letting go to watch it bounce back in place. his warm breath gently hits your cheek and you feel a shiver run down your spine;

“y’know if y’ want to, i can show ya how much of an asshole i really can be, doll face.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk fluff #toji fluff

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celestiamour · 9 days ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ where he finds home ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you and your daughter have managed to fall into a comfortable pattern of life with logan by your sides, but your ex shows up one night to stir up some trouble and the wolverine isn’t having any of it┊2.9k words; prt one, prt two (here), prt three (coming soon)

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: hurt/comfort? mostly fluff, ooc logan probably, single mother reader with an unspecified age but still younger than logan, this chapter is mostly in your perspective, asshole exes, rushed ending what, but love confessions & getting together isn’t that cute

�� author's note: alright, part two of the single mom! reader & her daughter!! the amount of support i’ve had on this was overwhelming, so sorry that this chapter isn’t on par with the first one, hopefully the next one will be better!

ever since that night, logan found himself rarely going a single day without interacting with you or your daughter. he can’t explain the force that seems to pull him towards the two of you, but he can easily realize that the sheer magnitude of it overpowered the little voice in the back of his head spewing pessimistic comments about how this couldn’t possibly end well just like everything else in his life did. his little made-up rule not to get attached is thrown out the window every time he sees either of you, reminding him that one simply cannot fight against the impossible no matter how much of a hardened killing machine he used to be. how could he try to avoid these feelings when they seemed to fill the hole in his heart until it was bursting at the seams with affection as if it was as easy as the apple pie you sometimes baked to share?

besides, even if he tried to hide this rapidly growing fondness, it’s not like anyone would have let him: not when wade keeps on offering to babysit while you’re at work, not when your baby has picked up the habit of running up to him to ask for hugs or to be picked up, not when you’re a sight for sore eyes as you follow up in the evening in your formal attire and pearls to pick her up, and especially not when althea keeps asking you when you two are getting married with the claim that she doesn’t need sight to see the chemistry happening at the dinner table.

you’ll laugh and brush it off as the old lady watching too many romance films in her free time, but your cheeks are secretly burning in embarrassment at how literally everyone can tell that you’re crushing like a high schooler in your grown age except for the subject of your fancy.

logan himself is pretty difficult to read, but thankfully, his roommates are open-book, blunt to a fault, and willing to tell you anything and everything you need to know whether or not you even asked. for example, they confirmed he did indeed have a soft spot for you and your daughter, one that made them howl with laughter as they bully him relentlessly for it (feel free to tell them that they shouldn’t because he’s just being nice, they aren’t going to listen to you). he tries his best to refrain from swearing within earshot, not even under his breath on the off-chance she will hear it and pick it up. he fixes his appearance whenever he knows he’ll see you in an attempt to look more approachable. he never cares to listen to the ongoing conversations about other friends, but he’ll lean in a little closer if it’s about you. he even buys toys or stuffed animals on occasion because he thinks of her when he sees them.

you probably shouldn’t be thinking about these things during such a busy moment of your life when you’re focused on raising your daughter, getting that job promotion in the bag, and finally agreeing to take your ex to court for him to take responsibility by paying child support. although he’s as kind as a man who is as gruff and rugged as he can be, he’s still an older man (both chronologically and biologically) who is a mutant superhero with powers you were still unaware of. it’s not you questioning if he’s safe to be around, it’s you questioning if it’s in his best interest to have a family with all that going on (especially if he wanted to play father to a toddler who had no blood relation to him. playing uncle is one thing, but father? you can never be sure).

still, you would be lying if you said that seeing him being so tender and sweet with your daughter didn’t stir up a domestic image in your mind. a girl could only dream, right?

recently, he’s been showing up at your doorstep with a toolbox in hand every other day. you’ve been complaining lately about how nothing under your roof seems to work anymore and every time you inform the landlord, you get a half-assed job that falls apart within the span of a week: the pipes are leaking, the windows refuse to open, the gas stove won’t start, and there are also other things you never got around to fixing yourself like a wobbly desk or putting together a little bed for your baby since she’s outgrown her crib.

the conversations usually go a little something like:

“oh, you really don’t need to—”

“no, no, i insist— it’s not like i have anything better to do, and i’ll do a much better job than whatever the fuck those maintenance men have been doing anyways.” he’ll purse his lips at the unintentional curse word which slipped and then push past you. “anyway, which windows have been giving you trouble?”

it takes him an hour maximum to work his magic, always leaving behind something fully functional and stable enough to last for years. you’ll compliment his handy skills and try to push a wad of cash into his hands, but he refuses it every single time. you can’t match his stubborn personality for more than a few minutes, so you’ll sigh and offer him to stay for dinner instead because you refuse to let him go home empty-handed after helping you out so generously.

while you’re busy rummaging through your pantry and fridge for ingredients to cook something of varying degrees of complexity each time, your daughter will make an appearance to keep logan occupied because you refuse to allow anyone to enter your kitchen ever since that incident with wade. yes, he is more careful and mature, no, you’re not taking any chances.

tonight, she’s playing forcing him to play with an assortment of dolls. he’s never done this before, and it looks so awkward to see a grown-ass six-foot-two man holding a little blonde barbie limply in his hand without any idea what the setting is or the storyline or the characters supposed to be played, but your girl was smiling and cheerfully babbling something barely legible every time he played along so he wasn’t about to complain about it.

you hummed a tune while slicing thin slices of beef, completely on autopilot and enjoying the night of peace. the doorbell suddenly rang throughout your apartment and you rushed to wash off your hands before wiping them off with a dishrag, assuming it was one of his roommates. who else could the unannounced visitor be at eight-thirty in the evening?

the smile on your face immediately dropped when you saw the unusually unkempt appearance of your ex-fiancé, reeking of booze with his hair sticking out a little past his ears and rough stubble lining his jaw. before you could even say something, he rudely pushed past you and stood in the center of the unfamiliar space. maybe it was for the best since he definitely would have caused a massive commotion in the hallway and disturbed the neighbors who didn’t need to be subjected to your personal issues. your daughter had fallen silent and stared at him in a mix of confusion and something else that was unreadable yet clearly not joyous in any way.

the entire world seemed to stop for a moment as you held your breath in anticipation of his next move, wondering if he was going to be amiable or (more likely) stir some trouble to disturb the peace. your eyes met with logan’s and you shifted your gaze to the hallway entrance for a split second to signal him to bring your daughter into her bedroom, sparing her the scare that would come when her father would inevitably lash out.

he understood immediately and picked her up in a single swift motion, “come on, bub, it’s time to go to bed.” his hand rested her head on his shoulder and she appeared to be okay, just wide-eyed with her thumb in her mouth, almost as if she could recognize the gravity of the situation despite barely being able to comprehend such things.

“it’s only been a few months, and you’re already living with another man…:

“it’s actually almost been a year, but what are you even doing here? i thought you had a wedding to plan.”

“... wedding’s been canceled…”

“aw, really?” you could already tell where this was going. althea told you plenty of times that once he saw how much better you were doing without him while his life quickly tumbles down a slope, he would come crawling back. she made you promise on your life that you wouldn’t take him back no matter what, whether he begged on his knees promising he’ll be better or revealed he was the new ceo of amazon with riches beyond your imagination. you didn’t quite understand her concerns because the thought of it never crossed your mind once, but she just tutted and reminded you that love was unpredictable before revoking her statement when she remembered you wouldn’t get back together with your ex when the wolverine was on the table.

“she was seeing someone else…”

“well, well, well, you know what they say, ‘karma’s a bitch.’ it’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine, you cheating bastard.”

he took a step towards you and you flinched in response, making the other man standing in the shadows straighten his posture. he was never physically abusive, but you had no idea how he would behave under the influence. “you know she was the reason everything fell apart…”

“oh, don’t try to pin the blame on her when you were the one who was about to get married and you were the one who made the choice to abandon her family. good on her for leaving, and you should do the same.”

“do you ever think there would be anyone who would love you like i did? i was your first, and there isn’t anyone else who would take you as is. hell, i don’t even think the other guy will be around for much longer—”

“alright, i’ve had enough of this.” logan came forward from his spot in the shadows, getting closer to your ex until he was clearly intimidated by his looming figure and threatening aura. it’s the first time you’ve seen such a dangerous edge to him, yet strangely enough, you still felt safe knowing he was acting in your defense (if it was any other man, you probably would have kicked them both out before it could escalate). “get out of here.”

“can’t believe this,” he spat, turning his head to look back at you, “you bitch—”

he grunted at the insult, feeling more pissed off about it being directed at you rather than him, promptly throwing a punch into his face and gripping onto his collar before he could stumble over. an unfamiliar *schlikt* sound was heard before your eyes managed to process the long metal claws mere inches away from gouging out your ex’s eyes, making you gasp quietly in shock.

“okay! okay! i’m leaving!”

“i’ll escort you out,” he growled, still not letting go of him as he shoved him out of the door and closed it behind him, wanting to make sure that he would never come to bother you like this ever again and also drag him to apartment security to ensure they understood not to let him in ever again.

then once he was gone, logan stood outside in the slight cold for a moment wondering what to do next. he just revealed his true nature to you that he’s been trying so hard to suppress: violent and animalistic. he should just prepare to hear you say that you are now scared of him, that you would prefer it if he didn’t come over anymore and to stay away from you and your daughter.

the worst part is that he can’t even blame you, and a part of him feels like this was for the best. he was stupid to hope for a peaceful domestic with two human civilians when he was a mutant through and through. still, his heart drops at the thought of your eyes looking at him with fear rather than the usual caring, gentle look that made him forget all of his pain.

there was more impending doom weighing on him as he stalked up the stairs than there ever was for certain death missions.

his hyper-sensitive hearing easily picked up the sound of a baby crying, one that he immediately recognized as your daughter’s. he slowed his pace to hear you trying desperately to calm her down.

“oh, oh, shh, i know, i know,” you sighed, “god, logan, please hurry back…” he practically ran when he heard that, bursting through the door and rushing into the nursery which was in the process of being turned into a proper bedroom. there were slight tears pricking at your eyes when you looked at him, “sorry, can you put her to sleep? s-she won’t stop crying…”

“it’s okay, it’s okay, i got it,” he assured, taking her off your hands and soothingly patting her on the back, “please stop crying, you’re breaking your momma’s heart.”

after a minute or so, her high-pitched wails gradually quieted down, falling asleep in his strong arms and allowing him to place her in her little bed which was newly constructed by him just a few days ago. you led him out of the room, being careful not to make any sudden noises so as to not wake her again, and returned to the living room where it all started.

“i’m sorry you had to do all that,” you groaned, placing a palm on your forehead in a poor attempt to ease the forming headache. “i really don’t know what i would have done without you…”

“don’t apologize, i’m happy to help… but i completely understand if you don’t want to see me ever again…” he wasn’t sure why he brought it up when you didn’t even say anything about it, but perhaps he wanted to get the inevitable over with because this conversation would have happened sooner or later.

“what? why would i never want to see you again when you just saved me from my ex?” you asked, genuinely confused as you moved to pour out two glasses of wine and plopped down onto the couch with your head thrown back. “is it because of the claws? i don’t really care about that stuff— i mean wade runs around with at least one knife and gun on him at all times. besides, it’s not like you can’t control them, they only came out because you were trying to protect me…”

“well, yes, but—”

“logan, i really don’t care that you’re a mutant or a former killer or whatever— you’re a superhero who runs around in yellow spandex, fights evil, and is the only one who can get my daughter to sleep most of the time— i trust you.”

“... you do?”

“of course, i do,” you reach out and motion him to join you, leaning against his frame and feeling all of your stress dissipate at the contact. “i trust you with my life and you’ll always have a home here, i want you to know that..”

logan was silent for a moment, trying to remember the last time he heard words along those lines. “i don’t know if you mean that…”

“of course, i do, why wouldn’t i? although…”

“although?”

“i… i don’t think i could handle being just friends for much longer.” you cringed at your own words, sounding like a fucking teenager who was confessing to her first love. something straight out of a cheesy romance movie, or as deadpool would say, straight out of a fanfiction written by a lonely teenager who is trying to move the plot along and finish up. “god, that was so stupid—”

“well, no one said we had to be ‘just friends.’”

you looked at him ludicrously, “really? do you mean that?”

“i mean… if you’re okay with an old man who has adamantium claws in his knuckles…”

“are you okay with a lady who’s a single mom?”

“i think mine is a lot worse than that. sweetheart,” he chuckled, returning to the light-hearted tone. “so… does that mean i can kiss you?”

you hummed, “of course, you can.”

even with your spoken consent, he still seemed a little hesitant when his hand found its way to the back of your head and he stared deeply into your eyes. his gaze was honestly a bit overwhelming since you’ve never seen anyone else look at you that way before, making you wonder if this was how to felt to be truly desired as a person.

you leaned forward to finish the kiss for him, a quick peck at first, then a deeper one that carried all of the bottled-up feelings from the previous few months. it wasn’t anything too crazy, yet it felt like your very first kiss all over again, clumsy and inexperienced. when you finally separated from him, you pressed your nose against his and giggled, “spend the night?”

“i thought you would never ask.”

tag list: @natsukitakama @fandomxo00 @wolflover-20 @dannsparrow @honestlysublimecherryblossom @acescutejeans-1247 @burkayyy @hotmesshobbit

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #x men #x men x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

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poguehearted77 · 14 days ago

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After Hours

summary: Rafe lets his jealousy get the best of him and it pisses you off, but he makes it up to you after hours.

"Y/n, he's doing it again" Carly whispers over your shoulder as you work on drying off the bar glasses and putting them back on the shelf. You sigh on the outside but your insides warm at the thought of Rafe staring at the back of your figure. This is how it always goes.

He always wants to see you, claiming he can't get enough while you pull away, dedicated to your job. So Rafe decides why not kill two birds with one stone and come see you at work.

Unfortunately, wherever Rafe goes, his posse follows, and considering they're notorious party animals, they can't seem to hold their liquor. "Hey, Let's get another round goin' over here!" Topper shouts, words slurred and eyes heavy-lidded. Anyone within a mile radius could hear the cheers that came from their table at the announcement, and it made you dread going over there, but it's your job.

Not that you hated where you worked, it was right in the heart of figure eight, not too far from where you lived and it pays well most days, but drunk kooks pay even better.

As you walked over with a tray of shots, their hollers grew louder in volume and the environment made you nervous. Not because of the noise at their table, but because of the silence that Rafe held as you placed everything down.

His quiet, blue gaze lingered over your curves as you smiled at the boys. "Wow, you're just too pretty to be working at this hour. How about you pull up a chair and join us?" Topper's hand gently holds your upper arm and Rafe finally speaks up.

Prompted by a flare of jealousy, "Get your hands off her, Top." Rafe's voice overpowers the table to a still silence that even startled you. Topper immediately moves his hand as Kelce 'Oohs'. "Shit man, my bad." He apologizes. Rafe sends you an apologetic glance that you ignore before hastily collecting your tray and returning to the bar.

But it was too late. You were already upset.

The bar had just let out its last customer and you worked on wiping down the tables, most of the lights off and the blinds shut. Some street lights managed to seep through the cracks in the shutters which left golden shadows on the black marble countertops.

It takes a knock on the door to finally pull your head up from the task on hand where you are locking eyes with Rafe on the other side of the glass. You stepped towards the door, not unlocking it.

Your arms crossed and your expression conveyed what he already knew. "Open the door." Voice muffled but you still hear him loud and clear, you huff, knowing he would break the door down if he needed to. You opened it.

"You know I'm not a fucking child, right Rafe?" You sneer, and he locks the door behind him. "I know that. I just hate seeing other guys hit on you. It does things to me- shit makes me just wanna-" his expression contorts, unable to describe the emotion.

"I know, but you gotta trust me. You think I like when that bitch Holly from the yacht club has her hands on you? No, but I trust you." You throw the cloth down on the bar.

Watching as Rafe rounded the island to be on your side, finger under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. His stone-cold blue eyes run warm as he grins down at you, "I don't give a fuck what Holly does, cuz at the end of the day all I'm thinkin' bout is you."

He leans down, his breath ghosting over your lips. Just barely giving you a taste of what you so desperately need. "I still don't forgive you." You quip, hardly able to step away before his big hand is wrapped around your neck, a light pressure applied, a warning.

"You think I'm lying? I'll show you who the fuck this dick belongs to. How about that, yeah?"

In a blur of heated kisses and hot touches, your clothes were scattered across the floor and your bra had landed somewhere on the rack, forgotten as Rafe fucked you mindless over the counter.

His thick cock pummeling in and out of your soaked cunt. He grabs a fistful of your dark curls, pulling you up so your back can meet his chest. "Now tell me, baby. Who does this pussy belong to, huh?" He hisses through clenched teeth, overwhelmed by the tight grip your walls provided him.

"M-me." You moan pathetically and it makes him laugh. He lets you go, and your upper half falls back onto the counter unceremoniously. He pulled out slowly, all the way until only the tip remained buried. "Try again."

He plummets back inside your core, his tip kissing your cervix and you scream, eyes filling with tears as you blabber, begging him not to stop. "Let's try that again, yeah? Who does this pussy belong to."

"You! You-- fuck! It's yours, all yours. No one else's."

He grins, he already knew this, of course. He just liked hearing you say it.

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jinwoosbabyboo · 13 days ago

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The School is Calling

You got a call about your kid(s) fighting at school ... this can't be good .... or is it? [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

Principal: Your child got into a fight during lunch

MC: who started the fight?

Principal: That's not important the important thing is your daughter brutally beat up another child

Zayne: What was the fight about?

Principal: Another child took her fruit cup

MC: Is this the same kid who put slime in her hair two days ago?

Principal: Yes but-

Zayne: Is this the same kid who's been taking her notebooks for the last two weeks

Principal: well you see-

Zayne: This sounds like a case of bullying and it seems as though you and your staff have done little to discipline a student who has been bullying our daughter

Principal: I assure you we have a strict no bullying poli-

Zayne: It's not strict enough.

The principals lips snap shut.

Zayne: Now violence is not the answer, but this sounds like a case of self-defense you along with your staff need to handle the bullying problem you have in this school

Principal: ....

Zayne: Are we done here?

Principal: Yes we're done here sir sorry to bother you two

MC: Don't be sorry be better

Rafayel

Principal: Your children got into a fight during recess

Rafayel: Damn *turns to his kids* did you two win?

Your children rapidly nod with big smiles on their faces.

Rafayel: Hell yea! up top!

Principal: Sir this is not a good thing

Rafayel: Did they start it?

Principal: Well no

Rafayel: So they finished it?

Principal: Sir

Rafayel: Good talk ... tell your students to leave my kids alone now if we're done here im taking them to get ice cream

Rafayel walks outside with the twins in tow and finds you leaning against the hood of the car.

MC: So?

Rafayel: They didn't start it they finished it and they won

MC: That's what I like to hear ... Ice cream?

Rafayel & the twins: ICE CREAM !

Xavier

Principal: Your child got into a fight during P.E.

MC: Who started it?

Principal: That's not important here

Xavier: Answer the question.

Principal: ........The other kid shoved your child into the wall

Xavier: Which explains the bruise on his elbow

Principal: Your child then proceeded to punch the other kid in the mouth knocking his tooth out

Xavier: Sounds like self defense

Principal: Your son busted that kids lip sir

MC: Maybe that kid should've kept his hands off our son

Principal: We can't have your son fighting it goes against everything we stand for

Xavier: My son has told you and your staff multiple times this kid was being mean to him and you've done nothing

Principal: We've done everything we can

Xavier: No you haven't you let it slide until he stood up for himself and showed that kid that his actions have consequences we're done here

Sylus

MC: I just got a call from the school, but I won't be able to make it up there in time Sylus: I'll go I'm not busy MC: Okay let me know how it goes

Principal: Im sorry to inform you that we're going to have to suspend your daughter

Sylus: Why.

Principal: She tied up a student and stuffed him in a locker

Sylus: Why.

Principal:*mumbling* He .... He ripped one of her braids out

Sylus: Speak up.

Principal: Another student pulled her hair and removed a braid by accident

Sylus: If I do recall my daughter has reported this kid pulling her hair multiple times

Principal: Yes but we can't have her fighting

Sylus: She didn't fight .... she overpowered him and showed their difference in strength

Principal: but-

Sylus: You're lucky she doesn't like picking on the weak ... don't bother me or her mother with these trivial matters again ... lets go little dove

MC: How did it go? Sylus: Just a friendly chat nothing serious MC: What did she do? Sylus: Made me proud

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads sylus #lnds #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lnds xavier #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

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stsgluver · 1 year ago

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synopsis. your husband still ignores the side effects of his cursed technique just so he can get a glimpse of you.

wc. 1.2k

gojo satoru was born with six eyes — a special cursed technique that allowed for an extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, down to an atomic level. it also blessed him with a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes that were practically glowing. you’d never seen eyes so pretty.

the drawback to this gift? the skull-splitting migraines that came with the excessive information constantly being processed by his darting eyes.

as a child, the pain was manageable. gojo didn’t have much of a hold on the technique so his weaker state meant that the migraines were subdued as less information was being absorbed. however, as he grew older and more powerful, he would find himself bed ridden for at least twenty four hours if he did not take some sort of measure to protect his eyes.

his go to method was the sunglasses, almost 100% tinted — no other person would be able to clearly see out of them, if they could see anything at all. his sight, on the other hand, so impressive that he could distinguish people and the objects around them through the levels of cursed energy radiated.

still, accidents happened. whether it be him breaking his glasses, or forgetting them as young children do, he quickly learned the drawbacks to his technique. no normal medicine could relieve the pain and no sorcerer was strong enough to either.

gojo satoru met you at fifteen years old on his first day at tokyo jujutsu high. you wore a uniform similar to shoko's but your skirt was closer to the floor than it was to your thigh. your hair was longer than most female sorcerers and tied into a plait that hung against your back. in all honesty, you appeared quite plain to him. nothing particularly stood out. not even your cursed energy was particularly strong.

but you were gorgeous. completely and utterly gorgeous. his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he analysed you from afar and it wasn't till a slap on the shoulder from geto that he snapped out of it.

within six months of knowing one another, the two of you were dating. you picked up on his habit to forgo his glasses around you pretty quickly and you definitely didn't miss the increasing amount of discomfort that would cause him.

"why do you do that?" you asked him one time.

the two of you were on a date in the park. a picnic blanket had been laid out and satoru had bought basically every single pastry and sweet at the bakery next to the park. you'd barely managed to make it through half till the both of you had given up and opted for cloud watching, giggling as he joked that one cloud in particularly looked very similar to nanami's 'emo' haircut.

satoru turned to his side to look at you questioningly, his head resting on his hand, "do what?"

"take off your glasses," you gestured to the folded pair of black glasses by his head. "i don't have to be a doctor to realise that you're in a lot of pain right now." the longer you lay there, the less satoru was actually looking up at the sky, instead just listening to you as you pointed out shapes and animals.

you knew the toll six eyes could take on his body.

he kept his eyes screwed shut when he wasn't looking at you to ease the the pain from the intense light that was too overpowering for his splitting headache. he winced when a kid screamed too loudly or ran too close and his fingers would push against the sides of his head frustratedly. as if he thought hard enough, the pain would just go away.

his lips tilted up into a lopsided grin, "but i see you."

you twisted so that your body was parallel to his. there was a faint blush on your cheeks now but you didn't look away from his eyes. how could you? "you always see me."

"not with those stupid glasses," satoru frowned, and you think it was the most serious you had seen him since you met. "seeing you and seeing your energy are two very different things."

"you're hurting yourself," you pointed out, placing one of your hands onto his cheek to gently stroke your thumb against his skin. his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leant into your touch like it was magic. like you were some drug that numbed the pain, replacing it with a special serotonin only you could give him.

"worth it." satoru kissed your palm.

that was his only response. worth it. and he stuck to it even a decade later.

"old habits die hard, i guess," satoru tried to laugh at his poorly made joke, but only a few shakey breaths came out. you'd been home thirty minutes and he'd already been sick twice. he'd curled himself up in your shared bed not long after the second time and that was where he was when you began scolding him for his carelessness.

"you are twenty eight," you rant exasperatedly, juxtaposing your voice that is no louder than a gentle whisper, "you have three first years to be looking after right now, but no, someone wanted to go out for dinner and someone didn't want to wear their glasses, and someone-"

satoru's much larger hand squeezed yours, "don't be cruel. i do this for you, my love." his blindfold was now on (you had made him put it on as soon as you had gotten home) but you know him well enough to know he was staring up at you with those lovesick eyes that made you weak at the knees.

"i just worry," your tone eased. you had no issue looking after your husband, you never had. it wasn't his fault that he got the migraines per se. yes, he could definitely be doing more to mitigate the severity, but he was stubborn. that had never changed. "i've seen you fight special grades. i hate seeing a stupid headache hurt you so much."

"lay with me."

"you're sweaty and sick." you scrunched up your nose, eyes flicking to the en suite you'd just cleaned and back to the cold flannel on his forehead as his body temperature fluctuated.

he shook his head, placing his index finger over his lips. "shhh, i'm passed that stage. pretty please? i need you."

gojo satoru was irresponsible at the best of times. he'd been raised to believe he was invincible and had been spoiled to always get what he had wanted. there was no telling him what to do when he'd already decided an hour ago exactly what he wanted to do.

but there was something about being needed by gojo satoru. you could never say no to him. so whether it be due to his own decision to stare into the eyes of his wife during a romantic night out, or an extensive fight against a cursed spirit, you would always be there to clean up and make sure he was wrapped up in bed all cosy.

and you would always lift up the covers and climb in once there was no more that you could do but simply act as a pillow for your husband as he tried to sleep off the throbbing pain.

a/n. um so my previous post on this topic blew up and i’m so so grateful so i thought i’d expand a little on this hc for anyone that was interested. rambled a bit towards the end but i hope you still like it!! love you lots xxx

#— toru!!#gojo drabbles #satoru #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo headcannons #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo jjk #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru drabbles

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