#i cannot properly function anymore

[wanderingaldecaldo]

I haven't blushed while writing smut in a long time. She really has turned my world upside down.

[finoccchio]

Need an adderall prescription asap

[asteronomer]

Love when having asthma means I actually have like, symptoms of asthma

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

gif by: @pedropcl

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: your thoughts are now consumed by joel. you cannot function properly without him nearby.

warnings: MINORS DNI. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], dumbification, toxic attachments, joel is SO fucking manipulative, aftercare (very late), cuddle fingeriinnggg, slow making out, finger sucking, pussy pronouns, joel "just the tip" miller, bare pussy grinding, spit as lube cause he's a nasty man, joel is also a scary man

wc: 6.7k

notes: my depraved baddies, we're getting closer and closer to the enddddd. also, virginity is a social construct. i understand that someone can still "lose their virginity" from fingering, BUT THIS IS FICTION. IGNORE IT. AND ENJOY IT. PLEASE. 🥺🥺🥺

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There has never been a time in your life when you felt truly alone. You always had your close group of friends, with whom you spent time nearly every other day, having a great time. You also had social media to keep you busy during times of boredom. Regretting not making the most of those two makes you feel foolish. That's all you'll ever be; a foolish little girl. Joel was right. You're nothing without him. You need him. You need his guidance to navigate the harsh realities of the world. Losing your only two means of escape is forcing you to face revelations you're not ready for. You're not prepared for adulthood, not just yet. At this moment, you feel utterly alone.

Minutes pass as you shuffle on your feet behind Joel, gazing at the back of his head while he sits at the kitchen table. He was considerate enough to leave your door unlocked, granting you the liberty to wander around the house, yet ensuring the front and back doors remained closed and locked. "Can't trust you going out alone anymore," he had said to you earlier today. His reasoning was fair. You had acted recklessly, and now you're facing the consequences. You don't hold Joel responsible. You never did blame him for his decisions. If only you had heeded his advice from the beginning. Be a good girl.

"Uh, Daddy?" You softly call out to him, your voice meek and quiet like a little mouse. Joel barely turns his head, motioning with his finger for you to come closer. With shaky steps, you stand between his spread legs.

Joel's gaze lifts to meet yours, his hair disheveled from constantly running his fingers through it. A sense of satisfaction swells in his chest as he notices your nervousness around him. You struggle to maintain eye contact and can't help but flinch whenever his hand moves abruptly.

"You should be getting down on your knees when you address Daddy, babydoll. It's the only polite thing to do, don't you think?" He tuts at you softly, raising his brows expectantly. He just realized that he hasn't provided his girl with a list of rules to follow. Considering your innocent and unaware nature, he thinks that assigning such a significant task might be too overwhelming for you to handle all at once.

With wide eyes, you scramble to your knees in front of him, your hands placed on the ground between your knees. The positioning accidentally causes the straps of your dress to slide down your shoulders, just barely exposing your chest to Joel's predatory eyes.

"Attagirl," he murmurs, the backs of his knuckles lovingly stroking your jaw, his thumb just barely pressing into one of the finger shaped bruises. "Now, what did you want to ask me, sweetheart?"

The intensity of Joel's gaze makes the question die on your lips. His fingers continue to stroke your jaw gently, their warmth coaxing you into a state of calm. The anxieties that once troubled you are fading away, leaving only the desire to please him, to heed his words, to fulfill his wishes. Joel. Joel. Joel.

He can see your eyes go unfocused the more he keeps his hand connected to your bruised skin. A sick smirk plays on his lips. Seeing you immediately submit to him so easily excites him. To have you down on your knees before him, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted. There's a part of him that wonders why he loves this, this power he holds. Joel is a depraved man, one that feeds into that sick monster hidden beneath him. He never acted this way with your mom. He never even spanks her, let alone gets her to submit in such a way that makes him feel like a god.

The second your body started developing into the womanly figure you have now is what had caught his attention early on. Maybe it's because you looked so much like her in her teenage years, or because you're just so fucking innocent and pure. Either way, his attraction for your mom had long since faded away, and you were the next best thing he wanted to take and destroy.

"Sweetheart," he calls out, gently shaking your shoulder to recapture your attention. "Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice, coupled with the gesture, brings you back to the moment.

With a frantic blink, you refocus your eyes on Joel. He nods, signaling for you to speak, the slight twitch in his jaw betraying his growing impatience. As you shuffle on your knees, your backside presses into the heel of your feet. You attempt to conceal your grimace, yet the intense pain swiftly radiates. Tears gather in your eyes as the burning sensation and fuzziness become overpowering.

Sniffling softly, you say, "I-I was just w-wondering if... if you can, um, make my behind feel a little better?" The question was shy, and you didn't even want to look at him, for you think he's going to reject you.

Joel's grin broadens at the sight of the soft, dejected expression on your face, and as your shoulders slump and your head hangs low, you brace for his scolding for having asked him to do such a task. You deserve to feel the pain of last night's punishment. You don't deserve Joel's gentle hands massaging the sore spots, kissing and whispering sweet praises in your ears. You weren't a good girl, and you don't blame him for not treating you as such.

His voice was so sweet and cooing. "Yeah? You want Daddy to make the pain go away?" His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, your little pink tip just barely poking out to rub across the pad.

The saltiness of his skin has your mouth salivating. You suck his thumb further between your lip, jerking your head to a weak nod as you hum affirmatively. Joel hums as well, only deep in thought as he weighs his options. He could keep on with his heinous punishments, forcing you to plead for him to stop--it's such a dangerous game to play. Alternatively, he might be kind today and pamper you, lavishing you with affection that you feel you don't deserve, which could further endear him to your impressionable mind. As he looks into your eyes and sees the way you're gazing up at him, his thumb firmly tucked between those lips and your silky little tongue swirling around the tip, he chooses the latter.

"Get your butt upstairs and lie on your tummy while Daddy grabs a few things, okay, babydoll?"

The soft breeze of your ceiling fan emitted a chill throughout your body, albeit a pleasant one. Goosebumps erupted on your skin, almost soothing the heat radiating from your bruised backside. Lying on your stomach, you wait patiently, straining your ears for any sign of Joel, but silence is all that meets you. The anticipation of his arrival has you swallowing hard against your pillow. It's as if he's moving quietly and slowly on purpose, prolonging the moment to heighten your sense of anticipation.

This was how he played his sick games. He was the cat, and you were the mouse. He loves being the predator and you, his prey. And for some obscene reason, you love it too.

A small creak at the doorway made you tense for a moment, but you relaxed upon seeing Joel standing there, his large frame filling the doorway. In his hands were two things: a white cloth rag of some kind and a bottle of lotion. You shiver delightfully, knowing that in just a few minutes he was going to be taking care of you in the way you needed.

"Ain't you a peach," he grins and steps inside, using his foot to fully shut the door, officially trapping the both of you inside. Joel's grin widens when he sees just how marked your backside is, the welts swollen and skin broken, large bruises that are all types of hues of blue and purple. "Hmm... Now, that's what I like to see."

You don't respond, opting to stay silent as you curiously observe him from over your shoulder. He pats your hip with the back of his hand, wordlessly telling you to scoot over. Once you do so, Joel unbuttons his shirt, completely removing the offending clothing from his body and tossing it aside. His chest and stomach were now fully exposed.

In the light, with a clear mind, you finally have the chance to take in every inch of Joel. His skin was so tan, it almost blended between caramel and bronze. Dots of hair speckled his chest, a mix of dark brown and gray. Then, there's hair around his belly button before it trails down to disappear under the waistband of his jeans, the hair getting darker and thicker. His skin is a canvas of freckles and old scars, each one a silent story that tempts your curiosity. Questions about their origins linger on the tip of your tongue, yet they remain unasked, perhaps to be explored if alone time with him arises once more.

"Your head is in the clouds again, babydoll," Joel teases, his voice holding a light-heartedness to it, immediately easing your nerves. At the sound of your quiet giggle that you muffle in your pillow, he gets comfortable between your thighs, gently coaxing them to spread wider to accommodate his large size. "There we go," he whispers under his breath.

The hot rag in his hand is gently laid over your backside, the fabric big enough to cover both cheeks. The sudden feeling made you flinch and whine unpleasantly, one foot gently kicking to try to distract you from the pain. Joel hushes you softly, one of his hands sweetly rubbing up and down the back of your thighs.

"Just relax, babydoll," his voice was so soft and comforting. "Let Daddy take care of your pretty self." He applies light pressure to the hot rag, further soothing the sensitive, enflamed skin. Another whisper comes from above, a little less pained and a lot more relieved. "That feel good, baby?"

You let out a drowsy hum as you succumb to the sensation. There was a liquid heat pooling all around your lower half as the pain from your backside gradually melts into a dull ache. Joel glances down between your thighs, your pussy lips spreading open, labia and clit on display for him to see. There's a shine covering your untouched hole. The pearly slick, slowly, slowly, slowly sliding out of your hole and trailing down to cover your clit. There's a small flutter as your pussy clenches, just briefly. An ache in Joel's jaw and his mouth salivating reminds him that now is not the time to act on his impulse. As much as he wants to bury his face between those thighs, he knows he has to make sure that you're going to be working properly before he has his fun again.

When the rag gets cold, he removes it from your backside. The cold air bites into your skin, the sudden shock taking you by surprise. The sensation of pin pricks across your exposed skin causes you to squirm. Joel is aware that it's painful once more. Your soft whimpers of discomfort prompt a quiet chuckle from him.

He grabs the bottle of lotions and squirts a generous amount into the palm of his hand. "Just a second, babydoll," he tells you softly, coaxing you to lay flat on your tummy again. You wait for a few seconds, and then you feel it.

There's a gooey warmth that covers both of your cheeks. It makes your eyes flutter shut. Then, Joel's hands start to massage your tender flesh, gently rubbing and smoothing out the aches. The pressure was so good, and the weight of his hands on your ass allowed your brain to slowly turn into mush.

He continues massaging your cheeks, even going as far as to "accidentally" swipe his thumb against your puckered hole. The action caused you to jolt and gasp, the sound of his laughter making your cheeks warm. When the ache was now dulled into a pleasant numbness, you stretched out your limbs like a little kitty in the sunlight, a soft hum vibrating into the pillow. You look over your shoulder and watch as Joel wipes his hands clean with the damp rag he had used. Seeing his bare chest has you biting down on your bottom lip.

"Uh... Daddy?" There was hesitation in the way you spoke. The idea occurred to you the second Joel had removed his shirt. The sight of your stepdad in your bedroom, clad in just his jeans, touching you in such a way was exciting. Warmth pooled in your stomach, a certain liquid heat that was hard to ignore.

Joel gazes at you with expectation, his eyebrows lifted as he catches the hesitant expression on your face. It seems like you're eager to ask him something, yet you're apprehensive about his reaction. Before this ambiguous relationship began, you'd always rush over to him, words spilling out rapidly to pose questions without a second thought. He was charmed by it. Your eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity, hanging on his every word, which he thought was incredibly cute. However, given his recent behavior, you've become more cautious about your inquiries, wanting to ensure they're significant.

"Can... Can we kiss, like how we did last time?"

The surprise on his face made you giggle. He wasn't expecting you to ask for something like that, let alone think of the naughty stuff he's already done with you at the beginning of the week. Joel clears his throat and trails his eyes over your nude backside, zeroing in on your bare pussy, almost screaming for him to touch and lick up. When he looks back up at you from where you lay against the pillow, your bottom lip tucked underneath your top teeth and your messy hair, he finds himself nodding.

When he props himself up against your pillows, you immediately clamber onto his chest, one leg resting between his legs while your other is propped up and slung over his hip. With your head resting comfortably on his shoulder, Joel rests one arm behind your back, curling it to cup your jaw from behind. Your heart is facing as you get close to his face. Eyes half-lidded and lips parted, you're the one that makes the first move.

When your lips meet, it's like stars bursting behind your eyelids. So soft, so inviting. Joel's lips are as addictive as an expensive drug. You crave their touch every second, every minute, every day.

His tongue enters your mouth and you're quick to eagerly suck it between your lips. He groans huskily and pulls his tongue away before messily kissing you. The hand that rests on your hip slowly trails down and around the back of your thigh before the tips of his fingers rest along your labia. Then, he starts rubbing up and down, further spreading the wetness that leaks out of your empty pussy. He touches everywhere. Your swollen clit, puffy labia, bare pussy lips, and your fluttering hole are left untouched.

You're nibbling on his bottom lip, eagerly shoving your tongue sloppily into his tongue. Joel groans at the taste of your mixed saliva. To have you in his arms like this, naked and so very vulnerable, it was driving him fucking insane. Your hips are shifting and bucking towards his hand, but each time his fingers rub deeper, he pulls them away. When he also pulls his lips from yours, you chase them with a desperate whimper.

"Patience, babydoll," he mutters, glancing down at the pleasure-drunk expression on your face. "Let Daddy have some fun." Joel continues smearing your wetness all over. The messy sounds of your slick being rubbed with his long, thick fingers has you blushing fiercely with embarrassment--embarrassed at the fact that he's touching you like this, probably in the same way he's touched your mom in the past. It's so dirty and naughty.

Your hand gently pets at his scruffy jaw, lashes fluttering so prettily like a butterfly's wings. Lips parted, you slowly and gently kissed him again. This kiss, however, was a lot different than the others. There was a tenderness that Joel got lost in. It made his heart skip a beat, like actually skip a beat. You're so sure he can feel your heart racing as well. Languid kissing was now your favorite thing with him. The soft, wet smacking sounds of your lips connecting and disconnecting has you whimpering delicately.

Joel's fingers now focus on your fluttering pussy hole, slick dripping out non-stop, further adding to the stickiness on his finger pads. The hand holding your jaw from behind your head tightens to pull you away.

"I'm goin' to put a finger inside, okay, baby? Daddy's goin' to make that little pussy feel so good," he whispers needily against your wet lips. When you protest, he shushes you and kisses your lips repeatedly. "Be quiet while Daddy has his fun."

Very carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside your pussy, shushing you again when you let out a squeak and try to pull your hips away. Joel's fingers follow your movements, only deepening each time you try to move. He slowly fucks his fingers inside your pussy, the tight, wet heat making his dick thicken in his jeans. The sloppy sounds of your slick, coupled with your weak whimpers has him growling lowly. He retracts his finger and goes back to rubbing your pussy in up-and-down movements again, only this time he's paying more attention to your needy clit.

"Tha' feel good, honey?" He murmurs sweetly against your lips, kissing you once, twice, three times before glancing down at you. With a shaky nod, you tell him in that pretty voice yes, yes, feels s'good. "Mhm."

Your hips are barely grinding against his thick bulge as if they have a mind of their own. There's a neediness in the way you mouth at his neck, your tongue and teeth mapping every inch that you can reach. With your focus now on something else, Joel takes this opportunity to move his hand from your weeping cunt and bring it between your bodies to slyly unbutton and unzip his jeans. He slowly pulls them down, leaning his head back down to capture your lips in another syrupy slow kiss. His cock springs out of his jeans and rests above the waistband of his boxers.

You're not paying attention to what he's doing--so focused on his lips, his warm skin, his chest, his tongue, his scent, just Joel. Daddy. Daddy.

With your attention on his mouth, Joel blindly grips the base of his cock and brings the tip to your opening. He glides the engorged tip up and around your fluttering hole, tapping it lewdly and crudely against it as wet smacking sounds filling the air. Your eyes fly open, and your body seizes as you grab onto his burly forearm.

"Daddy, no! I'm not ready yet!" You practically cry out, eyes wide and frazzled as you frantically shake your head. You've seen the size of Joel. The man is packing. He's fucking massive. And you know you're not ready to take all of him. You can't imagine the pain of being split open by something so long and so thick.

Joel hushes you sweetly, removing his hand from his thick base to tenderly grab a hold of your hip again. "Jus' grind tha' pussy on Daddy for a little bit, baby. Ssshh... you can do tha' for me, right?" His hips start to slowly grind his dick between your pussy lips, your labia spreading open and your clit catching his frenulum. "You wanna be a good girl for me, right? You wanna be punished again, babydoll? Hm? That what you want?"

Feeble whimpers leave your swollen lips at the thought of Joel further punishing you, beating your backside black and blue again. Resting back onto his chest, you shyly wiggle your hips until the position is comfortable enough for you to grind your hips forward and back. Joel grins and cups the back of your thigh to lift it higher on his waist. The feeling of his cock, now covered in your wetness and gliding easily between your pussy lips, has you feeling so tingly and warm down there. It was a new sensation. Getting to feel the thick vein that stretches from the base all the way to his tip was surreal.

"It... It feels... good," you whisper against his scruffy jaw, lips parted next to his chin to let out heavy breaths as the warmth spreads. "I-I like it."

Joel's deep chuckle reached your ears. "Daddy knows best, babydoll," he tells you, his hips grinding a little harder, so his tip nudges the hood of your clit to fully expose the sensitive nerve. "Daddy knows what's good for you, honey." His hand tightens on your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks to part your lips. "You're jus' my little girl that don't know any better, ain't you? Hm? Are you my dumb babygirl?"

The kiss he gives you is filthy. Your hushed whines are muffled as his tongue fights against yours. The liquid heat burns bigger and stronger, spreading all throughout your lower half, down to the tips of your toes and back up again. Your cunt is fluttering wildly. You feel the same sensation as when Joel ate your pussy. He knows it's going to happen. He can tell in the way your whines get more high-pitched and your hips stutter against his wet cock.

When he pulls away, you chase after him again, one hand desperately grabbing the back of his neck to pull him back down. No, no, no, please, don't go, don't leave me. Eyes filled with tears, you weakly beg him, "Da-Daddy, p-please don't... d-don't stop."

As Joel pulls away, the panic clear as day in your eyes has his heart thudding faster. Oh, you poor girl. So desperate to keep him close by. It was an adorable sight, seeing your eyes filled with thick tears as you beg him, over and over again to please, don't leave me. But he hushes you softly, gripping your jaw tighter and pressing into the bruises. His free hand comes up to his lips where he spits a thick wad of saliva in his palm. His hand goes back down between your bodies to coat his cock in his spit, some of it dripping down his heavy balls.

"Can I put the tip inside your little pussy, baby?" Joel breathlessly asks against your swollen lips, pressing a tender kiss before repeating the question again. "Can Daddy put the tip inside? Hm?"

He grinds his cock up and down your pussy again, the added slickness of his spit creating this disgusting, sopping noise. You start protesting as he notches his thick tip at your wet entrance. Grabbing at his forearm once again, you try your best to keep him from pushing it inside.

Shaking your head frantically, you tell him again, weakly, "I-I'm not ready yet, Daddy!"

Joel shuts you up by biting down roughly on your bottom lip, breaking the skin and licking away the blood that dots the pink flesh. With your blood on his tongue, that only fuels the animalistic need within him to fucking split you open.

"It's just the tip, babydoll," he tells you again, his voice deep, gravelly, wrecked. "You can take it, honey. C'mon. You can... take it." Ignoring your crying protests, he slowly pushed his hips up to slide his tip inside your pussy for the first time. He groans heavily against your mouth, sucking your bloody bottom lip between his own and licking the redness away. "Fuuuuuck."

The burn was nearly excruciating. Having something so thick and wide inside your virgin pussy has your breath catching in your throat. To know that Joel wants to put every single inch of himself deep inside is terrifying. I'm not ready. I'm not ready. No, no, no.

"See? It ain't so bad, huh?" Joel's grin is sick and wide as he feels your hole fluttering wildly around his tip. He gently starts to push his hips in and out, slowly fucking his tip into your cunt. "She's jus' suckin' me right in, ain't she? Fuuuck, baby. She's jus' drivin' me fuckin' crazy." His accent was getting gradually thicker and almost incoherent. His heart is racing over a hundred beats per minute under your shaky palm.

You're trying to breathe in and out deeply to not focus on the uncomfortable pain. The stretch was slowly setting to a numbness. The tip of Joel's cock keeps pressing against a spot beneath your pubic bone, giving you the feeling of tingles but more intense. Joel's smile gets much wider when your body relaxes against his chest, your nose pressing into his neck beneath his ear to let out hushed moans that you're trying so hard to keep silent.

"There we go," he hums deeply. "She jus' needed time to get used to Daddy's dick, hm?" The way he's talking to you and referencing your pussy has you melting into a puddle. It's all so intense and overwhelming--you never want it to end. "Jus' you wait 'til Daddy gets so deep inside of her." He accentuated the word by nudging just an inch deeper inside your pussy, forcing a choked groan from your drooling lips.

Joel's hand is still curled around the base, just below his tip. He can feel the coil tightening in the pit of his stomach as his balls draw tighter. He's panting heavily against your forehead, the slick noises just adding to the liquid heat spreading along his large body. Fuck, he was going to cum just like this, his tip lodged inside his stepdaughter's tight, virgin cunt. A sick, old man he is--defiling his wife's daughter and enjoying the depravity. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Fuck," Joel growls, his nostrils flaring, jaw clenching, and teeth baring as he grips his base tightly and yanks his hips away. He slots his cock between your ass cheeks and strokes his hand up and down hastily, your bruised cheeks jiggling from his fist meeting the flesh repeatedly. The sight has his toes curling. The drowsy whimper you release in his ear and the fucking scent of your pussy that he can smell all the way up from where he lay has his cock throbbing. "Daddy's cummin', babydoll. Oh, f-fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck."

His cum shoots out from between your ass cheeks, thick ropes of white painting your bruises and cute little back dimples, even going so far to reach up your spine and almost landing in your hair. He just won't stop cumming. It's going and going. Joel's entire body is trembling as he jerks the tip, forcing out the last few dribbles of his cum onto your puckered hole.

You felt his spend splattering across your skin, and you wiggle impatiently in his hold, wishing you could've seen it with your own eyes if you weren't so tucked against his neck. Joel lets out a heavy, shaky breath. His beautifully hooked nose brushes against yours, coaxing you to lift your head.

He brings his cum-covered fingers to your lips, the tips rubbing lovingly across the bottom. Maintaining eye contact, you part them and let Joel slowly push his fingers into your mouth. The taste of his cum on your tongue was unlike anything you've ever tasted. It was a masculine, heavy taste, which perfectly accentuates who Joel Miller is. Your eyes flutter shut as you eagerly bring in a third finger, your lips stretched wide around his thick fingers.

"Attagirl," Joel huskily mumbles. "Jus' like that."

You and Joel have fallen into a steady routine. There's an unspoken agreement of where your place is. He can shoot you a specific look and you immediately know what he's trying to say. Joel's an easy man to read, at least to you. There have been many instances where you overheard him and your mom arguing about him being so closed off. But with you, he's so natural at showing you multiple sides of him. You don't mind, really.

As evening falls, Joel is at the stove preparing dinner for both of you. Although it's not your preferred meal, his word is final--what he says, goes. You've learned not to refuse what he's offered so far. Standing near him, you observe his actions with keen interest. Joel often glances back to ensure you're there. You trail behind him, following his every step without question, much like a lost puppy would. Even when he steps into the bathroom, you find yourself waiting right outside the door for him to emerge. It was a weird feeling; a fear you never knew you had within you when it came to your stepdad. You feel as though if he leaves for just a split second, he's never going to come back. And you'll be here lost, alone.

"Dinner time, sweetheart," Joel declares, snapping you out of your daydream. As you dash to the table, he halts you with a hand on your arm. "Whoa, slow down there, speed racer." Chagrined by his gentle chiding, you offer a subdued apology.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, you attempt to follow suit, but he loudly tuts and extends a hand to halt you. Grasping your plate, he sets it down beside his feet. His expression leaves no space for objections. Similar to the previous day, you are left without utensils to eat with. Wordlessly, you get down onto your knees and wait for him to tell you when it's okay to start eating. Joel starts eating his meal pathetically slowly. He's doing it on purpose--you know he's doing it on purpose. He loves making you squirm. He loves to draw it out longer than it's supposed to--just an added perk to his game.

When your stomach starts grumbling loudly, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Joel barely casts you a glance. He keeps eating his meal, even going as far as to hum loudly as the savoring flavors explode on his tongue. When he has just a few bites left, knowing that your food is now cold, he looks down and gives you a single nod.

Immediately, you bow your head to your plate and begin to hastily mop up your meal. It's untidy and careless, yet it doesn't bother you. You're uncertain when Joel might surprise you again, preventing or restricting your eating. As you take each bite, you watch for a sign from him to cease. Looking up, you notice his focus is solely on his own meal, methodically chewing. Sensing your gaze, he commands without glancing your way, "Eat your damn food before I take it away." With a strained whimper, you comply.

Silence stretches through the air as you both eat. You refrain from mentioning to Joel that your stomach is cramping from eating too quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the meal he prepared with care. When he looks at you, he notices the gradual slowing of your jaw as you struggle to swallow. It's becoming apparent to him that feeding you just once a day is taking its toll.

Suddenly, a series of knocks sounded at the door—five urgent, frantic raps. Panic gripped you, shoulders tightening and jaw clenching as you exchanged a fearful glance with Joel. His brows knitted together, and he quickly wiped his hands and mouth with the napkin.

He points down at you, "You stay right here, and don't make a peep. Understood?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before forcefully pushing back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. You wince and watch anxiously as he stomps over to the door and peers through the peephole.

Joel's jaw clenches upon recognizing the visitor. Muttering, "Son of a bitch," he pulls the door open, one hand gripping the doorknob while the other rests atop the doorframe. There on the porch stands your lanky guy friend, the one you visited the lake with. "Can I help you?" he asks, his tone sharp and unwelcoming.

Your friend shifts nervously, taken aback by Joel answering the door. He softly clears his throat, attempting to peer over Joel's shoulder, but Joel moves nearer to the doorway, narrowing the gap on his side.

"I was wondering if your stepdaughter is home?" he stammers, avoiding eye contact with Joel. "She hasn't been answering her phone, and our friends are really worried," he adds, while Joel feels a sense of satisfaction from the fear he perceives in the boy's demeanor.

"She's grounded," Joel says, his tone getting colder when the boy tries, yet again, to look over his shoulder. "Now, I suggest you turn your ass around and get the fuck off my porch."

Your friend's eyes widen, and he takes a staggered step back at Joel's violently dark tone. "The fuck is your problem, man?!"

From within the house, the volume of your friend's voice escalates, almost to a shout at Joel. You observe Joel's hand clench around the doorknob, and it's surprising that it remains intact under his grasp.

He can't understand what overtakes him; perhaps it's knowing you're mere feet away, or maybe it's because the kid has witnessed things about you he disapproves of. However, the only thing Joel is aware of is the white-hot rage engulfing him. You watch as he storms out and slams the door with such force that the vibration is felt on the ground where you kneel.

Outside, Joel's hands clench the collar of the boy's shirt, likely tearing the fabric with his sheer strength. He thrusts him against the porch post, almost splintering the wood and the boy's skull with the impact. Joel leans in, his shoulders rising and falling, emitting a low growl from his throat. The boy's whimpers are muffled as Joel's knuckles press into his windpipe.

"Listen to me, and you listen good," Joel leans in close, his voice low and dangerous. "If you so much as talk to her again, look at her, touch her, or even think about her, I'll have you wishin' you were never born." Your friend's toes are barely skimming the ground as Joel has him literally lifted up against the wooden post. His hands are frantically grabbing Joel's forearms, feet weakly kicking. The man doesn't budge--he only presses harder. "If you come back to my house to bother my girl one more time, I will fuckin' kill you." He gravely whispers the last threat and releases his hands, watching as your friend pathetically falls to the ground onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air as he grabs his throat. "Now, go on. Get."

Joel remains on the porch, his fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. His gaze is fixed on your friend as he dashes away and fumbles into his meager Honda Civic. Even after the vehicle disappears down the road, Joel is motionless. The fury within him, burning in his chest and gut, has not subsided; it has only grown stronger.

Within the house, silence prevails. A single loud thump disrupts the quiet, followed by stillness. You pause for a moment, the sound of your own heartbeat the only noise. The urge to call out to Joel is strong, but the words are stuck in your throat. Anxiety creeps back into your chest, gnawing at your heart and corroding your veins. Did Joel leave? Where is he? Where did he go? Please, come back. Daddy, don't leave. Where are you? Please, please, come back. Don't leave me here alone. They're going to get me. Please. Oh, God. He's gone. He's never coming back.

White noise fills the cracks in Joel's mind. He sits on the porch swing hunched over, both elbows resting on his knees as he twiddles with his gold wedding band. His knee bounces up and down in quick succession. Someone had gotten too close to his home--to his special girl. The lanky fucking kid. Joel's hands clench into tight fists, just begging to slam them into your friend's face over and over until he's a mangled, unrecognizable pile of flesh and broken bones.

He's uncertain of the time he's spent out here; it might have been minutes or perhaps an hour. Time mattered little to him. His thoughts were consumed by you, his little girl. In his eyes, no one could match what he has provided for you, and he believes you would agree. Joel is confident in his knowledge, convinced that you belong to him. He sees himself as your destined protector, even if his hands were metaphorically elongated like a beast with monstrous nails ready to strike.

You belonged to Joel Miller, whether you knew it or not.

As the streetlights flicker on, he realizes it's time to head back inside. The neighborhood is winding down for the evening. A sudden memory jolts Joel; he had left you alone in the house. Leaping from his seat, he flings the door open, then slams it shut, securing both the bottom and top locks. Turning towards the kitchen, he freezes upon spotting you—a mere few feet away, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, whimpering and trembling.

"Babydoll," Joel tuts and carefully walks around you to bend down, tenderly pushing your hair from your face and catching sight of your tear-filled eyes. "Did I tell you to move? Hm?"

The sound of his voice was like a lifeline to your heart—his words were the breath you needed, and you felt as if you were at death's door. In a rush, you stood and threw your arms around his shoulders, almost toppling both of you to the ground. Tears streamed down your face, and sobs of distress were just barely restrained the moment his body pressed against yours.

Crying out to him, "Y-You left me! You l-left me a-alone! I thought... I thought you weren't coming back! The bad people were gonna t-take me away from you!" Trying to bury yourself deeper in his neck, you silently begged for Joel to take you somewhere, far away from here.

It was naive to believe you could manage alone. At your current age, it's only a matter of time before your mom discusses the prospect of moving out. Yet now, the mere idea of being apart from Joel triggers a wave of panic. How can you explain to your mom that without him, you feel incomplete? She might find it appalling. It wasn't difficult to keep your relationship with Joel a secret, but the threat of being pushed out of the house makes you wonder if it's worth it.

"I-I don't think I can do this anymore, Joel," you wept, sniffling and breathing heavily in his shoulder, fingers desperately grabbing at the fabric of his t-shirt to keep him close when he shifts an inch or two away. "I can't... I can't be away from you. I can't th-think, I can't function, I can't breathe w-without you, Daddy!"

There it was, the answer he's been waiting for. Hook, line, sinker. Joel has damaged you so severely to where you need to be around him or else you'll go crazy. This is what he was waiting for, fucking aching for. So young, so innocent, so pure. Now tainted by his predatory hands, bruised and marked by his false promises and sick fantasies. This is a dream come true. His wedding band almost burns through your skin as you feel the cold metal on your bare shoulder.

"Oh, my sweet babydoll," he coos in your ear, that honeyed tone of his easing your worries.

If only you understood his thoughts about you, his desires from you. Convincing your mind that this relationship is normal, making you believe that this is true love—you poor, poor girl.

Joel continues, his voice gradually turning dark as his hands tighten around your shoulders, nails digging crescents into your delicate skin, "This is just the beginning."

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog ; @blueberrypancakesworld ; @heyhihello-4771 ; @codenamekitten ; @chamepagnessimo ; @idioticcatss ; @takochansugoi ; @zjasminelouvre3 ; @natalieispunk ; @koshkaj-blog ; @giowritess ; @beardropascal ; @pascaltesfaye ; @callmeafra ; @nexy00 ; @josephquinnswhore ; @baronessvonglitter ; @peelieblue ; @paanchusblog ; @b3bybunny ; @sugadolly ; @ktluvsmen ; @elliesr1fle ; @taeslarityy ; @yourgirljasmin444 ; @laloestoyvivo ; @aquanatalie ; @vickie5446 ; @cowboybootjoel ; @olicity-boo ; @ashleyfilm ; @withakindheartx ; @puduvallee ; @psychoenergy ; @chuutzuyu ; @cockykookiee

[d4rv1n]

Obedience to Pink.

In this induction I will condition your mind to obey Any and Every command given to you that's highlighted by Pink. Your Thoughts, actions.. even feelings.. They will all be effortlessly controlled by the mere color of text.. Read at your own risk.

Let us begin, shall we? A nice, simple breathing exercise..

Take a long, deep breath for me

Hold it in briefly..

And now let it all out..

Once again, Deep breath in..

Expand your lungs fully..

And a deep breath out..

And as you continue this nice, relaxing cycle you simply let yourself go.. let yourself relax..

as you Breathe in..

you concentrate concentrate all your stress and tension with the air in your lungs..

and we you Breathe out..

you let all this tension go..

Allowing yourself to sink into relaxation..

As you feel every part of your body slowly sink as well..

Every cell, every muscle, every fiber of your being..

with each and every breath you take, your body Sinks further and further..

Deeper and deeper..

into Trance..

Go ahead now and stare Deep into this spiral

Let it draw you in..

Both your body and mind be drawn in by its beauty..

Let yourself be completely mesmerized..

And feel your thoughts simply shut off..

as your body goes numb..

Feel mindless ecstasy wash over you..

and with every second you spend staring into the spiral, your mind shuts down more and more..

you lose control of your body..

It's impossible to move, not that you want to..

It feels So Good to be This Very Deep..

Feel how impossible it is to form a thought of your own..

As if your mind cannot function properly anymore..

Only reading my commands mindlessly..

Letting them control you..

and Obeying..

Here's another spiral for you..

Pretty, isn't it?

Let it remove all thoughts that are left in that silly brain of yours..

And every second you spend staring at it, it draws you So much deeper into relaxation..

So much deeper into Trance..

Let it spin in your brain..

Let it play on repeat..

Even when you're not looking at it..

Feel it be your one and only thought..

Seeing it spin so vividly..

Even while reading my commands..

The spiral has now Dominated your mind..

And in this wonderful, mindless bliss..

it's the only thing you care about..

And each and every second it spins your thoughts away..

is a second you fall Hundreds of times deeper...

Thousands of times deeper..

More mindless than you've ever been before..

More blank than you've ever thought was possible..

And yet, somehow..

Sinking even deeper..

Deeper and Deeper..

Deeper and Deeper..

Deeper.. and.. Deeper..

And now I will count down from three..

And when I reach the number one you'll be in a state of Complete and Absolute trance..

Are you ready?

One..

and you feel your mind shut down more than it has ever..

Two..

And you feel your body go completely Numb and motionless..

and finally..

Three.

Complete.. and absolute..

Trance...

And with the spiral still spinning in your head, take a moment to fully enjoy the relaxation you're feeling right now..

Every muscle, every cell.. Each part of your body and mind..

Completely Off. Shut down.

Enjoy how good it feels to be guided by my words..

Not having to think..

Simply obeying..

Feels good to obey, doesn't it?

Feels so good to submit your mind to me..

Feels so good under my hypnosis..

Under my Absolute Control..

But soon, when I wake you up, I won't be the only thing with such a tight grip on your mind..

Because from now on, everything said in Pink Letters Will control your body and mind just as I control you right now..

From now on, Every command given to you..

Everything you're told to do..

Everything you're told to think..

Everything you're told to feel..

You Will Obey It All

As long as the text is Pink..

There will be no resistance to it..

No matter how hard you try..

You will never have the chance to want against it..

You will never have a chance to disobey..

And it will feel So Very Good when you submit to the text..

as if your purpose in life is being fulfilled..

Pink will have absolute control over Everything about you

No matter whether you're in trance or awake...

No matter where you are or what you're doing..

No matter your attempts at resistance...

The harder you try to resist, the more you will Obey.

And the better you will feel.

You understand, don't you?

Let's put it to the test then, shall we?

Reblog this post with the caption "Pink Controls Me"

And then continue reading this post exactly where you left off

That's a good toy.

And now.. Awake.

Tell me now, Just how much did you enjoy that?

[submenarehotties]

— untitled #1

pairing; submissive ryomen sukuna & dominant gn reader.

(does not follow the plot of the jjk manga or anime)

cw & tw: suggestive, its clear you’re in control here, heian era, uhhh idk if this counts as sfw but i’ll still put a cl regardless…

summary: how did you manage to break down sukuna’s ego in one swoop?

note: guys i can’t write anymore, i’ve lost it😭😭 let alone smut oml - and i’m too lazy to make it all pretty with colors so i’ll probably edit this in like a few months lol. mind any spelling errors!

word count: 0.4k+

ryomen sukuna was not sure what it was about you. the way you made him question all of his decisions. the way you didn’t let anyone get a firm grasp on you. the way you wouldn’t let properly claim you. his ego just cannot bare it.

it was if he had been cursed, which is humorous because he, himself, is the king of curses.

you had such an addictive aura. a fiery one. one that he could not let go of.

and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t enjoying the situation he had put himself in. even if it meant bending his poor ego.

“damn you.” sukuna groaned, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair.

“be careful of what you say.” you murmur sweetly in his ear.

you could disappear and he wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it. you tilt your head curiously, wondering what he’s pondering in that chaotic mind of his.

his eyes snap open and his hand possessively grabs your arm, assuring himself that you won’t disappear from his view.

you scoff, roughly shaking off sukuna’s hand. you cup his chin, looking into his eyes, seeing nothing but deeply hidden fear. not really a shock that you could see that, you’ve completely flipped sukuna’s world upside down.

“don’t tell me that you can’t function without me anymore.” you chuckle, not even believing the words coming out of your mouth.

he stays silent and you know you have your answer. you raise an eyebrow at his silent behavior. his hands reach for your waist, his forehead resting against your stomach as he growls as if angry with himself.

“i don’t want to feel this way. i don’t need to.” he grips your waist tighter as he talks.

“are you so sure? i would bet my life that your heart’s racing so fast right now.” you comment with a smile.

sukuna raises his head, his jaw clenching. you drag a hand down his chest slowly, feeling the unsteady, fast beat of his pathetic heart. he grabs your arm, not to stop you, but to keep your hand there.

“help me.”

sukuna murmurs with a low whine. you wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his whine. you freeze, clenching your jaw, your hand on his chest gripping his kimono for dear life.

it only takes so much for your control to break.

your head bows for a moment before you slowly look up, leaning your face close to his, your lips so close to touching. sukuna is shuddering very slightly at the closeness of your mouth to his.

“what do you want me to help you with exactly?”

while maintaining eye contact with you, sukuna begins to guide the hand that was on his chest lower and lower…

a/n: this literally is so bad, i haven’t written a single thing since december of LAST year. EMBARRASSING! anyway, i may make a part 2 with a lil smth😛 but who knows? - i don’t‼️‼️‼️

click here for my masterlist(s).

© 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[anantaru]

icanf stop thinking abt dainsleif and choking T_T his pretty hands around your throat while he fucks u… rough actions but words filled with praise and as sweet as honey!!! telling u he loves you and how pretty you look like thattt 💕

cw. rough, choking, fem! reader

a/n. currently very busy travelling to different countries due to my work, so enjoy this little drabble i wrote on my notes app while flying 🩷

dainsleif loves how you feel under his roughened palm— how he can recognize your hard gulps and swallows while he‘s pressing his digits into your neck just a little bit more, not too much but also not too faint, so he could notice and experience each flex and hiccup you’d do— in a certain manner, you could state that it‘s the perfect amount of pressure as he saw it.

"fuck— i love you." he pants and fully jerks himself into you, hips spent but determined to push you towards a curling climax— until you feel all bubbly and warm while blissfully crowded with his erect cock. it's almost shameful, how the pearly drops of pebbles threatened to slip from under your sticky lashes at the stimulating stir on your lower region, "you’re so- so pretty." he whimpers above your lips, exhaling the swelling air from his lungs when he feels you more.

"so pretty like this."

dainsleif angles his head towards your direction, winding over your jaw and lips to muffle your like saccharine tasting sobs as the nauseating air surrounding you was beginning to pitch heavier and thicker— cloying, the lack of breathing control teleported you towards bottomless bliss and spirals as your nostrils nose over the penetrating smell of filth and sex, mind overcasted with clouded pleasure.

his hips were relentlessly brushing past the tight ring of your hole and limitless of stamina— slapping erratically into your softness over and over while leaving it to your pretty perfect cunt to gnaw and clench down on his girth to keep him in, languidly stroking him with your spongy insides.

"i love— love you too." you somehow manage to choke out, by how drunk on his cock you appeared to be it was a clear miracle that you were able to squeeze something out at all. your eyes were turning glassy at the stern grip on your neck as his fingers still served as your most dearest necklace— you flutter your lashes open to peevishly admire your lover; how his biceps were wholly tensed and his wet lips widened, his brows eagerly scrunched together as his hips worked in keeping with your own small needy ruts up into his length.

while this alone was almost too much for dainsleif to properly function anymore— he's so terribly addicted and in love with you, it's comical, almost. how you cannot stop drifting your eyes off him, petulantly blinking and pouting at him from under your splashed lashes, all pseudo shy and stimulated, pleased by him and him alone.

even for a man with his level of self restraint, he needed to cum now, all over you— and mark you from the inside out, until you‘re gushing and guzzling up all he gives you, until his heavy cum webs further into your skin and fills your womb with nothing but his whites.

your cunt helplessly pulses around his girth and he nudges his cock closer to you, most prominently deeper until ghosting on to the deepest pleasuring spots in your puffy pussy, settling all the sloppy mess of his seed and your liquids inside of you while the overflow coated him up entirely, leaving nothing untouched.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[quirkwizard]

What are the reasons why All For One wanting a successor before his Injury? This is a question that I have never seen before so may give some reason why I think he might have done it: One is that "Life Force" Quirk may be reaching it's end. The possibility that it may end soon is big problem for All For One so he is planning to get a younger body like Orochimaru or a better Quirk to keep him young then "Live Force". Two is, and I don't know where it comes from, but in the Wiki, it says that "All For One's body cannot properly contain Quirks of newer generations,". So he might be afraid he might not be able to gain more power anymore in the future. So what do you think?

You're half right. All For One's body was failing, both in lifespan and function, because extensively damaged by All Might. So damaged that not even "Super Regeneration" couldn't fix him and he had to be on constant life support. And it was stated by Garaki that All For One was having trouble with Quirks of the newer generation. That he had a harder time controlling the more complex Quirks. Both of those could be a factor. That All For One wanted an immortal body to rule the world forever, giving and taking whatever Quirk he wanted. However, the successor plan was in motion decades before his injury and there wasn't anyone who was a threat to his empire. The real reason was because he wanted to use Tomura's hatred to get "One For All". "One For All" was annoying at first, but was becoming a major problem to All For One, to the point that it ended up killing him. He couldn't beat the person who had it and he couldn't take it either. So he wanted to build up and use Tomura's hatred to take "One For All", finally ridding him of the biggest obstacle in his path.

[thatkarleesidraws]

You wanna know why I like Dazai so much?

It’s because he resonates with me. When I was 18 and severely depressed, I went to the club every weekend. Friday, Saturday and sometimes even Thursday til 5 in the morning, blackout drunk, smoking one cigarette after another, waking up with a massive hangover, just to fill that void in my chest.

Of course it didn’t help. I’ve known it back then, and I know it now. But slipping into those self-destructive behaviours was better than not feeling anything at all.

I don’t know when it started. Maybe I was just born with it. All I knew was that I don’t feel like I belong here and that I want to go home.

I’ve been the golden child, the smart kid that got good grades without studying much. But where did it get me now? I’m 25, working through my second therapy, taking antidepressants again and I have no idea what to do with my life. I have no desire in earning a whole lot of money, no desire to contribute anything to society, no desire to exist.

It’s odd, really. Contradicting even. I find a lot of things beautiful. Music, art, nature, sometimes even people. Always seeing the world through the eyes of a child. Though somehow I’m always at war with myself, trying to bend and force my mind to function properly.

I’m not even sad. I just don’t know what to do or say anymore. I’m so tired of explaining myself, tired of being the “funny friend”, tired of always listening to others. I don’t even want anything anymore.

But there he is. A fictional man, with a dark past who pretends to be silly and carefree even though he’s dying inside, who puts my thoughts into better words than I ever could. That is why I love Dazai so much. Because there is this one character that gives me the feeling that I’m not alone in my suffering. Is it delusional? Yeah, maybe. But I can’t be bothered. He gives me a sense of belonging in this world of pure chaos and for that I cannot thank him enough.

[meangreennunseen]

I have no idea how Perpetual regeneration truly works, but I kinda came to think that at least for Argus, his body recreates itself from mollecular level, moving through the warp. So if he died in point A, Argus' dead body will start to deatomise into dust and will reatomise into same body in point B anchoring the soul back inside. Now that doesn't feel very good for poor Argus, as once he wakes up he has to quickly reajust back on his senses and body movements as everything will hurt and feel alien to him at the start and to add, the time it takes for his body to rebuild varies from few hours to few days, considering how far it is from the spot he died in and his body started recreating at.

At first those were random spots, but once Vulkan started to train Argus, he learned to 'set' those spots with usage of teleporter hammer. And learning to use teleporter hammer was circus on his own: Argus was very bad at at it initially, as he has barely any psyker talents, even as Perpetual. Malcador's theory was that Necrodium on the skin somehow interferes with ability to properly connect to the warp.

To add, Argus had taken some stupid decisions over his long time and those came to bite his ass eventually. I do feel that Perpetual body, even if it can rebuilt itself will gain new mutations, especially if regeneration cannot get rid of some bodily issue, so body will absorb it as new genetic thing. This happened to Argus with his Necrodermis, pure gene-seed of Xth and with the lingering damage from Laerian blade. Now all these aspects just carry from body to body during every regeneration. Though by 40-41st millenium, Argus noticed his regenerations are way slower and takes more time and effort than before. Might be due to age, might be due to all the weird crap Argus' genetics now carry around.

Not to even mention how weird his insides are. Half mutated non functioning organs, his natural organs, either forming new weird formations or mutating themselves or straight down not here anymore. I mean if man could get Xray scans, there would be so many new discoveries.

Medicae: It seems... Wait what? You have two stomaches??

Argus: Well, yes... Laerian blade cut mine in two. I guess body rebuild them in a weird way... It happens.

Medicae: Why... Why do you have 3 lungs?! It's small and barely developed but...

Argus: Astartes gene seed's workings. Do not question.

Medicae: There are particles of what seems to be... Rust in your arm joints?

Argus: Gift from Necrodermis and age.

Medicae: Do I want to know why you have no spleen?

Argus:..

Argus: Well that's certainly new.

[sweet-hearts-and-destiny-knots]

Leaf never explores Cerulean Cave since she hides herself away at Mt. Silver before the opportunity arises (which Mizuki would like to remind is all Green's fault-), so Kotone is the one who delves inside and becomes Mewtwo's Chosen.

When Kotone reaches the deepest recesses of the cave where Giovanni's runaway creation resides, she's warned through telepathic communication he cannot be bound to a ball as with most Pokémon - but should she attempt to capture him regardless, then he will respond by battling her at full force.

Kotone replies she has no intention of doing either - she simply came here out of worry he may be lonely!

Mewtwo possesses some of the most powerful psychic abilities among Pokémon; he senses no hidden hostility within her, nor sinister motives. She goes so far as to set down her bag on the cave's floor as a sign of goodwill. Nevertheless, Mewtwo is taken aback by this unprecedented turn of events.

After a lengthy pause, he commands Kotone to depart from this place, and she complies without so much as a protest or complaint despite seeming sincerely saddened by his decision.

However, she only manages to take a few steps before being demanded to stay!

Mewtwo was born for the sole purpose of battle; to become a nigh unstoppable bioweapon brandished by a man who held ambitions of conquering the world - yet Mew's curiosity runs through the Genetic Pokémon's veins. Why? Why is this human concerning herself with his solitude?

And thus begins the two's odd friendship!

Kotone frequently returns to Cerulean Cave, often with offerings of food. Mewtwo more often than not won't accept them, stating that his body requires less sustenance to function properly compared to most species of Pokémon.

He can eat regularly; he simply refuses to.

(Mewtwo does eventually express a liking towards Rage Candy Bars and Mushroom Medley Curry, though-)

For the first few visits, the two sit in relative silence. Kotone doesn't mind this, since at least Mewtwo isn't sitting in silence alone anymore. The long quiet is occasionally broken by a question from either. Kotone never fails to ask if there's anything he would like her to bring the next time they meet.

The answer is always no, but as their time together increases, Mewtwo's tone when responding noticeably softens.

He has several inquiries for the human companion he's suddenly acquired, yet attempts to feign indifference. Each query is followed by another stretch of silence - however, the duration of the quietness gradually decreases. Mewtwo also experiences and is baffled by a profound sense of emptiness the days she isn't present.

And then one fateful day...

Mewtwo: ...Do you know of a man by the name of Giovanni? Kotone: ...Yes, I do. Mewtwo: *flicks tail* ... ... How so? Kotone: He hurt someone I care for. So much. And... I stopped him from hurting anyone else, I hope... Mewtwo: ... ... ... Kotone: *gently takes Mewtwo's hand* Did Giovanni hurt you too?

No one has ever held his three-digited hand before, nor shown him such consideration and gentleness. The gesture paired with her sympathetic gaze melts Mewtwo's heart - something the leader of Team Rocket attempted to convince him didn't exist.

Mewtwo then feels compelled to share with Kotone the story of his creation and confinement: his first memory of being gawked at by a collection of scientists after awakening, the various and often painful experiments they forced him to endure on Giovanni's orders, how he was treated more akin to a thing rather than a living being capable of thought and emotion...

There were two members amongst the team who protested the severity of the procedures. But despite one of them holding the position of Project Mewtwo's head scientist, they were against the majority who bore the belief Pokémon are merely tools for humans. Why should this particular one be an exception?

And Giovanni's demands weren't to be defied, lest there be... consequences.

All of this soon culminated into Mewtwo destroying the mansion that once concealed his tormented existence. And then he chose to hide away from the rest of the world within this cave.

He escaped from one prison, only to lock himself away in another.

Kotone cries for him. Mewtwo finds himself shedding tears as well.

When their teardrops have at last dried and Kotone is preparing to depart from Cerulean Cave, the Genetic Pokémon discovers he doesn't want her to leave.

Mewtwo reaches for her hand, just as she did his before.

Mewtwo: Wherever you may go... let me go too.

He kneels before her, a fragile bodied human woman, and lowers his gaze, awaiting her response. A few seconds pass, Mewtwo hears the rustling from Kotone rummaging through her bag, then feels a gentle tap against his forehead.

He lifts his head. She's smiling at him while holding a Friend Ball. Kotone offers her hand to Mewtwo, which he accepts with a soft smile of his own, then rises to his feet.

The unlikely pair exit Cerulean Cave, hand in hand.

The following day, Kotone excitedly informs Silver she's found his long-lost younger brother! The redhead experiences an internal crisis as he paces around Johto's National Park.

Silver: (The old man has another secret lovechild?! With who?!?! Did he abandon this one on the side of the road too?!?!?! How many others are there running around?!?!?!)

Silver has composed himself to some degree when Kotone finally arrives, only to undergo another internal crisis and one much more intense than the last as soon as he sees her happily holding hands with not a human boy, but Mewtwo.

Kotone: Mewtwo, this is your big brother, Silver! Mewtwo: *narrows eyes and flicks tail*

All words die in Silver's throat. He's already acquainted with Mewtwo. He recalls well the day his old man called him down to the basement of their mansion on Cinnabar Island to peer at the Genetic Pokémon curled up and floating inside a large glass tube, immersed in some sort of strange glowing liquid...

Mewtwo's eyes suddenly snapped open, stared deeply into his soul, then that three-digited hand thumped against the glass.

Silver flinches at the memory.

Silver: ...Kotone, that's not my brother. Kotone: Well not with THAT attitude!

Later in life, she introduces Mewtwo to others as her brother-in-law. But that's a story for another day.

("February 6th. We obtained a new Pokémon from Mew. We have named this new Pokémon 'Mewtwo'." - Cinnabar Mansion Journal Entry

Happy Birthday, Mewtwo.)

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 9 - I made a mistake

Satoru fucked up, he knows it. He knows it, but there’s no way to take it back, and that might just be the worst part about it.

He’s in dire need of some advice, so he barges into Shoko’s room, absolutely frantic to get some help.

“Shoko, I need your help,” he rushes out and Shoko only throws him a lazy look, clearly not convinced of the urgency of the situation.

“I’m not here to help you manage your social life,” she eventually says and Satoru frowns, momentarily forgetting his own very real, very serious problem.

“How do you know it’s that? I could be actively dying.”

“You have a voice for that.”

“A voice.”

“A very Shoko-I-somehow-got-my-arm-unattached-from-my-body-and-now-I-need-help-voice. This is not that. This is your Shoko-I-socially-fucked-up-voice. And with that I cannot help.”

“That’s—uncalled for, actually,” Satoru mutters before he gravity of the situation slams into him all over again. “But please, Shoko, I really do need your help.”

“You’re not going to leave without at least telling me about whatever you fucked up, are you?” she asks, clearly already somewhat resigned to her fate and she only sighs when Satoru shakes his head.

“Nope,” he still says for good measure, just so she knows just how serious this is and finally Shoko gives him her full attention.

“Okay, hit me with it, then,” she says and Satoru takes a deep breath.

“I may have implied to my family that Suguru is my boyfriend,” Satoru rushes out, in case Shoko changes her mind again and because it’s actually painful to admit that and immediately Shoko’s eyebrows fly up.

“Oh, damn,” she whispers. “You really fucked up.”

“I did,” Satoru cries out and buries his face in his hands. “Fuck, I fucked up so badly. How am I ever going to explain that to him in a way that doesn’t make him lose it?” he desperately asks and he doesn’t even need to look up to know that Shoko is wincing.

“I’m not sure that there’s a way,” she carefully says and Satoru almost sobs at that.

He knows that this is bad, that Suguru is probably going to hate him for it and he has no goddamn clue how he’s every going to fix it.

“What if I just don’t tell him?” he tries and Shoko hits him over the head for it.

“You know that your family is going to approach him if they think you’re together. Things are not quite that easy for you prominent clan members,” she reminds him as if Satoru could really have forgotten that.

“I know,” he whines out because it doesn’t help with his problem at all. “He’s going to cut me out of his life, I just know it. And then I’ll have lost him and I’ll have to tell my family that we broke up and I’m not going to survive it.”

“Oh, Satoru,” Shoko helplessly says, because what else is there to say, really.

Satoru is right after all.

Suguru is going to blow a fuse, he’s going to be incredibly mad at Satoru and then he won’t want anything to do with him anymore and just like that Satoru will have lost his one and only and all because he’s stupid and can’t function properly when he talks to his mother.

Fuck.

“Maybe he won’t take it so badly?” Shoko suggests and now that makes Satoru snort out a desperate laugh.

“Yeah, right. That seems likely with how vehemently he has always protested any kind of notion in that direction,” he gives back because people have mistaken them for a couple several times already and every time it was brought up, Suguru almost exploded with anger and he always rushes to set things straight: we’re not together, how dare you even suggest that, never say something like that again.

Satoru always found his reaction a little bit over the top, especially since he didn’t mind it at all and what does it even matter if some strangers think they are together, but Suguru was always quick to shut such suggestions down.

It made it more than clear that he’d never see Satoru in that light, that he’d never want a relationship, no matter how much Satoru wished for it and to fuck up like this now is probably going to cost him Suguru entirely.

Satoru just wants to hide himself away for the rest of his life, hoping that like this he doesn’t have to see Suguru be furious with him for a change.

“What are you going to do?” Shoko asks and Satoru deflates where he stands.

She’s right when she says that his clan will most likely contact Suguru somehow so there’s not really much he can do.

“I’ll have to tell him,” Satoru whispers and Shoko hums.

“That sucks,” she says and that’s the understatement of the year. “I know it’s not much but you can come here to get smashed afterwards if you want,” she then offers and Satoru knows how jealously she hoards her alcohol so for her to offer this, he must really be in deep shit.

“Thanks, I guess,” he mutters and turns back around to the door. “I’ll go destroy the best thing in my life now, then,” he adds on and while it sounds overdramatic, that is exactly how it feels to him.

But there’s no way around it—he already knew that before he came to Shoko—and he just has to be a big boy and get it over with.

He makes his way over to Suguru’s room, dragging his feet a bit, but he still arrives at his door sooner than he’d like.

Satoru takes one deep breath before he knocks and then he shuffles unsurely around as he waits for Suguru’s call.

Instead of doing that, Suguru comes to the door himself, and Satoru flinches.

“Satoru? What’s wrong?” Suguru asks and of course something must be wrong because Satoru normally never knocks. He never needed to, he was always welcome to barge right in, but he knows that he’s going to lose that privilege as soon as he tells Suguru what’s going on, so he better starts behaving accordingly as soon as he can.

“Can I come in?” Satoru asks and Suguru’s face clouds over with worry.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks and then reaches out to take Satoru’s temperature. “Are you sick?”

“No. Suguru, can I come in?” he asks again and cherishes the way Suguru’s name feels in his mouth.

He’ll probably have to refer to him as Geto once this is all over and that alone is almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“You’re freaking me out,” Suguru says but he does step aside to let Satoru in.

“Sorry, I just—there’s something I have to tell you,” Satoru mutters and he can tell that his words do nothing to alleviate Suguru’s worries.

“Okay, spit it out then,” Suguru says once the door is closed behind Satoru and Satoru wrings his hands in front of his chest.

“I just want to start this off with the fact that I didn’t really mean to and I’m really very sorry. If that helps at all.”

“It would, maybe, if you could tell me just what exactly it is you did,” Suguru gives back and Satoru knows that there’s no way around this, that he has to come clean about this and yet he still stalls for a few more precious seconds.

A few seconds more where Suguru doesn’t hate him yet and Satoru hoards them as greedily as he can.

“I made a mistake,” he finally starts with and Suguru frowns.

“Okay. What kind of mistake?” he asks and Satoru starts to pace in his room.

“My mother called me today, and you know how talking with her always gets me,” he explains and Suguru nods, because it’s not news to him that talking to anyone from his family fucks Satoru a little bit up every time. “And she keeps pestering me about finding someone to settle down with and to preferably start producing heirs as soon as possible.”

“You’re not even eighteen yet,” Suguru interjects and Satoru shrugs, because that really has never mattered to his family.

If it were up to them he would probably already be a father, preferably a few times over, just in case they can have more overpowered Gojo’s.

“Not the point,” Satoru mutters.

“What is the point then?”

“The point is that I may have panicked?” he asks and then falls silent again, unable to find the words.

“And done what? Satoru, seriously, do I have to pull every word out of you?” Suguru wants to know, clearly getting impatient now and Satoru takes a deep breath before he finally spills it all.

“I may have blurted out that I’m already seeing someone, but that I wasn’t ready to tell them yet, just so she would get off my back, but of course she didn’t and instead pestered me to know who it was and her guesses were getting increasingly disturbing so I eventually just blurted out that I’m seeing you.”

He doesn’t dare to look at Suguru, doesn’t want to know what kind of face he’s making at hearing that and he’s sure that the yelling is going to start any moment now.

Instead Suguru stays quiet. Eerily so.

“Suguru?” Satoru finally asks and when he looks at Suguru he’s not prepared for the crestfallen look he sees on his face.

“Why would you do that?” Suguru asks, his voice barely above a whisper and he looks so hurt that Satoru feels like the scum of the earth, knowing he was the one to put that look on his face.

He would have preferred anger, he thinks.

“I just—I panicked. I didn’t think.”

“How is that the first thing you can come up with, though? Shoko is right there. Why did it have to be me?”

“Maybe—” Satoru starts and then decides to fuck it. Suguru is going to hate him one way or another, so it’s probably best to put it all out there. “Maybe because it was the first thing I thought of.”

“But why?” Suguru demands to know again and Satoru locks his eyes with.

“Because it’s something I wish was true, so I couldn’t think of anything—anyone—else,” he admits and then waits for the unavoidable anger that’s sure to follow his words.

“You—want me to be your boyfriend?” Suguru mutters and Satoru shrugs.

“Yeah. I have, for a long time. I know how you feel about that, though, so I get it. I know you must be mad, I know you must be disgusted. And I wish I could change it, I wish I could take it all back, but things with my family are not quite that easy and they are not going to ignore this. I expect them to contact you some time this week, so I thought it’s best to warn you before that.”

“Wait, hold on, stop,” Suguru rushes out and holds up his hands as if that could force Satoru’s words to a stop. “What do you mean, you’ve felt that way for a long time?”

“Just that. I’ve been in love with you for months now, Suguru. What else do you want me to say?”

“But you never said anything!”

“Right,” Satoru lets out a bitter laugh. “You think I am that eager to get rejected? I know how you feel about that, I’ve seen the way you react to people assuming this about us, so I always knew I had no chance at all. But I didn’t think with my mother, and now it’s all fucked up.”

“How I feel about that?”

“Suguru, please, can we just skip ahead to the point where you yell at me and tell me to get out and never come back? I can’t do this,” Satoru begs him, because he’s not a fan of dragging the inevitable out like this but he was not prepared for the way Suguru steps forward and takes his hands in his.

“Satoru, I love you,” Suguru says and it’s so out of left field that Satoru doesn’t even understand what’s happening.

“You’re mad at me,” he gives back and watches how Suguru shakes his head, his hair flying.

“I’m not, gods, I’m not! Satoru, I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“But you—that can’t be, you always yelled at people who assumed things about us,” Satoru mutters out, because he wasn’t imagining that. “Even Shoko knows that you’re going to kick me out of your life for this, that’s how much you hate the notion of a romantic relationship with me.”

“Fuck, that’s so not true,” Suguru rushes out. “I’m sorry it came across like that! It’s just—whenever people assumed that I was so hurt because it wasn’t true and there was no way in hell that you’d ever feel that way about me, so I got defensive.”

“What do you mean, I’d never feel that way?”

“I just mean—what would you ever see in me?” Suguru asks and squeezes Satoru’s hands. “I thought I had no chance. I’m not from a big clan, I am nothing special, so why would you ever feel that way about me?”

“Because you’re Suguru,” Satoru gives back as if that explains everything and to him it does.

Suguru is Suguru and that’s why Satoru loves him.

“I didn’t know,” Suguru mutters and rests their foreheads together. “Satoru, I didn’t know. I never would have expected this.”

“So—you’re not mad,” Satoru has to say, because it still makes little sense to him what is happening.

“I’m not mad. I’m overjoyed. I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Really?” Satoru has to ask to make sure.

“Really,” Suguru immediately gives back. “I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

“It’s not as if I ever said anything to make you think you have a chance, apparently,” Satoru replies even though he wonders how that can be, but maybe that’s a conversation for a later point.

“But I know better now,” Suguru says and tilts his head to brush a kiss over Satoru’s lips. “Boyfriend.”

The word makes Satoru all tingly and he can’t help the big smile that breaks out on his face.

“Boyfriend,” he agrees and dives right in for a real kiss. “I like how that sounds.”

“Me, too,” Suguru admits and when he pulls Satoru in for a bone-crushing hug, he goes easily.

They stay like that for a long time and even though Satoru knows that there will have to be at least one more conversation to be held about this—at least about the expectations his clan will have for Suguru—he thinks that all of that can wait because there’s no power out there that could make him pull away from Suguru at that moment.

Or ever again, but he thinks it might be a little bit too soon to admit that as well. Small steps, he thinks, and buries his face in the crook of Suguru’s neck. He already has what he wants in his arms after all. Everything else can come later.

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

I'm ill again because I have the immune system of a sickly victorian child. Therefore I must project onto the harry potter next gen kids

What i think (some) of the next gen kids are like when they're sick:

Scorpius: I've already done a whole post on this but I have no idea how to link posts despite being on this site for years. the short version is, he was a sick child and constantly in and out of hospital so now he cannot gauge when he's actually really sick and needs to just rest, so albus has to forcibly keep him in the dorm or hospital wing otherwise he will still try and go to class even if actively dying

Albus: he's lowkey so dramatic. if he has a small cold you WILL be hearing about it, BUT he's super subtle. he will casually tie it into conversation to make you feel sorry for him and just keep bringing it up until youre like aw no, im so sorry man. he doesnt try with rose anymore, because she will just mock him, she knows what hes doing. he's most obvious about it to Scorpius, he'll start pouting and be like I feel sick 🥺🥺 and Scorpius is immediately like oh poor baby 🥺🥺/gen and does in fact baby him until he feels better

Rose: does not get sick and its infuriating. when there's some kind of bug going around the school, you can guarantee this girl will not get it. she thinks everyone is just being dramatic and trying to get out of class. don't come to her for sympathy unless you actually look like you're on deaths door. the most sympathy surprisingly goes to Scorpius because she has seen this idiot try to attend class whilst not being able to function properly and be escorted out

Hugo: he doesnt get sick often, like a slightly below average getting sick, but my version of hugo is so unbothered by everything, he would end up in hospital or whatever but wont tell anyone, not on purpose, he just never goes out of his way to mention anything until it specifically comes up in conversation. Hes the random kid that pops up, says he has a relevant anecdote, tells you the wildest story youve ever heard so casually, youre left like???? what the fuck?? and how has that never come up before????, then he just dissapears again

James: gets so mopey, he gets so restless and hates having to sit and wait to get better. he'll enjoy not having to go to class for like one day but when you tell him he can't go anywhere or play quidditch or anything he's immediately over it like, 😟😟 wdym??? wdym I have to just lie here until I'm better??? lemme out!!!! LEMME OUT!!!!

Lily: lowkey whiny. she's not usually super whiny but she acts like a little kid when she's sick and will constantly frown and pout and cross her arms and kick her legs. collateral of being the youngest sibling lmao. she wants people to do everything for her and will shout for people to come get the TV remote or something that's only like 2 feet away from her and just shake her arm at it until you pass it. Ginny and Harry do it for her, her brothers do not lmao

Victorie: doesn't usually get sick-sick often, but I headcanon her as being a general athlete, she likes to do triathlons in her spare time, and if she gets injured she literally has to not be able to walk before she stops. she will just keep going. have you seen female footballers? the way they will be wacked in the head and start bleeding everywhere but then be like meh I can keep going. so her.

Louis: cannot stand the wanting to throw up kind of sick. he can deal with anything else, he has a pretty good immune system, he can pretty much carry on with normal stuff, and you won't even realise he's sick, but the second he feels stomach sickness, he is pale as a ghost and out for business. lowkey has emetaphobia, he will just sit so still until he doesn't feel like that anymore trying to make it go away by just 🧍🏻‍♂️if I don't move it won't know I'm here, yk lmao. hates throwing up so fucking bad

Roxanne: takes the sickness as some kind of personal test. is dramatic in the sense that she will go full warrior mode and be like 😈 i will survive 😈 I will not be beaten by these pitiful germs 😈 and will absolutely just rock her way through it, she talks like she's on some kind of quest, and that this is some kind of evaluation of her perseverance

Fred: just lies there. will not move until he's better. doesn't get really dramatic or complain but god forbid you try and make him do something, he'll start going off about how normalised it is for people to push themselves when sick because society wants people to work themselves to death, and doesn't actually care about anyone's health, and everyone just gets so sick of hearing him, they leave him alone

Karl Jenkins: will purposefully cough on people to get them sick too "as a joke"

[yandere-romanticaa]

This is more like a future prompt for an angst sunday fic but imagine isekai'd reader who is absolutely obsessed with Sunday and their love is so consistent that Sunday starts believing that maybe their love will last forever and starts paying less attention to the reader thinking at the end of day reader is his and his alone. After neglecting reader for a few months suddenly reader is struck with the realization that they have to leave this world sooner or later, now going home,leaving their friends,adventures and memories isn't the real challenge; it's the desperate possessive Sunday who went feral as soon as the news was shared .

This is not a request, just wanted to get this off my mind and what's better than sharing it with a Sunday brainrot 🥺🎀

I've already discussed this specific isekai idea before but I actually have not mentioned the other idea I also toyed with.

This one can be yandere but here's the gist - you, the reader, gets killed in this world and are reborn in Penacony to one of the Family houses, I was thinking of The Iris Family. At some point in early childhood you recall all of your memories of your previous life and decide to put a stop to Sunday by becoming his friend. You first get closer to Robin and over time Sunday as well.

By the time the story as we know is supposed to happen, things are low key different. I'm just thinking the idea of Sunday being so obsessed with you, his fiancee (the arrangement which he had so carefully orchestrated) that he has a hard time overseeing the Order. Congratulations, you've successfully hardwired his brain and the man cannot function properly without you anymore.

Of course, this idea is honestly not that original but I still think it's adorable.

[ano-po]

Are you afraid of deciding on your own because you might fail?

Well, there are several reasons where you got that mentality, but you know it usually comes from your family.

Especially when they're controlling and narcissistic.

They don't let you decide on your life without their permission, be it buying a car, a house, deciding on a degree, your partner, even your fashion. They think they own you, and they should be deciding for you. This makes you dependent on their decisions.

Some might like that, but you know, that's not a happy life to live. Just following the path set by someone else. You are promised safety, you are promised success, but you look around and see yourself actually stuck. Not even your brain is functioning properly anymore.

You try to get out of their road, you fight them, and they will end up saying, "Fine! Get out! You'll come back to us begging."

That's actually a prayer for your failure.

A normal loving parent would pray that you stay safe, and that you become successful.

They don't care what will happen to you. They only care about the notion of owning you.

Are you still afraid to decide? Are you afraid to take risks? Well that's understandable, as you are just going out and are basically still a baby.

To gain confidence in your venture forward,

(1) You first must accept that failure really happens, and we must learn from them. Give yourself space for failure. A lot of people fail several times before learning the tricks of life.

If you want to minimize your failures, do research, observe people going towards the same fields, and always have a backup plan.

(2) Don't tell them what you wanna do. You might be compelled to tell them your next steps because either you're used to that, or you just have a big mouth, or you wanna prove that you have a vision. No, don't do that. They will implant a seed that you cannot do it. It will come off as 'I did it this way and I'm successful', making you doubt your process.

You have to accept that people have their own process. What worked during their time might not work for you, heck maybe it didn't actually work and they're just lying, because if it worked and trusted their own process, they wouldn't be too controlling and emotionally immature.

(3) In your venture forward, think about establishing your own place. Quite materialistic, but having your own place is a mental assurance that you have your own place to stay, and that you will not come back begging (as you are very afraid of that). It will be hard at first, all these legalities, real estate prices, and decision makings are complicated. You might get scammed if you don't research enough. But stay strong and well-informed. Always ALWAYS research. Why am I emphasizing research here? Well, because they never taught you these life skills, so you are parenting yourself now. You can do it.

(4) Let's talk about energy. Children with controlling narcissistic parents are always surrounded by negative energies. Do you often have consecutive strings of bad luck? Like printer not working when you need it most - kinda thing? It's a long psychological explanation, but you must invest to get out of that envelope of energy (it's just perception on life, but you know). To gain confidence and trust in yourself, you must look at the things you always get lucky at. You also need to venture out and believe that you get lucky on important things. For example, whenever I book Airbnb, I always get the best cheap places. Before, I would be afraid to decide on a place. I was even scared of ordering on Jollibee counter. Now, it makes me think that I'm good at deciding about this, leading me to believe that I can choose the best real estate, I just have to believe in myself. I just have to pray.

Remember, they are praying for your failure, so your prayers for success must be stronger. It's also helpful to attract friends and partners who believe in you.

This is the year that you must notice where you're headed in life if you stay. You must notice the negative energies so you learn how to escape it. You must gain confidence to walk your own path.

Happy New Year.

[quinloki]

I headcanon that marco/sabo/ace/law/kid/killer would all be down for the whole mask kink kinda thing

I mean, killer already has it down. But a ghostface mask or something similar and maybe a little chase? They’d be down 👀👀

Tho I feel like it wouldn’t be something that you would even have to ask for but they’d see the TikTok’s or something over your shoulder, maybe tease a little about oh is that something you’re in to, and come home with the mask one day 👀

…. Can you see where my brain has been all day omfg I can’t get the idea of Marco in one of those masks OUT OF MY HEAD I JUST WANT HIM TO CHASE ME

🫠🫠🫠

…. Sabo would also be scary good at it I’m ngl

...

Marco wearing the mask and a black robe. He keeps shape shifting, making the cloak billow and sending out bursts of teal and gold flames. The colors halo around the mask, which you just see darting toward you for a brief moment before he shifts back.

Coming up to loom over you in a flutter of black cloak and flames. All 6'8" of him just engulfing you and snapping you up like the defenseless little creature you are.

>.>

<.<

I cannot function properly for the rest of this thot because the idea of Marco prone-boning you while in the mask with a fake knife at your throat. Talking about how since you're not a pretty little virgin anymore there's nothing protecting you in this "horror movie" and he'll just have to do whatever he wants to you now 🩵

And Sabo... gods... just. He would leave you to think he wasn't going to ANYTHING like that at all. You certainly don't have to worry about him, you can come running to him and he'll protect you from all the mean nasty guys trying to scare you. Yes, you can safely sit right by him without worry.

Hey, he knows a place where you can take a break. No one else will bother either of you, and you can let your guard down for a bit. Oh, you're going to follow him, how sweet of you.

And when he leads you into the room to "rest" there's bdsm furniture everywhere, and chains and accessories lining the walls. Gloved fingers holding your shoulders tight, and his muffled voice comes from behind the mask.

"Worry not, you'll soon be so exhausted your body will relax."

I'll give you tricks or treats