#i’m like a child without a leash | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snail-day · 2 months ago

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I fear my baby fever has taken over the past few days, so I present you with the JJK men as fathers headcanons.

TW: Babies, Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, slight yandere behaviors.

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna

WC: 3k

a/n: I won’t get into the actual pregnancy details just yet—saving that for a later date (a rather soon date). Also wasn't expecting to yap so much about this. Enjoy!

Gojo Satoru

Oh dear. This poor man.

There are very few things in the world that can shake Satoru Gojo to his core. He has stared down curses beyond comprehension, fought battles that could wipe out cities, and held the weight of the world on his shoulders without so much as flinching.

But when he holds his baby for the first time?

Oh, he crumbles. Practically has to bite his lip to stop himself from outright sobbing, whole body stiff, breath caught in his throat, because how the hell is something so small, so warm, so unbelievably perfect? They’re not even cleaned off yet, and this man is already kissing their tiny head, his lips soft against their damp skin, murmuring thank yous like a prayer. To you, to the universe, to whatever god decided that he—a man who has lost too much—was allowed to have something this precious.

Don’t you worry, there will be a celebration. A sushi boat is being delivered as soon as possible (as if you weren’t already expecting that).

However, here’s the thing, Satoru was already clingy before.

Now? Now he’s unbearable. Words cannot describe how this man refuses to let you leave his eyesight for more than a moment. He adored you before, but now you’re the mother of his child. The woman who carried a piece of him inside her, who gave him something he never thought he could have. If you so much as disappear into another room? Satoru is ready to Hollow Purple the air itself.

Following you around like some puppy with his spawn that resembles him a little too much: ("Dumpling? Where’d you go?" "Satoru, I’m in the bathroom." "...Can I come in?")

Oh, and he takes such good care of you too. Sure, he teases—makes his usual dumb jokes, smirks like an idiot—but when it comes to postpartum recovery? This man is all in. You have to make that infamous diaper concoction after birth? He’s right there, handing you an ice pack for your bits, whispering, “I have never loved you more.” If you ask, hell, if you even hint at needing help with anything? He’s already doing it. Witch hazel wash? No hesitation. Helping you in and out of the bath? He’s got you. Bringing you food, making sure you drink water, physically tucking you into bed because you refuse to rest? He does it all. Yes, he will absolutely pick you up and put you back in bed if you try to do too much: ("Satoru, I can walk." "Oh, I know you can, but should you?" Cue him plopping you onto the couch with a smug grin, a fluffy blanket, and a kiss to your forehead.)

Now, as much as he loves his baby, he is deeply afraid of the newborn phase. Like, undeniably so. The idea of rolling over and crushing them in his sleep? A recurring nightmare. (Yes, he believes in skin-to-skin contact. Yes, he read a bunch of articles about it while out on missions. Yes, he panicked about every single one.) Trimming their tiny fingernails? His worst nightmare. And trust, your house is baby-proofed to the maximum.

But once they hit the toddler phase? Oh, he thrives. They're curious! They tell him the craziest stories, and he eats up every single one. He loves feeding them sweets, spoiling them rotten. He definitely brings them to the school with him, letting them color all over his mission logs (that he’s been avoiding anyway).

And when they start walking? Oh, this is where things get real.

Satoru Gojo is undeniably, unapologetically, shamelessly a leash dad. The first time his little one wobbles too far from him in public? Leash acquired. Not just any leash, oh no, it’s cute. He makes sure it matches their little outfits, maybe even gets custom ones with their initials embroidered on them (never their name, that's how they get kidnapped!) Safety first!

If anyone dares to give him a weird look? He dares them to say something. His sunglasses drop down the bridge of his nose as he grins, voice sickly sweet: "You got a problem?"

Unfortunately, probably gets one for you too. Just to be a menace of a husband, loops it around your wrist with a teasing smirk, leaning in close, "Can’t have my favorite person running off, now can I?"

("Satoru, take this off me." "Make me.")

Geto Suguru

Oh, Suguru, who definitely acts more like a mother than a father.

This man embodies nurturing (and controlling, but hey, he’s going to therapy… maybe). Sure, he technically runs a cult, but you and your twins? You don’t really need to know that. (His poor assistant, though, absolutely running damage control while he’s busy doting on you.)

From the moment you give birth, Suguru is relentless in his care. He follows every superstitious belief—some of them might be outdated, but he does not care. You will be sitting for a month. No cold foods, no heavy lifting. Okay, he’ll allow you to wash your hair, but standing in the shower? Absolutely not. Baths only. He’s drawing them for you, making sure the temperature is just right, ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible.

If he weren’t a cult leader, he’d make the perfect stay-at-home dad.

Oh, the birth itself? He refuses to trust non-sorcerers with your pregnancy. No hospital, no epidurals, no way. It’s a birthing pool, at home, the natural way. And the second those babies are in his arms? He is devoted. Just like Satoru, you’re not leaving his sight. Neither are those babies.

But the baby phase? He hates it.

Not the babies themselves, of course, but dear god, two at once is a nightmare. They’re constantly tugging on his dark hair, they somehow manage to unlock baby-proofed cabinets (how are they that smart already?), and the mess? The sleepless nights? The chaos? It’s almost enough to drive him insane. But even through his exhaustion, he’s never anything but soft with them. Always the nurturing, coddling one. Because even though this phase is hell, he still loves them more than anything.

But once they hit the toddler years? That’s when he shines.

Suguru is the epitome of patience, his voice always gentle, his hands always steady as he guides them through their little tantrums and misadventures. He isn’t a leash dad, he simply doesn’t need to be. His twins are always either in his arms or holding his hands, their little fingers wrapped around his own as they toddle beside him.

Sure, some people might call him a helicopter parent. But he’s raising two little girls. The world is a dangerous place, and he’s not taking any chances. Let someone even think about looking at them the wrong way—his smile might be soft, but his presence is terrifying. No one is getting near his babies. And if anyone dares to question his overprotectiveness? He simply tilts his head, that ever-calm voice carrying something dangerous beneath the surface:

"Would you rather I let them run loose? Hm?"

Suguru is a morning person, but not in the “up at dawn” kind of way. No, he savors the mornings, stretches them out as long as possible, slow and quiet, just the way he likes it. He wakes before you do. Always. Most mornings, he watches you sleep for a little while, fingers tracing slow patterns along your hip, your back, wherever he can touch (loves your stretch marks). Something is intoxicating about these quiet moments, the way you breathe so softly, the warmth of your skin against his. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, presses the gentlest kiss to your temple.

You belong to him. It’s a dangerous thought, but one he doesn’t fight.

The twins usually wake up before you do, one always stirring the other, little giggles or babbling voices breaking the silence. Suguru moves without a hint of hesitation, careful not to wake you as he slips out of bed, padding softly toward their room. Suguru melts every single time. His girls, half-asleep, hair messy, rubbing their tiny fists against their eyes, reach for him instantly with little grabby hands. Lifts them with ease, one in each arm, pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads before settling them against his chest.

"Did my little princesses sleep well?"

Cue sleepy nods, little arms clinging to him as he carries them downstairs. He makes breakfast with one toddler perched on his hip, the other playing on the floor nearby. Feeds them, cleans them up, all before you even wake up. He wants you to rest, wants you to have the luxury of a slow morning. By the time you stir, he’s already setting a cup of tea on your bedside table, pressing a kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “Stay in bed. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

And if you dare try to get up? Oh, you better believe he’s scooping you back under the covers, lips ghosting against your ear as he hums, “You don’t want to upset me, do you?” Playful, teasing, but firm.

(Yeah, okay—maybe he’s a little possessive. But can you blame him? You gave him his whole world.)

Suguru is the definition of a doting husband. Not just in the classic ways. Sure, he makes sure you’re comfortable, that you’re taken care of, but it’s the smallest details that make it clear: this man worships you. He brushes your hair at night, fingers ghosting against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” a soft murmur like it’s an afterthought. Like he just has to say it. Absolutely loves watching you with the twins. The way your voice softens when you talk to them, the way you hold them close. He lives for it. (It does something to him, something dangerous.) Insists on tucking you in every night. Even if you’re already comfortable, even if he’s exhausted, he needs to make sure you’re safe, warm, and content. It’s his job.

When it comes to you leaving his sight? Absolutely not. You get up to leave the room? He’s watching you (on the cameras in the house, that you definitely aren't aware of). Someone dares to ask for your attention when he’s near? His hand is on your lower back before you even notice, a soft smile on his lips, but the grip is tight. God help anyone who thinks they can come between him and his family.

Because Geto Suguru might be soft with you, but for everyone else?

He’s still a damn curse user.

Nanami Kento

If there’s any man built for family life, it’s Nanami. Sure, he’s stoic. Composed. A man of few words. But when it comes to his child? Dear god, he is so soft. He loves them in a way that feels fundamental, as natural as breathing. Loves you even more for giving him something so precious. He doesn’t say it often, but it’s in every glance, every touch, every sigh of appreciation when he looks at you holding his child.

And when he holds them? He feels whole.

He savors every little moment, tiny fingers reaching for his glasses, drooly kisses pressed against his cheeks as he spoon-feeds them baby food. And no matter how messy they get, no matter how much mashed-up fruit ends up on his tie (his good tie, at that), he never complains. He just exhales, wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, and murmurs, "You're a messy little thing, aren’t you?" before pressing a kiss to their forehead, regardless of the applesauce smeared across it.

Because for Nanami, this, his family, his home, the life he’s built with you, this is everything.

Nanami is an early riser. He always has been. But the difference now? He no longer rushes out the door and only lives for his work.

Instead, he takes his time.

Tends to wake up before you, slipping out of bed with careful movements so he doesn’t disturb you. The first thing he does is check on your little one—peering into their crib, watching their tiny chest rise and fall with soft, even breaths. It’s the only time he allows himself to just stand there, quietly admiring, drinking in the sight of the most important thing in his world.

If they stir, if they so much as whimper, he’s immediately reaching down, scooping them up with ease, holding them against his chest as he rubs slow circles on their back.

"It’s alright, little one. I’ve got you."

Mornings are meant to be spent slowly, feeding them breakfast (with a bib, he learned his lesson the hard way), wiping their tiny hands clean, and carrying them in one arm as he makes coffee with the other. If you’re still asleep, he lets you stay that way, keeping the house quiet, and making sure you get as much rest as possible. Because Nanami knows better than anyone, that being a parent is exhausting. And if he can shoulder some of the weight for you? He will.

Nanami isn’t possessive. Not in the way that Gojo or Geto might be.

But is he protective? Absolutely.

Taking his kid to the park is a mission. He doesn’t hover, per se, but he’s always watching. Sitting on a bench, arms crossed, eyes locked in. The second his child starts running a little too fast? He’s standing. Someone else’s kid gets a little too rough? He’s walking over. And if his child falls? He gives them a second—just one—to see if they’ll get up on their own. But the moment he hears a wobbly inhale, sees that little lip start to tremble—he’s already there. Kneeling beside them, checking them over with careful hands, murmuring, “You’re alright, sweetheart. Just a little scrape.” And then, with the gentlest look in his eyes:

"Do you want to keep playing, or do you need a hug first?"

(They always choose the hug.)

Nanami adores you. But not in a loud way. Not in the way that Gojo teases or the way Geto smothers. No, Nanami loves you in a way that feels steady. Like safety. Like home. Always makes sure you eat first, even if it means letting his food get cold. Takes care of the night feedings if you’re too exhausted. Rubs your shoulders when you look tense, presses a kiss to the back of your hand just because.

And when the baby’s asleep? That’s your time. Some nights, it’s just the two of you sitting in quiet conversation, his hand resting over yours, thumb rubbing absentmindedly against your skin. Other nights, he just holds you, silent, warm... present. When the exhaustion is heavy in your bones, when you sigh in a way that sounds just a little too much like overwhelmed, he cups your face, tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze.

"You’re doing an incredible job," he tells you, because if anyone deserves to be reassured, it’s you, and god help anyone who dares to make you doubt it.

Ryomen Sukuna

In a modern AU, if anything could fix Ryomen Sukuna, it would be a child. Not that the kid was planned, of course. But the moment he sees them—tiny, fragile, utterly defenseless—something inside him shifts. He won’t admit it, won’t say it outright, but watching his newborn slobber all over his hand while teething? Yeah, he crumples inside.

At first, he’s clueless. He’s never had to be gentle before. His hands, powerful and ruthless, were never meant for something so delicate. You have to show him how to hold them properly, how to support their head, how to not look at them like they’re a fragile piece of glass about to shatter.

And does he complain? Oh, absolutely. But he listens, he's trying.

Modern AU Sukuna is absolutely a CEO. And not just any CEO, a powerful, slightly (or very) corrupt one. The kind of man that has everyone terrified to breathe wrong in his presence. Yet, despite his intimidating reputation, there are certain days when his employees come to work to find something... unbelievable. Their ruthless, cutthroat boss—Ryomen Sukuna—sitting at the head of a massive conference table, looking utterly unbothered as his baby naps against his chest in a tiny carrier.

The first time it happened, his employees did not know how to react. The sight of their terrifying boss with a wobbly-headed infant suckling on his tie was so surreal that no one dared to acknowledge it. They just continued their meeting in absolute silence, stealing panicked glances at one another, unsure whether laughing would get them fired, killed, or both.

Sukuna however, oh, he knows what they’re thinking. He can feel the tension in the room, the way no one is making eye contact with him. So naturally, he makes it worse.

"If any of you wake them up," he drawls, voice dark and smooth, "I’ll fire you on the spot." Cue nervous sweating from every executive in the room. Despite his threats, you know he does this because he wants to give you a break. Of course, he acts like it’s no big deal, grumbling about how "You never shut up about needing rest, woman. If bringing the brat to work gives me some damn peace at home, then so be it."

(The truth is that he secretly enjoys it. The small weight of his child against him, the quiet little snores, the way their tiny fingers sometimes curl around his thumb mid-nap. Yeah… he might actually like this fatherhood thing.)

At home, Sukuna tries to maintain his usual cold, indifferent demeanor. But it’s hard when he’s got a wobbly toddler clinging to his leg, looking up at him with your eyes, babbling nonsense like he’s the most important person in the world.

Obviously, he can’t just ignore them. "Tch. What do you want, brat?" (Picks them up anyway)

You catch him napping on the couch with the baby on his chest, one hand protectively covering their back. If you so much as mention it, he glares at you like you’ve just committed treason. Bath time? He claims he hates it, but somehow, he’s always the one washing their hair, grumbling under his breath about how “You’re doing it wrong” as he takes over. If they cry? He’s terrible at comforting, but god forbid anyone else try to step in. That’s his kid, he’ll figure it out himself.

He’s not soft, he insists. Not in the way Nanami or Geto might be. But when he tucks them into bed at night, sitting on the edge of their tiny mattress, watching their little chest rise and fall…something inside him settles. Suddenly realized he’d burn the entire world to the ground for them.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #ryoumen sukuna #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk drabble #jjk fluff #Tw: babies

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mocchiixxx · 27 days ago

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🐶 Lost & Found

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Romance

Kim Mingyu x Reader

Summary: Mingyu loses his tiny girlfriend in the crowded streets of Seoul and dramatically “rescues” her by lifting her into the air like a lost child. Embarrassed and annoyed, she scolds him, threatening to buy a baby leash. Playful banter and heartwarming chaos ensue.

Mingyu liked to think of himself as a responsible boyfriend. He held your hand in crowded places, kept a protective arm around your shoulders, and made sure you always walked on the inner side of the sidewalk.

But today? Today, he failed.

One second, you were by his side, happily munching on tteokbokki. The next? Gone.

Mingyu froze in the middle of the bustling street, his long legs rooted to the ground. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “Babe?” His head swiveled left and right, scanning the sea of people. “Babe?!”

No answer.

A sinking realization hit him. He lost you. In the wild. Of Seoul.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself. “I lost my tiny girlfriend.”

His brain went into overdrive. Was this how parents felt when they lost their kid in the mall? Was he about to get a "missing person" announcement over the loudspeakers? Would he have to make Have You Seen This Girlfriend? posters?

Then, finally— he spotted you.

There you were, right in the middle of the crowd, struggling for dear life.

Your tiny frame was completely swallowed by taller people, your arms awkwardly pinned to your sides. You tried tiptoeing to look around, but it was zero help, like a bunny stuck in a herd of elephants.

Mingyu slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

But first— rescue mission.

Summoning his inner action hero, he swam through the crowd. “Excuse me! Sorry! Move—oh, sir, I love your jacket—BUT PLEASE MOVE—” He dodged elbows, weaved through confused pedestrians, and parkoured around a baby stroller.

And then— he reached you.

Without hesitation— he slid his hands under your arms and LIFTED YOU HIGH INTO THE AIR.

Like a dad picking up his excited toddler.

“FOUND YOU!” he announced with the biggest grin.

The people around you stared. A couple giggled. A kid pointed at you like you were an exhibit at the zoo.

Meanwhile, you dangled mid-air, horrified.

“GYUUU, PUT ME DOWN—”

“Not until you admit you got lost,” he teased, holding you effortlessly.

You kicked your legs. “I didn’t get lost— you lost me!”

He gasped dramatically. “No way! You’re saying I, Kim Mingyu, am the irresponsible one?”

“Yes! Now put me down before I—”

“Before you what?” he smirked. “Before you struggle helplessly in the big scary world?”

You glared at him. “Before I ban you from cuddling for a week.”

Mingyu froze. Oh no.

Slowly, gently, he placed you back on the ground.

The moment your feet touched the pavement, you smacked his chest. “Next time, hold my hand tighter.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said solemnly, grabbing your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“…And if you lose me again,” you added, “I’m buying one of those baby leashes.”

Mingyu grinned. “Ooo, can it be pink with sparkles?”

You sighed. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He squeezed your hand.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go. And for the rest of the night, Mingyu made sure your tiny self never left his sight again.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #seventeen carat #carat #svt carat #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fanfic #mingyu seventeen #mingyu #kim mingyu #Tall Mingyu x short reader

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heyimkana · 8 days ago

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Waking up to your yandere!fiancée Sung Jinwoo

This is a deleted scene from Limerence but can be read separately. It's basically just Jinwoo showing how much of a red flag he is and reader (colorblind af) thinking that he's just roleplaying 😌💀

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: YANDERE, smut, fluff

Content Warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex, choking, swearing

Word Count: 4K

Waking up to Sung Jinwoo’s heavenly features was God’s greatest gift.

Sunlight streamed golden through the window, adorning every slope and rise of his muscles with an angelic glow. His strong arms were wrapped around your body, protective even in his sleep.

You took a moment to admire, adoring him with your heart fluttering fondly as your eyes absorbed every detail. He looked like a dream. He felt like a dream even as you trailed your fingertips over his features, reveling in the smoothness of his skin. His hair was adorably tousled, his eyelashes long enough to brush against his cheekbones. He was still nude beneath the sheets, his upper body bare and exposed, giving you the perfect view of the scratches you had left along his spine and the searing passion you had drowned yourselves in just a few hours before.

Jinwoo seemed so vulnerable like this, but only because with you, he found the chance to be. You were the serenity that allowed him to return to his roots, to let him be the little boy who was not yet aware of the burden the world would place on his shoulders, of the power he’d be bestowed upon. And that little boy, without fail, always sought for your affection, yearning for your undivided attention, and it made you feel wanted. Needed. Loved and desired.

You rolled to your stomach, propping yourself on your elbows as you pressed a light kiss on his shoulder. Carefully, you slipped away from his embrace, wanting to freshen yourself before he stirred awake.

Jinwoo groaned, the sound low and hoarse, murmuring your name in his sleep. “Don’t go…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, carding your fingers through his hair. He let out a blissful sigh at your touch, perhaps even a purr, falling back to sleep with his lips slightly curving up in the sheer happiness of having you there.

He’s so cute, you pondered to yourself, almost like a child. Giving him another soft kiss on his forehead, you climbed down the bed, your naked body sore after hours of being bitten, folded, and bent over.

“Fuck, he didn’t hold back at all last night, did he?” A painful hiss fled your lips as you looked down at your body, a territory marked with a very eager, very talented mouth and bottomless passion. Then again, I told him not to hold back, you giggled as the memory of you begging him to go faster, harder, came to your recollection. Seeing all his marks on you gave you a sense of pride and euphoria, and honestly, you wouldn’t have minded if they lasted forever. You belonged to Sung Jinwoo, and he belonged to you—only to you. What woman wouldn’t be proud of that?

Despite wanting the same, your fiancée was always considerate not to indulge his greed. He never left his lovebites in places other people could see. No matter how much the beast inside him wanted to, he chose to put a collar around himself and placed the leash in your hand. He’d only ruin you when you gave him permission to.

“God, I want to marry him,” you uttered aloud with a yearning sigh as you made your way to the bathroom.

You returned a little while later, your body adorned by the silky nightgown he nearly tore apart the night before. His lids slowly fluttered open at your movements, hazy with sleep. Jinwoo was gorgeous; even with his hair all disheveled and his eyes bleary, he remained the loveliest thing you’d ever seen. His pretty smile broke on his lips, slowly and softly, the second he found your face.

“Hey, Angel…”

No sound on earth was more pleasing than his voice in the morning, except perhaps the sweet moans and the subdued whimpers that rang through your ears when he released himself inside you. The rasp in his husky voice, how it vibrated nicely in the air in the form of the sweetest purr… His voice was the song the heavens created to bless your ears.

“Hey, handsome,” you slithered back under the covers, sliding closer to him. “You slept like a baby.”

“Mm. Someone wore me out last night.”

“I wonder who that was,” you tittered.

Jinwoo drowsily smiled, thankful he could hear your sweet sounds so early in the morning. “Come here.” He brought you back to his embrace, wrapping his arms around you again like he did every night. It was the only way he could fall asleep, with your body pressed flush against him, your warmth seeping into his pores. “Why did you move away? I was holding you before.”

“I’m sorry.” Your arms slid up and down his biceps, kissing the protruding muscle. “I went to brush my teeth.”

“Next time, don’t bother. I want to wake up with you in my arms.” He pulled you close, sighing in contentment at the contact. “Mmm… You’re so warm.” His hand drifted down your nightgown, following the contour of your spine, his touch reverent. “And soft...” His fingertips traced the skin underneath, roaming until they settled on the dip of your neck, lifting your face for him to marvel upon. “And beautiful…” He sighed, almost dreamily. “How did I get so lucky to find a woman like you?”

You chuckled, “Feeling grateful today, aren’t we?”

“I’m grateful every day, Angel. For every second of my life that I spent with you.”

“And a little cheesy.”

He scrunched his nose in response, which you kissed with your giggle reverberating right after.

“What time do you have to leave for work today?” Jinwoo asked, tugging you close enough for him to settle his chin on your head.

“Hmm…” You drew your name on his chest with your digits, not knowing that he’d already had it carved in his heart from the first day he met you. “In less than an hour, I think?”

Nuzzling his nose against your strands, he hummed, “Mm. I’ll call in late for you.”

You chortled quietly, answering his embrace with another. You drowned yourself in his warmth, in his sweet scent, your heart full of never-ending affection.

“It still feels like a dream to me,” Jinwoo murmured, “that I can wake up to you like this every day. To hear your voice the first thing in the morning… to see your face… to feel your body pressed against mine…” He returned the small distance between you to meet your eyes, his fingers tracing the apple of your cheek as devotion filled his gaze. “I’m the happiest man in the world.”

Moments like this made you feel like you owed the deities your soul for bringing him into your life. Unsure of how to convey that into words, you leaned in to present him with a kiss. Your lips just barely grazed his when he suddenly pulled away. “I haven’t brushed my teeth,” he whispered rather sheepishly.

“I don’t care.” You drew him back to you, your lips interlocking, your fingers twisting in his hair.

Jinwoo rolled you to your back, his body hovering close above yours. He kept the kiss chaste and sweet, smiling softly once it ended. “I love you.”

”I love you more.” So, so much more.

To your astonishment, however, the romance in his eyes transformed into something grave as his fingers played with your strands, his eyes glued to your face but not truly looking at you.

“What is it?” you asked, confused by the sudden change of his expression.

He drew a breath. “We’ll always stay like this, right? You and me?”

Hearing a hint of nervousness in his voice, you couldn’t help but tease. “If you want me to.”

“I’ll want you forever, Angel, you know that,” he replied with all his heart, his feelings too intense to reciprocate your jest with another. “There’s not a day that I don't need you in my life.”

You kissed the inside of his palm. “Then maybe forever I’ll stay.”

“You’ll never… leave me?”

“I’ll never leave you.” Your heart thawed. The slight tremble in his voice reminded you of that of a child frightened to bid his mother goodbye. “Why, Jin? What’s the matter?”

He turned hushed. Your words were crystal clear, and he could etch them in his chest, but for some reason, he needed more. Some kind of proof, a reassurance. “Will you promise me that?”

"Promise you?" Although it felt exciting to be so wanted, you always loved it better when he became desperate for you. “What, you don’t trust me? Do I need to spell—”

The sudden grasp of his fingers around your wrists instantly washed your mischievous grin away. He pinned you down to the bed, his grip far from hurting but firm enough to deliver his message. He was not taking this matter lightly, and neither should you.

“I want you to promise me,” Jinwoo repeated solemnly, almost like a harsh demand. “I want you to mean every single word you say when you tell me you’ll never leave me.”

The intensity in his stare, his touch, his voice… It burned you. However, the moment your eyes met, the flame turned subdued, as if the astonishment in your eyes doused it a little. The pressuring tone in his voice switched to pleading as he brought your wrist closer to his face, kissing you above your pulsating vein. “Please, Sweetheart…? I need to hear you say it for me…”

And when a man, more powerful than the Gods, shed his armor to show the frail pieces of him only for your eyes to see, how could you not grant such a request? “I promise,” you said without a doubt, without a second of hesitation, with all the fragments of your soul you could offer. “I promise never to leave you. I promise that I’ll stay here with you forever.”

His lips momentarily parted in surprise at your vow before he tautened them again, bowing as profound joy rippled through him. Jinwoo breathed a relieved sigh, cradling your face as his lips grazed your cheek. “I love you.” Your jawline. “I love you.” Your neck. “I love you so much.” He settled a lingering kiss above your heart, one that beat only for him. “My sweet girl… You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. The only one I can ever love.”

You squirmed; his lips felt ticklish and electrifying on your skin. As his hands and mouth continued to roam, the primal need for his touch returned, swelling rapidly within you. “Jinwoo…”

“I know, love.” His mouth was hot and wet against your sweet spot, the soft flesh of your neck tugged gently between his teeth. “Let me return the favor this time. Tell me, how do you want me?”

Everywhere. I want you everywhere on my body. Your lips. Your hands. I want your cock inside me, but before that—

“Your mouth,” you breathlessly replied. “I want your mouth on me.”

He nearly moaned at your request, elated that you asked him to do what he’d been craving the most.

You sighed in rapture, your body being pleasured once again, inch by inch. You arched your back as he kissed his way down your navel, your tongue wetting your lips as you watched him part open your legs.

“Right here?” Jinwoo asked with a rasp in his voice, his fingers gently caressing your heat, his mouth sucking another bruise on your inner thigh, so dangerously close to your core, you could already feel his breath on you.

You chewed on your lip, nodding.

He wasted no time, diving his head low, prying your folds apart with his thumbs before he darted out his tongue and licked you from your entrance to your clit. “Fuck,” you moaned, your body contracting as the sensation of his mouth closing around your nub washed over you. “God, baby—” Your hand settled on his head, grabbing a handful of his locks to keep him still as you bucked your hips forward, causing him to groan as he plunged his tongue deeper inside you. “Your mouth feels so good.”

He moaned softly, loved being praised by you. His grip tightened around your thighs as he sucked at your most sensitive spot, lapping every drop of essence that seeped out of you like an obedient dog. His eyes turned half-lidded, drunk in the taste of you, appearing so differently than the way they stared at you before when he demanded you to state your promise.

Promise, huh..? “Hey, Jin,” you started, still slowly grinding against his face. “Out of curiosity, what would happen to me if I—ngh—broke my promise?”

He stopped for a second, his lids flickering open, and then it returned, the glimpse of darkness you saw glinting in his eyes before. Jinwoo broke away from you, his thumb replacing his tongue as he collected his composure, rubbing it firmly against your clit. “You’re gonna leave me?”

You shuddered at his tone, how it altered the air between you with only one question. He pressed his thumb further against your bud as his two other fingers slid inside, wedged tightly between your walls. You writhed, his touch rougher than before, so intense you could almost feel his nails scraping against your walls. “H-hypothetically speaking.”

“Hypothetically speaking,” he repeated with a scoff. “Hypothetically speaking, Sweetheart, you’ll be punished.” He scissored his fingers inside, stretching you apart, no mercy in his smile.

“How—” Your soft whimper interrupted you, your body flinching under his ministrations. “H-How will I be punished?”

A new kind of thrill suffused him to the brim, his eyes gleaming at your curiosity. “Oh, your punishment would be severe, Angel.” His silvery voice soothed you as his words set you ablaze. There was a hint of playfulness there, which swept your fear away. He knew you simply wanted to tease him, so he played along. What was left inside you then was only excitement, born from every word he spoke. “I would make sure you knew exactly what happens when you even consider leaving me. You’d be kept close to me, watched at all times. You wouldn’t even be able to leave my sight without my permission. You’d be completely under my control every second of your life.”

It scared you how much it adrenalized you in the most wonderful way, his lines taking you to places your mind never dared to wander. You enjoyed it, this little performance he displayed. Jinwoo had always been nothing but a sweet, tender lover to you. Seeing him take a sadistic role for the sake of indulging your fantasy was a nice change. “You think you have the heart to do that?”

“Oh, honey,” he chuckled deeply, placing his mouth on you once more, his tongue swirling sinfully inside. “I can be whatever you want me to be. I can give you pleasure,” he purred against your soaking cunt, the vibrations making you squirm. “I can give you pain.” You quivered, your hand pushing his head further to your core, silently begging for more. “I can give you fear if that’s what you desire.” He let his teeth graze your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your streams. “So, don’t tease me too much, Sweetheart. You don’t know what I'm capable of.”

There was a subtle threat in his tone, and you fucking loved it. You wanted it. You wanted it all. You wanted to see just how far he’d cross his own limits for you.

“But, of course,” Jinwoo brought your thigh closer to him, guiding you to wrap your legs tighter around his head. “This is only hypothetical.” He stroked your skin before he planted a soft kiss there, his cheek nuzzling against your inner thigh. “Because you'll never leave me”—something changed in his eyes, a certain glint in his cobalt blues that stunned your heart—“isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

You couldn’t yet fathom what was written in his gaze, but it felt… unnerving. He was completely immersed in his role, so much so that you wondered if he wasn’t acting at all. That there was truly a part of him that wanted to keep you tied up to the bed, used solely as a toy for his pleasure.

You wished it were true. You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?

Your filthy pipe dreams, combined with his talented mouth, brought you closer to the edge. And you would’ve crossed it had he stayed still between your legs, his tongue fucking you until all the knots in your stomach loosened at once. But he didn’t. Jinwoo moved away right when you needed him the most, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip, tasting the sliver of your essence as he returned to you.

You whined in protest, frowning as you watched him crawl up your body. “Why did you stop—”

“I asked you a question.” His tone, gentle yet intimidating, led to goosebumps breaking on your skin. The hunter hovered above you domineeringly, staring down at you as if you were his prey. “And I demand an answer.”

God, he sounds so sexy when he’s like this. “Of course, darling, I’ll never leave you. But…” Your lips tilted into a smirk. “I can’t deny there’s a part of me that wants to try, just to push your buttons and see how far you’ll go.” You angled your head slightly to the side, exposing the column your neck, your gaze painted over with allure. “Being punished like that isn’t so bad. Especially by you.”

“Is that so?” He showcased a nefarious smile, his face sinking into the crook of your neck. “I fear you’re playing a dangerous game, Sweetheart.”

“But that’s my favorite one to play, you know that.” You granted him more access to your skin, your eyebrows adjoined in the middle as he sucked an angry bruise on your collarbone. “So, indulge me, Jin,” you sighed out. “What would you do if I ran away?”

“I’ll hunt you down.” He felt you shiver under him, your body burning up quickly as excitement pumped through your veins. “I'll search the whole world for you to make you mine again.”

“Search the whole world for me, huh?” You forced out a breathy chuckle, your fingers threading through his hair as his mouth suckled on your breast. “But what if I’m very good at hiding? What if I—ngh, yes, right there—keep running away from you just to make it interesting?”

He drew his mouth away with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his lip to your nub before he ran his tongue over it. “Oh, there will be no escaping me, Sweetheart,” Jinwoo smirked, his voice dense with confidence and arrogance. “But I’ll let you try your best. I love watching you struggle, after all. I love it when you get desperate for me.”

I guess that’s why we’re a match made in heaven. Because I love seeing you act that way, too. The sadistic glow in your eyes rivaled his own. “And what are you going to do to me once you catch me? You’ll have me locked up?”

“And tied up, if I had to.” The feelings of his lips traveling to your ear, his hot breath skimming across your lobe, his tongue sliding against your shell—everything filled your senses at once. “I’ll have you bound to my bed, and I’ll claim you any chance I get. Every day, every hour, every minute I’m awake, I’ll have my cock buried deep inside you, my teeth on your skin, my fingers in your mouth. You’d be mine, Sweetheart. Completely and utterly mine.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the vivid image he drew in your mind. Though you were certain he’d never have the heart to do such things to you, the mere thought of being used, controlled, dominated past your boundaries exhilarated you. “That sounds… exciting, actually.”

“Oh, I’ll make it so, Angel.” His hand glided up your thigh, his nails raking against your flesh. “I’ll make you feel all sorts of pleasure.” He pushed it forward, spreading your legs wide open for him. “And I’ll give it to you”—he pressed down on you, making sure you understand how much he was throbbing at the thought of ruining you—“Again”—he abruptly pushed hips forward, his cock sliding between your folds—“And again”—the protruding vein underneath his length rubbed against your clit, each thrust harder than before—“and again”—he watched you mewl at the sensation, at how wrecked you look beneath him, wanting so desperately to have him inside you—“until you’d never find the will to leave me again.”

Your hips moved on their own, rocking against him, matching every sway. No matter how much you tried to seduce him, Jinwoo refused to give it to you just yet, not until you understood the consequences of what you wished for. “What if I persist?” you asked between jagged breaths. “You know how stubborn I can be sometimes. Would you hurt me?”

Only then did he stop. He leaned back to stand on his knees, his grip tightening around your thighs as his gaze darkened. “I would never hurt you,” he said, stating it like a vow.

You went still for a moment, stupefied by the sudden sincerity. “Too bad,” you smiled, a little minx disguised as an angel. “I think a little pain could be fun.” Curling your fingers around his wrist, you brought him closer to your neck. “Like this.” You guided him to splay his hand at the front of your throat, letting him feel your vein pulsing beneath his palm. “Wrap your fingers around my neck like this and—” You choked in the middle of your words, his fingers suddenly tautening around your throat, stilling your breath. He was only answering your challenge, doing what you taught him to do, but God, it made you weak, made you realize just how powerless you were beneath the man who could shatter your bones to dust.

Thank God, he promised not to hurt you, right?

You laughed softly, the sound strangled as he continued to hold you by the neck. “I—I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you said, your mouth breaking into a grin. “Never thought someone as gentle as you could choke me like this.”

“Like I said,” he smirked, staring down at you mercilessly. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. If you want your limits to be tested, then I’ll make sure we find out.”

Jinwoo had had his hands around your neck before, but it was always with the intention of possessiveness, never controlling. And this? This excited you. It should’ve terrified you just how rough he was, but no. You loved it. You loved it so much, you could barely recognize yourself.

He could see it, the way pain elevated your arousal, and it delighted him, his eyes gleaming in the temptation to do more, knowing how badly you enjoyed this type of pain. The sweet torture that only he could give. “Too tight, Sweetheart? Should we come up with a safe word?”

“N-no,” you coughed out, not wanting to lose, not yet. “I love it. I want it harder. Give it to me harder.” He did without hesitation, robbing another hiss out of you. "Fuck."

“Careful what you wish for, love,” he warned, bringing tears to the edges of your eyes.

“I know what I wished for.” To his surprise, there was still a spark inside you. You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer to you. “Are you gonna keep talking, or are you gonna fuck me now? Or maybe I should flip us over and ride you like last night. Maybe we should come up with a safe word then 'cause you best believe I’m not gonna let you off easy, Sweetheart.”

He chuckled, impressed by your taunt. He thought you were adorable. “Saying things like that with my fingers wrapped around your neck is a bold move, Angel.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable—” Your sentence ended abruptly in a silent moan when he thrust inside, filling you with everything at once, burying himself so deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

Expletives toppled over your lips as you tossed your head back, feeling so full, so complete, your hands gripping onto the sheets. He fucked you slow, then fast, then slow again, throwing you off your rhythm, filling you with frustration, all the while keeping his hand on your neck. It doubled the tension, doubled the pleasure. The sense of danger was always there, like he could crush you any moment, and it was so, so damn thrilling that you fell into regret for not asking him to do this sooner.

“Fuck,” he groaned through clenched teeth, his head hanging low as his body caged you inside. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Fucking you rough and deep—he could make you come just like that, you knew it. But then, seeing how close you were, Jinwoo pulled himself out entirely, choosing to squeeze his cock between your folds, sliding back and forth on the bundle of nerves, instead of stretching your walls apart.

“Jinwoo—” Your nails clawed against his wrist as your legs wound tightly around his hips. You pulled him down toward you, wanting nothing more but for him to bury himself to the hilt again. “Don’t tease me—”

“Tell me what you want, then.”

He was messing with you, a sight you rarely saw, as he was always determined to make you reach cloud nine as fast as he could. Mischief looked perfect on him, and as much as you wanted to witness it longer, your need for him was starting to grow painful. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

Though elated, he was far from satisfied. “More, Angel. Do your best.”

Fuck having him punished you. I’m going to punish you later for this. “Jinwoo, please! I need you to fuck me, please!”

That was it. That was the kind of desperation he wanted to see. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He chuckled near your ear, “You look the prettiest when you’re begging for my cock, you know that?”

Your walls clenched tightly around his throbbing length as a forbidden kind of pleasure burst through your system, feeling burned in the most exciting way. “Hard,” you breathed out, your throat dry. “I need you to fuck me hard, Jin.”

He felt like a king, owning the world in his hands. “Where’s your manners?”

“Please,” you said as tears glazed your eyes. “Please give it to me harder.”

Perfect rows of marbled teeth peeked from behind a wolfish grin. “Good girl.”

He lived up to your words. Every sway of his hips, every drive of his cock inside you was everything that you desired and more. You couldn’t scream his name as loudly as he wanted you to, your throat still strangled to produce anything louder than a whimper. But he relished the sight, nevertheless. If anything, he looked even more excited.

You felt it building, one wave of pleasure after another, ready to crash and drown you like the ocean. “Close, Sweetheart?” he asked, and you gave a shaky nod, biting your lip.

When you were put in a similar situation the night before, your body tensing as your orgasm approaching quickly, Jinwoo had sweetly kissed your temple and whispered, “Come for me, sweet girl. Let yourself go for me.”

But right now…

“I’m gonna make it clear for you, Sweetheart, so I’ll say it again,” he said amidst heavy breaths, almost in a growl as his teeth grazed against your ear. “If you try to run away from me, I’ll wrap my hands around you again, just like this.” He tightened them slightly to paint a picture for you, the added pain nearly sending you over the edge. “And I’ll keep you here with me.” His tongue traced the contour of your ear, his smirk dark and sinful as he made an oath of his own. “And I’ll fuck you like this, the way you want me to. I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll only remember my name. And I'll keep fucking you until you stop wanting anything else, but me.”

He proved his words by snapping his hips roughly against yours, causing your vision to turn white. Your orgasm shook you to your core, your strength leaving you almost immediately as he continued to chase after his own high. As your body turned pliant beneath his, Jinwoo pried his hand away from your neck, choosing to slip his fingers between your own. His gesture romantic, a complete opposite of how he was a second ago.

“I’ll have you trapped in my arms, Angel,” he promised as your lids turned heavy. The feeling of his lips caressing your knuckles was the last thing you felt before your unconsciousness slipped away.

“Forever.”

*** AN: I was going to include this in part 2 at first but I feel like it's too long and I don't want to drag the story any further than I already do LOL but throwing this scene away feels like a waste too so idk have your weekly dose of yandere!jinwoo ig 😌

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pejite · 8 months ago

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Hi! Today, I’m sharing a list of mods that I consider essential for playing historical gameplay in The Sims.

I often have friends who want to dive into the Decades Challenge but aren’t sure which mods to use or where to start. So, in this post, I’m going to share the mods I personally use and think are indispensable for creating that authentic historical experience.

Deaderpool's MC Command Center: This mod allows you to manage and modify many aspects of your game, including handling pregnancies, university careers, and enabling teen relationships so your Sims can marry earlier, among other features. You can also enable autosave and adjust the length of a Sim day.

Lumpinou's RPO: This mod enhances relationship dynamics and expands pregnancy features. It's extensive, with many modules, and once you've tried it, you won't want to play without it.

Pandasama's Realistic Childbirth: Offers multiple realistic childbirth options, including natural bed births and spontaneous labour, adding depth to your Sims' family lives.

MizoreYukii's Arranged Marriages: Allows you to arrange marriages for convenience. Parents can agree on marriages for their children, but breaking the arrangement won’t be easy.

Necrodog's Carriages and Horses: Adds functional carriages, enhancing immersion. While it doesn't work with the horses of Horse Ranch pack, it’s still incredibly useful.

Kuttoe's Enlist in War: It will allow your Sims to enlist in the war. Whether they live or die will be random, but if they survive, they'll receive the Veteran trait, a lifetime pension and some lasting traumas.

JaneSimsten's Regency Romance: Perfect for simulating the Regency era. It adds class differences, property ownership, etiquette skills, new traits and careers, events, and widowhood. Though inspired by the Regency era, it works well for later decades too.

SimKatu's Reading Animation Override: Changes the reading animations, with different ones for men and women, making your Sims’ reading time more immersive.

Zero's Deadly Dickensian Sicknesses: Introduces the risk of diseases like Tuberculosis, Typhoid Fever, and Cholera. It’s incredibly realistic with its contagion system.

Adeepindigo's Healthcare Redux: A comprehensive health mod that adds various illnesses and treatments, including tuberculosis and (early access) cancer. While Sims can buy modern medicines, many illnesses can be cured with natural remedies.

Adeepindigo's Simulated Endings: This mod will enhance everything related to your Sims' deaths, allowing them to take out life insurance and designate beneficiaries, arrange funeral preparations, and introduce stages of grief for your Sims.

MizoreYukii's Functional Broom: Adds a functional broom with its own animation, letting you keep your Sims’ homes clean without resorting to modern vacuums.

Triplis's Quit or Join School: In case you need your teens or childs to quit school.

The Kalino's Farm Animal Set: Expands your farm with more animals, including goats, sheep, ducks and more, in addition to the standard cows and chickens.

JaneSimsten's Write With Quills: Replaces your Sims' pens with quills, adding a touch of historical accuracy.

JaneSimsten's Sidesaddle Override: Allows female Sims to ride horses sidesaddle, as they would have in the past.

JaneSimsten's Parchment Computer: Replaces modern computers with parchment and quills, complete with their own animations—perfect for pre-typewriter eras.

Frankk's Language Barriers: More realism to sims being from different worlds.

Rs4ella's 1920s Grade School Homework Override: Changes the look of the kids' homework book to a 1920s style, but it works well for earlier periods too.

Xbrilliantsims's Toddler Bathtime Overrides: Replaces modern bath toys and sponges with more era-appropriate items when bathing toddlers.

Lunamoth's Historical Infant Carriers: Swaps out modern baby carriers for fabric slings, suitable for any historical era.

Lunamoth's Rope Pet Leash: Replaces the modern pet leash with a simple rope, making it look more appropriate for historical gameplay.

300yearschallenge's Historical Baby Bath Override: Changes the baby bath seat to a more suitable design, or you can opt for

Sassymissollie's Invisible Infant Bath Seat to remove it entirely.

JaneSimsten's 5 Day Work Week: Choose Your Own Work Hours: Lets you adjust your Sims' work schedules for a more realistic experience.

JaneSimsten's Marksmanship Skill: Adds a marksmanship skill, allowing your Sims to practise shooting and hunting, with the hunted animals available for cooking.

Littlbowbub's Ye Olde Cookbook: Enables your Sims to cook historical dishes, perfect for low-income Sims in older settings.

Basemental's Basemental Drugs: Although mainly known for adding drugs, it’s commonly used for its smoking features, letting your Sims smoke cigarettes and cigars like a proper Victorian gentleman.

MizoreYukii's Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything: Allows your child Sims to die, useful if your storyline requires it.

Ayoshi's Phone to Notebook Replacement Mod: If phone elimination mods are causing issues, this mod might help. It replaces the mobile phone with a small notebook, which could pass for a mini Bible or an old-fashioned notebook.

JaneSimsten's Extra Cross-Stitch Patterns: Adds historically accurate cross-stitch patterns.

#thanks to all the mods creators!! <3 #ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 mods #ts4 mods #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge

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hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 3 months ago

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Agatha: Rio?

Rio: Yes my love?

Agatha: What do you have there?

Rio: An ice cream?

Agatha: What’s next to the ice cream?

Rio: Oh! You mean the small child

Agatha: Yes I mean the small child!

Rio: She’s an orphan

Agatha: Why do you have an orphan Rio?

Rio: She made friends with Nicky at the park and she said she don’t want to go back to the orphanage because the nuns are scary so I said she could come and live here

Agatha: This is one of the most fucked up things you’ve ever done!

Rio: Hey woah! Language Agatha she’s only young

Agatha: She needs to go back to the orphanage Rio they’ll be looking for her

Rio: She said they just let her walk out and they weren’t looking for her

Agatha: But they’ll probably notice soon-

Small child: It’s been 3 days

Agatha: What?

Small child: They watched me leave and let me go

Agatha’s heart breaking: Oh, oh okay well yeah you can stay here a little bit I guess, tell me your name though I don’t want to keep calling you small child

Small child: I’m Nicky and thank you! *runs off to play with Nicholas

Agatha: She’s called Nicky?

Rio: Yep!

Agatha: So now we have Nicky and Nicky

Rio: It’s great right?!

Agatha: You’re never allowed to go outside without me again

Rio: awe damn okay, but can you not put the leash on me again

Agatha: Do you promise not to run off?

Rio:…..bring the stupid leash

Agatha: Okay, now I’ve got to make dinner for two children, I hope she’s okay with us being witches

Rio: She already likes my death form

Agatha: Jesus Christ

#marvel #mcu #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel imagine #marvel au #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agathario #agatha x lady death #nicky scratch #nicolas scratch #nicholas scratch #agatha all along incorrect quotes

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madaqueue · 7 months ago

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TEAR MY FLESH, HOLD MY HAND, FEEL MY WARMTH

the weight that lies in a pinky promise

pairing: suguru geto x gn!reader

themes/content: curse/canon au. fluff, angst. mentions of fights/difficult childhood. (wk: 3.2k)

a/n: this was originally gonna be for flufftober but it got a lil angsty teehee so here we are :) also the mouse on my computer stopped working so i did all this formatting on my phone bc i'm that dedicated to serving you guys this fic

Suguru was a soft child. Chubby hands, round cheeks, gentle steps.

He was sweet in all the ways a child ought to be, at least according to your parents - sweet in all the ways you weren’t.

You, on the other hand, were loud, jarring, unreserved. “A handful,” you were always described as by those who attempted to care for you. Perhaps that’s why they allowed you such a great extent of freedom, tugging against the length of a leash they tried to place around you, but they’d need stronger chains to tie you down.

And yet, you and Suguru found your similarities - you were both unencumbered by expectations. I am who I am. In spite of everyone, in spite of the ways they tried to dig their tight hands around you and force you into something you weren’t. You are who you are.

The first time you met him, all you saw were tiny feet kicking the air, unable to reach the ground from where he perched upon the park bench. He was the only one not screaming, something you appreciated, something novel. Your life had held such chaos, constant arguments, slamming doors. The peace that wrapped around his small frame seemed to exude a comfort you craved, even if it couldn’t be articulated by your six-year-old mind, you were drawn to it. To him.

“Hi,” you chirped, lifting yourself next to him.

“Hi.”

When you grinned widely at him, he returned a thin-lipped smile, as though he had been trained by wild dogs who took eagerness as a threat, who wouldn’t dare snarl unless as a warning.

(He noticed your absence of fear immediately - how could you approach him so easily? Had you not been taught to be wary?)

(You had been taught. “Avoid strangers, they’ll hurt you.” But you would never choose the harm of the monsters you knew. Better to take your chances in the wild.)

Averting your gaze, your dirtied fingernails began absentmindedly picking at the green paint coating the wood beneath your legs. Your eyes landed on his knees, scuffed and bloody.

“Did that hurt?”

Without looking at you, he shakes his head. “No, I’m just clumsy. I fell off my bike.”

“That’s okay,” you hum, “I get bruises all the time. You must be pretty tough if it didn’t hurt.”

And this time, he giggles, crooked teeth poking through. “Anyone can get hurt, it doesn’t make me tough.”

Leaves rustle overhead as you let out a thoughtful sigh, allowing the sounds of the breeze to fill the silence. It’s comfortable, you realize, no tension hanging in the air like there always seems to be at home, no threat looming around the other side of the kitchen counter.

You tug with all the strength your muscles can muster at a large strip of paint. With a final pull, your palm catches along the fraying wood, splinters digging under your flesh as you let out a choked cry.

Immediately, the boy’s small hands wrap around your wrist, pulling it to his face. Worried eyes inspect the wound. “Are you okay?” he asks without looking up.

A small whimper falls from your throat, lower lip trembling as you hold back tears. “Y-yeah,” your voice wobbles.

You’re lying. He knows you’re lying - you aren’t particularly hard to read, he grows to learn, somehow always wearing your heart on your sleeve. It’s a trait he admires (perhaps because he’s never quite able to place his there so visibly).

When he frowns, you almost giggle at the sight - no child should frown like that. It’s endearing, the way his eyebrows furrow, mouth tugged downward.

“Can I make it better?”

It takes very little to make you trust him, but you believe he wouldn’t hurt you. Just as animals seem able to sense intent, an implicit knowledge that the human freeing them from a cage won’t inflict additional pain, you know that his stubby fingers won’t dig at your flesh and make you bleed.

So, you nod.

Determined eyes turn from your visibly pained face to your aching palm. Slowly, he removes the shards of wood from your skin. When you wince, he pauses immediately, waiting for your shoulders to relax before he continues. By the time he’s finished, your bottom lip is red from biting into it but the pain isn’t even noticeable, not when every nerve in your body seems focused on the warmth coming from his fingertips still lingering on your wrist.

“There,” he breathes through the softest smile, “all done.”

“Thanks,” and you can’t help but grin back.

“And see!” He’s beaming now. “You were very tough!”

Your laugh is brighter than the sun, more calming than the birds chirping overhead, a sound he can’t help but mirror. His desire to cheer you up, to comfort you through it all, makes your cheeks warm.

“I’m Suguru, by the way.”

He opens up easily to you, an honor you don’t quite understand yet. When you introduce yourself, he repeats your name back slowly, the vowels sweet like the flowers blooming nearby. It sounds good in his voice.

A whistle cuts through the humidity, immediately drawing Suguru’s attention.

“I gotta go,” his face draws into that adorable pout again.

“Oh.” Dropping your attention, it falls to your freshly healed hands resting in your lap. “Can you do me a favor?”

Expectant eyes meet yours.

“Promise me I’ll see you again?”

This time, he smiles so wide his cheeks push up into his eyes, crinkling at the corners. Holding out a hand, he gently grasps yours as he intertwines your fingers.

“Pinky promise,” he grins, linking them together with a shake.

Through a giggle, you mimic, “pinky promise.”

He shuffles off the bench, clumsy feet landing on the ground before he hobbles off to the waiting arms of a parent who seems to love him. Your heart aches for a moment before it stills - you’re happy he has someone to take care of him, to pull the splinters from his hands and clean off the scrapes on his knees.

It’s a miracle when you both get placed at Jujutsu Tech. It takes very little for you to abandon the place you called home, having jumped at the first chance to leave your childhood behind, but having Suguru there makes it even easier when you get approached by a strange man with dark hair and glasses who touts himself as the principal of some elusive school a few hours away. They’ll pay for your housing, your food, anything you need to survive for the next four years so long as you agree to train and work for them. It was an easy yes - you would have done more for less.

And of course, there was your so-called “power.” The two of you had danced around the subject for years, hesitantly testing each other’s experiences to not unload worry onto the other. That was the thing about Suguru - he was always looking out for you, and you, him. He never needed to ask if you were thirsty, he’d just bring you tea; you never had to ask if he was lonely, you’d just find him sitting alone on the same park bench.

It was Suguru who finally broke on his thirteenth birthday while the two of you made your way through town, snowflakes hanging in the air.

“Do you ever…see things?” he asked, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket in a futile search for warmth.

From the corner of your vision, you caught the faintest glimmer of fear in his eyes. And you understood immediately.

“Yes.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed, hot breath puffing into the air. “Thank god,” he murmured.

Again, it wasn’t a surprise, per se - the two of you had shared everything. It only seemed natural that you would share this ability to see curses, the monsters hiding in the shadows.

“Do they ever…scare you?” Your voice felt small as you asked - you hadn’t yet reached relief, or at the very least, neutrality towards these things.

And he sees it in you, too - the dread he felt when he first saw them, the pang of terror that shoots up his spine when he catches one moving in the dark. He’s grown more accustomed to their presence, but there’s still that thread of fear lingering, choking him when he gets tangled in it.

“Yes.”

Cold fingers lace through yours, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“But I’ll always keep you safe,” he smiles that sweet, soft smile, “pinky promise.”

The training wasn’t easy. You hadn’t expected it to be, obviously, but fuck was it hard.

Suguru excelled initially, as he did with everything. The others in your small class also show great potential, Satoru in particular, but Shoko’s abilities develop in her own way, too.

It’s nice to finally feel like you have a place where you belong, to have people to return to, people who care about you, who love you. It’s nice to be here, even if it pushes you to your limits everyday, because you know you’ll always have someone to come home to - to know you’ll always have Suguru to come home to.

It hits you on a sunny day in October when you’re watching him spar with Satoru. Fists fly, a mix of black and white flashing across the grass. When Gojo lands a particularly well-timed punch, Suguru’s body lands with a thud in the dirt.

You’re on your feet in less than a second, shoving Satoru out of the way as you stand over the dazed boy on the ground. He looks beautiful like this, you think - his hair splayed out around him, blood trickling from his nose, lips tugged into an awestruck smirk - before you shake the thought aside.

“Are you okay?”

Panicked hands run over his torso, checking for injuries before they land on his face. Cupping his jaw, he can’t help but breathe a laugh at the worry painted across your features. His palms come to rest along your wrists, dark eyes meeting yours.

“I’m okay,” he sighs. Now that you’re here. “I’m tough, remember?”

Every muscle in your body releases tension just at hearing his voice, his calming aura once again blanketing you, bringing you under the warmth of his peace.

With a playful punch to his shoulder, he feigns a dramatic wince. “Just don’t get hurt again, okay?”

He knows it’s impossible - it’s the nature of the job, of the responsibilities he holds. He will be hit and bruised and battered and brought to the brink of death again and again, but right now, that’s not what you need to hear. Because you know it’s impossible too; and you also know Suguru is strong.

“I pinky promise,” he halfheartedly grins. He promises to at least try. For you.

Wrapping your finger around his, you let the heat of your bodies fill the air, vibrating in tune with the cicadas lining the trees. His hand is soft in yours. It feels like coming home - the familiar walk up the steps, the paint on the front door cracking from where palms had rubbed against it time and time again as the handle turned. The wooden floors are worn in with the path you take through each other’s lives, from the kitchen to the living room to the windows, gazing over the backyard.

Suguru had a swingset, you remember. You figured out how to use it the first time you ever sat on the sun-worn rubber, going higher and higher and higher until the toes of your shoes scraped the sky. But Suguru always struggled - he couldn’t quite move his body in the right way to grant him flight. He would get frustrated with it rather easily, until your small hands rested against his back. With a firm push, you set him free into the air, his feet kicking perfectly with all the momentum a child’s body could hold.

Maybe gravity was discovered by children on the playground. There had to be a reason they couldn’t swing forever; there had to be a reason they couldn’t reach the sun.

The problem is, though, that a star’s heat dissipates with distance. It can’t always warm you, not when your feet land back on the ground.

Over the next year, Satoru began going on more missions alone, and Shoko stayed behind to hone her healing, leaving you and Suguru in the purgatory between power and nothingness. And most days, you feel closer to nothing.

It’s eating at him, you realize. The missions, the responsibility, the whole fucking thing is taking bites out of his soul with sharpened teeth and leaving nothing behind but a bloodied mess of torn expectations. It makes him smaller and smaller, pulling pieces of him until there’s nothing left.

You can see it in the way his clothes hang loose on his body. His shoulders slump forward, the shadows beneath his eyes growing darker each night he spends with his gaze locked on the ceiling.

The foundation of his soul is crumbling, the front door barricaded closed. The windows are boarded up. You can’t see your childhood anymore. All the grass in the front yard is dead.

You miss when the sun’s rays shone through him.

You miss when he was warm.

Finding him resting on one of the old benches in the school’s courtyard, it creaks beneath your weight as you sit, the only sound breaking the stagnant silence of the summer air. That’s another thing you’ve noticed - sometimes, Suguru is so quiet you aren’t even sure he exists. If you weren’t here watching his chest rise and fall, could you even prove he was breathing?

He says nothing when you rest your head on his shoulder, not that he needs to, of course. He hasn’t said much lately, mostly responding to everyone else’s overflowing conversations with empty smiles and sad eyes.

You aren’t sure how much longer you can take it.

“Suguru?”

His body doesn’t even shift in response to hearing his name, but you feel his eyes on you even though you can’t see them, your gaze instead focused on your hands resting in his lap. Picking at the skin along your nails, you continue.

“Are you okay?”

He’s grateful you can’t hear the way his heartbeat stutters (because then you’d already have the answer to your question).

“Mhm,” he hums, his lips never parting. You miss the way they used to curl into that childlike grin, it’s been so long since you’ve seen it.

You know he’s lying, but unfortunately, you want to believe him. You want to believe him so badly it feels like you’re trapped underground, buried under your love for him, banging on the floorboards overhead, but there’s no one around to hear. There’s dirt in your lungs and you can’t breathe. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Silently, you hold your hand in front of him, pinky raised in a question.

Would you promise?

On instinct, his own hand lifts from his side. It hovers just inches from yours, but he hesitates. The gap between them grows farther with each second they don’t intertwine, stars pushing one another apart, unable to collide. The steadiness in him wavers for a moment as you watch his fingers shake.

He can’t.

When he collapses into you, everything falls apart. Arms wrap around your frame, hands grabbing fistfuls of your uniform. He clings to you like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from drowning. Because as a child, no one ever taught him how to swim - maybe they didn’t see the point in learning such a useless skill, or maybe they thought they were protecting him. But now, he’s been thrown into relentless waves of grief and with each breath more briney water fills his chest and he’s gasping and scared and he doesn’t know what to do except hold you. The tears falling from his eyes taste like the sea and they burn his throat, but at least for a moment his legs can stop kicking. For a moment, he has someone who can keep him afloat.

Your palms rub slow circles into his back as he cries. The sound is sharp and painful, carving into the still-beating flesh of your heart, but at least it exists. At least he’s here. At least he’s alive.

Placing your lips to the top of his head, you let them rest there as his body shakes.

“It’ll be okay, I’ve got you,” you whisper into his skin, surrounded by small strands of hair pulled loose and warm from the sun. “I promise.”

As things tend to do, they eventually get easier.

You and Suguru talk to the higher ups about changing his schedule, only going on missions with at least one other sorcerer so he’s not doing all the work by himself. They bargain and ultimately even agree to grant him dedicated days off to rest. And finally, you feel as though you’ve been granted your miracle, the scales of fate begrudgingly tipping in your favor.

(If all your pain meant that Suguru’s would be lessened for even a moment you would do it over again a million times. If all your suffering meant that Suguru wouldn’t have to endure it for a second longer, you would suffer for eternity.)

Even as fall returns and the sun shines through the sky less and less, things feel brighter. The two of you find yourselves in the school’s cafeteria making tea every night, and he learns he sleeps better with you in his arms.

When the four of you gather around a picnic table outside to recap your recent assignments, you tell some stupid joke, one that makes Satoru groan and Shoko roll her eyes through a smirk, and you hear it: Suguru laughs. And for a moment, the world stops spinning.

You all exchange glances before turning to face him, his cheeks pushed up and pink, eyes closed in bliss. You can’t contain yourselves as you join him, fits of giggles lilting through the crisp air.

That night, he welcomes you into bed with open arms waiting beneath the covers. His lips are curved into a grin as he places a gentle kiss to your forehead, a newer part of your routine, one that makes your entire body vibrate.

Snuggling against him, the warmth of his chest radiates into your skin, each beat of his heart a welcome melody.

“Hey Suguru?” you murmur.

His voice is laced with sleep as he answers into the darkness, “Yeah?”

“You’re really strong, y’know that?”

Letting out an airy chuckle, he rolls his eyes. “I’m nothing compared to Satoru-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

You can hear the air entering his lungs with each breath. He takes in three before he responds. “I know.”

Long fingers trace circles into the bare skin of your arm.

“Suguru?”

You know what you have to tell him - you’ve been holding it for years, keeping it close to you, carrying its weight through each day until you barely notice it anymore. Maybe it’s the change of the seasons, a different density to the air, but suddenly it has begun to feel heavy in your hands.

“Yeah?”

His hands make their way up your neck until they rest along your cheek, guiding your gaze to him through the dark.

Three breaths in, three breaths out.

“I love you.”

You can’t see him smile, but you feel it. The warmth of his palm leaves your face for a moment until you feel it again along your hand. He intertwines his pinky with yours. “I love you, too.”

#not 100% happy with this one but i've been editing it for a week and if i don't post it now i never will!!!!!!#q writes #oneshot #suguru geto #geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk geto #geto fluff

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littlesoulshine · 4 days ago

Text

intro

that puppy, ugh...you're going to have to chain him up, because does he really think the water will hide him?

does he thinks the steam curling off the mosaic tiles and the hiss of the showerhead will muffle the soft whimpers in his thick throat, the slap of skin on skin as he fists his big cock like a filthy little secret. his forehead’s pressed to the wall, panting. he’s quiet, he’s trying—he’s so fucking desperate. he hasn’t come in a week, and your rules are eating him alive.

but your rules are rules, and for some reason, he breaks them.

you open the bathroom door like you own it, and you hear it the second you walk in. the low moan, all the slick, rhythmic sounds of a man touching what doesn’t belong to him. you’re on him before he even notices. the glass door yanked open, and he jolts, mouth dropping open, eyes wild.

his hand freezes on his cock. “did i say you could do that?”

he stutters, no words, just the look of a dog who knows the leash is coming out.

you reach in and grab him by the wrist, yanking him out of the water like trash. the cold air slaps him in the face. he almost slips on the mat, barely catching himself, hard dick so big it's bouncing on its own and leaking as the rest of him trembles.

“i asked you a question.”

“n-no, baby” he whispers, head down, water droplets sliding off his body. you shove him against the wall, hard enough to make him gasp. you look down at his cock, swollen and twitching. it's disgusting and shameful. he’s lucky you haven’t slapped it yet (even though it will make him cum).

“what do we do to sweet boys who don’t follow rules?” you murmur, leaning in close, lips brushing his ear.

“we…we punish them.” his voice is so small it barely counts as sound.

you cup his balls, firm and unforgiving. his knees bucking as you squeeze—not the sweet 'making him cum squeeze' but a mean squeeze. just enough to make his eyes snap wide, breath hitch. “that’s right. and do you think i’m going to let you cum tonight?”

he whimpers. “please—please, i was just—I needed—”

smack. your palm slaps the tip of his cock. he screams into his own shoulder, teeth bared, and body curling in. it jerks so hard you think he might cum untouched just from that. but he doesn’t. not yet, because he knows you won't let him. “you needed permission. and you didn’t have it.”

he’s nodding, frantic, lips bitten raw.

you drag him to the bedroom by the ear like a child. he doesn’t resist, he just follows, wet footprints on hardwood, and the sound of his shame echoing behind him. you push him down to his knees at the foot of the bed. still dripping and humiliated.

“hands behind your back, baby.” he obeys. “and open your mouth.” he obeys that faster.

you settle into the mattress like a queen preparing for a foot rub. and that’s exactly what he becomes. not a husband or a man. just a warm mouth and a lesson waiting to be learned. you slip one heel off. press your bare foot against his lips.

“you want to touch your cock again?” he nods, eyes wet. you smile, cruel and soft. “then you’re going to earn it. with your tongue. and if you cum without permission?”

your toes slide along his cheek, his breath catches. “i’ll edge you for a month.” he whimpers at your response. you press your foot harder, making him moan. his tongue is out before you even ask.

on his knees, he's soaking wet, hair dripping into his lashes, cheeks red, and mouth open around your foot like it’s his last meal. his cock’s flushed dark and bobbing helplessly, twitching with every breath, leaking like it knows it’s in trouble.

his tongue moves in slow, strokes. “mhm,” you murmur, watching him through lazy lashes, heel tucked under your thigh. “look at you. just a stupid little mutt who can’t go a day without needing to hump something.”

he whines around your toes. mouth wet, eyes glimmering.

you lean forward, spit in your hand, and start stroking him—so slow he sobs. long, cruel pulls from base to tip. not even for him. just to watch him fall apart.

“ma’am—fuck, mommie, i-i’m gonna—i can’t—”

smack. your palm hits his thigh. he jerks, hips lurching, mouth still kissing your foot like it’s sacred.

“you can’t until i say,” you snap, voice low and sharp. “you even think about coming again without permission, i’ll shove your cock in the freezer.”

his head drops, forehead hitting your knee. “i’m sorry—please—please i’ll be good—i swear—”

you push him back, flat on his back like the pathetic mess he is. you climb over him slowly, knees on either side of his face, your bare cunt glistening inches from his mouth.

his breath hitches and his eyes go wide.

“you want to make it up to me? make it to your wife?” he nods so fast it looks painful. “then you’ll keep that mouth busy. and if you even look like you’re getting close?” you glance at his cock, throbbing in the air. “i’ll ruin you so bad you’ll cry every time you get hard.”

you sit, full weight, right on his face.

his moan is muffled under your cunt. tongue eager, sloppy now, desperation leaking out of every pore. you grind down slowly, letting him breathe through your slick, using his nose like a toy. you don’t hold back. because why would you? he doesn’t deserve soft. he deserves to be used. your thighs clamp around his head. you reach down and slap his cock. not too hard though, just enough to remind him it’s yours.

he bucks. his moan is so loud your clit pulses. he begins to cry, tongue trembling, hands still behind his back like you told him. he’s trying so hard to focus on your pleasure, to not think about his own, but he can’t, it’s too good.

you ride his face harder, letting yourself enjoy it, hips rolling, grinding down until your thighs are soaked and his lips are red and raw. you lean forward, panting. “you close, baby?”

he nods frantically, muffled under your cunt.

“don’t you dare.” he whimpers into you as his cock twitches, pulsing, begging to let go. you grab it—tight—and hold it at the base. he thrashes. you don’t let him come yet.

you keep riding his face while you ruin him. stroking him too light, too slow, until he’s trembling, sweating sliding down the sides his temples, lubing the inner parts of your thighs.

you clench around his tongue and cum—grinding down, back arching, moaning loud enough to drown out his begging.

he’s moaning under you, sobbing, cock bobbing helplessly in the air. you let him edge there, cock twitching, balls tight, muscles locked. you reach down again, fingers wrapping around his shaft.

he gasps. “you want to cum, my love?” he nods, eyes wide, wet, desperate. you start stroking him quickly.

“then cum,” you whisper. “but don’t you dare enjoy it.”

he explodes. spilling over your hand, sobbing like it hurts. his whole body spasms—hips bucking, mouth still lapping at you like a good boy while tears spill down his cheeks.

you ride his tongue until he’s done whimpering. you climb off him slowly, standing over his ruined body, watching the way his cum drips down his belly. you wipe your hand on his chest.“next time?” you say, voice like ice. “ask.” he nods, broken, blissed-out. you peck his red lips, and step into the shower. he crawls after you without a word.

special tags: @inbred-eater @faiszt @cherrygirlfriend @nemesyaaa

inspiration ➳ my lovey @rafesplaymate

#my readers ୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☘︎ ݁˖#۶ৎ housewife!reader ۶ৎ #art♡#art࿔१ #art donaldson #challengers #art donalson x reader #art donaldson smut #art #art challengers #art x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #soul’sscribbles𑁍

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f4ggydog · 1 month ago

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Gotta admit, I spent an ungodly amount of time scrolling through your blogs. It’s embarrassing, but you and your anon have so many interesting scenarios. I love how straightforward and engaging your writing is, so… I guess, why not join in?

Imagine Shauna in Season 3—feral and snappy after everything that’s happened, with you as her sane lover. She lashes out at everyone, determined to get her way, but the moment you tell her "no" or "sit down," she obeys—grumbling and huffing—while the others assume you're the dominant one and always tease Shauna about it. Until, of course, she pulls you into the woods, and the only sound that follows is you begging as she proves who’s really in charge.

Off anon because I'm shameless.

omg you don’t know how happy it makes me feel to hear ppl say they scroll through my blog or stalk it like I love it so bad <333 pls always feel free to explore if you wish!! (Listened to vibe by zhane while writing this it has no bearing on this story I just grooved to this song while writing and u should all listen to it)

um minors don’t engage nsfw content mentioned

You had to keep that girl on a leash. You were her leash, to be honest. You were the one who always kept her calm when her emotions turned into a giant tornado. Nobody else could figure out how to tame the beast. But it seemed you had a trick that always worked.

Another fight yet again. This time, Shauna’s on the verge of pushing Mari to the ground and tearing her ear out with her teeth. Taissa and Travis attempt to pull Shauna back, but she manages to shove off both of them. She lunges at Mari, no mercy written in her soul. Then, she hears your voice.

“Shauna, no.” You command her like she’s a dog. And to the surprise of everyone else, she listens. They should expect it. They’ve seen this magic before, but they’re amazed every time. She doesn’t comply without protesting, huffing and puffing and mumbling under her breath while she’s seated. But your directions do end up getting followed. You walk over to her before giving her a kiss on the forehead.

It happens yet again. Another day, Shauna’s in a physical struggle with Nat. Nat’s pushed to the ground and she feels Shauna step on her back. Nat struggles to breathe, wheezing as dirt smears across her face. Then, you come to the rescue. One word commands is all it takes. A simple “no” and Shauna hops off of Nat, trotting over to her hut while pouting like a bratty child.

“Your partner had to put you in your place again?” Taissa laughs.

“Nope,” Shauna denies. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yeah right,” Gen laughs along. “We all saw that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Shauna hisses. “Don’t act like you weren’t drooling over Melissa 20 minutes ago.”

“Oh snap!” Van calls out. “Two romantic losers competing to see who’s the biggest moron!”

“Shut the hell up,” Shauna snaps, standing up. “Fuck off. You can all fuck yourselves.”

“Would rather not,” Lottie mumbles.

Later on that night, you and Shauna meet at your usual special spot.

“You know what you want,” Shauna snarls, forcing you to the ground. “Say. It.”

“Fuck please,” you whimper, staring right into Shauna’s ice cold eyes. “Please baby.”

“Please what? Dumb brat? So desperate for me to prove who’s really the man of the house?”

“Need it so bad,” you plead, already nuzzling against Shauna’s crotch. “Would do anything for it.”

“Anything?” Shauna arches an eyebrow. “Anything, dumb slut?”

“Yes.” You claw at Shauna’s jeans. “Please, please.”

“Get to work then.” Shauna unbuttons her jeans and they fall to the floor. “My pussy isn’t going to eat itself.”

#yellowjackets #shauna shipman #shauna yellowjackets #shauna sadecki #shauna shipman smut #shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #x reader

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soullessdianthus · 2 years ago

Note

Please 🙏 please 🙏please more Perv!könig!!

A/N: How about Perv!König the brat tamer? Idea suggested by @mxx-mayari ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Warnings: abuse of authority, degradation, dry humping his boot, leash/pet play?

The colonel basically dragged you into his private office, pushing your smaller frame inside by the arm he was gripping so hard. You stumbled over your own feet, before turning around to face an enraged man.

König closed and locked the door, his palm was splayed over the wooden frame as he exhaled the air slowly. You observed as his shoulder sank, before he spoke.

━ What were you thinking?

His voice was harsh and filled with venom. König’s blue eyes piercing through your soul. For the first time in a while you felt truly terrified. And since you were tied to a private military, there were very few things that made you this vulnerable. Your colonel was one of them.

You took a step back, glossy eyes nervously looking around the room. There was no way out besides the doors he just locked.

His large figure moved towards your direction. König seemed rabid, but only his voice revealed that fact. Otherwise, he moved steadily, his spine straightened out – the Austrian man was already towering over you, he only did that to scare you further. To make you feel small.

━ I did what I had to to save my college, sir.

━ But I specifically told you not to. Then why? ━ König finally stopped right in front of you, a little too close perhaps as you had to turn your head away, not to bump into his chest. ━ Do you pity that boy, schatz? Is that the reason?

━ No. Are you jealous, sir?

You scratched his ego, testing the waters – his true intentions. You weren’t blind. You’ve noticed the colonel took a liking to you some time ago and lately his behavior got more… bold.

━ Watch your tone, when speaking to your superior, pretty thing. ━ He carefully squeezed the bone of you jaw with his bare hands and made you look up at him. You looked so cute for him – beautiful eyes staring at him from underneath the eyelashes, somewhere at the edge of crying for him. It went straight to his cock.

━ If that’s everything, I’m going to go, sir.

Once you tried to walk past him, his grip over your jaw tightened. König hooked two fingers of his other hand over your belt, pulling you closer. He was standing so close, yours and his heat blended together.

━ Oh, you won’t walk away without punishment for insubordination, soldier. On your knees, maus.

━ W-What? ━ For a second you thought you misheard something he said. But the colonel repeated the order in a more demeaning manner. At that moment, when blood ran cold in your veins, you realized you were in serious trouble.

You didn’t exactly know how you found yourself in this situation – humping your superior boot with a belt looped around your neck. Everything happened so quickly, when he pushed you onto your knees, warm heat pumped within your ears. König said it was your punishment for disobedience, that he was disappointed with his kleine maus.

König forced you to entangle your arms around his massive thigh, one of his hands keeping your head against his crotch. It looked like you were a little child, glued to his leg, begging him not to go.

The man had to put a spell on you, because how on earth would you ever agree to this humiliating thing? Somehow your colonel managed to wrap you around his finger, threatening to abuse his authority.

━ Come on, you need to work harder, schatz. Apologize. ━ He said, tugging at the “collar” made of his belt. You whined, when he squeezed the loop around your throat again, threatening to cut off your oxygen.

━ I’m sorry. ━ A pathetic sob escaped your lips, when a knot in your lower tummy began to painfully sting. You continuously rolled your hips over the surface of his shoe laces, leaving the sticky arousal on top of it. It was messy and degrading, yet somehow you managed to get yourself riled up.

Obviously König made you lower your pants and underwear, he wanted to feel your bare cunny sliding along his feet, even through the shoes. He could feel precisely how you rubbed yourself to make it pleasurable.

And he kept staring at you from above, admiring how much the colonel had managed to ruin you. You fell into his nasty, little games he played.

━ Look at you, humping my leg like a bitch in heat ━ colonel laughed, looking down at your pathetic state. By this time your flustered face was stained with tears and it turned him even more. ━ Oh, you wanna cum, pet? Is that what you want?

But you weren’t very mouthy when overstimulated. You only sobbed and whimpered, when he tilted the tip of his shoe further into your wet folds, causing you to jump forward and arch your ass better.

━ Be careful, maus ━ the Austrian colonel warned about your noises, gently rubbing your head that rested upon his bulge. You could feel his scent through the material of the pants, his cologne and arousal. ━ They might hear you.

━ Pl-Please, sir. I-It hurts!

You pressed your eyes shut, feeling as the tiredness finally got you. All of the struggle against your own release, made you palpable and weak. Suddenly, there was not enough willpower in you to keep talking back to him. You just wanted that sweet release!

━ Will you follow my orders from now on?

━ Yes!

━ Gut, then you can have your little reward, schatzi. Be a good girl and cum over my shoe.

And you didn’t need much more than this. A few more rolls of your hips and you reached that tingling sensation, warm spreading inside each limb. Your pussy and his shoe was covered in your sticky juices as you shivered, falling deeper into the embrace around his leg.

━ See? It wasn't that hard to obey orders. ━ König finally said, his big hand still caressing the top of your head. You did so good for him.

#cod #cod mwii #codmw2 #request #reader insert #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig #konig x reader #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #perv!konig #perv!könig

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bernardsbendystraws · 1 year ago

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𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⚠︎ mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

with love and big tits, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

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Chapter 6: Your Favorite.

I had woken up to birds chirping and the sun streaking through the blinds. My body felt wonderful. My stomach didn’t ache, I wasn’t shivering, and his arms around me felt heavenly. It was Saturday–the day I was supposed to watch Mrs. Evans' kid, Hailey.

I had yet to meet Hailey. She was only a toddler. Mrs. Evans had always wanted a family, but from my knowledge–her body didn’t make it easy for her to do so. Sometimes I wondered if she had ever resented my mother when I was a child. She spent countless hours playing with me, taking care of me how my mother just couldn’t. I barely remembered any of it, it made me feel guilty.

Matt and I had decided to take Trevor for a walk, still in our pajamas. He had thrown a winter coat, gloves, and a beanie on my head. It was excessive, but the man would not let me walk outside without ‘reasonable’ layers. Ironically, he didn’t even have gloves or a hat on.

“What are your plans for today?” He asks. I let out a sigh, mentally running through my list of things to do.

“Well,” I start. “--I have to go home before I babysit. That’s pretty much it.” I answer. My hands are sweating inside of the gloves. I pull them off, zipping them inside of the coat pocket. I look over, watching Matt give me a warning glare. “I’m sweating! See?” I say.

I reach out my hand, placing it on his. He takes it, intertwining both of our hands together. “Okay, fine.” He remarks. He rolls his eyes, sighing in defeat as we continue down the cement path. “--but if you get sick, I told you so.” He huffs.

I shake my head, laughing. Trevor trots on Matt’s opposite side, heavy pants being heard. We walk up to his front door as he swings it open. He bends down, unhooking the leash. Trevour immediately darts to the couch, sprawling on the sofa as if he was dead. I laugh at the sight in front of me, shedding off the multitude of layers.

I slip out of my worn shoes, placing them neatly on the patterned mat. I begin shrugging off the large puffer coat, feeling Matt take it off my shoulders for me, placing it on the coat hook. “Thank you.” I mumble shyly. He gives me a curt nod.

“I know mom wanted to show you her garden today, she’s starting her spring stuff in her greenhouse as we speak. Wanna go check it out?” He notices my eyes squinting down at him. “--I won’t make you put a bunch of layers back on, I promise.” He says.

I raise my chin, questioning him. He shakes his head, laughing. He grabs my hand, dragging me until we reach the back door of the house. He slides open the door, the cool breeze feeling like air conditioning in the heat of summer. The green fabric feels slightly heavier on my back, a thin layer of sweat coating down my shoulders.

“Come on, she’s probably in the greenhouse.” I follow Matt down the dirt path, into the woods behind his house. The path diverted into two separate ways, the right one to the lake he had taken me to previously. He turns left, holding my hand as he tows me along with him.

I see a small greenhouse come into view. The shed has rustic wood for walls with a multitude of windows, all covered in dead stems, withered by the cold. I follow Matt as he walks through the propped-open door, seeing Marylou dumping a bag of soil into a pot.

She looks up, noticing us. Her soft, melodic hums stop as a cheery smile spreads across her face. “Hey, kids! I was hoping to show you my greenhouse! Would you like to plant with me? I’m putting down some soil into these pots,” She motions towards the array of ceramic plant pots. “--I could definitely use some help.” She points out.

I ecstatically nod my head, Matt scratching the back of his neck and looking back at me for confirmation. “Sure, mom. What do you want us to do?” He asks, guiding me to the table with the materials.

“I need,” She points to a high shelf in the shed, one far beyond her reach or my own. “--that.” She says. Matt reaches up, grabbing down a wooden box filled with various seed packets. He sets it down on the table, dusting off his hands.

“Now what?” He asks. Marylou pats his back, pushing him. He walks with her hands guiding him to the door.

“That’s all we need you for, bye! Love ya!” She says. Matt turns around on the other side of the doorway, holding up his hands questioningly. He opens his mouth, a slight syllable escaping his lips before the door shuts in his face.

“Love ya to, ma!” He shouts sarcastically from the other side. Marylou turns back to me, a mischievous smile spread on her face. She walks back over, handing me a bag of soil and moving a pot in front of me.

“Just put it in there, darlin’.” She directs. I roll up the sleeves of the expensive hoodie, standing hunched-over to protect the vibrant fabric. I cannot get this dirty. I take the cut-open bag, dumping it in the pot like she directs.

“Ya know,” I look up, seeing her wandering around, gathering various tools. “--I really like you, you seem like a very sweet girl.” She mentions. I feel my cheeks heat up as I avert my eyes back to the task at-hand.

“Thanks.” I mumble. I hear her shuffling around, her hands coming in my peripheral vision. I watch as her hand grazes my arm, her pointing finger landing on my forearm.

My eyes widen in fear. The cigarette scar lays right beside her finger. “What’s this from? It almost looks like a burn–any crazy story?” She asks.

I shake my head furiously, panic overtaking through my veins. “I…um…no–I don’t even remember how I got it, to be honest.” My voice comes out shaky, slightly higher pitched. I wince at the horrid attempt of lying, not able to bring my eyes up to meet hers.

“Oh…” She trails off. “--the boys have a ton of crazy scars and stories–especially Matt.” She explains. I sigh in relief. Thank god she didn’t push. I bring my dirt-ridden hand up to the edge of the sleeve, pulling it down with the tips of my nails. I cover the scar with the sleeve, bringing my hands back down to the pot.

I hear a knock at the door, grabbing my attention. I watch as the creaky door shutters open, Matt pouting from the otherside. “Can I have her back yet?” He asks.

I laugh at his innocent tone, looking over to see Marylou rolling her eyes. “Kids, am I right?” She jokes, shaking her head disappointedly at me. She huffs heavily. “Fine, I guess. I want her back when I plant my tulips though, Matthew Bernard.” She warns.

My lips part as I choke back a laugh. “Mom!” Matt whines, burying his face in his hands with embarrassment. Bernard. He stomps over, grabbing my hand and tugging me behind him. I whip around, waving to Marylou as she stands, shaking her head with a smile.

Matt guides us down the path, turning on the dirt path that leads us to the lake. “What are we doing?” I ask. He nods to the right, a tree coming into a view. A large willow, green leaves sprouting, barely peeking out from the branches.

“It’s starting to bloom, look.” He points.

My eyes stare at the tree, admiring the rarity. I hadn’t been to many places, I had never even been outside of Massechusets. I never had much time to explore, either.

I loved seeing nature, large tree trunks accompanied by bushy leaves at the park by my old house in the less scenic town over. I had never seen a tree with so much personality, the branches dancing with the wind.

“I’ve never actually seen one of these in person.” I breathe out. Matt raises his eyebrows at me, dragging me closer to the colossal wood. He stops right in front of the branches, parting them carefully with his hands. He nods his head, gesturing for me to walk.

I weave under the dry branches, stopping as I stand in the empty space between the branches and the trunk of the tree. It had felt like a shield, mimicking the way my hair would often hang like curtains around my face.

I hear the rustle of branches, watching as Matt steps through. His hand squeezes back into mine. I hesitantly reach out, letting my fingertips graze the rough bark lightly. “I’m deathly afraid of getting splinters, but this,” I shake my head in disbelief. “--this is just mesmerizing.” I remark.

“Deathly afraid of splinters?” He laughs. I whip around, meeting his eyes as I squint at him.

“Elevators?” I banter. He holds his hand up defensively, making me laugh.

“What else are you scared of?” He whispers. I feel his chest press against my back, his hand squeezing my own as his other rubs along the side of my arm.

I laugh nervously. “Spiders, needles, any insect really…um…” I trail off, feeling his chuckles vibrate against my back. “Shut up.” I mutter. I feel his laugh grow more intensely, his lips breaking as the sounds reach my ears.

“Why are you deathly scared of splinters? I don’t understand.” He laughs. I shrug my shoulders, a sadness washing over me as I feel myself detach. His laughs die down, his head peeking over my shoulder. His face is sympathetic. “I’m kidding–I mean, I’m scared of elevators.” He jokes.

I let the smile crawl back up on my face. “Well, that’s rational–you could fall and plummet to your–sorry.” I say, watching his eyes widen with horror. I made it worse. I sigh, looking at the splintered bark in front of me with heavy shoulders.

I feel his hand squeeze my own, bringing my attention back up to him. His eyes gleam down at me with sorrow written in his face. “Ya know,” He brushes the hair behind my neck, making my body tingle from his breath. “--I’ve always wanted to carve a heart into a tree with someone. Chris and Nick never would, they think it’s stupid. But,” His nose nuzzles on the rim of my ear, my body tensing from the sensation. “--maybe we could do it together sometime.”

I crane my head up, looking up at him. His eyes meet mine with admiration. “I’d like that.” I blush. He gives me a small smile, leaning his head down to rest against the back of my own.

“M’kay, ready to head back inside? I don’t want you to get too cold.” His hand returns, rubbing up and down my arm. I laugh at his remark. Cold? His body heat radiated onto me, warming me better than any jacket I had ever owned.

“Sure.” I responded. His body heat dissipates as I hear the crunch of his shoes against the dirt. I turn around, watching as he opens the branches like a curtain.

“Come on, princess.” He teases. I blush at the name, walking through the void. I feel his hand clasp around my wrist as I stand beneath his raised arm. I look up, watching his eyes hungrily gaze down at my lips.

I smile, letting him drag my hand up to his chest. My palm lays flat on his chest, his hand enclosing on top of mine. I push my toes down, bringing my heels up as I lean onto him. I peck his lips swifty, backing up to see his eyes closed and his lips still semi-puckered.

I laugh at his reaction, making his eyes snap open. His face is overcome with a proud joy, gleaming with admiration. I let my feet relax, but my foot twists as it lands on the uneven surface. I shriek, feeling myself stumble.

Matt’s hand drops my own, his arm tugging me immediately back to his chest. He leans down, his breath fanning across my nose in the slightest. I let out whispered breaths. “Caught ya.” He remarks. I feel my smile return to my face as I flail my arm back to his chest.

As soon as I move my arm, a rough sting is apparent on my forearm. The burning sensation pricks me, making me whimper in pain. Matt pulls my body up to his with his arm, guiding us out of the curtained-branches and to the field of grass.

“Hey,” he reaches out, grabbing my arm from my grasp. I watch as my vision becomes blurry from tears. I gasp as he gently pulls my arm in between the two of us. A large thorn, embedded in his hoodie. His three-hundred dollar hoodie.

My bottom lip quivers as the sight in front of me intensifies, sending fear and panic through every pore of my body. I ruined it. The slight stain of red becomes more apparent, seeping into the green fabric with high contrast.

“I-I—I’m so so so sorry, Matt. I-” He shushes me, pulling me into his chest in a hug. One of his arms wrapped around me, caging me against him. I push back, only for his hand to enclose around my head with a firm grip. “Matt–”

“Shhh, don’t look.” His voice is comforting and gentle. His firm grip gets tighter as I attempt to push myself back. “Matt-” Is this it? Is this where his gentle touch disappears?

I wince from the burning sensation, feeling yet another prick. I can’t help the tears from falling from my eyes, soaking onto his sweatshirt. “Shhhh…I got you, it’s gone, look.” His grip falls back down to my waist as he holds a bloodied-thorn in his hand.

My eyes widen, immediately darting to the hoodie. I yank the sleeve up above the wound, letting the crimson paint down my arm, dripping slowly from the shallow wound. “Hey, you’re gonna get cold.” Matt states, yanking the hoodie back down.

I gasp, watching a streak of red appear. “Matt! It’s gonna-” “I don’t care, it’s just a hoodie. Now, let’s get the first aid kit and take care of ya, yeah?” He states, pulling me by the waist.

I feel my ears go hot from embarrassment. I’m fucking crying over a splinter. I should be profusely apologizing for destroying his things.

I choke back my tears, clearing my throat. “Matt, I–,” the quiet shaking in my voice makes him turn his head, analyzing me. He supports my weight, walking quicker as he slides open the back door. “--I’m really sorry.” I state, letting it out in one breath.

Matt shakes his head, placing his hands on my hips. I squeal, feeling my feet lift off the ground. He pushes me back, sitting me on the cold counter. I look up, willing the tears to crawl back inside. I hear a drawer open, metal clanking as I look over to see him holding a first aid box-kit.

“I’m really sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to-” The words get caught in my throat. He takes out an alcohol wipe, ripping it open with his teeth as his other hand rubs up and down my thigh. “It’s okay, really. I’m not upset in the slightest, okay?” I nod hesitantly at his words, watching as he reaches out with the alcohol pad.

I scoot back on the counter, leaning my body weight away. It’s gonna hurt, I know it’s gonna hurt. Why do I have to be so weak when it comes to pain?

“Hey,” His hand wraps around my thigh, keeping me in place. “”--it’ll hurt, but then it’s gonna feel better. I have to clean it.”

It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt.

“Here, come here.” He opens his arms. I fling myself into them, latching around his neck desperately. His hand grabs my arm, pulling it down and to the side. I feel the burning sting, whimpering from the pain as I attempt to keep my arm still for him.

Please, don’t think I’m weak.

I loosen my grip, feeling the cool air on the wound. I hear another rip, seeing as he places a bandaid over the red area. I look down in shame. Why do I have to be so weak?

“I’m sorry for crying and being a baby. I’m especially sorry for ruining your hoodie.” I run my clammy hand against the top of my thigh. His hand pushes my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze softened, a slight pout apparent on his lips.

“Don’t. You don’t need to apologize for anything. It’s a piece of clothing–”

“It was your favorite.” I retort. He shakes his head, letting out a sigh.

“I can have a new favorite.” He remarks with a soft smile. I nod, trying to blink back the tears. “--if you need to cry–cry, it’s okay.” He soothes. I shake my head, looking up towards the ceiling.

“I don’t want to cry.” I let out. My body betrays me, a stream of hot tears running down and into my scalp. Matt wipes the tears gently with the sleeve of his sweater. “Why not? It’s just me.” He points out. I wipe under my eyes with my fingers. “I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” I laugh out dryly.

I let my eyes shift to his. He shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips. “I don’t think you’re weak.” He breathes out. “You don’t?” I interrogate. He shakes his head, “Elevators aren’t even in my top five fears and I almost had a panic attack. If anything, I think you’re strong.”

He brushes the hair back as I look into his eyes. The fear started subsiding as a comforting wave of relief washed over me. “You okay?” I nod my head as he places his hands on my hips. I let him help me off the counter, but he doesn’t set me on the floor.

My legs wrap around him as he starts walking to his room. “What are you doing?” I ask, grappling onto his neck. His shoulders shrug from beneath my arms. “Distracting you, returning the favor.” He says. He shuts his room door closed with his foot.

I cling onto him, feeling his body crouch and lay on the bed. I go to sit up, maneuver myself off of him, but he pulls me closer. “Wanna watch a dumb show again?” I smile, nodding as he grabs his phone out. He props it against his cologne bottle, pressing play on ‘Too Hot To Handle.’

His hand comes back, cradling my head to his chest as I listen to the thumps of his heartbeat.

I had woken up to screaming, Chris’s voice echoing in the house. I felt Matt stir from beneath me, pulling me closer as his lips pressed against my head. Soft snores escaped his parted lips, making my heart flutter from the sound.

I giggle, pushing myself up and off of Matt’s chest. Matt huffs, his hand curling around my entire head, suctioning to my ear. “Ignore them, ‘m sorry.” I laugh at his lazy words, squirming out of his grip. I watch as his eyes squint open, his hands rubbing his face. “Come back.” He voices.

I lean over him, feeling his arms wrap around my waist as I reach for my phone on his nightstand. I grab the device, pulling myself back. Matt pulls me down, crushing my nose against his chest. “Ow.” I say. His eyes darted open, his face grimacing as I held my nose.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, his hands untangling from my waist. I move freely, sitting up against his head board.

6:00 P.M.

“I need to leave for babysitting soon. I have to walk home and then to Mrs. Evans house.” I say. Matt groans, flipping on his stomach and letting his arm fall over my lap. I laugh, lifting the limb and standing up. Matt’s head pops out from the pillow, his hair aloof. I smile at the sight, watching as he climbs out of bed.

He walks over to his closest, pulling out a knit, buttoned, purple sweater. He hands it over to me as I grab the fabric hesitantly. “I’m going home, I don’t–” He holds up a hand, “It’s for my own selfish reasons, okay?” I laugh at his bluntness, nodding my head.

“Can you just cover your eyes or something? I really do need to leave. I probably needed to leave a bit ago, honestly.” I remark. His hands cover his face as he lets his neck drop, facing the ground. I pull off the green hoodie, sighing at the red stain. I let the soft, knit sweater envelope around me.

It’s so soft. “Oh my god, this is so soft.” I voice. I look down at the fabric that pools over the pajama pants I had yet to change out of. My dry skin admires the smooth fabric, my arms moving without an uncomfortable scratching feeling as I fold the green hoodie.

Matt reaches out, grabbing the sweatshirt and throwing it onto the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t worry about it. Want some sweats–actually, don’t answer that. I’m giving you sweats.” I laugh at his statement. He pulls a pair of clean sweats down, handing them to me.

I look at him knowingly. “Oh, yeah.” He covers his face, looking towards the ground. I let the pajamas fall off my legs, pulling on the sweats and tying the drawstring tightly, securing them on my hips to the best of my abilities. The fabric pools at the ground beneath my feet.

“Uh, Matt?” He unveils his face, looking in the direction of my pointed finger. “I don’t think they–” I stop as he kneels to the floor. His hands reach out, folding the fabric until it comes to my ankle. He does the same to the other side, the neat folds not budging as I wiggle my foot in the air.

“Thank you,” I said. He nods his head, holding out his hand for me. I place my hand in his, allowing him to guide me to the front door. He slips on his own shoes as I do the same. I look around, the room barren of a single person. “Can you tell your mom I said bye?”

“Mhm, now let’s go.” I tilt my head at him as he grabs his keys. “Huh? I have to babysit—I’m walking home and then to the place.” He shakes his head. “No–I’m driving you home and then I’m driving you to whatever the address is for the house you’re babysitting at.” He pulls the coat from the coat rack. “--and put this on, you’ll be cold.’’ He pulls out my arm, sliding it in the arms of the coat and doing the same on the other side.

He steps in front of me, his hands bringing the zipper of the jacket all the way below my chin. “Matt, you don’t need to–” His intense stare makes my words falter. “I’m not letting you walk, let’s go.” He pulls me by the hand out the door and to his car.

I pull down the zipper, the warmth already becoming overbearing. Matt opens the car door for me as I sit in the passenger seat. He grabs the seatbelt, leaning over me and clicking it in. His eyes fall below my face, his hands reaching out and pulling the zipper. I feel the cold metal brush against my chin as he pulls away, shutting the door softly.

I laugh quietly to myself, hearing his door open and shut. He turns the heat on, starting to drive. I pull down the zipper. I gasp, feeling the car come to a semi-abrupt stop. “What are you doing! You’re gonna get cold.” Matt mutters, reaching for the zipper.

I push his hand away. “Matt,” I put his hand on the center console. “I’m sweating, okay? I’m gonna faint from heat exhaustion at this rate.” I state. His lips purse as he sways his head. “Okay.” He says softly, pulling off the brake.

I watch as he reaches out, turning the AC down. I open up the coat, my fingers fiddling with the hem of the soft sweater.

“Can I have a fourth wish, genie?” He asks. I look over, watching his hands turn the wheel. “Please.” He adds.

I laugh at the question. “Sure, what’s your wish?” I urge. He pulls onto my street, my house visible from the few streetlights. He pulls over in front of my house, parking the car. He takes the keys out of the ignition, looking over at me.

“Let me come in?” His eyes wander up. I look back, seeing the wooden house that seems almost abandoned. I sigh, looking back at him as his innocent smile plastered across his face. “Please.” He repeats. I suck in my bottom lip.

Should I? Is my dad even here?

“Pleaseeee. I just wanna see your room–plus, parents love me! I’m so cute, look!” He cheeses hard at me, making my giggle ring through the car. “That’s a yes, right? Great, come on!” He doesn’t give me time to respond as he gets out of the car, practically sprinting over to open my door.

He pulls me up, dragging me to the front door as I pull out my keys. “Wait just one second, okay?” He nods, his arms swinging by his sides impatiently. I crack the door open, seeing nothing but darkness. I flick on the flights, seeing a barren living room. I listen for any sounds, hearing nothing but the wind pushing against the windows.

I look back at him, nodding for him to follow. I shut the door behind us. “I just need to grab a couple things from my room, my dad might be in his room though–just,” I stop him at the bottom of the stairs. “--wait here for a minute.” He nods.

I take a deep breath, the stairs creaking beneath my feet as I place one foot in front of the other. Reaching the top, I knock on his door. Silence meets me, but I don’t trust it. I slowly open the door, wincing at a screech of the rusted metal door hinges.

I peek my head through the door, seeing him. He looks over at me blankly, a cigarette between his lips as he sits on the window sill. “What do you want? He grumbles. I feel my stomach churn at the sight of smoke falling from his lips. I bite back my tongue, shaking my head as I close the door with a soft thud.

I look down at Matt, motioning for him to follow with my pointer finger pressed against my lips. He nods, walking up the steps quietly. I wait for him to reach the top of the stairs, swallow thickly as I look back at his door.

I sigh, letting my shoulders sink with defeat. I walk towards my room, opening the door and shutting it as he walks through. I feel a boulder of embarrassment sink in my gut. I watch as his steps falter, scared to move as he analyzes the room.

The twin mattress is on a cheap, metal frame in the center of the room. A ratted blanket is covering the mattress, the baby blue knitted blanket laying at the top by the singular pillow that lays flat and deflated.

My anxiety shoots through my body as I watch him turn around. His eyebrows furrow before his lips tug into a slight smile. “Ya know,” he walks over closer to me. “--a stuffed animal would really make this feel more home-y.” He says.

I tilt my head, holding back a smile. “Shut up.” I mumble, shoving past him and into the sliding closet. I pull out jeans, pulling down a bin full of my underwear. I shuffle around, pulling clothing out and into my hands.

I hear Matt clear his throat, looking up to see him scratching the back of his neck nervously. He sucks in his lips between his teeth, avoiding my eyes. “You should, um…” I set the clothes down, crossing my arms over my chest. I raise an eyebrow at him as he meets my gaze. “You should bring some clothes over, just in case we wanna have more sleepovers unexpectedly, ya know?” He finishes.

I hold back a laugh, shaking my head. I grab more underwear and bras out of the bin, placing them in my backpack. “Tired of me stealing all of yours?” I tease.

“Nope, but I don’t exactly have women's underwear.” He holds up his hands in defense. My cheeks burn as I lick over my teeth.

“Really?” I ask. My eyes flicker to his, watching as his eyes squint at me. “--I would’ve thought you had tons!” I remark sarcastically. He brings his hand up, smoothing over his forehead.

“I–” His words are cut off by a pounding on the door. My eyes widen with fear, my fists clenching to my stomach. The door swings open a crack, my dad peeping his head in. “Listen, I’m sorry for–who is this?” He looks over to Matt, opening the door further.

Matt gives a subtle wave, scratching at the back of his neck shyly. “I’m Matt, nice to meet you.” My dads eyes squint at him, cocking his head to the side.

“Do I know you?” He asks. Matt shakes his head, “Nope, we just go to school together–I was gonna drive her to her babysitting job.” He answers. My dad hesitantly nods his head, looking back over at me. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” He asks, his eyes staring down at me.

I look back at Matt, giving him a small smile before walking out the open door. I hear my dad close it, dragging me down the hallway gently by my shoulder. “Who is that boy?” He interrogates. I shrug, “Matt–he’s a friend of mine, that’s all.” I answer. He furrowed his eyebrows, raising them as he rubbed his creased forehead.

“Okay, just–no having sex, okay?”

“Dad!” I whisper-shout. My eyes bulge out of my head as a heat of embarrassment and anger clouds my body. The audacity. “I can take care of myself, remember?” I spit. He moves his eyes, staring at the wall behind me with a sullen look on his face.

“I…” he huffs. “--’m sorry, okay? I’m trying, I’m really fucking trying. I just–it’s really hard when you look more like her everyday. It hurts. I swear, I only bought cigs to curb the craving, okay? I…I never want to hurt you, not again.” He grabs out, caressing my forearm with his bottom lip pouted.

My eyes swell with tears. Relief makes my breath fall with my shoulders. I look like her. Is that a blessing or a curse? “I…” I suck in a breath. “--I’ll do better with staying out of your business.” I say. He mumbles gratitude under his breath, patting my shoulder.

“Okay, get to your babysitting whatnot. Are you coming home tonight?” He asks. I shrug, watching as he nods softly, walking in his own bedroom and closing the door. I sigh deeply, letting my feet float back to my room.

I open the door, watching as Matt sits on my bed. His hand is caressing over the baby blue blanket with a soft face. “Ready to go?” He asks. I nod my head.

I let my hand reach out. He stands up, walking over and placing his hand in mine. I smile at the comforting touch. He grabs my backpack from the floor, tossing it on his shoulder. I step out, leading us back down and out the door.

I had put the address into his phone, holding it up for him to see the directions. Once he had parked on the side of the street, he sprinted out and opened my door for me. I grab his hand, giggling as he pulls me out of the car.

My heart feels warm, my chest feels light, everything seems to be getting better. It’s not gonna last though, is it?

I shake off the thought as he walks me to the door. “Thank you for driving me. Really, you didn’t have to.” I say. He shrugs his shoulders, pulling me into his side. Before he can say anything, the front door swings open, revealing Mrs. Evans and her husband.

“Hello! Oh–hi, Matt!” Mrs. Evans greets. Her husband grumbles something about getting the car from the garage, walking past us with a friendly smile. She grabs a purse, her sweater and jeans contrasting with her typical attire at school. She fixes her earring before clasping her hands together. “Will Hailey be having another buddy to hang out with, hm?” She questions.

I watch as little hands grab at Mrs. Evans side, a small girl peeping her head around. Her brown, curly hair is done up in two pigtails with beads. Her brown skin, like most kids, looks buttery-soft. Her doe eyes look like honey from the porch light gleaming down on her. “I like your hair.” I compliment. The little girl blushes, hiding her face behind Mrs. Evans legs.

“I get two friends, mom?!” Hailey exclaims, tugging on Mrs. Evans sweater. I let out an awkward laugh. “Well, he’s not staying, it’s just me.” I explain. Hailey’s smile falters, her eyes landing on Matt.

“You don’t wanna be my friend?” Her eyes are teary as Matt immediately shakes his head. “No–I’d love to be your friend…” His eyes darted to mine with panic. “He’s just busy–” Hailey cuts me off, tugging Matt’s hand inside.

Mrs. Evans laughs, holding her purse tightly as she rummages through the bag quickly. “The envelope on the counter is for you. I think I have everything,” she looks over, headlights beaming from behind me. “Okay, our reservation is in like ten minutes and it’s a fifteen minute drive. We’ll be back in around two hours-ish?” She walks off. “Just text if you need anything! Matt’s welcome to stay with you!” She winks before shutting the car door.

I bite back a smile as I wave, walking into the house and shutting the door. I look up, my eyes bulging and my hand slapping over my mouth. I attempt to hold back the giggles, seeing Matt with wide-eyes sitting on the couch, Hailey decorating his hair with colorful beads and bows.

“Do I look pretty?” He nervously asks. I nod, sitting on the couch next to him. “Very.” I answer. “You don’t, you don’t have to stay.” I point out. He shakes his head, “I want to, well–if that’s okay with you.” I nod my head, leaning my head on his shoulder as Hailey hums a song while fiddling with the bows in his hair above us.

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bakuchrome · 22 days ago

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I loved awakening 🙇‍♀️

thank you, kind person

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 ✭ 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

☆𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭☆ ➥@𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!!

“There’s nothing more dangerous than seeing a monster and recognizing something familiar in his eyes.”

You were assigned to monitor Sukuna after his resurrection into a temporary physical form.

Not host-bound. Not fully free. Just… borrowed time, tightly leashed with ancient seals and Jujutsu Kaisen’s highest security clearance.

He was supposed to be a ticking bomb.

A threat dressed in crimson and smirking malice.

And that’s exactly how you treated him for the first few months.

"I'm not here to entertain you," you snapped once, after he'd tried to flirt just to see you squirm.

"You're not entertaining," he replied smoothly. "But I enjoy watching you try so hard not to look at me."

You hated that he noticed.

You hated that you noticed— the slow, dangerous way he moved, the unnerving calm in his gaze, the cruel wit that only seemed to sharpen the longer he existed in silence.

You’d been trained to hate him. And for a long time, you did.

Until you didn't.

✭✭✭

There was a mission. One they shouldn't have let him attend.

You were the failsafe, the observer, the leash if things went wrong.

A cursed spirit lashed out at a child. And for a split second, you weren’t fast enough.

Sukuna was.

The aftermath was messy. The other sorcerers assumed he protected the child to preserve his freedom, that he was calculating.

But you’d seen his face.

You saw the flicker of anger— not at the spirit, but at himself. Like the idea of a helpless creature being slaughtered under his watch insulted him.

"I didn't do it for you," he said later, when you confronted him. "I know," you whispered. "Then why are you looking at me like that?"

You didn’t have an answer.

✭✭✭

It wasn't in the moments he talked— it was in the ones he didn’t.

When you caught him sitting quietly with an old scroll, reading something you knew was written in the time he lived. When you watched his eyes track the stars at night like he remembered them differently than they are now. When you found him kneeling beside a dying cursed animal, watching it pass with something close to reverence.

He didn’t speak often anymore. And when he did, it wasn’t always cruel.

"You act like I’m incapable of love,” he said one night, out of nowhere. You stared at him. “Aren’t you?” His voice was quiet. “I forget. Sometimes. But then you show up.”

You didn't sleep that night.

✭✭✭

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to care.

You weren’t supposed to ache when he was dragged back from a mission with injuries, blood-soaked and laughing.

You weren’t supposed to look at his cracked lips and imagine what they’d taste like. Or how he’d sound saying your name without venom behind it.

It started to feel like drowning.

You began avoiding his eyes. His voice. The way he sometimes looked at you like he could see right through your walls and was… patiently waiting for them to fall.

You hated it.

Because you couldn’t see a way where it worked. He was Sukuna—the King of Curses. And you were a weapon trained to end his kind.

"I don't want this," you whispered one night, tears thick in your throat. "I don’t want to feel like this for you." He said nothing at first. Just watched you break in front of him. "Then why do you?" he asked softly.

You didn’t answer.

✭✭✭

It was a quiet afternoon.

No blood. No mission. No tension.

You sat beside him in the garden, reading.

He didn’t speak. Just watched you. Your hair falling over your shoulder, your lips mouthing the words of your book.

You looked up— and he wasn’t wearing his usual smirk.

He was just watching. Like you were a memory he didn’t want to forget.

“What?” you asked. “You’re beautiful when you’re calm,” he said. Your heart slammed in your chest. “I’m never calm around you.” “You’re always calm around me,” he said gently. “You just fight it.”

You kissed him that night.

It was hesitant. A question. A promise. A thousand what-ifs in one breathless moment.

He didn’t devour you like you expected.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting for years.

✭✭✭

Even in the warmth of his touch, even in the quiet nights when he held you like something precious— there was always the lingering ache.

How does this end?

What kind of future is there for a girl and a curse?

You couldn’t picture it. You didn’t want to.

But he could.

One night, he curled a clawed hand around your wrist and murmured, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, almost against your will.

“Then let me make you mine properly.”

✭✭✭

They tried to separate you.

Tried to execute him, seal him, erase the bond between human and curse.

You stood in front of him when they came for him.

Tears streaming. Heart aching.

“You don’t know what he is,” you said. “No,” Sukuna said, stepping behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, “they don’t know what you are to me.”

The choice was cruel. Walk away from your career. Your title. Everything you built.

Or leave him behind.

So you ran.

Together.

You live far away now. In a quiet place. A secret home wrapped in wards older than any curse.

He still jokes. Still growls. Still calls you "brat" when you're mad and "lover" when you're not.

But he never threatens. Never hurts you. Never lets go.

Sometimes you still wonder if it can work.

But then he reaches for you in the night, whispers your name like it’s sacred, and all that fear fades.

He was never meant to be loved.

But he is.

By you.

And for the first time in his eternal life, he loves back.

Taglist➥ @after-laughter-come-tears

☆𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭☆ ➥@𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!!

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk ryomen

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rememberwren · 9 months ago

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Ghoap x civilian!reader who comes home from work in a teary panic attack. Simon and Johnny obviously rush to her and try to calm her down. When asked what happened she explained how she was SA’d or harassed by a man on her way home. Simon and or Johnny are SEETHING with anger that someone would dare lay a hand on their girl, but they do their best to stay calm in front of her, silently agreeing to each other that they’ll find that son of a bitch later. Their main priority is to take care of her. One or two of them gets her in a bath, washes her hair and just overall being an amazing fluffy boyfriend/s while soothing her and kissing away her tears. If only one of the boys is doing that the other one could be pacing around the house seething with anger, trying to find out who that man was and where they can find him. Idk up to you, just a random thought :)

(This goes without saying but you obviously don’t have to write this if you are uncomfortable with the situation. I just love fics where the boys are lovingly (and reasonably) protective of reader. Love your fics btw thank you for being such an awesome writer💖💖)

CW: recent non-con.

“Tell me again how you’ll do it,” you mutter, half asleep with your arms on the ledge of the bathtub, chin resting on your folded hands. Goosebumps have bloomed along your shaking limbs. Johnny reaches out and lays the back of three fingers against your shoulder, feeling the chill of your skin. He reaches out and turns the faucet back on, letting the hot water run and run until you stop shivering.

“Slow,” says Ghost from where he’s perched on the edge of the vanity. His arms are crossed, fists tucked out of your sight. “That’s what it comes down to. It’ll be slow. He’ll be alive for most of it, alive well past the moment when he wishes he weren’t.”

You give a sleepy smile. It wavers, suspended for an endless moment on your pretty face, and then it falls, tears filling your eyes. You shift away from the ledge and dip beneath the water, hair floating up toward the surface as you stay under until your lungs burn. They wait. When you come back up, gasping for breath, you can pretend that the water on your face is from the tub.

Johnny turns the hot water off. He hands you the washcloth again though you have scrubbed yourself raw already; a well worn routine. He goes to add a dollop of your favorite soap—the kind that smells like almonds—but you stop him and ask for the soap that they use.

“I want to smell like you,” you say, eyelids drooping with exhaustion. Johnny reaches for the proper soap and squirts a health dose onto the washcloth. He winces when you shove the washcloth below the water and between your legs.

“Don’t, love,” he says. “Yer going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m already hurt,” you snap, the tenor of your voice fragile, friable. You take a deep, trembling breath and let it out. Then you say: “Tell me again.”

“SlowIy,” Ghost says, patient. He has answered this question in various gory forms for the last two hours. “I want him aware, for as long as possible before I kill him.”

“We,” says Johnny firmly.

“We,” Ghost amends, nodding.

“What’s stopping you?” you ask morosely.

“Just a dog waiting to be let off the leash,” says Ghost.

The washcloth between your thighs slows, then stops. You let it float to the surface of the tub and reach out a pruning hand towards Ghost who slips off the vanity and onto his knees on the wet tiles, slipping his hand into yours. He helps you stand, your legs shaking, unused to the cramped position the tub demanded of you.

Johnny is there with a towel. He presses the water from your hair and wraps you up, gentle against your chafed skin. They help you into bed, pulling back the sheets and tucking you in like you haven’t been since you were a child. The tears come back, and this time you have nothing to blame them on. Nothing. They drip down the sides of your face towards your temples, but Johnny catches every single one.

“Ghost?”

He turns, head cocked, ear towards you while he waits for your word.

You say, sleepily: “Go get him.”

#ghoap x reader #tw: noncon #request

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mintyys-blog · 17 hours ago

Text

TO CARRY HIS NAME 2 | thragg x wife! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | PART ONE | WARNINGS: pregnancy, child birth, neglectful husband, mentioned abuse

The pain hit just before dawn.

A sharp, twisting thing that coiled beneath your ribs and dragged you from sleep in a quiet gasp. You gripped the edge of the bed, sweat beading at your temple as you tried to breathe through it.

You didn’t scream. Screaming was weakness. Screaming would summon him.

You rose, slowly, legs trembling. The corridor outside your quarters was quiet—empty. Thragg hadn’t returned last night. You didn’t ask why. Your hand pressed to your abdomen, now slightly rounded. It was too soon for complications. Too soon for this kind of pain.

But it was happening anyway. You stumbled once, catching yourself against the wall, and that was when you heard the footsteps. Fast. Familiar.

“Mother—!” Samuel. He caught you just as your knees buckled, his arms strong around you, one hand steady beneath your back. “I’m alright,” you whispered. “I just need to sit—”

“You’re not alright,” he said, voice low, furious, but terrified. “You’re not even standing.” He helped you back into your chambers, easing you onto the bed like you were glass. You hated the way your hands shook. Hated the wetness in your eyes. He knelt before you, already checking for any signs of bleeding, of damage. Just like they’d taught him—sterile, precise, detached. But his face said everything else. “This isn’t normal,” he muttered. “You need medical—”

“No doctors. They’ll report to him.” He paused. His jaw clenched. “I don’t care.” Before you could stop him, the door opened behind him—hissing, mechanical. Thragg stood in the threshold, helmet off, eyes already narrowing at the sight of you in bed, and Samuel crouched protectively beside you. “What is this.” Samuel rose slowly. “She’s in pain. I’m helping her.”

Thragg’s gaze snapped to you, scanning your face, your posture, your hands shaking faintly against the sheets. “How long.”

You didn’t answer. Samuel did. “An hour. Maybe more.” Thragg stepped forward, every inch of his frame tight with barely-leashed fury—not at Samuel. At you. “You should have called for me.” You flinched, but held his stare. “You weren’t here.” He approached the bed, towering above you both, and looked at your son like he was an intruder. Samuel didn’t move.

“I said I would protect her,” Samuel said coldly. “And you’ve done nothing but ignore her since she conceived. Again.”

“Watch your tone.”

“Or what?” Samuel snapped. “You’ll train me harder? Hit me again?”

A long, dangerous silence. Then, Thragg’s voice, low. Measured. “You are speaking to your superior.”

“No,” Samuel said. “I’m speaking to the man who’s supposed to be my father.”

You saw it—just a flicker, a crack behind Thragg’s eyes. Like something old and ugly had been forced to the surface. He turned to you. “Are you bleeding?” You shook your head. “No. Just pain. Intense.” He knelt beside the bed, carefully brushing Samuel aside.

His hand moved to your stomach, cold and massive against your skin. He stayed like that—listening. Thinking. Protecting. “You will not leave this bed until further notice,” he said, not unkindly. “Samuel will monitor you when I’m gone. I will assign guards. Food. Everything. You don’t move without assistance.” You hated the implication—that you were weak. But you hated more the way his hand lingered. Like he meant it. “Is that an order?” you asked softly. “It’s a vow.”

His eyes found yours—hard, burning. But something else was there now. Fear, maybe. Or something close. “Do not make me bury you,” he said, voice barely audible.

And for the first time in years, his hand slipped from your stomach to your fingers. Twining them carefully. As if he remembered the shape of your hands. As if it haunted him. He didn’t look at Samuel again. But Samuel stood there, silent, watching. And for once… he didn’t interrupt.

You didn’t sleep.

Not with Thragg seated by your bedside like a sentry, his arms crossed, eyes locked on the far wall, unmoving for hours. Not with Samuel curled in a chair nearby, feigning rest but twitching awake at every sound you made.

There was something about the stillness that made it worse.

As if your body could betray you at any moment, and you would die in the quiet with no one able to stop it.

The pain dulled near morning—manageable now, but present, like a warning. You shifted slightly and felt Thragg’s gaze return to you before you even moved fully. He was alert. Waiting.

“Don’t,” he said flatly, voice low. “Stay still.”

“I have to use the bathroom.”

“I’ll carry you.”

You almost laughed. Almost.

But when you looked at him—his posture rigid, his face drawn tight like a stretched wire—you realized he was serious.

You sighed. “You don’t have to—”

He stood without another word, leaned over, and slid one arm beneath your back, the other under your knees. The lift was smooth, practiced, as if you weighed nothing. As if you belonged there.

You didn’t speak again until you were returned, warm beneath the sheets, embarrassed by your own weakness.

He sat beside you this time. Close.

Not saying anything.

Not touching you.

Until his hand—calloused, heavy—reached out and brushed your wrist.

You froze.

His voice, when it came, was low and raw. Quiet.

“Do you remember… the day we named him?”

Samuel stirred slightly across the room, but you didn’t look.

You stared at Thragg, lips parting.

“You refused to name him after a Viltrumite general,” you whispered. “You wanted something… strong.”

“And you chose ‘Samuel.’ A name from your home world.”

You nodded.

“I hated it,” he admitted. “At first.”

Your heart clenched.

“But then I said it aloud. ‘Samuel.’ And I saw you smile.” He looked down now. At your hand. At your ring.

“I haven’t seen that smile in a long time.” You swallowed. “You stopped earning it.” He accepted that. Didn’t argue. Didn’t lash out. Just stared ahead for a moment, as if the room felt foreign to him now. “I thought if I distanced myself from you, you’d live longer. I thought I was protecting you by leaving.”

“And instead,” you said softly, “you raised our son without a father, and left me to rot in a palace full of breeders.” His jaw clenched.

“I hate them,” you whispered. “The insect women. I hate how they look at you. I hate how they’re allowed to bear your children. I hate that I’m the only one you abandoned.” Thragg looked at you then—fully. And for once, his expression didn’t shift into anger. Only pain. “I didn’t love them,” he said. “I don’t.”

You looked at him long and hard. “Do you love me?”

The silence stretched between you, vast and unbearable. Samuel had turned away. His back faced you both now. And still… Thragg didn’t speak. Instead, he reached forward and touched your stomach again, gently this time. Reverently.

“I’ve killed gods,” he said quietly. “Split planets. Dismantled empires. But nothing… nothing has ever scared me like this.” You placed your hand over his.

“You don’t need to say it,” you said. “Just… don’t let me die.” He looked at you like he couldn’t promise that. But he’d try. And for now… that was enough.

The doctors came every day.

Never the same ones. Always sterile, cautious, afraid of saying the wrong thing in front of Thragg. They poked and prodded, scanned and recorded, speaking in hushed tones while you lay still under their scrutiny. A vessel. A risk. A fragile relic too important to break. Thragg never left during the examinations.

He stood behind them, arms folded, eyes narrowed like he could see their thoughts forming before they were spoken. None of them lingered longer than necessary. None dared speak to you without permission.

But Samuel? He would arrive after the doctors left, slipping in with soil still under his fingernails and sun-warmed skin on his cheeks. He always wiped his hands before coming to your bedside, even though you’d told him you didn’t mind the dirt.

“White petals now,” he said one afternoon, settling in the chair beside you. “The ones on the east wall. Like the ones you called ghost-breaths?” You smiled faintly. “Baby’s breath. They’re not supposed to bloom this season.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “they’re blooming anyway. I guess no one told them the rules.” You laughed—weak, but real. He watched you like he was memorizing the sound. “I pulled some of the invasive stuff out, too. The blue-leafed vines. I think they were choking out the helianths.”

“Helianthus,” you corrected gently. “Sunflowers.”

“They looked angry,” he said. “Didn’t think flowers could do that.” You reached for his hand, fingers curling around his. “You always see what others don’t.” He glanced away, swallowing down something he couldn’t name. Thragg entered not long after. Samuel stood, instantly tense. Thragg didn’t acknowledge him. He rarely did.

Instead, he moved to your side, scanning your vitals on the monitor, then your face. “The doctors said your pressure’s stabilizing.” You nodded. “The pain is less frequent.”

Thragg looked down at you, studying the faint color that had returned to your cheeks. Then—unexpectedly—he reached for your hand. You saw Samuel stiffen in your periphery. He didn’t speak. But he watched. Thragg’s grip was steady. Large. Warm.

“You’ll be moved tomorrow,” he said. “A chamber with reinforced medical support. If something goes wrong, they’ll be able to operate within seconds.”

“You think something will go wrong?” His jaw tightened. “I think we don’t get to be unprepared anymore.”

Samuel cleared his throat behind him. “The flowers are blooming, you know. The garden looks more alive than it ever has.” Thragg didn’t turn. But he did pause.

“Good,” he said. Just that. And nothing else. Samuel didn’t expect more. He left a few minutes later, silent but not cold. When he was gone, you looked up at your husband. “You could try,” you whispered. “Try what?”

“Being his father. Not just his commander.”

Thragg didn’t answer. But his hand didn’t leave yours. And that night, for the first time in a long while, he stayed until you slept—listening to you describe your favorite flowers, and what they meant back on Earth.

He never responded. But he stayed. And you dreamed of ghost-breaths blooming through stone.

The new chamber was warmer than the last.

Not just in temperature—but in light. Panels along the curved walls shifted to mimic natural sunlight, and soft pulses of ambient sound tracked your breathing, regulating pressure and oxygen. You weren’t confined anymore; you were watched. Monitored like a priceless, failing star.

Thragg oversaw the transition himself. No guards, no aides, just him and Samuel—each stationed on either side of your hoverbed like sentinels escorting a queen.

The new bed was softer. Wider. Designed for prolonged stillness without pain.

And it worked.

Within two days, the tightness in your chest eased. The sharp pains dulled to a distant ache. You could sit upright without sweating through your gown. The color returned to your lips.

The doctors remarked on the improvement—whispering to one another outside the chamber, but not too far. Never out of Thragg’s reach.

He rarely left now.

He sat in the corner some nights, unmoving, eyes closed but never asleep. You could feel him even when he didn’t speak—like the gravity of a planet orbiting your body. Heavy. Constant. Absolute.

Samuel came every morning with garden updates, his voice still awkward when describing color and shape—but you didn’t care. He tried. That was more than enough.

“There’s these little green buds near the southwest wall,” he said one morning, perched near the window. “I think they’re lilies?”

“Not this season,” you murmured.

“Well,” he grinned slightly, “they didn’t get the memo either.” You chuckled, pressing a hand to your stomach. The child shifted—barely, but enough. “Did you feel that?” Samuel leaned closer.

You nodded slowly. “It was the first time.” The silence after that was full of wonder. Quiet awe. Samuel didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He just sat there, hands curled in his lap, breathing like he’d forgotten how. The door hissed open. Thragg. Samuel stood automatically. “Sit,” Thragg said. Not sharply. Just… tired. Samuel hesitated, then obeyed.

Thragg approached you and reached for the tablet at your bedside, reviewing the latest stats. His eyes flicked to the vitals—your heart rate, oxygen saturation, temperature. “Stabilized,” he muttered. “Finally.”

“I told you,” you said softly, “you don’t have to watch me sleep.”

“I’m not watching you sleep.” He glanced at your belly—then your face. “I’m watching you survive.” You blinked.

Samuel’s brow furrowed. “She’s getting better. Maybe… maybe that means she can carry to term this time.” Thragg’s silence was unreadable. Until: “She will carry to term. Even if it kills me.” You looked at him sharply. “That’s not the reassurance you think it is.” His eyes met yours. And for the first time, you didn’t see steel or stone or wrath. You saw a man terrified of losing you. Again.

You reached for his hand—and this time, he took yours first. A long moment passed. Then Samuel, voice low, awkward, but determined: “What are you going to name this one?” Thragg didn’t answer at first. Then: “I’ll let her decide.” You smiled. And the flowers, back in the garden, bloomed wild. Just like you.

The bath was deeper than you remembered—sunken into the floor with warm mist curling up the walls, filling the chamber with soft humidity. Steam clung to the mirrored panels overhead, blurring the reflections of your own exhausted body.

The water, scented with something floral—lavender, maybe, or one of the blends Samuel had started growing—wrapped around your skin like silk.

You weren’t alone.

Thragg was behind you in the water, silent and still, one leg bent beneath you to prop up your weight, the other stretched along the tiled edge. His bare chest pressed faintly against your back, radiating heat like a furnace. You didn’t look at him, not at first. You didn’t need to. You felt him.

He’d said nothing when he’d stepped into the water behind you. Just moved with gentle, deliberate care. His strength restrained.

A cloth touched your shoulder. Then your neck. Then lower—dragging slowly along your collarbone in soft, circular strokes. His hand followed it, firm and reverent.

He washed you in silence. Carefully.

Like he’d break you if he wasn’t gentle. Your breath caught when the cloth dipped under your arm. He hesitated there. “Too much?” You shook your head. He resumed—slower now.

Then leaned in. Pressed his mouth to your temple. Kissed it. Not once. But twice. And then again—on your cheek, your ear, your jaw. A map of small, searching apologies in the form of soft, hot breath. You turned to face him, and his hand came instinctively to your belly.

He rested it there. Still. Possessive in that strange, quiet way he only ever was when he thought no one could see. You looked up at him. Damp hair clung to your cheeks. He didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Just held you there with his hand over the life he’d helped create—and nearly lost.

Your fingers curled around his wrist. “You’re afraid,” you whispered. His jaw flexed. “I’ve seen what fear does to weak men.”

“But you’re not weak,” you said, leaning into his chest, heartbeat against heartbeat. “You’re terrified. And you’re still here.” Thragg’s throat worked with something unspoken. You felt his hand tighten gently over your belly.

He didn’t say “I love you.” He never did. But the way he looked at you then—Like you were the only thing keeping the stars from falling— Was enough.

It began in the dead of night.

A sharp, twisting pain that tore you from sleep with a choked cry. The sheets were damp beneath you—either sweat or water, you couldn’t tell—and your hand instinctively flew to your stomach.

You didn’t have to scream. Thragg was already there.

He sat up in the chair beside your bed before your breath could fully catch, eyes wild, all that quiet control fractured. You saw it in the way he reached for you with both hands—no hesitation, no thought of anything but you.

“It’s starting,” you gasped, curling into yourself. “Thragg—”

He was already lifting you, already barking something into the comm at the wall, already striding toward the surgical wing with you pressed tight against his chest. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin—faster than yours. His breathing was shallow. Panicked.

The medical team met him halfway, rushing to take you, but he didn’t let go.

“She’s mine,” he snapped. “I carry her.” They didn’t argue. They wouldn’t dare.

You were wheeled into a sterile, blinding room minutes later, Thragg beside you, hand locked with yours. Your body trembled—more from fear than pain now—and you could barely process the voices speaking around you, announcing vitals, rushing injections, calling for stabilizers.

Thragg bent low, his forehead brushing yours. His breath was sharp. “You will survive this.”

You nodded, vision swimming. “You better mean that.” His grip on your hand tightened.

Then came the real pain. Worse than the first. Worse than you remembered. Your body tried to split itself apart, lungs crushed beneath the weight of contractions that came harder, faster, more violently than expected.

“She’s hemorrhaging,” one of the doctors said sharply. “Vitals dropping—pressure’s unstable—”

“No,” Thragg said, and it wasn’t a protest.

It was a threat. “She. Is. Not. Dying.”

You tried to scream, but your breath caught on itself. Blood warmed your thighs. The machines shrieked with new alerts.

“Emergency extraction,” another voice snapped. “Prep for immediate operation—”

“No.” Your voice cracked. “No cutting—please. Let me do this.”

Thragg looked down at you—eyes burning. “If you die—”

“I won’t,” you hissed. “You won’t let me.” And when the final contraction hit, when your back arched and your mouth opened on a soundless cry, you felt the weight leave you—followed by a new sound.

A wail. Small. Loud. Alive.

And then— Silence. Before the doctor spoke, holding up the tiny, squirming figure. “A girl.”

Your eyes blurred. You tried to lift your hand. Thragg was already reaching for her. But he didn’t take her. He looked at her—really looked. And then turned to you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, voice low. “She has your mouth.” You laughed through a sob. “Poor girl.”

He didn’t smile. But he did place her—gently—against your chest.

And for the first time, he held both of you at once. Not as a warrior— Not as a ruler. But as a husband. A father. And the universe didn’t fall apart. It began again.

Samuel approached slowly, shoulders stiff like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He hovered just inside the doorway at first, glancing between you and the small bundle nestled against your chest. His eyes were wide—more curious than afraid—but he didn’t take another step until you smiled at him.

“She’s so small…” he whispered. His voice was reverent. “Was I this tiny as a baby?”

You chuckled softly, brushing your fingers through your daughter’s barely-there hair.

“Even smaller, believe it or not,” you said. “You were born premature. Spent the first few weeks in a stasis chamber. I wasn’t allowed to hold you without a respirator between us.”

Samuel looked stricken. “Really?”

You nodded, cradling the infant closer for a second. “But I still talked to you. Every single day. Even when no one else thought it’d matter.”

He blinked fast, swallowing hard. Then his gaze dropped to the baby again. His sister.

“Can I…” he hesitated, the question catching in his throat. “Can I hold her?”

You shifted carefully, and smiled. “Of course.”

You guided his hands gently—correcting the position of his arms, angling his posture, making sure he supported her head. She stirred as you placed her into his arms, her face wrinkling for a second, but then settling as his warmth surrounded her.

Samuel went still. Completely still.

His eyes locked on her face—on the tiny nose, the soft lashes, the way her fists curled near her chin.

“I didn’t think they were really this small,” he whispered, voice tight with awe. “She looks… like she doesn’t even belong here. Like she’s too soft for this world.”

“She is,” you said gently. “But she won’t stay that way.”

“She’ll be strong?”

“She’ll be herself.” You watched him with quiet pride. “And that’s more than enough.”

He looked up at you then, and for a moment—you could’ve sworn he was five again. That same look of wanting to be good. To do right. To make you proud.

“I’ll protect her,” he said.

You smiled softly. “I know.”

And in the corner of the room, Thragg stood silent, watching. Not commanding. Not correcting. Not looming.

Just… watching. And when Samuel looked his way—just briefly—Thragg gave the smallest nod. A recognition. One Samuel had waited a lifetime to see.

#thragg x reader #invincible thragg #grand regent thragg #thragg #invincible x you #invincible x reader #wife reader #x reader #reader insert #x female reader #happy ending

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 6 months ago

Text

Spooky Season | Halloween Event 2024

Demon With A Heart | Hongjoong

🧡 Pairing: Demon!Kim Hongjoong x Human!Reader

🖤 Requested by: @staytiny2000

🧡 Prompt: 20 - He's a demon with a heart.

🖤 Warnings: Italics is what Y/N is dreaming. Hongjoong threatens a child at the beginning. Murder. Alludes to domestic violence. Hongjoong watches Y/N sleep. Nightmares. Past Lives AU. A small plot twist at the end. This is definitely not as spooky as I wanted it to be. I'm sorry if these have been disappointing.

🧡 Word Count: 1,432

🖤 Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form. Please note that the halloween event taglist is included in the general taglist.

Spooky Season 2024 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Yu-Jun, stop!” A voice shouts over the bustling noise of the street Hongjoong finds himself on. Looking in the direction the voice came from, he spots a young boy, no older than five, sprinting towards the crosswalk without any intention of slowing down, while a woman races after him. There’s a mix of bystanders ignoring and watching the scene play out in front of them. None of them bother to help stop the runaway boy.

Hongjoong looks at the road, seeing an oncoming car and gets a quick flash of a vision where the approaching car collides with the boy. It's not until he looks back at the woman and sees her outstretched arms and pleading eyes urging him to do something. It causes something in his chest to flutter. Instinct kicks in, and he lunges forward, reaching out just in time to grab the child by the scruff of his neck. With a swift move, he pulls the boy back. The car zooms past, the driver oblivious to the near tragedy that could have just happened.

The boy wriggles in his grip, but Hongjoong holds onto him firmly, crouching down to meet his gaze. His eyes darken, becoming pitch black. “Do that again, I’ll drag you straight to hell myself, got it?” he warns the kid. The kid’s eyes widen with fear as he nods his head. “Good,” he finishes, patting the kid on the head and stands up to his full height just as the woman approaches. “You should really listen to your e-” he cuts himself off now getting a good look at the woman. She’s familiar. A little too familiar. “Y/N,” her name falls from his lips in a soft whisper as he watches her scold the boy.

At the sound of her name, she turns her attention Hongjoong, grasping Yu-Jun's hand tightly, making sure her doesn’t make another escape attempt. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asks, trying to recall if she’s seen him before.

He shakes his head, the fluttering in his chest replaced with something he hasn’t felt in over a century - heartache. “No,” he replies, his tone firm as he shifts from shock to a glare, looking at her and Yu-Jun with disdain. “Get your kid a leash or something,” he mutters before turning away and walking off.

“What was all that about?” San asks his superior when he joins him and Seonghwa again. The two demons had just witnessed what had happened. San, who hasn’t been around as long as Hongjoong and Seonghwa is clueless about how significant what just happened was for his captain. Always the curious one, Hongjoong couldn’t blame him for having questions.

“My past,” is all Hongjoong said as the head inside the club they often frequent.

“I thought they stopped giving her more lives,” Seonghwa says, thinking back to when he last encountered one of Y/N’s lives.

“That’s what they told me,” he says ordering a drink as they sit at the bar, “70 years ago.”

Later that night, Y/N is plagued by nightmares she can’t wake up from.

The darkness envelops her like a suffocating cloud and amplifies her racing heartbeat. The seeming human forms of the people around her twist and transform into hideous monsters, their forms shifting in ways that are unnatural and their eyes glow a blood-thirsty red. As she stands frozen in place, the ground beneath her begins to shake as the creatures encircle her, their deep growls mixed with the piercing screams of her son and deceased parents, echoes in her ears.

"Please, no," she whimpers, filled with fear as she desperately attempts to flee. Every step she takes is feels like a battle against an unseen force that pulls her back. The beasts close in, their claws scraping against the ground, leaving deep gouges in the dirt.

“STOP!” a deep, authoritative voice commands from behind her. Y/N turns around, her heart racing, scared of what could be there. As she searches for the source of the voice, the creatures part reverting back to their human form and reveal a figure draped in a black cloak. The figure imposing, with an aura of authority. “Leave,” the figure orders again. The creatures hesitate, their eyes darting between their master and Y/N, uncertainty flickering in their expressions. “NOW!” He yells causing the monsters and Y/N to flinch when they made no move.

He lowers his cloak and Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat seeing the man who saved her son standing there, a dark and menacing look on his face. A few of the creatures let out a disgruntled growl as they slinked back into the shadows, leaving the man with her.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice softer now as he holds his hand out towards her.

Y/N hesitates, her instincts screaming at her to run, but something holds her back. It’s a sense of familiarity that she can’t quite grasp. She's sure she hasn't seen this man until today. "Who are you?" she questions, placing her hand in his.

“Let me show you,” he says and waves a hand in front of him.

Suddenly, images begin to swirl around them. A young faceless girl and boy are seen running through the fields, playfully chasing each other.

As the scenes shift, they appear older; the girl is twirling to the melody played by a man with a guitar, while the boy sits nearby, completely captivated by her. The way he looks at her tells Y/N that this boy may have loved her more than he let on.

The next scene reveals the boy’s heartbreak as he watches the girl interact with a wealthier suitor, confirming Y/N’s suspicions.

The atmosphere shifts dramatically as the scene shifts once again. The boy, now a man, encounters the girl, now a woman, with her face marked with bruises and a deep sadness in her eyes. Y/N’s heart races as she watches the man’s reaction. An anger overcomes him as he reaches out to her, his expression a mix of concern and determination.

“What happened to her?” Y/N finds herself asking, her voice barely a whispers as it trembles with emotion.

The scene changes one final time, leaving Y/N horrified. Before her lies the woman on the ground, her body covered in bruises, with blood staining her chest and stomach. This time, she can clearly see the woman’s face. It’s her.

She stumbles back, her eyes widening in horror as her heart pounds in her chest. The man manages to steady her as the same man kneels beside her, his hands shaking as he cradles her head, tears streaming down his face, a raw expression of grief and helplessness.

“You were never supposed to marry your husband,” the man speaks, his lips close to her ear as they watch the scene in front of them unfolding. “We were supposed to run away together but we never got the chance to.”

Tears start to stream down Y/N's cheeks, feeling the overwhelming sadness and heartache coming from him in the scene that’s still playing.

“I found out that you had chosen him to save me,” he continues, his voice bubbling with rage. “But then I saw you in the market that day and something switched. We could no longer deny what was between us and we started making our plans to run away again, especially after you found out you were pregnant.”

Hearing the last part, her hands instinctively went to her stomach. She feels the phantom ache of a child she never had.

"He found out and had you murdered," he tells her. “And then I made a deal with the devil to make sure he will suffer an eternity in hell.” He turns her around to face him. “And now I’m making damn well sure the devil is keeping to his side of the deal.” Lifting a hand to her face, he cups her cheek and presses his lips softly to hers before pulling away before she could respond. “I really hope you remember this,” he says before waving his hand in front of her face and sending her into a dreamless sleep.

Hongjoong stands up straight as he watches her relax in her sleep, free from her nightmares. He brushes away a tear that has slipped down her cheek and takes a step back as she begins to stir. Before she can awaken, he slips out of her bedroom and enters the little boy's room. As Hongjoong looks down at the boy, there is no denying that the boy is his son.

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