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mastertitan2 · 22 days ago

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Pet Airman

Airman John Edmonds was enjoying his life in the U.S. Air Force, he joined a few years after high school. John felt like nothing was going his way he tried to get a scholarship to college but even though he was a great high school football player by his standards but not that of a college scout, his grades just were not top rated to achieve an academic scholarship so he decided that after a few years of working odd jobs around his home town, he knew there had to be more to life. One day while walking through the mall John ran into an Air Force recruiter who told him that he could always join the Air Force and get to see the world. John was intrigued so he hung around and talked with the recruiter some more, after several weeks and taking the ASFAB test he landed a high enough score to allow him into the Air Force. John jumped at the chance and signed the paperwork to join. John left for his basic training a few more weeks later and once he completed the training, he went on to his technical training school for his career in the military. He then completed his training and was on his way to his first duty assignment in North Texas.

John had arrived at DFW airport and was met by his sponsor from the base he would be stationed at. His sponsor Matt watched as John was walking towards him and he started sizing him up, thinking to himself, “my oh my what do we have coming here”. Matt was very much into guys but with the don’t ask don’t tell he kept it down low to where no one ever knew. Matt made it a point to get to know John very well throughout the next few months they hit a friendship that John never really had with anyone in the past he felt like he could tell Matt anything. One day John told Matt that he had met this beautiful girl, and he was deeply in love with her. Matt asked him, “are you sure?” John said he had never been surer in his life. Matt felt crushed inside, he had his own ideas about John but never told him because he did not want to lose him, but with this girl he knew he had to do something.

Matt asked John to go for a motorcycle ride with him this weekend and they could talk some more about it. Matt told John that he could borrow a spare set of gear from his locker when they ride. John told Matt, “Hell Yeah”. John would never miss a chance to ride with Matt. John always liked the white riding gear he said made him feel like he was so strong in it. It also made Matt like it when he wore it too. Matt would always watch how it contoured to his arms and legs and would accent the beautiful muscles beneath it. On this day though Matt told John to use the other boots instead since the white ones needed to have some work done on them. John did not question Matt on anything and said no problem.

Once John was fully geared up Matt told John to put on his helmet and pose for a picture, you new girl will love it. John shrugged and said sure no problem, unknown to John, Matt had arranged a little surprise for him. John put the helmet on and buckled it up and went for a pose as he squatted down, he felt like a prick in the back of his neck. John immediately went to reach for the helmet to take it off when Matt came up to him acting like he was going to help but instead tackled John to the floor. John started screaming at Matt and said what the hell man, get off me. John started noticing the slight feeling of light headedness as Matt said you’re going to be alright, just give it a few more minutes and you won’t feel a thing. John struggled to get up from Matt’s tackle and was able to knock him off he then was able to get the helmet off and throw it to the side as he was stumbling towards the front door of Matt’s house. Matt got up and tackled John one more time but this time he knocked john to the floor on his stomach. John started to scream, and Matt immediately took his gloved hand and placed it over John’s mouth to keep him quiet. John screamed into Matt’s hand more and more as the injection of a tranquiller serum was working on John. After a few more minute John passed out and Matt let out a sigh of relief.

Matt stood up and looked down at John and said you are one stubborn mule, and I am going to have a lot of fun turning you into my pet. Matt went into his bedroom and retrieved a pair of dirty, sweaty and reeky socks that he wore for two weeks and balled one up and stuck it inside the other. Matt then rolled John over onto his back and gently opened his mouth and shoved it in. Once it was in, he told John I could not have you disturbing my neighbors, so we must keep you quiet. Next Matt then went to his garage and retrieved a large roll of duct tape and proceeded to wrap several layers around the outside of John’s mouth sealing the socks inside. Next Matt then took and undid the zipper on the side of the suit and slid it down to reveal the sweaty grey t-shirt that John was wearing. Matt leaned in and took a large smell of the masculine sweaty body odor John had. Matt immediately got a twitch in his crotch and said you do not know how long I have thought about this. Matt said as he continued to remove the suit from John, that he had hoped that the two of them would have come together differently, but no matter, they were together now. When Matt had the suit and boots off John he then went to his front closet and retrieved a black duffle bag and opened it.

Inside the bag Matt had a leather straight jacket that he placed on John and sinched it up tight in the back he then placed a couple of small padlocks on it to prevent John from ever getting out of it. Next Matt pulled out a face harness that had a full leather cradle that would wrap around John’s chin and front portion of his mouth up to the bottom of his nose to prevent any real movement of the lower facial muscles and it would seal in the dirty, nasty socks in his mouth even more. The last thing Matt pulled out was a set of leather cuffs that he placed around John’s socked ankles of his feet and then he connected them together with a small one-foot chain, to prevent him from running away. Matt then reached down and picked John up, throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him into his garage where he opened a secret panel in the wall near his storage area that led to a padded inset in the wall that no one could ever tell was there. Matt then secured John inside the inset with some more leather straps and sat back and waited for the tranquilizer to wear off.

John started to come too after a few hours and as he started to shake off the effects of the tranquilizer, he noticed the feeling that his arms were crossing his chest and when he tried to move them, he could not. He looked down and saw that he was in a straight jacket. He also noticed that he was standing in his underwear and socks only with what appeared to be a pair of leg cuffs but made of leather around his ankles. As John was taking in his predicament, he heard Matt say, awesome your awake. John looked up and started to scream at Matt but all that came out was a few very low almost unheard grunts. John started to shake his head trying to dislodge the harness that Matt had placed over his facial area. Matt looked at John and said try as you might that it is not coming off and even if you were to somehow get it off you have 2 of my wonderful dirty socks that I wore for 2 weeks just for you balled up inside your mouth and several layers of duct tape wrapped around your head to seal them in.

John looked at Matt with pleading eyes to let him go. Matt then told John that this was all his fault, and he did this to him to keep him from losing him to that girl. John looked at Matt, confused and shocked and tried to talk to him but Matt then walked over closer to John and started to caress the straight jacket and John’s eyes got wide as he now knew that Matt was talking about something other than their friendship they once had. Matt then caressed John along his arms, his shoulders and then finally worked his way down to John’s crotch, where he took and grabbed his dick in his hand thru his underwear and squeezed them very hard. This made John start to cry, and Matt looked up and then leaned in and licked the tears running down his face. Matt said those are the sweetest tears he had ever tasted.

Matt said now I need to cover your disappearance and where you went too so no one will come looking for you here. I mean after all, since you are going to be here for as long as I deem it, we do not need anyone to snoop around. Matt then told John you be a good boy while he is gone, and we will continue our playing and training when I get back. With that Matt pushed the latch that had opened the inset and watched as it closed sealing John inside a Padded 2-foot-deep x 3-foot-wide padded area that no one would hear anything from inside. As the panel closed John tried as he could to scream for help, but nothing came out and once it was shut Matt left and proceeded to make John vanish from the real world and into his new life as Matt’s new pet.

#captured #guys in distress #restrained #kidnapped guys #troubleinuniform #bound male #nabbed #knockout

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smallestapplin · 5 months ago

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Unhinged idea but the reverse harem autobot series has activated every single neuron in my brain

Imagine if the human was in a harem with the decepticons instead and the autobots want to save them, fearing you were being forced into the decepticon’s love (and totally denying the fact that seeing you naked on camera got their spikes painfully hard)

Giving you free reign other than that because my brain is full of the idea and empty as well AUDJSKDJDJDHF

Keep up the good work man, love your transformer fics !! :3 /pos

-Fae (if that isn’t already taken ofc)

I so need to write more of these

Warnings : GN!Reader, cybertronian language is used as it's mainly from their POV, exhibitionism, noncon voyeurism, noncon recording

Minors do NOT interact! 18+ only

You were spotted by pure accident, in fact it was truly a miricale in the first place anyone outside of the decepticons had seen you, but it was Jazz who raised the alarm that the cons had kidnapped a human that left the autobots fuel lines freezing up.

Out on a casual drive Jazz had spotted Knockout not too far away, the con in a line up ready to street race it seemed, but something was different.

And that something was the cute human sitting in the driver's seat. He managed to radio Prowl, swiftly telling him the situation, but by the time the cop bot arrived you and the con were gone. Which left them arguing the whole way back to base.

informing the others was a whole different matter.

"Why didn't you stop him!?" Ironhide shouts, followed by Prowl agreeing with him.

So much yelling and for what?

"Alright that's enough! Jazz, you did the right thing, you could have put the human's life in danger interfering alone."

"But, Prime-"

"No, Ironhide, we need to save that human frm their clutches, but we can't do that if they are harmed or killed in the crossfires or because Megatron doesn't want to let his 'prize' go."

Ironhide growls under his breathe, angry that Prime is right, even if it means someone innocent is in the decepticons grasp. Your safety is their biggest concern, who knows what the cons are putting you through or even doing to you! Them rushing in head frsit will just put you, and subsequently them, in more danger.

They need to get on that ship and survey the area and situation, then they can go about the safest way of getting you out of there with little damage. Maybe thats how Mirage ended up on the Nemsis, invisible to the decepticons that he was careful to walk around as to not alert them.

He has a live feed right to base, so they can see everything he sees while he looks around, sneaking into room after room, peering in and looking for the little human. After the fifth room he forgets it and walks down the hallway, being sure to move out of the way for any con on patrol.

"This is pointless, if we storm them and take them by surprise we'd get that human out for sure!"

Optimus shakes his head, "Not nessecarily, if we do then one of the cons could grab the human a flee."

Bee huffs, though its a mask to hide the worry he feels watching the footage of Mirage walking through the hallways of the enemies ship, listening to their conversations of Knockout and Breakdown

"Seems lord Megatron isn't too happy."

"Yeah, I wonder whos fault that is."

"Our sweetspark wanted out to walk around, how is that my fault!?"

Our?

Sweetspark?

Optimus doesn't take his optics off the screen, even as the whispers and worried words fill the air behind him.

"Did they take a human for themselves?"

"Oh primus, they are using them as a stress toy! That poor person is probably being tortured!" Bumblebee screeches.

Prowl and Ironhide glare at the screen, muttering under theirs breathes, wanting to beat those decepticons helms in.

Ratchet keeps his optics on the screen, scowl on his face, though he can't lie about the worry eating at his spark. Are you okay? He doesn't know enough about human's fragile bodies, so could he ensure you lived long enough to get to a medic who knew what they were doing?

The room quickly falls silent as a sound grows louder and louder. Heads turn back to the screen, watching as Mirage follows quickly behind shockwave, thankfully still undetected, but the sight that greets them leaves their intakes dropped open.

Megatron, with a servo around you, thrusting his spike as deep as he could make it go.

You're sobbing, overloading, begging for him to slow down.

"Aren't you being a bit rough with them? Surely, humans are too squishy for such treatment." Shockwave spoke, merely walking towards where he left his data pad, as if this was completely normal.

"They like it. Isn't that right, pet?" Megatron grinds his spike into you, smirking as you cry out.

"Yes! Yes! M'sorry I should've asked-fuck! Megatron, please...!" You throw your head back, sobbing as it appears you've overloaded again.

Megatron vents, but his smirk never falters.

"So cute like this, taking my spike like you were meant to."

"I told you humans needed more enrichment, they would not have left with Knockout had you given them things to do while we are all busy."

Megatron's face plate twists into a scowl "Silence, Shockwave, as leader they are my Conjunx Endura first, the rest of the ship is just their...consorts."

Mirage is frozen in his spot, unable to look away from you taking such a massive spike in your little valve, and the other autobots are much the same.

So this is how they are using you? But what Megatron said, they couldn't possibly courted a human, they hate humans! Unless its...no, they'd never go that far, would they?

Hot Rod glances around the room, hoping to not be the only one finding the scene before them hot, but he can't read them.

Maybe it's just him, but seeing your soft body mold to the shape of the spike fragging you so good gets his engines purring.

He shouldn't, this is wrong on so many levels and a complete invasion of privacy. But to see your valve overflowing with transfluid like this, it gets him going.

You whimper, your optics look glazed over as you barely manage to look up at Megatron, who can't help but coo at you.

"Have you learned your lesson, dear?"

You fall limp once more in his hold, though you nearly cry once he pulls you off his spike, letting the transfluid pumped into you drop out.

"I did...I'll ask you next time, I promise."

Megatron chuckles, tenderly rubbing his thumb across your cheek, looking at you in such a loving way.

"Good. Now, I have things to attend to, but since you need so much attention, I'm sure Soundwave wouldn't mind keep you occupied."

The blue mech stands up straighter, moving away from his work station and swiftly goes right passed an unamused Shockwave.

Your gaze meets his red visor, which seems to glow. His servos shaking slightly as he takes you from Megatron, uncaring for his leader and Shockwave to make their exit, leaving him with you.

Mirage, despite his illusion feels as though he's exposed, perhaps now is his chance to leave-

Soundwave doesn't get long with you before Starscream barges in, loudly demanding his Conjunx Endura though Soundwave is not amused.

Just when he was getting his alone time too.

Optimus can't take this anymore, comming Mirage to get out of there now.

"Skyfire, go to the Nemesis and get Mirage."

The large mech jumps at his name being called, his face plate bright blue as he squeaks out a 'ok' and rushes out.

Ironhide is beyond appalled, how could those cons do that to you!? But...oh, oh Primus he wants to hold you down and let you take his spike.

The shared thought among the autobots was 'does their valve feel that good the decepticons are willing to share them?'

But oh they want to find out.

Their spikes are pressing against their modest plating, watching such a moment like that was too much for them-

"W-wait I'm-ohhh...fuck!" You squeal, body shaking from your used hole being filled again.

The room is filled with the sound of all their heads snapping to the screen, Mirage didn't seem to have moved, unable to look away or even turn the camera off.

Faintly they can hear Starscream arguing with Soundwave (though it's one sided) as Soundwave gently works his spike into your used valve.

"How dare you, it should be my turn to use their valve!"

"They were given to me, so silence." Soundwave doesn't entertain more of Starscream, focusing on you and pleasuring you.

The doors open once more, giving Mirage time to slide out unnoticed, but just enough to see Breakdown, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the constructions following suit before the doors close.

Just how many spikes were you taking?

Just how many times a day?

"I uh, I need to go drive- Right, patrol!" Hot Rod and Bee jump up, rushing out of the room in seperate directions.

"Prime?"

Prowl looks to his leader as the larger bot holds his helm in his servos.

Optimus can't face him, he can't face anyone! Why did he like that so much? He should be ashamed, disgusted, but oh Primus above you were quite the addicting sight.

He needs you.

Frag, he shouldn't be thinking like that.

"Optimus, what is our game plan."

Jazz's stern voice cuts through his thoughts.

"I won't be easy, but we need to tread carefully."

Surely it shouldn't be too hard to obtain you, right? It's for your safety after all.

#smut #spicy #🔞🔞🔞#transformers smut #valveplug #transformers x reader smut #transformers Megatron x reader #transformers Soundwave x reader #transformers Megatron x reader smut #transformers decepticons x reader smut #transformers x reader #mdni

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months ago

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Ghost Driver 4

masterpost

Danny was starting to suspect he had kidnapped a child. He rapped his fingers against the steering wheel nervously. Jeeze. That was bad. Was Danny the stranger danger? He hit the brakes hard and turned the wheel hard to pull off a parking trick. He didn’t intend to be the stranger danger!

‘I think that is a human child. Wow, I hate myself.’ Danny turned off the car and resisted the urge to beat himself into unconsciousness against the steering wheel. ‘But he’s been helpful. Maybe it’s fine?’

He put that anxiety away to deal with later.

“Here we are.” Robin unbuckled gingerly, another nail in the coffin he definitely didn’t have. What kind of ghost would use a seatbelt? Danny wanted to slap himself in the face. Maybe Robin didn’t know what Danny had thought. He hadn’t called him a ghost, right? Not directly. Maybe there was a way out of this social situation that wouldn’t be really awkward.

‘He appeared out of like, nowhere,’ Danny defended himself miserably. ‘In a graveyard! He moves weird- he’s just a spooky little guy.’

It was probably the kind of mistake that anyone could make.

Whatever.

He let Robin take the lead, mind and stomach churning. This had been such a weird day. First off, Victor had turned out to be not Victor, and also to be a total knockout babe. Then, Jay did like, a big hero thing promising to keep Danny safe and kissed his hand and—

His face burnt at the memory. Anyway, of course he was trying to find the guy. Anyone would want to secure a date.

‘I am starting to wonder if he’s dead, though, and I just didn’t notice. The news articles about his death and also the headstone are pretty compelling evidence. Did I fail to notice he was dead?’

In past he would have said “fat fucking chance, I am an expert.” But, uh.

‘It’s not like I’ve never been fooled before. I thought Spectra was alive at first. And...’

He cut a look at Robin. Christ, his chest was expanding. Yeah, he was breathing. Danny wound fingers through his hair and pulled. Real. Human. Child. He grimaced.

He was going to jail for like, ever.

“I’m a disgrace to ectology and the afterlife,” he said mournfully.

Robin cut him a surprised look, movement sharp and aptly birdlike. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Danny dismissed. “Get the door open, it’s fine.”

“Like it’s that easy,” Robin muttered, but he went back to whatever arcane stuff he was doing. Because he was not a ghost, and couldn’t just phase through. Danny stuck his hands in his pockets, resigned to seeing how this played out.

It took Robin nearly ten minutes to disarm the security system, but he opened the door to the safe house gingerly. Nothing shot them.

“Lemme go first,” Danny said, because he sort of still hoped that Batman wouldn’t break his fingers with a novelty bat-shaped hammer for this offense. He edged past Robin and into the apartment. He flicked on a light. “Oh, there he is,” Danny said, relieved.

Robin ducked in under his shoulder shockingly fast. “Jason?” He pulled up short.

“Yeah, he’s out of it,” Danny agreed. Jason was slouched on the sofa, hand hanging over the side. He had some kind of road rash up the side of his face, scabbing up to his left ear. He had bandages around a hand and his neck. He had stripped down to the sleeveless undershirt and sports leggings. Unf.

“Nice,” Danny said appreciatively.

“Is he dead?” Robin asked, sotto voice.

Danny shrugged. “Not more dead than he was before?” He hedged.

“….Are there quantifiable variations of being dead?” Robin asked.

Shit. Danny went stiff. “No, finish your milk,” he snapped.

“I’m… not drinking any milk.”

Danny frowned, thrown off his groove.

Right. This wasn’t the neighbor’s kid he occasionally babysat. That tactic wouldn’t work to shut down unwanted questions. Or would it?

“Go get some, the kitchen is over there.”

Robin stood still and looked very offended. That was good enough. Danny pushed past him to check Jason over a little more closely. He noticed a cheap flip phone on the floor near where his hand was dangling. He picked it up to see a message on the screen that said “serry I canf come but I call latert”. It was unsent. He checked. It was almost directed to his phone: Jason had gotten the last digit wrong.

“Aww,” Danny said, charmed. “He tried.” He snapped the phone shut and made sure the guy was breathing and not bleeding through his bandages or anything. Danny checked the color of his fingernails for oxygen discoloration, his heart rate, his pallor. He finished and stood back with his hands on his hips.

“Well?” Robin snapped.

Danny shrugged. “His blood is inside? I’m not a doctor yet and it’s not like there’s any equipment here. His pulse is fine, color looks good…” He scratched the back of his head. “I think he’s just sleeping off a concussion.”

“A concussion?” Robin’s voice went high.

Jason groaned, head lolling.

“He’s up!” Danny hovered off the ground. “Hey, you undead?” He poked at Jay’s chest gently.

Jay batted at his hand, poorly. It didn’t connect. “Mm not dead anymore,” he complained, face scrunched up. “Joker’s not dead either. Leave me to suffer.”

“…Do you want Joker dead?” Danny asked. He cocked his head to the side. “I think we can hide that.” There was nothing saying that a prisoner transferred to the Infinite Realms had to be kept there alive. In fact, it might be more convenient for Walker if the guy fit his usual prisoners’ general description.

“We can not hide that,” Robin interrupted. Party pooper.

He cut a sideways glance at the child. Hmm. “Isn’t it your bedtime?” Danny asked casually. They needed to ditch him to get anything done.

“It’s time for breakfast,” Robin snarked. “Look outside.”

“…Do I have to feed you?” Danny asked, alarmed by the expanding nature of responsibility. He didn’t wait for a response, because it was obvious. When you cart around a child, you have to feed them at mealtimes. What did Jay even have in this kitchen? Danny wasn’t a particularly accomplished cook. He crossed the apartment in a panic to peer around the fridge.

12 eggs, still within date. Uh… there was some butter in the fridge as well, and milk with two days left. He shook the carton. Basically full. Um…. He opened cupboards in search of carbs. Nothing.

“Freezer,” Robin suggested.

Danny checked. “I didn’t know you could freeze bread.” He turned it over in his hands dubiously. “Okay… toast and eggs.”

Thank god he didn’t have any classes today. He was going to crash so hard once he’d finished everything important.

Jason didn’t react to anything they had said or done. Danny stuck his head out of the kitchenette to squint at him. The guy was still immobile on the sofa.

“Maybe breakfast is what he needs,” Danny decided, dubious. But that was a real thing! People need food to recover. Calories might help him.

Robin perched on the counter and watched Danny with a weird intensity. “I’m just melting butter in a warm pan,” Danny told him. Maybe the kid didn’t know how to cook. “Wanna help? Put the bread in the toaster.”

Robin didn’t move. “You’d better do it.”

…weird.

Danny took out two slices of frozen bread and stuck them in the toaster. “It’s easy, bro,” he said, nonplussed. “Insert, and pull this lever down.” He demonstrated. “Check the time— I’ve got it for two minutes, it probably won’t be enough but we can check on it.”

He turned back to the fry pan. The butter was bubbling now. He cracked two eggs in. It sizzled pleasantly.

The sound helped him think things through. How was he going to do this? Skulker might fight to keep his new guest. And Walker- Danny grimaced. Walker had never really forgiven him for that prison break thing.

‘I might need to lean on someone else’s authority,’ Danny mused. ‘Walker respects other cops. So I should, like, get that police guy to come and ask for the paperwork directly.’

It felt like no time at all until he scraped an egg off onto a piece of toast and handed it to Robin. He put the other on a plate and made one more toast and egg for Jay.

Robin followed him to the living room, toast in hand.

“Go on, eat up.” Danny shoved his own toast into his mouth in one ghastly crunch. His cheeks stuck out as he began chewing on it. Then he plopped down on the floor next to Jay and started prodding his face again. “Hey. Hey.” Poke. “Breakfast.”

Jay groaned. He unsuccessfully tried several times to bat Danny’s hand away, but eventually gave up and clutched the open-faced sandwich.

“Gucky,” Danny said, observing the very odd way Jason was gripping the egg directly. Yolk leaked out under his middle finger. But he ate it, though, so it was fine.

He turned on Robin when he remembered he was there. “Can you get home by yourself?” He asked.

Robin looked at him with his creepy white eyes. “…No.” His wrist was flashing red. Was that like, a bird message system? Was it some kind of alarm going off because he had gone out of the acceptable Robin roaming range? Robin was pretending not to notice it.

Danny groaned and let his head rest against Jason’s leg. “Fine,” he complained. “Uh. I’ll take you home, then go move the Joker, get paperwork from Walker, and come back to give it to- what’s up?” He looked up through his bangs. Jason had grabbed onto his hair.

“Joker?” He peeled an eye open. “No…”

“You heard the man,” chirped Robin. “He doesn’t want you to interfere with the course of justice.”

Jason, Danny discovered, still had the egg yolk in his hand. He discovered this because Jason flung it dead center on Robin’s face.

“Ha,” Danny said. The child was a downer, what could he say? “I think he wants me to interfere with the course of justice,” he parroted snootily. Even though that wasn’t at all what was going on.

“Dangerous,” Jason said. He peeled one bloodshot eye open. He looked terrible.

“You look awful,” said Danny. “Lie down- no, don’t get up, what are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” Jason grunted. He waved a hand at Robin. “And this hallucination of my childhood innocence.”

“Actually-“

“Sh.” Robin rushed to get the door open. “Support his arm, will you?”

“You still have an egg face,” Danny told him sulkily. He picked Jason up effortlessly. He ignored the muttered:

“I can fly?”

from his passenger. “Come in, bird, we gotta get you home before someone murders me.” Danny jangled the keys and sunk down through the floor to make a point. Robin’s shouted “hey!” was muffled through the floor. Danny snickered and settled Jason in the passenger seat.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #red ghost driver

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delulustateofmind · 19 days ago

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With All My Heart, Will You Be Mine?

Sum: Happy Valentine's Day!

Yan! Yakuza Gojo x Reader

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Stalking, Kidnapping, Medical Horror, Graphic violence/torture, Terminal Illness (Reader), Blood, Gore, Dubcon kisses, Masturbation (Gojo), Manipulation, Forced Surgery, mentions of murder. MDNI

WC: 5.8k

A/n: Thank you 💖 anon for feeding me yummy ideas, lots of smoochies for you. You will receive my kidney for Valentine's day, keep it safe, use it for school! MWAH!

Really, truly - Gojo Satoru didn’t believe in love at first sight.

Lust at first sight? Absolutely. Intrigue at first sight? Happens all the time. But love? The heart-pounding, palm-sweating, head-spinning kind that made fools of otherwise rational men? No.

He was a romantic, sure, but not delusional.

And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of a dingy little house in Tokyo, meant to be handling business like the good little Yakuza heir he was, only to be hit with something so absurd, so world-altering, so utterly ridiculous that it left him breathless.

And on Valentine’s Day, no less.

It was almost poetic, if not for the fact that he should have been spending his evening hunting for buy-one-get-one-free desserts, maybe stuffing his face with something obscenely sweet, letting powdered sugar melt on his tongue instead of dealing with this nonsense.

Instead, he was here, wasting time on a pathetic excuse of a man who had made one too many promises and delivered on exactly none.

The debtor knelt before him, flanked by two of his men, the poor bastard's shoulders hunched, his body shaking so violently that the faint sound of his teeth chattering filled the otherwise silent room.

Satoru sighed, rolling his shoulders, letting his hands flex, testing the weight of his own strength. A simple knockout, maybe - if the guy was lucky. If he wasn’t, well, there were other ways to collect.

If you can’t pay up, surely your organs can.

His fingers curled into a loose fist, knuckles shifting beneath his skin, ready to land a single, decisive blow. His arm swung back, muscles tensing, the force behind it measured yet lethal.

He missed.

His knuckles cut through empty space.

The Gojo Satoru, who never missed, whose strikes always found their target with effortless precision, had missed.

Something lurched inside him. Something sharp, something foreign, something completely uninvited. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, his chest seizing up with a feeling that sent his pulse stammering, erratic.

The air in the room shifted, charged, like static clinging to his skin, humming beneath his fingertips, curling tight around his throat like an invisible wire. His breath hitched, a sharp, unexpected inhale that felt too much, too rapid, too overwhelming.

His body, his very existence, felt like it had been shoved off balance.

And all because of a picture frame.

A broken one, at that. Glass shards, littered the floor, glinting under the dim overhead light. His gaze flickered downward, catching the jagged fragments scattered like slivers of ice against the worn wooden planks.

And nestled between them, half-buried beneath the wreckage, was you.

His fingers twitched.

His chest ached.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head, forcing himself to move slowly, as if rushing might break the spell of this moment. His gaze briefly flickered toward Ijichi, who stood stiffly near the door, face pale, fingers twitching at his sleeves.

Satoru ignored him, poor Ijichi's silent pleas to please get this over with. Instead, he bent down, his long, gloved fingers ghosting over the broken glass before carefully lifting the frame from the mess. His movements were strangely reverent, cautious in a way that had nothing to do with avoiding injury and everything to do with the image trapped behind the cracked glass.

You.

Oh.

His throat tightened.

A snapshot of softness. A moment of warmth and light and everything gentle in a world that had only ever been sharp edges and raw violence to him. His fingers trembled slightly as he turned the frame over, gloved knuckles brushing against the broken glass, the sting of tiny cuts breaking through the protective barrier. Satoru barely noticed. The world had already tilted.

His breath came faster, shallower, something hot and unfamiliar crawling up his spine. His face felt warm. Too warm. Heat bloomed beneath his skin, creeping up from his chest, spilling up the curve of his throat, flushing the tips of his ears. His pulse—normally steady, untouchable—stammered, then slammed against his ribs, hammering like a war drum inside him.

His brain wasn’t working, actually Satoru's entire body was doing things it shouldn’t be doing. The way his fingers curled tighter around the frame, pressing it against his chest like something precious, something irreplaceable, something already his.

And then—before he could stop himself—

He giggled.

A soft, breathless little sound, slipped past his soft pink lips without his permission, without his control. The feeling was utterly foreign to him, so completely out of place in this bloodstained room, that even the lackeys flinched.

The debtor—poor bastard, still kneeling, still hoping for mercy—dared to look up. His breath stuttered, a trembling, desperate sound escaping his lips when he caught the sight of Satoru, hunched over the picture frame, grinning like he had just discovered the meaning of life.

And then, in a panic-stricken voice, hoarse and broken, he begged.

“T-That’s my daughter,” he gasped, voice cracking, his entire body lurching forward before the men at his sides yanked him back into place. “P-Please! Please, don’t - d-don’t hurt her, please!”

Satoru stilled for a few beats. His long fingers twitched against the frame, his grip tightening just slightly. Slowly, he raised his gaze, sharp blue eyes gleaming, amusement flickering beneath something far, far more dangerous., a fool in love.

A moment of silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Satoru let out another breathless, giddy laugh.

“Oh,” he murmured, his voice a shade too light, a whisper too smooth. “Your daughter?” tilting his head, lips parting slightly, like he was tasting the words, rolling them around on his tongue just to see how they felt. Satoru's pulse was still racing, breathing still felt too fast, face still burned.

What a beautiful feeling. Love was truly a beautiful thing, he was a fool for thinking overwise. His lips curved into a lazy, lovesick smile. A slow exhale left him as he traced his thumb over the crack in the glass.

“What a lucky man you are,” Satoru mused, voice warm, teasing, almost affectionate. “To have someone so precious.”

Satoru's fingers curled tighter around the frame, pressing it against his chest like he could sink it into himself, steal you away, make you his. Careless to the shards of glass pressing themselves into his shirt, sodden with blood.

And then, with a soft, almost dreamy sigh, he whispered into the room -

“Oh, I think I’m in love.”

The debtor was still babbling, breath coming in ragged little gasps, his face pale and sweat-slicked, as if he expected Gojo to snap him in half at any second.

Poor guy.

Satoru’s expression shifted the sharp gleam in his eyes melting into something lighter, dreamier. His lips curled into a soft, almost fond smile, the heat still high on his cheeks as he turned his attention back to the trembling man kneeling before him.

A soft chuckle left him - light, airy, amused.

"I think we got the wrong guy, Ijichi-san," he mused, voice kept casual, lilting as if discussing the weather. Ijichi stiffened from his place near the door, blinking rapidly behind his fogged-up glasses, clearly unsure whether to be relieved or terrified. Still kneeling, leaned in just slightly, one gloved hand reaching out to cup the debtor’s jaw.

The man flinched hard.

His entire body shuddered, a choked sound spilling from his lips, but Satoru’s touch was shockingly gentle - a stark contrast to the raw strength curled beneath his fingers. His thumb stroked slowly along the man’s cheek, a featherlight touch, almost affectionate as if comforting a dear old friend.

Then - he patted his cheek. Soft. Reassuring. And yet, something far, far worse than a punch.

Because Gojo Satoru was smiling.

Not his usual cocky smirk, not the smug little grin of a man who enjoyed toying with his prey - but something softer.

Something warm.

Something that didn’t belong in a bloodstained room.

His head tilted slightly, bright blue eyes twinkling, the blush still lingering across his pale skin as he murmured, voice dipped in unsettling fondness -

"My apologies, father-in-law."

The debtor let out a broken sob.

The room was silent, tense, like everyone was waiting to see if their boss had finally snapped. He swallowed hard, forcing down the giddy little laugh bubbling up his throat. He needed to—no, he had to—figure this out. He had to figure you out.

Satoru was still thinking about you, even during his long day of hard work. Ah, he should be charging your rent for invading his mind like this!

The poor businessman in front of him wailed, body jerking violently against the restraints, but Satoru barely acknowledged it. He twirled the bloodied pliers between his fingers, splattering droplets of red onto the floor, his mind elsewhere.

“You guys ever been in love?”

The lackeys standing near the wall exchanged uneasy glances.

“U-uh… boss?”

Satoru hummed softly, affectionately as if he hadn’t just ripped a nail from the man’s hand a second ago. He turned to one of the lackeys, holding up the pliers like a microphone.

“Be honest with me. What’s the best way to impress a girl?”

Silence.

Even the poor bastard tied to the chair stopped whimpering. The loan sharks shifted uncomfortably, like they weren’t sure if this was a trick question.

Gojo sighed, tapping the pliers against his chin. Careless to the blood staining his pale skin.

“See, I’m thinking flowers - girls like flowers, right? But that feels so… normal.” Voice coming out light, thoughtful, as if he were discussing dessert options instead of dating strategies while actively torturing someone.

A lackey gulped. “Uh… I-I guess girls like grand gestures?”

Satoru’s head snapped up. Oh. Ohhh. That was good. That was so good. Satoru's grin stretched wider, his body practically vibrating with excitement.

“That’s what I was thinking too! Maybe I could make a little event out of it.” He flexed his fingers around the pliers before suddenly plunging them back into the man’s hand, gripping tight around another nail. The man wailed, body convulsing, but Satoru just clicked his tongue.

“Stay still, I’m having a moment here.”

He wrenched the pliers back with an almost theatrical flourish, watching as the nail came free, dripping red. He turned it between his fingers, examining it as he continued, “Like, I could just show up and say, ‘Hi, I’m your new boyfriend,’ but I dunno… that lacks finesse, don’t you think?”

Another lackey hesitated. “Uh… maybe you should… get to know her first?”

Satoru gasped. Ohhh. His fingers twitched, his pulse spiking, excitement crawling up his spine. “That’s a great idea! I should do some research. Find out what she likes, where she goes, who she spends time with - ”

He sighed dreamily, resting his chin on his gloved palm, pliers still in his grasp. “Ahh, this is so exciting. Who knew I’d find love on Valentine’s Day?”

The lackeys exchanged horrified glances.

The man in the chair sobbed.

Gojo barely noticed.

He was too busy imagining what kind of flowers you’d like.

Like any devoted future husband, he did his research.

By the time he finally stepped out of the shower after his long, excruciatingly confusing day—one he would rather you never know about—he had already started planning.

Steam curled in lazy ribbons around the dimly lit bathroom, clinging to the warm air like a ghost of the heat that had soaked into his skin. Water dripped from his snow-white damp hair, collecting in cool rivulets as they rolled down the sculpted lines of his collarbone, tracing the dip of his spine before vanishing into the plush towel slung around his waist. The overhead light flickered faintly against the condensation beading along the mirror, his reflection hazy and unfocused.

Satoru dragged a hand through his messy, damp white locks, pushing them back from his forehead, his fingers catching briefly on stubborn strands. He let out a slow breath, watching as the fogged-up mirror distorted his image, his usually sharp features blurred at the edges. For a moment, he simply stared, tilting his head slightly, his glowing blue eyes piercing through the humidity with an intensity that felt foreign, even to him.

His face felt… different.

He knew himself, had spent years looking at this very reflection - at the striking symmetry of his features, the lazy curve of his mouth, the effortless charm that had always drawn people in. But now? Now there was something wrong.

Or maybe something right.

His cheeks were warm, a soft flush spreading across his pale skin, settling stubbornly beneath his eyes, along the bridge of his nose. His lips—usually curled in an easy smirk, something smug and sharp-edged—felt softer, stretched into a stupid, giddy smile that he couldn’t seem to wipe off.

His fingers twitched at his sides, a restless, barely contained energy coiling under his skin. He could feel the uneven rhythm of his own pulse, the unsteady way it hammered against his ribs - too fast, too eager, like something wild and untamed.

A shaky laugh slipped from his lips, barely above a whisper, and immediately pressed his knuckles against his mouth, trying to stifle the ridiculous giggle that threatened to bubble up again.

Oh, what the fuck was this?

His stomach clenched - not in discomfort, not in anger, not in anything he could name. The feeling felt like being electrocuted. It felt like a freefall, plummeting into something dark and bottomless, with no hope of stopping. His chest ached, a tight pull between his ribs, something raw and desperate.

This wasn’t normal.

Nothing about this was normal.

Satoru’s fingers curled into the edge of the sink, gripping the cold marble, but it did nothing to steady him. He let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the haze filling his head, thick and suffocating. He needed to focus.

His smirk twitched, wavering for just a second before solidifying again, as he forced himself to breathe, to remember why he was here in the first place.

He had a plan.

Of course, he already knew he’d have to privatize a lot of your information. It wasn’t safe for someone as delicate, as beautiful as you to be left unprotected.

A beauty like you? Out in the open?

Far too dangerous.

You were just waiting to be taken, waiting for someone less deserving to snatch you up before he had the chance to make you his. The very thought sent an ugly, seething heat curling low in his stomach, his jaw tightening at the idea of someone else even thinking they had the right to look at you.

And then there was your father. Reckless. Stupid. Careless. Gambling away money, selling away your future with every thoughtless bet. If someone had to pay for his mistakes, it wouldn’t be you. It wouldn’t ever be you.

Satoru sighed, wiping the condensation from the mirror with the heel of his palm, only for it to fog up again seconds later. The humidity clung to him, soaking into his flushed skin as his gaze flickered toward the glow of his phone screen.

His research was proving… interesting.

His body froze.

The warmth in his chest twisted, coiling tighter, tighter, tighter, something sharp lodging itself behind his ribs. His breath caught, his fingers tightening around the cold marble of the sink.

He blinked once.

Twice.

The words didn’t change.

Waitlisted for a heart transplant.

His stomach dropped.

For a moment, he could do nothing but stare, his vision blurring, as if the letters themselves were somehow wrong, as if seeing them enough times could make them disappear, could make them not real.

His throat was dry, the earlier lightheaded giddiness evaporating, replaced by something heavy and unfamiliar.

A slow breath, shaky and uneven, pushed past his lips.

Then another.

His heart stuttered.

Then picked up again, pounding, throbbing, screaming against his ribs with a force that almost hurt.

His lungs felt tight.

This—this wasn’t—

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

His stomach twisted violently, sickening nausea curling through him as he forced himself to swallow, his fingers digging into the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white.

He could fix this.

Of course, he could.

It was so simple.

Well.

He could just give you his.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. His own ridiculous, hopelessly lovesick heart—wasn’t it already yours?

Wasn’t it already beating for you, racing every time he thought about you?

He wanted you to have it.

Wouldn’t that be perfect? Wouldn’t that be romantic?

A tremor ran through his shoulders, something between a laugh and a shaky exhale, his body shuddering under the weight of the thought. He grinned, wide and almost delirious, his fingers drumming absently against the counter, a restless, frantic energy buzzing under his skin.

Oh.

Different blood types.

The air seized in his lungs.

An awful thing, really. A tragedy. A fucking crime.

It would have been the greatest honor - to have his very own heart inside your body, keeping you alive, keeping you safe, ensuring that he was always with you, always the one keeping you beating.

His grip on the counter tightened, his fingers trembling slightly as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool mirror. His stupid, desperate, lovesick heart was still hammering, pounding so hard it hurt, and—

And he just knew.

No one else could have you.

You were his.

And if fate wasn’t going to let him keep you safe the way he wanted, then— - He’d just find another way.

A soft, breathless giggle slipped from his lips.

It was almost sweet.

Oh.

Oh, he loved this.

You were going to love him too.

Satoru wasn’t sure how he ended up here, standing in the soft glow of your hospital room, arms full of entirely too many roses, pretending he didn’t just spend weeks memorizing everything about you.

This was supposed to be casual. A natural, effortless, totally normal meeting where he charmed his way into your life like it was meant to be. And it was meant to be, of course - he already decided that long before you even knew his name.

But none of his meticulous planning, none of the hours of preparation, none of it prepared him for this.

Because now that he was actually standing in front of you, he could feel his carefully constructed mask cracking at the edges.

And it was all your fault.

You blinked up at him, your wide, curious gaze unraveling him completely. Even in your frailty—IV drips, hospital gown, the telltale exhaustion clinging to your frame—you still managed to look like the single most perfect thing he had ever seen.

Then, it happened.

A smile.

A soft, hesitant little thing, warm enough to make his knees feel weak.

And then - the monitor.

The steady beep, beep, beep of your heart rate suddenly spiked, an unmistakable, rapid rhythm filling the otherwise quiet room.

Satoru’s breath hitched.

Oh.

The realization crashed into him like a freight train.

Your heart was racing.

Because of him.

Oh, fuck.

His grip on the roses tightened, fingers pressing into the delicate stems, the thorns pricking at his skin, he barely noticed. His own heartbeat had gone completely wild, hammering so loudly against his ribs that he was sure the entire hospital could hear it.

Heat rushed to his face, a creeping blush crawling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, his entire body betraying him. He could feel it, the warmth spreading under his skin, the dizzying, giddy sensation that made him want to scream into the nearest pillow.

You were flustered over him.

Him.

Gojo Satoru.

A helpless, breathless giggle bubbled up in his throat before he could stop it, and he barely managed to cover it with a light cough, turning his head slightly as if that would somehow hide the absolute mess he was becoming.

He had to pull it together.

His entire existence led up to this moment, and he would not be the reason he messed it up.

Clearing his throat, schooled his expression into something softer, gentler, the perfect image of a man who had no idea what was happening.

"Ah," he started, voice almost too smooth, though there was an undeniable waver at the edges. He made a show of looking down at the roses, adjusting his grip as if suddenly realizing he was still holding them. "I… didn’t expect anyone to be here."

Your lips parted, the faintest hint of surprise flitting across your features. He wanted to frame the moment, keep it forever.

He forced himself to keep talking, keep lying, before his knees actually gave out, even if they did, he'd crawl to you, rest his head on your lap - He'd be your dog if you'd just ask.

“It seems the room has already been cleared a while ago,” he continued, his voice soft, almost apologetic. “I used to leave roses here for my mother.”

The words left his mouth too easily, even as his pulse refused to slow down. Satoru's fingers twitched, gripping the flowers just a little too tight because you were still looking at him like that.

Like you wanted him to stay.

And that damn monitor -

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Each sharp little sound sent heat straight to his face. He could feel it, the way his blush deepened, the way it spread down his neck, his body completely betraying him in real time.

You liked him.

You were crushing on him.

You were falling for him.

Satoru had to physically stop himself from grinning like a lunatic. He had to bite the inside of his cheek, had to tighten his grip on the bouquet, had to plant his feet firmly on the ground because he swore to god if he let go of his restraint for even a second, he would throw himself at you and never let go.

This was dangerous.

You were dangerous.

Because he had barely even spoken yet, and you were already his.

And oh, you had no idea what that meant for you.

His stomach did another awful, fluttery thing, his entire world tilting as he dared to meet your gaze again.

“Would it be alright… if I left these here?” he asked, voice lower, smoother, betraying absolutely none of the chaos screaming inside him.

You nodded, still watching him with soft, wide eyes, and Satoru had to bite back a whimper. His stomach twisted, something fluttering, tightening - something unbearable and all-consuming. He had barely spoken to you, and yet, here you were, already accepting him, already letting him into your space. It was almost too much. Almost devastating.

He placed the roses carefully on the side table, arranging them with precision, as if they were an offering, as if their placement mattered more than anything else in the world. His fingers lingered on the petals, smoothing them down, before he finally, reluctantly, stepped back.

Your gaze was still on him. Soft. Trusting. Beautiful.

Operation: True Love had been enacted.

And it didn’t stop there.

It had become routine. Every morning, without fail, he made sure you had your favorite coffee in your hands before the sun had fully risen. Even on the nights when sleep barely kissed his eyes, when exhaustion tugged at his limbs, when his body ached from handling the scum that threatened the delicate world he was building for you, he always stopped by that little café.

It was such a simple thing, really - just a cup of coffee. But for Satoru, it was a symbol of devotion. Every single action, no matter how small, was done with you in mind. He memorized your schedule, your favorite flavors, the way you liked it just a little sweeter when you were feeling under the weather. He took a sip of it each time before handing it to you, just to be certain that it was decaffeinated, that your already delicate heart wouldn’t be forced to work harder than it needed to.

He had memorized everything about your condition, studied every prescription bottle by your bedside, traced his fingers over the labels when you weren’t looking, committing them all to memory. He knew your dosages, your restrictions, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly when the medication began to wear off.

That was why, when the first drop of coffee hit his tongue that morning, he knew instantly that something was wrong.

The perfect order wasn’t right.

The bitterness was too strong, the warmth that settled in his stomach too telling. He pulled the cup away from his lips and stared at it, Satoru's mind running over the implications. The barista had switched it - either through incompetence or indifference, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

If he had been careless if he had handed it to you without checking if your poor little heart had struggled against the caffeine -

His hands began to shake, a slow, curling fury unfurling in his gut. The weight of what could have happened, of what he almost allowed to happen, pressed against his ribs, suffocating him. His fingers curled around the coffee cup, the lid creaking under the pressure as he slowly exhaled, trying to steady himself.

This wasn’t just a mistake.

This was a threat.

Satoru's grip on the cup remained eerily calm as he turned and walked back to the counter, each step measured, deliberate. His head tilted slightly, a soft, almost playful smile curving at his lips as he met the eyes of the barista who had handed him the drink. The poor fool didn’t even realize what they had done.

“Hey,” Satoru murmured, voice light, almost teasing, like he was about to share a secret. “Quick question.”

The barista looked up, confused, but obliging. “Uh, yeah?”

Satoru took another slow step forward, resting his arms against the counter as he leaned in slightly. Bright blue eyes studied the poor barista, carefully, searching for a flicker of remorse, of understanding, but all he saw was ignorance.

That wouldn’t do.

A wider smile traced his lips, tilting his head as if in thought. “Tell me,” he said, voice still honey-smooth, still light as air, as if he wasn’t seething beneath the surface. “Do you know what happens when a heart stops beating?”

There was a pause.

A hesitation.

The barista blinked, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. “Uh - ”

Satoru didn’t wait for an answer.

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the barista’s wrist before they even had a chance to flinch. He pulled them forward with terrifying ease, dragging them halfway over the counter, ignoring the startled gasps of the people around him. His grip tightened, just enough to feel the fragile bones beneath his fingers shift under the pressure, just enough to send a message.

He could hear the barista's pulse, feel the steady rhythm beneath their skin.

Pathetic excuse of a life.

“You see,” he murmured, his breath a ghost against their skin, “a little thing like caffeine doesn’t seem like much, does it? Just a tiny mistake.”

The barista let out a whimper, their free hand scrambling against the countertop, desperate to pull away.

Satoru grinned.

“But when the person drinking it has a heart that’s already struggling?” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Well… then it’s a problem.”

He pressed down, just a little.

Just enough for something to pop.

The barista screamed.

Satoru sighed, shaking his head. “You almost killed someone very, very special to me,” he mused, watching the way their face twisted in agony. “And that makes me so sad.”

His fingers flexed.

The wrist in his hand gave way with a sickening crack.

The barista’s shriek pierced the air, loud and raw, but the café remained still.

No one moved.

No one ever did.

Satoru leaned in, crystalline eyes manic, lips just inches away from their ear, and whispered, soft as silk, “Do you know what that means?”

Their sobs were answer enough.

The next morning, Satoru entered your hospital room as if nothing had happened. The coffee was warm in his hands, a perfect balance of sweetness and warmth, exactly the way you liked it. You were just beginning to stir, your soft hands rubbing at your sleepy eyes, body curled up under the thick blankets.

You looked so sweet, so untouched by the world, that for a moment, he felt like he was burning alive. The moment your eyes landed on him, you smiled, slow and shy, and Satoru swore he felt his heart explode.

“Good morning, dumpling,” he greeted, sick with love, drowning in it, choking on it. You blinked up at him, looking so grateful, so happy, as you took the coffee from his hands.

He watched as you took a sip, watched as you sighed contentedly, watched as your heart monitor picked up just a little.

Oh.

Oh, that was dangerous.

The world around him faded, the memory of bloodied hands, broken screams, the useless little stumps where the barista’s fingers used to be all vanishing in the wake of your soft, wide eyes.

Nothing else mattered.

Not when you were safe.

Not when he was the one keeping you that way.

You still didn’t know.

But soon, you would.

He was waiting for the perfect moment - something grand, something special. Something that would tie you to him forever.

He loved watching over you.

He loved the way your eyelids would flutter, lashes casting delicate shadows against your cheeks as the medication coaxed you into sleep. He loved the way you’d sigh - soft, breathy little noises, so unaware, so vulnerable, your fingers curling instinctively against his sleeve as if you knew you belonged there.

And maybe you did.

Because this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Pressed into him, into his warmth, trusting and unguarded. His perfect little angel, unknowingly tucking yourself into the arms of the only man in the world who could love you properly.

You didn’t know what he had done to make sure you were safe.

Didn’t know how many hands he had taken, how many screams he had silenced, how many unworthy bastards had been erased for so much as looking at you too long.

Didn’t know how many times he had sat here, in this exact position, staring at the fragile line of your throat, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, watching the way your lips parted slightly as you exhaled.

Didn’t know how much it hurt to love you like this.

Because it did hurt.

It ached.

It burned, it devoured, it twisted inside him like something feral, something unsatisfied.

You were so small in his arms. So delicate.

And yet, his love for you was so enormous, so all-consuming, that sometimes he felt like he would crush you under the weight of it.

Every time your fingers twitched against him, every time your body relaxed, every time you made those tiny, sleepy noises, something inside him curled tight, so tight, too tight.

It was adoration.

It was devotion.

It was worship.

And yet, beneath that softness, beneath the aching love, there was something else.

Something darker.

Something needy.

Something filthy.

Because sometimes, when your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, when your lips parted just slightly when your warm, sleepy body curled into his, something unbearable coiled in his stomach, something starved and desperate, something that made him grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

The heat would pool low in his abdomen, coiling hot, tight, a restless hunger, a pressure that made his breath come faster, shallower.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that you were so sweet, so trusting, so untouchable - and yet, your body fit against his so perfectly.

It wasn’t fair that you were right here, so warm, so soft, so completely his—but he couldn’t touch.

Couldn’t have.

Not yet.

Not the way he wanted to.

Not the way he needed to.

And God—God, what an awful man he was.

What a disgusting, depraved, vile creature he had become.

He shouldn't be thinking about you like this.

You were pure, delicate, untouched.

You needed protection.

You needed his care.

And yet, his traitorous body was already reacting, already stiffening, already pressing painfully against the fabric of his slacks, already begging for relief.

The feel was humiliating, sickening.

And yet, no matter how many times he told himself to stop - Satoru couldn’t.

Couldn’t because you were so fucking beautiful. Because you were so fucking his. Because even long after he had gently laid you back against your pillows, even after he had stroked the soft strands of your hair away from your face, even after he had kissed your forehead so gently, so reverently, he still felt that sickening vile feeling, the pressure of his hardened cock against his slacks. That unbearable heat, that sickening desire, the overwhelming need to relieve the pressure before it drove him insane.

So he would excuse himself.

With the calmest smile, with the gentlest voice, he would whisper, "Sleep well, sugar."

Then Satoru would slip out of the room and head straight to the hospital restroom.

Lock the door.

Pull out his phone.

And scroll through the hundreds of photos he had taken of you.

Some were from your walks in the park, when you were strong enough to leave the hospital, your face turned toward the sunlight, your soft laughter trapped in still frames, preserved just for him.

Others were taken without your knowledge, stolen moments when you were distracted when your lips were pursed in thought, when your fingers played with the frayed edge of your hospital bracelet, when you gazed out the window with that distant, dreamy look.

And God, his angel, his girl, his everything -

With shaking hands, he would unbuckle his belt, slide his hand into his pants, stroking himself to the images of you, barely able to breathe, biting his own lip to silence the pathetic little noises threatening to escape.

It felt so wrong.

So dirty.

So perfect.

And when he was finished, hot and sticky, Satoru would take a moment to look at your photo, his release streaked across your delicate face, your soft smile, your innocent little eyes. Then, with trembling fingers, he would draw tiny hearts in the filth, circling your cheeks, tracing the outline of your lips.

Soon he will be able to be a bit more selfish, to feel those pretty lips of yours wrapped around his cock, be able to coo at you to take more into your mouth, to feel the swirl of your tongue around his hardened length.

Oh, Satoru couldn't help but feel his heart pound against his chest at the idea of your sweet warm cunt wrapped around him, he'd be so gentle. Take his sweet time, he knew he had to be gentle, you were a sick little thing. Should he cockwarm you first? Get you used to him? Get you used to feeling so full, to the stretch, to the feeling of having him deep inside you.

Fuck looks like he has to give it another go, you little minx. Raiding his thoughts as always - a slight giggle escaped his throat before he began to stroke himself once again.

Satoru had made sure you both were exclusive, ensured your father understood that no other man would come near you. Because when he finally was able to confess his undying love, when he finally gave you everything, the action would be in a way that you would never forget.

A grand gesture.

A symbol of his devotion.

And as Valentine’s Day approached, everything was falling into place.

Because love wasn’t just words. The notion wasn’t fleeting, wasn’t something to be given halfheartedly. Love, real love, demanded sacrifice. And he - he was willing to give you everything. Even if it meant murdering an innocent individual, claiming the poor saint had wronged the clan. Because he had found the perfect match for your heart transplant, a saint of a person, someone who had never smoked, never drank, never told a single lie. Someone pure, untouched by vice, someone worthy of becoming a part of you. Someone perfect, just for you, so you both could live your lives together.

Because a love like this? It was eternal.

And you would love him.

And you would be his, forever.

No one would take you away from him.

Not even death.

Not even fate.

Satoru had never known love like this how it had seeped into his veins like poison, sweet and consuming, twisting around his heart until he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. You had become his everything, the reason for his existence, the reason he woke up each morning, the reason he killed, the reason he breathed.

And now—now, you were here.

Laid out on the pristine white sheets of the underground medical table he had so carefully prepared, your delicate wrists bound with silk restraints, not to hurt you, but to keep you from thrashing, from making mistakes, from delaying the inevitable.

Because you were scared.

And that was killing him.

His sweet girl, his delicate little princess, his angel, was crying because of him.

Satoru's breath hitched, vision blurring with tears, and before he could stop himself, a choked sob tore from his throat. His fingers trembled as he cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing frantically over your damp skin, trying to wipe away the pain.

"No, no, no, my love - please, please don’t cry." His voice cracked, wavering between soft pleas and manic devotion, his lips quivering as he leaned down, pressing frantic kisses against your damp cheeks. He licked away your tears, swallowed your little whimpers, inhaled your soft, hiccuped breaths as if he could consume your fear and turn it into love.

His fingers stroked your hair, tracing the curve of your face, his touch tender, adoring, desperate.

“I can’t take this, sunshine. You’re breaking my heart.”

A shaky giggle slipped through his sobs, his fingers still trailing down the curve of your jaw, tapping gently against your chin like he was teasing you like this was just another one of his games.

His hands slid behind him, reaching for the small, heart-shaped box he had placed so carefully beside your bed. Satoru's breath hitched, fingers trembling not with nerves, but with sheer, dizzying excitement as he held it between you both. His tear-streaked face lit up, his lips parting into an eager, breathless grin despite the shattered, desperate look in his eyes.

This was it.

The ultimate proof of his love.

His grand gesture.

His devotion, laid bare before you.

The soft velvet of the box rubbed against your trembling fingertips as he guided it into your hands. Your breath was shallow, chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven. You didn’t want to open it.

You didn’t want to see what was inside.

But Satoru - was watching you so closely, his radiant, unearthly blue eyes brimming with an intensity that demanded you obey. So, with numb fingers, you lifted the lid.

Your stomach lurched.

The room spun. The sharp, metallic scent of blood curled into your nostrils, thick and suffocating, coating the back of your throat, making your body convulse in disgust.

A heart.

A real, human heart. The flesh was still fresh, still glistening, nestled inside the plush velvet like a grotesque, bloody jewel. Thin, severed arteries dangled from the muscle, the tissue dark, rich, and far too real.

Your breath hitched in a choked, wet gasp.

The air rushed out of your lungs, your vision narrowing as cold, paralyzing horror wrapped around you. Your fingers trembled violently, nearly dropping the box, your hands refusing to function, refusing to believe what they were holding.

No.

No, no, no -

You could feel your heartbeat slamming against your ribs, erratic, uneven, weak. You could feel the sting of tears welling up, blurring your vision, pooling in your lashes as you tried—desperately tried—to make sense of the unthinkable.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to wrench yourself away, shove the box back into his hands, throw it, crush it, anything—

But you couldn’t move.

Your body refused.

Terror had turned your limbs to dead weight, keeping you frozen as if one wrong move might make this nightmare even worse.

Satoru tilted his head, watching you. That flicker in your eyes.

Horror.

Fear.

Rejection.

His grin faltered. Just a little. Just enough.

That look shattered something inside him. Satoru's breath caught, his smile wavering at the edges as his fingers twitched, his entire body stilling. For the first time in his entire, untouchable life, Gojo Satoru felt small. Like a child who had spent days, weeks, months crafting the perfect gift, only for it to be thrown away before his eyes.

A slow, breathy laugh fell from his lips - unsteady, cracked at the edges, but still so devoted.

“Aww, baby,” he whispered, tilting his head, his fingers tracing the side of your wrist, thumb dragging over your rapid, panicked pulse.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

His voice was soft, teasing - but his grip on you was tight. The air grew heavier and thicker, the scent of blood still hanging between you like perfume.

You wanted to move.

You wanted to run.

But his fingers curled tighter around your wrist, and those crystal-clear, feverishly bright blue eyes locked onto yours, swimming with something too deep, too raw, too unhinged for you to break away.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

His voice was gentle, cooing, like he was humoring you, like you were simply being shy, overwhelmed, unsure of how to accept such an important gift. His free hand reached out, brushing your trembling hair away from your face, tucking a stray strand behind your ear.

“I mean, I did all this for you,” he murmured, voice feigning innocence, his lips curving into something softer, something that might have been mistaken for genuine hurt if it weren’t for the twisted madness shimmering beneath it.

His fingers slid down, grazing your cheek before resting against your collarbone, pressing - just slightly. Feeling the erratic flutter of your weak little heart, the heart he was so desperate to protect.

The heart that could have failed you at any moment.

The heart that was soon to be replaced.

"I went through so much trouble," he continued, his voice quieter, sadder, fraying at the edges. "Just to make sure you’d be okay, sped up the process even, to make sure we can be together."

A tremor ran through his shoulders, his lips parting like he was about to say something more, but instead, he only let out a soft, shuddering exhale. His princess was rejecting his love.

But he had to be strong.

He had to be brave.

For you.

And so, he forced himself to smile, to press another kiss to your forehead, to whisper sweet nothings into your skin, even as his heart shattered.

"I promise, my love, it won’t hurt. You won’t feel a thing."

Satoru's soft lips hovered over your ear, his voice a trembling whisper, thick with the kind of love that could ruin a man.

"And when you wake up, you’ll be all better." His fingers trailed over the silk restraints, his touch lingering against your pulse, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath your skin.

Everything was going to be okay.

You were just scared.

You loved him too.

Major heart surgery is a scary thing. You’re just scared.

And if the doctor made a mistake - if you so much as whimpered in pain, if there was a single second where you suffered, where the operation was anything less than perfect -

Well.

There was a reason he had a backup doctor waiting in the next room.

A little extra insurance.

Because nothing could go wrong.

Everything had to be perfect for you. His fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face toward him, pressing a lingering, feverish kiss to your trembling lips - a kiss full of devotion, of desperation, of a love so strong it had become a sickness.

His heart raced, his breath shaky, uneven, manic.

And then, in a voice so soft, so full of adoring madness, he whispered against your lips -

"Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart."

As the medication in the IV lulled your eyes to sleep, all you could feel were soft kisses - featherlight, desperate, pressed against your cheeks, your forehead, the corner of your lips.

A lover’s touch.

A farewell.

#Valentine's day #yandere jujutsu kaisen #Yandere JJk #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru x reader #male yandere #yandere satoru #yandere satoru x reader

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callmearcturus · 7 months ago

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The vinyl comes with... this. This is not the lyrics to the songs. I'm gonna transcribe it, because I think the first time you listen should be with this.

You are about to listen to an album by the Glass Animals. You don't always listen to albums from beginning to end, but maybe you will this time. It was written for you. (Linear Notes by Gabrielle Zevin)

SHOW PONY

You are a child. Before you were a child, your parents were children. Most origin stories begin with love, and yours is no different. Once upon a time, two people fell in love, and then it ended. It's the first love story you were every told, and it teaches you the one certainty in life is that all things end. From this point forward, you are not a romantic. They call you the cynic, and to protect yourself, you take on many forms.

WHATTHEHELLISHAPPENING

You are kidnapped. You are in the trunk of a moving car, fetal position, darkness, screech of the tires against the road, the scent of gasoline. You don't know how you got there, but it isn't the worst place you have ever found yourself, and in a way, it feels inevitable. You know you could die, so you find yourself thinking about all the people you have ever loved. The trunk is like a womb. You could live here forever but eventually you'd get lonely. Your relentless need for company is your hamarita.

CREATURES IN HEAVEN

You are a psychic. You ask your lover if they want to know the hour and the day that the two of your will part. They laugh at you, and they say they don't believe in psychics. You suspect that their failure to believe in your gift might be the problem that leads to the demise of your relationship. But who cares? This relationship ends in three months, and you may as well enjoy it. Evanescence can sometimes be a profound pleasure.

WONDERFUL NOTHING

You are a prizefighter who is in love with a boxer. You say, "It's a bad idea." (JAB, JAB, CROSS.) And the boxer says, "It's only a bad idea if it gets in the way of our work." (SLIP.) And you say, "Promise me you'll never pull any punches." (CROSS. CROSS. HOOK.) The boxer swears they won't. (SLIP. JAB.) But when you fight, the boxer always pulls their punches, and you never do. You're pretty sure this makes you a bad person. You're a prizefighter, and you do not love this boxer or anyone enough to pull punches. (JAB. CROSS. HOOK.) Just before throwing the knockout punch, you whisper, "I love you so fucking much."

A TEAR IN SPACE

You are a sock. You are an earplug. You are a miniature glass horse. You are easy to misplace. You are you, so you think you matter. You are nothing. No one even notices when you left the party.

I CAN'T MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE AGAIN

You are an astrophysicist. You believe you can use sound waves to control time and space. A song is a time machine, you tell your colleagues. If you sing the right song, you could transport the lover to a particular time and place. You could reverse time, and if you could reverse time, you could make them love you again. Your belief in science occasionally makes you pathetic.

HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE THE BOMB

You are a damsel, and you are in love with a monster. You're not sure how it happened. You'd been warned about such creatures by the fairy tales of your youth. But in bedtime stories, the monster always presented as monster. The beast was hirsute, the vampire had fangs, the wolf in your grandmother's clothing was clearly not your grandmother. But your monster is clean cut and has good teeth. They knock at the door. You invite them in, and just like that, you are fucking a monster. You should be upset about it, but you aren't. The thing they don't tell you about monsters is that they are sexy as hell.

WHITE ROSES

You are Proteus. You are a god and you can change forms when the situation calls for it. This is hand for work, but difficult when it comes to relationships. You have occasionally been guilty of taking a form that you knew would make you lovable to some unsuspecting mortal. But it always ends the same way. A terrible row at an inconvenient time-- say, just before you're about to leave for the airport-- and then, you're forced to reveal yourself. You don't always mean to change forms, but it's second nation for you to shift a bit here and there-- pretend you like a certain band, express an enthusiasm for sport. Are you shapeshifting, or are you concealing yourself, and is there a difference in the end? Still, you love making people fall in love with you. Every time you do it, you promise you'll never do it again. And they you do it again.

ON THE RUN

You are an escape artist. You are handcuffed, straitjacketed, loaded into a zipped and padlocked duffle bag, wrapped in chains, tossed into the bottom of the ocean. It is billed as "The Greatest Escape of the Greatest Escape Artist, and the Culmination of a Career of Death-Defying Acts!"

The spectators on the pier anticipate your deliverance. They are sure you'll surface because you always surface. They aren't fearful; they are waiting to be dazzled. What they cannot know is how bored you are of dazzling.

You exit the bag, careful to take the props of your confinement so there will be no remains. You swim to another, distant pier. You don't see the people on the pier cry. You don't read your obituary. It's no longer your concern.

A week later, you are homesick, and you concede that your plan has failed. You miss the people on the pier and your cat and your bed and your favorite restaurant and your wristwatch. You don't remember what problems your faked death was going to solve so you can't say if it solved them.

The greatest power in the universe is nostalgia, and it that's true, maybe the people on the pier will forgive you. maybe you could come back from the dead. Now wouldn't that be the greatest escape ever?

LOST IN THE OCEAN

Who are you, anyway?

Why are so many songs addressed to you?

It's simple, you think. The songs are for you because I love you so fucking much, and when you say you, you mean all the yours: the parents and the child, the damsel and the monster, the escape artist and the crowd on the pier, the sock and the one who forgets the sock, the prizefighter and the boxer, and the world that contains all these people. You are all the lovers you failed, and all the ones who failed you. You are the lovers you haven't yet encountered-- there will be many because this world is filled with people to love. You are the singer, and you are the song. And you conclude that the only way to resist the ephemerality of all things is by singing love songs to you, whoever you are, wherever you are in the universe.

#glass animals #ilysfm #reposting as its own thing so it can go in the main tag #bc its important

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ultimatecharbeefan · 2 months ago

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How the Orion Pax arc would’ve went if Elita One was in TFP

Knockout: not to offend you or anything, my lord but why didn’t you take Prime when you had the chance? He had no memories except of which when you two were friends. It would’ve been a smart move.

Megatron: because if Elita learned I kidnapped her conjunx she would’ve burned down this entire ship and have our helms on spikes.

#transformers #maccadam #oplita #elita 1 x optimus prime #elita one x optimus prime #optimus prime x elita 1 #optimus prime x elita one #optimus prime #orion pax #elita one #elita 1 #transformers prime #tfp starscream #tfp megatron #tfp #incorrect quotes

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revelboo · 4 days ago

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Can we ask for a 'my favorite accident' update? I'm dieing to know what brakedown does and how knockout would react seeing the reader not at home

Breakdown isn’t having fun

My Favorite Accident Pt 11

Knockout x Reader x Breakdown

• Half tempted to just let you run off into the desert and die, he snarls and shifts on his shocks. It’s not like Knockout would ever know it’s his fault. Knowing the medic cares about your horrible, squishy self for some reason is what guilts him into transforming and chasing after you. And you screech like you’re being bloodily murdered the klik you realize he’s chasing you. Somehow much faster than he’d anticipated, little legs fueled by terror. “Stop running!” He snarls.

• Heart racing, you’re sprinting full out, honestly surprised you’re faster than he is. Very aware that if it had occurred to the big moron to stay in vehicle mode, he could have easily run you down. And you don’t have a plan except not getting murdered and buried out here, your lungs already burning and a stitch tearing into your side to make it very clear you should have worked out more. Because you’re faster, but you doubt your stamina is going to outlast the big, killing machine. Who has apparently decided you’re a little home wrecker.

• Pulling into the lot for the hovel you call home, Knockout waits. Growing more and more irritated when you don’t come out. Deviating from your routine. Or just ignoring him. Growling softly, his avatar flares into existence, getting out and crossing to your door to knock. Silence. Your ugly car is here, so you must be. Banging harder on the door, annoyance flips into worry when he doesn’t hear any sounds through the thin door. Humans are stupidly fragile creatures. Maybe you’re hurt in there? Who’s going to race with him if you’ve done something inconsiderate like die on him?

• Stiffening as the door next to yours opens and a grizzled, ancient human man with a smoking brown thing clenched between his yellowed teeth squints at him. ‘Ain’t home,’ the man grunts and Knockout leans to snag the door knob before the human can close it. “And did you see where they went?” He asks, smiling angrily. Who you left with. Pulling at the door insistently before realizing he’s not winning, the old man scowls. ‘Some big guy dragged ‘em off to their vehicle.’ Real body shifting on his shocks, his avatar bares its teeth at the man. “And did you try to stop this?” Doubts it given the way the man cringes away. Had probably just watched you get kidnapped, kicking and screaming. Oh, he’s going to have fun dismembering whatever fool took you. You’re his.

• How are you so fast for being so tiny? Everytime he almost has you, you throw yourself down, scrambling on all fours like an animal. He’s almost stepped on you twice by accident when you’ve tried to run between his legs. You’re wearing down though, face flushed and breathing raggedly. “Games over, human,” he growls, crouched and servos splayed. He’d backed you to the edge of a drainage canal, there’s nowhere for you to go. Something you seem fully aware of, trembling with exhaustion to almost make him feel guilty. And you tense, looking over your shoulder at the steep concrete incline. You wouldn’t. Calculation in your expression, you suck in a deep breath. “Don’t you dare,” he snarls, swearing when you drop and roll over the edge. For Primus’s sake, what is wrong with you?

#transformers x reader #knockout x reader #tfp knockout #tfp breakdown #breakdown x reader

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muletia · 3 months ago

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*some point after Megaton kidnapping them becomes a reoccurring thing*

(Y/n) leaving work, seeing Knockout's car form sitting in front of the building and sighing.

(Y/n): Hi, Knockout.

Knockout: Hello.

(Y/n): *looking around* Any Autobots around?

Knockout: Nope.

(Y/n): *sighs* Alright, let's go.

Just "voluntarily" getting kidnapped when no Autobots are around b/c she knows she can't really do anything herself.

pleaseeeee, knockout would hate this so much 😭😭 why can’t megatron just send some random vehicon to take you back to that circus (nemesis)??? why is some fleshy so important to his boss? and why, by your own free will, are you letting yourself be kidnapped??? knockout feels like all the decepticons, and especially megatron, have lost their minds, and gone crazy. including you.

#be silly #transformers x reader #obsessed!megatron

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1moon-lavender · 5 months ago

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wheeljack: *looks at y/n silly*

y/n: *drinking coffee* don't you dare speak to me wheeljack.

wheel jack: frag how did ya know...

y/n: *throws a book at him*

wheel jack: OW!

knockout: your really calm for a human who has just been kidnapped...

y/n: I've gotten over it so yea....by the way where are we headed?

knockout: France I think

y/n: hmm nice if you could just drop me off at the closest book store that would be great

y/n: I could just kiss you

ratchet: I'm sorry what?

y/n: what?

y/n: I want to see my son.

bulkhead: here he is *picks up bee*

bee:......beep....*ok*

y/n: I want to light something on fire...

Miko: same...

ratchet: *hiding his tools*

rachet: finally the kids are gone now I can work in peace

y/n: *yelling in the distance* RACHET IM LOST

rachet: frag

#tfp #tfp miko #tfp knockout #tfp bumblebee #tfp bulkhead #tfp ratchet #tfp optimus prime #y/n #tfp x reader #1moon-lavender #tfp starscream #transformers

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robobrainrot · 10 months ago

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What Fortune Favors by @fascinationex doodle

If you're cool with graphic violence, please read this fic. It's really fun and well written~ The action scenes read like an anime.

MECH is up to trouble again and kidnaps Breakdown and Bulkhead. Knockout and Miko team up to save them. Miko get the chance to be in the heat of battle like she's always wanted, but she quickly learns it's not as fun as it looks in movies.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #tfp #knockout #miko nakadai #fic reccomendations #fic fanart #i guess #this was a scribble while I am in a meeting #tw blood #tw graphic violence in the fic #like #anime levels of blood spurts #nobody dies so its fine

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optimusprime12 · 3 months ago

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Poly Transformers x Human! Reader x Decepticons angst

youtube

"Ratchet! Please tell them I didn't-" "Shut up." You never seen how cold they could be. All of them. All because this new girl came along... She spread lies.

'I see you as you see yourself through all the books you read'

You looked at them all, with a smirk (Rival Name) next to them. Her smile made you want to attack her, but she sat in Bee's palm. "I-I..." You stopped talking. Everyone stared daggers at you.

'Your Vampire Empire'

"You may now leave." Optimus says, staring at you coldly. "Fine. Jackie-" You felt tears come out of your as Wheeljack turned around.

'I see there, rejecting all your earthly power.'

'Protecting and dissecting 'til you've emptied every hour'

"Just go. You've done enough." Ratchet said, it's like you all where not dating. The bridge opened up, and you where still in shock. "R-ra-" "Don't say my name." Ratchet was cold. You wanted to pull off your hair. "Fine. But don't expect me to come back!" You ripped the promise ring from your hand that they have you, and stormed out to your home.

'I wanted to see you naked, I wanted to hear you scream, I wanted to kiss your skin and your everything. '

The next month, it was so bad. You had no friends, besides Miko, who was the only one to believe you.

'I wanted to be the one you could understand'

You wanted to badly to hurt yourself. You wanted to.

But you kept moving. Getting rid of everything they gave you was the first step.

That's when you finally met the Decepticons.

'In her Vampire empire I am Falling ya'

'Falling ya'

After a few months of getting to know them, you can't help but to feel loved. A kind of love you never had before.

But you couldn't tell Miko.

But she found out and told the Autobots they kidnapped you.

'Well, I walked into your dagger for the last time'

Megatron had you up on his shoulder, as his new Queen. Starscream was also very pleaseed.

'Where you can't seem to hold, me can't seem to let me go'

'So I can't find surrender can't keep control'

Optimus, and the others watched as you can down on the battled field, on Megatron's shoulder. "I Sw- (Y/n)! What are you doing!?" Wheeljack asks, lowering his arm. The fighting stopped. "Oh, you mean my queen?" You looked so high and mighty un on his shoulder. Just like how you use to do to them.

'You say you want to be alone and you want children'

'You wanna be with me, you wanna be with HIM'

Ratchet tried to run to you, but was stopped by you kissing Megatron's helm. "Trader!" (Rival Name) called from the sidelines. "Yes, but I'm no trader since I'm not the one who made me get kicked out." Your words hurt Bulkhead and the others dearly.

'I am empty until she kills'

'In her Vampire empire'

"We had no choice-" Megatron glared at Ratchet to shut him up.

'Falling ya'

"You did. And you choice to run MY Queen from her once home." Optimus felt jealous. They all did. "Ya! And for once we're the good guys." Knockout said. Optimus looked to (Rival Name). "Care to explain?" Ratchet asked, glaring at (Rival Name).

"Look... I may have lied about (Y/n) being really mean to me, but you guys wouldn't hurt me right...?" They felt betrayed by (Rival name). "T-that means..." Bee looked to you, and with big eyes full of tears, tried to ran to you, but Shockwave stopped him. "It is illogical of you to do that. It's logical that (Y/n) is ours now." Shockwave said coldly. Bee taken out his gun, but was stopped by Optimus. "We- Sweetspark-" "Do not call them your 'sweetspark'." Megatron growled. Wheeljack looked to you, pleading eyes that you would come with them, be happy again. Bee tried to get past Shockwave, but it failed.

Megatron turned to the spaceship, and started to walk away. Optimus held his hand out, but it was no use, you slipped right past his fingers.

#transformers x reader #transformers angst #optimus prime x reader #smokescreen x reader #wheeljack x reader #shockwave x reader #megatron x reader #bumblebee x reader #tfp bulkhead x reader #starscream x reader #Soundwave x reader #Youtube

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knockouts-medibay · 5 months ago

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Youll love it here, don't worry, darling!

THE DJD IS BACK.

WHAT.

#Knockout after kidnapping a literal psychopathic murderer #You're my friend now

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 months ago

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Okay so i wanna see some more headcanons of the farmer ready to kick someone's ass so how about this:

Someone who is jealous of the farmer or like someone on like the enemy side, decided to kidnap their spouse to try and either ransom them or lure the farmer out, thinking it will be an easy win.

Then suddenly the next moment, the farmer already arrived before they could send a message to them (either the farmer got help from Mr.Qi or they track them down themselves), absolutely filled with rage and is now seconds away from beating the kidnapper.

How would the SDV/SVE bachelors and bachelorettes react to that?

I probably got the fastest rush of inspiration because holy cow, this is such a funny and cool scenario. Thank you so much, dear anon, for your ask! Enjoy! 💕

_____________________________

The bachelors/ettes reaction to their kidnapping for revenge/ransom, where their spouse Farmer, furious, comes to rescue them

SDV bachelors/ettes:

"You're demanding... 500 gold bars for me? I'm worth twice that, you know, even more! That's just insulting..." The kidnappers had already regretted their scheme before Farmer arrived to rescue Elliott, because the writer's outrage is already giving them a headache. Even with a gag in his mouth he's still talking! And just when they think the day can't get any worse, Farmer arrived quickly and kicked their asses. "Can you believe it, they only asked for 500 bars for me! I'm worth more than that, right dear?" Elliott was indignant to the core. Farmer grinned as they freed Elliott from the ropes, confirming that he was worth much more than that.

Sebastian did not think that in such a situation he would feel so... annoyed. Sure, being stolen by strangers had instilled fear at first, but when the leader of the gang started telling a self-pity story about how "I deserved everything, not Farmer, now I've stolen their lover and they're gonna pay!", Sebby thought the leader was some kind of cartoon villain. How absurd. Farmer who came in a couple of hours later also looks annoyed when the leader started telling their "villain arc". But before they can start, they get a fist in the face from Farmer, going straight to the realm of dreams. This was where Sebastian chuckled, at least something here was funny.

Shane's kidnapper was confident and said with a snide smile that either Farmer paid 500,000 gold for Shane or Farmer would "get their spouse in pieces". "800,000 gold and I'll ask Farmer not to kill you specifically." The kidnapper was a little taken aback by those words and the fact that the chicken man was completely calm. It was as if he didn't care. When the leader heard the noise and shouts of his minions, whose voices were quickly silenced, he turned to Shane in a panic and pleaded: " I only have 100,000 gold! Please, mercy!" "Alright, deal." Enough for the coop upgrade that Shane and his spouse have wanted for a long time.

"Heyyy, chill bro. Let's just talk, ok?" Unfortunately, Sam's smooth speech was met with only a rude "shut up, worthless musician!" in his direction. "I'm actually pretty good on guitar... So rude.." he muttered. When Farmer, angry as an ox, entered the room where their husband and the leader of the kidnapping "party" were, the kidnapper tried to soften the situation for themself. "They called me a worthless musician." The kidnapper turned around in horror at a smirking Sam. "And they also hit me." It wasn't true, but the kidnapper was already pale as ghost when Farmer turned red with rage after Sam's last words.

"Let me go now, or I'll kick your asses!" Though the ropes around Alex were tight, the athlete was unwilling to give up without a fight and continued to break free. "Shut up! You're going to pay for what your stupid Farmer-" "Don't you dare say that about my spouse!" The bravery was commendable, but the kidnapper was losing patience by now and wanted to send him into a knockout. But ended up knocking out themself as they didn't notice Farmer behind them. "What an asshole. I would have punched them!" Farmer reassured their really angry husband, as if it was Alex who was saving Farmer from bandits, not the other way around.

"Oh, Yoba..." Harvey would never have thought he would be kidnapped by anyone, but here he is - tied to a pole, surrounded by the six thugs. "Now we have to send a letter to that Farmer, and wait for the ransom, hehe. Easy money!" Harvey had been here for half an hour and was starting to get a little worried, but then he saw something in the distance that helped him gain confidence. "I hope, my friends, you stole my first aid kit too." "Need a sedative, doctor?" The leader didn't even have time to laugh at their own joke before they felt a chill run down their spine and turned around to see Farmer, sword in hand and an angry look in their eyes. "Not for me. For you."

Neither the gag nor the ropes helped - Abigail, irritated and angry, kicked, bit, punched and screamed as hard as she could, not giving her captors a moment's peace. Even with her sword taken away, the fighting girl put on quite a show, which made the bandits decide that the idea of ransoming Farmer wasn't such a great idea anymore. They were just thinking of letting Abby go free when Farmer came in, just as angry as their purple-haired wife. Abigail took back her sword and stood beside her spouse. The kidnappers made a note that they (if they survive) vow to themselves not to steal any more adventurers.

"So much negative energy around you... My friend, you can't live like that!" No matter how much the kidnapper tried to say that Emily wasn't their friend, but enemy's wife, the blue-haired girl insisted on helping her captor. Yes, she realises she's been kidnapped, but the lair she wasn't kept in was so dark and stuffy that of course this poor person is only thinking evil thoughts! Farmer who had made a huge hole in the wall with a furious punch had at least brought in some light. To the villain lying unconscious, Emily would leave a note with "get well soon!", diet tips and exercises for mind and body.

The criminals who had kidnapped Haley decided that if they were going to get any money for the already-not-so-easy job, they were going to spend half of it on hearing care. Because Haley was screaming so loudly that it looked like the kidnappers' eardrums had already burst. Plus the girl didn't spare her manicure and scratched the gangsters' hands, and someone's face. The leader was already tired, but Farmer literally breaking through the wall of their lair made it clear that it wasn't the worst yet. And Haley, freed from the ropes, ran to hug Farmer. Of course she wasn't afraid, for she knew her spouse would rescue her!

Penny sat as quietly as a mouse, afraid to anger the two thugs guarding her cage. She still can't understand how she was just walking from the farmhouse in Pelican Town to get groceries and a minute later she was kidnapped and ransomed from Farmer for 100,000 gold. Yoba, she's so scared, where is her spouse...? The answer to her question was not long in coming: Farmer kicked open the cell door, knocked out the guards, and took Penny in their arms as they both left the room. The girl was still scared and confused, which made Farmer want to kick the kidnappers' arse again. But their beloved wife came first, everything else - later.

To Leah's credit, before the gang of kidnappers could tie her hands, the artist managed to knock out two of them and throw a sculpture hammer at the head of the gang leader. Even being kidnapped, the girl did not lose her courage, giggling a little at the leader, who, already with a bump on their head, goes back and forth and promises that she and her spouse will pay for all the "humiliations they have suffered in the past". What those "humiliations" were Leah didn't have time to ask (and didn't really want to know) before Farmer broke into the room, knocked out the rest of the bandits and put another bump on the leader's head. All this to Leah's cheers. She wasn't scared at all.

Maru kept calm and thought of an escape plan. "Okay, no big deal. I memorised the path when they dragged me here. Now I need to break the ropes on my arms, sneak past the guards, turn left and-" Maru couldn't think of her plan any further as her spouse, furious at their wife's kidnapping, kicked the wall completely and started punching all the bandits left and right. "Oh, alright then." Considering she had only been kidnapped for less than half an hour, Maru didn't even have time to be frightened before she was already free, making her way around the kidnappers who were lying on the ground unconscious.

SVE bachelors/etter:

To be completely honest, Lance wasn't even that angry at his captors so much as he was slightly ashamed that he, the second in command of The First Slash Clan, had allowed himself to be captured by the amateurs, even if they had used magic for this. He made a note to himself to resume certain training. The pink-haired man already wanted to burn his ropes with magical fire, but his beloved spouse Farmer, agitated and angry as a swarm of wasps, kicked all the bandits' asses with sword and magic. Lance broke his ropes and joined the fight as well, though at first, the adventurer wanted not to rush his release, but to watch Farmer in battle with admiration and love.

"Again?" No need for Magnus' kidnapper to be so surprised - he is already old wizard, so he's seen a lot of things in his life and has been kidnapped before. Once even by mages from Gotoro, but that's a story for later. And while the kidnapper was able to take the wizard by surprise and strip him of his magic, it wouldn't work that way with his dear spouse. To which the villain shouted "I'll take away the Farmer's magic too!" Maybe, but Farmer would just start beating them with their bare hands. Which is exactly what happened half an hour ago. The enraged Farmer didn't leave a wet spot on the poor fella, so Magnus even cast a healing spell.

"Scared, white collar? Will you call your mommy for help? Or your spouse? Ha!" In any other situation, Victor would really be shaking with fear and not understanding whether the kidnappers would really hurt him if Farmer didn't pay for his ransom. But his spouse was Farmer, a man who just yesterday had slaughtered a hundred serpents at Skull Cavern as if it were a routine outing. "I'm afraid you're the one who's going to need help." And immediately after those words, Farmer burst into the room, angry and covered in blood (not their own). The kidnappers were pale, and Victor hurriedly closed his eyes, because he'd never seen Farmer so angry before. Which meant the bandits would get hurt. A lot.

"This is outrageous! How dare you take me against my will and steal my jewellery! Dragging me here, in this damp and filthy place where rats run around! Disgusting!" If the kidnappers were expecting cries for help, tears and pleas for mercy from Olivia, they will be quickly disappointed. She's a combative woman, and even huge bullies can't intimidate the ex-Joja accountant. She's dealt with worse, believe her. Well, the thugs think they'll at least get their money's worth, Olivia's dressed rich. Yeah, right... they'll just get a hit from an angry Farmer who turned up as soon as they found out where the bastards had taken their wife.

"They will pay... For all my creatures of darkness that they destroyed in Badlands, for all their exploits that made me unable to take over the Valley. Farmer will pay. And you're going to help me do it! When they come for you, I'll- Hey, are you even listening to me?!" Please forgive Claire, but the poor girl was so tired (work + family) that she slept through both her kidnapping and the gang leader's speech. The cashier woke up already when she felt someone carrying her in the arms. Her spouse looked at Claire with a smile, saying that she should immediately take a vacation and rest. Lying on the ground criminals, unconscious? Um, that was... part of a dream, yes. Just a strange dream.

"I advise you to let go, because when the Farmer comes here, you'll be sorry." At Scarlett's attempts to reason with her captors, the gang only mocked the girl. "We're waiting for Farmer, dumbass, it's an ambush!" Scarlett just sighed tiredly and waited - she had no choice. The bandits had already set traps everywhere, but Farmer was not only good at fighting, but also smart, and made an ambush on the ambush. Then caught the kidnappers off guard and kicked everyone's ass. "Warned ya," Scarlett even felt a little sorry for the bandits - they wouldn't be walking normally for a while.

Not knowing what was happening, trembling at the predatory grins of the strangers, Sophia cried quietly, trying not to make too much noise so as not to anger her captors. The villains haven't had time to get the ransom yet, and already they're arguing over who gets more gold. Farmer broke through the wall, shocking everyone. The tears on their pink-haired wife's cheeks were enough for Farmer to see red, and all the kidnapper-losers were knocked out. Before Sophia could even realise what had happened, she was already, freed, clinging to he's spouse's neck as Farmer carried her in bridal style. "Just like a fairy tale.... 💖"

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