#so he can easily manipulate you so he could fuck himself on your dick

[emotionalmessss]

hope you’re well ♥️ may i request a headcanon where yan!chrollo’s partner escaped but when he confronts them (or however you write it-it’s up to you!) they are really remorseful like “i knew i shouldn’t have left” on their own volition? thank you! ♥️

A/N: ouu, I really like this idea. I can never say no to Yan!Chrollo lol. I’d be more than happy to answer, and I’ll try my best! Thank you for the request, enjoy! :) (this ended up much longer than I expected)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, stalking, implied kidnapping, kinda implied non-con, psychological abuse, hardcore manipulation. chrollo is a dick.

Chrollo is no saint, but he definitely has the patience of one–though only to a certain extent. With you, however, he seems to have all the fucking patience in the world. Because of Chrollo’s emotionally complex nature, I kind of feel like it’s difficult for him to form emotional attachments, especially with those outside the Troupe. Connections have never really been a priority for Chrollo, nor do they come easily to him. But, with you, it’s different. You’ve always stood out, and his relationship with you is something that he treasures deeply. In his own twisted way.

Ever since Chrollo first laid eyes on you, he’s been utterly fascinated–a reaction that probably confused him at first, considering his interests usually only involve the wellbeing of the Troupe, books, and stealing valuable objects and Nen abilities. Chrollo has utilized all his available resources to gather as much information about you as possible, spending countless hours studying every single aspect of your life. Say goodbye to your privacy because there’s no such thing when it comes to Chrollo. And sure, a few members of the Troupe probably found Chrollo’s behavior unusual, but they knew better than to question the boss.

Chrollo might be completely infatuated with you, but he’s not blind to how difficult the situation is for you–he is well aware of human nature, and even more familiar with you. In fact, he completely understands your struggles. But, does that mean he’s going to let you go? Fuck no. As far as captors go, Chrollo has been incredibly lenient with you, hoping that you’d eventually realize that there is no one else in the world that could cherish you the way he does. And when you escaped from him, you betrayed that sliver of trust he gave you.

Your escape was successful, congrats. Managing to slip past Chrollo’s defenses was a challenge in itself–and you should be proud–not everyone can outsmart the head of the Spider. But, that’s just the beginning, don’t celebrate just yet. Surely, you’ll have to deal with a fuck load of complications, like starting your life over from scratch, fending for yourself, constantly watching your back, and maybe, just maybe, going as far as adopting a completely new identity. Things couldn’t get any more complicated, could they? Oh, they can and they will. 

It wouldn’t be long before you started to doubt and question everything–your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, your choices, and most importantly, Chrollo. You might’ve thought you had the upper hand, but somehow, for some fucking reason, Chrollo always has the last laugh. Chrollo would never allow himself to show it, but he would definitely feel slightly irritated with the situation and your behavior. You actually had the audacity to run away from him? Have you forgotten who he is and what he's capable of? It’s not very often that someone would defy him, and part of him secretly applauds your pathetic–yet somewhat amusing–actions. Did you truly believe that he wouldn’t be able to find you again? 

I’d imagine that Chrollo probably saw your sudden absence as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Annoying? Yes. Unexpected? No. Would he have expected you to be remorseful after escaping? Not entirely. Fortunately for him–and unfortunately for you–Chrollo knows you very fucking well. So well, in fact, that he’s become really good at predicting not only your next moves, but also what goes on in your head. He knew it wouldn’t take long for your mind to overwhelm you–that fresh start of yours isn’t feeling all that fresh anymore, is it? 

Chrollo wouldn’t go find you right away, no, he’d let you struggle for a bit before he made a move. The Troupe would probably question their boss’ somewhat unusual approach to the situation, but they wouldn’t push their luck–they knew better than to risk overstepping any boundaries, especially when it involves you and Chrollo. Just because his love for you is fucked up unconventional doesn’t mean he’s going to act impulsively to get you back, that's not how Chrollo operates, his methods are much more refined and efficient than that. 

But, that doesn’t mean Chrollo won’t be thinking of you. You’re always on his mind. He’d deny it, but the mental image of you–somewhere far away and stressed out, trying to move on with your life–was oddly satisfying. Some might say that’s cruel, but Chrollo sees it as conditioning. And Chrollo is a master manipulator. He may appear relatively passive on the outside, but you should never underestimate him. I feel like nothing is off-limits with Chrollo, and he’ll do anything and everything to make it impossible for you to leave him. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. So, it's really not much of a surprise that you’re remorseful about running away. That’s exactly what he planned. 

From the very beginning, Chrollo has been subtly manipulating and conditioning you, instilling doubt and dependency within you. He’d isolate you from the outside world and from the other people in your life, both physically and emotionally. He kept you by his side, never allowing you to stray too far. Even when you thought you were alone, he was watching. He gave you the illusion of freedom–a door that was occasionally left unlocked, access to his entire apartment, the opportunity to go outside, but only with him. He’d make you question the relationships you had with everyone that wasn’t him, slowly turning you against them. Do they actually care about you? Do they actually understand you like he does? Those were his ways of making sure there was nobody else you can interact with, forcing you to become dependent on him for everything.

Chrollo wouldn’t stop there. There were times when he would let his guard down, allowing you to see moments of vulnerability. He would tell you things–his past, his thoughts–enough to make you believe there was more to him than the monster you feared. When you eventually opened up to him about your own thoughts, he’d listen. He always listened so fucking carefully. He made you feel like he understood you better than anyone else ever had, or ever could.

And it all paid off in the end. For him, at least.

It’s almost been two months without Chrollo and surprisingly, it doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. In fact, your newfound freedom feels fucking horrible. It doesn’t make sense–you should be thrilled that you’ve managed to escape after being held captive for one year. You had planned this escape for months, spending countless nights going over it again and again in your head until it was foolproof. It worked, yet you were far from satisfied.

Feeling more than a little conflicted about your state of mind, you move to sit on the couch in your living room. The old, faded piece of furniture creaks beneath your weight as you settle into the cushions. It felt cold and unfamiliar. The couch was probably older than you–faded, torn, and pilling–unlike the expensive plush one that Chrollo has. That one felt warm and familiar. Anxiously, you stir your half drank cup of coffee and take a sip, grimacing slightly. Even his fucking coffee was better than yours. 

This new life was supposed to be a fresh start, but instead, it was a constant reminder of everything you left behind. It seems that no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get Chrollo out of your mind. Every little sound–footsteps, doors opening–sent you into fight or flight mode, always on edge. It felt like you were living with a shadow that was slowly closing in, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to run away from it. Fear, longing, and resentment were just a few of the emotions you’ve learned to cope with, but it never got any easier. 

Part of you missed the late night, deep conversations, the way he listened intently, as if your words were the most important thing in the world. Now, your nights are restless, haunted by constant nightmares involving a certain raven haired man. Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome? There’s no way to be sure–therapy costs money, and you aren’t exactly rolling in it. Your hands tremble as you place the mug down, spilling the dark liquid all over the side table. Still trapped in your mind, you get up from the shitty couch and head towards the kitchen, moving to grab a rag to clean up the equally shitty coffee. 

A small creak from behind catches your attention, making you pause momentarily to glance over your shoulder. Like countless other times, there's nothing there. Maybe you don’t even need a psych to diagnose you, since you’re already going insane. Sighing, you grab the rag and start walking back toward the living room. 

“A bit late for coffee, is it not?” The smooth sounding voice instantly makes you freeze in place, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with a rush of emotions. There’s a certain lightness in his tone that’s not usually present–it’s almost like he’s teasing yet chiding you. Either way, you weren’t going to concern yourself with the semantics.

It feels like your body has been completely paralyzed. Yet, somehow, you manage to summon the courage to slowly turn your gaze towards the source of the voice, finding it at the front entrance of your apartment. What you see is enough to make you feel faint, your head spinning and your stomach dropping like a stone–it’s Chrollo, looming in the doorway, his large eyes focused solely on you as a soft, enigmatic smile plays on his lips. Unconsciously, a whimper escapes your lips and your mind suddenly kicks into overdrive, frantically attempting to process the overwhelming reality of what’s happening. All those conflicting thoughts from moments ago flood back into your mind.

You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the relief of finally seeing him again and the chilling fear of what this unexpected encounter might bring. You had started a new life here, a life that was simpler, quieter, more peaceful. But as you stand there, facing Chrollo and the flood of memories he brings, you can't help but question–was it truly peace? You must’ve only been standing there–stuck in your thoughts–for a few minutes, but Chrollo seems to notice your dazed state and decides to speak up again, effectively snapping you back to reality. 

“May I come in? We have so much to discuss.” Chrollo says, his voice as gentle and as reassuring as you remember. Without waiting for your response, he's already stepping across the threshold and moving into your apartment, making his way toward the living room. His approach is calm and measured. It’s almost as if he’s been in your apartment a thousand times before, and as if he has all the time in the world. Rooted to the spot, your hand trembles as you clutch the damp rag, watching as Chrollo takes your previously occupied seat on the couch.

“Chrollo?” You find yourself whispering, your voice barely more than a shaky exhale, hesitant and filled with uncertainty. Saying his name after the silence of these past months feels strange, foreign, but oddly enough, you find yourself not hating it. Chrollo doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he sinks deeper into the couch, leaning back casually and letting his hands rest on top of his thighs. The silence stretches on, lingering too long, and a part of you believes he’s doing it on purpose. 

“You seem troubled,” Chrollo observes, his dark eyes softening a fraction. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” He insists softly, tilting his head toward the empty spot next to him on the couch, a silent command for you to join him. Despite his calm demeanor, it’s quite clear that he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He won’t deny it–your little escape was mildly infuriating. But he wasn’t entirely without compassion–at least, that’s what he liked to believe.

Your chest tightens painfully at his words, each breath feeling like a struggle, as if your lungs are refusing to expand. Your vision blurs as tears gather, threatening to spill over at any moment. You’ve reached your breaking point–the emotions you’ve been painstakingly avoiding have finally surfaced. The ache of remorse gnaws at you, a torrent of regret and guilt that you've been desperately trying to suppress. You open your mouth to respond–to say something, anything at all–but find yourself choking pitifully on a sob, no words coming out. 

The tears start to fall, pouring down your cheeks as you stumble blindly toward the couch, dropping the rag on the ground and barely registering the resigned sigh that Chrollo lets out. You plop down onto the couch next to Chrollo, feeling utterly pathetic about your current state. Not even a second later, Chrollo’s arm slips behind your back and wraps securely around your waist, pulling your trembling body toward his. You don’t fight it, instead allowing your face to bury into the comforting warmth of his chest, while his hand gently cradles the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat over and over again, your voice cracking as you sob into his chest. 

Chrollo’s quiet again, the silence only broken by your sniffles and unsteady breaths. His fingers thread soothingly through your hair, softly shushing you. “You’re okay, I’m right here,” he reassures, his voice stripped of its usual firmness, now softer, gentler, almost tender. His expression remains unreadable as he looks down at you, his eyes revealing nothing of thoughts that are undoubtedly coursing through his mind right now. Internally, however, he feels a tinge of satisfaction upon hearing your apologetic pleas. Maybe things can go back to the way they were, or maybe they'll morph into something new, something better. 

There’s another pause, a moment where he lets you compose yourself. He doesn't mention your escape, or the remorse you've shown–not just yet. In truth, Chrollo is not the least bit surprised by your emotional spiral. He knows you well enough to understand that this is not merely a reaction to his relentless pursuit and eventual discovery of your whereabouts. No, this is an entirely different kind of response, one born out of internal conflict.

If it were any other man in this position, they might have felt guilty for putting you through so much torment. But Chrollo is not ‘any other man.’ Far from it. As he watches you break down in his arms, he doesn’t feel any guilt. He doesn’t see your suffering as something he should apologize for. Why would he? For Chrollo, he sees this as a necessary consequence of the bond he’s carefully created. And he can see that you’re finally starting to understand.

During your time together, Chrollo had a way of making you question everything. Slowly but surely, he instilled a sense of doubt and dependency within you. It was never obvious. That wasn’t his style. 

He had a way of making you believe that the outside world was cruel and dangerous. Every time he caught you looking at the door, he’d remind you–without even needing to say a word–that he was the only one who could truly protect you. A raised brow and slight tilt of his head was more than enough to remind you of everything he had told you before. He was never threatening about it, he didn’t need to be. A simple look from him was all it took for you to hesitate, to second-guess walking out that door. 

Would it really be better out there than here? Could you really handle Yorknew City? Surely, there were people out there much worse than him, right? People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone like you. You could imagine it so vividly: faceless men with rough hands that wouldn’t give a shit about you, your struggles, or your pleas. They’d only see you as a pretty little thing to use. Chrollo never said it outright, but the implication was always there: he wasn’t like them. His touches, though somewhat unwelcome and borderline possessive, were never violent. 

At least with Chrollo, you knew the rules and boundaries–his rules and boundaries. And he never lied to you, not really. The world really was dangerous. There really were people out there who would hurt you. He made sure that you believed he was the best choice. And who else was there for you, really? Not your friends, the ones he slowly convinced you that they didn’t care as much as they claimed. Not your family, who couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of your situation. No, it was just Chrollo. He wasn’t the monster you wanted him to be. He was something far worse: he was everything you didn’t know you needed. And that was much more fucking terrifying.

Finally pulling himself from his thoughts, Chrollo decides that he’s made you suffer in silence for long enough. “You should not have tried to escape, [name],” he says, his voice gentle but carries a clear note of criticism and disappointment. He deliberately uses your name, refraining from the endearing nicknames he usually employs. It's a subtle punishment, a way to remind you of your mistakes. He knows exactly what kind of impact it has on you–how the distance it creates makes you feel small, like a reprimanded child. “Predictably, it didn’t end well.” His tone is soft, almost conversational.

Chrollo pauses again, his fingers suddenly halting their soothing rhythm in your hair. Abruptly, he withdraws the comforting contact, depriving you of the warmth you didn’t even realize you’d come to depend on. You can’t stop yourself from tensing in his arms, struggling to stifle a choked sob. You can’t see it–not with your teary face buried in his chest–but there’s a faint curl of his lips, a flicker of satisfaction at your reaction. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He lets out a deep, exaggerated sigh, his hand pulling away from your scalp completely. Now it rests on the frayed backrest of the couch, lazily tracing patterns on the rough fabric. 

“Running… it doesn’t suit you.” The words are so plain, so final. It's not suggestion or opinion, but a fucking fact. It’s the way he always spoke to you, as if he knew you better than you knew yourself. “It only leads you to pain and suffering. Surely, you’ve realized that by now?” There is no anger or frustration in his voice, just that same steady, disorientating calm that makes you second-guess everything. He speaks as if this entire situation is simply an inconvenience to him, which makes it near impossible to decipher his true thoughts and feelings. 

And then, Chrollo gently but firmly tilts your head up, leaving no room for you to resist him. Not like it would do you any good. Forcing you to meet his gaze, he studies you intently, his dark eyes partially shielded by the strands of raven hair that fall across his pale face. “You’re an intelligent woman,” he murmurs, and for some reason, it felt more like he was mocking you rather than giving you a genuine compliment. “I’m certain that you can grasp the situation.” As he speaks, his grip on your face tightens significantly, hinting at the threat that lies beneath his words. It’s his little way of telling you that you should know better.  

You wince as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your jaw, more out of surprise than pain. The pressure isn’t unbearable, but it’s enough to remind you of his control. You don’t have much faith in your ability to form a coherent sentence right now, not when your throat feels tight and your thoughts are a jumbled mess. Instead, you nod in response, hoping it’s enough. 

Chrollo’s eyes flicker with approval, and maybe a hint of amusement. It’s impossible to be sure with him. He releases your jaw as he lets out a satisfied hum of acknowledgement, now wiping away a few stray tears from your damp cheeks. The gesture should feel comforting, but instead, it leaves you feeling hollow, like being soothed after a punishment you never deserved. “Good girl.” The praise rolls off his tongue easily, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re emotional,” he says, almost to himself. “But you’ll understand in time.”

“It’s time to go home. We’ll continue this conversation later,” He adds, reminding you that this matter is far from resolved.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Yandere Sangwoo in the games

AU (two can live at the end) - Mentions of killing - Manipulation - NSFW - Jealous!Sangwoo - Mentions of Death -

Yandere in games Sangwoo its a beast for the rest and a big softie for you.

You two know each other from college and Sangwoo always had a crush on you but never acted on it.

He tought being your friend was enough and he got to know your deepest secrets, but as soon as he saw how he could do other things with you if you two were together he started to get jealous and separated himself from you during last years.

This was to keep himself from going after your partner and punch them for hurting you or him getting delusional by your constant show of emotions towards him.

When he sees you in the games his mind its one thing: protect

Even if you are mad at him by how he cut you off without you knowing the reason he still makes you be part of his "team" (he needs to thank Gi-hun since he was the one to convince you).

But oh hell, you just made a Friends with the others so quickly-

He wants nothing but to put a knife on their necks.

He gives you small hints for the games, taking your hand by his forcefully making you go for the circle in the honey game.

Yes you are angry at him but Sangwoo is thinking in your survival (and his) and also thinking how good your hand feels against his. How soft your skin his and how cute you are when you press your hand around his when the game its announced.

Still....you are dense and dont let the past go easily. So you end ignoring him most of the time. You tried once to get the reason of why he stopped talking to you but Sangwoo said it was not the time to talk about it.

So you go back to ignore him.

However one night he decides to go back to your bed. Laying down with you after one particular hard game, using your vulnerable state to whisper sweet words to help you feel less scared.

You just happened to lose one friend in the marble game and now you are too tired and sad to understand things. So of course you let Sangwoo in your bed. You let him pull you towards him, he kisses the back of your neck and ear making you shiver. He would use one hand to caress your belly imagining a life with you an a child in the future.

As some times passes you will find yourself trusting him more. Sangwoo ends being your shadow and your brain. Literally, he is the one who takes the decisions and does not let you say anything.

When the game of the glass bridge came you saw how Sangwoo pushed that men. You two fought over it like a married couple him saying it was to protect you but you still blame him as a murder.

And Sangwoo ends mad but somehow aroused by your strong persobality and convictions so he takes your hand and makes you go to the batrhoom with him with the excuse that is to wash the blood but its to fuck you inside one of the stalls.

Truly, you are not sure if you want him like this but at the feeling of his hot brath against your neck and his demanding kisses. His fingers touching you nice and fast hitting your weak spot and then his hard dick ending inside you and how he tells you how much he has dream about this and how nice you feel around him. You dont even notice when he cums inside you till later that night after the nice dinner they gave you.

Since you two are being so loved by the rich people seeing the games its decided two can win.

So now you have to fight off Gi-hun and Sae-byeok something that does not set down with you till you see Sangwoo killing her once Gi-hun its knocked down on the floor, blood coming out from his head.

And so the game ends. You two are drugged again and left on a cold park together. Sangwoo its the first to wake up and would quickly check his account and make you check yours. Since you are too stunned to do anything Sangwoo will use this chance to take you back to his aparent. He knows you will be mad at him for the next weeks so he needs to have you by his side so he can convince you that he is the best choice you have (you dont have one) and that you need him. Because who is going to believe you about the games? For sure you will need someone to talk to.

Basically, bond by trauma and manipulation. I can see him getting you to see his mother (who you already knew) telling her you two are an item and since you cant bring yourself to break the poor humans heart you will you accept your fate by Sangwoo side.

~~~☆~~~☆~~~☆~~~☆~~~☆~~~☆~~~☆

Notes: this was so long and took me so much energy guys :,)

[cyberbark]

xiao x dom male reader

wc: around 1k, not proofread bc editing sucks balls

cw: riding, cock slapping, praise, humiliation, xiao has a small dick, manipulation (?) at the end, mean reader, belly bulge, aftercare mentioned, s/m themes

i was sick since may but i'll (hopefully) get back to posting once or twice a month. feel free to req characters!

nsfw below the cut, minors dni.

Xiao looks so cute when he rides your dick. He’s utterly fucked out of his mind, and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. He gets overstimulated easily. 

Poor Xiao can’t even scream anymore, all he does is moan and whimper when your dick hits the right spots inside his little body. He can’t keep himself stable and trembles a lot when he’s on top, it’s not any different when he’s on his back either.

You like seeing him try so hard to please you but at the end, it’s you who’s doing most of the work such as holding him by his waist and maneuvering his body up and down. 

“Faster, Xiao,” You say and he desperately looks at you in exhaustion.

He shakes his head meekly and a few tears slip from his eyes. 

“Can’t—ah— please, help,” He says. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. 

“C’mon, you can do it, right?” You ask as you give a quick slap to his cock. Xiao arched forward and a surprised gasp left his mouth. More tears gather at his eyes from the pain, but his cock aches for more and it made Xiao embarrassed. Enclosing your hand on his small cock, a sadistic thought crossed your mind. 

“You like that, huh?” You teased, tugging at his cock while his body went still at the overwhelming friction. Xiao waited intently for your next move.

“Who said you could stop?” You sharply asked and he fumbled a little with the pace. Xiao could feel your eyes on him, watching him bounce on your cock. He continued moaning, knowing he was close to cumming this fast.

You started jerking his cock as well, increasing the painful pleasure he was receiving. Xiao’s mind was blanking but he had to ask you permission to cum. He could hardly form any words though. 

Your other hand went up his waist rather than supporting his body. You wanted to see Xiao fall apart. You slowly traced his stomach where you could clearly see an outline of your cock thrusting in and out of Xiao. 

His eyes followed your trace and his face grew hotter by the second he saw how lewd he was being. When you pinched his nipples, Xiao started to move erratically, letting out a string of pleas which made your cock throb at his pathetic sight.

Xiao didn’t register what he was doing until he felt his own fingers on his other neglected nipple. Who knew the adeptus had it in him? He was so pretty when he lost all sense of rationality and was reduced to a sobbing mess because of you. 

Xiao was hitting his peak, the pleasure was making him numb. Your dick thrusting inside him was enough to cum right then and there. ‘Just a little more,�� he thought. With a last thrust, he was going to cum. He gripped your shoulders tightly and hoped you’d coddle him when he’s coming down from his high. But it never came. 

“Something wrong, love?” You asked. 

Wrong? Obviously yes! You had stopped him from moving and held his waist tightly. He gave a frustrated grunt as sobs wrecked his body. 

“Was s’close!” Xiao complained. You soothed him by leaving trails of kisses on his neck.

“Don't be a brat, Xiao. Can my adeptus not handle a little stalling?” You asked, brushing aside his tears. 

“No, no, I can! Please let me move.” Xiao begged and you released your hold on his waist. 

“Then show me.” You said and cupped his face to kiss him roughly. You swallowed his delighted mewls when he rode you. Xiao pulled away from you to catch his breath but you had other plans. Your hand went down to his cock again to toy with him. 

This time, you won’t let him live down the embarrassment. After all, a shy adeptus feasted your hungry eyes.

You gave an experimental flick to his small cock and thumbed his pretty pink head.

“What do you want me to do, Xiao?” You asked, tugging at his dick. 

Xiao, who you thought would be initially too flustered to answer, answered, “Can you—hng— slap it again?” His voice was shaky but he really wanted to feel the ache again. He didn’t know why either, he doesn’t usually like the pain.

You followed suit. Gently slapping his dick a couple of times brought him closer to his edge quickly. He was moaning breathlessly near your ear, grinding on your cock. 

“Am I doing good?” Xiao asks, leaning closer to you.

“Mhm, you’re my good boy, the goodest boy for me.” You say and your hips buck up into Xiao to chase your own high.

Xiao nods feverishly at your words, a tingle going through his body. You take it as a cue to continue, “You’re taking me so well, Xiao. That deserves a reward, no? I’ll let you cum.”

Upon hearing that, Xiao’s hole clenched around your cock and his pace became uneven. He was spewing unintelligent ramblings in between his mewls. His nails were digging into your shoulders with enough force to draw blood. His eyes rolled back and all he could see was white nothingness. Xiao came with a loud, hoarse moan and slumped forward. His orgasm took a toll on his body. 

You could never get tired of seeing his blissful state. Instead of letting him rest, you manhandled him so that he was laying on his stomach. 

“Please, no more! It hurts!” He protested. 

“But I didn’t get to finish yet, Xiao. Maybe my adeptus can’t take too much.” You said.

“Just once.” Xiao felt guilty so he gave in. 

You smiled, your cock slipping into him without much effort. “My pretty boy always makes me feel good.”

Xiao didn’t have time to think when you roughly pounded him from behind. His body was burning from oversensitivity. His dick was aching because of the friction from the sheets below him. He couldn’t wriggle around, his body was heavy and his eyes barely stayed open. 

He couldn’t make out the words you said before you came in him but all he remembered was agreeing with your false promises of 'just once more' till he was left shooting blanks and having his hole filled by you to the brim. The aftercare was worth it though.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

❗❗ HEY ❗❗ I SAUR YEW ADD BUCKY BARNES TO YOUR MLIST 🫵🫵🫵 YOU AINT SLICK ❗❗

anywayssss would you be willing to rank your comic book men on least to most willing to kill for their darling? i know we got your opinion on dick but i wanna see how it compares to everyone else

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋…

!!! GN reader, mentions of death/murder, violence, breaking bones, intimidation, threats, manipulation, general mental issues, biochemical attack (how the fuck did we get here), mutilation, self-harm, can be translated as either romantic or platonic.

Help, why did the beginning of this ask trigger my fight or flight for 0.2 seconds, LMAO. I dropped my phone like I was caught red-handed or some shit.

So, I initially made an oath to not answer any more asks until I either finish Life With Older Brother IV or my secret side project, but then I got this ask and figured I could use a little creative break. I’m hitting some brick walls right now with all of my writing projects, sobs.

So!! Here we go. Remember, this is in the order of least to most likely in a general sense. Featuring some new faces because I’m finally confident in depicting their comic book counterparts, yippee!!

Jaime Reyes: Obviously, if the scarab had its way, anyone who poses as a threat to Jaime’s beloved would be neutralized. But we’re talking about Jaime. As long as he’s in full control, he’d probably do everything in his power to not kill anyone, even if it’s for you. He knows he’s fucked in the head. No matter how hard he tries to convince himself it’s still just the scarab preying on his anxieties, it’s getting harder and harder to distinguish Khaji Da’s thoughts from his own. This spiral into insanity around his own morality and guilt would have him cling oh-so desperately to the idea that he’s still a hero. To him, the no-kill role is the only way to know for sure he’s still (kind of) himself.

Bruce Wayne: He’s The Batman. Of course he doesn’t kill. Sure, he may be a bit more violent towards potential threats when it comes to you, but he still doesn’t kill. It’s a core belief that he’ll stick to for as long as evil lurks in the shadows of Gotham. Besides, why would he need to kill when cracking a few ribs gets the message across just fine? Most people don’t even want to fuck with him in the first place; both as Bruce Wayne and especially The Batman. In many cases, simple intimidation will do the trick. It’s much neater than violence. Though violence is definitely still on the table when he’s in a mood (Alfred, for the last time, he does not need a therapist. He’s perfectly functional).

Clark Kent: Whereas Batman doesn’t kill, Superman can’t kill. Meaning, Clark is well aware of the image he has to uphold as the ever-so hopeful Man of Tomorrow. Which is actually fine by him. Due to his strong sense of morals, the thought of blood on his hands makes him sick to his stomach. But there are some cases where that dark voice in the back of his mind whispers he could easily snap the neck of that weirdo talking to you. Of course, this is clearly just a strange intrusive thought, and he guiltily shakes it out of his head the moment it appears. He’s Superman, for heaven’s sake! He’s better than that! Stooping to that level is simply not an option. But you know what is an option? Gripping people hard enough that their bones shatter. Accidents do happen, after all…

Wally West: The chances of him killing are very slim. Believe it or not, he’s not against the idea or anything (only when it comes to you), it’s just he doesn’t see the need to get his hands dirty. There are enough tactics in his arsenal that the thought won’t even cross his mind. A silver tongue can work miracles on its own, and standing at 6 feet tall, Wally can be surprisingly intimidating in his own right. Should there be any threat agains you, he’s more focused on getting you out of harm’s way than beating the shit out of anyone (that comes later, away from your prying eyes). At worst, anyone who pushes their luck will get fractures and road rashes as a result. Killing just isn’t an impulse Wally has. But if it absolutely has to happen… well, wouldn’t that be a shame?

Dick Grayson: As mentioned before in a previous ask, killing is off the table. Dick’s still a hero, and heroes don’t kill. It’s just that he miiiight accidentally lose control if he sees you in a critical state. The ask goes into much deeper detail than this, but to sum it up, he would feel devastated afterwards but eventually justify it to himself. It was to protect you… if he didn’t do it, god only knows what would’ve happened. Otherwise, he’s not one to get his hands dirty like that. The most he’ll do is deliver a very ominous threat that doesn’t outright mean he’s going to kill anyone, but the implications aren’t very pretty. And, if he can help it, he’d rather if you’re not in earshot. Unless if he somehow sees it as a good manipulation tactic. Then sure, you can hear all about how he’s going to drown someone in their own bathroom.

Peter Parker: He has a strong aversion to killing. Now, is that an outright no? As much as he’d like to think so, there are situations where no-kill is optional. Most of them involve you being in active danger. While he doesn’t go out of his way to kill anyone, he sure as hell isn’t thinking about the survivability of his rampage to make sure you’re safe. Causalities would be collateral damage; unfortunate, but possibly necessary. He also has a habit of threatening people’s lives when he’s particularly pissed off. As long as you’re not in some sort of critical state, he usually doesn’t follow through with them (and may even feel guilty afterwards). That being said, hearing your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man deliver a cold one-liner about wanting someone dead is still hella scary.

Steve Rogers: Listen, it’s not at all what he wants. He wouldn’t advocate for murdering your problems away both with or without the shield. But sometimes — just sometimes — it’s necessary. Of course he’d kill someone that posed as a threat to your personal safety. That doesn’t make him a terrible person or anything; most people would do that for their loved ones. Where the line starts to blur, however, is when there isn’t any immediate danger. Does that weirdo who was looking at you for too long count? God— no, Rogers. What is wrong with you?! But… then again, there was this look in their eyes… something’s just so off about them. Ultimately, Steve wouldn’t go through with it, but the thought does cross his mind. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

Hal Jordan: The answer is yes, but mostly because he’s a Lantern. Sometimes, neutralizing the threat is necessary. He would absolutely kill if it meant saving your life. Is it ideal? Absolutely not. Is it cathartic?… Lowkey. Hal’s not afraid to abuse his right as a Lantern to “neutralize the threat.” But keep in mind that this is a rare occurrence that depends on his mood. Really, he only considers it for situations you’re extremely distressed by, like some piece of shit giving you the creeps. He wouldn’t kill for his own personal gain, as much as he sometimes wants to; this is all about you, not him. I also don’t really see him having regrets. If he wants someone dead, he absolutely means it.

Remy LeBeau: It’s simple; if he’s gotta do it, he’s gotta do it. He’s got not moral hang-ups when it comes to killing. He doesn’t do it often, but he’s willing to clean up a mess or two if needed. The need to kill ranges from your personal safety to just not liking someone’s vibe. If that were the case, he’d give the poor sucker more than enough hints to leave you alone. Murder would be a last resort should they not listen; which is totally on them, by the way. Gambit can’t help it if they’re not the sharpest tool in the shed. Is kinetically charging someone’s car to explode not enough of a warning or something? Man, what is wrong with people these days…

Tim Drake: Okay. Tim is just so versatile. Yes, he’s absolutely morally opposed to killing. Yes, it’s a necessary evil. Yes, the thought of it makes him want to throw up. Yes, he’d do it in a heartbeat for you. Somehow, all of these thoughts coexist in his sick little head. What makes Tim a threat is the fact he’s extremely unstable. One day, he’s got himself in check; god, he would never kill anyone, why would he do that?! Then the next day, he seems to have a change of heart; if anyone even looks your way, he’s dumping anthrax in their cereal. His preferred method is something clean, but if he’s in a particularly bad mood, he may revert to some mutilation with his nails. On those particularly violent days, he’d much rather harm himself than others, but there is something cathartic about scratching at someone else while sobbing about minute problems. Though that’s one hell of a “did I do that” moment when it’s over.

Scott Summers: Yes. And he’ll fucking do it again, too. When it comes to you, this man has killed people by accident before. Did he give a shit? Absolutely not. Why would he care if someone doesn’t know how to protect their spinal column when taking a blow; especially if it’s someone who dared to lay a hand on you? And, yeah, he’s supposed to be a good role model for mutants all over the globe, but a good leader knows how to take calculated risks when needed. Your safety is his top priority, meaning he’ll do whatever he deems necessary to keep danger away. Man, is it just absolutely brutal watching someone’s skin melt away from the friction of one continuous optic blast. Who knew he could cave in skulls with that shit?

Bucky Barnes: Let’s be honest, is anyone surprised? Yeah, that’s what I thought. You could simply point to someone you hate and they’d be gone within the next 24 hours. Bucky isn’t here to fuck around. While he may regret any kills he was forced to carry out, he sure as hell doesn’t regret the ones he’s actively choosing to do. If anything, his conditioning has left him no other way to show his total devotion to you. Yes, this means you he leaves fresh human hearts at your doorstep. Yes, this means he strings up the remains of your annoying colleagues where you can see them outside. Yes, this means he watches you sleep while caked in blood and guts after every nightly kill. Some small part of him knows it’s wrong, but he really could not give less of a shit. So much for trying to reform him…

[yawnderu]

Miguel O'Hara x Catgirl!Reader

based on one of my favorite roleplays♡ I'll be writing more about catgirl!reader, watch me.

Ngl, not fully satisfied with this one but here we go.

CW: manipulation (coming from the reader), blowjob, deepthroat, face fucking, face slapping, cum swallowing, choking on dick.

"I hate you." Miguel mumbles as you wrap your arms around him, too damn tired to try to pull away from you. He knows it's futile even if he tried, you'd keep clinging to him like a leech. And maybe that's exactly what you are.

God, he hates you. He can't stand all your teasing, or how the only reason you come back to him is his money. He can't stand how you broke down his walls within months, walls he had spent years carefully crafting to avoid this exact same situation.

"Oh, but you love me." You said teasingly, your face against his pecs as you kept rubbing your cheeks on the supple skin. You know he hates whenever you touch his chest, especially after that "nice tits, O'Hara" comment, yet it's so much fun to annoy him. To see the man who stands tall and proud crumble down. Miguel doesn't say anything, simply rolling his eyes as he gently pushes your head away from his chest.

"Puta madre... no puedo más." Miguel mumbles softly, holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers as his eyes close. He doesn't even know why he's dealing with you— he could easily make you go away, yet something about you makes him feel alive for the first time since he lost his daughter. You're a breath of fresh air from all the nightmares, although you're a nightmare yourself.

"Then maybe I should find another man to fund my things, no?" You asked teasingly, knowing damn well Miguel would rather die than allow that. You know he's possessive of you, you know he'd hate to see you go to another man for anything. He would give you the world if you asked for it.

"You know I can't let that happen." He finally looks down at you, pure annoyance on his face, yet his eyes show just how much the idea bothers him. "A man buying you things? I would end him." And it's true. If Miguel could be more honest with himself, he would be. He's very possessive of you, despite the fact that he's fully aware he's being manipulated and used for what he can provide. He already spent too many nights hating himself for allowing it, he already came to terms with it.

"Aw... and what if another man touches me? What if I like it?" Your words make him visibly tense up and he can feel the sensation of his fangs starting to come out. He knows you want a reaction out of him, and for whatever reason, he's giving it to you. It should be okay since you're both alone in his house, no?

"He'd be dead before he could even try to touch you." Miguel replies, dead serious and firm. His voice is a tad bit less sharp, but when it comes to you and other men, his protective instincts kick in.

"You're mine and no one else's. Forever." And just to make a point, he holds your face as he speaks, long fingers holding your jaw with surprising gentleness.

"And what if—" You can't even finish your sentence before Miguel squeezes your face.

"Cállate." His voice is sharp as he snaps back at you, and he's not sure whether he wants to punch or kiss you. He looks down at you with pure annoyance. His 6'9 behemoth frame would intimidate anyone, yet you're simply grinning up at him like an idiot, looking proud about pissing him off. His gaze drifts down to your lips, admiring the plump flesh before, against his better judgment, his thumb teasingly rubs your lower lip.

"Eres tan linda, pero tan cruel." He speaks softly, almost as if he was putting his thoughts into words. You open your mouth slightly, allowing his thumb into your mouth as you begin sucking on it teasingly, your tongue gently rubbing on the bare skin as he disengages the suit on his hand only.

"Dios mío." He can feel himself starting to get hard beneath his tech suit, thinking back on all the times you've sucked him off.

You never did any sexual favors for money, you simply did it as a reward for him. To keep him interested and enamored with you, and it worked. It always worked, all you had to do was get on your knees and look up at him with those pretty, doe eyes.

He disengaged the suit on his crotch, his fat cock coming out and gently landing on your cheek, making you giggle softly. Your paw went up to slowly stroke his shaft as your tongue began to teasingly lick the tip of his dick, the taste of his precum all over it. Miguel hissed as you licked the slit of his tip, his hand now resting on your head, scratching the back of your ear softly, knowing how pleasant is is for you.

"Buena chica." He praised softly, his eyes closing as you began to suck him off, slowly taking more and more of his big cock into your mouth. He helped you by gently pushing your head towards his hips, groaning at the feeling of your tight throat swallowing him up. Both of his hands went to the sides of your head, starting to thrust into your throat deeply, yet still holding back to not hurt you.

"Así, así..." He mumbled as he fucked into your throat, holding you in place once he was fully inside, your nose hitting his well-groomed happy-trail before he began slamming into you again, his fangs now coming out as he got lost in the sensation of your warm throat. You may hold the cards in whatever relationship you two had, but he was always the one in control whenever his dick was inside any of your holes.

"You need it just as bad as me, mutt." His voice is rough and raspy, eyes fluttering as he thrashes into your throat, pulling out only to give you the chance to breathe. You greedily gasp for air, coughing softly as your throat finally has an air flow. Miguel jerks himself off while staring at you, moving the tip of his dick all over your cheek, smearing it with your own spit and his precum.

He waits until you nod your head, lifting your face with one hand as his other one delivers a hard slap to your cheek before he starts to fuck your face again, the stinging feeling of the slap and his cock all the way down your throat making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Miguel is using you like a sex-toy, yet the feeling is always too good to care. These are the only moments he gets to have any control in your relationship, no matter what.

"Mierda..." He hisses out as he bites his lip to prevent a guttural moan to escape his mouth. He looks so pretty like this; eyebrows furrowed slightly, his face covered by a thin layer of sweat, nose slightly scrunched fangs bared as he focuses on fucking your face. His thrusts begin to get more sloppy after a few minutes, and it's clear he won't last long.

With one last deep thrust and a loud groan, he slams his cock all the way down your throat, forcing you to swallow all his warm and sticky cum. Miguel cums a lot, and you're forced to deal with it. Coughing and struggling for air, yet he doesn't pull his dick out, not until he's sure you swallowed all of it.

"Good girl." He praises, sighing softly as he pulls his cock out gently, laying it down on your face as you struggle for air, tears rimming your eyes as you cough. A satisfied smirk sets on his lips as you look up at him with a grin.

"How much money did you need again?"

[bandgie]

could you do a dark vampire yeonjun?? maybe a little kidnapping…

a/n: OHHH dude I had to read this shit like 3 times. I thought it said 'kid napping' not 'kidnapping' I was so thrown off. but yessss

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, manipulation, implied kidnapping(obvi)/mind control, possessive Yeonjun, mind break mentions, overstimulation (f!), sex stuff ya know the usual

633 words

He's harsh with his thrusts, uncaring for how you beg him to slow down. His cock is deep inside you as if trying to mold it's shape into your pussy. He yanks on your hair to pull you upwards, your ass pressed harder against the front of his thighs.

Yeonjun loves the sight of you. How your back arches from being relentlessly pounded into, your quivering legs trying to keep you upright, the way your hands try to find purchase at the wall in front of you.

No matter how delicious you looked to eat, Yeonjun needed a taste of you like this. He craved to see you creaming on his dick, moaning uncontrollably at his violent strokes.

All you can feel is arousal, such overwhelming warmth you think you might get a fever. It feels heavenly to have Yeonjun's freezing body surround yours. You don't have any idea why you were so frightened of him in the first place.

This feeling is pure bliss and you pray it never ends.

Yeonjun snakes his hand down around your waist, pressing upwards to your stomach. The pressure makes you mewl, forcing you to feel his length inside much more. His other hand keeps steady at your hips to make you bounce on him.

The hand on your stomach travels further down, finding your swollen clit. Yeonjun's nimble fingers play with your pussy, drowning in the sounds of your wails and gasps.

"Too much! Yeonjun..it's too..." Your words turn into a series of moans.

Beg him all you want, cry until your throat is rubbed raw, but Yeonjun can't bring himself to stop. He won't. He's waited too long, put up with too many filthy humans just to be close with you in your work uniform.

He'll take you away from this life. This mundane style you live isn't what you need, it's not what you deserve. Yeonjun can't stand seeing you pretend to be happy where you are. You already trust him, even if he had to use some of his vampiric enchantments on you, the bond you've created is real.

It has to be real. Why else would you keep clenching on his cock eagerly? You want his cum, he thinks. You must need it with how deep your pussy opens for him.

Lost in his thoughts, Yeonjun doesn't catch how your sobs have increased. You've cum too many times much too quickly. It's making you break both physically and mentally. All you can think about is how sumptuously he's using you.

Maybe this is what you're good for, a warm cock sleeve for Yeonjun to take advantage of when he pleases.

After what seems like hours, Yeonjun begins showing signs of finishing. He's panting, clawing at your hips so roughly you know you'll have marks after. The fingers on your clit falter for a moment as he stills inside you.

His cock pulses repeatedly before he cums with a guttural moan. The warmth of his seed fills you up, and you feel what seems like your final orgasm crash down on you. Your legs nearly give out, cream leaking down your thighs.

Yeonjun places both of his hands on your waist to keep fucking yourself onto him, trying to milk out all the cum he has to give. It's not until you reach back and scratch at his hands that he lets up, releasing you.

Your knees buckle, and you fall to the hard ground of the alley. You're beyond spent, pussy throbbing in shattering pleasure that leaves you dumb.

There's no retaliation when Yeonjun picks you up easily, his strength unmatched to any mortal man.

This is the first of countless nights he'll have you, keep you. The human life you've been given will be forgotten.

Yeonjun knows where you belong.

[mikolovesracing]

i’m gonna rant. and if youre gonna come and comment on this post saying rude shit you can fuck right off with that bc im not having it. reconnect.

———

i can’t fathom what today did to lando.

his deflection of compliments from lewis hamilton in the max verstappen podcast room was heartbreaking. ik it looked like he was being an asshole and yeah! yk what, he probably was! but if you just had your second win pulled from you on a VERY PUBLIC STAGE, wouldn’t you be too?

and yes i understand that he under cut oscar im not saying that was right. dont get me twisted rn.

but can yall fucking stop with the lando norris hate club please? its such bullshit! i hate seeing it! forget hes an f1 driver and remember hes a person? that has real feelings? and real emotions???

he was used today! go back and listen to the team call of them emotionally manipulating him. its fucked!!!!

not only that but lando is incredibly hard on himself. lando truly is his own worst enemy. this man will beat himself up over anything, he cannot accept that he is worthy of celebrating himself and it kills me because i know what that feels like.

it hurts to see.

i know hes hurting.

he was hurt by his team.

fucked over by strategy.

and he still has to have happiness for oscar because he is a good person at heart and he has said that he can be more of a dick, yall forget how fucking nice he is. he puts effort into others and celebrates his friends and he is a good person at heart. yall are making him out to be this spoiled bitch brat and saying horrible things and im over it. ik zak brown treats him like he hung the moon and stars. and ik that oscar piastri DOES NOT get the same recognition. but that doesnt mean we get to come on the internet and whine and bitch that he was even slightly rude to lewis hamilton and that he didn’t seem pleased about p2

NEWSFLASH: he fucking wasn’t!!!!! oscar racec better than lando today, yes. but their team dangled a carrot in front of lando and took it away. they spoiled what could have been a great celebration for both drivers.

think about the sportsmanship he had today when he let oscar through. he could have easily said fuck you strategists, i’m in the lead.

so no! he didn’t want to! would you?????

he had to give up a win.

and please dont take this like im unhappy for oscar i am thrilled for his maiden win.

but even in oscars voice.

he isn’t celebrating himself either.

because mclaren hurt both of their drivers today. not just one over the other.

it feels wrong to be happy and sad simultaneously for a mclaren one two.

but neither of them seemed thrilled today.

not even oscar.

i think they have the power, they have the car, they have the drivers

put into perspective for a minute how cohesive of a team oscar and lando are, they work together closely and they have the opportunity to make big plays with big results! they respect one another and they have good chemistry and they listen to one another and they give each other a leg up.

its bittersweet.

but proceed with kindness in your words and hearts. celebrate oscar like theres no tomorrow(i am!) but equally treat people with respect. including lando.

thank you.

[brucewaynehater101]

There's this fic I read a long time ago while I was obsessed with tcf's fics, where OG!Cale's personality is suspiciously a lot friendly but it turns out that he actually died a while ago and Deruth trapped his soul in there or something. OG!Cale reaches out to Rok Soo, begging on his knees (HE CALLS OUT FOR RON!!), but then his body rebooted and he was back to his sus pleasant personality.

SO IT GOT ME THINKING. CRAVING. PLOTTING.

Wouldn't it be so nice if we used that manipulation technology that Bruce used on Jason? But combine it with some time-travel and Bruce uses it on Jason earlier before he debuts as Red Hood?

I want Tim, the person Jason was going to use as a lesson towards Bruce, to find Jason this way. He gets a few days of happiness, being with Jason. But fanon stalker instincts tell Tim that there is a whole lot that wasn't right with the past few days as well.

Although I also want some angst caused by Dick's denial, I think he would instantly believe Tim if he explained that Jason feels off. And that's why, I think Bruce never tells Dick about Jason coming back to life (like he never told Dick about when Jason died) conveniently also still off on some mission.

Tim, who had been (self appointedly) in charge of making Bruce's support group, makes the decision to crush it. By solely starting with Alfred.

He needs verbal confirmation on whether the old man is truly on his side or not.

So he tells him.

And Alfred, sweet old Alfred. The one who gave Tim the Robin suit in the first place. The one who enabled not only Bruce's bad habits but also Tim's own. The one who is either on Bruce's side or none at all.

Alfred weeps. And admits that he's known all this time.

And that's what's horrible.

"Jason admired you," Tim would tell him. "He loved you and followed your advice to heart.

"And you just. Let it all happen? He's probably waiting for you to notice! Because other than Bruce, you're the second person who's been there for him the whole time he stayed here!"

Tim looks at him in disgust.

"How could you?"

Without waiting for a reply, he leaves.

He takes Jason with him.

And then, he goes for the second person part of Bruce's support group who can very much ruin Bruce's life just as easily.

He takes Jason to Babs.

Oof! Time travel angst with the brain altering would be fantastic. Though, is Bruce the one who time travels, then? He, after already deciding to do that to Jason once, goes back in time and writes off the kid (especially if this is before Red Hood debuted and thus Jason would be max 18 years old). No talking to Jason, no effort, just Bruce going to the extreme.

Damn. Let's just keep building this fuckery up, shall we?

So, the symbolism of Tim taking Babs' support from Bruce away is fantastic. Before Tim got involved, Bruce was practically by himself. Babs had her own independence away from Bruce as Oracle and Dick was still fighting with Bruce (for good reasons).

After Tim finds out that Bruce did such fucked up shit? He pulls that man's support from him so fast. Also, Tim, who made his entire Robin career based on needing to pull Bruce from becoming a monster, does he end up feeling like a failure? Does he blame himself? Does he still tediously try to stop and fix Bruce?

Since it's probably before his 16th birthday, I think he wouldn't have the understanding of how cruel Bruce can be. This reveal is such a shock and hurts way more because Tim never thought Bruce could pull that shit against his children.

Despite his complicated feelings, Tim works to reverse the shit Bruce did to Jason's head.

This leads to Jason reverting back to his previous mental state. The man is traumatized by what Bruce did and begrudgingly thankful for Tim's assistant, but he still hates Tim's guts. He despises him.

After the days, weeks, whatever it took for them to reverse it, this is not the reaction Tim was expecting. Jason had been constantly scared, but he was also kind and affectionate to Tim. Seeing Jason become better yet hateful of Tim, especially after Tim had betrayed his mentor to do it? Damn.

Extra angst to be added on would be Bruce, after he realizes that Tim had betrayed him, goes to pick up Damian early. He needs a Robin, afterall, and he can't trust Tim.

This would make Damian max 8 at this age and thus the youngest Robin to hit the streets (I think) (Bruce is a horrible person in this AU, ig. Fuck that guy).

[risuola]

BREATHE THROUGH YOUR NOSE — F. READER x KAMO CHOSO, who’s your not-so-ordinary roommate

Blood is Choso’s thing, so it’s no surprise that he’s absolutely turned on when you show up in your shared room covered in it. Quickly, he abandoned watching tv and focused all of his attention on you. To help you, of course.

cw: smut, temperature play, breath play, choking, blood kink, body worship, littlest bit of aftercare, Choso is mean, but also he's the sweetest bean (couldn't decide), reader discretion is advised — 2,4k words

masterlist

“Breathe through your nose.” Choso’s deep, labored tone barely got acknowledged by your brain and something akin to hmph! made an attempt to leave your throat. You really couldn’t remember exactly how the hell you ended up there, on the leathery couch in your shared room, on your knees and elbows, with hands clenching the slippery fabric just to steady yourself a little bit.

Kamo was right beside you, ruthlessly pounding into you with all of the force his muscled body contained, bullying his cock deep into your soaked and dripping insides. For a good while now, he kept his large hand roughly pressed over your mouth, limiting your airflow enough to have you struggle. Breathe through your nose, he advised you with a wicked smirk twisting his lip line but that was easier said than done. It wasn’t him who was nearly choking on his own tears and moans.

Your senses were hazed and eyes tightly shut, you couldn’t properly focus on the oxygen when he was just so harsh with the way his hips were thrusting into you, his pelvis clashing with your ass time after time, pushing you over the edge of insanity with so much ease it was just horrifying. If there was anything that you would never suspect Choso to do, that was it. You knew the death painting long enough to have a pretty solid opinion on him – he was calm, stoic even. Sometimes silly and very caring, but overall, he wasn’t giving off the vibe of I can and I will fuck you dumb kind of man. Damn, you didn’t even suspect him of really having any sexual drive to begin with, although that would be your mistake. He was, after all, half-human, but now, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was actually his curse side that made him so insatiable. So ruthless and dominant.

You gasped for air desperately when for a short second he loosened up the bruising grip he had on your face, only to take away your freedom of breathing once more. It was taunting, he basked in the way you tried to fill in your lungs and with almost psychotic satisfaction he took that away from you again. The mind-numbing, eye-watering pistons of his dick didn’t stop for a single moment as he persistently was making his way under your skin and into your soul. All you could see was blur of dark, night shades and red, so much red. Your red.

You got to your shared room late, after the unfortunate encounter with one very virulent curse that although easily exorcised, still left you with dozens of little slits and slashes across your body. Those little, bleeding creases in your skin were the reason for Choso immediately stopping whatever he was just doing and jumping to you, wanting to help, but instead of it, he for sure made the blood loss worse. He couldn’t help himself. You, covered in fresh crimson did something to him, and just like he was perfectly able to control and manipulate blood in and out of his body, now he couldn’t stop it from flowing down, straight to his cock. He wanted, no, he needed to touch you, to taste you, to just possess you, even if for a moment and when for god knows what reason you allowed him to do whatever he liked, he just lost it.

There was not an inch of your body that he wouldn’t caress. Your red covered his hands, his mouth and clothes, even those that at this point were already on the floor. There was a sting to your wounds, every time his tongue swiped over one of them your spine was electrocuted with an impulse of painful pleasure. Those impulses flooded your brain and then filled every cell inside your body with pure ecstasy.

Choso was experimental with you, he was observing and learning, soaking in your body’s reactions to whatever he was doing. He registered every shiver of you, every louder moan of satisfaction and every whimper of discomfort. Not a single jolt went unnoticed and some of your reactions he found absolutely addicting. Like the little squirm you were doing, the unconscious line of protection your skin had whenever he would run his cold as ice fingers along your spine. His internal temperature control really got in handy in making you lost in the sensation of him.

“Cho-so~ah,“ you whined quietly as he swiftly flipped you onto your back. Once back between your trembling thighs, he was immediately pushing his way back between your velvety walls, grazing over every sweet spot in you as he slipped in. There was a ring of creamy white at the base of his girth already formed, the testimony of how fucking good he was in just brainwashing you into nothing but mess. You came already, although you couldn’t tell how many times, and he also came at least once – an evidence of that gushing out of your hole every time he drilled into it.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He groaned lowly, leaning over you and wrapping his lips around one of the most bleeding slash you had – the one right above your collar bone. He sucked on in, savoring the sweet metallic that melted in his mouth, and it made you feel almost light-headed. He really made you feel like you’re floating and if not for the constant, harsh thrusting that grounded you, the heavy weight of his cock pumping your already oversensitive pussy in a pace that you could have sworn felt inhumane – yeah, if not for that, you might have actually lift above the bloody mess you did on the hotel couch.

“S-so good,” you mumbled absentmindedly and gasped loud as his ice cold, wet tongue flicked over your hardened nipple. It felt like he just put an ice cube over the bud and he played with it, twirling and twisting it all over your skin, making you shiver harshly underneath him, and even more wet although that you thought wasn’t possible. The slick sounds were filling the otherwise silent room, you could feel the pouring juices covering your thighs as he was dragging his hips back and forward, back and forward, fucking your way into oblivion.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Choso chuckled, something evil and menacing lingering underneath his labored tone. That little thing got your pussy squelching around him, your legs quivering as you felt your climax approaching – a second one, and he groaned deliciously, feeling the pressure of your walls trying to milk him. “Just a little bit more,” he almost ordered, his voice now bearing hints of desperation as he picked up the tempo.

Despite how fast he was moving, despite the force he was putting into those slams, they were all precisely hitting the right spots. Choso absorbed the pleasure that was overflowing your body, he was drinking it, basking in it. Teasing you endlessly with how cold he can make his body or how hot he can be a second later. It was a sensory hell for you, and heaven at the same time. You felt like burning – any time he’d make himself warmer, he left searing traces along your shapes and then, right after that he contrasted it with the ice cold, wet kisses and long licks, making you crumble below him.

“I can’t–,“ you tried. Everything inside you screamed to cum yet again, you couldn’t think at all at this point. It was just stars and white haze in front of your eyes, the room blended into one big splotch of nothing and only thing that mattered was the death painting inside you.

“I’m sure you can,” Kamo chuckled, allowing his long, slender fingers to wrap around your throat. With the firm, bruising squeeze he took the breathing privilege away from you and immediately, your hands landed on his veiny forearm, trying to force him to ease the hold, but he just smirked at your efforts. You looked so pretty below him, so gorgeous with your shaking legs around his hips, squeezing him from time to time, with your chest heaving and aching for air, your face stained with tears and your tits bouncing every time his hips slammed into yours. Not to mention all of the blood smeared over your delicate body. You were taking him so well, even though at first you swore he’s not gonna fit you, that he’s too big and you physically can’t take it. Now your pussy was sucking him in more and more, absolutely weeping around him, swallowing him to the very bottom. “I saw you in battle,” he applied even more pressure over your throat. “I know you can take much more than that.”

Something incoherent left your squeezed airways, a sound bearing no particular meaning and you could feel another load of hot tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, already gathering along your lash line. Your nails left red, long marks over Choso’s forearms, matching the ones that you already gave his back and shoulders before. Sharp jolts of seething pleasure were shooting through your center and spreading ecstatic hellfire over your entire body. Despite the cold touch of his fingers, you were burning alive, you could feel the flames overtaking your veins as euphoria was rushing through them.

Kamo’s grip was unforgiving, he was thriving in the way your entire form was tensing underneath his touch, he could almost hear it screaming for a break. The heavy sound of your heartbeat seemed like music to his ears, he couldn’t stop himself, not when your pussy took him with so much insatiable hunger.

He took his hand off your neck and once again, you gasped for air, filling your lungs desperately and as if the relief of being able to breathe reached down to your cunt, you could feel yourself being close again. The trembling of your thighs became more apparent and Choso groaned deeply, the sound half-airy, as he felt his dick being squeezed by your velvety walls and he had no intentions to stop it. If you wanted to milk him again, who he was to say no to it?

Putting all of his gathered knowledge to use, he reached down, pressing his thumb over your swollen clit, rubbing circles onto it and almost immediately, making you lose it. That climax somehow felt even more intense than every previous one; it overtook you in light speed, sending your mind into another dimension and if not for the absolute malfunction of your brain functions, you’d probably be worried if you’ll be able to come back from there.

“Look at me,” Choso growled and you had no idea when he leaned down onto you, trapping you between his strong arms with his face just a breath away from yours when you looked hazily into his dilated eyes. Your fingers found their way into his hair, brushing through his dark, long locks. “So beautiful,” he muttered, stealing kiss after kiss from your ajar lips.

Your back arched when he came, you could feel his dick flexing and throbbing inside of you as he was emptying his balls, spraying your velvety, oversensitive walls with his hot load, and he had a lot to give. He wasn’t even done and already he was spilling, his cum dropping down onto the couch, where a mixture of filth created a stain. There was so much mess all around you two, blood, sweat and tears, your juices and so much white Choso shot out.

He groaned into your lips, his pelvis moving slower, languidly fucking you through your highs. His mouth shifted to taste the salty residues from underneath your eyes when he finally stilled. The wet sounds that were bouncing off the walls for a while already now quieted down, making space for the melody of heavy breathes and soft, satisfied yet exhausted groans and whimpers.

“Let me get us cleaned up,” Choso murmured into your ear once his heartbeat steadied – much quicker than yours, and you gave him a nod of approval.

With a delicacy so different to how harshly he was treating you for the last, what felt like, hours, the death painting swooped you off the nasty leathery seats and carried into the bathroom. With a supporting grip over your waist, he slowly washed away all of the filth from your body and from his own as well, and you helped him as much as you could, despite your arms screaming from exhaustion. Touching him was addictive, you couldn’t pinpoint why were you so attracted to him so suddenly.

“You are so gorgeous,” he praised you softly, drying your skin gently with a towel. You felt much better without the sticky layer of dried blood and sweat covering you, all of your wounds already started to heal. When he was down, supporting himself on one of his knees and patting away the droplets of water from your thighs, you could finally take in his form. Strong, toned muscles stretching underneath the light layer of skin created a god-like statue. Choso’s figure was really to die for, with broad expanse of his shoulders and thin waist, very prominent abs and leading down to delicious thighs. All of him was impressive, it really was hard to believe he was half-curse, counting 150 years of age.

“You are gorgeous too,” you told him but he kept his gaze down suddenly shy to hear compliments and he brushed it off, with a soft shrug. It really seemed amusing now, that just few moments back he was ruthlessly pounding into you and now, he couldn’t even look you in the eyes when you praised him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he spoke, putting away the towel and swooping you once again into his arms. In a matter of few minutes, all the lights in the house were off and you were under the sheets in your bed, your head resting over the firm surface of Choso’s chest as his heartbeat was lulling you to sleep.

Before, you thought that day sucked – the little curse caused you more troubles than it should and even if you exorcised it, it still managed to put some cuts onto you. You got back home pissed, annoyed mostly by the way you created an opening for it to even land an attack on you. You were a high grade sorcerer for years now and yet, sometimes things like this surprised you, but in perspective… nothing surprised you more that day, than Choso did. If the sky suddenly turned green and the grass became purple, it would stun you less than what the death painting hid underneath his usually calm demeanor and after that, you were curious what else he had in his store.

You will check that later. You absolutely will.

[cryptidcircuswrites]

NOTHING BUT GHOSTS

!- really bad fic just not good, JOI (jack-off instructions), tim x brian, ghost/hallucination brian, angst, alcohol

In an old hotel, Tim's hand wrapped around a glass bottle.

Some shoddy liquor he'd stolen from a gas station as a treat to himself. He'd probably even call it celebration, if the thought didn't make his innards do flips.

Tim lifted his drink to his lips.

He had no home. He'd lived in his car for what, two, three years now? Time was a blur. Sometimes he had a job, most times he didn't. And he never had any friends. He couldn't bring himself to open up after the last time.

He’d loved Jay. Jay who was now dead. He’d loved Alex, who he’d killed, or killed some horrible variation he’d become.

He’d loved Brian most of all.

Brian, with his bright gap-toothed smile. Brian, with the way you always seemed to agree with whatever he wanted to do. Brian, who was so effortlessly hot and had Tim wrapped around his finger so easily.

His mind kept wandering, the emotional pain being blurred by the alcohol as he lost track of where or when he was.

“You should really put that down, man.”

Tim glanced over at Brian, who sat on the counter.

“Not good for you.”

Tim scoffed, but put it down anyway.

Brian slid off the counter, walking towards Tim. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong this time?”

“Why? So you can manipulate me and try to get me into that mask again?”

Brian sighs. He doesn’t deny it, though.

“You used me, jackass. You used me to get to Alex and now I’m a fucking murderer, and all I get from you is more manipulation. Do you ever think about-“

“Tim.” Brian’s voice is firm. “Unbutton your pants.”

It’s not a request. Tim knows that tone, he knows what it means. Hot prickles go from his chest to his face and his gut as he sets the bottle down and obeys.

“Sit up. I want you to watch what you’re doing to yourself.”

The headboard is cool against Tim’s back. His shirt is thin. He wishes he had money for new clothes, but not for long.

Brian has another command.

“Touch.”

Tim is eager to obey, the pain of betrayal eased by the voice of his first ever friend. Some small part of him wondered if they could still be called that, though he knew if history ever remembered them that would be their title.

Calloused stained hands rubbed over the rough fabric of Tim's boxers, cupping his half-hard dick as he tried to delude himself into believing the hands were soft and clean and Brian's.

"Good. You look so good like that, really. You're too stressed, you should let loose a little. It's okay to feel good, love, nobody would blame you," Brian coos. Soft, cold lips almost touch Tim's face. Instead of solid flesh, it's a slight pressure change and a silky residue.

Tim grabbed for the bottle and gulped again before continuing. His breath hitched as Brian nibbled at his neck, right over the artery where Tim had plunged his knife on the thing wearing Alex's skin.

He shook the thought away as he tipped his head back, letting Brian mouth at his throat.

"Pull it out for me, baby."

Tim was always good for Brian. He had been since they started fooling around in senior year of high school, always eager to go along with Brian's suggestions.

Tim shivered as he exposed his dick to the cool air. It twitched, in either protest or else anticipation as Tim waited for the go-ahead.

Brian nodded. Tim spit into his hand, tracing a finger from base to tip slowly before squeezing himself just below the head.

This was the one good thing about being unmedicated again— Tim could get an erection. He often found himself roughly chasing the endorphins of an orgasm to get through the day, never taking the time to actually enjoy it or think too hard about it.

Brian intended to correct that, at least for the night.

“Slower. Drag it out.”

Tim obeyed. He pulled back his foreskin, gently thumbing his tip, Brian’s words going straight to the heat pooling below his stomach. He bit back a whimper. Brian praised him, not-quite-kissing his scrunched face once more.

His breathing staggered and hitched as he slowly stroked himself up and down. He thumbed his tip, the precum mixing with drying saliva to make things easier.

Easy. With Brian things had always felt so easy. Growing up gay in Alabama of all places was so hard, but Brian made everything easy. Soft. Brian was soft and warm and Tim wanted that feeling just as much as he wanted to get off right about now, but Brian’s softness was tainted with a sick chill— some forgotten knowledge. Tim doesn’t think too hard, just chasing the pleasure Brian’s steering him towards.

He has to force himself to slow down some, his abdomen twitching and clenching as he fights to obey. Drag it out for me meant agonizing torture after so long of five-minute sessions focusing only on the end, and not the journey.

Brian was pleased, though. He looked pleased anyway, to Tim, when his tongue caressed his lover's bright red ear. A pathetic yelp stripped away what little dignity the man had left, and he finally allowed himself to disobey just a little.

He squeezed on the downstroke, tight heat building between his legs. He fought against it anyway, trying to be good for Brian. God, Tim hoped Brian would hold him after this. Whisper sweet nothings into his scalp, hold him, comfort him.

The idea of being held by someone else sent him over the edge almost instantly, milky white staining the sheets. His eyes screwed shut as his body jolted with the force of it all, ears ringing as he panted.

When he opened his eyes, there was no Brian. Because of course there wasn't--

Brian was dead. Alex was dead. Jay was dead.

And Tim was alone in a hotel room jacking off to nothing but ghosts.

[nintendont2502]

just saw ur caste dating discourse post and realized meulin would've been lambasted by all of those groups for getting w the 2 highest landdwelling castes. kankri would write her callout post. feferi would've been accused of coercing sollux to be w her etc etc

girl would be in the TRENCHES fighting off the waves of terminally online freaks kankri keeps sending her way,, someone save her

genuinely i dont think a single beta troll wouldve made it through the discourse unscathed LMAO

aradia? well clearly shes only with sollux because he could easily kill her w/ his psiionics (god help them if the grumblr mob ever finds out that he *did* technically do that one time)

tavros is held up as like the posterchild for why lowbloods and highbloods shouldnt be in quadrants even though he and vriska were uh. never in a quad together. does he try *telling* anyone that? probably not!

sollux? psiionics. threatening aradia into a quad. (also tbh getting into a quad with someone when youre a goldblood is lowkey problematic because what are they supposed to do after you're sent offplanet and helmed? its honestly really manipulative holding someones quad hostage only to leave them forever which is why all golds should take a vow of celibacy-) hes only making it worse by being an absolute dick to everyone involved and escalating shit so far that theres multiple attempts on his life and everyones *convinced* hes a serial manipulating asshole because lmao why would he tell those idiots theyre wrong

karkat? you mean that hemoanon freak thats probably just a highblood trying to pass himself off as a lower caste so he can manipulate lowbloods into his quads?

nepeta and equius would be torn APART - not only is he three castes higher than her, but hes also far physically stronger so clearly shes the weak defenseless victim here (they keep saying this even after she culls someone for it. nep im so sorry)

kanaya shouldnt even *be* in a quad since shes a jade and theyre meant to be sequestered (similar argument to golds where actually its really cruel and manipulative to be in a quad with someone when you know you two are going to be forced to be apart for sweeps - no they dont care that she left the caverns. she still shouldnt be doing that shit its a bad example for other jades smh)

terezis honestly the most divided because her relationships are either her and karkat (potential highblood, terezi might be victim *or* karkat is a lowblood and shes the one with power over him) or her and vriska (no one wants to know whats going on there). although tbh she is a lawyer which means she can get her quads tried and killed for whatever bullshit crime she can come up with if they try to leave :/ never date a cop lawyer folks

vriska. mind control. do i need to say more. every vriska relationship is toxic and awful and she wouldve been cancelled 50 times over if the ringleaders of her callout posts didnt mysteriously 'deactivate'

equius. too strong to date - how can you be in a quad with someone that not only has a shit ton of social power over you, but also could literally tear you apart if he wanted to. also lowkey problematic for making and fighting/kissing (??? its unclear online and no one wants to know) robots :/ like those are clearly stand ins for lowbloods that hes attacking/potentially fetishising and they literally have to do everything he says thats fucked up

gamzee. highblood. automatic oppressor. part of a niche religion - if you try to quad him you either have to convert (cultural (caste?) appropriation) or dont become part of the clurch (rude, disrespecting his beliefs). constant discourse about whether clowns can even consent to a quad because theyre presumably high all the time as part of their religious practices. constant discourse about how assuming clowns are high all the time as part of their religious practices is casteist as fuck.

eridan. somehow one of the least problematic trolls out of the group (which is saying a fucking LOT). only has quads with someone a caste higher than him (although that caste is fuschia. is he the victim here??). pursues lowbloods constantly though which is problematic as fuck (at least he doesnt kill them if they turn him down. the bar is on the fucking floor)

feferi. god forbid a woman do anything. pale with eridan? sure hes only a caste lower than her but also shes the literal fucking heiress - what was he gonna do, say no? he cant even hide in the ocean from her!! shes a seadweller too!! flushed with sollux? holy shit hes like 8 castes lower than her of fucking course he had to say yes! shes probably only dating him so she can helm him later anyway :/ really its problematic as shit for her to even have friendships with trolls of other castes because shes just using them without giving them the benefits of being in a quad (shes the literal heiress of course shes going to get whatever she wants from them) - but also if she stayed distant and didnt talk to anyone then shed be accused of being full of herself and thinking she was better than anyone else and #NotMyHeiress

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 3)

Platonic Whitebeard Crew & Reader Insert

Main post, First, previous

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior, manipulation, and drugging. If any of this make you uncomfortable, please do not read this and block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' and 'one piece yandere' as well as other variants if yandere content disturbs you as well.

Do not tolerate this behavior in real life from anyone. Especially drugging as it can easily go very wrong for either party involved, particularly in conjunction with invisible conditions and other medications.

Stay safe and have fun!

Word Count: 1,996

It was indeed just after dusk that the junior vessel pulled up alongside the Moby Dick with little fan fair.

Your palms were sweaty and your heart threatened to crack your ribs. Escape seemed less and less likely with every second—if it was ever possible to begin with. Nothing but placid ocean waves for miles around and you, royally screwed you, was about to board a Yonko vessel.

You faintly wondered if you were about to throw up.

A furry white bundle was pushed into your arms, tail thwacking your side vigorously as a wet nose buried into your neck with loving licks and whines.

Startled, you supported the uncooperative dog and jerked your head back, wide eyes looking at a grinning Fire Fist.

“You seemed to be getting cold feet! Thought Stefan could be… emotional support?” Fire Fist looked to Deuce for approval, which he received with a snort of laughter.

“Pft. Yeah, captain. It would be considered ‘emotional support’. Stefan seems sweet on you, but he’s fond of anyone that feeds him so…” Deuce shrugged playfully. “You can carry him up the ladder if you’d like?”

Anything but thinking about how screwed you were.

“S-Sure…” You agreed faintly, absently scratching behind the happy dog’s ear. At least someone was pleased with the situation.

The first problem came when you reached the ladder. While Stefan had calmed down considerably, he was a bit… hefty for carrying up a ladder with one arm. And he wasn’t exactly a ‘lap dog’ either. Fire Fist clambered up the ladder after laughing at your predicament, leaving you to seriously consider how to transport a squirmy bundle of affection.

There was a soft sigh behind you and suddenly you were grabbed firmly and lifted up with a yelp. A familiar sprout of blond hair coming up between your thighs as you were settled on broad shoulders. You scrambled to balance yourself without touching The Phoenix’s head or letting go of Stefan—who thought this all was suddenly quite fun.

“A-Ah?! Ahhh?!? A-aahhh?!?” You couldn’t hold back your panicked sounds as your feet tucked back around his ribs for purchase, finally stabilizing you. “Y-You didn’t need to do that!” Your face was hot as you grimaced, now clinging to Stefan as actual emotional support.

Despite your added weight, counterbalance, or even protests, The Phoenix scaled up the ladder like this was in no way unusual for him.

For the first time, you wondered if all of this was some elaborate psychological warfare to fuck with you. Because it was starting to feel unnervingly personal how easily they all went out of their way to put you at ease only to immediately shove you into an uncomfortable situation. And it hadn’t even been a day?!

To your relief, the main deck was remarkably clear for such a large crew. A few were clearly going elsewhere for a patrol around the ship on fire watch—how necessary was that with Fire Fist aboard anyway? More or less?—but there were a few that clearly waited for the arrival of Fire Fist and The Phoenix himself. Mainly Yonko Captain Whitebeard himself and several others.

“Oyaji! We brought a new member!” Fire Fist declared, bounding up to the large Yonko and hopping into his knee with a cheeky grin. Whitebeard indulgently pat Fire Fist’s back, brushing his thumb over the orange hat with a soft smile.

“Oh, did you now?” Stefan wriggled happily in your arms, eager to let loose but short of tossing the poor canine to the floor—an actual fucking crime thank you very much!—there wasn’t much you could do about it.

The Phoenix placed his hands on your shins and walked up with a slow, casual pace.

“Right here, Oyaji. They’re a bit… shy.”

Not… the words you’d use, personally.

Here against my will.

Held captive by sadistic pirates.

Wildly losing control of the situation.

Currently being stared down by the strongest man in the world.

He looked everything and nothing like his bounty poster. Whitebeard’s bounty poster looked intimidating and annoyed—one of which was still true right now. Face weathered by the sea and time with eyes that cut through your soul. You felt small in a way that couldn’t be waved off simply by him being twenty-some-odd-feet-tall. Your glasses on the edge of your nose as you struggled to not look away. You felt like you were being measured ruthlessly but with gentle hands.

Like a scared child outside their parent’s door past midnight asking for a glass of water because the shadows had started to grow long and thick under your bed.

In a heady mix of relief and horror, you felt as though he saw something he approved of. And possibly pitied in the same way you pity a puppy that fell into a cold puddle of mud. Like he was seconds away from picking you up and reassuring you that everything would be alright—and you would genuinely lose your shit if a fucking Yonko started coddling you after hours of too-familiar-pirates acting like you’re moving back home after graduating college.

This is the same man that the marines feared, actively planned patrols around if he happened to turn his head in a new direction without warning, and could go toe to toe with Garp the Fist. And last time he did—rumor had it—God’s Valley was wiped from the map.

You were quite happy to keep this terrifying man away from your family tree. Real or imaginary or adoptive. Any of them. Far far away.

Whitebeard beamed.

“Gurarararara~! Welcome aboard, my child! Who are you?” He asked kindly and not even his status could stop your grimace.

You did, however, have the sense to not respond ‘I’m fine, thanks’.

“E-Ensign…” You managed to stutter out your name after what was probably meant to be a reassuring squeeze on your legs from The Phoenix. “But this really isn’t necessary…” Stefan licked your cheek with a happy yap and you couldn’t help the soft smile.

“They’ve got a weird devil fruit, Oyaji!” Fire Fist spoke up, vibrating with excitement.

“Found them on the island while restocking and looking for Stefan. Their… partner broke their nose for trying to make a run for it. Apparently, they had orders to face Ace and make a break if anyone else showed up to see how they did. Their partner, that is. Some weak fire fruit, I think.” The Phoenix shrugged before patting your shin. “This one has a fruit that increases the power of other devil fruits around them.”

Whitebeard blinked and frowned.

“…And they weren’t at Marineford or Enies Lobby?” He sneered as he shook his head. “The grand line isn’t a safe place for those kinds of games. The minute Linlin heard of you, she’d hunt you down for your fruit, my child. It took several years to dissuade her from Marco.” He clicked his tongue with a frown as you paled.

This wasn’t exactly news to you.

There was a reason you’d only been stationed at small bases. Field assessments with a low risk of exposure before the marines were ready for… well, whatever their plan for you was.

“That’s what I said!” Fire Fist declared, throwing up his hands in frustration. “At least Gramps would have been able to train them up! Look at ‘em! Weak!” He threw an apologetic smile your way and you shook your head.

“N-No, that’s fair. I’m still a new recruit. A-And I don’t think they every planned on me running into a Yonko, no offense.” You admitted. “I-I don’t know a lot about my fruit still, so there could be side effects…” You trailed off, nearly groaning as you realized you had started to ramble about things that they didn’t need to know. Though given how freely they touched you, they were bound to find out sooner or later.

You weren’t their friend.

You were a marine!

A captive marine!

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here now, my child. We’re pretty adept at handling the unexpected.” Whitebeard winked with a fond smile that made you flush.

“Enough about all that! I think it’s time we got them settled in, right Marco?” A man spoke up suddenly from the stairway into the hull. Fourth division commander, if you recall correctly. ‘Twin-Blade Thatch’. He held up a steaming mug with an easy grin. “If you’ll stop hogging our new sibling, that is!”

Oh good. Another Yonko pirate acting like you’re related.

The Phoenix drummed his fingers on your shins for a moment before picking you up again and setting you down. Now free to safely do so, you set Stefan down as well, the dog quickly zipping off in energetic but lopsided circles as he eventually ran to his master. Whitebeard laughed, reaching down to playfully bat at Stefan affectionately.

It was touching despite the stressful situation you’ve found yourself in. Not that you had time to think about it as a hot mug was gently pushed into your hands now that they were canine-free.

Startled, you looked up at Twin-Blade.

“Ah? Thanks?” You looked down at the mug, nose twitching as you nearly lost your glasses. It smelled like herbal tea. A heavy hand slammed into your shoulder just gently enough to not knock you over as he laughed.

“I raced to make it when I got word that you were coming! Big day so far, huh? Hope you don’t mind herbal tea. It’s all I could make on short notice.” Twin-Blade announced.

“You didn’t have to.” You protested softly. “I-It’s not like I’ve actually joined--!” he pushed the mug up to your lips, encouraging you to drink up as he steered you into the hull with enough force that it wasn’t up for debate.

“None of that now! We can talk about it later. It’s getting pretty late, you know.” Twin-Blade winked as he expertly guided you down the stairs. Reluctantly, you took a sip. It was good, though you didn’t know what kind of herbal tea it was. A little sweet with a bitter aftertaste, the hot drink actually did kind of soothe your nerves. “You just worry about settling in and we’ll handle the rest! Right, Marco?” He looked behind you, absently lifting up your hands again to encourage you to drink more.

The Phoenix followed at a sedate pace, eyes heavy and amused.

“Did you even set up a room?” He asked, Twin-Blade gasping in mock outrage.

“Of course I did! It’s even got a little bathroom attached—just a toilet though, showers are communal except for commanders and in the med bay.” He amended quickly. Your skin felt pleasantly warm and heavy as the two bantered.

The feeling, though somewhat understandably, was definitely not natural. You were just wound up tighter than a spring, and now you had to concentrate to not trip over your own feet?

The halls blurred together as you walked in a daze, firm hands and the hot mug your only real grounding influence.

A door settled into focus before you though it seemed to waver somewhat. Or maybe you were wavering? Heavy and thick wood with a sturdy lock on the outside.

Words filtered in as it opened, though the darkness within was quick to greet you—eat you whole.

“—overboard with the tea, Thatch.” You felt like you were tumbling, gentle hands keeping you aloft as the mug was taken from your numb fingertips. “Look at them, yoi! They’re dead on their feet!”

There was a nervous chuckle in your ear as you were lifted up against a warm surface. Your feet cold suddenly as soft fabric wrapped around you, cradling you gently after a truly exhausting day.

“Eheh, I guess they really needed the rest?”

The last thing you registered was something brushing your nose and a frustrated sigh.

Total darkness taking you in with a soft click of a metal lock.

[miscelliteeous]

Chaz Thurman Headcanons

Wrote a bit for the shark boy because he needs more love. Covers three topics: Safe for work, "Chaz Surviving", and not worksafe.

Under the cut, some are not worksafe! Minors do not interact!

SFW-

Loves junk food and his go-to meal is the greasiest double cheeseburger he can find.

Pretty bad at cooking, he gets distracted easily, but he’s good at food prep and would work well cooking with someone.

Favorite toppings on a pizza? He’s a meat lover, but he’ll try anything. Swears by anchovies.

Usually pretty casual, but he can turn on the charm when he wants.

He sometimes has a way of knowing what you want even before you do. This can make him pretty manipulative at times, but usually for little things.

He can dance! Not the best with more formal styles but pretty great at improvising or fast dancing.

Chaz can keep his dirty thoughts to himself and tone himself down, but he chooses not to, he has more fun being himself and wouldn’t want to change that.

He’s not going to pay for the date, and will choose to dine and dash over getting the bill.

Absolutely the type to propose with a Ringpop or onion ring.

He can spell decently if he puts the time and effort into it, but when he’s writing quickly all spelling rules go out the window.

Talks his head off during movies, he has opinions that he feels need to be heard, usually on which character he wants to bone the most.

Post-Injury/Near Death (aka: here’s how he could be saved)-

Crimson really needs the money, and when you see the neighborhood mafia is about to kill a handsome and very pathetic guy, you intervene in a way that just makes sense in Greed: by bribing them to let him go. You make him an offer he can't refuse.

Of course, he doesn’t escape unharmed, he gets pretty fucked up actually, and in fact has to spend a good while in the hospital.

Doesn’t like to feel confined to one place, which makes his recovery a lot harder. He has to relearn a lot and get used to living with a prosthetic jaw and teeth.

Drives Chaz absolutely nuts that he can’t talk for a good while, but he gets very good at texting and writing quickly, even if his spelling remains not that great.

Falls hard and fast for the person that paid his way to freedom and is keeping him company in the hospital. If you tell him you’ll let him stay at your place, he’d probably want to marry you right then and there.

Chaz is mostly a Greed boy, but he’d be pretty accepting of moving to a different ring after all that, anything to put some distance between him and the mob.

Though his main driving goal is sex, he does have a romantic side to him, and after his near death experience he resolves to do better with the people he cares about and not go breaking hearts.

Not Worksafe-

Two dicks! Rarely gets to penetrate with them both, but he’s just fine with intercrural sex as well. He's not lying about them being big either.

They’re very, very slightly prehensile. Can’t grab anything but there is more movement control than an imp, hellhound, or other species would have.

Absolutely kills it at foreplay, especially oral, but unfortunately doesn’t engage in it as often as he probably should.

Thinks because he has a big dick that he doesn’t need any sort of technique other than just “pound away”.

That being said, Chaz would be more than happy for you to tie him down and ‘teach’ him better.

He cannot and will not shut up during sex at all, very vocal and also difficult to gag, you’d need a muzzle. Even then, he’d still be making a lot of noise.

Ready to go anytime, anywhere. The type to pull you into the most secluded area of a building for a quickie.

Has no interest in being a dad, so he’s always got condoms with him no matter where he goes, though you’ll have to be in charge of making sure they’re not expired.

Very poor aftercare, the type of guy to just flop over and fall asleep. This unfortunately would be a lot harder to fix than his “jam it in” style.

Secret spot that he loves to have touched? He’s a sucker for belly rubs but you’d have to find that out on your own.

[jemmo]

i watched only friends ep 3 for the third time and i am stuck on nick saying the line “no one dares hurt me”. bc in context it’s nothing, and he says it with this slight smile that’s still a little disappointed but just trying to play it off and you could just see it for what it is, just him trying to act fine that boston is abandoning him or whatever. but where’s the fun in seeing things at face value. bc this is post him seeing the pictures and seeing and finding out who top is and putting the wiretrap in boston’s car and seeing boston talking to top (i don’t think it’s clear whether he actually hears what they’re saying about ray and mew and meeting up later and sticks around to see what happens, or is just generally sus of boston and hangs around bc he’s just sus and so happens to see them). this is post this constituted story he has that was sparked by that tweet about liking someone else and that’s why you can’t become something more. he thinks top is that person (and he’s kinda right), that boston likes top more than him, despite boston constantly calling him his favourite. you can see the pieces falling into place, that while boston’s behaviour serves to keep himself in control and have nick on this leash of always being there and keeping him interested with the promise of more that will go nowhere, for nick, it doesn’t just hurt him in these sad ways that keep him dependent on boston to feel good about himself and thinking he has this special relationship when he doesn’t. it also hurts him in ways that boston wouldn’t have intended, ways that turn nick into someone dangerous, someone that can be boston’s downfall. bc now he looks at top not just with sadness and envy, but with anger and disgust, bc who is this person?? what right do they have to be the person boston likes more than me?? when im the one he goes to all the time, when i have this connection, when our relationship is progressing?? bc the feeling of comparing himself to top, and his inadequate that makes him feel, bc of course he isn’t enough, of course he’s not better than top, of course boston would like him more, that can so easily turn and become something dangerous, bc you lash out at other people instead of lashing out at yourself. it’s that thing of i do everything, so why have i not earned your love?? that’s what he says in the trailer to boston; “i just want you to love only me”. it all comes together to make me think nick is gonna be the one that really starts shit. that idk, either through just telling people or maybe that wiretrap can record what happened, he’s gonna be the reason the whole mess starts to come out. and idk if he’s gonna just let it out and let boston get shit for it as a way to get back at him for hurting him, bc bc of his feelings, bc of that line in the trailer, bc i think he still depends on boston’s affection and validation, i think it’s more gonna be a matter of him doing it to push top and boston apart, so that when it all falls apart, the end of it all he can say to boston i did it all bc i love you, bc top doesn’t deserve you, bc i want to be the only person you love.

and you can see how it would happen, when it all comes out and ray and mew clarify that there’s nothing between them and everyone gets mad at boston for fabricating these stories to manipulate people, who do you think is gonna be the most mad?? top. bc he’s the one being messed with, his relationship with mew, and it’s all just ultimately bc boston wants to have sex with him. the man is ruining his relationship just for a fuck, and at this point we don’t know if there are any actual feelings, or if it’s just so that boston can feel superior and in control still. the whole point is that bad behaviour yields bad behaviour. boston is a dick, but he also doesn’t know that he’s feeding in to his own downfall. and nick is being manipulated and taken advantage of, and that’s horrid and sad, but he’s also not this helpless victim. no, i very much believe he intends to bite back just as hard as he’s been bitten. and it still hurts bc it’s such a realistically human bad relationship, the person that lacks self worth and so over invests in a relationship to give them that worth back, and the person that doesn’t want commitment but also doesn’t want to lose control, and so they dangle promises they’ll never keep like bait to keep someone trapped. and it hurts bc the ways nick will turn and start acting out aren’t just his fault, bc boston played into it and made him believe, only for it to be broken. and this is not victim blaming, but you also can’t baby nick and make out he’s harmless, helpless, defenceless. you can’t not see the grey in him. bc he’s expecting boston to be something he’s not, and so you can’t say it’s fine when he gets mad that boston isn’t that thing he wants him to be. you can’t excuse him being overly invasive of a private space like he has ownership over every part of boston and his life. yes i get it, boston plays into it, but at some point we’ve got to stop using that as an excuse, bc the behaviour is still bad, and i feel like it’s only gonna get worse. im calling it, nick is gonna turn into a mess that boston created and become something he can’t control, and it’s gonna all come back around and destroy him. bc it’s not just a matter of messing with the wrong person, it’s the fact that boston doesn’t think anyone can mess with him back, and he doesn’t realise just how catastrophic the consequences of his actions are gonna be.

[peachymilkandcream]

Levi making her cum with nothing but just nipple play please.

Levi x Evelyn -> Your Touch is All I Need

(A/N: You Anons have been hitting it out of the part recently. I am here for the most kinky and defiled shit you guys can come up with! [Also this is going to be a bit shorter than normal :P])

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, somnophilia, etc.

=============================================

The lingering thoughts of the previous night still plagued Levi. All he could think of was how she squirmed under any and all touch from him. It didn't matter if it was his hands, dick or tongue she always came undone for him. Part of him wanted to prove that, making her fall apart despite herself by not even using his dick. As he glanced over at her he felt his erection growing.

==============================================

That night he had waited until she fell asleep, something about pleasuring her in her dreams turned him on. He always made sure she slept naked, taking her clothes from her so she would be ready for him in case he felt the need for her in the middle of the night. He stifled a chuckle, remembering the days when she would search for hours to find anything to cover herself, now she just gave up and went to bed. She was becoming so submissive.

He crept under the covers, easily finding her body in the dark. She slept facing him on her side, giving him perfect access to her chest. His fingers gently traced over her nipples, encouraging them to pop out. His touch this time was gentle, making sure he didn't wake her up from stimulation.

When they became hard he held her breasts in his hands and traced over them, making circles and flicking each. She murmured soft whimpers in her sleep, making him wonder if he was entering her wet dreams. The thought made him restrain a growl in his throat, he wanted nothing more than to ease his throbbing erection, but he wanted to prove a point to himself.

He bent his head and blew hot air onto them, before gently flicking his tongue over the points. The first initial taste always came back surprisingly sweet which melted into a more coppery flavour after. His soft licks turned into pulling the nipple with his lips, it amused him to see them bounce after he released each one.

The soft rolling as he sucked on them was comforting as he was enveloped by their softness. He would never admit it to her but moments like these were comforting. It was relaxing in a way to be like this with her, a break from the violence and strife of the day to day. This quiet stillness is what he craved, what he wanted when he first married her. The rough and painful sex was enjoyable, and he'd take that over being vanilla with her any day. But it was this domestic side he wanted more. To have one constant in his life that wouldn't change. But then again fucking her in the most degrading and inhumane ways possible was also a huge advantage.

Her whimpers had become louder, and by the way she pressed her thighs together in her sleep confirmed he was getting to her. She seemed to respond the best when he was rough so he grabbed her harder, pulled her nipples with more force, biting down to make them swell. All of her he enjoyed, but her breasts were becoming his favourite part by far. Seeing how he could reduce her to a pathetic puddle of pleasure boosted his ego ten times over. The way her breathing became rapid and her body tensed up, he knew, she was at her breaking point, waiting for him to give her the final push into ecstasy.

Evelyn was jolted out of a sound sleep when waves of pleasure washed over her violently. It was so much all at once she was left reeling for a moment once she came back down, wondering what had caused it. She blushed as she remembered the dream, Levi laying her down and having his way with her, she didn't think a dream was enough to make her cum...was it? As she looked over at Levi he was already awake and grinning like a devil.

"So my love. Sleep well?"

Something about that grin made her shiver and have a hard time falling back to sleep.

[justagalwhowrites]

Bestie! They are setting each other up for so much heartache! Scratch that. The dates are still just a thought, and the heartache is already there even if they are trying to convince themselves they can look at the other date another person and fall in love with them. Damn! Probably, it has been there since high school, and they have just been distracted by their lives. They are so in denial! Their interactions between them and Sarah (That are so fun, sweet, cute, and so genuine to read.) had me thinking they were acting like an old married couple with a kid (Come on! How they share the bed and cuddle so easily is a big sign! Like in bold letters and neon lights!), and then, the lady at the shelter just assumed they were married! I’m not in the wrong here, lol! Rants aside, I’m so hooked on them and this sweet angst you’re writing. I love it! Their actions, both during their teenage years and now, feel so real, and what people do as much as it drives me crazy. It’s one of the things that make it so special.

I felt Brad (I’m siding with Joel on my opinion of him, so I’ll only call him that in support.) so damn slimy! Who gives their personal phone number to a student?! And the idea he had her picture! It’s so uggrrr! And Goldie was so vulnerable! It was a bad mix for her and a damn perfect one for him. Is it too soon to ask about the next one? Lol! I'm kidding. Thanks for the lovely chapter! Lots of love! I hope you had a great weekend!❤️❤️❤️

PS: Sarah getting her cat when she was only helping Goldie get hers was precious!

Ohhhh bestie, this fic is heartache: the story, I swear!

The LONGING. Like that's the theme here lol they're so in denial and are so busy seeking the safety of their friendship that they can't see what lies JUST beyond it, ready and waiting for them! But everyone else can see it, even strangers. I'm so glad their actions feel real! I swear I'm not TRYING to draw it out. They're both still so fragile about what their relationship is but they're also so codependent on it. I think both of them hurt for a long time because of the loss of it and now that it's back, losing it AGAIN would be so painful that they're doing everything they can to hold onto it.

And yeahhh FUCKING BRAD. He was such a dick, from the get go he was such a dick. He had her picture from her portfolio, recognized her brilliance and vulnerability and he wanted it all for himself. He knew he could manipulate her and he was right - for a while. But, eventually, Goldie was Goldie and she became too much for him to handle.

And AHHH Sarah and her cat! Joel is such a sucker for his baby girl, he'll give her whatever she wants, I love them so much.

Thank you for reading and your lovely ask, bestie!!! I'm so happy you're enjoying the ride!!

Love you!!!