#thank you for sending me this even if it made me cry lol

[rosicheeks]

hey, I hope you know it’s all gonna work out. you have a lot more time than you think to figure things out, and as rough as things are they can’t stay that way forever. so… keep it up, rosie. i’m still always rooting for you. and, a little selfishly, i want nothing more than to hold you close and remind you over and over that you’re a wonderful person and it’ll be okay. i think we’d both sleep a little easier like that, but plane tickets are expensive, so sending this message across however many hundreds of miles will have to do. regardless, i hope this makes you smile, just a little, because you deserve a little extra happiness. have a good night, hon 💖 take care, and get some rest if you can. you deserve it 💗💖💗💖

-🌸 (got sleepy and sappy again)

[dollfacefantasy]

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now. 

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time. 

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like -  you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout. 

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that. 

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙baby fever | GR63˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: george russell x wolff!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: jus insanely fluffy, some sexual innuendo

summary: in which your boyfriend becoming an uncle sends your hormones into overdrive

a/n: idk who the baby is irl btw HAHAH jus guessing & im too lazy to find out doing whatever i want for the plot sooo jus allow it

request!!!: could i request something with george russell dating wolff!reader? anything cute and fluffy tbh

my masterlist

fc: various brunette girls on pinterest

instagram ->

ynwolff

liked by georgerussell63, lilymhe, and others

ynwolff what i've been up to

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user1 "i have a crush on him" LOL same girl same

user2 omg yay a y/n post who cheered

user3 so aesthetic

lilymhe miss you!

liked by ynwolff

user4 y/n being a simp for george is jus so real

user5 hahah i bet toto loves it

user6 do u think she made that 5th pic

user7 oh 100% she did

user8 biggest gr63 simp on planet earth

susie_wolff the first picture is blurry, y/n

ynwolff i know lol

susie_wolff oh interesting choice

ynwolff 🤨

user9 LOL

georgerussell63 i have an even bigger crush on you x

ynwolff riiiight 🤨

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

georgerussell63

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georgerussell63 ☀️

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user15 y/n is gonna love this

user16 this is so romantic

user17 vacation george >>>>>>

user18 dog, gf, baby? he's somehow got it all

susie_wolff such lovely pictures

georgerussell63 only because y/n is in them!

user19 number 1 y/n simp goes to.....

user20 me tbh

ynwolff delete this. a lot of people are crying

georgerussell63 you okay?

ynwolff no you know how i feel about this

user21 LOLLL

user22 "i need him to impregnate me stat"

ynwolff dont remind me of this

georgerussell63 😂 no comment

user23 oh y/n how we love you

user24 y/n best & most realest wag ever

user25 y/n is so lucky

messages ->

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

ynwolff

liked by susie_wolff, yourbff, and others

ynwolff daddy

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user30 hahahahahahahahahahahaha

user31 the caption 😭

user32 she's so real oh my god

user33 hope toto doesn't know about all this 😂

liked by susie_wolff, georgerussell63

user34 HAHA Y/N STOP

user35 "daddy" 😭 what hahahaha

georgerussell63 behave

ynwolff 😇

yourbff Y/N

ynwolf 🥹

yourbff ur gonna get in trouble

susie_wolff i wont be showing your dad this

ynwolff i have no regrets

alex_albon the media training is working then?

ynwolff for sure!

user36 LOLLL alex

messages ->

twitter ->

instagram ->

georgerussell63

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georgerussell63 dont worry everyone she's alive and told me to tell you that she meant what she said ....

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user38 oh thank god

user39 our girl is back

user40 one of us always

alex_albon george all of your posts are just y/n fan pages

ynwolff as it should be tbh

georgerussell63 yea & what about it

lilymhe you should give it a go alex

user41 LOLLLLLL

user42 the selfie w toto hahahahaha

user43 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris has y/n ever considered a private account?

georgerussell63 now where's the fun in that?

ynwolff wait why does he have a point

user44 LOL

user45 nooo y/n

ynwolff SHUSHHHHH

ynwolff my dad hates you

ynwolff i dont though

THE END 🩵

[spncvr]

HIII I kinda suck at writing so maybe you could take my idea and use your amazing writing skills and make something of it? (Only if you want ofc!!) hear me out yk how Spencer rambles about random facts and everything at the bau imagine if he had a partner (was a profiler as well) and that knew a lot about musics or movies and would ramble about it to him?

Ignore this if it sounds stupid 😭

rambles | s. reid

summary: you talk a lot, spencer doesn't mind.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: okay so idk if this counts as gn!reader?? but reader wears a dress lol. drinking, and again my terrible english,, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: hey beautiful!! this deffo does not sound stupid i had fun writing it but this is so bad im sorry i didn't do u justice *crying emoji* also im so sorry this took me forever to finish LMAOOO

masterlist

YOU CAN FEEL it.

In your spine, in your ears. The song’s quiet but it had you in its grip, tight and firm—music’s always been like that to you. It didn’t matter if it was Hendrix, Queen or even Chopin; it has always been the one thing to make you stop dead at your feet. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put your finger on. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could possibly describe how it made you feel. Perhaps, you think humorously, you ought to learn another language, or two. 

You’re wearing this dress. This sweet, white silk thing that sweeps against your knees each time you take a step. The taste of expensive wine sits against your lips, lingering. The glass rests idly around your hand and your grip is careful. Expensive red wine and a cheap dress don't usually mix well together. 

“You okay?” 

You smile, teeth and all. Spencer who’s found his place next to you, furrows his eyebrows worry painted against his soft features. He looks tired. But he’s here, with the rest of the team; he always is.

“Fine,” you say, blasé. “You, Dr. Reid?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, “Yeah, fine.” then, “nice dress.” It’s a small whisper. 

You brush your tongue against the wine on your lips. The comment catches you off guard—especially when he’s dressed like this and looks at you like that. So, all that leaves your wine-stained lips is a small: “Oh.” then, because you remember your manners you say, “Thank you.”

The song changes, and Spencer smiles, “The songs—” he says “they’re nice.”

“I—” You stop yourself from rambling because really, they’re more than nice. It’s Elle Fitzgerald. She’s—Her voice, her instrument is clear as a bell, with diction that’s almost impossible to misunderstand. Her rhythm is— well it’s, you can set her as the metronome for her own band. Which, well, isn’t exactly easy to do. The way she’s able to scoop and bend her pitches with such precision is, beyond, nice. So the song, really it’s, more than nice, it’s a masterpiece it’s—

“Uh, yeah, s’nice.” you pause, “More than nice, really.”

Spencer smiles, amused, “More than nice?” he echoes.

You clear your throat, “It— yeah. I mean, it’s Fitzgerald, you know…”

“I don’t know,” he says simply.

Figures, you think. “No, yeah. She’s, like, got this tone in her voice, you know? And it’s like she’s the one leading the band— with the rhythm, I mean. As in like, instead of the drummer, which isn’t exactly easy to do. You know, actually, some people say she — she’s got the voice of an angel. Or something along the lines; can’t really remember and—” you pause, slightly embarrassed at how much you’ve been talking.

“Er, sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. The edge of your shoes had suddenly become increasingly interesting. “didn’t mean to go on a tangent.”

Spencer kisses his teeth, and you look up to find him grinning. “No, uh,” he scratches the edge of his eyebrow. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about something you like.” He seems to think about his next words as he brushes his hand against your arm. It sends a shiver that lingers longer than the touch itself. Spencer Reid could be so cruel sometimes. 

“I love listening to you talk.”

Your dress ends up wine-stained, anyway.

as usual my inbox is always open for requests (or just to talk lol) but it will take 192374 years to actually finish it,, reblogs are soo appreciated !! (u guys r always so kind idk why im asking for them) so is feedback btw!! (despretely in need of some)

[ponderingmoonlight]

After your answer I feel more confident🥰Request about Nanami. He survived Shibuya, but suffered burns to his left side and eye. Nanami began to develop a complex and hide behind a layer of clothing. He thinks his girlfriend deserves better. But she thinks differently and is still ready to give him love🥺I saw such a fic once, but your hands will make this idea much better, I know

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reaching out and that absolutely adorable request! Please let me know what you think, I hope you'll like it. Don't hesitate to reach out again🤍

Nanami hiding his scars from his girlfriend after surviving Shibuya

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: basically the request above lol

Warnings: if you need some comfort this one's for you, so much fluff I'm gonna faint

Tags: @hellkaiserinphoenix @polarbvnny @obeythebutler

It was a ride on razor’s edge. Yes, the Shibuya incident turned your life upside down. The countless injuries, Gojo being sealed, so many deaths.

And the love of your life almost losing his very own life through the hands of curses.

“Where is he, Megumi?”

“(y/n)…”

Your eyes filled with tears, that unwell feeling in your guts proved itself right all over again. You knew things weren’t going right when your boyfriend stopped replying. But that…Seeing Maki and that old man like that…

That was so much worse that you thought.

“Where. Is. He.”, you hissed through gritted teeth, the boy in front of you almost drowning in his own sweat.

“He’s back at Jujutsu High. When I last saw him…Things weren’t going well for Nanami…I…I don’t know if he’s still alive…”

You felt like fainting, throwing up, beating everything and everyone, crying in the corner. How? How did this happen? Your husband, a grade 1 sorcerer, so skilled that his sheer presence sends shivers down the spine of his opponents…Your fucking boyfriend.

On the brick of death?

Yes, it was a true blessing that he barely made it. Since that fateful day, you were on his side night in night out, talking him through the silence, holding his hand while Shoko changed his bandages. Until eventually, he was able to return back home. Back to your shared apartment, back into your normal everyday life.

But it was far away from being like it was before Shibuya. No, something inside Kento changed so drastically that you sometimes feel like you don’t know him anymore.

“Hey sweetheart”, he greets you softly, arms embracing you in a tight hug.

“Good morning”, you mumble, stretching out your longing arms to feel him a little closer.

Just before your hands are able to hold onto his biceps, he turns away again and leaves you alone in the bed. You stare at his covered back, sadness washing over you like a wave. Silently he stands up, busying himself with his wardrobe while all you can do is watch him closely in an desperate attempt to stop yourself from crying.

You have no idea when was the last time since you saw your boyfriend in a t-shirt, let alone shirtless. Since his burns aren’t covered in bandages anymore and his skin seems to be entirely healed into a scar, he hides his body from your hungry gaze very well. But why? This has to come to an end, right here and now.

You lift yourself off the bed, hugging his much larger frame from behind. God, it feels so good to press your head against his tight muscles, his delicious taste making you feel whole again.

It was hard to bear, the thought of losing him. Even days after he got burned to severely, Shoko wasn’t entirely sure if he’ll be able to make it. It became obvious that if he’ll survive, he will have to live with his left side covered in scare tissue for the rest of his life. And while your love for him and his body grew only stronger, you feel like this doesn’t apply to him. Yes, something inside you tells you that his change in behaviour might have something to do with that.

Why does he wear long-sleeved shirts all the time, while does he not allow you to see and feel his naked skin anymore, why does he seem to always turn away the left side of his face from you? It truly breaks your heart, knowing that he seems to have lost his self-confidence after surviving such a traumatic incident.

“Don’t turn away from me, love.”

Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, silently begging him to stay this one time, to allow your touch after months of turning you down.

“(y/n)”, he protests, body already on its way to shield itself from your longing hands.

“Why hiding from me when all I see is you?”, you question, hands intertwining with his.

“I’m not good enough for you.”

Softly, he pushes you away, walking into the living room while you try to process his words. Him, not good enough for you?

“Why would you even suggest something like that? Kento, please stop.”

Out of instinct you go after him, mind racing in thoughts. What is all of this about?

“You are such a stunning woman, your whole life is still ahead of you. Why waste your time with a scarred man like me? I have nothing to give you, (y/n). Not even beauty.”

You can’t believe your ears, mouth snapping open in pure shock.

“You have to be joking”, you breathe out, head shaking vehemently.

This is wrong in so many ways, almost an insult against humanity. Why would he say something so ridiculous?

“Look at me, (y/n)”, he blurts out.

With a swift motion he takes off his blue shirt, revealing the huge scar that covers the left side of his upper body entirely. His face darts towards you, completely twisted in agony.

“Why would a woman like you want a man like me? I don’t deserve your beauty, (y/n).”

“Stop it. Right now”, you reply so harshly that his mouth shuts in an instant.

With fast steps you cross the room, coming to a stand in front of his gorgeous body.

“This is the body of the man I love, of a man that fought hard in order to save countless people’s life. This is the body of the man I thought I’ve lost forever, the body of a man who always puts the well-being of others above his own. You, Kento Nanami, are the man I love. Even if you lost all your limbs, if you could no longer speak or see. Damn, even if you didn’t remember me, I would always choose you. Because you are the man who stole my heart entirely. These scars tell the story of what a brave man you are, what you survived despite everything spoke against it. I love every inch of your skin, no matter how scarred or wrecked.”

Your fingertips wander over his uninjured skin.

“From the part that I’ve touched so often…”

Slowly, you caress the scarred tissue on his right side, brushing over his shoulder, collarbone and buff chest while never taking your eyes off him.

“…to the part I have yet to discover.”

“Look at me, I am a crippled man. I look like someone out of a horror movie-“

“You look like a hero to me”, you interrupt him immediately.

It’s hard to keep your composure when the man you love more than anything else in this world stands in front of you with his face twisted in agony. God, if he only knew how beautiful he is, how you feel even closer to him since the Shibuya incident. Why isn’t he able to see himself through your eyes, why does he have to suffer even after surviving his burns?

“Why can’t you understand that you’re all that I want?”

Your voice cracks, tears now streaming down your face. The sheer thought of losing him alone makes you die from the inside. No other man will ever be able to replace him. Why would you leave Kento anyway? He still looks absolutely irresistible to your hungry gaze, the way his tight muscles flex underneath his shirts making your knees go weak just like always. And that scars just add to your affection towards him.

“Please, don’t hide from me. Let me love you with your scars and everything else. In my eyes, you will always be the man I fell in love with.”

And for the first time since knowing him, you the grown man in front of you break down in tears. His arms wrap around you hungrily, pressing you against his own body as if you’re air and he can’t breathe. Yes, you are the light to his darkness, the sun after rain. What would he do without you? Where would he be without you by his side? Through all these hellish weeks you stood with him, making sure he’s feeling well. Will he ever be able to thank you enough for that? Never.

“I love you more than words can say”, he breathes against your outer ear.

“God, how much I love you, (y/n)…”

“Please believe me when I say that I love you just the way you are, Kento. You will always be enough for me. A few scars won’t change that.”

His eyes lock with yours and there is no doubt that you are telling the truth. Yes, you really do love him the way he is. Even if his skin is scarred through the hands of fire, even if he’ll never look like the man you’ve met first. In the glimmer of your eyes he will always be Kento Nanami.

“So you’ll stay with me even though I look like this?”

You wrap your arms around him again, your head laying against his scarred chest. Oh, how much you missed the feeling of being skin to skin with him, how much your hungry gaze longed for him all bare.

“I’d say I even love you a little more since Shibuya”, you reply.

Gently, you cup his face with your hands. Yes, a few scars here and there won’t change the beauty you see within the man in front of you.

“You are my everything, (y/n).”

His lips brush against yours, arms caging you against his body.

God, how much you love that man. More than the entire earth.

[acid-ixx]

Hi hi I made more fan art hehe

Neglected y/n and non neglected y/n

(They're both born male but they go by any pronouns , they both got their lashes from their mom lol)

— masterlist ! ; brutus fic

I'M CRYING this was buried in my askbox, i feel so bad 😭 I ABSOLUTELY LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS! thank you so much for creating a masterpiece of an illustration.

love the opposing sides where the other one is spoiled to death with fancy clothes whilst the other prefers a more reserved style, bleak colors with only the white streaks as the brightest part about them. the white highlights in the villain mc's hair is so reminiscent of jason todd (and a symbolism of death and rebirth, stunning, 10/10, give me more!)

the softer curls on the right side, whilst spikier, more shaggy hair on the left. the details are insane i'm absolutely crying 😭 also! i love to hc the villain reader as a mentee of gotham's famous sirens (poison ivy, catwoman, and harley quinn), or was once a sidekick to at least two or more of batman's villain gallery. the possibilities are endless.

and the curve of the eyes, the lackluster shine on the other, alongside even the sheer difference between preference of jewelry, piercings on the other whilst the non-neglected side retains expensive earrings... something i know you have put so much thought and love into!

you don't know it, but you pretty much got an almost accurate presentation of how i see the reader's mother on the non-neglected side!

also, the perfect representation of both sides of gotham... the rich, glorified side that speaks of poise, spoiled upper-classes and the well-known underside of it which tells stories of a history criminal activity, hell on earth. everything fits so well, i swear.

thank you so much for sending this in, i love this fanart and i appreciate all the effort you have done for drawing this 😭 you guys are just so creative with your portrayals of your own readers and i'm glad you found inspiration through my fanfics.

[thatdeadaquarius]

So like I just went through almost all your language posts and I was wondering what if like the creator sometimes just switches languages out of no where and everyone is just like:😃. Cuz like they don’t understand what they mean and it happens randomly too or when they’re irritated and they just start cussing in like 3 different languages at once

IM SO SORRY TO DO IT TO YOU-

but i think ive written some stuff abt this before?

u know what tho.

ive got an even better idea. my “go-to” if you will.

Torture Alhaitham.

>:)

^^^ ALHAITHAM RUNNING U DOWN AFTER YOU SAY EXACTLY (1) WORD IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE HE’S NEVER HEARD-

☆

Sun: Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT headcanons-ish?, Language shenanigans!

Stars: Alhaitham (suffer lol)

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: None Known & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

he’s watching you. constantly.

he’s always writing about you.

he’s following you around Sumeru City.

he’s following you around Port Ormos.

he’s at your house-

Alhaitham learns you speak multiple languages before any other akademiya schloar, and he’s submitting a thesis about “the Greatest Lords languages from their home world”

before you can even say “I’ll think about it” in any language u know lol

people have definitely mistaken him as your favored acolyte (not that he does much to deny it)

and talk to him like he’s your secretary?? …oh, welp.

Alhaitham knows your schedule for the next month within a week of following you

mans is willing to do the MOST to get you to sit down and just start talking in a language at him

want food? his specialty dish ingredients are always at the ready at his house

want literature? he’s offering to literally break into the akademiya (or giving you a copy of his house key to have access to his personal library all the time)

(tho kaveh is practically hugging you to his chest as you walk around perusing as he talks ur ear off lmao)

Haitham (he sometimes insists you call him when it’s just you two) wants to singlehandedly be the first person who understands every word you say when u coo at dogs in another language

or cuss out a fictional character for being stupid

CRYING U CANT EVEN GET MAD AT HIM BC

every time u get pissed he’s interrupting every other word you say to ask for definitions/clarifications of slang 😭

send help he’s made a red string theory board of all the languages you’ve used to try and just- make sense of all their rules and when you use them and how to tell the difference and oh no-

Alhaitham’s hanging pictures of you mid-sentence with ur mouth open or even worse when ur yelling.

…u know maybe its not for an akademiya project, maybe he’s just trying to humble you. 💀

☆

thanks again for sending this ask in!! :D

language sagaus my beloved <3

tbh i have likeeeee 54 things in my drafts rn? so needless to say im slow, BUT IM SO HAPPY U GUYS GAVE ME THIS MUCH TO FAWN OVER, REQUESTS OR NO <333333333333

:]

an iced coffee? for me?? :O

☆

Safe Travels Ariasdream,

💀♒

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

[inkdrinkerworld]

hiiii I really love your autistic!reader fics :] I was wondering if you could please do one where r just has an absolutely horrible sensory day, nothing bad happens but just they didn’t sleep and woke up super overstimulated and still had to go through a busy day to the point where they go nonverbal, have a meltdown and need to lock themself away in their room in the dark/quiet for like a day. and then once they feel better and come over, remus (or dealer!remus my beloved) talks about it and comforts them <3 this is super specific lol it just happened to me and my roommates did not notice or care so I’d love to hear what you think remus would do <333

I love all your fics so so dearly thank you for being you and for all your hard work !!!!

I’m sorry they didn’t care! Sending you this Remus fic to make up for it

You’re not sure when this ‘off’ feeling had settled into your body, but now that it has it seems impossible to shake.

You’d woken up and just knew that something was wrong. Something intrinsic to you was off and possibly twisted up and tangled in ways that made it difficult for you to articulate what it was.

Your phone’s alarm was too loud, you could feel the sheets scratching your thighs and you couldn’t take a breath deeper than four seconds long if you tried.

Then you’d gotten into work and gotten even more overstimulated so by the end of your day you’d felt this building nausea swirling all up your throat from your stomach.

You can also feel a migraine coming on and it worsens the nausea.

You might be sick on the train ride home. You were in fact sick on the train ride home- thank god you keep a spare shirt in your bag.

When you got in, Remus wasn’t there- probably still at the dispensary. Which as bad as it sounds was the best option.

You smell like sick, you’re cold sweating, and you can’t stop your tears from falling down your face.

It’s horrible. You feel like you’ve been run over and like your body is fighting you with every step you take.

You’re grateful Remus doesn’t see you like this.

Your shower is hot, to the point of steam curling around you but you didn’t feel a thing.

You’re hardly awake for more than ten minutes, slipping into a pair of underwear and getting under your heavy covers and falling asleep.

“Dovey, hi.” You wake up to Remus stroking your back, his nails blunt and fingers warm as they trail up and down your back.

You shake his hand off, your head throbbing as you turn to look at him.

The nap didn’t help the migraine.

Remus takes a moment to look at your face, eyes assessing as he stares. “Was it a quiet kind of day?” You squeeze his hand and Remus coos.

He lowers his tone, voice smooth and soft like velvet. “I put your clothes in the wash, and I can get you your notepad.”

You shake your head, sitting up a bit and opening your arms to Remus. Your arms drop when you spot his sweater - maybe he’s just come in from work.

He understands immediately, “I’ve showered already, so I’m not in outside clothes.” He assures you before his arms close around you.

Remus is warm in a way you don’t understand. His body constantly furnace-like, and it helps to ground you.

“I had a bad day.” You croak, throat tight as you speak.

“You don’t have to force yourself, dove.”

You shake your head, “I want to tell you,” Remus nods, kissing your neck as you steady yourself. “I woke up feeling really bad, like I couldn’t get anything my body had to do right but I went into work anyway thinking it’d just go away. It didn’t. Then I threw up on the train home and cried and then threw up again, and then came home, showered and slept.”

Remus coos, “I’m sorry today was so awful, sweet girl. Will you be able to take tomorrow off? I’m home all day and we could make a ‘recovery from overstimulation,’ day of it.”

You could cry. You’ve the sweetest boyfriend and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t realize.

“Are you sure?” You gnaw on your lip as Remus pulls back, a tender smile on his face.

“Perks of being your own boss, baby. I set the days. Want me to call your boss?”

You nod, “Please? And we can watch a movie when you’re done?” You’re already shuffling down under the covers as Remus reaches for your phone.

“Course dovey, put on Atlantis and I’ll go get some water and salted crackers.”

As bad as your day had started, it feels lighter now that Remus is here.

[luludeluluramblings]

Hi so I was having some brainrot regarding your small-town-neglected-meta reader and I wanted to share them with you!

One thing I've been thinking about alot is the way readers powers work and what kinds of weather they're likely to create, etc. One thing I specifically thought about is that readers powers definitely have to come from her mom's side. Bruce and no else in Bruce's biological line have powers so readers mom has to have the meta gene. I was thinking that maybe readers mom also controlled the weather a bit, maybe not as strong as reader can but still had some powers.

Like creating little drizzles, maybe some dustdevils, and little snow storms. Because her powers were so weak she never really used them for much, maybe to help out her own parents on the farm but that's about it(using her rain powers to easily water the crops)

In that same line of thinking I also wondered if readers little brother also has superpowers. Maybe the way his powers work or appear are bit different than readers because of they have different dads(I imagine Bruce has really strong genetics. If Damian is any proof of that lol)

One little crank in this little headcanon though is that Nana and Gramps would also have to have superpowers. But then I reread the first chapter and thought about One of the phrases you used to describe how reader got in Bruce's hands.

"but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the court."

That specifically makes me think that Nana and Gramps are actually readers little brother biological grandparents and not theirs.(what happened to their bio grandparents 🤔)

But anyway, one last thing I wanted mention is how badly I want to see reader using their powers more freely when they're back in small town. Like they aren't afraid to use their powers to make it super windy and have fun with their little brother up on the sky. Or causing a blizzard just so they can have a snowball fight and make snow-men with their little brother. Or even accidently cause a power outage because someone pissed them off! No more suppressed emotions just freedom. (Also reader crying in the middle of the rain they made in front of their parents graves(they wanted to be buried in their hometown) would be so tragically fantasic.)

Anyway I know this is a lot to read and I'm sorry if I seem a bit scrambled but I wanted to send this to you just cause I had so many ideas floating up in my brain I couldn't stop thinking about it all. Thank you for listening to me ramble, I hope your doing amazing🩷

Your call this bain-rot, Imma call it fertilizer. This is long as mess, but I think I addressed everything. Lots of Smalltown!Reader lore and I made a Family Tree to help explain if needed.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Smalltown!Reader's Family Tree:

Complicated little bugger, ain't it? I didn't add Stephanie or Barbara because Bruce technically never adopted them or fostered them. This isn't an official thing, I made this and it was composed of little bits of information I found online. So some of this stuff might not be lore accurate.

Also, while I was researching I found out that Bruce's middle name was apparently Patrick, after his grandfather at one point.

Now, time for the pseudo science.

I consider the meta gene to be a genetic trait carried down by a parent. That would be Momma/Adeline, in this case. She carries the gene. Now, the meta gene does not always activate even if one has it. So, no, Momma was not making mini storms for us. She was, however, very encouraging of Reader using their abilities. It takes an event, usually a traumatic one, to activate the gene. (Little Brother could be getting power's in the next chapter, though.)

As for Nana and Grand Daddy we have this:

They don't have the gene, so they don't have abilities. (Which doesn't me their harmless.) They are Reader's Step-Grandparents, but they've grown to love them all the same. Now, in court, it is preferred for a child to go to the nearest blood relative after their parents die. Or, at least, that's what I roughly know from what the court in my state is like. I'm not from Louisiana or New Jersey, where Gotham's located, so maybe it's different. But, this is fiction. This is why Nana and Grand Daddy didn't get custody of Reader, though. Plus Bruce is rich with a bunch of adopted kids, on paper he looks like the best option.

☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎

I really love the thought of Reader using their abilities for silly little things while back in Smalltown, at least before things absolutely go to hell in a hand basket. So I'll probably include a bit. (They used to do things like that before moving to Gotham, definitely.) Something I want to mention is that Reader likes to make it rain when their happy. It's their favorite weather, they love it. So a grave scene might be a bit different. (I have to include that now. Thank you for that idea! Frick, Part Eight about to be long af.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

If your curious about Reader's other grandparents, they just died from old age and health problems. I like to think that Reader had a close relationship with them. Calling them MawMaw and Gab for their nicknames and having spent a lot of time with Reader and their Little Brother before they died. (I'm sorely tempted to just commit to rewriting this with the OC I based Reader off of so I can include all this backstory to highlight how different their life in Gotham is compared to what it used to be, but I best finish what I started first.)

(Side Note: It's very common in the American south for people to give their grandparents nicknames. I have some for my southern grandparents, while I call my northern grandparents just plain Grandma and Grandpa. The nickname can vary and is usually what ever the first grandchild comes up with.)

Thank you for sending me this ask! Stuff like this actually inspires me so this was wonderful. Hopefully this helps. (Now to get back to work on my writing, I've been draggin' my feet again.)

[romana-after-dark]

Ignore if it’s too gross:

But what about poor reader being so terrified of logan while he’s non conning her that she wets herself?

Wet

Taglist Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: as stated above lol

Warnings: piss kink! non con! crying! Mild feet! Almost sufficating!!! Reference to the school but reader is not a student. IDK the lore its a short peice but thats NOT whats happening. Still dark af tho so dont read if thats not your thing.

AN: this essentially the same thing as Cry Harder with Joel so if you love joely, give 'er a go.

A/N: Also anon, its not gross!!!! I dont do this big ones like incest, bestiality or incest ofc, and theres other stuff i dont write but also long as its isnt those first three i aint gonna be pressed. Send away! You're so sweet for asking!!!

450 words

************

He had to shove your face into the mattress before you woke up the whole school.

"Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!" Logan growls, flipping you onto your stomach when you were crying too loud. He couldn't have anyone hearing what he was doing to you, but fuck he couldn't take it anymore, the way you pranced around in those tight little tops and hot pants on and up. You wanted this. So why the fuck were you crying?

Face down, Logan pressed your face into the mattress with his foot on your head while his strong arm wraps around your middle to pull you up, cock stretching you open. You could feel his balls slapping against your pussy with every thrust, sobbing into your blankets as he fucked your powerless body. There was nothing to do but cry.

But Logan didn't like that.

"Jesus fucking christ!" He growls, slapping your ass to make you shut up but that just made you yelp more. Logan he wasn't going to let you ruin this for him. He wasn't going to let a warm cunt fuck up by having a mouth. If he was caught, it'd be all over for him.

Logan shifts he weight, leaning more on the foot on your head and shoving you in deeper, and finally your cries were muffled. Even though you were screaming now, body writhing in panic he wasn't stopping, not when he was this close. You were so fucking wet, so fucking warm and fuck, so fucking tight... Fear did that like nothing else.

You pulse around him, contractions of fear rather than an orgasm, and he was about to cum inside you. So fucking close. Ball drawing up, he was growing sick of your screams. You didn't need to fucking breath all the time, you were getting enough air, he was sure. Just being dramatic.

"I said, shut the fuck UP!" Logan punctuated his final word by punching down on the mattress, extending his blades with a *ssshing!*.

A blood curdling scream Logan was sure would be ear piercing if he wasn't half sufficating you erupts into the bed, and suddenly his cock is flooded with a warm liquid. You didn't cum. It sprays out around his dick as it rams into you for a final few times, spreading down both your legs and his as Logan groans, head dropped back in pleasure. So good, so fucking good.

Balls emptied inside you, Logan finally pulls himself out of you and your hips fall to the bed as your face rises, gasping for air.

Logan pulls on his jeans and heads towards the door.

"Quit being so fucking dramatic."

********

Thanks for reading!!!!

Im loving writing Logan. I've gotten several Logan asks on either account and please keep coming! you might get a paragraph, a few paragraphs, or a fic. WHo knows!

If you like triple frontier or tlou, please consider chcking out my other stuff!!

Dont be afraid to join my taglist or follow @romana-updates

@del-ightfulling @hornystan

[abbyromanoff]

hiii! can I request a yelena x reader smut? Maybe something like yelena was gonna assassinate r but decides to fuck her instead? lol

CHANGE OF PLANS

PAIRINGS: Yelena Belova x reader

WORD COUNT: 1052

WARNINGS: smut, mentions of murder, mentions of assassinations, aggressive!yelena, gun kink, degrading, blowjobs on gun lol, cunnilingus, boot humping, darkkkkk fic, threatening, sex on a rooftop, crying kink (kinda), think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Yelena watched with a grin as you continued your desperate humping against her boot just as she asked. The gun pointed at your temple was teasing, a reminder of what could happen if you didn’t comply. You weren’t planning to be in this position anytime soon, but your plans seemed to change the moment the woman tackled you onto the concrete.

Your best friend, Kate Bishop, was the main reason for this, at least that’s what Yelena claimed. She was looking for the woman and her partner but stumbled upon you. Her first thought was to ruin your chance at even trying, but she decided to give you a single chance. You begged her for mercy so effectively, she would have listened to the sounds for the rest of her short life if she could.

“Yele- f-fuck, I can’t take it anymore, Yelena. I’m gonna cum-“ You were interrupted by the sounds of her trigger finger clicking, sending you into a quick, frantic reaction as you instantly started to move faster.

“You cum, you die, Y/N.” The use of your full name made you gulp, you knew she wasn’t one to lie. She always kept her promises, and you weren’t going to be the first to change that. In all honesty, she had noticed you long ago while scoping out another target, but now that she was seeing you again she couldn’t let the opportunity go.

“I-I’m sorry, I won’t!” She chuckled dryly, your submission offering her a sense of arousal. She lowered the weapon, pressing the cold metal against your lips and forcing you to part them. She took advantage of this and forced it into your mouth, grinning as your eyes fluttered shut and your tongue maneuvered around the object continuously. You imagined it was her cock, the plastic inching further until she’d reach the back of your throat, effectively bruising the tissue.

“Look at you, sucking off the same gun I was gonna use to blow your tiny brains out. Mm, such a cute little slut.” You tried thanking her but she was faced with only gags and mumbles failing to leave.

“Such a nasty little girl, I bet you’re not even ashamed.” She started. “And I think that if Kate were to walk out here right now, you wouldn’t stop, would you?” Tears glossed over your eyes and explored the skin of your cheek and she smiled in response.

“Called it.” She eventually let you breathe as she removed the object from your mouth, only to unbutton her bottoms and force your head closer. Her pants dragged down along with her undergarments and you nearly came at the sight alone. Your tongue collided with her pulsing clit and you guessed your actions had been the cause of this. She wasn’t nearly as bad as you, but you were going to make it so she was.

“F-fuck, that’s it.” Her hips thrusted slightly as she chased her appending orgasm. You kept your tongue still, letting her take control as you greedily drank her thirst. You continued a grind on her boot, you truly didn’t care how dirty it may be, you were just as dirty and disgusting.

“Don’t stop, whore. Keep going for me, just like t-that.” Her chest heaved as she bit her lip harshly, tasting blood seeping into her mouth and groaning at the metallic taste.

She seemed able to sense your slowness and finally found a part of her that was willing to let you off easy. She sighed gracefully, looking down at you as she fought the urge to smile. You looked so small compared to her, so weak under her gaze. She pulled your head back for a split moment, eyeing the line of spit that connected you to her weeping cunt.

“Here’s the deal: you’re going to make me cum, and then maybe I’ll consider letting you. Then, I’m gonna take you home and fuck the shit out of you. After that, we’ll never see each other again, and you’ll have no idea who I even was, deal?” You nodded desperately, although saddened by her ending. You didn’t want to leave her just yet, consider it selfish but you wanted to stay by her side, even if that meant the possibility of putting other's lives in danger.

“Good girl. Now make me cum, you slut.” You did as she asked and instantly started up again, taking only a few minutes before her juices flooded your sore mouth. Your jaw was aching to be shut and your tongue was begging to rest, but your body was fueled by the arousal she fed you.

“Oh, fuck! Mhm, y-yeah, fuckin’ cumming, baby.” Her Russian accent made the pit in your stomach tighten even further, and you were shocked you hadn’t broken her rule yet. If it wasn’t for the gun in her hand that you knew was fully loaded then maybe you would’ve.

“Let go,” She asserted. “Now!” The weapon was once again teasing your forehead, the cold material sending shivers throughout your weak body as your legs shook. You looked down, admiring the puddle that formed and the soaked shoe she wore. She chuckled hoarsely, grasping your chin and forcing you to return your gaze to her. Your pupils were blown out, your mouth parted, and your eyebrows furrowed as you whispered your gratefulness through chapped lips.

“Oh, you’re such a cute plaything.” She kept her promise that night, taking you home and fucking you until there was no breath left in your lungs. She brought you to your house to not expose her location, and you weren’t able to ponder on the fact that she knew your address without asking. Although, you guessed you were the first she broke her promise for, as she continued to stop by your apartment. She never gave you a warning when she’d arrive, she’d just knock on your door quietly and slam you into the wall when you opened it, kissing you with hunger before kicking it shut and taking you to the bedroom. There wasn’t a night that she stayed, always choosing to leave in the late nights when you slept. But you hoped that day would come soon enough, and you hoped that if you kept this up, she’d never go near your friends again.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Jimmy Uso x Reader - Untitled

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Okay.. this is me working on my smut lol. If anyone has any pointers, let me know. ❤️

To Hubby 💍☝🏽: thank u for the flowers 💋❤️

From Hubby 💍☝🏽: U welcome beautiful. You gon be wearing that when i come back?

To: Hubby 💍☝🏽: Maybe 🤫

To Hubby 💍 ☝🏽 : miss you 😘

From Hubby 💍☝🏽: Fuck, im omw

“Oh shit,” Alani whined as Jon started hammering in and out of her wet pussy. He pushed one of her knees up to her chest and wrapped her other leg around his waist. The position allowed him to hit her sweet spot head on.”Jon, shit.” She moaned out, closing her eyes in ecstasy as he pounded into her.  He was showing her no mercy. She had teased him all night sending him dirty text messages and pictures. He had left the arena as soon as his match was over, telling his brothers and cousin that he wasn’t feeling well. 

“Nah , where you goin’?” He asked as she pushed on his lower stomach trying to push him away. He grabbed her hand and placed it above her head, holding it down to the bed. “This what you wanted right?” He asked, slowing his thrust and leaning down to press kisses on her neck. He picked his head up and slapped her thigh when she didn’t answer him. “You hear me talking to you” 

Alani let her eyes roll into the back of her head and moaned out ”Yes”. He was absolutely right, this was exactly what she wanted. She knew that he was already wound up and horny from being constantly interrupted all week and she had not been any help by sending him those pictures earlier. 

She gasped when he suddenly pulled out and flipped her on her stomach. “F-fuck” He stuttered once he pushed himself back inside of her. He placed one hand on the back of her neck pinning her down to the bed, his eyes glued to her ass as it ricocheted off of his stomach. 

“Mmhmm'' He groaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. “Just like that” Jon’s head pulled back in pleasure as Alani continued to throw her ass back on him. 

“You like that daddy?” She asked, feeling herself grow wetter at the sounds that he was making. 

“I fucking love it.” Jon moaned, feeling her pussy tighten around him. He quickly maneuvered them back into missionary position, knowing that she liked to look in his eyes when she came.  He had a wicked grin on his face as he watched her eyes become glazed over. 

“Yeah, you gonna cum on your dick?” Alani could only muster up a loud moan in response. She pulled him back down by the back of his neck and captured his lips with hers. Moaning into each other's mouth as her pussy started to spasm around his length.  Alani broke to kiss to let out a cry of his she came, her juices rushing out of her and soaking his pelvic area and the sheets below them. 

“Shit” He moaned out, his thrust faltering. She opened her eyes, licking her lips as they made eye contact. “Where you want it at baby?” Jon asked, watching and letting out a moan as she brought her hand to her pussy and started rubbing her clit. 

“Oh fuck, baby.” She moaned out feeling herself about to cum again. “I want you to cum in me.”

He looked at Alani with glossy eyes. “Fuck yeah,” he groaned out before pushing her legs up so her feet were almost touching the headboard, knees by her ears. 

“Shit, i’m bouta cum” Jon moaned out as he pounded into her. He let out a loud groan as he came inside her, hops stuttering as continued to thrust slowly into her, her pussy milking him of every last drop. He pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to her holding his hand up for a high five.  

Alani looked over at him. “You're so corny.” she rolled her eyes and slapped her hand against his. She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, trailing her fingers up and down his chest. 

“Only for you baby, only for you.”  He muttered, eyes closed as he puckered his lips from a kiss to which she happily obliged. 

“I love you.” She whispered against his lips. 

“I love you too.” 

🫣

tell me what y'all think. I have literally working on this for like 4 months. And it's still not perfect to me but.. enjoy & thank you for reading 🫶🏽

🏷️: @harmshake @empressdede @theninthwonder @qveenmikaelson @black-yn

@mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @zillasvilla @thatone-girly

@xmonetsworld @paigereeder @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996

@alyyaanna @li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste @wrestlingprincess80 @that-one-anxious-mango

@mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @trashbin-nie @adoreesun @meggylynnloves @shayaaaaaaa

@bebesobrielo @bookuce

[petcr3]

don't shed no tears | bradley bradshaw x reader

summary: you have a terrible day. bradley has a plan.

word count: 845

warnings: bradley calls the reader my girl, this one is very short lol!

You almost hold it together. 

Really, you almost do.

But your work day seemed determined never to end. Each time you thought you’d gotten on top of what you needed to do, there was a new fire to put out. It was as if everything that could have gone wrong did, and just about everyone you encountered during your day was in a foul mood. 

Even so, you had pushed through frustration after frustration, and finally made it home. It’s your day off tomorrow and you get to spend the rest of your night with your boyfriend. Things are looking up.

Any other day, you would have laughed it off. But when you finally let yourself plop down on the couch that’s flush with your living room wall and bang your head, the dam just breaks. 

The sound of a particularly forceful “motherfucker!” sends Bradley bolting downstairs, and when he sees you crouched forward, your face in your hands, he’s on his knees in front of you in seconds.

“Honey? What happened, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you say miserably.

“You don’t sound fine.” You don’t respond for a moment. The rough pad of his thumb wipes a wayward tear from your cheek. “You’re crying, hun.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, voice wavering, “I just hit my head.”

“You hit your head?” You want to curl up and wither away. This is so embarrassing. It’s only the worry in his voice that makes you look up.

“Not hard. I just clonked it when I sat down. I’m… I had a really bad day. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t apologize. Not your fault you had a bad day. C’mere.” Bradley leans forward, still kneeling in front of you, and wraps you in his arms. You sag into his embrace, and tears begin to darken the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. A little sob works its way out of your chest.

“Not–– not really.” You feel Bradley’s mustache before his lips as he turns to press a kiss to your temple.

“That’s okay,” he coos, “It’s okay.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then: “I have an idea.” 

You aren’t particularly pleased when he gets up, but you don’t have it in you to complain. His footfalls are quiet on the carpet as he pads over to the record player and starts fiddling around.

“What are you doing?” you hazard after a moment.

“I can’t tell you,” he says. “Just hang on a second–– this is gonna be romantic as shit.” You let out a little giggle through your tears, and he grins over his shoulder at you. Leave it to Bradley to make you laugh when all you want to do is crawl into a hole and never come out.

A little flash of blue catches your eye as he finds whatever album he’s been searching for, but you don’t get a good enough look to suss out what it is. Finally, he drops the needle, and you hear the opening notes of No Woman No Cry. The organ plays softly, and you sniffle as a fresh wave of tears hits you. Bradley holds out his hand. 

“Dance with me?” You wipe your eyes and nod, shuffling into his arms. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and draws you in, settling you against his chest with a hand at the nape of your neck. Relief floods through you at the warmth of his touch, the slow and comforting beat of the music, the sway of your bodies.

“I love you,” you mumble into his chest.

“I love you too, baby. I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

“It’s much better now.” That makes him smile. The rest of the song plays out to comfortable silence as you rock back and forth together. It’s a longer cut–– the live version Bradley is playing is a little more than seven minutes–– and eventually, you find that you’re cried out. As the song ends and the crowd on the recording begins to cheer, you tilt your chin up to look at him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Hey, anything to see my girl smile.” And you do, tilting your head down bashfully. 

As the cheers fade, the next song on the record begins to play and the plucky guitar of Could You Be Loved fills the room. Unable to help himself, Bradley begins to bob along with the rhythm. He withdraws a little from the embrace and takes your hands, bouncing your arms back and forth. You feign a pout, but it’s useless. As usual, Bradley Bradshaw is sunshine, fending off the gathering clouds until all you can see is him. You relent and begin to match his movements and he breaks into a beautiful, enormous grin.

As you dance late into the night, you remember that this is what it’s all about. That no matter how awful your day is, you have someone to come home to that knows, without fail, how to lift you up.

[stylespresleyhearted]

THIS JUST IN: CALLUM TURNER, NEW FATHER

pt. ✌🏻 ~ fc: beautiful rosie hunington-whitely ~

masterlist here ; part one here

enjoy ♥️

-

liked by user02, user14, and 71954 others

dailymail Callum Turner made a surprise appearance at last night’s award show with girlfriend Y/N and we were all shocked to see she is no longer pregnant. She’s even back in shape! Click the link in bio to find out everything we know about the birth of their child

view all comments

fan21 did ya’ll think she was gonna be pregnant forever ???

fan23 What a horrible thing to do. Talking about a woman’s body and her being in shape after she’s carried and birthed a child? Do better dailymail!

fan12 AHHH CONGRATS TO THEM! 😭🙌🏼♥️

fan33 luckiest child ever

liked by austinbutler and 93715 others

yourinstagram happy daddy day my love 🫶🏻 we love you a million

(also yes our baby was born. he’s perfect.)

view all comments

fan23 omfg ima cry i know he’s the best fucking dad

austinbutler ❤️

yourinstagram we miss you uncle austin!

keoghan92 I remember when Cal used to carry me on his shoulders like that around set 🥺

anthonyboyle you’re ridiculous

yourinstagram LMAO happy fathers day! Come visit soon 😘

yourfriendsinstagram omg so you aren’t gonna be pregnant forever? what?! (😒)

liked by rafflaw, austinbutler, and 76199 others

callumturner I made an Instagram to publicly wish my beautiful partner and the best mum around (sorry Mum) a happy birthday. I love you darling and you two are the most precious things in my life 🥳

comments have been limited

florencepugh I too would make an entire Instagram just to love on @yourinstagram so I get it 😝

anthonyboyle OI IT’S Y/N DAY

camilamorrone happy burfday y/n!!! love you loads!!! 🥳❤️

austinbutler Funny thing, I took this photo. 🌚

keoghan92 LMAO calling him out! tbh it looked like a photo taken by you 😉

callumturner Fuck off the both of you 😂

rafflaw Austin won’t reply to a text but he’ll comment on an Instagram photo. Got it.

yourinstagram austin i told you not to send him the photo 😩 i look horrible! delete!

callumturner Impossible. Never.

liked by zendaya, rafflaw, and 41896 others

yourinstagram Thank you for all the wonderful birthday wishes & thank you to all my friends and family who joined our little family on my birthday excursion 😘 life has never been better since our little man joined us ♥️

view all comments

keoghan92 not fair that austin hogged him the entire week! me and brando had plans for the little guy!

oliviadejonge love you 🥀

fan23 This little family owns my heart. ❤️

liked by user12, yourinstagram, and 577 others

callumnews Callum’s happy reaction when his son yelled out “daddy!” during the panel 😭

view all comments

fan23 all the guys talking about what a great dad he is made me tear up

fan42 “Uncle Austin is the favorite” confirmed by callum lmao barry was heated!!

fan12 He was eager to get on that stage haha! @yourinstagram looks like he’s gonna follow in his dad’s footsteps!

yourinstagram 😂😂 seriously he loves the attention and he’s such a daddy’s boy he kept trying to head on stage

liked by appletv, rafflaw, and 12945 others

yourinstagram #tbt dad life

view all comments

keoghan92 Oh yeah 100%

user13 this is the most of his face they’ve shown

user14 don’t be weird

callumsfamily I miss when the little man couldn’t walk y/n have another!

yourinstagram 😉

fan21 OMG

liked by fan13, zendaya, and 17322 others

yourinstagram MOM LYFE

view all comments

yourfriendsinstagram I miss kissing his chubby baby rolls (and tell Callum to stop taking photos of you in the shower)

fan12 LOL

fan23 It’s funny to picture Y/N trynna shower and Callum and their baby waiting patiently on the toilet 😂😂

yourinstagram they do NOT wait patiently 😂

liked by fan13, fan55, and 88154 others

callumnews Callum greeting his mother as she joined him, Y/N, and her grandson for a day at the park. She was bestowed an award at Parliament House last week for her contribution to gender and cultural equality and she dedicated it to her grandson. All photos of their child had his face blurred out of respect for the Turner family.

view all comments

fan23 He lives on Callum’s shoulders 😂

fan12 Y/N is living all my fanfiction dreams tbh

user23 I hope magazines and fans continue to blur out his face in photos until Callum and Y/N are ready.

fan53 Callum’s mom is so awesome wow

yourinstagram she’s the coolest & the most amazing nan! ♥️ the little guy calls her about 20 times a day because he loves her so much and we have to remind him she has work which he does not like to hear 😂

liked by austinbutler, yourinstagram, and 1533470 others

callumturner time flies when you’re having fun has never felt more existential than since we were blessed with this little human.

We are aware that because of my line of work people will be curious and photos will be taken. As his parents, me and Y/N want to protect him and get ahead of it. To my fans and to the media, if you respect me or basic human decency, we ask that you please only allow the photos we post of our son to grace the internet. Thank you.

view all comments

fan23 Guys if we love and respect Callum like we say we do let’s promise to help protect their son’s privacy!

anthonyboyle Holy shit he’s looking more like his dad every day ain’t he?

keoghan92 Poor lad

-

Completely fictional! Barry is all up in the comment section and Raff Law is always all up in the likes but it’s because those two are always (or used to be) online haha

Let me know if ya’ll liked it and if you’d want more 🫶🏻

[mysicklove]

𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

DAY 4: SENSORY DEPRIVATION

With: Kyojuro Rengoku

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Sub! Kyojuro, gn! reader, blindfold/gag/earmuffs, feather usage, ice usage, nonverbal safe word discussed (not used), implied wax play, crying, begging/pleading, reader is a liar.

A/N: Everytime i wrote about his happy trail i thought of ashi. LOL. also this fic is a mess im going to be honest. not my best work, my friends.

Rengoku doesn't understand why he was put in this position. He doesn't understand why he has a blindfold on with his arms tied together behind him, and his legs strapped to the bottom of the chair. He doesn't understand why he has a small black gag in his mouth and pink fluffy earmuffs. 

The thing was, Kyojuro struggles with restraints. He just can't seem to sit still when he receives pleasure. He wants desperately to obey your commands, but your touch always sends him spiralling, and his body always jerks and twitches without meaning to. He has accidentally knocked your hand away so many times when you overstimulate him, or forced your hand back onto his cock when you edge him. It was just a force of habit, and he always apologizes profusely when he does so. Its not like he means to disobey you.

So, tying him up was the next best option. Plus, depriving him of his senses was just because you were feeling cruel, and you wanted to see how strongly he was bound to react with your touch. 

So here he was, completely at your mercy, shivering slightly from what you could guess fear or guilt. He has never done anything to make him deserve a “punishment”, but you were mean. He just looked so pretty when his face was contorted in fear, you couldnt help yourself.

Rengokus blindfold was already dampening with tears as he continues to tremble under your view. His whole world is dark, and everything is silent. The lack of his senses was a strange feeling, and it overwhelmed him.  "I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry. Im sorry," He pleads into the gag, the words coming out so muffled you can barely make out the apologies. 

You grab his chin, and press a kiss to his temple, his cheek, and his neck. Immediately he seems to calm down, and you take this time to remove just one of his earmuffs. “Did nothing wrong, Kyo. There is no need to cry.”

He jumps at the sudden sound, and turns to where your voice was coming from. He sniffles, but nods, leaning his head forward to hopefully coax out more affection from you. You smile at him and move to rest your palm on his cheek. He nuzzles it immediately, thankful for any touch. The darkness and the silence made him feel alone, and he was grateful to have some sort of reassurance. 

Your hands graze at his thighs, and he flinches at the feeling, breathing into the muzzle. “Not going anywhere, relax pretty. I'm here,” You coo, using your other hand to run through his hair. He seems to finally begin to melt, his arms no longer struggling against the restraints, and his body refrained from shivering. “Gonna make you feel good, yeah?”

He doesn't even try to speak, the gag wouldnt allow him to anyways. But he nods his head obediently, trying not to move too much from excitement. You kiss his cheek again, hardly containing yourself from how cute he is. Then, you reach back and place a small bell into his hands. He slightly cocks his head to the side, no doubt furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “If you want to stop, ring that. Can you do that for me?”

He nods determinedly, and then rings it to test it out. Immediately, like a puppy, he turns to you, expectantly awaiting his reward for listening. You indulge him, giggling slightly and kissing the space right below his ears, one of his erogenous zones. He groans into the gag, accidentally pulling at the restraints once again. “Good boy!” You praise, and it sends his head spinning. “Now, ring that whenever you feel uncomfortable and I will stop, alright?” He nods his head. “Good. I'm not going to hurt you tonight Kyo, so you can relax.”

You fingers continue to drag along the area inches from his now hard dick, eyeing it contently. It sticks up proud, and seems to be begging to be touched. You smile and turn back to him, watching the way his chest raises from his breath in steady motions. “I'm going to put your earmuffs back on, so it's going to be a little quiet. It'll just make all the touches more pleasurable, I promise.”

He nods his head, and lets out a gargled, “love you,” through the gag, to which you smile, and murmur your own words of endearment. Then, you cover his ear with the earmuffs, and sigh.

Like a predator stalking their prey, you circle the chair for a second, overwhelmed at the possibilities of what to do to him first. Your fingers drag over his neck and then trace down his arm. He shivers with every movement, feeling goosebumps rise with every graze of your finger. Its overwhelmingly sensitive, and he swears he can almost feel your breath on his skin. His sense of touch was heightened with the lack of the others.

Your mouth latches onto his neck, slightly nibbling at the sensitive skin. He pants into the gag, and slightly bares his neck to give you more room. You pull away for a moment, and blow on his neck, sending his whole body into a fit of shivers. You cant help but giggle at the action, and place your hand on his thigh in mock comfort.

Your head was growing foggy from the meer power you felt over him. He was completely at your mercy, and other than viciously fight at the restrains, he could do nothing. Of course you loved him, and would never dare to do something he didn't like, but you couldn't help but tease him just a little. You may have lied about the “only” pleasure aspect of it.

You sit yourself on his lap, startling him. Baring no mind to his reaction, you lean up and kiss his chin in reassurance, before turning to your right and grabbing the object you have been dying to use. 

A dainty white feather. Something so soft and fragile, that is going to send your lover into a spiral. The thought made your mouth water, and Kyojuro, almost sensing your thoughts, visibly gulps.

You first run your own fingers over his chest, grazing over his nipples. He remains motionless, but you can see him tense. His chest was a very sensitive part of his body, and he was afraid of what was to come next. Rightfully so.

You pull away, and glance downward toward his abdomen. With a wicked grin, you take a hold onto the feather and graze his lower stomach, just where his happy trail begins. Its a light touch, and you barely even skim the surface of his skin, but the reaction is immediate. Another full body shiver, seemingly from the ticklish feeling this time. 

You hum, pleased with the reaction, and continue your antics upward. His pants grow louder into the gag with the passing seconds. Finally, the feather drags along his chest. The spot you have been most curious to see.

The feather glides over his nipple and he lets out a garbled whine. The buds harden in an instant and he nervously shakes his head. You ignore it and continue your movements, circling his chest.

Rengoku twitches under your hold and pulls against the restraints. He is so unbelievably sensitive there, and with the addition to the blind fold and earmuffs, he swears the feather is borderline overstimulating him. He can feel every bristle of it, and the cool air it pushes towards him when you slightly flap it. It sends him into a frenzy. It's too much, but too little. He wants more of the stimulation, but he also wants to pull away. He wants you to be rougher with him, but the idea of that makes him nervous. 

He doesn't know what he wants, and just like usual, he begins to tug at the restrains, body uncontrollably twitching. His chest tries to cave inward from the ticklish feeling, but he doesn't go far considering the restraints. He just continues to shake his head back and forth, high pitched yelps and complaints barely making it through the gag. 

“Aw baby, are you sensitive there?” You tease mostly to yourself, knowing he can't hear you all things considering. His squirms make you giggle, and you take vague notice to the bright hair that shakes from side to side from his sporadic movements. 

It tickles so much. It tickles and it feels good, and it hurts, and it is too soft, and he is losing his mind. The feeling of being bound, forced to take everything you give him only seems to make the feather more tortuous. 

He feels it begin to move downward, and Kyojuro heaves, trying to catch his breath after holding it for so long. His mouth clentches around the gag, and he tries to calm down his body. 

But of course, he can feel the feather move downward and oh. Oh no. He couldn't handle it down there. It was too sensitive.

He whips his head back and forth and whines into the gag. It comes out as a broken plea, and he can't hear your response, but he hopes you may take his noises to heart. He didn't get his hopes up.

The feather brushes around the tip, and Kyojuro yelps, jerking so much that the chair beneath him lifts up just slightly. You send a warning slap to his thigh, and he cries out, the tears beginning to flow again. It hurt more now that he couldnt see it. He apologizes through the gag, but it doesn't do much, other than make him drool all over himself.

You trace it up and down his cock, and he begins to tremble again. His dick is twitching with every stroke, and honestly it enamored you how reactive it was being. Cute.

One of your hands move back up his chest, thumbing at the nub, while the other continues its slow, light movements of the feather. Bringing it from the head, all the way down to his balls, giggling when your hear his cries.

“Not pweasure! Not pweasure!” He sobs, his thighs trembling. It tickled so much he couldn't stand it and with the addition of your fingers pinching his nipples, he was crumbling. You lied to him. He was supposed to feel good. Not to be teased to till he cant breathe anymore. You are so cruel.

Of course he couldnt say anything, nor use pleading eyes to beg for you to stop. But his body jerking back and forth, trying desperately to get anyway from your hands and the horrible, horrible feather definitely convey his emotions.

You grab one more item to end up the scene, finally setting down the feather. To continue on with little warning on what you had stored for him was cruel, even for you. But, of course you will have fun watching his reaction to this.

You place the small item in the palm of your hand, and gently bring it over to his cock. Then with a sadistic grin, you drag it down the shaft.

The first thing Kyojuro feels after the removal of the feather was cold. So unbearably cold, and right on his dick. 

Ice. It had to be. 

The chair comes lifting off the ground again from his quick movements to get away. He's screaming into the gag, and shaking his head profusely, begging for you to take it away. It was so cold, and he was so sensitive. His hands pull at the restraints and his body tries, and fails to crumble inward himself.

The blindfold slips off one of his eyes and he finally gets a view of you. His eyes are glassy, and flooded with tears, and his eyebrows are adorably furrowed in a plea. He makes a noise when you pull the ice away slightly, and you look up at him. 

“Aw Kyo, you want to see that badly?” You coo, and he can barely read your lips from the tears. He shakes his head and sobs, head hanging low. You bring the ice cube to his chest and he whines, eyes screwing shut automatically as his nipples harden. The cool water stains his chest, and he is shivering under it. 

His hips and back drive into the chair, to try to create some distance from the horrible coldness. It doesn't work, and his one eye watches the way the ice cube coats the dark patch of hair on his lower abdomen, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. It was making his way back to his groin, and all Kyojuro can do is cry, and hope you be easy on him. He can't stand the cold. He was made for heat.

One hand grabs onto his cock, steading the trembling thing, and the other holds onto the cube. “Well, if you want to watch so badly, might as well give you a show,” You whisper, and Kyojuro cant read your lips this time. So, he stares at you with mild confusion and fear as to what you are going to do next.

With one last malicious glance, you place the ice cube on top of the tip, and swirl it around his hole. He screams again, back arching, and staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. You don't let up even when his legs try again and again to shut, but ultimately fail. 

He can feel the cool liquid drip into his slit, and he feels as if he cannot breathe. It was one of the strongest sensations he has ever felt before, and his fingers dig into his palm to help steady himself. It was so cold. Unbelievably cold, and the water was dripping inside him, in a place where it should not be. 

Kyojuro didnt know what to do other than take it. The silence of it all was driving him even more mad, and he wonders if having him see this was worst than being blindfolded.

Your circular motions dont let up, and eventually it's the ice that begins to melt, considering how hot the hashira runs. You rub it over his now slightly shrinking dick, and his whole body is shivering. But, his whines and cries have finally gone down, instead just loud pants to try and catch his breath. He must be growing used to it.

This was a good stopping point. You run the remainder of the cube over the throbbing tip again, and he whimpers slightly, but it doesn't compare to what the noises he made before. You kiss his thighs, and drop the sliver of ice back into the metal bin, whipping your hands on your shirt.

He did well. It was impressive really. How good he did. But, you didnt expect anything else from your lover. 

You smile to yourself, and then reach up to remove the earmuffs and blindfold. But strangely enough, Kyojuros one free eye wasn't looking at you. His whole neck was staring to the right while his chests rise and fall with heavy breaths, as if he was entranced by something. Drool coats his mouth, but he doesn't seem to notice, so enthralled at what he is staring at.

You follow his gaze, eyes widening when you see it.

You watch as the candle you lit earlier to set the mood, drips with wax. It falls onto the candle stand, and Kyojuro stares with hearts in his eyes as if mesmerized by the wax. 

You let out a shaky breath, turning to him on last time, reading his mind. He glances at you and nods every so slightly, with a small huffs. You grin at him, readjusting his blindfold and grabbing the candle. You watch Rengokus adams' apple bob as he gulps in both fear and excitement. 

He was shivering so much, it was like he was in dire need to warm up. And you had just the solution for him, and instantaneous way to heat up his skin again.. A drop of wax drips onto Kyojuros thigh, and the man does his best to not scream at the burning sensation. 

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[danikamariewrites]

Hi! I’m in LOVE with your blog! Would you be able to write something with nessian x reader where the reader has just an awful no good day/week and maybe something small sets her off and they comfort her and calm her down? I have had a very bad week and I had a whole breakdown over dropping a pen lol and I wish they had been there to comfort me. Anyways, I hope you have an amazing day!!!

Just A Bad Day

Nessian x reader

a/n: They would be so sweet and caring, especially Cass my fav gentle giant☺️ also I’m so sorry this feels very boring/typical. I might take a break for a few days bc this slump is killing me.

warnings: slight angst

Slamming the front door an angry sigh escapes your lips. You head staright to your personal bedroom wanting space from your mates. If you saw anyone right now you might yell at them.

Not even bothering to take your boots off you flop on the bed face down. Grabbing your pillow you stuff your face into the feathery soft fabric letting out a blood curdling scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed until there was no air left in your lungs. Until your throat burned. Throwing the pillow as hard as you could against the headboard you flop back down on the bed.

Why are people so difficult to deal with? Today made you never want to speak with the governors or the general public ever again. You don't know if you just weren't communicating properly or what. But everyone was stupid and deserves to have a bad day. Not you.

After an hour of laying in bed you decided your throat was tortured enough and that cold water was necessary. Making your way down the stairs Nesta and Cassian's mixed scents hit you. It didn't calm you or anger you. You felt nothing but the exhaustion slowly creeping into your bones.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you open the cup cabinet. Frowning, you realize the glass you want is on a higher than usual self. Not feeling like asking Cassian to get it for you you strech up on your tip toes, grasping at the edge of the shelf. As your mind wandered to Cassian's usual teasing remarks about your height you get angrier.

The glass was just out of reach. Just a hair's breadth away from your finger tip. Your nail finally catches on the glass, bringing it forward. You finally grasp it with between your fingers and pull it down.

The glass slips from between your pointer finger and thumb. Your other hand reacts thanks to your fae reflexes, landing safely in your palm. You turn on your heel a little too quickly, sending the glass flying out of your grasp. It hits the wall shattering far too loudly.

Your hands go to cover your ears instantly. Tears pricking your eyes. You try to tune out the muffled sounds of Cassian and Nesta’s worried voices followed by their footsteps. Your face quickly contorted in anger. Angry at yourself. At the fucking glass. At your mates.

Your fingers tug at your hair in frustration. Your eyes are so clouded by tears you don’t even see Cassian in front of you. He gently takes your hands in his large ones. Slightly pressing his thumbs into your palms to lessen the death grip on the roots of your hair.

“Hey,” he coos, “what’s going on sweet pea?” You don’t look at him. Keeping your eyes down so you don’t break at the look of pity on their faces. Nesta hooks a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at them. The sad frowns on their lips broke you. The last thing you wanted to do today was upset or disappoint your mates.

Nesta took in a sharp breath at the projection of your feelings through the bond. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re not upset with you at all.” She wraps her arms tightly around your shoulders, swaying you gently. At Nesta’s loving embrace you break down. Sobs shaking your body.

Cassian smoothed your hair talking you through your tears. “I’m sorry.” You choked out repeatedly through your sobs. After hearing enough Cassian pulls you into his arms to carry you upstairs. Sitting you in his lap you continue to cry into his chest.

Nesta finally joins she has the glass of ice water you’ve been dying for. Just like Cassian taught her Nesta began massaging the pressure point on the back of your neck. She wanted to do everything to prevent your eventual headache.

When your tears finally stopped you took deep shaky breaths. They were coming too fast making the simple task difficult. Cassian laid you flat on the sheets to give you space. “Slow down, y/n. In for five and out for five.” He began to breathe with you until you finally calmed down. “Thank you,” you whisper.

You grabbed their hands so they can hold you up. Nesta hands you the water which you immediately gulp down. The cool liquid soothing your throat. Once it was empty Nesta took it from your hand. You lean into Cassian, resting your hand against his chest. Your fingers toy with the old fabric of his shirt to ground you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Nesta coos. You shake your head mumbling, “Just a bad day.” “Do you want to talk about it?” You sniffle and shake your head. “No. That cry was good enough, honestly.” A short humorless laugh escapes your lips. Cassian kisses the top of your head letting out a small hum in answer. “Let’s get you some dinner and relax, yeah?” You nod again. Cassian lifts you again, carrying you downstairs.