#tw implied abuse of power

[cubbihue]

Hi! this is kinda an art request if u dont mind. And it's angst related, can you draw like where wanda and cosmo obvs have seen for a while how (human) timmy has been treated by his real parents. I just want to see like the "last straw" which lead Cosmo and Wanda wanting them to make Timmy as their own. (IM HAPPY THAT TIMMY HAS A FAMILY THAT LOVES AND CARES FOR HIM)

The "Last Straw"?

Cosmo and Wanda have seen humans at their best. They've seen humans at their worst. They've seen anything and everything that they've gone numb and used to what humans get up to.

But nothing's shaken them quite like Timmy's case did. Nothing has ever made a Fairy feel such strong human emotions than what Timmy made them feel, on that one particular night.

The thing that broke Cosmo and Wanda was Timmy himself.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[michellemouse]

Brat being an amazing aunt /sarcasm

@lune-redd

[radio-writes]

Your Place in the Eyes of a God

Synopsis: You thought yourself oh so lucky that the demon who owned your soul was charming and kind.

Most people just had monsters ordering them about, at least your owner Alastor saw you as a lovely companion.

Warnings: Implied abusive relationship, power imbalance

Tags: Relationship can be read in any way; Alastor x Reader; gn!reader

MDNI

Being under contract, you weren't exactly overjoyed at the fact that you didn't own your own soul, but at least your contractor wasn't a monster, right? At least he was sweet, and funny, and charming.

And oh was he charming.

That is how your soul ended up chained to his after all.

He was always so kind to you. He treated you as if you were a friend—a person.

He had taken you out for meals; showed you off from time to time. He had adored every single gift you ever gave him. He had always asked you to smile because he just found you oh so

"Lovely," He said.

And it filled your head with clouds every single time. His soft compliments never failed to make you forget where you actually stood. 

So, you never really expected things to change so quickly. So drastically.

You desperately slapped your hands over your mouth, clasped tight against your lips to silence even the smallest whimpers that threatened to slip out. You pressed against the wall, hiding, maybe if even hoping that it would open up and swallow you whole. Take you some place else—anywhere else—but here.

You watched with wide, teary eyes, unable to look away.

It was hard for you to connect the charming man you fell for with the nightmare of a creature you saw looming over Husk. 

That thing that threatened to rip the poor man's soul apart couldn't possibly be your Alastor, right? There was no way that was your sweet, funny, charming Alastor. 

But those hands that yanked at the chain were unmistakably the same ones that gently combed through you hair at night. 

That smile he held while he threatened the man was unmistakably the same one you woke up sweetly to almost every morning.

That voice, albeit distorted more than usual by static, promising wicked acts, was unmistakably the same voice that softly greeted you good morning, asking if you had a good rest.

There was no mistake. There was no denying it. 

"Understood," You barely hear Husk's frightened response.

"Lovely," Alastor praised before he left Husk shaking on the ground by his feet.

You felt your heart sink immediately. 

Lovely. The word echoed in your head, your blood now ran cold.

Lovely. The mockery, the disdain, the obvious threat to obey him or else. You didn't think such a simple word could hold so much malice. 

"I can't wait to wear that new necklace you got for me!"

"I got you this tie because it just seemed like it was your style!"

"Of course, I'm smiling! I'm with you, aren't I?"

You didn't notice when your knees finally gave away under you. You didn't notice when you started crying. Your body simply crumpled to the floor as you continued to press your hands against your mouth, silencing the sobs that ripped through you. 

Alastor had already left. You didn't need to hide around the corner anymore. You were safe now. 

No. Have you ever truly been safe?

Because what was his response? What did he say every time you followed his requests? Every time you excitedly handed him whatever trinket you thought he'd like? Every time you smiled for him?

Lovely. The word rang in your ears.

Lovely.

It wasn't a compliment, you realized.

It was never a compliment. It was a praise. A praise for being such a good, obedient pet.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart, Chapter 8

18+, MDNI

Now on Ao3

All chapters

Things get explicit in this chapter. Yandere in full force.

TW dubcon, mental and emotional manipulation, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past SA.

Y/N POV

You heard Marco calling to you from the hallway. You didn’t know how he had found you, but he sounded angry. You came out of the closet and saw a cross Marco with his arms folded across his chest. You fought the urge to grovel immediately but did start pinching your fingers. You didn’t know what you did - but you’d do anything to get him to stop scowling at you.

“Y/N.”

“Hi Marco.”

“Why are you sleeping in the supply closet?”

“Oh. Um. I guess I just got sleepy and took a nap here? Sorry, it won’t happen again,” you said sheepishly.

“Wrong answer.”

“Ah, um…I don’t…I didn’t…um…” You floundered. Marco had never taken this kind of tone with you and you didn’t know what to do. You were starting to panic.

“Oh, Y/N, what are we going to do with you?” sighed Marco, putting his face in his hand and shaking it from side to side. “My brothers and I have really put ourselves out there for you. We saved you from the Marines, we brought you to our ship, we’ve helped you in so many ways. This is the thanks we get?”

“I am thankful! I really, really am! I’m so grateful for everything everyone has done.”

“It doesn’t feel that way. Why didn’t you tell me that you were having trouble sleeping? That you were sleeping in closets and cupboards? That you can’t sleep without your back to the wall? Do you think we can’t help you? That I can’t help you? That I’m not a good doctor? That I don’t care for my siblings? Is that what you think of us?”

“No! No, I just… Marco, please, I… j-just didn’t think it was import–”

“It IS important, Y/N. Why should we keep helping you if you don’t trust us?”

“I d-do trust you! I do!” you were close to crying from the tension radiating off Marco.

“I don’t know if we can continue to have someone on our ship that we can’t trust. That doesn’t trust us. I think our time together may have come to an end. I will inform Whitebeard on your behalf.” Marco turned his back to you and started to walk away.

You were bawling now, you didn’t want to leave the ship.You didn’t have anywhere else to go and if you left you’d have no one and and and…so you called out “wait, Marco!” Marco stopped, but didn’t turn towards you. You ran up to him and grabbed his hand from behind. He allowed you to take it but remained turned away from you.

“What, Y/N?”

“P-p-please, isn’t there anything I can d-do? T-t-to show that I t-trust you? I don’t wanna b-b-be k-k-kicked o-o-out, p-p-please..” you were sobbing so hard you couldn’t form words without stuttering. 

“Well,” he said, moving his head from side to side in thought “I suppose if you showed your trust in us..”

“P-p-please!”

“No more secrets, Y/N. You have to be completely honest with us.”

“O-of course, w-whatever you want to kn-know.” You were still crying but were starting to hope that Marco would forgive you.

“And since it seems you can’t take care of yourself properly, you need to surrender that task to us. You need to listen to us when we tell you what’s best for you. I’ll meet with my brothers and we can set some rules for you to follow so you can earn our trust.” You weren’t sure what that meant exactly, but you would have agreed to let him rip out and eat your still beating heart if he asked for it.

“Y-y-yes, ok, thank you M-Marco. Thank you.” You nuzzled his hand in thanks, trying to deepen your breathing.

He turned his body all the way towards you his expression softened. He cupped your face in both of his large hands. “I know you don’t mean to hurt us, Y/N. I want you to be our good girl, and I think you want that too, isn’t that right?”

You nodded your head up and down in his hands. 

“I know the perfect way you can start to earn back my trust.”

“H-how?” your crying had stopped but you were still hiccuping your words.

“Kiss.” he commanded and brought his lips crashing down on yours.

Ace POV

Ace had overheard an emotional conversation in the hallway and had cracked his door to see what was going on. He watched as Marco ordered you out of the closet and began speaking sternly to you. Ace’s eyes opened a little wider - he hadn’t known you were sleeping there. If he had found you in there, he’d have taken you straight to his bed. He decided to stay hidden and see what happened.

Listening to Marco talk to you was a masterclass in manipulation. Marco had maneuvered you so well, so easily and you hadn’t noticed a thing. Ace knew Marco wasn’t worried about your loyalty, but you sure didn’t. He had gambled on your insecurities and won the grand prize. Now they were all able to collect. Finally, they’d be able to have you in the way they had wanted. 

As he watched Marco kiss you in the moonlight and knew he’d be doing the same, and soon. You looked like a little angel, all breathless and submitting yourself willingly to Marco. He handled his growing bulge over his pants, fondling himself to your teary- eyed kiss. The scene was too hot for him to endure untouched, so he took his cock out and started slowly stroking himself from base to tip. He was leaking precum just from watching a kiss, like he was a teenager. He imagined it was himself kissing you, fondling you, getting to touch you. He pumped his cock a little bit faster as you started making small sounds from Marco’s hands traveling over your neck, shoulders, and down your front. He imagined the sounds you would make around his cock as you rode him, how he would bite your neck, suck on your nipples, give you marks to let everyone know he was there. That he would always be there. 

Y/N POV

Marco’s kiss was all encompassing. All you could think about were his lips as they expertly kissed your own. He had caught you off guard-  your mouth had been closed. He licked at the seam of your lips, wanting you to open. You opened your mouth slightly and he pushed his tongue inside. He was still holding you in place, kissing you at his pace. He was in control and was showing you what he wanted. You followed his lead, kissing him back. You wanted to show that you wanted this too, that you wanted them, that they didn’t need to get rid of you. You tried to pour all that emotion into your side of the kiss. 

When he stopped kissing your mouth and started feathering light kisses down the column of your neck. His hands were roaming all over you - your arms, neck, and starting to creep up your stomach. “Ah, Y/N, I knew you’d be worth the wait.” You couldn’t answer - your breath was coming in short gasps as his kisses trailed downwards. “Let’s go somewhere private - I wouldn’t want anyone else to enjoy the show yoi.” Marco cocked an eyebrow towards one of the open doors briefly but you didn’t see anyone.

With that, Marco threw you over his shoulder and took long strides to his room. Once in, he sat down on a loveseat and put you in his lap, facing him. “Come here, Y/N, show me how good you can be.” He began kissing you again, moving from your lips to your neck down to your collarbones. You started to let out small whimpers. You couldn’t help yourself - you knew you were incredibly wet. You started moving and grinding on Marco, hoping for some friction. 

Marco was kissing your shoulder, and had started putting his hand up the hem of your shirt, teasing your lower back with light touches. “Ah, wait. I don-” You tried to object. Kissing was one thing, but showing your back was another. No one had seen it in years, it was a source of deep shame and humiliation. You wanted to keep your shirt on for now.

“Y/N, this is the exact kind of thing we need to be working through,” Marco said with a frown. “I thought you had agreed to listen to us yoi,” he continued. He gripped you by the shoulders and stopped your movements on him. You realized belatedly you were grinding on his cock - and he was huge. There was no way it would ever fit…but you refocused back to the present. Your back? You gulped - was this what he needed from you? So he could trust you? You could do it, you thought, trying to gather your own courage. It was just skin, and he’d seen scars before.

Marco had changed the position of his hands, holding your thighs down to prohibit your rocking. “You can take it off” you said in a small voice, looking down at your lap. Marco flashed a smile at you as he raised your shirt off your body. 

You lifted your arms and Marco pulled it all the way off. He ran his hand over the middle of your back and paused. You hoped he would continue to tease and kiss you, but he just picked you up and faced you the other direction away from him so he could see your back better. He was examining it silently. You knew it had killed the feeling in the room from the way he was looking at it. He reached out a finger to touch the angry red, raised lines. He touched one and you hissed a little - they were extra sensitive lately. He just looked at you silently for a few moments. Marco didn’t say anything but sat you down next to him, off his lap.

You hung your head in shame. You couldn’t look at him. Not only had he seen your back, but you had disappointed him. He didn’t trust you. You had another crew’s logo on you. He didn’t want you anymore, he thought you were ruined. You were ruined, just like you were told. You were going to be sent back, discarded like the trash you were. You just waited for Marco to tell you to collect your things. 

‘Y/N, what is this yoi?” he said in a soft voice. He was being gentle with you, delicately touching parts of your scar that were less raised. 

“It’s old scar tissue, it’s healed now.”

“What’s it from?”

“Most of it is a branding from when I was on that pirate ship. They - they burned their jolly roger on me. Some of it is from a whipping the Marines gave me. Those are the more recent marks.”

“Why did they whip you?”

“Escape attempt.”

“Do they hurt yoi?”

All the questions were digging into your deepest sources of shame. You wanted to be strong but you started crying again.

“Y-yes. I think they don’t let me stretch my skin enough back there. It always feels tight. I’m not really sure, I try not to look at it.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m s-sorry M-m-marco. I really tr-tried to be g-good for y-you. I’m j-just r-ruined.”

“You’re not ruined, this wasn’t your fault,” he said absently as he continued gently touching your back. You couldn’t see, but you felt a pleasantly cool sensation along some of your scars. Was he trying to heal you? The flip between the harsh Marco of before to the sensual Marco to this soft Marco had you so confused. You didn’t know how he was going to take anything. You let him look in silence. He broke it by quietly asking “why did they brand you, not tattoo you?”

You gave him the answer you had been told, in a deadpan voice “Crew get tattoos, property gets branded.”

[strange-doll-child]

Ohh, boy, there's my toxic relationship ship again

[starryeyed-brainrot]

goddamn it.

[writeouswriter]

Last Line Tag

I was recently tagged by @multi-lefaiye and by @oh-no-another-idea, and by multiple others ages ago 😭, thank you!

I still haven't gotten much writing done yet so this is actually just the last line I wrote in my phone notes that has actual grammar, makes a modicum of sense without context and can't be explicitly traced to being [redacted] fanfiction, but is very much still [redacted] fanfiction, a rough version of the line as I'm still trying to work out how best to word it:

__

[Redacted] had always liked the snow, because it seemed to soften the edges of everything around him, muffling the harshness of reality, and giving the world a muted, dreamlike quality.

When it was snowing, the coldness in his mother’s voice was nothing in comparison to the cold outside.

When it was snowing, the burn of her cigarette was a welcome relief of warmth.

__

And tagging if you'd like: @udaberriwrites, @yoko-goto, @kirsten-is-writing, @xxxtosoxxx, @crazytechpersonzreal, @pierogipete, @druidx, @thethistlegirlwrites, @mary-is-writing, @anyone who wants to be tagged!

[honey-bell-aint-well]

Please don't tag as ship.

descent

I didn't intend this to look suggestive. So if it does, please ignore that.

Don't worry, this is only 60% vent art. The rest of it was me trying different brushes and adding details I thought would either look good or add layers to the picture.

[The thing around Killer's neck is a tentacle, not his shirt collar. Just in case anyone was wondering why the shirt collar looked strange.]

[I'm actually pretty proud of this drawing. But if I had to redo it, I would try to make it more obvious that Killer isn't enjoying this.]

[liliallowed]

small detective dust x crimson fic

detective dust by: @switchthedragon

trigger warning!

angst, implied toxic relationship ,self harm/suicide threats(but they're can still reset)

the wholesome side:

a somewhat healthy conclusion.

character development.

grieving and escaping a toxic cycle.

"ridde me this batman! who killed your brother? was it me or was it youuuuu?" they grinned at him with an eery smile holding a question sign, only to be met with dust's uncaring composed stone cold glance.

"man it's not even fun if it doesn't make you angry." they tossed the question mark sign away with a pout, feeling annoyed that they're not getting a reaction out of him. he's a tougher soul to crack that the nemesis they knew him as.

"you've changed you know. a lot... I liked the old you better. still I see a spark of determination in you hasn't faded... only changed trajectory. " they sighed.

"you know. it makes me wonder if I was just holding you back by staying here. maybe you would've just went away making a new life. helping people. stopping people from suffering the same fate as yourself." they paused.

"masquerading as some misunderstood hero... well we both know you're still a joker inside like I am."

he let out am amused chuckle. "and you... have gotten awfully soft. why would someone like you over compensate for their ego and their evilness if they had nothing to prove... almost like you're trying to convince YOURSELF you're as heartless as you want me to be... constantly. you sweet little hypocrite. you pretend you give me a choice for revenge but for you my forgivenessWAS never an option was it?<3."

their eyes widened for a moment before the frowned. the mask was for a brief moment slipping. they wanted to hug him. to tell him they were sorry. but the moment those thoughts came their response was a maniacal laughter.

were they EVER in a position to ALLOW THEMSELF to be forgiven? how selfish of them. how fucking dare they ask for his forgiveness how fucking dare they LET him do that. how dare they for a moment ALLOW themself to be fragile open and honest.

they glared at him eyes shining an alarming blood red glow.

"not everything revolves around you sans."

"neither does it for you. you're just the one in your own petty little bubble. don't get me wrong I never really forgave you... I just... moved on. you mean nothing to me now."

they fliched at those words. it hit a nerve. no more than that. it was aimed and precise at their fragile fear of abandonment. the center of their corrupted bloody soul.

"no. nononono... don't don't leave me. not again. not you too. I'll do anything you want I'll let you kill me I'll kill myself for you and revive. I'll endure anything PLEASE."

"you push people away. this is a result of your own stubbornness. don't expect others to want to stay around you when you treat them like you treat yourself. trash. and one does not justify the other. go find some other version of me. I don't care about you."

they froze. they couldn't breathe they couldn't hear anything else. their soul was flaring up cracks forming on it's surface from the sheer pressure.

for the first time in... an eternity... they felt like they wanted to cry again...

fear resentment anger... sadness. longing.

[gothamghostwhispers]

“You’re right… my father is watching… I know exactly what song I want present with him in mind”

Artem changes out what instrument they’re using. The salt crunching under their feet and the cage sways slightly as they move about.

“He didn't mean to scream

Then what does he mean?

I'm not who he thinks I am”

The congregation already seems restless hearing the opening but Micheal quiets them with a wave of his hand.

“Trapped in his anger, one way road

Familiar blood I hold alone

I won't be who he is

The apple's falling from the-

The apple's falling from the tree

But he's in the driver's-“

Artem changes instruments but they feel their head throb, lips in the crowd quietly muttering along as they project the complicated emotions surrounding their father. That makes sense. Everyone here probably has complicated feelings about their parents.

“The check engine light is blinking brighter

And I wasn't raised to be a fighter

But it only takes a spark to blow”

The recall the last time they saw their father as their dad. The confusion and betrayal.

“I won't be who he is

And I wasn't taught to tame the driver

Just how to delay the raging fire

That turn signal's ticking

Ticking, ticking

Ticking 'til (I will be who he is)

He's in the driver's seat

He's in the driver's seat”

Tears well up in their eyes and they’re not alone. Some of the ones not as effected, who can’t relate to the foreign feelings are starting to whisper to one another

“I am his rage

Inherit the engine and leak, no mistake

I am the warning

The blaring that won't let you sleep in peace”

Artem moves to the center of their gilded cage, pressure was building behind their eyes. Some who are mumbling along with the song are being shuffled out.

“I am his only

The little fist bruising the wheel and switching seats

I'm biting my own tongue”

As they take a deep breath for this emotional climax, the rage and disappointment and longing for connection- blood begins to trickle down their face.

“I am my father's lost son

He's in the driver's seat I won't be who he is

He's in the driver's seat I will be who he is

I'm in the driver's seat the apple's falling from the tree

I'm in the driver's seat the apple's falling from the tree”

As the song slows down, a different cocktail of emotions gets stirred. Fear and worry that they’ll fail as a parent and be like their father.

“I didn't mean to scream

Don't know what I mean

I'm not who you think I-“

Their blood drips onto their white dress and the salted floors and some of the members of the congregation seem to be excusing themselves. Ah… guess they weren’t ready to relate.

[hxperion]

//thinkin about how Jack spent so much resources into building angel's chambers and making it the most difficult thing to break in to. Like even if you get past the forcefield that kills you instantly you still have to make it past a lot of loader bots and constructors. which some one them have literal small nuclear war heads, installed as a weapon. Not mention to the BNK-3R fight which was a pain in it self and as he puts it, the weapon he personality created to defend the outside of the chambers. Furthermore he has a biosignature installed plus a voice recongizer where you gotta sound and be him to even enter her chambers. and once you in the chamber he has custom loader bots label as angelic guardians . Constantly being in there to defend against plus the shields he has on the Eridiumn injectors and Angel herself. Like this man did everything to keep his daughter prisoner. //

[gallusrostromegalus]

Further Rangiku thoughts, because this reappeared in my notes:

In AEIWAM, Rangiku is Captain of the 10th and Hitsugaya is her lieutenant. This is an arrangement that annoys everyone until they consider how much worse it would be the other way around.

---

The vast majority of Shinigami come into their spiritual prowess in late puberty or early adulthood, but Hitsugaya hit his at the equivalent of age eight, and worse, his zanpakuto is Hyorinmaru, a sword spirit that keeps re-incarnating in different psychics, pretty much all of whom have turned out to be immensely powerful and influential. Any dojo or military organization would consider it a massive boon to have the wielder of Hyorinmaru in their ranks. Any noble house would be thrilled to have him marry into the family. Others still think he'd make a fascinating lab subject. The fact that Hitsugaya is a child matters little to the benefits of abducting him, forcing him to marry, or worse.

So from the moment Hitsugaya first drew the dragon blade, there's been a target on his back.

He does have one thing going for him though: His Big Sister is already a shinigami, and during her first break home from the academy, Momo brings her new Upperclassman Bestie home to the farm to meet everyone.

It took Hitsugaya a few years to work out exactly WHAT that brief look of distress on Rangiku's face when they first met was, but once he did, her subsequent insistence that he come back with them for a little trip to the city "just so he can see the academy, and there's some people I'd like him to meet-" made an awful lot more sense. As did her then dragging him along on a "Ditch Day" to the city center to see the first division, then bull-rushing the guards and actually carrying him under her arm like a stolen piglet as she sprinted through the division until she got to the inner courtyards where an austere but refined old man was pouring himself a western-style afternoon tea.

"HI LIEUTENANT-CAPTAIN SASAKIBE SORRY TO INTERRUPT I'M RANGIKU MATSUOMOTO I WAS AT YOUR LECTURE ON ANOMALOUS ZANPAKUTO RIGHT BEFORE BREAK-" She bellowed, holding him up to the old man's face, where he was subjected to the Infamous Chojiro Sasakibe Glower Of Disapproval for the first time. "-THIS IS MY FRIEND'S LITTLE BROTHER TOSHIRO HITSUGAYA HE HAS HYORINMARU."

Sasakibe arched a skeptical brow at them, and set down his teacup.

"PLEASE SHOW HIM YOUR SWORD BEFORE I GET STABBED?" Rankigu prompted, lightly jiggling Toshiro to his senses.

Blankly, Toshiro held up the katana that had manifested in his room last month. Sasakibe leaned forward, glowering at the sword for a moment before his expression shifted to mild surprise and then a pleasant smile.

"...While I must recommend making an appointment in the future Miss Matsumoto, I must thank you for introducing us so promptly. Please, join me." Sasakibe gesture to the tea service set at the table.

"...Master Hitsugaya, was it?" he asked, and Toshiro nodded. "We've been expecting you."

---

Rangiku came to the farm every school break and nearly every weekend after that, bearing study guides and binders full of intelligence profiles and tutored both him and Momo, despite being in the final year at the academy and working on her graduation thesis. She reviewed historical data and survey methods with Momo, every Official Record coming with a bonus Rangiku Record of what a licentious, cruel, lying shithead every district Daimyo, governmental body or noble scion was. Toshiro developed an extreme suspicion of the bourgeoisie and government in short order.

You may enroll in the academy next year, if you like. Sasakibe had offered him at the end of the bewildering tea time. I cannot compel you, and I do not wish to frighten you, but I must be honest. They will come for you and the promise of Hyorinmaru sooner than later.

The first attempt came while walking to the train station to meet Momo and Rangiku.

It was January, and he was probably under-dressed for the weather, but at least the reason the cold never bothered him was a little clearer, and he was taking his time, looking at the way ice crystals had formed on the dead grasses and fenceposts during the previous night's hoarfrost.

"Excuse me young man?" Someone called out behind him. "Can you tell me how to get to the Hitsugaya Farmstead?"

He turned to look- there was a man in the road, dressed in the formal way one might expect a governmental agent to be, but with a notable lack of agency logo, something all legitimate agents were required to display per C46 Departmental Regulations, section 406- I've been studying momo's homework too hard.

-but FUCK this guy.

"Which one? There's like five Hitsugayas in my class alone." he lied.

"Oh, maybe you know him!" the man smiled, stepping closer, and Toshiro fought to not flinch. "I'm looking for Toshiro Hitsugaya- I'm with the Shin'o Academy, he's won a scholarship!"

The Hell And Fuck You Are. "Lucky bastard." he grumbled.

"You know him?" the definitely-fake-agent asked, stepping closer again, and Toshiro turned on his heel, walking towards the train station and waving for the man to follow. Rangiku was on the verge of inventing her own don't-get-groped-based marital art with her "Barmaid Ballet".

"Yeah, yeah- that Dweeb has all the luck. Come on, his house is kind of around the dogleg to the other side of that hill." Toshiro pointed across the valley.

"That's an awfully long way to walk to school for both of you." the man pouted, following him, again, slightly too close for comfort.

"Yeah, that's why I'm ditchin' it to go see The Carrion Crows play down in Inuka-I'll walk you to the station." Toshiro smirked. "There's a path along the river, but I wouldn't risk it in this weather- it's probably faster to get on the next train, take it two stops down to Hinamizawa Station, and then take the county line road back in for about four miles. It's longer as the crow flies, but they've for sure plowed that road by now."

"That's very naughty of you!" The man mock-scolded, speeding up enough that he was almost within arm's reach.

"What are you, my mom? Life's too short for Algebra!" Toshiro laughed, pivoting on his heel to face the man and take his shoulder out of grabbing range. "...probably explains why that nerd Toshiro is getting the scholarship and not me though."

"Not ditching. Lying." the man smirked down at him.

Shit. "Huh?" Toshiro glared, continuing to walk backwards towards the station and trying to keep his knees from shaking. Keep going- maybe Momo's train will get in early, or the stationmaster will hear if I start screaming.

"I have to admit, your ability to fabricate on your feet is very impressive- and bodes well for your future with our organization, Toshiro." the man leered, easily keeping up with him.

"Bruh." Toshiro rolled his eyes. "I dunno what you're on about, but I'm Jushiro. Toshiro lives way the fuck over there."

There was the briefest hesitation on the man's face. "Stop lying, there can't be that many little boys with white hair-"

"Dude, like half the people here have white hair." Toshiro gambled. Statistically speaking, the only other person this asshole had seen was Stationmatster Tanaka, who had gone prematurely silver. "The previous Daimyo was a DOG, Toshiro's probably my second or third cousin, like everybody else in this dump."

The man hesitated. It was a common enough phenomenon, and played to seireitei stereotypes about the middle districts. If he'd only seen Tanaka and only half-read the report, it'd be plausible enough-

"-I mean, if you really insist, I'm more than willing to take the scholarship money off your hands." Toshiro leered, taking the final bend before the train station. "Might be a bit of a problem when Toshiro doesn't show up at the academy bit that's not necessarily *your* problem, right?"

"What'd you say your surname was?" the man squinted.

"Ukitake." Toshiro said the first name that popped into his head. What the fuck. Do I even know an Ukitake?

The man stopped, glaring. "...Jushiro Ukitake? From the Gotei-13? Really?"

THAT'S WHOSE NAME I KNOW? FUCK. and this time, Toshiro couldn't hide the twitch of hesitation-

"GOTCHYA!" the man grinned, lunging for him-

Hands up to guard your head, drop on your side, and roll. Rangiku's Drill Voice echoed in his head as he sandbagged into the snow, the man flying over him.

Up on your fingers and toes, like you're at a track starting line. Whatever direction you're facing- Toshiro popped up again as stranger danger plunged into the snowbank behind him. He was oriented even before he was on his feet.

-RUN.

There was a POFF! as he took off sprinting, reiatsu surging in his legs. Even in his shitty straw sandals, he didn't slide, racing for the station, closing the quarter mile to the station- The man was behind him.

He was fast- too fast, even faster than Momo with her Shun'po technique.

Don't look- keep your eyes on your target. Rangiku mentally lectured him. Hopefully they're stupid and will swipe for you at a stride's length, and miss. If they're smart and close the distance to less than that, they won't miss, but you'll have an extra half-second to run and that may make all the difference.

"You're quick!" The man laughed, a stride behind Toshiro but not grabbing yet. "What, you think you'll be safe if you can get to the station? You think I won't just kill any witnesses?"

SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT-! Toshiro could feel his heart hammering in his chest-

"DROP!" Rangiku bellowed, her voice beautifully, wonderfully booming hard enough to make his ears ring. He obeyed instantly, catching the faintest glimpse of the red-and-white academy uniforms before he was buried in the snow. The man's hand plunged in after him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling up-

"Growl, Haineko."

"DON'T BREATHE TOSHIRO!" Momo screamed just before the scalding wave of reiatsu hit, just over his head, he could swear he felt some of his hair sizzle.

"You think some glitter is going to st-ulk?" The man began to laugh but then made a strange, unpleasantly wet noise, and Toshiro was dropped to the ground. He fell on his shoulder, hard, and rolled onto his back, clutching it in pain and looked up.

It was beautiful.

He'd seen something like it before- Diamond Dust, it was called, when it got truly, deeply, bone achingly cold and the valley fog froze into glittering crystals. This was different- a concentrated stream of shimmering prismatic shards, glittering with both reflected light and the mirage caused by the heat of the attack.

Behind him the man collapsed to the ground with a wet, hacking cough that didn't let up.

"TOSHIRO!!" Momo shrieked, tackling him and pulling him up into a defensive embrace, clinging as hard to him as he clung to her. "DON'T LOOK!"

Naturally, he turned to look.

It was also beautiful. The bright red dotted and spread across the snow like an ink wash over wet paper, the way his body had crumpled to the ground, already half-buried was like the peaks of the distant mountains over the clouds.

And while the sight would haunt him for the rest of his life, there was even something poetic about the way blood streamed from the man's face lacerated beyond recognition save for his mouth, which coughed more up like a fountain with each shuddering gasp.

Rangiku stepped up to the man and with a flick of her wrist, Haineko collapsed back into a sword, growing up from the hilt like hoarfrost building on the grasses. In an elegant motion, she turned the blade so it's tip pointed to the ground, and plunged it straight into the man's skull.

"Rest In Peace." She spoke, voice soft and expression distant.

"You- You killed him!" Momo gasped. "You don't even know who-"

"There's no treating acute pulmonary hemorrhages. That was kinder." she said, voice flat as she re-sheathed Haineko. "-and he's Onmitsukido."

"The- the punishment squad?" Momo's voice quavered.

"This is a real government agent's uniform, but there's no identification patch or badge." She said, kneeling in the snow and rummaging through the dead man's overcoat. after a moment, she pulled out an envelope with the cross-shaped symbol Toshiro witnessed from Momo's homework. "-Here's his letter of marque."

"Oh, GOD-!" Momo sobbed.

"I'll make the call in about the body, but I don't think he or your grandmother should stay at the farm anymore." Rangiku sighed, and placed her hand on Toshiro's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to grow up this fast."

Toshiro looked up, bewildered, to the saddest expression he would ever see on that woman's face.

...Until three months later, when the next attempt came.

---

Five years and eight more kidnapping attempts, three extortion attempts and one particularly nasty try at an assassination, Toshiro was about to enter his final year at the academy, and witness to a bizarre conversation.

The boy was walking back from the administration offices when he walked through a noxious cloud of cigarette smoke. He peered down through the banisters of the corridor's safety railing, about to holler that this was a terrible place for a smoke- the Headmaster and Captain-General was here today, and in a foul mood according to the front desk lady.

To his vast surprise, the person lighting up was the captain-general.

"-Look, I get it." Captain Isshin Shiba sighed, his own cigarette in hand as he leaned back against the wall next the Yamamoto. "It's a bad look, putting the kid in a division headed by a scion, especially after that incident with the Tsunyashiros last year-"

"Political fucking catastrophe you mean." Yamamoto grumbled, handing the lighter back to Shiba

"-but for fuck's sake, I don't fucking count. I forsook the clan head position when I swore my oath of office, and my sister makes fireworks for a living. We don't even have land holdings anymore!" Shiba groaned.

"I know that, you know that, the shitheads over at the Ise clan and the Central 46 know that, but the truth doesn't matter- only what they can argue in court." Yamamoto continued to grumble, which Toshiro was beginning to suspect was his default tone of voice. "-Komamura has an extremely secure division, is fond of young Hitsugaya and has trained others in bankai before."

"All my love to Sajin and if that's your final decision I'll abide by it but-" Shiba started.

"-but!" Yamamoto rolled his eyes.

"Be honest on two points: first, what's the worse catastrophe: duking it out in court with the shitheads, or losing Hitsugaya?" Isshin glared. "And second- is the seventh division REALLY more secure than the academy? Where we've already had a string of incidents?"

"Losing the boy, obviously." Yamamoto glared at Isshin. "-And if you can think of a safer place for him than within arm's reach of a fellow captain, I'd love to hear it."

"There isn't one. Koma-kun would kill and die for him." Isshin agreed. "...But how often is he actually going to BE within arm's reach? The Seventh needs to be staffed at all times but Komamura gets called out to handle intractable spirits and yokai every other week! The boy would be either going with him into the unsecured ass-end of nowhere, or guarded by Iba and- again, all my love to the man- but he's not punching in the same weight class as a captain."

Yamamoto continued to glare for a moment, before turning from Isshin and taking a drag on his own cigarette.

"What's your proposal then?" the old man sighed. "You're called to the field even more than Komamura."

Isshin Shiba inhaled, steadying himself, and then laid out his Proposal:

"Matsumoto."

Yamamoto squinted at Isshin for a moment. "-The one with..." he paused, searching for a word.

"-With the huge bazongas, yes." Isshin grimaced.

"...With Haineko, and begun bankai training herself?" Yamamoto bristled.

"Exactly! She's going to be captain-class sooner than later, and devoted to the boy- she was the one that foiled the first attempt on him! ...and set the Tsunyashiro assassin on fire last year." Isshin explained. "Lieutenant Yanagisawa is retiring next year and I'm promoting her to Lieutenant in his place. Even if I'm called to the field, she'll be on-site or if we're both called out, it'll be both of us with the boy on field missions. In this case he really WOULD be within arms reach of a captain-class shinigami at all times."

Yamamoto turned to face Shiba, and Toshiro couldn't see his face.

"Don't get me wrong, I'll take all the help I can get- the more eyes on Toshiro, the fewer chances for someone to grab him. And Komamura is definitely a better teacher than I am..." Isshin winced. "But I do honestly think the Tenth Division is going to be the better place for him to grow as a shinigami. Fewer traumatic interruptions, at any rate."

Yamamoto turned to look out at the courtyard and took another drag, thinking.

"Its poetic in a way. This whole mess is Otogawa's fault in the first place, you know." Yamamoto said, voice very nearly bordering on amusement. "So it really is the tenth's responsibility to handle."

Isshin perked up.

"I'll need to talk it over with Sasakibe and a few other people to make sure the ducks are all in line, and you need to put together a real proposal with a timetable, but you may have something." Yamamoto nodded.

"Thank you sir!" Shiba saluted. "Matsumoto will be very relieved to hear it!"

"Don't act like it's a sure thing- I still need the blessing of a dozen others- least of all, young Hitsugaya himself." Yamamoto waved.

"I'd prefer to work in the tenth, if that's okay?" Toshiro called down.

"MOTHERFUCKER! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE?" Isshin barked with surprise, arms flailing dramatically. Yamamoto turned and arched an overgrown eyebrow up at Hitsugaya.

"Long enough." Toshiro shrugged. "I feel like I should be mad that I'm being micromanaged behind my back..."

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT! Well. Kind of. I mean-" Isshin sputtered. "Look you might be the genius of your generation and the youngest shinigami to start Bankai training, but you're still a kid- You shouldn't HAVE to make these kind of calculations and maneuvers."

"Like I said, should be." Toshiro hummed. "Truth is, I'm scared. I don't sleep well most of the time. Everyone I meet is a rapid-fire game of spy vs spy bullshit."

He looked away from them as some pigeons took off from the roof, not bothering to hide the sharpness of his gaze- a flinch turned proper defensive maneuver.

"...I guess I'm glad to know someone's looking out for me, you know?" he sighed, giving them a weak half-smile.

"And you'd feel safer in Miss Matsumoto's company than someone else?" Yamamoto asked, voice even, studying him. "The other option I was considering was placing you in the fifth under captain Aizen and your adopted sister."

"Yeah, well..." Toshiro grimaced, scratching at the back of his head. "Look, Momo would fistfight God for me, and Komamura-taicho is really grounding to be around, but neither of them... It's hard to explain, but yeah, I'd feel safer with Rangiku. That's not my main concern though."

"Oh?" Yamamoto asked.

"I'm really, really glad for the Momos and Aizens and Komamuras of this world who keep it running smoothly, but Holy Moly, All Momo ever does in Rukongai Affairs is chase down other people's paperwork, and managing the intake queue of souls is worse because at least sometimes Momo gets to travel? I'd die of boredom before any assassin could get me." Hitsugaya admitted.

"Hollow patrols though? Those are interesting. You go places, you get to see the action, and yeah I know 99% of it is scheduling, but that's telling other people where to be when, not simpering after them for rice subsidy reports." Hitsugaya grinned. "I think- if Hyorinmaru and I weren't being chased all the time and I had the normal amount of pressure on me? I'd still be choosing the tenth to work in next year."

Yamamoto considered this for a moment, before slowly breaking into a wizened, almost draconic grin.

"Very well then. Keep your grades up, let the adults handle the opsec for now, and you'll serve in the tenth." Yamamoto agreed.

"Yes sir!" Hitsugaya Saluted, then jumped again as the warning bell for passing period rang out. "Uh, gotta go!"

"Good to have you on Kid!" Isshin called after him, laughing.

Statistics class was a lot easier that afternoon, with some of his fears lifted.

---

It was five years after that and pouring rain in the late autumn evening, which had cancelled Lieutenant Matsumoto's plans to go boozing with her friends and twentieth-seat Hitsugaya's plans so visit Momo had been cancelled by her- the fifth needed her to do overtime AGAIN, so they were hanging out in one of the covered corridors in the courtyard. Rangiku had badgerd Toshiro into getting her a mug of hot tea, even though it wasn't really cold.

Foul night, but a good one for sharing foul news at least. Like the first abduction attempt on Toshiro in ages.

"-Don't worry about it okay? He didn't even make it into the Seireitei." Rangiku pouted. "I wouldn't bother you with it, except that I remember what a fit you threw when you found out captain Shiba hadn't told you about that court case."

"I- who was this one even working for? You said most of the agencies and clans had given up on me after I became a seated officer." Toshiro stared. "-And how do you even know if he never got close?

"Some fort of Sword-based cult that thinks a bunch of the great swords like Hyorinmaru and Ryujin Jakka need to be taken from the impure hands of the shinigami for some greater purpose, apparently?" she scoffed, shrugging. "...can't call this one great detective work on my part though. The idiot actually walked up to me at the inn during the last SWA Field Trip and offered me money for a chance to 'just talk' to you."

"Oh my goooooood..." Toshiro groaned. "Wait. How much?"

"He did offer me a whopping five thousand kan for an audience alone with you." She nodded, mocking a somber attitude. "-But my loyalty to you is unwavering, and though it pained me, I resisted the temptation of such a great windfall!"

"...five grand? That's barely a week's worth of groceries here?" Hitsugaya glared with disgust.

"I know right? Like I know I look like a whore but I'm starting to worry I look CHEAP!" Rangiku huffed. "Anyway Soi Fon had him hauled off for trial as soon as I stopped laughing so hard I couldn't speak."

"Oh, he got off easy then!" Toshiro sighed with genuine relief.

"Yeah, apparently he didn't see me at first and almost made that offer to Unohana-sama instead." Rangiku shuddered.

"Oof." Toshiro grimaced, trying to not imagine the awful fate the man might have befallen at the chief medic's hands. "Still. Thanks. It's good to know that no news really is good news." he sighed, leaning back against the wall where they were sitting on the floor and sighing.

"So, you're not going to worry, right?" She demanded, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Augh! No!" He yelped, swatting her hand away. "I won't, okay? You don't need to baby me all the time."

"I really do." She smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes.

Not quite sure what to say, he turned his face away and they sat together in silence for a time, listening to the rain.

"...why do you 'have to' baby me?" he eventually asked, not quite turning to face Rangiku, but watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Were you like, given a secret assignment or something?"

"Hm? No, nothing like that." She shrugged, but didn't immediately answer his question.

"...Have you ever owed someone a favor you can't pay back?" She spoke up after taking a long drink of tea.

"...Sorta." Toshiro admitted. "Kinda sucks."

"Yeah. Kinda does." She nodded, gaze fixed on some distant point, unable to face him.

"I... I wasn't a lot older than you were when I came into my powers and started to be able to hear Haineko. You might have outstripped me already but I'm no slouch, okay? And in the upper districts, you kill ONE hollow and the world and his wife is hammering down your door for help. And I remember what it's like, feeling like you're responsible for everything, that you don't have the option to say no, or someone will die." She sighed. "-That was bad enough, but then word really got around and. You remember the Tsunyashiro attempt?"

"Hard to forget seeing a man engulfed in flames." Toshiro winced. "Not that it's my place to criticize the captain-general, but maybe you could work on an ability for Haineko that isn't quite so catastrophic BEFORE you work on Bankai?"

"I swear, we're not usually that, um, Volatile. But that time I was... angry doesn't cover it. Livid." Rangiku laughed darkly. "You know why he wanted you, right?"

"He was going to forcibly adopt me into the clan to advance their reputation, right?" Toshiro blinked, confused.

Rangiku's pained grimace struck him harder than an actual backhand would have.

"...No. He was intending to forcibly MARRY you into the clan, to advance their bloodline." she sighed.

"He'd be waiting a while for an heir." Toshiro scoffed.

"No. They have. Ways. of achieving their ends." she groaned, rubbing her face. "I won't go into the specifics, but the fact that you're a kid would not have stopped them from torturing an heir out of you."

"...oh." Toshiro mumbled.

They listened to the rain for a while longer. Rangiku didn't remove the hand over her eyes, mug of tea growing cold on the floor in from of her.

"You know that because... Because you were a kid too." Toshiro realized with a cold horror creeping up his spine.

Rangiku nodded, teeth bared in something between a sob and a snarl.

He stared for a moment, before shuffling closer to her and leaning into her side. She wrapped her free arm around him, scooping him up into a hug and burying her face in his shoulder.

"It's okay! I'm okay!" he tried to reassure her, and she sobbed, trying to muffle the sound with his body.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped. "I'm sorry world is still like this! I'm sorry that you need to- to- that we haven't made anything better!"

"It IS better!" He snapped, shaking her shoulders. "You did a really good job! I'm untouchable because of you!"

Rangiku sobbed again, but hugged him tighter. "You get it though? Why I have to baby you? I'll never be able to pay it back, but I can at least pay it forward?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it." he mumbled. "...thank you, Rangiku."

He let her cry into his shoulder for a few more minutes, before she straightened up with a loud and unladylike sniffle, wiping her nose on her sleeve before Toshiro groaned, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Thangs." She mumbled, face flushed and snotty from genuine catharsis. "You're a good kid."

"You're a good guardian?" he tried and she coughed a wet laugh into the cloth, rubbing her face until she could speak again.

"Right! That was too much emotional vulnerability for one day!" She declared, sitting up. "Let's go find Captain Shiba and bully him into getting us dessert somewhere!"

"There's seasonal chestnut manju and persimmon yokan at the tea shop down the road." Toshiro offered, letting her use him as a crutch to get up off the floor.

"IDEAL." She grinned, back to her usual good humor. "Oh CAAAAAAAPTAIN~!" she called.

---

Twenty-six years after that, Rangiku stood over Ichimaru Gin, Haineko's point at his throat, whole body shaking with rage but her hands steady as a rock.

"Come on Ran-Chan, you're not really angry. You'd kill me if you were really angry." Gin smiled fondly up at her.

"The only reason you're alive is that killing you would be letting you get off easy." she snarled.

"You have no idea..." he chuckled and she pressed against his reiatsu barrier, blade nicking his skin and drawing a trickle of blood. "So, this is how it ends? After all we've been through together-"

"I don't owe you." she growled, pressing the point into his neck a bit more.

"Really? That's all our friendship was to you? Debt?" Gin pouted.

"That's all it ever was, me constantly feeling like I owed you happiness for what you did for me." her voice was barely above a whisper, pale silver-blue eyes gone white with rage. "-And the whole time, you were running up the tab from hell behind my back."

"-and who did you pay the debt forward onto, huh?" Gin wriggled, starting to worry that he wasn't gong to win this argument. "Who owes you the way you owe me?"

"Nobody. I never owed you, and he doesn't owe me. It's just being human." she whispered,leaning her whole weight into the blade. "Something I think you don't know a damn thing about."

Gin opened his mouth the protest, inhaling deeply, the opportunity she'd been waiting for-

"GROWL, HAINEKO."

---

so Rangiku's Bankai is named Haineko Asama, and since Haineko means "ash cat" and Mount Asama is a volcano in Japan, does that mean her Bankai can create a pyroclastic cloud? Or does "asama" mean something else in this context?

Got in in one!

Haineko: Asama is a Bankai that creates a Vesuvius-like eruption of 1,000 °C (1,800 °F) Hot Gases and Burning Tephra and a REALLY FUCKING LOUD KABOOM. The Pyroclastic cloud can travel up to 430mph and destroys everything in it's path- opponents closer to the epicenter are the luckier ones- the sheer kinetic energy for the explosion incinerates them immediately. Those farther away may find their bodies punctured with molten shrapnel, crushed by flying boulders, or suffocated and cooked alive as they are encased in ash like the victims of Vesuvius.

It's not an easy Bankai- the energy output is catastrophic, and the longer the 'Eruption' goes on, the greater Rangiku's risk of falling into a coma or straight-up dying from expending too much energy increases. It's also not an easy Bankai to train- For a while, Rangiku wasn't 'wielding' her Bankai so much as just 'releasing' it and learning about the damage when she woke up a week later.

In the end, the ONLY person who could help her with training Asama was Yamamoto himself, because of his Literally Divine resistance to fire, and a millennium's worth of practice at dodging to deal with the rocks and ash. He had to take her out to the ass-end of nowhere in South 80 to find somewhere deserted enough to practice without mass causalities, and the practice STILL effected the weather in the rest of Soul Society. He still spent almost a month in the 4th after they returned from The Year With No Summer, getting the burns, lung damage and broken bones treated, while he waited for his pupil to wake up again.

Yamamoto is now Very Fond of Rangiku because she's the first person in a LONG time that proved to be an actual challenge for him as an opponent, was an interesting student to teach and the first person to even begin to comprehend the problems he faces as an Avatar of Destruction.

Like most Volcanoes, Rangiku spends a lot of time sleeping. Nobody who knows what she's capable of when she 'awakens' complains about her nap schedule.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Yandere batfam or justice league with a reader who’s afraid of strong people/men due to a past abusive relationship? She never wants to feel that powerless and weak again so she actively avoids interacting with anyone stronger, bigger, taller any more than necessary. She doesn’t hold it against other ppl she just has a lot of trauma that she’d rather not work through and feel safe in her little bubble

Hit me Hard and Soft

Synopsis: You get saved by Robin, but not everything is as it seems.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: All characters aged up, of course; Mentions and descriptions of violence, including physical, psychological, sexual and financial abuse, and Damian fighting criminals (I'm particularly proud of the action scene I wrote); Drugging and being unconscious; Mentions of death of minor characters and suicide; Mentions of past grooming (Reader's ex) and age gap (Reader’s ex, Reader X Bruce, and the batboys age is not mentioned); Implied stalking; Mentions of kidnapping; Reader's very traumatized and weary of everyone; Reader doesn't trust the police; Mention of a panic attack and descriptions of actual panic; Guns and knifes; Mention of cigarettes; Implied needles; English isn't my 1st language.

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Wish I had more interactions between Reader and the batboys here, but I'm more than willing to make a part 2 with the right idea.

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

He's back again. You wish you could say you didn't know why he always came back, but you did. The food wasn't that great and it wasn't that close to where he told you he worked or lived. It also didn't help that he always made sure to be served by you. And that he flirted with you.

— Evening, (N/N)! Is there something as sweet as you on today’s menu? — You gave a small and polite laugh.

— Strawberry pie… As always…

It was kinda sad, but mostly scary. If it wasn't for your ex, you would be thrilled to have gotten the attention of Dick fucking Grayson. The whole city knew he was handsome, rich, talented and charismatic. Gotham's sweetheart, Gotham's golden boy. And from your daily interactions, he lived up to the expectations. He was polite even when flirting with you and asking you out. Yet, something held you back.

— Nice! Since you get out in a few, why don't you bring in two slices? One for me and one for you, it's on me, of course. — You shook your head quickly, with an empty heart, just wanting to get away from him as fast as possible.

You were with your ex since you were 17 to 26. Almost 10 years wasted on a dirtbag. He convinced you to leave your friends, to leave your family, to leave your job. As soon as you started living together, you were completely dependent on him. Sometimes you blamed him, sometimes yourself, sometimes the people you had around you, but back then, where you came from, people weren't questioning the imbalance of powers between a 17 year old highschooler with no job and a 23 year old man with a steady job and living alone.

He convinced you that going to college and ending your relationship was the worst decision you could take. Then, that you didn't need your family, he could take care of you. One day, he decided you couldn't have friends.

He often locked you inside the house, cursed your skills and appearance, neglected your overall health, intimidated you, screamed at you, broke your things that he did and didn't pay for. He hurt you physically, even sexually. You knew both dating him and leaving him was hard, you just expected living with the scars was going to be easier.

And it was! You decided to run away from him and to Gotham when you received the news that your mom died and he didn't even want to let you go to the funeral. The grieving made you reflexive and you realized how shitty your situation was. For years you just thought that it would eventually get better, that you just needed to be strong, that he showed he loved you when he wasn't being an asshole, that you couldn't get anything better, that he made you feel special.

You couldn't even go to the police, he was a cop, you knew the chances that in any scenario you would lose. So you ran.

You knew it was dangerous, but you had nothing to lose. If he didn't kill you, you would do it yourself. You made a plan, drugged him, took some of his money, used his house keys, left everything behind for the second time in your life. You didn't waste time asking for help from the people you knew. You took the bus and went as far away as you could.

Your paranoia was so bad that for almost a year, you would settle in a city, work to save up enough, and leave again, rinse and repeat. Eventually, Gotham seemed big and far enough to go by unnoticed.

Or that's what you thought, until Dick Grayson stopped by the diner you worked to have breakfast before going to work, as a cop, and decided you caught his attention.

Since then, he came back everyday. Either breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just to hang out with some family member, usually one of his brothers, his dad appeared with him sometimes too. Your boss loved the attention Bruce and Tim attracted, the two most media active ones, since they both led Wayne Enterprises.

Eventually, even them started appearing multiple times a week. You thought you were healing, until you found yourself crying for almost four hours at home in a panic attack.

You didn't want their attention. Not only was it weird, but they were just so… Superior to you.

They were all taller, more muscular, faster, smarter, richer. It was like reliving the beginning of your relationship at 17, plus 10 times worse. Five because they were five people mirroring your ex, and more five just because of your trauma, experience, negativity and lack of naiveness.

Also, why were they ALL into you??? And they were aware of it! It was weird! Why??

Bruce Wayne was disarmingly charming in his dilf way. Dick was surprisingly accessible. Jason was soft spoken despite his resting bitch face and leather jacket. Tim was cute in a nerdy way. Damian almost made you laugh with his sarcastic humor.

Either way, you never wanted to feel as little as you felt before, so you just did your job, acted polite, but ultimately kept your distance.

Freedom has its difficulties, one of them being that you need money, and for money, you need a job, which means sometimes you have to stay until closing time, at 11 PM, in Gotham.

You're not the only employee to stay so late, but you and your co-worker live in opposite directions, so walking alone it is. They're taking the bus, but you only live two blocks away, so you gulp down your anxiety and keep walking. One hand on your pocket, holding your taser firmly, and keeping your head up, turning to look at every sound.

It's cold, and the street is empty and dimly lit. Some places are so dark that you wonder why you're even paying taxes if the streetlamps won't work.

Two men turn the corner a few meters in front of you, one at least a foot taller, the other, two inches max. They're wearing hoodies and their hands are on their pockets, the light behind them creates a shadow that doesn't allow you to see their faces, nor where they're looking at, but they are coming in your direction.

There's a car, parked between you both. Some people might think at this point it's just paranoia, but you’ve heard stories of people walking next to cars, getting pulled inside by someone who was hiding in there, and getting kidnapped.

Your first instinct is flight, so you turn around, ready to run, even if you look weird in case those guys weren't planning to do anything with you, just to see other two guys emerging from the other corner, those two almost as tall as that first guy. Aside from the smaller one, they're all broad, even with their thick clothes covering them.

One of them has a cigarette on his mouth, which he throws on the ground when you turn your attention to him. Your fear might have caused you to hallucinate, but you're almost sure he's smirking.

You freeze for a second, your only escape is to run to the side, and pray their long legs don't get to you first. You think you hear one of them start hollering at you.

You only take a step to the side, when a loud crash startles you so hard that you have to look behind, while walking backwards to the street. You take a second to process the sight.

Robin is standing in the middle, just a few steps behind where you were standing a second ago. He's at least half a foot taller than all of them, and a lot broader. He's holding the tall one by his neck with his right hand, repeatedly hitting his head against the car’s window.

You're shell shocked, torn between staying put to watch this disaster, as interesting as a car crash, or running away. Gotham is so big that you never thought you would encounter one of its heroes, you weren't sure if you even wanted to.

When the guy seems to stop moving, Robin throws him against one of the other tall ones, the guy practically flies across 2 meters before hitting him, and when he does, they both fall to the ground. You remember all the times when your ex pushed you to the ground.

Your eyes are wide, horrified, watching the shortest guy take a pocket knife out of his pocket. Your throat locks, even if you want to scream for Robin to turn around, you only manage to stare and stay in place, however, the vigilant turns halfway around just in time to grab the guy by his wrist and his arm, just as he launched to stab him. He uses his body’s impulse to push the guy forward, the knife going to the fourth guy's shoulder, you hadn't even seen him get so close to him.

You look at the man from the car, he's still unconscious, the one who got tackled with him, however, is already standing and walking to the fight.

Everything’s happening too fast, you turn to the side to see the guy with the knife on his back on the ground, groaning and twitching in pain, while Robin is punching the shit out of the other guy, movements faster than you could ever dream of achieving. You remember being on the receiving end of someone's fists before.

With a final elbow to the cheek, the guy stumbles to the ground, you don't know what level of consciousness he’s in, by his posture before, you knew he was already compromised since the first hits he took.

Robin doesn't move, doesn't even turn to look at the guy who just fell, he's just looking forward, and when you notice this, you look at the remaining guy.

He's pointing a gun at him.

You don't think you can watch someone get shot in front of you, and you know if he gets rid of Robin, it's over for you. Logically, you knew these vigilantes somehow never die, still, it's counterintuitive to think he won't.

And he doesn't, in the blink of an eye, Robin's on the air, his right boot kicking the gun away, while still on the air, he wraps his legs around the guy's head, bends backwards, puts his hands on the ground, then launches his whole body to the front, the guy getting thrown over him. He falls to the ground, Robin stands on top of him with perfect balance. You don't even have time to process what just happened, the coolest and scariest thing you saw your whole life, when Robin punches him one last time. Now, he's definitely unconscious.

You’ve felt like a bystander this whole interaction, it felt like ages, but in reality all of this couldn't have taken more than 20 seconds, maybe even less than 15. You don't know what to do now. You're theoretically safe, but Robin’s still too big, too strong, too fast. He knocked out four guys without getting touched a single time. He broke a car's window. He threw around two guys who weighed at least 80kg. He's not even panting. And now he's looking at you.

A whimper gets stuck in your throat. You don't know if you should thank him, stay silent, or yell at him to stay away from you. When he takes a step in your direction, your instincts get the better of you and you turn around, running.

You hear him call your name, although your brain doesn't process it. You see headlights and look towards it. It's a car. You don't trust you’ll get help, but at least you're not alone. You run in it's direction, waving your arms and screaming bloody murder.

The car almost hits you, but you don’t process that until the last minute, but you get tackled to the ground just in time by the hero from before. You scream again, he's too close. Now, he's trying to hold you down. You keep screaming and trying to escape. You look to the side and the car just kept driving away, likely the driver wouldn't stay behind to be another victim to Robin's hands. You know you're not being rational right now, those guys are known for helping people, he just saved you, he's still trying to stop you from getting hurt, but you're scared. You've been scared since you were a teenager.

Your eyes burn, your arms and throat hurt, but adrenaline doesn't let you feel anything. Not even the invasion of a needle on your side.

— Was it really necessary? — Tim deadpans Damian, who growls.

— You would have done the same, Drake.

— No, I wouldn't. You were supposed to use the psychological first aid approach and (Y/N) would've calmed down and trust us more in the future. But of course, you never use your brain. — Damian growls, stepping towards Tim, but he is stopped by Dick’s hand resting on his chest.

— Damian, calm down, Tim’s right. You knew better than to sedate them. You knew of (Y/N)’s trauma and you knew the route we wanted to take. — Damian's brows furrowed and he crossed his arms.

— I knew your feelings toward (Y/N) would make you become impulsive again. — Tim looked at Bruce, who was silent, with hands intertwined and elbows on the table, focused on your vitals on the screen and the sight of you laid on the bed on the medbay. — Will you now consider just letting you, me and Dick keep an eye on them during patrol? — Damian and Jason scoffed.

— Why you aiming at me now? It was the demon who gave that guy brain death! — Jason protested and Tim looked at him.

— Just to be sure you won't freak out like him and kill thrice as many people, on purpose this time. — Jason glared at him.

— B, you better add more security measures around (Y/N), before Timbo tries to clone them or something. — He muttered with snark.

Dick shook his head and sighed, going to stand on Bruce's side, crossing his arms and looking at you through the camera with him.

— What's the plan now, B? They're probably waking up soon. — Bruce hummed, relaxing his stance and resting his back against his chair. The silence lingered for a few seconds, everyone just looking at you, waiting for the oldest’s opinion.

Bruce turned around, looking at them.

— … Damian, Tim's right. You were impulsive today and you killed someone, even if it was an accident. I stopped expecting that from you since you were 12, you're an adult now. You not only broke our trust, but (Y/N)’s already shattered trust. They need to know they're safe with us, and drugging them, instead of puting to use more time and effort to bring the comfort to them, is not going to do that. You weren't much different than the man who hurt them tonight. — His father's words were like a punch to Damian's stomach, leaving him speechless. Dick pursed his lips, not turning around as to make it easier to not comfort his brother just yet. Bruce turned to Tim. — Tim, I understand you want to take measures seriously. But you need to give Jason a chance. That was unasked for. — The mentioned blinked, still unacostummed with the treatment he received from his dad when he followed his rules. Tim looked away. Bruce turned to Damian again. — Damian, no patrolling around (Y/N) until you prove we can trust your temper again. — He waited for a confirmation, which came with a sneered lip.

— Yes, father.

Dick looked back a Bruce.

— What about (Y/N)? — He bit his lips. Bruce hummed, turning to look at the monitor again.

— … What do you all think?

— Well… Damian said their name, they might not remember it, but they can't just wake up at home. They’d try to flee from us. We could bring them home earlier, but our ideal plan was to make them come willingly, in the period of at least two years, in the best case. We could leave them at the hospital, and just keep our plan going. — Dick listed the possible strategies they could take. Bruce hummed.

Tim piped up.

— I already altered their phone's algorithm to send the job application as my assistant at Wayne Enterprises to them. And the Wayne Foundation’s application for the internship at Gotham Uni. — Bruce nodded.

— Damian? What do you understand about that? — It was clearly the beginning of his test.

— The more secure in their independence they feel, the easier it is to heal and open themselves up to new opportunities. — Damian exclaimed with confidence. Bruce nodded.

— Jason, are you still interested in college? — Everyone looked at Jason surprised, he was also surprised, he hadn't talked to Bruce about college since before he died.

It took a few seconds to processes what it would mean.

— Uh… I think so?! — Bruce nodded.

— What about me, father? — Damian spoke inquisitively. — I also want more opportunities to get closer to (Y/N)! — Bruce narrowed his eyes at him.

— We will think about that when you're in the clear.

— But-

— That's final. You reap what you sow. — Damian huffed and nodded begrudgingly. — … Now, since Robin was the one to save them, take the batmobile and leave them in the hospital. Then come straight back home. Understood? — Damian clenched his jaw and nodded silently, leaving to get your unconscious body.

Moments later, when you were both out, on the way to the hospital, Tim fiddled with the computer, the scream showed the batmobile’s tracker, your tracker, Damian's tracker, Damian's contact lenses’s camera and the car’s camera. They all looked at him.

— … It's just to make sure…

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[lirotation]

Spawn Astarion X F!Tav fluff. Post game, on the journey to find a cure. Very much self-indulgent🤣. tw: there is one panel that implied sexual abuse.

This script was written for smut. Then after the whole deal with my cuddle chemical addition comic, I lost my desire to draw smut lol. Through numerous revisions, I transformed it into what you see now, admittedly, I wasn't entirely satisfied with it and considered abandoning midway. Then, last week, Hurricane Beryl struck. We were without power and internet for three days and four nights. Our small generator kept us going and, crucially, kept our iPads charged. With little else to do, I finished this. I hope you enjoyed.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, abuse of power, misogyny, age difference, humiliation, degradation

fem reader

Thinking about the old-fashioned boss in his mid-fifties and the tight new intern.

It started out small, backrubs and head massages—he made you one of his personal assistants on day one. You thought he was just eccentric—you didn’t think the entire office was a complete madhouse. But here you are, only a week later. Dressed in nothing but black heels and a bowtie, sucking his fat cock as he enjoyed the view of the city with a neat glass of scotch between his fingers. His other large hand, heavy with big clunky rings and a massive watch, stays on your head even as his other employees come in to discuss contracts and signatures.

He doesn’t give you the benefit of pretending you aren’t there, speaking freely about you in the most degrading fashion. “She’s a keeper, this one—submissive throat that knows to shut up when the men are talking. A perfect addition to the female staff.”

In board meetings, you’re on his lap with a ballgag. He squeezes your tit and pinches your nipple like it’s a stress ball—cock deep inside your tight cunt, keeping warm and wet. All the other members each bring their own pets—some even walk them in on all fours, using their silk ties as a leash. Sometimes, they switch with each other, but your boss sticks with you. And when they’re all gone, he sprawls you on the glass table and fucks you into a sweaty mess on top of all the important documents.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Toji, Kenjaku, Higuruma ♡ AOT – Levi, Erwin, Zeke

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[liliesdiary]

this is so Anakin I'm obsessed

stung twice

minors dni 18+

word count: 0.4k | character(s): anakin skywalker x gn!reader

warnings: dead dove do not eat, starts out as me talking, anakin willingly putting you through pain to get what he wants, no impact play but making a venomous thing sting you and turning it into something sexually satisfying, insect, power imbalance might constitute as abuse so i'm tagging the tw, no use of y/n, implied smut.

Thinking about Anakin and his fucked up sexual deviancy. How he yearns to inflict pain upon those that have hurt him. I had an idea of him thinking— for some reason— you’ve lied to him. He just gets the inkling he can’t shake. You’re outside with him and his knowledge of insects gives him an idea when he spots something familiar. Big hand cups a tree branch, curling into itself, coming to pinch the little creature by its thorax between his fingers. Obviously, you stare at him questioningly, and he clutches your elbow. It's a harsh grip, and he meets your eyes with that severe glare of his. “You know what this is?”

Your brows furrow at the sight of the bright orange insect squirm in Anakin's hold. “Mm-mm.” you reply uneasily, shying away as he brings it towards you. The unsettling contraction of its furry body becomes clear in your view.

“It's a Velvet Ant. Their sting is nothing short of excruciating.” he muses. The three fingers unoccupied by the bug, is used to brush your robing aside to expose your upper arm. One of its legs scrape your skin when it tries to gain traction. It’s a fat for a flimsy creature, almost an inch long, and you’re already nervous. Anakin inspects him, “Angry little thing, isn’t he?” That disturbing gaze flickers to you to let you know it’s not the only thing angry around here. “Tell me what I want to know," that grasp on your elbow condenses as you instinctively recoil, in response he jerks you closer to him until you brace yourself against his chest. "or I’ll let him take his anger out on you.” the warning emphasized as he draws the insect to your skin, at the ready.

Incredulously, you protest, “Ani, this is ridiculous. I'm being serious—” but he is resolute. The tip of its abdomen grates against you, and Anakin allows its ovipositor to pierce you. The famed fire shooting through your veins like lightning.

In the end, you are keeping something from him. Yet he feels his dick twitch from watching you writhe in pain, and in a moment of mercy, he fucks you through it. As his way of showing you he’s sorry for having to do this to you, and hopefully giving you a little peace of mind in your misery.