#you don't realize how out of it you are until you're back in it man

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, graphic violence, injuries, physical torture, Guns, ❗ some graphic harm happens to reader so read with caution❗ dreykov needs his own warning, possible ooc,

Part 22: bandaids don’t fix

🔹🔹🔹

it’s been seven hours according to your guestimate since you were taken.

you’d been sleeping not so peacefully in the bunks with the others when they’d come, one moment the bunker was relatively quiet. only the sound of mountain wind howling outside and the occasional shuffling of sheets. the next, shots were being fired into the dark room.

you don’t have time to fight back, you don’t even have time to kick the sheets off your body or pull on the shackles keeping you locked to the bed when something slams into the side of your head and something sharp jams painfully into your under arm pulse point.

now after gradually coming to and realizing you’re somewhere unknown, grey concrete everything, floor, walls, ceiling. The only things in the room are a metal table against one wall covered in a sheet, the bolted down rusty steel chair you're occupying, and yourself. No sound at all except your haggard breathing and the occasional groan of aged steel walls shifting in the wind. you’ve tried to take stock of yourself. blurred vision, trailing spots as your head turns, so a concussion. blood trickles and sticks in your shirt uncomfortably from the needle piercing your skin too roughly, your wrists and ankles are tied to the chair so tightly that you know you’ll suffer nerve damage if you live through this much longer, you could lose something If you make it through the day.

A dim light sways ever so slightly overhead, the yellow circle of light around you swirling in a maddening dance that's just distracting enough to keep you aware of the passing time. The light flickers ever so slightly before the rusted steel door swings open with a loud grinding creak. The bottom of it scraping against the floor as four masked people walk in, all of them armed and focused on you.

”How's your head feeling? You took a solid blow.” one speaks- his Russian thick and over pronounced- you can hear the satisfied curl in his upper lip as he mocks you.

You say nothing, only stare at them as they circle you like wolves.

The one behind you leans over your back, chest pressing against the back of your neck uncomfortably as he slowly grabs one of your fingers, your ring finger, and then jerks his hand back. The hand you thought you'd lost feeling in buzzes with heat and sparks of sharp pain crawl up your wrist like fire ants as he breaks your finger.

”You were asked a question, red devil.”

You bite your own tongue hard enough to draw blood but still, no sound escapes you as the man steps back, they all watch, expectant, pissed.

The programs been compromised, and now they want what you have, information. They're going to attempt to wring it out of you until you die like the weak trainees or you crack, both will end in your death at someone's hand.

At your continued silence the first one who spoke crosses the room, his boots clicking against the concrete before pausing, he slowly pulls the white sheet off the steel table and you get a look at what exactly is on it. Even in the dim light you can see the handles, blades probably, but your stomach doesn't drop until he picks up a vial of liquid and shakes it at you tauntingly, his other hand finds a needle and your pulse soars in your ears as he slowly draws out half a syringe of a pinkish tinted liquid.

You don't know how long it's been now, they come and go. Sometimes leaving you in complete darkness, sometimes setting a water drip over your head from the small water pipe you hadn't noticed before. Everything feels right now, the the bruises, burns, shocks, it feels worse after whatever they'd injected you with. Your nerves alight like fire was injected under your skin, like mercury was in your blood veins.

Whatever it was made every little slap feel like you were covered in tarantula wasps, you've probably sweat so much you're at risk of dying to dehydration by now.

And Still you've remained quiet.

Even as they pressed the barrel of a gun against your head, the cold metal reminding you of a childhood spent in the mountains. What an odd thing to find comfort in as they pull the trigger.

The empty click confuses you, you shouldn't have heard anything at all…you slowly glance up at their makes faces while they all seem to blur in your vision under the yellowed light.

Your bleary eyes squint as the door swings open, you don't even have it in you to react when he walks in.

Dreykov.

All you can manage to rasp out is a quiet “A test?”

He smiles thinly, looking over your brutalized form as if you were made of something precious. Looking at each bruise like it's an award being presented to him personally. He's never looked at you like that before, it's unsettling as much as you pathetically find comfort in it.

“A success. You did as expected. Prep them for the ceremony.”

he gestures over his shoulder and the very same men that'd just tortured you near-to-death stroll over and start removing your bindings like nothing happened, one of them even whistles as he begins to wipe blood off the instruments.

The normalcy hurts near as much as your limbs do when the blood slowly returns, your broken fingers ache so much worse as it does, like glass crawling through your fingertips. You can hardly breathe, animalistic panic at just their presence nearly topples you. But you don't move at all until they start to lift you out of that chair by your biceps.

You wanted to beg him for time, time to heal and process and maybe even to tell the soldier…something, to hear a voice that wasn't demanding secrets and blood of you. But you bite your tongue. They'll see you used for organs before they let you question their orders.

The surgery awaits you.

🔹🔹🔹

you wake up panting like a dog and covered in sweat, your vision blurred as your body aches weirdly, you’re both numb and feeling like you’re laying on a live wire. dull sparks of pain shoot up your body sporadically, dulled by something not quite strong enough.

For a terrible, terrible moment you're still there. They're about to put the knife to you and you're about to get your first suit, barely able to even try it on due to the pain of something being removed from you.

But you're not.

Looking around you recognize the plain walls of the guest room you've claimed as your own at Wayne manor, moonlight streams in the window between the gaps in the curtain and illuminates the sparse furniture and decor, the tray full of medical tools on the bedside table is new.

You slide the covers off and try to sit up when you realize how stiff you are, looking down you notice bandages across your chest, your hands, your legs, what?

Oh, Gotham City. The car, the fires, Batman, the near-explosion, your….Your head falls into your hands as another wave of nausea hits you for a moment, you could throw up if you moved too fast right now…

The bedroom room door creaks open.

You whirl around so fast you almost gag, your hand covers your mouth as your eyes squeeze shut at the uncomfortable feeling. When you eventually peel them back open you can make out an outline in the dark, is that Bruce?

“….I thought you might still be asleep.” His voice is careful, forcedly soft as he fills out the doorway with one hand resting on the door handle, you can't see him well enough to read him.

“…. Weird dreams, what happened?….” You murmur quietly, throat raw as if you've drank everclear. Was it the gas fumes? Or were you out for that long? You don't have it in you to ask just yet.

Bruce slowly steps into the room, sliding the door shut with a quiet little click before crossing the room to stand at the foot of the bed. The dim light streaming in only illuminates half his face, one blue eye visibly locked on you.

“You wanna tell me?” he grunts out, tense, oh…he's angry.

You lean back against the headboard slowly, body still protesting your every action. You've had worse though. “I'm assuming you know I went into the city with Tim and Alfred….”

“Oh, do I?” He doesn't move at all, but you have the feeling you'd see a clenched jaw if the light was flicked on.

What's he playing at here? Is he trying to scold a confession out of you like you were a runaway teen who snuck back in? Your hand balls up under the sheet as you reign yourself back in.

“Bruce.” You huff tiredly, he picked a horrible moment to catch you for whatever this is. Couldn't he have waited until tomorrow morning?

“(Name). Don't start this, not like last week again.” He crosses his arms over his chest and you get a peek at bandages poking out from under his sleeve, what?

You mirror his body language, your arms settle across your chest and dig into the soft fabric covering your body, bandages press into cuts you'd forgotten you'd received on your chest but you don't move an inch after that. “I'm not, you're acting very odd considering the circumstance of things.”

“And what's your circumstance? A victim of your own success, your own reckless actions?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath and holding it before exhaling. You pick up on the slightest tremor in him before he meets your eye with his one visible one.

Anger bleeds into you at his words, a scowl tugging at your lips. And here he was the one saying not to pick back up that argument you'd never finished.

“Sorry I wound up in the middle of a pyromaniac attack while trying to pick two children up from school, Bruce. Next time I'll just sit on my ass at home, would that make you feel better about yourself?”

“No, but at least I wouldn't have to wonder if you're beating someone to death in front of one of those said kids. Or is garroting your new favorite one?”

Any chance of this remaining civil is out the window, clearly since you're both getting worked up. Your nails dig into the fabric of your shirt hard enough that you can feel them scraping skin, and he's clearly tense even in the tiny bit of him visible to you. “Is that what this is about? That man tried to burn me to death, and then tried to make a car bomb next to those vigilantes.”

He nearly snarls as he replies quickly to that.

“So you think killing is the best way to stop a killer? If you'd have failed you'd have been blown up right after killing a man, could you really die with that in your conscience (name)? After everything your children have watched you go through, is being a murderer the memory you want to leave behind?”

Something in you aches as he says that, Natalia's horrified green eyes flashing through your mind, the last thing you focused on before you died. You don't know what compels you to stand, but you find yourself face to face with Bruce.

“yes. I'd rather die knowing I tried and failed than sat back and just watched others die like I did. At least I know I can fucking handle it unlike some people in this shithole of a city.”

His response is like a splash of cold water to the face. “Like you did?”

His question nearly knocks the anger right out of you, but you roll your eyes and roll with it. “The gala, I feel like I died there and woke up something different. I'm not afraid of this anymore.”

He stares, stares hard enough you wonder if he even heard you at all. “Maybe you should be.”

Again he's thrown you for a loop, what the hell does that mean?

“What, afraid? Of Gotham? Myself? What the fuck are you on about now!?”

You hate that he sees you angry, it feels too much like he's seeing you. The version of yourself that feels, that revels and savors, the ugliest side of the real you.

“I think you know, I think you're playing dumb with me right now just like you have been all this time.” The snarls gone from his face, but the tensions still there, the tense jaw, the tightly crossed arms, the wide stance…. Does Bruce think you're a threat?

“I'm…What?” this isn't right, none of this is right. It's like he's on the verge of busting down a door you thought you'd locked and bolted. He's navigating too close to dangerous waters.

He continues on in that same, gruff accusing tone. The eye contact is quickly becoming unsettling as he presses on. “Have we ever had an honest conversation, just you and I as people?”

You roll your eyes in a bluff, feigning annoyance when all you feel is panic twisting behind your ribs, forcing your blood through your veins uncomfortably fast.

“I think the fact you married me says yes.” You force snark and vitriol into your voice that you're not currently feeling at the moment, the bubbling piss and vinegar from just moments ago has all burned off in the face of his line of questions and snarled statements. Being so close to him, you get a close up of the distrust in the furrow of his brow and the pulled thin lips.

“I'm talking about you and I.”

The silence that falls over the bedroom is sudden and heavy, You could just about suffocate under his stare as you blank out. That one statement knocked the wind right out of your sails, your heart pounds so hard you can feel it behind your eyes, can he hear it?

“…. Bruce, you sound crazy right now. You know that right? How did an argument about me doing something idiotic turn into this?”

You uncross your arms and set your hands on your hips, trying to look mildly annoyed when right now you're thinking of ways to escape this room quickly if things turn for the worse. How'd you get to this point!?

He tilts his head as he studies you, for a split second you catch sight of something on his lip before he speaks again- “the (name) I know doesn't act this erratically. doesn't shoot people. Or make case files to hide in their room. Or know how to remove spyware from phones. So how do you.”

the dark room feels too small, too stuffy, is this your icarus moment? you’ve flown too close to the sun in your comfort, you’d grown into the body you woke up in and now you feel too seen. Like he'd sliced your skin open to see the rot between your ribs and now there's nothing you can do to make him unsee it.

“You say that like I'm somebody else, am i a body double, switched at the hospital with another person with amnesia? Did you forget that I remember the gala? I remember the ballet shoes in my pocket that I carried for Cassandra! I remember watching Damian get grabbed by two men! I remember the gun slamming into my head and the gas canister spraying under my face! I'm them Bruce!”

Your voice rises in pitch just a touch as you step back away from him, escaping his accusation. You just need a moment, a second to think rationally before this completely escapes your crumbling control.

He doesn't allow you the space, stepping after you just as quickly as you stumble away on unsteady legs and cornering you, you're boxed in in-between the bed and the wall and his knowing stare. “Don't you mean you're you.”

He sounds so accusatory, so certain of himself every time he wrings something from your words, it's almost sickening how astute he actually is. He's the calm one here while you're…. You know there's no twisting this in your favor now, but you'll be damned twice over before you give in willingly.

“…I am, even if you don't trust the new me I'm the one who's here now.” Your voice goes completely flat, going from near hysterical anger to lacking any bite at all. you're past anger and panic now, slipping into the embrace of numbness just like when that gun was against your head all those years ago.

For a moment he goes silent as the dead, his head tilting just slightly as he assesses the shift in you. Stepping close enough that you can see the lines of his face in the moonlight.“…that sounds like a confession, (name)…. Do I call you that?”

That gets a genuine eye roll out of you, the vitriol in his voice does nothing but squash what little hope you had of salvaging your cover. You're surprised he's not calling someone.

“there's no convincing you when you're fucking insane. My name is (name), and it has always been, I….” something catches your eye on his face, his lip specifically…

Bruce has a split lip, it looks just like…

“….I hit Batman in that same spot with a gun.”

You hear Bruce's breath audibly hitch, the room falls dead silent again as that little nugget sinks into your conscience. Neither of you move, neither of you even blink, silently daring the other to make a move first. He doesn't deny a thing, instead he just slowly steps back, eyes still locked on your form like you might jump him at any moment and…. Well you know what he thinks of your more violent tendencies.

Eventually he speaks, voice thick with unknown emotion. “…. This conversation isn't over, don't go out.”

There's a lot of unspoken words in that sentence alone, the ‘if you run you're admitting guilt.’ isn't said but is heard loud and clear. An order you're expected to obey.

You nod slowly, finally feeling like you can breathe as you sag your weight back against the wall. “Understood.”

It's not a lie, after all…. You didn't say you agreed to stay.

🔹🔹🔹

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A/n: *dodges rocks* don't hate me! I know y'all wanted a good action scene or a group reveal, (I did too I promise) but I honestly think this moment needed to happen just between these two. A crowd would make this look very different. 😿💔

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444 @br33zy-blizzardz @lunarapple @findingjaxx @4rachn3 @buckturd @tsxukikami @paastaboi @duskeras @ibelyss @1abi @that-creepy-girl-000 @kaylaphantomhive @viilan @karmaxq

[maevedoodle]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

Summary: You’ve been stuck in a draining relationship with a man who couldn’t care less about you, constantly parading his attention to other women in front of you. Tonight, you’re at a bar, feeling more invisible than ever. But then, Wanda Maximoff enters the picture.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader

Notes: Haii!! You people can find me on wattpad also and tt (@maevebarnes)

Word count: 2463

You met him in college just a few years ago, but it felt like a lifetime ago now. Back then, he was charming. The kind of guy who would buy you a drink, whisper compliments and make you laugh until you forgot about all your worries.

He had this way about him, like he could light up a room with just a smile. He was everything you thought you wanted: confident, outgoing, and always up for a good time.

At first, things were great. Late night drives, laughing over pizza, the shared excitement of spontaneous trips. But somewhere along the way, things changed. Slowly at first, then all at once.

It started with small things how he'd ignore your texts or show up late without any explanation. Then, there were the comments. Subtle digs at your appearance, your choices, your friends. And soon, he was out every night, and you were left at home, wondering where it all went wrong.

The tipping point came when you tried to have a serious conversation about it. You were sitting together, dinner half eaten, the silence between you heavy.

He looked at you like you were an inconvenience, like you were wasting his time. "You're just being dramatic, y/n me and her were friends." he said, waving it off like your feelings didn't matter. "Can't you just be cool about things for once?"

That was the moment you realized it was never going to be the same. But you stayed. Maybe it was out of comfort, maybe it was out of hope. The idea that things could go back to how they were, that he'd snap out of whatever this was.

But the truth was, he wasn't the person you thought he was. He was someone selfish, inconsiderate, and now it was just painfully obvious.

And tonight, you were once again at the bar with him hoping that maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ

The music thudded in your ears as you sat next to him, nursing your drink, trying not to look at the way he was chatting up yet another girl across the room. She was laughing too loud, leaning in just a bit too close.

You could feel the burn in your chest, that familiar ache that told you he was slipping further away. But it didn't seem to matter to him. You could tell he was drunk by the way he was slurring his words, the way his body swayed slightly with each laugh.

Yet, that didn't stop him from practically ignoring you in favor of the girl. You wondered if he even realized you were still sitting beside him. The next thing you knew, his lips were on hers, hungrily, passionately.

You could see the alcohol on their breath as they kissed like they were the only two people in the world. You didn't want to be that person, the jealous, angry girlfriend but how could you not? How could you sit there while he made out with someone else, right in front of you?

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach as you stood up, pushing your chair back sharply. His eyes didn't even leave the girl's lips when he finally glanced your way. "You alright, babe?" he asked casually, not a hint of remorse in his voice.

"Are you serious?" You were already shaking with rage, the words barely able to leave your mouth fast enough. "You're sitting here making out with another girl and you think I'm 'alright'? Are you that pathetic?"

He frowned, trying to pull away from the girl as he caught your eye. "Come on, don't be like that. Join us. It'll be fun. Don't you want to? You've been so uptight lately."

"No," you shouted, the words coming out harsh, raw. "I've had enough of this. Enough of you, enough of this whole thing. You're disgusting."

You turned on your heel and stormed out of the bar, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap. You stood outside, taking a deep breath, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill. It wasn't the first time, but it felt like the final straw.

You barely noticed the quiet figure stepping into view, until her voice cut through the chaos in your mind. "You're starting to get really hard to track."

You jumped, startled, whipping your head around to find none other than Wanda Maximoff standing in front of you. "Are you stalking me?" You blurted out, wiping your eyes quickly, still shaken.

"You're starting to get really hard to track."

Wanda had been showing up for you in ways that felt almost like fate, always just when you needed her. It started small bringing over a bottle of wine when you were having one of those nights where everything felt too heavy to carry on your own.

You'd spent hours talking to her, pouring out your frustrations about everything from your relationship to your lack of self-worth, and Wanda never once judged. She just listened, offering comfort and the occasional joke to ease your mind.

There were other times, too. When he was out with his friends, treating you like an afterthought, Wanda showed up at your door with take out and a simple smile. She could always tell when something was wrong, even if you didn't say it out loud. She'd just find a way to be there.

Whether it was dropping by to check on you after a long day or leaving a sweet note with a small token of comfort on your desk at work, Wanda had this way of showing you she cared without making it feel like a burden.

It was as if she knew exactly when the weight of everything would get too much for you to handle on your own. Now, here she was, in front of you again, this time at the bar when everything had finally hit its breaking point.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Not stalking, just...keeping an eye out. I've been following your energy for a while now."

You sniffled, unsure whether to laugh or cry, but Wanda didn't seem to mind. She stepped closer, her presence a steadying force.

"What's going on, Y/N?" she asked, her voice soft yet commanding, like she could feel the weight on your shoulders. You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "It's nothing. Just...my life's a mess."

She stood there for a moment, her gaze piercing, but gentle. "It doesn't seem like nothing." She sighed, crossing her arms. "That guy in there doesn't deserve you."

The words hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, the tears you'd been holding back came crashing forward. "I don't even know why I'm still with him," you admitted, wiping your eyes. "I thought things would get better, but they never do. He doesn't even care about me."

Wanda's eyes softened, her expression tender. "You deserve someone who sees you. Someone who values you for who you are." You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you'd been holding inside slowly begin to lift.

"You deserve better than that asshole, you know that, right?" Wanda's voice was firm, but kind. You swallowed, looking up at her with teary eyes. "Do you really think so?"

Wanda took a small step forward, closing the distance between you. She reached out, her hand warm against yours. "I know so," she whispered.

There was a brief pause, one that seemed to stretch forever, before Wanda asked, "Can I take you to dinner?" You crossed your arms, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Dinner? Are you sure you want to waste your time with me?"

Wanda smirked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think you're worth it." Your heart fluttered in your chest as she intertwined her fingers with yours.

Her hand felt right, grounding. You looked up at her, and for the first time in a long while, you felt seen. Wanda leaned in, her lips brushing against your cheek in a soft, fleeting kiss.

It wasn't anything grand just the kind of moment that told you, in that instant, that maybe, just maybe, things could be different now.

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ

The restaurant was warm, a stark contrast to the chill of the night outside. Wanda's hand was wrapped around yours, her grip steady, reassuring. She hadn't let go since she pulled you away from that nightmare of a bar, away from him, and honestly, you didn't want her to.

As the host led you both to a booth tucked into a quiet corner, Wanda glanced at you, her thumb brushing against your skin. "You okay?" she asked softly.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. "Yeah," you murmured, sliding into your seat. "I think I will be." Wanda gave a small smile, as if she already knew that.

The moment the menus were in front of you, she spoke again. "Order whatever you want. My treat." You arched a brow. "Trying to impress me, Maximoff?"

She smirked. "Is it working?"

You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head, but there was no denying the warmth in your chest. It was strange just hours ago, you had been stuck in a toxic loop, watching the man who was supposed to love you betray you right in front of your eyes

And now? You were here, with Wanda, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Once the orders were placed, a comfortable silence settled between you. Wanda was watching you again, but not in a way that made you feel self conscious.

No, her gaze was soft, thoughtful, like she was trying to memorize every detail of you in this moment. "You really have been there for me, haven't you?" you mused aloud, tracing the rim of your glass with your finger.

Wanda tilted her head slightly. "Of course I have." You glanced up at her. "Even before tonight when things started getting bad, you just...showed up. With wine, with comfort, with hugs when I didn't even realize I needed them."

Wanda's expression softened. "I hated seeing you with him." You swallowed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Because I knew you weren't ready to hear it. You had to see it for yourself." Your fingers curled against the table. "I was so stupid to stay as long as I did."

Wanda reached across the table, gently prying your hand open so she could tangle her fingers with yours again. "No," she said firmly. "You loved him. You wanted to believe he could change. That's not stupid." You let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand.

Wanda watched you for a moment before she spoke again, her voice quieter this time. "You deserve better than that asshole. You know that, right?" You nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think I'm finally starting to believe that."

A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. "Good." She hesitated for a beat before continuing. "Can I take you to dinner again? A real date this time?"

Your brows lifted slightly. "So, what's this, then?" Wanda smirked. "An escape." She squeezed your hand. "But I want more than that. I want you."

Your breath hitched slightly. For a second, all you could do was stare at her. The sincerity in her voice, the quiet intensity in her eyes it was overwhelming in the best way.

You swallowed, letting a slow smile form on your lips. Then, in a playful challenge, you crossed your arms. "You gonna wine and dine me properly, Maximoff?"

Wanda laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Absolutely." She leaned in then, and before you could overthink it, you met her halfway.

The kiss was soft, warm, lingering nothing like the desperate, sloppy kisses you'd endured before. This was intentional, like she wanted you to know exactly how much she meant it. When she pulled back, her smirk returned. "So? Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Wanda's thumb brushed lightly against the back of your hand as she leaned back in her seat, a satisfied smile playing at her lips.

The warmth of the restaurant, the soft hum of conversations around you, the way Wanda looked at you like she actually saw you it all made you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time. Safe.

You sighed, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at your lips. "You know, I haven't felt this... relaxed in forever." Wanda tilted her head. "Not even as a kid?"

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "No, I was a menace as a kid. I think I stressed everyone out." Wanda smirked, amused. "Oh? Do tell."

You exhaled, thinking for a moment before the memory surfaced, clear as day. "Okay, so when I was, like, seven, I had this brilliant idea to run away." Wanda's brows lifted. "Run away?"

"Mhm. And not for a good reason either. I wasn't being neglected or mistreated or anything I just wanted to see how far I could get before someone noticed." Wanda snorted. "That sounds exactly like something you'd do."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "So, I packed my little backpack with the essentials Teddy Grahams, a juice box, and my favorite stuffed animal. And I left so dramatically, slamming the front door and everything. I thought I was so slick."

Wanda bit her lip, trying to hold back laughter. "How far did you get?" You sighed, shaking your head. "I made it four houses down before I got hungry and turned back."

Wanda burst into laughter, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You couldn't even make it to the end of the block?"

"Nope," you admitted, grinning. "And when I got back, my mom didn't even realize I was gone. She was just like, "Oh, you were outside? Okay, dinner's almost ready." Wanda wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye, still laughing. "That's adorable."

You shrugged. "I like to think of it as character development. Now, if I ever run away, I'll at least bring two juice boxes." Wanda shook her head, still grinning. "Noted."

The laughter settled into something softer, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Wanda was still smiling, her gaze lingering on you like she was memorizing every little detail the way your eyes lit up when you laughed, the way you gestured when you spoke.

"You really are something else," she murmured, voice fond. You felt warmth spread through your chest, and for once, it wasn't followed by doubt or second-guessing. For the first time in a long time, you actually felt wanted.

[miumiaoomyzi]

YOU AND SOONYOUNG had a small ritual wherein everytime one of you gets an injury, it is required for the other person to kiss it.

you never agreed. yet soonyoung insisted. sometimes he'd make you do it in public and whenever someone asks about it, he just waves it off and says "oh it's a super super close bff thingy!" with a beaming smile.

soonyoung doesn't notice it, but you're fully aware of the fact that he'd purposely get frequent injuries everyday just for you to place a small peck in it.

one time during dance practice, he purposely hit his knee on one of the tables in the practice room. and almost unbelievably, he immediately ran outside of the room and looked for you.

and boy oh boy, on your way home from a blind date, soonyoung grabbed your shoulders and turned you to his direction, lifting the ends of his pants up to show the bruise he purposely earned earlier.

what even made it more embarassing is that your date was walking you home.

"kiss it."

you couldn't fathom the amount of rage seeping inside your bones for soonyoung at that very moment. "..soonyoung." you glanced at the man next to you and back to him.

he raised an eyebrow, "who's this guy?" you quickly pushed soonyoung away, immediately latching onto the guy's arm.

"let's. just go mingyu. don't mind him." a day after that, soonyoung didn't approach you for 2 weeks.

right now, soonyoung stood infront of you, pointing at a small gash in his lips.

you were confused at first but then you got the gist. you gotta kiss it better.

"soonyoung what the hell?"

"so? are you gonna kiss it better now or what?" he pouted, eyes giving a playful glare as you looked around nervously.

"dude! we're in public! isn't this kind of matter.. private..?" he shook his head and you immediately dragged him to a more secluded place.

he waited patiently as you examined the gash in his lips, "how did you get this?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"i tripped."

you almost facepalmed right infront of him. instead, you slowly nodded. "okay. so.."

"i'm not kissing it."

"why? but we do it all the timeeee!" he whined as you merely shook your head in refusal.

he stared. and you stared.

you swore his eyes got bigger. you immediately figured he was mustering up the best puppy eyes he could do. even with a pout.

"pleeeaassee? pretty pretty pleaseeee?" he pleaded with shiny eyes, hands onto yours.

you shook your head again, pushing him away gently. soonyoung let out a faint whine, "okay. if that's how it is." all enthusiasm drained away from his tone.

he started to walk away, until you realized the knee bruise incident. 2 whole weeks of radio silence. you couldn't do that to soonyoung again.

you quickly grabbed his hand and tugged him closer to you, "fine. i'll do it. but this is only once okay?"

he beamed, nodding with so much excitement. you looked around the place before cupping his face in your hands.

heat rised up in your cheeks as you hesitantly placed a kiss in his lips.

he pulled back so fast, ears turning red as he looks at you with widened eyes and a small frown.

he turned behind him, fingers touching his lips as he turned back to you. the wound got larger.

"you've got to be kidding me."

"rules are rules babe!"

a day will not pass whenever i dont daydream about soonyoung #horanghae

[dragon-susceptible]

Lissa

I'm having some thinky thoughts about Lissa, Viren's ex-wife, Soren and Claudia's mom.

So from the way Claudia talks about her in season 2, she and Viren fought a lot, it wasn't a good environment for kids, and then she and Viren pressured their kids (each no more than 5) to decide which parent to stay with. I'm a little suspicious of the details here because how are you remembering that much at 3 years old, Claudia, and why would any adult expect you to make that kind of decision when you're still learning how to make sentences? Anyways my suspicions on the details aside, the major events of them fighting and Lissa leaving are backed up in Viren's story in Arc 2.

Here's the thing. I trust Viren's account more not because I trust him all that much more, but because he didn't actually let anyone see it. I think he was genuinely being vulnerable, being weak, and that's why he couldn't let Soren actually see it in the end.

So in Viren's account, he and Lissa weren't fighting all the time. It was something that developed in their desperation to help Soren, who was suffering with his breathing illness. Ultimately, it explodes into Viren physically assaulting Lissa for her tears to work the spell to fix Soren's lungs, which he frames as saving him. Lissa left him very quickly after that.

So here's the thing. We don't know enough about Lissa to really judge her. I could see how this might be a case of an immigrant woman who found herself swept away by this charming Katolian aristocrat, who maybe had a temper but he wasn't violent with people, generally, and genuinely loved him and built a family with him. Then one day he snaps, and she finds out he can be violent with people too, actually, even with her, and she's terrified and horrified, but - but he did it to save their son. She can't stand staying with a man who would hurt her like that, but if he's willing to attack her for Soren, surely he'll be willing to do anything to protect their children. They'll be safe with him, they'll be well-off with him. So when Soren clings to him she lets them stay, but has to leave for her own safety no matter how much that hurts, and because she has to cut Viren out so much, she never realizes how badly this backlashes on the kids.

Or she could have resented Viren, resented their relationship because how dare fate hand her the suffering of her firstborn, and then her husband turning abusive on top of it, maybe she was glad to be rid of all of them when she left

Hell maybe it was all an excuse and she's just a transient asshole who was looking for a reason to leave, and Viren just gave her one on a silver platter when he assaulted her

Maybe she was a genuinely loving wife and mother right up until it came to the issue of dark magic, and she hated Viren for using it on Soren and believed Soren to be "tainted" with it and that's why she didn't fight for them. Or maybe it was only an issue because Viren targeted her for the materials for dark magic, and it's not about the magic but every time she looks at Soren now she sees his father's cold face while he hurt her.

There's so many ways she could be a fucked up individual, and some of them she's not even the asshole. Maybe she genuinely thought the kids would be better off with Viren and she just had to stay safe, and that it would be better for them if she just disappeared instead of making them deal with the complications of parents who won't see each other. They were so young when she left, I can follow the reasoning. I think she's wrong, but I can understand it. Or she could be a bitch for any number of reasons.

Both of the kids seem to remember her with some level of resentment, but Claudia was so young she's likely pulling mostly from Viren's feelings about her. Soren talks as if he resents her but he keeps a portrait of her tucked into his armor, so he must have some . . . Curiosity, at least, or hope. It's just really interesting to think about.

[brummiereader]

@zablife I was cheering her on throughout the entirety of this chapter 💪🏼👏🏼!

I was ecstatic to see her finally find enough confidence to put Mary in her place, and banish her from Arrow House! But her discovery within Graces correspondences came with more questions 🤔.

How would you be able to get at it? It would be impossible without waiting until she fell asleep and stealing it from her room. I'm so relieved she didn't wait until Mary was asleep to get the key. I think I would have passed out from the stress of that read 😂.

You found papers referring to the "Economic League," the "Oddfellows" and one from the "Vigilance Committee." You weren't sure how it was all related until you compared recurring names of business men, MPs and Army officers, realizing they were one and the same with Section D. Goodness, she has been busy 😳. But what left me questioning everything was the last document she found "Failure to achieve your objective will result in final termination. Next of kin will be notified." 😯...Had she gotten in too deep? Was she being blackmailed into something she never envisioned happening? I love how complex you have made her character. I didn't care much for her story in season 2 and 3 canon. But your series has given life back into her personality we saw in season 1. And I can't help but wonder if canon Grace would have also strived for more, ultimately undermining Tommy in the process 🤔.

"This is my house now and I will search every inch of it if I so choose,” you seethed, unafraid of her vitriol. YES 🤩! Arghh, I was kicking my feet when I saw her finally claim back her position as lady of the house.

You're nothing more than his instrument, a plaything he uses. Grace was a self reliant woman, free to live her life as she pleased. No wonder a man had to kill her!” she remarked pointedly. Oof, I mean I kinda love how Mary worded this 🙈😂. Grace was clearly a threat in a world that was governed (still governed 🙄) by men.

She barely registered the order, though you noted the tight clench of her jaw in response. Eek 😬. I don't like this! Has Mary's reign really come to an end? You have me on the very edge of my seat, waiting for the next chapter to see who she will visit next. Father Hughes?...that thought is terrifying 😳.

So excited for the next chapter 😍❤️!

Becoming Mrs. Shelby (Part 20)

Tommy x wife reader

Summary: You race against the clock to find something that will help Tommy, but you must face Mary first.

Part 19 Masterlist

The moment the car returned to Arrow House, your feet flew up the stairs. Eyes darting anxiously down the hall for any sign of Mary, you breathed a sigh of relief at the silence that greeted you. Continuing on to the library, you wasted no time attempting to open the mahogany bureau which had once belonged to Grace.

In vain hope of finding one miraculously unlocked, your fingers fumbled against the cool metal of a brass handle. When it did not open, you moved onto the others without success, beginning to despair as they all remained shut tight against your prying. For a moment you considered the force it would take to break one and you stifled a grunt of exertion as you leveraged your full weight against the bottom drawer. Losing your grip, you tumbled to the ground with a thud, wishing you had a copy of the key.

You knew as well as Tommy that Mary held the only set of master keys in the house, a vast collection crowded onto a ring she kept fastened at her side. How would you be able to get at it? It would be impossible without waiting until she fell asleep and stealing it from her room.

As you briefly considered enlisting Clara's help with the theft, your eyes drifted to a nearby clock realizing that plan would take time you didn't have. Finally your eyes rested upon the sterling silver letter opener on the desk. You wouldn't need a key if you picked the lock, you convinced yourself.

Without a clue as to what you were doing, you slid the pointed end into the keyhole, carefully listening for a change in the hollow clinking sounds produced by your prodding. Then, to your great amazement, the letter opener hit upon a latch that freed the drawer instantly. With a tiny squeal of delight, you reached in to extract the manila folders hidden in its depths before repeating the same steps to empty the desk of its contents.

Eagerly flicking through the mountain of paperwork, you skimmed over the pages as quickly as possible, but you fell into confusion over the multitude of names and organizations. You found papers referring to the "Economic League," the "Oddfellows" and one from the "Vigilance Committee." You weren't sure how it was all related until you compared recurring names of business men, MPs and Army officers, realizing they were one and the same with Section D.

Grace appeared to have corresponded with them regularly, providing information about Shelby Co. Limited and Tommy's general whereabouts. She had faithfully recorded all she knew in the pages of a small, red journal before being typed into reports. Most importantly, you uncovered replies from Father Hughes himself, outlining the organizations mission to undermine the current government which allowed the Shelbys freedom.

However, the final document you stumbled upon gave you pause. Noting it was dated the week before Grace's death, you clamped a hand over your mouth in shock as you read the brief, yet significant message. It appeared to be a warning to provide more concrete evidence against the members of the Shelby family. Apparently Tommy had protected them well. Is that why she'd asked for his help? you wondered, grimacing at the thought of her loathsome demand.

A deep foreboding thrummed in your veins as you read the last lines of type, "Failure to achieve your objective will result in final termination. Next of kin will be notified." You gasped in spite of yourself, comprehending the terms of Grace's contract were to kill or be killed.

Oblivious to the sound of the creaking door at your back, you were startled by the outraged voice of Mary. “Shame on you!" she spat, crossing the room to stand before you in obvious fury. "Did you find what you were looking for in Mrs. Shelby's private things?" she scolded.

"This is my house now and I will search every inch of it if I so choose,” you seethed, unafraid of her vitriol.

"To save him?" she sneered, surveying the mass of papers along with the one clutched tightly in your hand. "Well it won't work," she informed you, arms crossed over her chest in defiance.

"We'll see about that," you retorted, plucking important pages from the stacks before you.

 “I knew you'd stand by him," she uttered, poison dripping from her tongue. Lips curved into a sinister smile she pronounced, "Perhaps you do deserve him."

"More than Grace ever did because I actually love him," you declared, chin held high.

Mary snorted at your proud reply noting, "You're nothing more than his instrument, a plaything he uses. Grace was a self reliant woman, free to live her life as she pleased. No wonder a man had to kill her!” she remarked pointedly.

Rebuffing her criticism, you stood tall before her, a calmness washing over you as you addressed her misconceptions about Grace. "It must be hard for you to accept she was fallible, but she made many mistakes. I intend to see them rectified," you informed her.

She stammered at your sudden confidence which seemed to drain her of whatever power she'd once held over you. You used this momentum to deliver the final blow to her ego. “Pack your bags, I expect you gone by nightfall.”

She barely registered the order, though you noted the tight clench of her jaw in response.

Without waiting for her to make the first move, you gathered all the necessary papers into your arms and stalked away, intent on making one last trip before evening.

[midnight-mourning]

I'm back! (for the most part)

Hello, hope everyone is doing alright, needed a few more days than I expected. BUT, here now and slowly working on being more active. May take me a bit but plan to get caught up with everything and the likes. Going to release promptobers throughout the next couple of days, along with anything else I'm currently working on. Expect some updates on the oneshot, ch. 35 and so on as well ^-^ Thank you all for your paitence and hope to be back to regularly posting soon!

some medical/mental stuff below the cut if you're curious, I was going to save this for the ch. 35 note, but figured I might as well just say it now as it's part of the reason my return was delayed

SO, haven't really spoken on it but I've had a sinus infection for about two months now and gonna be so fr with you all, it's sucked. Like, i've never had one this bad before and it just totally knocked me on my ass. I've been tired, dazed/brain fog, some bad headaches/face pain, all the really fun stuff. I made the joke that I spent like two days of being 23 healthy and the rest of the time I've been sick lmao

But anyway, I kept waiting to see if it would clear up on it's own (and for like a week or so there my health insurance was messed up so there was that to deal with) and it just, didn't. And with everything going on with research (esp this past week) I just made myself tough through it hoping it would get better, and it didn't. So, finally went to the doctor and got on some meds and I'm feeling a LOT better.

The point to all this is to say, I've had no motivation to write beyond very small bursts and thus why I've been putting out promptobers but not the latest chapter of CS. My energy has just been super low, and I had a lot of brain fog for several weeks and I just, couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe it was a little bit of writer's block from stress too, not super sure

I took the break mainly bc things with research just got, really shitty for a few days there and I just needed time away from everything for bit esp with the sickness issues. Thankfully, things are working out a bit better this week people-wise and hopefully we'll continue to go up from here.

As for why I was gone the few extra days, the stuff they put me on made me feel physically great, but it also made me feel like doing absolutely nothing for a day or so. But, figured out the timing for those so now it's manageable to get through the next week and hopefully I'll be fully back to normal by then ^_^

TL;DR if you can go to the doctor when you're sick, go. It is NOT worth the discomfort, stress, etc to not. Also, take a break when you're stressed, does wonders for your mental health

well, since you took the time to read all of this, enjoy these pictures of a cat that showed up at my parents place a few days ago. She’s a bengal! Which makes her the second stray that's shown up that is incredibly rare/bred to look like that (the first is Nubs, my idiot who eats everything if any of you recall). Not to worry, she went home to (hopefully) her forever family early yesterday :)

[ridingthatd]

'𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐒`

'needy jjk!man × fem!reader`

`filthy, dirty, kinky'

dominate, submissive, size kink, underwear sniffing kink, fat cock, breeding, knotting, nipple play, degrading kink, cummin in pants, etc...

you're a filthy slut aren't you? there's no point of denying it anymore. no point of feeling confused and frustrated one why you're such a perverted dirty whore, on why your pussy is always begging for cock, on why your mind is corrupted with lewd dirty thoughts that can't be said out loud.

you finally realized that you're just a pathetic needy slut who needs a fat cock to turn her insides into mush from rutting into her cervix. who needs her dirty fantasies to be true. and you have finally met someone who can turn them into reality. someone's who's just as needy and pathetic as you.

"aw does my sweet baby wants me to suck on his little hard nipples? hm?" you coo at your boyfriend, who has a whiney frown on his face. his mouth falls open as he whines giving you a full view of his wet tongue that you wanna suck on.

"tch, i told you to stop calling me that" he huffs out embarrassed at how turned on he is by your words. you chuckle before squeezing one of his nipples into your mouth while you pinch the other between your fingers. he immediately gasp at the contact of your wet warm tongue sucking hard on his tender nipple.

his fat cock was so hard in his boxers, you can see the outline of his dick leaking and twitching, like it wants to jump free out of his now tight boxers; how cute. you can feel your boyfriends steamy breath fanning against your face.

you don't even have to open your eyes to know what face he has on right now, you already know his eyes would into the back of his head, mouth half opened as drool runs down his pink lips. grunting and huffing like a dog in heat.

your boyfriend was a big guy, he was never the type of guy that you would expect to be a manwhore. but look at him now, all whiney and needy as you grind your hand against his hard on.

he beg you to slip your hand inside- he wants to feel your warm hands on his leaking fat cock, sloppily stroking it but instead you tell him you won't touch his cock unless he squirt his warm seeds, filling his underwear with hot cum.

and that's exactly what he does, it only took you a couple of strokes through the fabric while you suck on his nipple to get him cumming hard in his boxer. he lay down trembling, while he watch you through heavy eyelid stripping him from his boxers.

taking it in your hand just for your tongue to peak out and nastly lick the cum that's on the boxer. he groan watching you. but you don't stop there, you take the boxer and place it on your dripping pussy. grinding the boiling cum filled fabric against your pussy, coating your needy cunt with his seeds.

you start humping his underwear, eyes rolling behind your skull at the feeling of the rough fabric against your clit and the warmess of his cum grinding against your pussy. "you fucking dirty whore" your boyfriend growls out as he watches you, causing you to whimper loudly at his comment.

"yea? you want to be talked to like a dumb fuckmutt? pathetic slut" he finally breaks as he shoved you under him. finally getting you under him, seeing you break and try to hang onto whatever consciousness you had before his cock turned your insides into mush from rutting constant cervix kisses into your greedy cunt.

shushing your cries when you claim it's too much. pinning you deeper under him. finally settling down after rounds of abusing your cunt. just to pin you under his huge weight and hold you like a stuffed animal on his cock. letting you whine and squirm at the fullness in your belly from holding all of the constant loads he has rutted back inside until your pussy stop and just accept it....

[muntitled]

Blink Twice

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: After pushing your body to the brink, it's finally giving out. You're rewarded for all your dazzling work ethic with a “nice” dinner. As ‘nice’ as ‘nice’ gets with him…

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Murder, Abuse, Male Manipulation, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Handcuffs, Exhibitionism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Fingering, Somnophilia, Period Sex, Bodily Fluids.

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

"H-How do you keep breaking into my apartment?" If it weren't for the fact that you were currently being fingered awake, you might have found it in yourself to sound more angry.

But you weren't awake, and he had taken advantage of your unconscious state just enough to bend down over your sleeping frame, and slip his hands between your legs.

You had promised yourself a quick power nap on the couch, anything that might lessen the pain that had been steadily blooming in your left arm. That nap had stolen you throughout most of the day until, here he hovers over you- the man who is undoubtedly the culprit for all this bodily pain you're in- with his fingers inside you.

“There you are, sleepy head,” His face is so close, you can see the smile wrinkling his face. His smile is bright and kind but his fingers aren't. They're stretching your cunt out, wrenching a moan from deep within you as you stare down at your hips moving off the couch.

“Fuck…” Your voice cracks as he scissors his index and middle finger inside you, still on a mission to split you apart. You drown in the scent of his cologne and his perfectly new suit- a black one today.

You throw your head back, feeling the pressure mount as you grind down against his fingers all while he watches with immense satisfaction.

“Can't- just-” you gasp when your wetness seeps out of you and onto the couch. “Can't-Do-This-” For all those moments you forget that you're nursing a sore arm. As you grind down against his ruthless fingers.

You forget that he might have seriously injured you this time.

“I couldn't help myself,” he whispers hoarsely, forcing an orgasm out of you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “You look breathtaking when you're unconscious.”

As the orgasm passes, you try to wake yourself up and become more aware of your surroundings.

Your body is shaking once he's done with you. Your cunt aches and reality sets back in. “Get out of my house.”

He straightens his tie before standing to his full height again, “You say that like I don't own the place,"

He's smiling stiffly as he stands before you, clutching that bloody briefcase, having come to collect you for another round of games...

Something inside your worn-out soul breaks at the sight of him so unfathomably fazed. You were experiencing another round of those 'realization moments'.

You have actually gone and sold yourself to a sadist.

Especially now that he's gone and done it again. After vehemently expressing that he 'please be a little more gentle with you', he insisted on pushing your body to the brink of its abilities. Toying with you and punishing you and releasing all the workings of those sick, sick, sick games on you, and for what?

It hits you more often than not these days.

A paid apartment? Paid university fees?

You try to keep your sleepy eyes unkind as you glare up at him but even you blanch at how much of a necessary force he's made himself in your life.

"And how often are you going to remind me that all my resources are tied to you?" You rise from lying supine, waiting for the world to stop spinning before you start stretching. None of your limbs protest as much as yours left shoulder that practically howls in pain. He watches you with robotic intrigue.

"I thought I should make good on that promise to take you out.”

"Take me out?" He notes the way your good shoulders tenses and smiles.

"I already said I've got no plans to kill you. You're the most fun I've had in years and years." He says "I want you to go to dinner with me."

"You wanna take your abuse victim out to dinner... looking like this?" you try to lift your arm but it protests, sending a sharp pain through your entire left side.

"I think you look rather beautiful."

"You would think this is what beauty looks like."

A tense silence falls.

"You're angry." He tilts his head, "And in pain."

You scoff venomously then, "Whomever might the culprit be?" You ask sarcastically before picking yourself up from the couch. You're cradling your arm, dragging your worn body across the floor to the adjoining kitchen.

"My fucking arm still hurts." You nearly cry as you squeeze the words out. Shooting a teary-eyed glare at your sadist from the kitchen.

"Tonight is your celebration dinner and it's way overdue." He busies himself by folding up the quilt that had been draped along your sleeping frame, "All my virtues rest on giving credit where credit is due, and you my dear..." the gaze he arrests you in is warm, and penetrative, like you were being reminded that he owns your body and soul, "-have done stellar work for me."

It's said in a wave of reverence you didn't really expect.

"Let me take you out,"

Sure he was sociopathic, and deranged, and everything you should most definitely be seeking refuge from, but the sentiment in his voice is genuine. As if, after 40 years on this earth, with the violent tendencies he had undoubtedly been born with, here is someone that's actually helping him. That's what you're doing, you're helping him. But it comes at a steep, steep price.

"You have virtues?" You ask sarcastically, causing the once intense moment to scatter and lighten.

"And your humor would be missed if I killed you. Where else would I find someone with such a stellar sense of humor and almost no sense of self preservation?" He asks aloud, as he walks towards the counter that separates you both. "You should've asked for help the first day you met me-"

"You offered to pay my shit if I played your games, who would walk away from that?”

"You should've." He smiles. "But I'm glad you didn't." His smile reaches those dead, almond eyes, "And tonight we have a celebration dinner."

"I can't go out," you say, turning your back on him to drink water.

His voice is dark when he says, "Can't or won't?"

"Can't." You slam your cup down against the sink, earning a thick wave of silence. You were never angry with him before. Never. "I think you broke something." You say, turning slowly, still cradling your arm like a baby.

There's a jarring amount of care in his voice as he rounds the counter to walk closer towards you. He examines your arm with deceptively soft eyes as he softly says, "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

You look up at him with blank eyes, "Try not to get off thinking about it," you snip back. Sarcasm was your only weapon.

"I couldn't help myself," He rests his large hand on your arm, "you know that right?

"Y-Yes," your resolve falters and you're back to being his submissive. "I don't blame you."

"In fact." He nods along with you, conditioning you to accept his view of the events as he says, "Our session this past week had been nothing short of magical."

You're not quite sure if that was a reliable portrayal of the events but your weak mind is already fitting the memories to be so.

Somehow, you're thinking of the events with less anger: how he had snapped real, silver handcuffs on your wrists, resting them behind your back while you were being fucked from behind. It had been blissful until he pulled too hard on the left and you screamed and you blacked out.

Now here he stands before you, drenched in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a brand new black suit, smelling of fine cologne, telling you it was magical.

He came when you broke your arm.

"Alright, I'll come with you," he decides with finality, prompting you to snap out of your daze.

"No, I can go myself!" You move around him to gather your things.

"Unless you've magically obtained the ability to communicate in Korean then I suggest I come with you." He watches you race across your tiny apartment, gathering your things.

"There are English speaking doctors I'll be f-uck." As you were searching for your phone between the couch, you angered the arm, causing another wave of pain to blossom.

"I'm taking you." He stands by the doorway, "Let's go."

Your nostrils flare as the real reason for your discomfort rears its head. "B-but what if..."

You let the words die on your lips. Choosing instead to look at him, hoping your eyes relay the severity of the implications that might arise from a simple trip to the hospital. All those questions.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me." He says, still smiling.

"Worry?" You snort as you make your way to the front door where your sneakers sit, "If you go to jail who's gonna make me cum?"

He clutches at the space where a heart ought to be and says, "And here I was thinking you were falling in love with an old man like me."

"You can't love anything," you shoot back coldly.

"I can't," he confirms, "but you can."

You move away from the conversation like It's growing teeth.

"Let's just go," you mumble quietly, heading out the door, not looking back and knowing he'd follow.

𓂃

The hospital is bombarded by the smell of antiseptic and busy bodies in white coats whizzing all around you. It's dizzying actually being here as the severity if it all comes hammering down on you. You didn't like being around so many people at the best of times- even attending university everyday was met with its fair share of anxiety. Almost on instinct, you curl a little closer into his side, letting your right hand slither over his wrist. Surprisingly, he lets you.

"What should I say?" It only strikes you now that you probably should have rehearsed some script since 'I'd like to seek medical attention because I'm meeting with a homicidal sadist weekly who pays my bills and my body is finally giving out,' probably wouldn't be a good way to go.

The confidence in his stride leaves you brimming with nervousness. Your less than orthodox dynamic has already made a few passers by stare but here, inside the hospital, you feel like the only two humans to exist.

"I'll do the talking," he reassures and something inside you sighs. This is what made him such a necessary force for you. He handled way more than you ever could. He moved through the world, headstrong and in charge. He was everything you weren't.

"Good day-" he says to the nurse manning the front desk, "I'd like to get my wife treated for a possible fracture or broken bone-"

Wife.

It rings through your ears.

Meanwhile, kind eyes- genuine, human eyes- look at you from across the desk. You realize then how little contact you've had with anyone normal. Anyone real.

"Poor thing," the nurse murmurs and your heart tugs at the kindness drenched in her voice.

"Alright, Sir, it's just-" the nurse gestures towards the rest of the waiting room, "We're just busier than we usually are for a weekday so you might have to wait a while-"

"You have medical aid?" You enquire softly, letting your side bump against him. "Who the hell are you?"

He stares down the small woman as he reveals a glistening card from his wallet. She quickly looks at you before she tentatively takes the card and types away at her computer.

Somehow, up until this point you had fooled yourself into believing you were on the road to autonomy, that going to university and being a woman in her 20s away from home meant you were finally obtaining sweet sweet independence but in actuality... you were just a little girl, deluding herself into thinking the city might be kind to her. It's swallowing you whole. And you're being left to watch.

It made you aware of how completely vulnerable you had really been. You could barely afford rent, let alone something as luxurious as medical aid. For all your time in this city you tried not to get hurt because medical bills would eat you alive and here he was, whipping a card out.

"Right this way-" The little nurse moves from behind the counter, and almost immediately, you hear a distinct uproar in the waiting room behind you. "I think doctor Park will see you, but we'll first head over for X-Ray and-"

"Hey!" The sound startles you, causing your shoulders to tense as you grip on your Salesman's forearm, making sure he's still there, "We've been here for 4 hours," You meet the haggard glassy eyes of a middle aged man. He's scowling at you as if you've committed a grave murder right before him.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The nurse begins, her voice filled with concern, "This hospital is legally obligated to help out those with medical aid first-"

Shoes click against the cold floors. A shadow descends as your Salesman steps forward as if protecting you from the man's vehemence. Time stands still in the moments he makes his venomous proposition. A proposition so vile it nearly had you vomiting here all over the hospital floors.

"My wife needs a new heart-" he begins, gesturing to a woman- a ghost seated in the chairs behind him. Her skin is practically translucent as she stares off into space. "Who knows how much time we're wasting while we're being forced to wait here-"

"Are you up for a game of rock, paper, scissors by any chance?" Your salesman asks, causing your heart to sink. The man examines him as if he's grown a second head.

"If you win a single round against me, I will pay for your wife's medical treatment. New heart." At the peroration of his incredibly insensitive and evil proposition, your Salesman smiles.

"One round." He says, before his eyes snap to the woman pulling at her husband's arm.

"She doesn't look too well," The Salesman pouts and you walk up towards him, limbs shaking as you whisper-yell in his ear, feeling all your nerves being shot out of you.

"Jesus, you're fucking disgusting."

"Birds of a feather-" he whispers back, before refocusing his attention onto the man.

Meanwhile the nurse tries to pull you away but you're rooted to the floors. This whole ordeal makes you realize that you've never actually seen him interact with normal people. It makes you wonder where he goes when he's not with you. You'd almost believed that he's a fragment of your delusions, something your lonely brain cooked up to make you believe someone in this city cared about you. But he's real. And he has a life outside the two of you.

"Don't you wanna help your wife?" He continues to tempt the man, "Look at mine-" the Salesman said, gesturing to you. "She's a little battered and bruised but she's alive. You're not dying any time soon, right honey?"

You rip your eyes away from him just as your nurse returns. She places a warm arm on your forearm and in the midst of the game, she places a card in your hand. "Let's go for your x-rays,"

While they play their game, you look down at the piece of paper.

Blink twice if the man you're with is the one who assaulted you.

Call it female intuition.

You have no idea what could've led to the fact that he was the one but the nurse is watching you with a heavy gaze and bated breath. You almost drown in the concern she holds for you, a mere stranger.

In another life, you might've had a friend like her. She's relatively young, budding with youthfulness, actually. You imagine she has a boyfriend. An actual one. One who holds her bag while she's shopping. One who kisses her. These kinds of people develop empathy. The ‘fixed people’. You can tell she knows love.

“I-”

“Rock, paper, scissors-”

You blink once before looking away and the nurse sighs in relief.

"Better luck next time." You watch with bated breath as the man draws a rock to the Salesman's paper.

𓂃

An oblique fracture, they called it. The thing that's been plaguing your left arm for a week has finally been given its name. You're walking out of the doctor's office feeling light and remarkably relieved to leave this place and all its people. He walks confidently beside you, having sat through the whole ordeal. He had been there as they fashioned the pink cast over your arm and he walks beside you now, like your own personal well-dressed shadow.

On your way out, you pass by the receptionist's desk, she smiles over at you but glares at the Salesman. Just as you're about to make it out, you hear her voice.

“You said she's your wife,” the woman speaks up, causing you both to stop. “I don't see a ring.”

Cold, white, fear runs down your spine and your hand that was in his, squeezes as silence envelops you both.

“Good Day,” is all he says with an amicable smile before pulling you along.

Silence enveloped you on your taxi ride over to the Japanese restaurant comfortably situated in the Gangnam district. He had been remarkably quiet in the taxi driver over and he is remarkably quiet now as you're being led to a booth in the restaurant. It's adequately filled with its patrons. Families and couples like perhaps you two were. You wonder if he has these thoughts…

“She did make a good point,” you mumble as you take a seat in the booth, watching silently as he slips in beside you. “If you're going to be telling people I'm your wife and they don't see a ring…”

He sets his briefcase in the booth beside you both, sighing softly as he mumbles, “People don't usually marry their toys, do they?”

Before you're able to respond, a waiter walks up to your booth, having his pen and notepad at attention as he asks for your order. You watch your Salesman expertly lay down your order, everything from yakitori, to miso soup to onigiri. It's mesmerizing watching him order for you and you suspect it had the same effect on you. His hands on your thigh squeezes slightly, while you silently let him order. In a moment the waiter vanishes.

“You're so old,” you say suddenly, trying to make up for the silence and the nervousness raging through your heart. This is the first time you're out with him in a public setting and its setting you alight with worry. “I'm sure you remember when Korea was under Japanese occupation,”

“Keep making your little jokes,” he says, sipping on his complimentary water as he allows his back to rest against the seat, “And I might not be so forgiving…”

His hand rests his hand on your thigh, it's the only thing you're able to focus on. How his fingers cover so much space. The sheer size of it. The sheer size of him. You feel so completely small beside him, you almost don't realize that he's begun talking again.

“My father fought in the war when he was ‘round about your age,” that brings you clean out of your thoughts. Your eyes snap up to meet his but he's staring aimlessly ahead, as if reminiscing on something beautiful.

“Jesus I-” you swallow thickly, “That was a bloody war,”

He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your thigh to undo the buttons of his blazer.

“More than 3 million dead.” He says taking another sip.

“Right.” You nod, heart hammering when he places his hand back on your thigh. “2 million soldiers and 1 million civilians,” he places the glass back down on the table and he shakes his head slightly, twirling his index.

“Swap the numbers around.”

“Right…” you clear your throat, keeping your gaze locked on your lap, “That's... heartbreaking. I'm sorry.”

He turns his head, finally regarding you under the dimness of the hanging light fixtures. He tilts his head to the side in that way he does when he's particularly intrigued by you. “You are sorry, aren't you?”

You nod.

“But I have no idea why, you're not a Japanese fascist from the 40s.”

“No, but I have empathy.”

“Curious.” He replies back, before letting silence fall.

“Spread your legs,” he says so suddenly it gave you whiplash. Your head snaps up to him as you begin to plead.

He couldn't do this. There had to be some sort of refractory period in which he let your body recuperate.

“I’m in pain-” you grit out through your teeth, but his large hand is already seeping to the center of your closed legs, trying to pry them apart.

“Your legs work just fine.” He whispers, letting his mouth graze your ears, “Your cunt works just fine,”

You place a hand on his forearm. “The doctor said no strenuous activities.”

“Do you listen to the doctor or do you listen to me?” He asks, staring at you deep into your frightened eyes, forcing you into that liminal space of submission. Your eyes were brimming with not only fear but embarrassment.

“Spread your legs.” He whispers,

“I'm on my period,”

Another troubling moment of contemplation falls between you both and you're left to stare deep into each other's eyes as the restaurant's cultural music makes the ambience swell. It could be romantic, this energy that's festering between you two.

Even though you know it's anything but, you allow yourself to dip into those pools of delusion.

“You were fine this morning,” He says, and you note the grogginess that's begun to veneer his voice as he looks down at you.

Young, impressionable, darling you.

“I got it before we left, that's why I asked to use the bathroom again- point is,” you tug on his arm, “We can't.”

His eyes soften and for a split second, you think you see kindness there. Your gaze falls to his lips, anticipating the words they'd form.

“Spread your legs,” he says once more, before applying the necessary force to pry them apart yourself. “Let me in, Doll.”

A small whimper escapes you as you open your legs. You let him drift his hand under your skirt. His fingers are cold to the touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he inches them towards your cunt.

The second his fingers graze over your mound you gasp slightly before sitting forward with your head bowed. Your cast is behind the table as you hide your head in your hand. He watches you with heavy eyes, “It's rude to have your elbow on the table.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to muffle yourself by the palm of your hand. You feel him swipe your underwear away. You feel his fingers dip into the pool of wetness at your entrance. Wetness you knew was not arousal.

“Don't look at me like that,” you mumble, staring down at the table as his fingers rub against your slick folds.

“Like what?” He asks.

In your periphery you can see him hunched over you slightly, his eyes on you and you alone. It was tiring having his attention. And so incredibly dangerous.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.”

He bends down, letting his fingers graze over your clit as he whispers, “I do. That's all I wanna do.”

The waitress returns with your food and you mumble a quiet ‘thank you,’ While your Salesman keeps his gaze locked on you.

“Grind down on my hand,” he urges and you shake your head,

“Do it.”

“Or what?” That was probably the worst thing to say to a sadist who looks like he's brimming for you to give him a reason to hurt him.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you.”

You were feeling particularly stubborn today. The injury, the nurse, the hospital, the man and his wife… you're disgusted with this man beside. It dawns on you then that you have to get away from him.

“You can't do that-” you begin to whine but his voice is like steel when he reolies, “I thought we've established that there are many things I can do and very few I can't.”

All is quiet.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you, I've been dying to play in your blood.”

You're still wrestling with either of your options, trying to outweigh the good against the bad was impossible when both choices just seemed bad. It puts you at an unfair disadvantage and you are drowning.

“W-Wait-”

“Times up.” He mumbles before removing his hand from your underwear. You're utterly horrified to find it stained in crimson.

He calls over the waiter, at least having the decency to hide his bloody hand behind your back as he politely says, “My wife is quite sick, could I be pointed to the bathroom, please?” He sounds so amicable, so deceptively kind, of course the waitress quietly urges the two of you to the bathrooms nestled at the back of the resturant.

“I'll do it-” you breath heavile as he urges you past tables, “I'll do just-”

“You picked too late," he whispers in your ear as he steers you into the female bathrooms. “Disqualified.” He says before pushing you into a sta. You could only thank your lucky stars that the stalls are empty but that is where you luck runs dry.

It's only you and your monster who's fervently unzipping his pants before locking you both in a cubicle.

“My arm hurts-” you begin but he turns you around, pushing your back against the door.

“Your cunt still works.” He repeats, “I didn't get to drive a knife into it the last time-” he whispers hoarsely as he plays drunken kisses all across your collarbone. You hate to admit how dizzying the effect of his kisses are. How they carry you off into a completely different mental state- where everything becomes morally grey. You felt like you could get off to almost anything in this state and so you don't bat an eye when he says, “I need to see your blood on my cock,”

In fact, you moan, trying to find your bearings as you slip so far into subspace. “You're not allowed to pass out on me-” he says, manically, breathing oh so heavily as he pulls his cock out over his slacks. “I'm not even using any of our favorite toys, you do not get to pass out.” He warns before slotting himself between your legs.

“W-wait- pull your pants all the way down, otherwise-” you hiccup, “I'll make a mess.”

A deep and low groan reverberates through his chest and you watch him lower his pants all the way down, revealing sculpted legs before he brings his cock to your cunt. It's wet enough to allow him to slide in smoothly, and he looks down between you, pressing down on your tummy as he watches your blood soak his cock.

“Here taste your blood,” He's prying your teeth open and you let him. Crimson floods your mouth and you moan around his fingers. There's a manic sort of edge to his laugh as he admits, “I’m not gonna last quick.” before he's kisses you deeply, grinding himself into you

“Fuck- you're filthy.” His eyes are absolutely insane as he drives his cock into you setting an unforgiving ppace. He snaps his hips against you, trying to drive his cock in further and further.

“Cum- I'm gonna cum-” He pulls back to urge, just as you hear someone walk into the bathroom. He's breathing heavily, surprisingly being mindful of your cast as he dips his hand down to your cunt. His fingers drag across the blood like it's the most fascinating thing on earth, and that has you cunt tightening around him.

A toilet flush, just as a whimper seeps through your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you take his brutal fucking, watching him stab your cunt with his cock like he's daring himself to break you.

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling your violent cries as you buck your hips against him. Your own period pains that were flooding your system is beng fucked away. Your thighs and his pelvis are absolutely stained in crimson and his eyes are rolled back. Thankfully, the door opens and closes and you are alone once again.

“I love playing in your blood-” his voice cracks. Meanwhile, he's using you like a ragdoll. Through it all, you manage to ask the question plaguing your mind.

“Did he…” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut as the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, “Did your dad make it back?”

He rears his teeth, smiling in that twisted way that was far different from the smiles he gave everyone else. Only you got to see him like this. “Yes, Doll, he did.”

“W-What happened to him-oh god-” he picks up his pace grabbing your hips and pulling your cunt down on his cock.

“I killed him.” His eyes roll back into his skull and your mouth falls open. His cum floods your system and in that same moment his pelvis grazes along your clit, triggering your orgasm. You cum with tears in your eyes and it fills you with unmistakable dread.

If this man was capable of ending someone in his own bloodline, who were you in his eyes? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Don't look so scared.” He whispers, still grunting as he emptied himself inside you, “He was useless. You- you're not useless.”

He kisses your face. Everywhere he can.

“You look like you're about to have a panic attack. Compose yourself.”

You breathe in thickly.

In and out.

In and out.

[kisssukuna33]

Thinking about your Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always uses you as his personal food critic whenever he experiments with a new dish. You are the first to taste it before it goes into the restaurant menu. When you question him about it one time he said you're his personal lucky charm because whenever you taste a new dish first it instantly becomes a hit in the menu.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who has a whole wall dedicated to you and the pics of you two together in his restaurant. Oh but did I mention about the big wall art next to those pics? A wall art of you smiling that he painted himself. He still talks about that art piece proudly to this day.

Chef HusbandSukuna! who has no problem attracting customers. His restaurant is widely known in the town as one of the best spots but the only problem he faces is when people come into his restaurant being attracted to something other than his food. You can only imagine the amount of thirsty comments from both men and women under his restaurant reviews.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who HATES it when people flirt with him even after clearly seeing the wedding ring he wears daily. That's why he lets his co-workers do all the serving and he rarely comes out of the kitchen until someone ask for his presence.

And whenever a customer flirt with him or ask for his number he straight up points to the wall art of you displayed in the restaurant and murmur "my wife" as he go back into the kitchen unbothered.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who never lets you cook anything in the kitchen. He always prepare you food and snacks whenever you ask him without complaining and you slowly came to realize that's his way of showing his love for you. And when he prepares food for you it's never anything simple either,he makes sure his wife eats a 5 star meal everyday.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who takes it as personal offense whenever you recommend take out for dinner. He doesn't understand why you want to eat that unhealthy junk shit when you have a whole chef as your husband.

"Just say you don't love me anymore"

"Kuna.. You are being dramatic I asked it for a change not because I don't love your cooking"

"Then marry a fast food worker that way you can eat junk shit everyday"

"Sukuna!!"

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always decorate your bento box so cutely when you go to work. He doesn't miss with the hello kitty shaped rice balls and the heart shaped vegetables everytime. One time you remember your coworker asking if you're married to a woman because they refuse to believe a bento box that cute was a work of a man.

Safe to say your coworker was even more suprised after seeing the intimidating 6'4 tatted man who came to pick you up later.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always knows to prioritize you over his beloved restaurant. You are sick? Yeah he closes the restaurant and stay by your side all day taking care of you. You want to go on a date? Say no more restaurant is closed within a minute. You took a day off ? yeah the restaurant is closed that day. You wonder how he even keep up the popularity of this restaurant like this.

Chef HusbandSukuna! Who always loves telling people the story about how you two met and how his restaurant took off after he started dating you. In his eyes you were a blessing given to him. He always wonder how his life started getting better and better after meeting you. A cold heart that was completely untouched by everyone started melting at the presence of yours.

But one thing he knows is that he's going to cherish the blessing given to him for the rest of his life.

[superhoeva]

the 141 boys with a crying reader is eating me aliveee

the first time you cry in front of gaz is an accident and that man turns into the softest thing you'll ever meet. maybe it's a bad day at work. or a rude dick at the store you stopped at on the way home. regardless, he's allll sweet cuddles and coos. shushing you while kissing your wet cheeks, mumbling that it's gonna be alright, lovie. 'm here, 've got you, yeah?

silence. that's the first thing that comes when soap realizes you aren't faking it. those are real tears falling from your eyes and he's got to do something about it. there's an ache in his stomach when you lull against him, and the man's got to pull himself together before you're both blubbering messes. with no idea what to say, he opts for physical comfort instead. holding you almost too tight, hoping that you can't feel how fast his heart is beating at the sight of you so sad.

price spots the tears before they come. senses the energy in the air as you walk to him with slumped shoulders. what's this now, hm? the question rocks something inside you–breaks the dam–and collapses you straight into his awaiting arms. he ignores your whine when he pulls away, cradling your face and reminding you to breathe. in and out, darlin'. that's good, just breath with me for a bit. whatever it is this time, he'll fix it. make it better, and do the same thing the next time you come before him with a wobbly lip and watery eyes.

what's happened? who did this, i'll kill em. you can't find a break in your cries to answer simon, and this makes him sober a bit. finally, it takes him a second to realize that that's not what you need to hear right now. that version of him isn't who he needs to be right now. so he stuffs down the anger and replaces it with a palm against your back and cradling of your head with the other. he stands completely still, as if you'll break, and stays that way until your sobs revert to soft sniffles. don't 'ave to tell me right now, love, okay? just don't pass out 'n me, alright?

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[shotmrmiller]

getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.

you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?

"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.

also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?

"you're small," he states, as if fact.

small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?

but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.

"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.

he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.

simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.

you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.

(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ come and put your name on it ❞

special treatment : lap edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : gojo satoru + geto suguru + nanami kento + fushiguro toji + hakari kinji

☾₊‧⁺...cw : cockwarming, somnophilia, dirty talk, grinding + dry humping, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, edging, oral fixation, satoru's silly pet names, suguru being smug, kento being a desperate man, toji being toji, kinji being a bully

✧ g. satoru : sometimes gojo knows he fucks you too good to the point you can't think after, something he brags about to you all the time. but when you snuggle up to him, still stuffed with his cock and warm with his cum, he can't help but run his hands all over you. and when he realizes you fell asleep on his dick, his heart squeezes and his cock throbs hard.

"pretty angel, did you fall asleep? oh, that's just precious...you're making my heart squeeze, i wish i had my phone, you look so cute like this." "did you say my name? dreaming about me? god, you're so precious, i could just fuck you like this...shit, don't fuckin' squeeze on me like that, are you having a wet dream right now? god, i love you so fucking much." "aww, my little mochi is so cute! look at youuu, you're gushin' all over the place. messy fucking pussy too small to keep my cock and all my cum inside you." "mm, fuck, pretty thing. you wakin' up? hi pretty girl...oooh, fuck, d-did you just cum? holy fuck, c'mon, baby, on your back, lemme fuck you, princess, let 'toru make you cum again, yeah?”

✧ g. suguru : suguru's softly cooing at you when you sleepily walk into the living room, whining to him that you had a dream and you wanted him to 'fix the problem he caused.' all he can do is just chuckle at how childish and bratty you can be as his hands are moving up and down your sides while he grinds up into you.

"you're such a brat, you know that right? always blaming me for your dreams. it's not my fault you can't stop thinking about how good i fuck you." "hmm? ooh, i see...you keep having dreams of me cumming inside you, hm? are you trying to say something, princess? d'you want me to start breeding you?" "i didn't say stop moving, did i? or do you need me to do all the work? heh, so spoiled, i've spoiled you absolutely rotten." "i know, but just cum once like this, won't you? if you do, i promise i'll fill your cute pussy with my cum, okay? mhm, promise, princess, i'll give you what you need."

✧ n. kento : nanami loves having you close to him, especially when you sit in his lap. it lets him nuzzle his nose into your neck, pressing little kisses where he can while your legs are spread over his strong thighs, his thick fingers leisurely pumping in and out of your needy hole, chuckling against your skin whenever you jolt.

"honey, have i mentioned how gorgeous you are? you look so beautiful like this...spread open and wanting, just for me." "you're sucking my fingers in so well. look at that...do you think you can take a third?" "it's so messy. look at what you've done to my fingers, honey, they're soaked. clean them off for me, i want you to taste yourself before i put them back in. maybe tonight we can make you squirt, hm? do you wanna try, darling?" "you think you're going to cum again? poor thing, your little cunt is so greedy, she just wants to cum over and over again on my fingers...is my cock not good enough for you, mm? aww, don't pout, i'm just teasing you, darling." "i know, i know, it's too much, but you can take it. be my good girl, just take it and keep cumming until you can't anymore."

✧ f. toji : sitting on toji's lap is, in his mind, an invitation for him to run his hands all over you. his cock is already hard in his sweats, but he's subdued the second you get comfortable and slowly grind against him, groaning when you press sweet kisses into his neck.

"tch, are you gonna let me fuck your thighs t'night? pretty please? yeah, that's right, i'm askin' nicely. why? don't play stupid, doll, you know what they do to me." "shit...keep moving those hips, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin' good like this." "god, i can feel that pretty pussy leaking through my sweats. big bad toji make you that fuckin' wet, mama? y'like grinding that clit on my dick through my pants? dirty fucking girl." "mmh, you keep tugging my hair like that and I'm not even gonna take you to the bedroom, i will fuck you into this damn couch, woman.” "listen here, wifey, I'll wreck your cunt until you can't think about anything but me inside you. hell, I'll ruin this stupid couch in the process, i don't give a fuck about stainin' it."

✧ h. kinji : when you sit on kinji's lap, it's when he's watching a fight on tv. you can tell it's not going how he wants it to go, the toothpick between his teeth being gnawed on. when you make eye contact with him, he just raises an eyebrow, one of his hands squeezing your hip.

"cupcake, do me a favor and get on my dick before i get up and give us a reason to get a new tv." "hey, hey, don't move yet, let me see if he lands this punch...don't whine like that before i put my fingers in that pretty little mouth t' shut you up." "you always squeeze so tight when i press down on your tongue like this...pretty thing likes that shit, doesn't she? go on, fuck yourself on my dick while you drool all on my fingers like a slut." "mm, shit, baby, i can't focus on that bullshit fight, lemme help you. yeah, thaaaat's it, let your boy fuck you nice and deep, make ya cream, juuuust like this."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[bi-writes]

idk just thinking about seeing your lieutenant for the first time, this big giant dog of a man, and thinking to yourself, "hmmm yeah, i'm gonna make that thing mine." (18+)

like. i'm thinking about seeing him walk into the room for the first time. fresh off an op, still in all his gear. he's angry cause he's been awake off and on for 40 hours at this point, and he sinks down into a chair in the mess hall, and your eyes bug cause the chair fucking bends with his weight.

and you're just like "omg omg omg holy shit" cause this fucking brute is just huge and beefy, and you had no idea this was your type until you watched his hand curl around a cup and make it look miniature. and you're wondering like "fuck i bet those holsters are custom made" cause you don't think you've ever seen them stretch that far around someone's thigh.

ughghghghgh, and he's dumb as shit, too, or maybe he's just fucking blind. you give him every hint in the book, every indication of how you feel other than pasting a giant neon sign on your forehead that says "fuck me."

you wear the tightest cargo pants you can get. you let the buttons on your shirts go low whenever he's near. you make excuses to see him late, delivering him paperwork in the middle of the night, meeting him out for a smoke (and he's never seen you smoke anything), shuffling your way in front of him in line so you can bump into him and graze your ass against his front. he even catches you this way--even curls his hand around your waist and steadies you before letting you go impatiently.

fuck, bending over in front of him, the obnoxious giggling, the excuses to dangle your tits in his face. you want this man underneath you, on top of you, tangled around you and suffocating you with those enormous arms, and he barely side-glances at you whenever you're in his vicinity, and it's infuriating.

what do you have to do to reel this thing in? how many bones do you have to give him?

how many times do i have to flash my bra at you for you to fuck me over your desk?!

you can't eat another cherry in front of him. you can't drop more sauce onto your cleavage. you cannot come out of the showers in just a towel in front of him anymore because you're going to lose your fucking mind--

you even made out with his beloved little sergeant, his favorite little know-it-all that can't stop blowing shit up. that blue-eyed, insufferable, yapper of a scot that kisses all wet, with teeth, who pants like a puppy when he asks if he can 'ave a taste of y'r bonnie cunt, please, please, please--

and you say yes, because maybe he'll finally fucking shut up if you drown him between your thighs and never let him come up for air.

face down, ass up, cargos around your ankles, hips pushing past against that puppy's stubble as he devours you on his knees. his big hands spread your ass for him, and his thumbs flick over your folds as he opens you up, a cackle leaving him before he opens his mouth wide and kisses your pussy all sloppy and uncoordinated.

when the door swings open and hits the wall with a bang, the puppy tries to leave. he tries to move, but you reach back and grip his mohawk, scowling as you shove his face back where it belongs as your lieutenant stands at the door and heaves with anger.

"uh uh," you snap, and your sergeant on his knees whines, his blue eyes a little foggy and wet as he blinks up at you. but he complies, his tongue slurping, and you flutter your lashes at your lieutenant as you keep johnny muzzled in your cunt. "sorry, lieutenant. is this your office? must've read the sign wrong."

you reel from the contact. a big hand grips you by the hair, slamming you down against his desk, and you choke as you try and gasp for air. like a good boy, johnny settles where he is, shoving his tongue down your hole and moaning low when he realizes you're dripping down his chin now that his lieutenant has you.

"y'think this is funny, eh?" ghost mutters in your ear. "y'think i don't know wot y'r doin'? think i 'aven't caught on, think i 'aven't noticed wot a fuckin' insatiable bloody pain in my arse you've been ever since y'got 'ere?!"

you whimper, relaxing against the desk, and ghost tugs at your hair again, shaking his head.

"oi! y'don't get to be stupid just because y'r gettin' y'r cunny played with," ghost snaps. "y'r a right headache."

you laugh, getting up to your elbows, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as ghost scruffs johnny by the base of his mohawk and cups your pussy with one big hand. you gasp, leaning your head back, because finally, yes, it's all i want, please, please, please--

"'f you wanted to be my pet so bad," ghost murmurs, fitting himself behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he spits into your ear, "all ya had to do was fuckin' ask, swee'eart."

when your eyes open, ghost hums, clicking his tongue under the mask.

"use y'r words," he growls. "be a good girl, and say wot it is y'want."

"want you," you whine, and he sighs deeply, closing his eyes, and you drown out the sounds of johnny sputtering at your feet as ghost bends you at the hip a little more, arching your back.

"mmm...tha'sit. was tha' so hard?"

[oceantornadoo]

Could you maybe write a fic for Simon pursuing a reader who has no experience despite being in her early 20s?

(disclaimer: this ask said early 20s but i didn't really focus on that exact age for reality and inclusivity purposes)

you like to think you're a pretty calm person. have to be, for the kind of work you do - can't be a hothead when you're dealing with hundreds of other hotheads (a.k.a. military men). that environment, seeing the vicious effects of too much testosterone and loyalty to those who don't deserve it, has led you to this predicament. a lack of experience with men. all the ones you've met are loud or self-absorbed and your work is so time-consuming so that when you've found yourself at this precipice, you realize you have no experience to guide you. only a few drunk kisses and one teenage crush to act as the map for the journey you're about to take.

it was odd, how easily you fell into simon riley. he duped you into your first date, calling it a celebratory post-mission dinner when in reality, he'd had the reservations for weeks. it progressed smoothly from there: coffee and ice cream and a scary movie you didn't want to see alone. a few weeks later and you let him into your sacred apartment, a couch no man had ever sat on. he was so respectful, soft words and light touches to get you comfortable with him.

you intrigued simon. it was like befriending a stray cat; one wrong move and he'd be out in the hall. he'd asked around (a.k.a. asked johnny) and found out you'd never dated anyone on base. not surprising, he hadn't either, but your skittish nature led him to believe you'd never dated anybody. you were comfortable with men, sure, but you'd never made any moves on simon despite seeming to like him so much. if he were a less confident man, he would think you weren't interested, but it was in the way your eyes lingered on him, the glances you shot him when you thought he wasn't looking. he decided a conversation was necessary to clear the air so he didn't keep handling you like a bomb that could go off any second.

the two of you were watching footie, a bowl of popcorn in the middle. your hands brushed occasionally as you ate, your knee touching his, but nothing further. simon was well practiced in restraint, and he would wait as long as he needed to, but he felt like he was operating blind, no night vision goggles in sight. "love." it was like flipping a switch. you jumped up, snatching the popcorn bowl and murmuring something about supplying a refill even though it was more than halfway full. he let you have your freakout in the kitchen, giving you time to collect your thoughts. finally, you came back ten minutes later, hand shaking slightly as you put the bowl back down, which was decidedly not full. "can i ask you somethin'?" his hand gripped your knee before you could get up again, settling you back on the couch. your eyes were wide, searching his at a rapid speed as you tried to figure out what he was asking.

"w-what?" he started stroking your knee slowly, thumb brushing over the fabric of your sweats. he didn't answer right away, letting the rhythm of his thumb calm you until your shoulders dropped a fraction. "do i scare y'?" he murmured in a low tone. your shoulders dropped completely, your head collapsing on the couch behind you. you figured it was time to have this talk anyways. "no, it's nothing like that. i trust you, si." he nodded, checking a question off his list. his thumb was still stroking you, the motion anchoring you to the moment. "did someone hurt y'? before me?" you shook your head. "no, it's nothing like that. i just-" you cut yourself off, biting your lip. you chanced a glance at simon, his face open and patient. "i just don't have a lot of experience with men. and it makes me nervous, thinking i'll do something wrong." simon nodded in understanding. "'s while y're so jumpy. how much experience?" you muttered your answer too low for him to hear. "wot?" ugh. "none." oh. oh.

simon was rewriting scripts in his head. no experience was not what he was expecting, but it didn't put him off. if anything, he felt honored you picked him to give you experience. "doesn't matter, love. we can go 's slow as you want. just gotta tell me what y' want." your hand covered his on your knee. "i want you, si. i just don't know how to show it." he squeezed your knee. "trust me?" you nodded instantly. suddenly, you were being moved, strong hands around your waist dragging you into simon's lap. he arranged you into a straddle, setting you back on the middle of his thighs. simon didn't want to give you the wrong idea by putting you on his cock so soon. there was time.

"ya ever kiss anyone?" you gave him a small smile. "not sober. none that i really remember." he laughed, the feeling vibrating through his chest down to his thighs. it was exhilarating, being so close to him and not being scared. you were still nervous, sure, but there was less expectation hanging over your head now that you had talked. "c'mere. we'll take it slow. close your eyes." he sat up a little, a hand on your hip preventing you from being jostled. you closed your eyes obediently, lips parting slightly with the exhale of your breath. you could feel his body heat come closer. he brushed his lips against yours, pulled back, and then gave you a real kiss.

you weren't sure what to do. you had listened to enough advice podcasts to know you shouldn't use any tongue, but that was it. his lips were soft, if a bit chapped, pressing against yours deliciously. he felt so close, so intimate, and you pushed back against him, just a little. it melted your heart a little as he pushed back, warm and willing. your hands instinctively dove into his hair, finally feeling those strands you'd been dreaming about. it went on and on, experimenting with little licks and bites as you got more confident. unfortunately, the more passionate you became, the less air in your lungs. you pulled back with a gasp.

"fuck." his lips were swollen and red, his hair sticking up at all angles. ravished. "good?" he asked, licking his lips. you nodded. "can we do it again?" the eagerness would have made you cringe if you didn't want it so much. "yeah, baby, anytime you want. c'mere."

--

i hope i did this justice!! my first kiss was terrible but i was also 14 so i think it would be better with an experienced man lol

[be-xkyy]

Is it bad that I wanna have the yandere men’s babies? 🫣 Cowboys, Sugar Daddy, etc. I’m curious though how some of them would react if reader was enthused to settle down with them and start a family? 🥰

Please don’t stop the breeding/pregnancy kinks

Hi! that's a good question anon and I'll answer it right now.

Yandere reactions to a reader willing and happy to be with them and have their babies.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Yandere Farmer link

This grumpy man doesn't jump for joy or anything, in his mind he doesn't understand why he would be elated by the simple fact that you know your place and where you belong? You belong beneath him receiving his fat cock in your greedy pussy. End of story.

He already thinks he's old (maybe just a little...) and that he's running out of time to have a family and you accepting your place without making a fuss takes a huge weight off his shoulders, he takes you to live with him that very day and oh... you'll realize that this man has the stamina of a bull and the same softness.

As soon as you arrive he already has you bent over the kitchen table with your cheek pressed against the oak wood while his fat cock abuses your pussy, his fat balls slapping your plush ass with a dirty sound while a large hand holds you tightly by the back of the neck squeezing the little hairs deliciously.

From that day on you will have your poor pussy sore and overstimulated because he will fuck you all the time and at all hours.

He fucks you in the morning when the rooster wakes up and doesn't even crow yet but he's already buried deep in your pussy, he fucks you in the barn on a pile of hay when you go to feed the horses, he fucks you in the afternoon when he takes a break after hours in the field under the sun, he fucks you in the shower when you go to bathe to clean off the dirt from a productive day of work and he fucks you when you go to sleep with his calloused hand squeezing your throat, your eyes are rolled back as he fills your fertile pussy with his thick cum for the eleventh time that day.

That repeats itself every day so it's no surprise when just a month later you find out you're pregnant, did that soften it? No really I keep fucking you mercilessly and squeezing your throat until you see stars but you notice him rubbing your flat belly from time to time.

"The children in my family are big— when the baby grows up you may feel a little uncomfortable at first but don't worry, you will feel better during the seventh or eighth pregnancy."

Yandere Cowboy link

Well, reader actually does like yandere Cowboy (since she doesn't know what a bad person he really is) so from the start she wants to be with him and does what he asks her, she stopped taking birth control when he asked her to, she let him fuck her where he wanted and kept her legs up with a pillow underneath for half an hour so his semen wouldn't leak out because he asked her to.

Besides the fact that he knows how to take advantage of her, she's too young and naive and believes that besides her father he's the only one who loves and values ​​her, so it's normal for her to let him sneak into her room (secretly from her father obviously) to fuck like rabbits, he squeezes her in a tight mating hold that barely lets her breathe keeping her legs pressed down almost touching her ears.

He pumps his fat cock into her pussy frantically as she lets out low mewls, he uses a calloused finger to rub circles on her tiny clit that tightens around his member from the overwhelming pleasure she feels and he lets out a guttural growl as he watches her delicious tits bouncing right in front of his face, with one final thrust he cums deep inside her womb flooding it with his swimmers.

"That was so good baby doll, ugh— ha! I bet after this I'll get you pregnant with twins, and if that's not the case we'll try again and again until it works."

Yandere Dilf link

I'd be over the moon, really. He already believes you're his wife, he's believed it since he first saw you holding his son (very delirious) and for you to accept that fact so happily and willingly to be his, to have his babies, would only increase his already enormous delusions.

You won't be going to college anymore, of course not. You'll stay home to take care of his son and prepare everything for when he comes back from work, as a reward he'll make love to you every night without exception, he'll fuck you fervently with one of his hands covering your mouth, muffling your high-pitched moans while his cock drills your swollen pussy mercilessly.

He'll kiss your tits and neck before licking the salt off your skin as he tells you how much he wants to fill you with his babies, that you'll be the prettiest mother ever, all fat and round with one baby in your belly while you hold the other on your hip, he keeps repeating those things over and over again until he finally reaches the limit by cumming deep inside your swollen pussy just like it should be.

"Darling— let's do it again, what if once isn't enough...? Come on spread your legs."

Yandere Sugar Daddy link

Honestly this man is arrogant as fuck when he sees how happy and willing you are to be his and have his brats, he'll end up gloating while pinching your cheek telling you how proud he is that you came to your senses and are his good little girl.

Obviously he'll take you to live with him in his mansion a big one so his future children can have fun running around all over the place, you'll drop out of your law career after all now you have him and his kids soon so why study? He'll fuck you anywhere, he'll fuck you on his private jet forcing you to ride him while the embarrassed stewardesses serve champagne without making eye contact, he'll fuck you on all fours in front of the fireplace filling you with his cum over and over again scolding you playfully when his cum comes out of your pussy staining his 50 thousand dollar carpet he sticks two fingers in your pussy plugging you.

He doesn’t stop fucking you when he finds out you’re pregnant, he doesn’t stop fucking you when you’re 7 months along and your stomach is all big and swollen, he lays you down on the bed making you ride him you bounce up and down as best you can while his hands rub your ass before moving up to your belly heavy with his child, his child, just the thought of him doing this to you turns him on so much, he ends up cumming inside you every time, without fail.

“Fuck— I wish I could put another one of my babies inside you right now, see you even more swollen with my children. Shit— move again.”

[tonycries]

A ranking of JJK men from best to worst during your period (absolutely no one asked for this):

Nanami - Are you kidding me? In what world would this perfect husband NOT be number one?? Doesn't even need that lil' app on his phone to track your periods, bro remembers. He has it mapped out in his brain AND on his calendar. You don't even have to tell him when it starts, he'll be home with chocolates, your fav movies, and enough heating pads to last a lifetime going, "Hi, my love, I hope m'not too early but I got you these." He's never too early. Never.

Geto - Bro has been through the whole process twice already with his daughters. He KNOWS exactly what's going down when you get just a lil' too sensitive, when your cravings become just a tad sweeter. Would lay you down and give you the most soothing massages whispering about how it'll "all be over soon" and "his girl can tough it out." 10/10 is so patient, even has a period tracker on his phone.

Choso - Y'know he's a lil' confused but he's got the spirit. Curses don't have periods so trust he'll be MAD confused wondering whether you've somehow developed the same jujutsu technique as him. When you teach him though, he's gonna be the sweetest babygirl. Let's you cuddle and use him all you want, throw him around to your hearts content until you have the perfect pillow!! Only minus points would be for that little intrusive thought in his brain that just wants to.....experiment......with his technique....

Gojo - Now, you'd be confused about who has the period - you or HIM? Which, honestly if distraction is your go-to then it works out pretty well. Every cramp you get, Gojo just hates to see his pretty baby in pain, so he'd be crying out. He'd be right there moaning and groaning along with you until you're crying tears of laughter because what the fuck?? Extra points because he's a sweet connoisseur and knows ALL the best places to get you everything you want. Trust, bro doesn't skimp out either he'd be diving IN to that Gojo Estate old money just to get you more than everything you need. Much more.

Toji - Now, hear me out it's not that man doesn't know what to do. It's just that he doesn't want to. Not to bully his cute girl, but does he really have to get out of bed and walk the treacherous block down to the convenience store to get you extra pads? Really? He'd much rather stay in bed cuddling you and kissing every inch of your face he could reach - seriously, his old bones are creaking at the very thought of moving. But, eventually, when you do bribe him with a dollar convince him to go, he'd be pampering you and more with your own money.

Sukuna - Bro definitely tells you to "just suck it back in wtf." -3878473 aura for him, but at least Uraume is on your side and gives him a good whack to the head. When he realizes a bit tho would be a bit softer than usual, at least he'll stop calling you his usual names after your sensitive self tears up at them. Mhm, definitely take him to try out a cramp simulator, though he deserves it.