djarinova

[djarinova]

going to bed thinking about him <3 peace and love

[djarinova]

. . . 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 ࣪ ִֶָ ⚔︎.

────── 𖦏 ──────

BREAKING NEWS: Princess Emelia, daughter of the King and Queen of the great Kingdom Aquabore, has gone missing.

The elusive Princess was last seen by head chef Mikael—a man who has lived and worked in the palace since before Emelia was born. He tells us that he brought a hot drink and a platter of in-season fruits to the princess, who had been reading in the palace library, but when he returned to collect the dishes he found the fruit had not been touched. There was no sign of a struggle.

Our sources say the palace has sent out multiple search parties, as well as hiring two of the most sought out private investigators this side of the north sea and enlisting help from at least five neighbouring countries.

The King and Queen have yet to comment publicly on their daughters disappearance.

[djarinova]

coral pngs ! free to use! credit not needed but appreciated :)

[djarinova]

Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

I LIKE IT ROUGH

tags: DILF!Bruce, established relationship, grinding, humiliation, praise + degradation, little bit of dacryphillia, he’s really condescending, and uh.. a belt!

a/n: clue is in the name I suppose..!

wc: 1.9k | masterlist

You knew from the start it wouldn’t be easy to convince him.

“You want me to what?” Bruce stared at your reflection, bewildered as he watched you carefully apply your mascara that fateful morning.

“C’mon Brucie, you heard me.”

Well, yes. Bruce did in fact hear you. Loud and clear.

He just hoped it was his old age deceiving him. He’s not 20 anymore, you know? Give him a break.

“What’s next? You want me to toss you straight into Arkham Asylum?”

“Bruce,” You huffed slightly, tilting your head back to glance at him with a hint of a pout on your lips, just for good measure.

“You want me to hit my wife.” He stared at you, almost offended at the very thought of truly disrespecting you like that.

Sure, he’s slipped up once or twice when you two really got into it on some nights, occasionally forgetting just how strong he is.

He was reluctant at first, you knew he would be.

“I’m just saying, would it be so bad if I asked you to yank me around a little?”

“Yank you around,” Bruce muttered to himself, leaning over to inspect your tea - simply checking if you’ve switched out your usual drink for hard liquor before breakfast.

The man had meetings to attend, he couldn’t afford to have his brain occupied with all that because of you.

He expected it to be one of those things you’d randomly hyper-fixate on for a couple of days before you got bored - you’ve done it before, wanting decorators to redo the whole kitchen into a slightly different shade or some other silly, fleeting thought of yours.

But it wasn’t.

You didn’t let up.

For a while, you wholeheartedly believed that you could bat your lashes into convincing your husband to be mean to you.

Sure, you didn’t outright ask Bruce about it again, but your hints really weren’t subtle.

You were more petty than usual, almost like you were trying to get on his nerves, trying to push him into reacting.

Unfortunately for you, your husband had nerves of steel paired with Herculean amounts of self-control.

Up until tonight, that is.

You wanted Bruce mean, right?

And mean he is, head tilted back as he watches you with a lazily arched brow, thumbs pressing into your hipbones to make you grind your hips down against his slacks even harder.

You wouldn’t even mind if he were in the same state as you are, but he isn’t. Far from it.

He’s as composed as ever, he hasn’t even loosened his tie, all while you’re grinding your pussy against his clothed thigh.

“You’re ignoring me,” you huff under your breath, fingers haphazardly tugging the neat collar of his shirt every which way, your cheeks burning with something that isn’t quite embarrassment.

“Am I?” Bruce sighs, quickly catching your wrist before you manage to pull his shirt open, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“Bruce-”

“B-Bruce” he’s mocking you, voice syrupy-sweet, head tilted to the side like you’re being unreasonable here.

“It’s what you wanted right?” Bruce shrugs, bouncing you in his lap a little harder just to hear you whine a little louder, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little in an effort to hold back a smirk.

“N-no,” you swallow, trying to ignore how the way he’s looking down at you makes your clit throb, writhing your hips only makes it harder to hide the trails of slick dripping down your thighs.

“Not like this,” your voice cracks slightly, trying not to give in to the urge to just break down and ride his thigh.

Bruce doesn’t say anything, he likes to see you get a little antsy sometimes.

He just clicks his tongue once more, hands sliding down to your thighs to bounce you up for a moment.

“Why not?” He finally speaks, letting go of your thighs to tilt your face up to his, thumb lightly pressing into your bottom lip.

“Are you embarrassed? I mean, you’re still getting off on this, look at you,”

There it is again, that little hint of amusement in his eyes that you can barely make out with how glassy yours are, shaking his head slightly as he stares down at the mess you’ve made of his slacks.

“And I haven’t even taken my clothes off, you want my cock that bad?” His lips brush against your cheek, not quite kissing you as he presses his thumb down against your tongue.

“Yes,” You nod dumbly, of course you do. Of course you want him, of course you want this.

He watches you for a moment, like he’s soaking up your desperation before he pulls his hand away.

“Up,”

You stare at him for a moment, almost ready to protest before his firm hand lands a slap on the side of your thigh.

“Get up,”

His eyes don’t leave your body for a second, both hands now on your lower back so you’re kneeling on the mattress with him behind you, just close enough for you to feel his boner bumping against your bare ass.

“Y’gonna hit me or somethin?” The question leaves you before you even realise, thighs shaking a little as he grinds his clothed dick against you.

“Hit you?” Bruce mumbles under his breath like you’re crazy, one hand reaching down to undo his belt with a soft clink.

His other hand reaches out to hold your jaw between his fingers, gently tilting your head back against his chest.

“Why would I want to do that?”

Your lips part for a moment, breath a little shaky as you feel something gently sliding around your neck, followed by that familiar little clink.

Bruce huffs out a small laugh at the squeak you make, giving the belt a sharp tug, forcing you back onto your knees, his chin hooking over your shoulder.

“Don’t complain,” he warns, though it’s not entirely mean-spirited.

“You wanted me to yank you around, right?”

His other hand moves to unbutton his slacks, pushing his boxers down his thighs, cock already flushed and leaning as he rubs it between your folds.

“Answer me,” Bruce grits out, giving the belt another firm pull to make sure you’re listening.

“Y-yes,” you manage to whine under your breath, desperately trying to line your hips up with his.

“Bet you want me to slut you out too, huh?" He hisses, barely giving you a second to adjust before he’s slamming his cock into your needy pussy, grip on the belt still rough in case you forget your place.

“It’s all you’ve been fucking talking about, isn’t that right? Nothing else going in that pretty head of yours?” He’s relentless, one hand reaching down to roughly circle over your clit, his thick cock stretching you out with each thrust.

“You think it’s okay to distract me with all that? All f-fucking week,” He can’t help it, each thrust of his hips is meaner, harder than the last.

“M’sorry,” is the only word he can manage to make out from your slurred whimpers, your head falling forward into the pillows before he gives the makeshift leash a yank again.

“Oh I’m sure you are, wantin’ your husband to treat you like a fucking whore, letting me yank you around like a bitch,” Bruce hisses, hand finding your jaw so you don’t even think about hiding your face.

“Bruce, f-fuck,” He can feel the tears starting to roll down your cheeks and onto your neck, your back arching under him as your cunt takes him deeper with every messy thrust.

“You’re crying already but you’re fucking throbbing around me huh?” He’s breathless, pulling on that belt like it’s the only thing keeping you close, as you writhe under him.

“Look at that,” he pants, letting your neck go to land another firm slap across your ass, cursing under his breath when your pussy clenches around him even harder, “Like you’re trying to f-fucking run from me but you’re taking me so good,”

“Please,” you whine under your breath, voice cracking as your back arches against him, “Bruce, s’too m-much,”

You’re nearly sure you’re crying now - soft, hiccuping nonsense between your little whines. You’re dizzy, you can barely breathe, but it’s not just cause of the belt.

Part of him wishes he could see your face right now. Your eyes always look so pretty looking up at him, a little watery, and all glassy with tears. His heart twinges at the thought.

“You can take it, bein’ so good for me.” Bruce insists, knuckles almost white as he grips the end of the belt.

“Don’t tell me I’m too mean for you, sweetheart,” Bruce can switch from caring to condescending so quickly it makes your head spin, his mocking coos are always sure to make you dizzy.

“You wanted this,” He reminds you with each mean slam of his cock into your already overstimulated cunt, fingers still working on your clit just to hear you sob a little louder.

“Who knew my wife was a masochistic little slut, huh Mrs Wayne?”

“Bruce, I c-can’t,”

“You c-can’t?” Bruce mocks you, pulling his cock almost all the way back before slamming into your messy cunt again.

“You know you can, you wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” His teeth press into his bottom lip to hide the dazed grin that’s spreading across his face, messy strands of his salt and pepper black hair clinging to his forehead.

“Especially after yapping about it all week,” He’s talking to himself at this point, all you’re able to do is moan.

You can hardly tell if he’s actually pissed about that or if he’s just putting it on - either way, you don’t care.

You’re just clenching around every mean thrust of his dick like your pussy can’t let him go, the pressure of the belt around your neck just adding to how dizzy you are.

“I mean f-fuck, if you told me you wanted me to fuck you like a whore I would’ve done this earlier,”

“C-can’t, m’gonna cum,” you sniffle, your voice a desperate mix of pleasure and embarrassment every time he yanks that belt around your neck, his precum already leaking out of you as it drips down your thighs.

“Good girl, that’s it.” he breathes, fingers still at your clit, circling fast and rough as he nearly pulls out before slamming his cock into you again.

“C’mon, show me how much you love getting wrecked like this.” his fingers move faster, his hand shaking as he grips the belt and you’re done for, your aching pussy clenching tight around him, every part of you trembling.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Bruce groans, his voice almost breaking, his hips stuttering as he watches your back arch, your choked out sobs, your moans, your drooling cunt pushing him over the edge as his thrusts falter.

He pulls out slowly, like he can't let you go, his release spilling down your thighs as he pushes his face into your neck with sloppy little kisses, reaching a hand up to fumble with the belt buckle.

“Mean enough or should I fuck you harder next time?”

B.Wayne masterlist

a/n: should I get my lobotomy in Claire’s before they shut down??

thank u for reading!!!!

[djarinova]

your shitty boyfriend has been begging you to have a threesome where he invites another girl, you half-wonder whether he’s just presenting it this way so it’s not technically cheating, just trying to placate the truth — he wants to fuck some other girl.

only for the girl to be so in love with you, entirely focused on you. he’s the excuse, really. can’t you see how much better she is at taking care of you? how good it feels to be with her?

“you’re so beautiful,” her voice is so breathless, her hair a shimmer curtain that falls gently over her shoulders, tickles against your face. you barely even register your boyfriend behind you. “you look so beautiful when you come. does he ever tell you that?”

[djarinova]

I can't believe I didn't know that christian bale was welsh..... like.... he's from the very west of wales..... what the hell

[djarinova]

everyone saying you can like comments now... does this fomo mean im going to have to update my app... we shall see

[djarinova]

everyone talking about kins but i simply do not know myself like that </3

[djarinova]

HE'S SUCH A DILF ( bruce wayne! )

summary | Bruce's wife is already four months pregnant, and her hormones aren't letting her live in peace. She can't stop seeing her husband for what he is: a hot DILF.

pairing | Bruce wayne x pregnant Wife!reader

cw | suggestive, pregnant woman hormones, pregnancy

note | I have a drama dilemma that I didn't think of before, HOW THE HELL DO I INTUITIVE JASON INTO THE FAMILY? any ideas??

hot wife serie / thoughts

Creating a life inside you was a disaster at first. Between the nausea, the smells that suddenly made you repulsive, and a seemingly endless tiredness, you almost forgot how beautiful pregnancy could be. But the first three months were behind you, and with the arrival of the second trimester, the energy, the smiles returned and an absurd level of desire you'd never felt before.

The doctor had warned you at your last appointment about the changes he was about to go through, but nothing could have prepared you for this. From the moment you opened your eyes in the morning, all you could do was stare at your husband, wondering how he could have looked more attractive with each passing day. You spent the day staring at him, like he was a magnet for you. Every wrinkle around his eyes, every strand of hair that looked slightly lighter because of the gray hair that was starting to show, every movement seemed planned by him to drive you crazy, because absolutely everything about Bruce Wayne set you on fire.

It was almost ridiculous. Sometimes you found yourself staring at him in silence for minutes on end, not really listening to what Alfred was saying or even noticing that your mouth had dropped open. And the worst part was, he didn't do anything extraordinary at all. He just existed. He'd walk down the hall adjusting his cufflinks, read the newspaper with a slight frown, roll up his shirtsleeves to help you with whatever you needed, and you felt like you were about to burn.

You unconsciously ran your tongue over your lips, squeezing your legs together every time he leaned down to place a casual kiss on your forehead. Even his voice seemed deeper, lower, as if he wanted to provoke you directly. Some nights you woke up agitated, with your heart racing and a ridiculously urgent need to feel him between your legs. And when you watched him sleeping next to you, so peaceful and perfect, all you could do was slide your hand over his chest and think, "What a hot man."

But there came a point where it didn't always happen inside the house, and you were supposed to work through this fixation you had with him; even if it was something so difficult, seeing him walk with that big muscular back and those thighs that stood out too well when he sat with his legs a little wider than usual, just overwhelmed you.

That's why you were having a difficult time at the Wayne Foundation meeting you and your partner were having. No matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the reports or the annual projections, not even embarrassment could stop you from thinking about your man. Everyone was absorbed in reviewing reports, analyzing charts, and discussing budgets with great effort, but all your willpower to keep up with them all was gone every time Bruce leaned forward to speak. His shirt tightened around his biceps, and your brain stopped processing any useful information.

You bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing discreetly. The letters on the report in front of you began to become an illegible mess. The only things occupying your mind were how incredibly well the veins in his forearm stood out when he held the pen, how broad his chest looked from your angle, the way he frowned slightly before jumping into a conversation.

Every little gesture of his warmed you up. So much so that you didn't even realize when you slid your hand under the table, searching for his thigh as if it were an automatic gesture.

You touched him with your fingertips first, barely brushing him, but the mere contact made you lose what little self-control you had left. It no longer mattered if there were other people at the table: you began to caress his thigh very slowly, drawing small circles on the fabric of his pants.

Bruce didn't react at first. He sat perfectly upright in his chair, his expression neutral. But you saw the slight tremor in his jaw muscles every time your fingers moved a little higher.

At one point, he rolled up his sleeves to sign one of the documents, and you were seconds away from groaning. Literally. You had to look up at the ceiling, biting your lip to keep from blurting out an indecent comment.

You barely turned your face to glance at him. He didn't even look at you: he took a deep breath, casually rested his elbow on the table, and ran a hand over his jaw, trying to calm himself down. You couldn't blame him. Every time he'd done that to you, you'd want to rip his head off for everything he did. He always ended up fucking you hard on the table as a way of making up for how quiet you were, and now you wouldn't mind if that happened.

And it was then, with your hand still on his leg, that he finished speaking and everyone else began to close their folders and stand up. Still with your heart pounding, you calmly dropped your hand, as if you hadn't been about to run it up her entire thigh.

Bruce waited for the others to leave. He didn't move until the door closed behind the last attendee. Bruce slowly turned his face toward you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and desire.

"And that look you had during the whole meeting?" he asked, his voice so low it made you shudder.

You leaned toward him, still holding his hand, and whispered directly into his ear with that goofy smile of yours. "I can't help it," you whispered cheekily. "I was thinking about how nice your arms looked when you rolled up your shirtsleeves. I wanted you to put them around my neck."

You noticed the slightest movement of his jaw, the slightest catch in his breath. You saw him close his eyes for a second. And you knew, without a doubt, that as soon as you walked through that door, Bruce Wayne would stop being patient with you.

Three seconds in which he said nothing, didn't gesture, didn't even change his expression, but in which he became something else entirely. He left the documents neatly aligned on the table, adjusted his sleeves with a terrifyingly dangerous calm, and gently took your wrist, as if he simply wanted to help you get up from the chair.

"Come," he murmured, his deep voice running down your spine like an electric shock.

You stood up instantly without a second's hesitation, letting yourself be dragged down the empty hallway, listening only to the sound of his footsteps and the pounding of your heart, racing because you were going to have what you wanted. He didn't take you too far. He barely turned a corner and opened the first private office he found, closing the door behind you, still holding your wrist.

He pinned you against the wall with his body, resting a hand on the side of your head as he looked down at you with those dark shadows in his eyes.

"My wife needs me so much, doesn't she?" he asked in a deep whisper, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. "How could I not consent to my wife carrying my baby?"

Your smile turned almost delirious as you nodded, bringing your hands to his waist to pull him towards you. “I want you to put them on me right now,” you murmured. “And don’t stop.”

He didn't respond. All you heard was the sound of his breathing before his lips crashed onto yours and his arm wrapped around your neck exactly the way you'd wanted it, firm, possessive, warm.

He kissed you with an intensity that made you gasp against his mouth, while his other hand slid around your waist, squeezing you as if to remind you that you were his. And you clung to his shirt, not caring that you were right in the Foundation building, letting out a soft moan against his lips as his body pressed completely against yours.

That was a great memory from Monday of last week; after that day, there were many situations that left you more than satisfied. That week had been completely crazy, as had your hormones, but that problem was still there. Besides making you horny for your husband, it made you the person with the least filters in the world. You no longer thought for a second before speaking and saying anything about Bruce, and that left people a little dizzy.

Friday night finally arrived, and the Wayne Foundation gala had arrived. It always seemed like a rather fun, elegant, and predictable ceremony, but now, with the week you'd had and your raging hormones, every minute seemed to stretch on forever. You found yourself watching Bruce from the entrance, as he greeted the investors with that natural calm that drove you crazy, and you couldn't help it, a shiver ran through your body.

Diana approached with that confident smile she always had, but this time it was accompanied by a playful tone given the situation, she discreetly placed herself next to you. "Mrs. Wayne, I think you should pretend a little," she whispered, barely touching your ear.

You didn't try to hide it. You gave him a half-smile, and while keeping your eyes fixed on Bruce, you replied, "I can't, Diana. Look how good he looks today. He looks like a damn Daddy. It's impossible not to want him."

At that moment, Hal, Barry, and Clark joined you, making small talk about the gala, the attendees, and the sponsors. But you were barely listening; your attention was completely on Bruce, who moved through the crowd with an elegance that made you gasp internally.

"Wow, the organization is impeccable," Hal commented, taking a glass of champagne. "The lights, the music, the girls, everything is just too perfect."

Barry, pointing to a passing tray of canapés, said, "And the appetizers aren't far behind either. Anyone want to try the mini quiches? They're incredible."

Clark, with a calm smile, added, “Definitely… although I still wonder how they manage to get all the guests so punctually without causing chaos at the entrance.”

As they chatted, you nodded, feigning interest, but your mind wasn't there. Your gaze remained fixed on Bruce, who greeted the investors with that grace that made you gasp uncontrollably. Every time he bowed slightly, the fabric of his suit tightened over his biceps and your heart pounded.

And then, without thinking, your lips let out something completely inappropriate. "I hope he fucks me in that suit tonight..." you murmured in an audible whisper, biting your lip and rubbing yourself.

Hal merely raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at you, while Clark took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. Diana, at your side, just stifled a laugh and gave you a knowing look, clearly enjoying the three men's silent discomfort.

Meanwhile, Bruce finished speaking with the investors and began to approach you, his gaze fixed on you. The tension you had generated didn't go unnoticed, and his expression was a mixture of exasperation and suppressed desire.

"Is everything okay?" he asked casually as he reached your side, placing a hand on your back.

"Perfectly," you smiled, although you could still feel the tense gazes of the others on you.

You leaned down to his ear calmly, as if you hadn't said anything out of place a minute ago, and murmured in a husky voice, "If there weren't so many cameras... I'd get down on my knees right now and show you how good I'm feeling these days."

You felt his hand on your back tense, his fingers lightly pressing into the fabric of your dress. Bruce didn't respond. He just looked at you for a second, that delicious darkness forming in his eyes, and then he slid his hand down to your waist.

"Excuse us" he said in a low voice, addressing the rest.

And before anyone could react, he elegantly, and almost discreetly, took your arm and led you out of the circle, leading you toward one of the hall's side aisles. His steps were calm, controlled… but his hand tightened around yours betrayed how desperate he was.

You didn't have to ask where they were going. You didn't even have to get to the elevator. Bruce led you behind a large curtain, toward a private gallery, and slammed his body against yours with a tense breath, gently pushing you against the wall.

A shiver ran down your spine as you arched your body toward him, instinctively craving more contact. “Brucie, please…” you murmured huskily, stroking his arms through his suit. “I just wanted you to know how you make me feel…”

Bruce closed his eyes for a second, controlling himself, then lowered his hand from your waist to slide slowly down your side, just beneath your dress, making you gasp softly. “If you only knew how much…” he began, stopping, catching his breath, “how much I want to take you right now…” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck.

You leaned against him, hands running over his back and chest, feeling every muscle tense beneath your fingers. The mere touch of his suit drove you wild, and every word he said made you wish the world would disappear so it would be just you and him in that private gallery. "Bruce..." you gasped, pressing your legs against his. "I can't wait anymore..."

His response was a deep, possessive kiss that left you breathless, while his hands watched your every movement, as if he wanted to engrave you in his memory at that moment.

[djarinova]

Bokuto goatee

[djarinova]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑬𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 ♥︎

LOG ENTRY 8.3.25. the definition of he fell first and she fell harder.

we’ve come a long way since we met three years ago, when i swore i held no affections for a man who’s come to mean so much. and yet, ever determined, zoro rooted himself into my life and never thought to budge, becoming a grounding anchor amongst the turbulent tide.

the stars linger faintly overhead in the quiet hush of night as chopper curls amongst the covers, lulled into slumber by the gentle sway of the ship and the petal soft snores that drift through the room.

morning blooms, our bodies woven together as one. the sun’s warmth washes over the world yet our love remains as soothing as moonlight, as certain as dawn. and in this tender moment, i belong.

the amoro anniversary art ( ྀིஇ﹏இ`｡) !! ꒰ by marimo_fr ꒱

[djarinova]

redraw of my old artwork

[djarinova]

The UK may be about to ban VPNs!!!

RED ALERT! THIS IS REALLY BAD!

EVERYONE IN THE UK NEEDS TO PUSH BACK ON THIS NOW! LIKE RIGHT NOW!

If you live in the UK you should sign this petition against the age verification rules linked to this becasue they this law is already a legal and privacy nightmare!

and contact your MPs!

Contact Ofcom here:

[djarinova]

“I asked chatgpt-” yeah well I asked special agent aaron hotchner and he said the unsub is a straight white male in his 30s

[djarinova]

how many blorbos have you had since 2020 cuz my friend said 46 and now she’s having a crisis 😭

[djarinova]

me vs the desire to use emelia in all of my sanji selfship aus

[djarinova]

. . . 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 ࣪ ִֶָ ⚔︎.

────── 𖦏 ──────

BREAKING NEWS: Princess Emelia, daughter of the King and Queen of the great Kingdom Aquabore, has gone missing.

The elusive Princess was last seen by head chef Mikael—a man who has lived and worked in the palace since before Emelia was born. He tells us that he brought a hot drink and a platter of in-season fruits to the princess, who had been reading in the palace library, but when he returned to collect the dishes he found the fruit had not been touched. There was no sign of a struggle.

Our sources say the palace has sent out multiple search parties, as well as hiring two of the most sought out private investigators this side of the north sea and enlisting help from at least five neighbouring countries.

The King and Queen have yet to comment publicly on their daughters disappearance.