#can’t have a normal guy in this world

[stardust-falling]

Every SVSSS character is problematic except for Gongyi Xiao. That’s why he had to die.

[rystiel]

rewatching season 3 for the first time in forever rn and. the doctor and jack make me so sick dude. i feel sooooo unwell about them. like imagine you meet rose and the doctor, these amazing people that you find yourself traveling with and coming to care for, then one day you end up left behind by this man that you trusted, alone and fundamentally changed forever—back from the dead. you wait for over 100 years, searching for him, and when you finally find him you learn that he abandoned you on purpose. that he views you as something wrong, something that he can’t stand to look at. a fixed point, something not meant to exist. this guy that you loved and trusted, telling you all of this right to your face. like that’s crazy

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[kittykatninja321]

Is it possible for superheroes to be good parents (or lovers or friends or anything else)? If you’re truly going to martyr yourself for the pursuit of justice doesn’t that mean that at some point you’re going to have to choose the world over your relationships? Yes it’s for the greater good but what mean for the people you love? Did they agree to that sacrifice? (Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t)

[purble-gaymer]

scugs (downpour TOMORROW!!!)

[starscelly]

[arthur-r]

as usual i am up late into the night planning my future when i should be: getting a good nights sleep so that i even have a future!!

[yutaleks]

Thought about akihiro on yuuta’s lap asking him how he got the scars on his face and yuuta telling him some very exaggerated fairytale story of defeating some big bad monster

[sammygender]

if i was shiv roy my anger would be biblical

[badolmen]

Love me a character that at their core is selfish. Even when they do good things it’s selfish and personal but still genuine because they believe in what they’re doing even if they’re only doing it for themself.

Anyways I failed to make a charismatic and likable BBEG he’s a lower tier villain who gets semi-domesticated instead.

[ishades]

.

[makotonaegiunderstander]

thinking about my Tokyo Ghoul au I made for Danganronpa. It was meant to be kind of its own thing, not necessarily doing THH and not necessarily copying the plot beats of Tokyo Ghoul. Either way Makoto takes Kaneki’s place kind of, mainly bc when I read the opening I could not stop thinking about what supernaturally bad luck Kaneki had. And the way Kaneki ended up being the “bridge between two worlds” and represented justice and a means to an end for BOTH sides at different points gave me ‘Ultimate Hope’ vibes. At the same time Kaneki could EASILY be replaced with Hajime due to the conspiracy that Kaneki’s accident was done on purpose to basically experiment on someone to see if they could create the hope they needed. Only reason I didn’t jump to it is bc back then I was sticking Makoto in any scenario I wanted AND there’s another Tokyo Ghoul character that fits Hajime’s story. Anyway. I wanted to toy with the idea of someone who values life and helping others so deeply as Makoto being forced to do horrible things or else lose himself entirely. Becoming something you feared and only viewed as a monster until they revealed themselves to be people, but still horrified to find yourself in the middle. I think Makoto would have a unique reaction and I think he’d lean much more towards self sacrifice and helping try to get both sides to see each other’s humanity much faster than Kaneki did or Hajime would. But he’d also be ashamed and scared of what he’d become and desperate not to hurt anyone, which would be a disaster in the making as the longer a Ghoul goes without eating a person, the more beast like and unhinged they become. It’s not ALL that much different from a vampire au save the fact that there’s no option to just. get a little blood from a living person and leave them just slightly woozy or raid blood bags from donations. You HAVE to seriously injure someone or outright kill them to live, which is what separates the two.

[gottagobackintime]

I upset some I*zy stan with my previous post because I said in my tags that trash shows like Riverdale get season after season while shows like OFMD gets cancelled..

After all these years… am I… am I involved with fandom drama?? Do I get people who hate me and my opinions on my blog now?? Have I made it??

[willowfey]

unexplainable feeling when u decide to check twitter after a long time and there’s always some debate going on about whether a beautiful woman is ugly or not and bc she’s slightly unconventionally attractive and has like yk normal human features everyone is like “i’ve never met a human that even kinda looks like this in my life” “i know this is weeeirrddd but i think she looks kinda good in a weird way?? am i crazy??” “we need to start letting ugly women be famous again, normal people are getting boring” and then a parade of people show up to say “yes, like her —“ posting pictures of the most conventionally attractive and stunning famous women ever. meanwhile everyone else is comparing her to the ugly duckling from chicken little.

does not feel good tho.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[froggibus]

Not Done Yet - Wriothesley

Pairing: Wriothesley x f! reader (reader has a pussy + uses fem pronouns)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: your boyfriend will do anything to keep you from moving to the Overworld

CW: dubcon, breeding, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, overstimulation, fingering, wall sex, dry humping, doggystyle, mating press, lots of dirty talk, praise + degradation, use of ‘good girl’, dom! Wriothesley, semi feral wriothesley , possessiveness, arguing

hello welcome to this episode of kinktober where the Wriothesley brainrot continues. the minute I met this man in game it was just absolutely over for me and I had SO many thoughts of him and ugh. hope you guys like it <3

Kinktober Masterlist

“You want to do what?”

It’s hard not to cower under your boyfriend’s gaze when his eyes have become so chilly. His voice has taken on an angry edge, a ball of electricity forming in your tummy. 

You swallow hard and point your chin. “I want to move.” 

He raises an eyebrow at you, taking a step closer. It’s times like these that you realize how much bigger he is than you, how much more powerful he is than you. The air takes on a bitter cold. 

“Away from here, I mean,” you add, turning your gaze to the dangling chandelier of his office and the warm light it emits. 

“To the Overworld. You want to move to the Overworld and abandon the life you have here.” His voice booms, “you have a home here, y/n. You have me here. And you want to throw it all away so you can work like a dog until the day you die?”

You scoff. “So I can have a real life, Wriothesley. A chance at some normalcy. To get a normal job and have normal food and—and have a family.”

He looks taken aback at your final sentence. The gears in his head turn, slowly processing this. You’ve never talked about having kids before, not with him. Sure, you’re not always the most careful about using protection, but he never thought that would be something that you want. 

He steps forward again, backing you up only inches from the wall. He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, “you’re not leaving me. You can’t.” 

You shiver, though you’re not sure if it’s from the cold air or from the dark look in his eyes. You stare at him defiantly, though every instinct tells you to look away from him. 

You can see your breath when you speak. “I can and I will.”

Wrong answer. 

In an instant, he has you pinned against the wall, one hand with a bruising grip on your hip, the other snaking around your throat. 

His eyes darken as he smashes his lips against yours. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, the sudden pain making you gasp. He slips his tongue between your lips and you suck instinctually. 

He slides his hand down from your hip and under your thigh, lifting it up to his side. He thrusts you against the wall, groaning into your mouth. You whine against him, raising your leg higher to give the growing bulge in his pants easier access to your aching core. 

“Why would you ever wanna leave this, hm?”

His words snap you out of your trance, your hands trailing up to his chest to shove him off of you. Heat surges through your body, your head spinning as if the world is rocking beneath you. 

You take a deep breath and gather your bearings. “We’re not done arguing, Wriothesley.”

“I am,” he pushes you against the wall, using his size to his advantage. He presses himself against your back so that you can feel every twitch of his muscles, every rise and fall of his chest. 

His hands go to your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh. He grinds himself against you, hard bulge nestling between your legs. 

He digs his teeth into your neck, sharp canines grazing the sensitive skin. He gives a rough, playful thrust, and a moan slips out between your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, the heat of embarrassment taking over. 

He gently sucks at the spot he just bit. “That’s what I thought,” he says in that familiar, commanding voice—the one he uses to break up prison riots, or convince you to let him chain you to the bed. 

He slips a hand between your legs to cup your throbbing core, feeling the heat overflowing from your pussy. Another whine slips out, your knees shaking in anticipation, threatening to give out. 

He tightens his grip on your hip to hold you still, his other hand furiously rubbing your clit through the fabric of your pants. You arch your back, letting your knees spread apart to give him easier access. He pulls his hand away and smacks your ass, laughing at the soft moan it elicits. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you back to rub against his cock. You brace yourself against the wall with your hands, leaning forwards with your hand down. He thrusts against you, hard cock grinding against the fabric of his own jeans. 

His other hand slips into the waistband of your pants, trailing down to your soaking panties. He runs a finger along your slit, “god, you’re absolutely dripping.”

You hide your face in your arm against the wall, shaking your head in shame. Wriothesley laughs, pushing his hand into your panties and running it between your lips. You look so cute when you’re writhing beneath him and hiding your face. He can’t wait to see how cute you’ll look when he has your eyes rolling back. 

He rubs steady circles on your clit, your pussy only gushing with more slick as he touches you. You push back against him with every moan, rubbing your ass onto his aching hard on. 

He leans over you, pressing himself against you completely. His lips hover just below your ear, “hm, pretty girl. So nice and wet.”

He dips a finger inside of you, just barely prodding your entrance with the thick tip. Shockwaves rush through you, your hips jutting out with a mind of their own, your pussy clamping down around him. He pushes it in up to the hilt, your gummy walls clamping around his thick finger. 

He curls it inside of you and watches you fall apart around him, a slutty mess just from one of his fingers. He pushes another inside, working you open. Your arms shake against the wall, threatening to give in and make you face plant against it. 

There’s a hot pressure building in your stomach, heating up more and more by the second. Your thighs quiver on either side of his arm, your arms bend inwards, and suddenly you pitch forwards. 

Wriothesley anticipates your fall, keeping his arm tightly around your waist. He holds you up with one arm while finger fucking you with the other. He continues pumping his fingers inside of you, warm juices dripping out of you and coating his knuckles. He can feel you open up around him, the vice grip you had around his digits finally loosening. 

He curls his fingers inside of you one final time, hitting that soft spot within your walls. You cum violently, muscles spasming against your will. Your whole body shudders and you collapse completely into his arms. You keep your eyes closed, trying to regain control of your senses as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. 

When you finally open your eyes, you’re laying on his bed with your clothes off. Wriothesley stands at the end of the bed, also naked and stroking his hard cock. The dark lighting of the bedroom only makes him look more defined, the contours of his abs and arms making you drool. 

He kneels on the bed in front of you, fisting his cock. You find yourself staring at the bulge of his biceps, the contour of his abs, the precum dripping down the tip of his cock. You’re barely aware that he’s propping you up on your knees, running his hands over the swell of your ass. 

He dips a finger into your puffy pussy. You shudder from the sensitivity, your walls fluttering around his finger. 

He squeezes your ass and pulls his finger out. “Hm, I think you’re ready.”

“Ready?” You ask weakly, your face pressed into his pillows. 

He rubs his cock through your folds, collecting all of your slick onto his tip. “Ready for me to fuck you,” he says, lining his tip up with your entrance. “Ready for me to ruin you.”

His words send a chill up your spine, the undertone of his voice something entirely foreign to you. You have no time to ponder what it means before he’s pushing his cock inside of you. 

No matter how many times he fucks you, no matter how long he prepares you for, it’s always a stretch. He’s so big that he fills you completely, the head of his cock pressing against that spot inside of you perfectly. He parts your walls around him, an almost painful stretch. 

He keeps a hand on your hip, using it as leverage as he pulls out and drives himself into you. He keeps a desperate, brutal pace, bottoming out with every thrust. The curve of his cock has him rubbing against your walls, pressing into your g-spot with every shift of his hips. His balls smack against your pussy, shining with your juices. 

His hand digs in hard enough to bruise, the other reaching around to rub your clit. “So tight,” he groans, “ ‘s like your pussy never wants me to leave.”

You whine, bending your back and allowing him a better angle. He slams into you roughly, knocking all of the breath out of your lungs with the impact of his hips against yours. 

His thrusts start to get sloppier, his orgasm building right along with yours. He pulls you up so that your back is flush with his, his cock getting dangerously close to your cervix. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, kissing at your neck, “fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-me too!”

He pounds into you at a desperate pace. “G-gonna cum inside you,” he groans. “Gonna fuckin’ cum in you, cum right inside that little womb of yours.”

“Wrio~”

He shoved you forwards. “Gonna breed this pussy, hm? Then you’ll have to stay with me—fuck.”

His cock twitches inside of you as he bottoms out for the last time, holding you flush to his thighs as hot ropes of cum fill you up. He sucks and bites at your neck as he finishes cumming inside of you, letting you fall onto your face against the bed. 

He keeps his cock inside of you, effectively plugging you with his cum. He gives you no time to recover before he’s flipping you into your back, throwing your legs over his shoulders. 

“Wrio—it’s too much!” 

He smirks at you, something feral behind those crystalline eyes. “You’re not going anywhere,” he grunts, thrusting into you. “Not until you’re nice and full.”

You’re surprised that he manages to keep the pace he does, fucking his cum back into you with renewed vigour. He leans over you, giving himself better access to slam into your pussy. You cry out with every thrust, raking your nails down his back.

It’s so sensitive, it’s too much, but fuck, does it feel so good. “T-too deep,” you whine, your own words sounding foreign and far away to you. “Too big.”

He laughs, “but you’re taking it so well, sweetheart. And doesn’t it feel so good?”

You nod, babbling incoherently into his ear. Sweat beads down your temples, tears coat your lashes. Your skin takes on a feverish sheen, but you don’t care. All you care about is the feeling of his cock slamming into you and how his arms flex with every thrust. 

His thrusts start to get sloppy, his pace slowing down to a steady rhythm. He lets himself collapse on top of you, effectively folding you in half. 

“Gonna fill you up,” he groans. “Gonna fucking breed you and keep you nice and full. Make you my little whore and keep you here with me.”

You whine, black spots starting to crowd your vision. His thrusts are slow and deep now, his hips moving into you brutally. 

“You’d like that, hm? You said you wanted a family,” he bottoms out inside of you, his cum flooding your pussy. “I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

The combination of his cum and his cock inside of you has you feeling so full it almost hurts. Your senses have dulled, all of your thoughts of leaving having been fucked away. 

Wriothesley lays on top of you, bowing his head into your shoulder. His dark hair tickles your collar bone, his lips pressing against the flushed skin of your chest. 

“Did so well for me,” he mumbles into your skin, “such a good girl.”

You can only nod, running your fingers through his hair to try and ground yourself. You lay there in silence for a while—just him breathing into your chest and you stroking his hair. 

After a while, he props himself up. That same soft look has returned to his eyes, “you’re not really going to leave, right?”

It’s posed like a question but sounds more like a plea. His cock is still inside of you, more and more cum running out as it’s softened. You still feel dizzy from the overstimulation, but looking at him now, you don’t see how you could possibly leave. 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m not going to leave.”