#insane to think about it and I know it's weak and pathetic but I have to choose to stay just barely sane enough to stay alive

[running-in-the-dark]

.

[lxnarphase]

want me to give you another one? ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

☾₊‧⁺...ft : gojo satoru + geto suguru + fushiguro toji + ryomen sukuna

☾₊‧⁺...cw : breeding kink, praise kink, spit kink, reader gets called 'mommy', dirty talk, teasing, overstimulation, satoru goes insane from pussy, suguru wants a girl this time, toji being in love with his wife, sukuna doesn't like when people insult his soon-to-be-wife, sukuna is dating single mom!reader

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : i really wanted to do the 'our baby is so cute, i want another one' 'yeah? you want me to give you another baby?' trope so here we are ❤︎ i couldn't think if i wanted to do others but if you'd like more please let me know ! ❤︎ also, the toji one ? is actually a sneak peek of a longer fic i'm working on ehehe

✧ g. satoru : it starts off with you nuzzling in satoru's arms as he watches tv. satoru notices that you began to get clingier after you put your baby girl to bed. every night, you would press against him as if you wanted to merge with him and he couldn't help but tease you about it. so when he feels you nipping his neck and your hand running under his shirt? when he hears you oh-so sweetly whisper, "don't you want to give me another baby, satoru?" into his ear? he's eagerly nodding, ready to do whatever the mother of his first baby wants. but instead of letting him on top...you climb over him and that look in your eye tells him everything he needs to know : he's fucked.

"baby, baby, baby, please," satoru whines, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. he feels like he has no control of his hips, he's so sensitive, but he can't stop fucking up into you. not when you're like this, practically buzzing with need and crazed energy. "c'mon, s'toruuuu," you purr, hands splayed out on his chest. "cum f' me again? please, honey, you only came once, 's not enough." the room is hot, both of you covered in a sheen of sweat. how long have you both been going? he didn't remember, he lost count of how many times his hips desperately pressed up, shooting his hot load into your wet, needy pussy. but you just wouldn't stop. not that he minded, but fuck, you were making him so brainless. he can feel his thick cum gushing out of you each time you lift your hips, dripping down his cock and balls, onto the mattress. "h-hah, it's so fucking messy," he groans, unable to stop himself from cumming again. "f-fuck me, baby, t-there's so much cum, y'r pussy is so fuckin' sloppy." you just won't stop milking him, your soft and wet walls massaging him as you moan just from the feeling of being filled up again. god, you were making him insane, what got into you— his eyes snapped up to you when he felt the wet drop of one of your tears on his chest. those pretty lashes of yours were getting wet with tears as he felt your thighs starting to shake, a weak moan leaving you. "c-can't," comes a pathetic sob, your hips desperately grinding down on his cock, moaning when you feel it throb. "c-can't stop, 'toru, 's not enough, i need it, n-need it so bad!" when you finally look at him and make eye contact, he feels like he's been shocked because you look a mess... "give me another baby, 'toru, i want another one, gimme another one, please—!" with no hesitation, his feet are planted into the mattress and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he pounds into your dripping cunt, feeling himself cum just from the wail you let out into his ear. but he doesn't stop, he can't stop, not when his wife, his honey, his baby needs him to knock her up again so badly. "'m gonna give you whatever you want," he pants, his skin feeling like he was touching a live wire. "give it t'you 'til 'm empty, baby, gonna fuck you good, make sure it sticks, just like you, f-fuck, like y'want, yeah?" he feels you nod frantically against him, unable to speak from the way his cock drilled up into your pussy, tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. "y-yeah, you want that, you fuckin' want that, s-s'just take it, baby, let me give you another fuckin' baby."

✧ g. suguru : your son had just turned one so you and suguru let his nieces, nanako and mimiko, come over to have a little celebration. seeing the way you cared for the twins and your baby boy the entire day made him think. his son was still a baby and had a lot of growing, but he knew the kid would look just like him with a few of your features. he's always wanted a girl, and helping his sister take care of the twins as they grew up only made the desire stronger. the two of you mentioned having another baby at some point, but the rest of the week, all he could think about was trying to get you pregnant again, maybe give you a girl this time...who knows, maybe he could fuck you so good you'd have twins.

"aww...i know, i know," suguru coos, his hand pressing into your tummy. that condescending smile on his face just makes you melt under him. he's slow and methodical with how he fucks you, like he wants you to remember every vein of his cock, how it curves up just perfectly that it nudges that spot where his hand is pressing down and makes you keen. his smile morphs into a knowing smirk, his free hand rubbing your thigh. "you're such a pretty mommy, princess. do you know that?" suguru's so sweet, he's so soft, he's treating you like your the most fragile thing on the planet. he sooo slowly grinds himself into you, his hand giving another little push down on your tummy. he's so sweet to you, such a loving husband... but you know. you can see it in his eyes, the hunger and deviance swirling around in those purple irises. he's getting you soft and pliant, melting into the bed as he praises you where he knows your weak. "taking such good care of my baby, aren't you? ," he praises. his hand is so warm as he starts to rub up and down your stomach. "such a shame the geto genes are so strong in the men. however." your breath hitches when he pulls all the way out before shoving his cock all the way in down to the base. you can't help the soft moan of his name, watching him lean down closer so that he's right over you. "the girls in my family always look like their mommy. what do you think, pretty girl? d'you wanna try? want to see if i can give you a girl?" as soon as you nod, suguru fully leans over you, using his arms to hold himself over you and he really starts to fuck you. he's merciless, managing to keep that stupid fucking smile on his face as his balls slap against your ass. "she'll be so pretty, just like her mommy, so so so fucking pretty," he coos as if he isn't making tears drip down your face. he loves seeing his baby like this, so sweet and pretty for him. "okay, angel. 'm gonna give you another one, gonna flood this cunt alllll dayyy longgg."

✧ f. toji : toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you. yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things. but god, did he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid he gave you. so when megumi tells you both what he wants for his birthday...“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly. “but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.” little brat. toji doesn't hesitate to let megumi have a sleepover with yuuji the next day, dragging you into the bedroom as soon as he gets back home.

“you want to give the kid a sibling, hm," he hums against your mouth, teeth tugging on your lower lip. you feel how hot the tip of his cock is as he rubs circles into your clit with it, smearing his precum all over you. "wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?"  you just hummed, a little breathless. your hand came up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. “mm, honey, you've gotta stop asking questions you know the answer to,” you cooed, guiding him down closer so you could press a kiss against the scar on his lip. “don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.” after those words left your pretty little mouth, toji let out a laugh of disbelief, his mind instantly realizing that you, being a little minx, were 100% going to give him the worst breeding kink ever. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum, and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick.  toji easily flips you over onto all fours and lines himself up with your slit. when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet. god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it messed with his head. you were almost too good to be true. each thrust he gave had you seeing stars, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you. it was almost too much, but you didn’t want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth. “shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ. c'mon, throw that ass back on me, mama, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushed him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full. he coos when he sees you beginning to jolt up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. that's he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes. "tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

✧ r. sukuna : it honestly is his fault this happened, he's being snappy with one of the parents at the birthday party of your son's friend. sukuna knew better, he should've just ignored the bitch, but the comments she's making gets under his skin. "she hasn't given you kids of your own yet? that's too bad, i would've let you do that as soon as you proposed," she tries to flirt, batting her lashes at him. it just makes him sick. did this fucker not see the way sukuna looks at you? "oh, you probably don't know if she's the one you want to mother your kids, right," the woman next to him says, putting her fucking hand on his arm and he shoots her the meanest glare. "not everyone is mother material, but i-" "hey, we're leaving," he interrupts when you walk up to him, slapping the woman's hand off him as he gently wraps his arm around your waist. "i texted yuuji, that's why he's watching our kid for the rest of the day. c'mon."

sukuna is devouring you, his mouth unforgiving as he runs his tongue up and down your pussy. he's pissed, the way his tongue laps angrily at your folds as if your pussy is the reason he's upset. "fuckin' bitch," he snarls, spitting onto your clit before sucking on it. "thinks she can talk to my wife like that." you shakily gasp when he finally, finally looks at you, the sharp anger in his eyes making you shiver. you can tell he's not upset at you, but seeing him so riled up and knowing that he's using you to get it out of his system does something to you. "you know your mine right? that you're stuck with me 'til the day we die," he asks you, his thumb replacing his mouth as he rubs firm circles into your clit. "i'm your husband. you're my wife. you are fucking mine." he's about to say something else, but he stops, letting out a heavy sigh, subtly shaking his head. you catch it though, you always do. "suku, what's wrong," you shakily ask. "y-you can...can tell me, baby, what's wrong? did something ha-" "let me get you pregnant," he says, his voice low but desperate. he's moved from between your legs to over you, and you can see he's so hard, the tip of his cock an angry reddish-purple. "don't you want to give our son a sibling?" your eyes widen, not expecting him to ask that. having a kid with him...honestly didn't sound that bad. and the way he called your son 'our'...it makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but give him a sweet smile and nod. "okay, 'kuna, we can start trying if you are sure. i'm still on birth control, but—sukunaaa!" he doesn't give it another thought, sliding all the way into you until his hips are flush against yours. he feels the way your arms wrap around him and scratch at his back, and as good as it feels, sukuna needs you to give him complete control. pulling your arms off him, he laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the mattress before rutting into you, the slap of hips against yours almost angry. "don' care about the birth control," you hear him growl, his eyes burning into yours. "'m gonna fuck you so fuckin' full of my cum that it bypasses it. it's got no fuckin' chance with how many times i'm gonna breed this cunt." the way he's talking to you, it makes your head spin and you know he feels how you clench down on him with the way he groans. "gonna fuckin' show everyone how good of a mom you are, gonna get you all swollen 'n' round with my kids," sukuna groans, feeling his tip kiss your cervix with each snap of his hips. you can't help but look at him with those big eyes, disbelief and infatuation swirling in them. he likes this look on you, you just look so fucking in love with him, and it's all for him, just for him, no one else, just fucking him. "yeah? y'like that? that i'm gonna have a lil' family with my wife? give you as many kids as you want, 'n' all y'gotta do is take my fat cock as i breed you 'til it takes."

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

[dreamauri]

sub needy op81?

♪ — 𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦𝗡'𝗧 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 sub!oscar piastri  x  girlfriend!reader ( smut ) fic summary . . . Oscar's too needy—whining, squirming, begging for more when he's already inside you, and it's driving you insane. You shut him up the best way you know (584 words)

( my master list | more of oscar piastri ) ( requests )

CONTENT WARNING — ( +18 MDNI, smut, dom/sub dynamics, desperate sub!oscar, riding, breath control, slight choking, overstimulation, praise & degradation, light manhandling )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Oscar is already a mess beneath you—wrists pinned to the mattress, hips twitching up in a desperate attempt for more friction, more you. His breath stutters every time you move, a broken, pleading sound spilling from his lips like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

"You—" His voice cracks, head tilting back, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers flex uselessly where they’re trapped beneath your grip, body trembling, fevered with need. "Please, just—just let me touch you."

You press his wrists down harder, leaning over him, keeping him locked in place. "No."

His breath shudders out in frustration, a sharp whimper catching in his throat. He tries again, a weak, useless struggle against your hold, but you can feel it—he’s not really fighting. He’s testing, pushing, trying to see if you’ll break before he does.

Spoiler: you won’t.

His fingers twitch, straining, reaching like they could grasp you even with his hands pinned above his head. Like he could anchor himself in you, find some kind of relief from the overwhelming desperation clawing at his body. You could let him. You could let him wrap his arms around you, dig his fingers into your skin, but you don’t.

Because he’s already inside you, and yet it’s still not enough for him.

"Oscar," you murmur, and his eyes flutter open—hazy, unfocused, lips parted as he sucks in a shaky breath. He looks wrecked. Desperate. Like he’s on the verge of falling apart completely.

"Please," he whines, his voice so small, so pathetic. His brows knit together, mouth forming the shape of another plea before he even speaks. "I need you—closer—"

Your patience snaps.

Your free hand moves before you even think about it, wrapping around the column of his throat in a firm, deliberate squeeze. Not enough to hurt—just enough to make him still, to make him listen.

A sharp inhale catches in his chest. His lashes flutter. His whole body locks up beneath you like he can feel the shift in the air, like something in him is finally, finally understanding that this isn’t his to take—it’s yours to give.

"Oscar," you say again, softer this time, almost sweet. His lips part instantly, a high, needy whimper slipping out before he can stop it.

You lean in, pressing your forehead to his, tightening your grip just a fraction more, and he melts. His breath stutters, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven gasps, his whole body thrumming under your touch.

"You’re literally inside me," you whisper, slow and deliberate, savoring the way he shudders, the way his lashes flutter like he’s already teetering on the edge. "It doesn’t get closer than this."

A broken, choked noise escapes him—somewhere between a whine and a whimper—his fingers twitching in frustration against the sheets. His hips jerk instinctively, a desperate attempt to do something, to get more of you, but you keep him pinned, unyielding.

He’s unraveling. You can feel it.

"Be good," you tell him, your voice a slow, deliberate drag, and you roll your hips in torturous circles, taking your time, making him feel every second of it.

His head falls back, mouth open, a strangled moan slipping from his lips. His whole body is trembling, his hands shaking where they’re still trapped under your grip, the effort of not touching you tearing him apart at the seams.

And then—finally—he stops fighting it.

Stops begging, stops whining, stops pulling.

Just gives in. Surrenders.

And that’s when you finally let him have what he wants.

[masochistkatsuki]

New year, New me !!

New years sex, lowk hate fucking ? they love each other don't worry ? toxic relationship probably but the blogs name is literally masochistkatsuki, small plot mainly smut, short fic, not proof read

You and Katsuki were both known for being hot headed and stubborn, for lack of a better word, cunts. Neither of you actually asked the other to date, but by the end of the year, everyone considered Class 1-As explosive enemies a couple. Besides, for people who apparently hated each other, you always found a way to constantly be together or talking, even if it was arguing.

On new years eve, the class decided to do their resolutions together. With the heater blasting, the third years of UA Academy sat around and talked respectively amongst themselves. However, from where you and Katsuki were yelling at eachother, you heard your name being mentioned.

"Yea .. both of their resolutions should be to act less angry."

"You know.." Izuku's freckles slightly moved from how his face muscles contorted. He was clearly trying to find the right way to word this.

He knew no matter what, someone was going to blow up at him, but he could hopefully make it so it didn't instantly kill him ! "You dont have to start acting all super nice.. but.. acting a little less mean couldn't hurt.."

Unfortunately for him, damage control wasn't an option, and he was sent back to his dorm shaking. You'd finally gotten into Katsuki's room, stretching out on his bed as if it were your own. "Tch."

Your eyes narrowed over at the blonde boy. His dark eyes matched your own intensity. Something about him was pissing you off. Maybe it was the scoff, or how his biceps seemed to struggle against the tight fabric of his shirt.

It was clearly not an unrequited feeling, his cheeks turning an embarrassing red. "Hah, why the fuck do you look like that, Katsuki ?"

His eyes squinted slightly, as if he was getting a better look at you. "Cut that shit out." His deeper voice echoed out, a tone of command lacing it.

With anyone else, they would have submitted, letting everything that was Dynamight take them where they laid. But you.. You made him so fucking mad. No matter what, you bit back, taunted him, teased, never let him.

"You know, I think maybe you should be less of a dick." You spat, looking up at him, fluttering your eyelashes in the way you knew drove him insane. Youd always been infatuated with how easily he ticked, and soon became obsessed with the feeling of pushing his buttons or getting under his skin.

He huffed, his chest puffing out infuriatingly boyishly. He was so dramatic. But thats what drove your pleasure, seeing him so worked up. "And what about you ? Huh ? Your a fuckin bitch."

You smiled, a look that Katsuki could only describe as 'Evil' in your eyes. "Fine. Ill work on it. " You absolutely werent. Someone who was trying to be nice, wouldnt torture him with the words "Why dont we let this anger out one last time ?"

★☆★☆

"I fucking hate you." He was panting almost pathetically, hot words rolling off his tongue and onto your neck. Matching bruises and marks of teeth spread across both of your necks. A competition of who could give the other the worst time covering it up.

"Yea, you're fuckin me like a softy." You grabbed at his hair, pulling his head up to give him a sloppy kiss. With teeth clashing, you fucked your hips into his faster. His hands tightened their grip on you, threatening to leave bruises.

"Don't fuckin move.. Hah.." He bit harshly into your neck, to the point you worried blood may spill. "I.." Despite how mean he was being on your neck, words failed to come out.

"This is how you should be fucking me, not whatever weak shit you were doing." You pulled his hair in response to his aggressiveness, reminding him you weren't letting up.

"You really are a bitch.." He reset his hands, getting a better grip at your hips before he slammed you down to his balls.

"Fuck.." You stuttered, pleasantly surprised by the feeling. He continued fucking you into him, his pace only getting faster, the sounds of skin slapping and an infamous wet movement.

"Dont fuckin know how ima put up with your ass for another year.. Probably just gonna get worse as they go by.." Despite the rude sentiment, the detail on spending more years together didnt go unoticed by you or your body.

"Don't get cocky, you know you'd be begging for me back if you decided you didn't want to handle this." You smirked, a knowing one hed seen all too many times.

"Wait.." His eyes widened, and he attempted to stop your movements, but in the heavy heat overwhelming and pleasuring his body, he was too slow to stop you.

You rolled your hips flush against his, circling them slowly in an O motion. "I hate you, Katsuki." You smiled softly, basking in how he bit his lip and growled at you to wait.

"Fuckin.. whore.. you know what that does to me" He cried out, usual bite becoming softer. His hips desperately fucked into yours, his cum spilling out in fast spurts.

With each thrust in and out, his cock came out covered in more release and slick each time. Your bruised hips and neck were the cherry on top, calling his attention, begging to be eaten. "Yea.. thats why I love doing it."

He sighed, and brought his hand up to cover his mouth. Only you would know, there was a stupid ass smile hiding under it. He thinks, maybe, if he could see this sight throughout the year, he'd be just a bit less harsh.

Team Player Part four is being written now !! Sorry for the Hiatus, work has been killing me. Ill be back regularly and responding to everyone soon, I just need some me time. Thank you everyone for the kind messages, I get nervous actually responding sometimes, but I am reading them and appreciating them greatly. 💗 Happy new years, everyone !

[chococolte]

I think a sagau! touch starved/needy childe, scara and zhongli feels very attractive, to have two powerful harbingers on their knees just for a shred of attention from their god makes me wanna pamper them

but also like zhongli?? That man is so touch-starved like poor dude has been worshipping for hundreds of years without a reward for his good work probably drives him insane. I cannot imagine how he hold it together and doesn’t ascend on the spot when he breathes the same air as his god because I genuinely think he’s THAT needy

also your writing really brought me a lot of comfort!! Thank you for running the blog and doing what you do💜💜

word count. 3.8k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. im so happy you like my writing!! im sorry i took forever to write this, but i still hope you like it !!!!

childe

In the unfathomable dark of the abyss, you were the only thing Childe had to keep himself sane.

Without you, he would've lost himself; without you, he is nothing. He only survived because of your guidance. In his eyes, his ever consuming need of you is only right— he has no need of anything else, and sees no purpose to think otherwise. You've only ever proven how worthy you are of worship.

When light seeps through tree boughs, he sees you. He sees you in the way the leaves leave a shadow. He feels you in the cast of the wind's breath. Every breath he takes is inlaid with your name. The mere thought of the opposite makes him sick.

He's pathetic, but his pitiful appearance is only for your eyes.

Just breathing in your presence is enough for him to feel weak and fluttery, but your eyes on him leave him delirious; the sort of dizzy where he can’t bring himself to move at all. All you have to do is glance at him for his knees to tremble like they're about to buckle underneath his weight.

Somehow, he keeps himself standing each time. He should be ashamed, he knows, embarrassed— but drool pools quickly in his mouth as your eyes linger, and any sort of dignity is discarded in the light of your gaze.

As a Harbinger, he should have more pride than he does, but Childe's only arrogance is his belief that he's special to you. That belief was the only thing he had to ground himself in the abyss, and he clings to it as if to let go would mean death. In his mind, it would be no different.

You were the only thing he had, even if he only knew you in the form of whispers and imperceptible kisses of wind. He didn’t need to touch you, no matter how tortuous of an existence it may be, as long as he could feel you.

That was enough. He thought it would be enough.

Seeing you is an entirely different matter however, and quickly, he finds himself wondering what your skin would feel like under his calloused fingertips.

He wants you to touch him. It's a selfish want, but one he carries with him all the same.

He wants you to play with his hair and hold him close as if he's something precious. He wants you to run your fingers along his spine and see him as he reveals every dark, nasty part of himself. He wants you to look and still find something to love.

Childe doesn't speak a word of his desires. He sits with them in the dark and tries to will them away. He tries to withstand their passage, but only ends up choking on each thought.

He tries to hold himself at night, imagining his arms are yours, but it only makes the ache worse.

He imagines loving you, and you loving him.

When you summon him to your chambers, Childe has to hold every nerve in his body to keep himself from running to you. It’s with a clearly restrained gait that he reaches you, just barely, his knees still wobbly and the floor a shifting kaleidoscope of colors.

It doesn’t bother him. Childe feels weightless, alight with fervor, and it’s a struggle to stop himself from rushing forward just to breathe a little closer to you. He drops to his knees, bowing his head until his forehead sits against your marble flooring.

Touch me, he thinks.

He somehow manages to choke a greeting out of his throat, unable to stop the small shudder that runs through him when he feels your gaze settle on him.

It feels right, being beneath you. It feels right, the slight tension in his body as he waits for you to speak.

Childe doesn’t say anything else. You’re the only one he truly respects, the only one he’s ever felt so fervently for— in your name, he would burn the world and scorch the earth. For you, he’d stain his hands so terribly the waters turn red. He holds no desire to clean his hands with anything other than your forgiveness— and so he doesn't dare to speak out of turn, unable to bear the thought of you being upset with him.

"Come here," he hears you say, your voice gentle and cooing. Childe doesn't hesitate, taking your words as a command, crawling towards you like some sort of dog.

Despite how eager he is to be near you, his hands rest dumbly at his sides. His fingers twitch, aching to touch you for just a moment, but he sits still, trying to be good. Without your permission, all he can do is sit, no better than a well-trained hound.

Childe looks up at you with a dumb, dopey smile on his face. He knows he must look like a fool, dazed just by sitting so close to you— he can already feel heat spreading across his freckled cheeks, and he knows it must be obvious— but he can't find it in himself to care.

It’s you.

You're so close he could touch you if he dared. Your warmth is only a few inches away from him, and he inhales, trying to breathe you in. For a brief moment, he allows himself the blessing to imagine what it would be like to touch you.

He imagines running his fingers against your skin. He imagines brushing against your hand. He imagines his palms gliding across the length of your robe, pretending the silk is your flesh. The thoughts strike him dumb, and he lets out a small whine before he can reel himself back in.

It's a breathless noise, but one he's sure you heard.

Your hand reaches forward to cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your palm, leaning into your warmth as if trying to drink you in.

"So cute," you say, and every dark, needy part of him lights up all at once.

Childe makes another sound, a soft whimper drawn from the back of his throat. His russet lashes flutter shut, and any sense of propriety is promptly thrown to the side.

Touch me.

Another sharp shudder runs through him when you rub your thumb over his cheek. He almost falls limp against your hand, his breath locked in his throat, but he manages to steady himself in time.

His hands find your ornate robes within a second, and then he's clutching onto them until his knuckles are white. Childe can feel himself digging little crescents into his palms, but your touch means he's unable to focus on anything else, and the thought of lessening his grip makes him afraid you'll pull away.

Childe bites his lips, trying to stifle another noise. He never wants this to end. You could spit in his face, and he would thank you for it.

Just as he jerks forward, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, overwhelmed by how good your touch feels— you're letting go, and pure, unbridled fear rushes over him.

"N-No!" Childe begs hoarsely, unable to realize that he's acting out of what he's allowed. "No, no, d-don't stop, please! Please, please…" he pleads weakly, fingers digging into your robes again, tighter this time.

Unshed tears wet his eyes. If it means having your attention on him, he would do anything. Nothing is too far beneath him. He’s already done unspeakable things in your name, hoping to garner your favor; if it means having your touch for one second longer, then there’s no low he wouldn’t fall too— no covenant he wouldn’t break, divine or mortal. 

As long as it means being by your side at the end of it, any agony would be worth it. No shame is too much for him to bear. 

"Oh, puppy," you murmur softly. One of your hands cups his cheek, while the other gently tugs at his hair. "How could I say no to you?"

The fear coalescing around his heart dissipates, and the fingers that were clutching onto you lessen their grip slightly.

"Mhm," Childe hums at too high of a pitch, but he's much too drunk on you to think about anything else, much less whether he's ruining your perception of him. He hides his face in your hand.

Your puppy, he wants to add, but his mind is too frazzled to get the words out.

Your fingers in his hair tighten, and Childe can't help the little bit of drool that falls from his lips.

scaramouche

He shouldn't be ecstatic with just this much.

All you’d done was look at him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and it was enough for him to feel every nerve bursting like stars all over, pin pricks dancing under his skin. It was enough for every ugly, horrible little part of himself to reveal themselves like he'd done nothing to hide them.

The sudden surge of emotion, an incessant and desperate need to please you— to give you no reason to give him away— breaches the surface far too quickly. His every move is then dictated by how it might affect you, whether it'll give him your favor or ire; and an ever increasing chittering spawns in the back of his mind, crying for you to touch him.

All you'd done was look at him.

Scaramouche tries to ignore it at first. He, very pointedly, does his best not to think of how his skin burns when a thought of you touching him enters his mind unbidden, nor how it simultaneously destroys whatever preconceived notions he had of himself.

He knows titles are meaningless in front of you, but that doesn't quite quell the petulance he feels when he crumbles each time you look at him. You don't have to touch him for every wall to burst like they were nothing. You don't even have to be near him. Your eyes meet his for a moment, and it's like everything he is shatters.

It makes him feel disgustingly weak and as insignificant as the day he was born.

Scaramouche is one out of many; one interaction you may have out of hundreds. He knows how many clamber for your affection, and how many more would ruin themselves for it.

You hold his gaze for a meaningless amount of time, and he knows it means nothing to you. His body still reacts like it does. He knows once you've turned, you'll have already found something else to capture your attention. His pulse still churns as if you’d just held his face in your hands.

It's nothing to you. It should mean nothing to him.

He hates the fact it bothers him.

He shouldn't care. It's not the same as you abandoning him. That you look at him at all should mean something. But it doesn't change the way fear bundles inside of him when you look away, nor does it change the disgust that rises at the very fact he feels that way at all.

He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother him. But it does. It does.

It eats away at him like a festering wound. It hurts like nothing before it. He wonders if you’ll grace him with a look, and when you do, that’s the only thing that matters. When you turn away, he wonders how he ever got to this point. When you don’t, it’s like his breath’s been wrung from his lungs, and he wonders again, at what point did he let himself fall so far. 

It’s a point of irritability for him, and he ignores it like acknowledging it would be the death of his ego. Knowing that it would only serves to make him suffer more.

Whether you smiled or twitched your brow shouldn't feel the same as being reborn or having life torn from him. 

You haven't left him yet. He constantly feels like you're about too.

Scaramouche has to sit and watch when you interact with others. It feels like torture. You smile, and for some reason, it feels like fire washing over him. You laugh, and somehow, he hears it as vividly as he would if he was next to you; only it hurts because he's not the one you're sharing it with.

He could at least pretend he wasn't so pathetic before. He could hold himself up with some pride, even dignity— mask his emotions well enough they couldn't be used against him. Now, sitting in front of you like this, he can't even have that much.

It's piety, worship, love, or something in between or all of them at once. He's weak all over because of it, and it makes him furious at the same time it makes him euphoric.

He wishes he was stronger. Tempered by the abyss, and he still can't resist falling into you.

Your hand runs across the nape of his neck, and he shivers, skin burning where your fingers brush. A soft, shuddery breath escapes him, and his fingers curl where they're latched onto your robes.

If it was anyone else, maybe he would have mauled them for seeing him in such a state. People are perfidious; quick to betray, and even quicker to exploit whatever they've gleaned. Faster still to take away anything that makes him happy.

It's not just anyone, though. It's you. And despite how terribly he fears and how deeply he wishes to bury his emotions, his want of you runs deeper. If it means holding your attention, then you can have anything. If it means feeling your touch, then he'd let you use whatever you wanted against him.

If it meant having the assurance of your presence, then he'd kneel and discard his every title and name. He'd become nothing, if he knew he'd still have you.

“Good boy,” you whisper, and Scaramouche instinctively moves closer, rubbing his knees raw against marble, trying to breathe in your warmth.

He despises how fast he weakens at your beckoning; how he can't even will himself to resist, or fathom the thought of it— malleable to your every whim, and unable to be truly angered by it. He only shifts to be nearer to you, dreaming of your touch, hoping to share some of your eternity.

A whimper rises from his throat, trying to kill his desperation.

"Don't leave me," he says, the words wrenched from his throat. "Don't leave me."

Don’t betray me, he wants to say instead. Don’t abandon me.

It's a disgusting display of weakness. He wishes he could kill his voice so he wouldn't speak at all, but even without a heart, his emotions feel like they might choke him.

The things you do to him are terrible. Pleas for you to only look at him sit and die on his tongue. He reels himself back in before he can make a fool out of himself even further, but he knows you only have to look at him for a little bit longer for any sense of resistance to die alongside his pride. 

"I won't," you say softly, holding his cheek against your palm. "I'm here."

Scaramouche leans into your touch, hiding his face against your hand. He manages to keep himself from making an improper sound through sheer will, though he has to clench his jaw and close his eyes. 

Even just knowing he has all of your attention makes him feel dazed, and as you rub your thumb over his cheek, he can’t even muster any anger at being reduced to such a state. He hums, somehow leaning even further into your touch. 

“I’m here,” you say again, and Scaramouche whimpers into your palm.

zhongli

Zhongli dreams of you every night.

He knows he shouldn’t. It’s not proper of him, nor is it right for him to sully your image with his thoughts. Still, though, the thoughts come unbidden and leave him a wreck in their wake. 

What troubles him is what he knows to be the cause of them.

Zhongli has always been eternally grateful. He's sat with the love of you until it permeated every thought. He's lived beside the worship of you until it coated his every word and nerve. 

Being able to serve you past fantasies in his imagination brings him purpose, and that should be enough. And for a time, it was. 

He could see you and feel fulfilled. He could breathe your air and feel like the thousands of years spent waiting for you had been worth it. Even following you around like some sort of dog was more gratifying than splitting the earth apart. This, he thought, is enough.

This sense of greed, then, shouldn't exist.

Zhongli pretends it's not his own, but the truth is that every thought is painfully his. 

He imagines you running your fingers through his hair. He imagines touching your skin. He imagines you whispering praises against the pale column of his throat, and he imagines being yours in such a way that he knew he was special to you. He imagines you breathing his name and it feeling like rebirth. He imagines your touch. He imagines being able to worship you selfishly, entirely, in a way that no one but him could claim the honor of.

In a way, he thinks he deserves it. To be tortured with visions of things he knows he doesn't deserve and thoughts he knows you wouldn't approve of. 

Zhongli would think of you often before, when all he had of you were the prayers on his lips and promises of piety. It was difficult to imagine you as something physical, but still, his heart stirred. His most meaningful company was the thought of you beside him.

What he thinks of now is different.

He wouldn't have dared to imagine touching your skin. He wouldn't have let the thought escape the darkest of his subconscious. He wouldn't have dared to let himself the simple fantasy of you speaking his name like he's something precious to you. All he wanted, then, was to share the same plane of existence as you. A selfish want, but it was pure.

What pervades his mind now is some sort of sacrilege. He should know better, but he still sullies you every time he closes his eyes, unable to fight and equally unwilling too. 

His greatest arrogance. Even with thousands of mortal lifetimes lived, he still can't rid himself of it— even with his own self-hatred, his thoughts continue to defy him. 

Even when he knows he's failing you, he falls deeper. 

It's worse when you interact with others. Zhongli hugs your shadow and trails after you always, eager to please but always hiding behind a mask of propriety and decorum. He likes to pretend to have a semblance of control in your presence, though he knows that if you’d only ask, he would rid himself of it entirely and be thankful for it.

You're perfect, which is why you're kind even to those that don't deserve a modicum of your attention. You smile, and each time it's not directed at him, he tries to choke the indignance out of him. It’s selfish of him to expect that he be the only one to receive your affection, despite how his mind whispers it’s because he hasn’t done enough to prove himself to you. 

Why else, it supplies, would you waste your breath on those undeserving of it? 

He reminds himself of his place. It assuages him for only a moment.

Zhongli dreams of your breath. He dreams of you cracking him open and bearing witness to every depravity and every virtue and still whispering your love to him. He dreams of looking at you and knowing that he means something to you. He dreams and he wants so terribly, and he knows none of it is his to imagine.

He reminds himself of his place, repeating the words over and over in his mind. He whispers them to himself at night in hopes that maybe, it'll finally stick this time. 

Be pleased with this much.

He's meant to be. He tells himself that, maybe, if he perseveres well enough, he'll be rewarded. 

Maybe you'd let him touch you?

He wouldn't ask for much. Maybe you would be kind enough to let him hold your fingers in his. He wouldn't do so for long. Maybe, if he was good, you'd let him kiss your fingertips with the reverence you deserve. 

It’s an impossibility, he knows, but it's his sole comfort. If he withstands just for a while more, you'll be proud instead of disappointed that he's fallen so low. 

Then you ask for him to kneel, alone in your chambers, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Zhongli does as you say immediately. He falls to his knees so quickly that his mind doesn't have the chance to catch up. Vaguely, he understands that maybe he should be ashamed with how fast his body responds. He decides he doesn't care. All he knows is that you're looking at him, and that it feels sweet and good, and that he doesn't want you to stop. 

His breath is lodged in his throat. His heart sounds like a roar in his ears. Nothing exists but you and your words. All you have to do is whisper a word that could vaguely be understood as a command and he would be at your feet, ready to be used. 

He wants you to touch him. 

You smile, and his nerves feel alight with fervor. Zhongli’s hands stay clenched on his knees, trembling with the strength needed to resist touching you. 

You haven't given him permission, so he keeps himself still. 

You cradle his face in your hands. He can feel the warmth of your palms caressing his cheeks, and he wonders— how can there be anyone who doesn't worship you? 

“Good boy,” you say, and Zhongli inhales sharply. 

For you, he wants to say. Only for you.

He doesn't, afraid to speak; afraid that to murmur even the softest of praises would cause you to pull away. 

Does he tell you, he wonders, that he wants you to play with his hair? Does he tell you he wants you to love him completely, innocently, selfishly? Does he tell you he wants you to touch his skin, anywhere if it means having that small piece of contact? 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” you ask, and he can hear the small tint of mirth in your voice.

The question strikes him dumb. His body burns and his blood is singing. Zhongli doesn't care if you find him amusing. No, he delights in it. It doesn't matter as long as he means something at all to you.

His fingers twitch, and just barely does he manage to keep his hands to himself. 

“Everywhere,” he breathes.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie woke up with a pounding headache and an intense sense of dread. He groaned as he sat up, shutting his eyes to block out the searing light from the window.

He took a deep breath before opening them again, letting out a sigh of relief when he realized he was in his own room, safe in their apartment. But that wasn't stopping his pounding headache.

God, what the fuck happened last night? He remembered going to Gareth’s party, getting cross-faded. Then, just pure white-boy wasted as the night went on and someone brought out tequila shots. He remembered whining about missing Steve to some guy-

Oh god. The guy. It came screaming back to him, blurry and unfocused but there.

I can be your boyfriend for the night.

How the fuck had the line worked on him? Eddie didn't know, but he knew that it had. He remembered kissing him, whimpering into his mouth while moaning Steve’s name. How good it felt.

What the fuck had he done?

Pure panic was starting to set in. He cheated on Steve. He actually cheated on Steve. And for what? Because he hadn't seen him for a few weeks? It only took one vacation with Robin for him to destroy the trust they built? Was he that pathetic? That selfish? That idiotic?

He didn't even remember how far they'd gone. He didn't even know how he got home. Or if the guy came with him. The idea of him fucking someone else in their bed made him feel physically ill. Ill enough to have Eddie jumping out of bed, frantic as he looked around for any clues. But there was nothing. Just the evidence of the life he'd built with his boyfriend. The one that he had single handedly ruined.

Maybe he could just not tell him. Keep it secret for the rest of his fucking life. Track down anyone who did know and blackmail them to be quiet. That seemed more sane then coming clean. Sane enough to have Eddie stumbling out of his room in a hurry.

But before he could call Gareth to insanely demand the names of anyone who could have seen him, he smelled it. The scent of coffee brewing, plus the sound of a happy hum.

Steve was home. A whole day early.

Holy shit, Eddie was going to be sick. He was actually going to puke. The feeling bad enough to make his legs weak, so bad he crashed right into the wall.

Loud enough to have Steve calling after him, "Babe, is that you?"

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Not when Steve was rounding the corner, smiling at him like that. All soft and loving, "There you are. Rough night?"

Was that the last time he would look at him like that?

"Eddie?" Steve asked, frowning at his lack of answer, "Are you okay?"

Eddie wanted to die. He actually wanted to die. Why had he done this? But he couldn't lie to him. Not with the sweet, trusting way Steve was looking at him. He just couldn't.

"I need to tell you something," Eddie finally managed to choke out, his heart beating so fast he was scared Steve could hear it. Maybe he'd have a heart attack it he was lucky. Avoid this whole shit show through almost dying.

But he wasn't that lucky.

Steve cocked his head at him, "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Eddie said, letting his first thought come out, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"I kissed someone," Eddie blurted out, his hands shaking as he started to word vomit, "Last night. A-At the party I told you about."

Steve just stared at him.

"I-I was drunk!" Eddie went on, his voice coming out wet, "It didnt mean anything, I don't even know why I did it."

Steve still wasn't saying anything. He was just looking at him, his expression unreadable. It just made Eddie feel more desperate.

"Please say something," Eddie begged, "I know this is bad. I do. But I dont even know who he is. I-I won't do it again!"

Steve still had his head cocked as he looked at him, something in his eyes that Eddie didn't understand, "Is that all?"

Fuck no that wasn't all. Not when Steve was looking at him like that. Eddie didn't even think about it as he sunk to his knees, fully fucking ready to beg at Steve’s feet.

"I love you," Eddie tried, the tears he was holding back finally starting to fall, "I fucked up. I know I fucked up but please don't leave me. Please. I can make up for this. I can. Please."

It was hard to see him through the tears in his eyes, hard to comprehend anything through how fucking bad Eddie felt, the sheer amount of self-loathing nearly drowning him completely. His vision was cloudy enough to almost make it look like Steve was... smiling at him?

Steve reached down, grabbing Eddie underneath the armpits to help lift him back onto his feet. Strong in a way that still made Eddie's heart skip a beat whenever he saw it in action. He led a still sniffling Eddie to the couch, grabbing for his hand when they sat down.

"Baby, how do you think you got home last night?" Steve asked.

Eddie frowned, "I-I don't know. I don't remember."

"Do you remember what the guy looked like?"

Eddie swallowed, so nervous he was still kind of afraid he was going to puke. And he highly doubted that puking on Steve would help his case for him to stay, "I don't remember fully."

"What do you remember?"

Eddie sighed, looking down into his lap, "I remember missing you. And then a point where I got drunk enough to say it to anyone who would listen. Then this guy showed up and he said-"

"I can be your boyfriend for the night?"

Eddie snapped his head up, staring at Steve with his mouth open. How the fuck did he know that?

"And then did he do this?" Steve asked as he brought his hand up, cupping Eddie's cheek. Looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world before placing his thumb on Eddie's bottom lip, teasing it with a smile, "Before saying you were beautiful?"

"I-yes? But how-"

"Honey," Steve sighed, a touch exasperated but mostly fond, "I got back last night. Then went to go find you when I remembered about the party."

Oh god, did that mean Steve saw the whole thing? Was this the calm before he kicked Eddie out? Was he about to be dumped-

"I can see your brain working babe, but it's working in the wrong direction."

"Huh?" Eddie asked, completely lost on why Steve was smiling at him instead of cursing his name.

"Eddie, it was me," Steve said calmly, though his face said he was holding back a laugh, "You made out with me. Before I took us home and you failed at trying to give me road head on the way home. Twice."

"I-what?" Eddie asked, shellshocked.

"You cheated on me with me, babe," Steve laughed, his calm face finally breaking, "Then when we got home, you cried about missing me to me. You're adorable when you're wasted. Stupid, but adorable."

"Oh my fucking God," Eddie breathed out, the reality of the situation hitting him. He groaned, hiding his face in his hands while Steve cackled next to him. He had never felt like a bigger fucking moron, Jesus Christ, "I am never drinking tequila again."

"Good idea," Steve chuckled as he pried Eddie's hands away from his face. He brought one to his mouth, kissing his fingers as he grinned, "But I love the honesty, sweetheart. 10/10. And the begging? Kind of hot."

"I was terrified!" Eddie moaned, staring up at the ceiling as a blush climbed up his neck, "You scared the shit out of me."

"You scared yourself!" Steve laughed, grabbing for Eddie's chin to force his head back down to look at him. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "My favorite little drama queen."

"You're a bastard," Eddie grumbled, like he wasn't smiling when Steve leaned in to kiss him on the lips, "Evil."

"But wasn't I a good boyfriend for the night?" Steve asked, laughing even harder when Eddie pinched his side. Eddie leaned in to kiss him again, effectively shutting him up as the last of his anxiety drained away.

But one thing was for sure. Tequila would be his worst enemy until the day he died.

Purely inspired by this post by @hawkinsbnbg

[makeyoumine69]

Oh those other anons are soooo right.

Bruce would be going insane when he finally gets his girl bred. Seeing her trying on gala dresses that are much too small now, her hips getting fuller, tits getting bigger, and swelling with his kid? Way to end up in the gossip mags.

I dont think he'd be able to stop himself at one. You know what the elites are like, kings never just had one heir.

I think he'd want to suck on her tits so bad.

Tbh, i can see Patrick doing that too.

Carrying His Child | Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader, Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader HEADCANON

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, implied smut, lactation kink, breeding kink, body worship, pet names, some dirty talk, Pregnant!Reader, breeding kink, pregnancy-related details, established relationships, Husband!Patrick Bateman, Husband!Bruce Wayne, pregnancy sex.

𝐀/𝐍: I couldn't agree more with what anon said and I just wanted to write down some of my thoughts about these two men. Hope you enjoy it!

Patrick Bateman

The recent news of your pregnancy would be both shocking and exciting for Patrick, but he wouldn't even know how to react at first. Should he be openly happy, as all doting partners are, or should he keep it all to himself so as not to look weak and pathetic? This man may not be the best at showing emotion and affection as most people perceive it, but what Patrick is good at is being in control and inflicting it on every aspect of his life, including you and his unborn child. So it's obvious that once your pregnancy is confirmed, Patrick would turn into the most overprotective man, but the dark side of it would be that he would have a grip on everything you do, your lifestyle, what you eat and drink, and who you interact with. And of course it would annoy you sometimes, but this man will try to manipulate you into thinking that he knows what's best for you. When the two of you are out in public, he would hold you close, but not really be clingy, more like allowing you to hold onto his arm, and Patrick would definitely hate any questions related to your pregnancy, like who the two of you are expecting and what month you're at.

Patrick prefers to think of having children as building a lineage - a legacy of his own blood and flesh. And although the burden of parenthood weighs heavily on his shoulders and makes him somewhat unhappy, he can sometimes find the concept of building a dynasty with you quite appealing. But the worst thing is that he doesn't really care about your thoughts or feelings about it, because he sees you as his property—he owns you from head to toe, every little bit of your body is his to possess and ruin. So once the idea of impregnating you again was fully integrated into his twisted mind, there would be no barriers for him to make his fantasies come true. Patrick would patiently wait for you to give birth to his firstborn, maybe even give you time to recover before he'd impregnate you again, using the beautiful and flowery phrases about the love between a man and a woman and how he wants you to give him as many children as he wants because children are flowers of life. There is no obstacle for him to get what he wants. No doubt that Patrick would do everything to make you the best mother because appearances are always important and he wants nothing more than a perfect wife and perfect children—the American dream family. Nothing more, nothing less.

As mentioned, Patrick is not a fan of physical affection, but sometimes, if he's really in the mood or if he thinks it would be easier for him to just give you a hug instead of listening to you vent, he'll do it. Of course, this guy knows how fucked up women can feel during pregnancy, but he can easily be overwhelmed by your depressed mood or your complaints about being tired all the time. On the days when he can't take it anymore, he'd try to escape and lose himself in some nightclub with some other yuppie in the company of pretty blonde hardbodies, but he'd never really try to fuck anyone else because his body would oddly crave only you. It would be annoying for him, especially when he realizes that the changes in your pregnant body only make him more horny. MUCH MORE HORNY. It literally drives him crazy. Whenever he sees you wearing something skimpy, Patrick's dick gets unbearably hard and he has to drag you back into the bedroom or press you against any surface he can BUT he has to remember that the current circumstances are different. You're carrying his child and he can't be as selfish as he always chooses to be—Patrick hates to admit that the unborn child was already stirring something weird in him. But he didn't know how to deal with that strange feeling in his chest when he touches your baby bump with his hands or his lips. It's definitely something different. So different that he forgets about everything else but you—all the blank thoughts about how much money he spent on his new suit the other day, or what tie Tim Price wore yesterday, or which model Craig McDermott boffed at the last fashion show. Fuck all that. If he ever needs to be really gentle, it should be with his pregnant wife. No questions asked. As awkward as he imagined pregnancy sex to be, in reality Patrick enjoyed it even more than before, it was much more sensual and to have you so sensitive in his strong arms, reacting to his every little move, felt like heaven. "Fuck... You're taking me so well, doll," Patrick would murmur in your ear in a passionate tone, spooning you while he covered your neck with feverish kisses, his hands secured around your round belly while he continued to push carefully inside you. "So soft, so round, so warm." Being both insatiable and needy, Patrick would be literally erratic in his craving for your breast milk, acting like a little baby. But, if you ever implied that he was behaving like a baby boy, he would be so fucking offended and grumpy, but in the end, he would suckle at your breasts with full determination, which would make your nipples really sore, especially the moments when he would decide to use his sharp white fangs. Patrick literally can't stop craving the taste of your breast milk—he even considered taking some of your expressed milk to add to the coffee at the office. But this psycho would never tell you about his depraved plans.

Bruce Wayne

When it comes to your pregnancy, Bruce is extremely protective, but not in a babysitting kind of way, because he doesn't want you to feel pressured and obligated to follow a strict list of instructions, as he respects your personal boundaries, but still, sometimes Bruce can be a little too stressed about the safety of you and the baby you're carrying. Giving him a few pecks, stroking his cheek in a reassuring way, and telling him that he doesn't have to stay alert may help. But only until the next time Bruce gets worried about something else. He would also never stop bragging about how proud he is of you and how beautiful you are whenever you show up together at any gala event, and he would even make you wear the tightest dresses to show off your baby bump so that everyone would know who you belonged to. The images of you playing with your child in the backyard of the Wayne Manor would be his most intimate fantasy that he wouldn't share with anyone, claiming it was too personal. After all, Bruce has always been too sensitive about anything family related, but now he was in the process of creating HIS OWN family and he finds himself even more anxious, but he would do his best not to let anything like what happened to his parents happen again. Never again.

The idea of putting another baby inside you after you give birth would live inside his head for a long time like a brain worm, but it would be a very difficult time for him finding the right moment to make a suggestion about it. The man would be nervous because he knows that pregnancy is a very complicated time for any woman, with all those heavy syndromes, including morning sickness and sudden mood changes due to hormones. Bruce sees all this and it makes him insecure if you really want to go through all this again. And he'll never make decisions like this for both of you without your approval. For now, the man will focus on your current pregnancy, take care of you in every way possible, be your shield and shoulder to lean on when you feel down or unsure about being a good parent. Every time you doubt that you'll be a good mother, Bruce will bury his nose in the crook of your neck, deliberately tickling your skin to hear you laugh, and then whisper sweet little things about how happy he is that you're carrying his child and how absolutely sure he is that you'll be the great mother. Zero doubt.

Physical affection means a lot to this man, starting with holding your hand every time you walk together, hugging your waist whenever he can, planting feathery kisses on your temple or forehead. And all of this Bruce does to make sure you know how much he loves you, how much he cherishes every second of his life spent with you. When your body begins to change due to pregnancy, Bruce would be even more focused during sex, making sure you feel good and comfortable, choosing the best position to fuck you deeply but without harming the baby, literally worshipping your body as his personal shrine, telling you how much he loves every little detail of your changing figure: "Uh, darling, you're so beautiful. Uh...I can't get enough of you." In the mornings, you'd usually find him resting between your legs, eating you out with pure devotion, caressing your curvaceous hips and massaging your ample breasts that would soon be so full of milk. One day, when he was playing with your nipples and some of your milk would spill out, he would catch it with his finger and put it in his mouth—the moment Bruce would taste your milk for the first time would be his personal downfall as he would be very paranoid that you would think he's weird. He would try to fight the very idea of asking you to suckle your breasts, and he would be absolutely embarrassed until one day you would suggest it to him, because you'd remember his moan of satisfaction when he tasted your breast milk. Sometimes Bruce would latch his mouth around your nipple as you rode him, his muffled soft moans sounding so perfect and hot, literally becoming your personal aphrodisiac, making you orgasm quite quickly and very vividly. And your round hips, Jesus Christ, your hips would always be touched and teased, fondled and kneaded—simply because your husband can't stop himself, he's literally obsessed. The days when you're struggling with your sore breasts, Bruce would immediately offer you his help, massaging your soft mounds and asking you how you feel and if he can squeeze them a little tighter, because he wants to feel your tender flesh under his fingers—he literally craved it so much. Scattering pillows on the bed for you to rest on would be Bruce's special ritual whenever you decided to get naughty or just relax together, naked, skin to skin, lips on lips. Once your baby bump got too big, Bruce would help you take a shower, including washing your hair and every little patch of your gorgeous body, so after that he can comb your hair and carry you into the bedroom to massage your feet and GOD, his strong hands really know how to work magic and sometimes it feels even better than sex.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion doesn't ask for affection because he can't..... yet.

Ah, more tea steeping in this seeming endless sea of thoughts. This brew is a bit strong on the heart. Read with caution.

Warning for game spoilers and talk of abuse.

This perspective is from game content only. How anybody cannons their relationships or behaviors is perfectly right. No blame, no shame, it's your game.

I was always miffed at the lack of initiated affection from Astarion as a partner. YOU ask him for a kiss. YOU ask him for a hug. YOU ask him to tell you thank you after being an amazing partner and killing a massive beastie just for him! Brat...

But then I had a sudden realization. Given his past, affection is probably insanely hard to ask for. Like it can be for a lot of us.

Stay awhile and listen. (nerd)

Now when I speak of narcissistic abuse I am only speaking from what I know about it. I have no academic or phycology degree on the matter. Just good ol' tossed in the pond and forced to sink or swim experience.

Astarion spent 200 years under the crushing weight of narcissistic / psychopathic abuse. One of the things these types of abusers love to do is take what you love and make you hate it and then make you hate yourself for ever having liked it to begin with. All very nasty business that. But it's one of the main corner stones for the cage they build to control you.

They make you feel as if the request of a simple hug is the most pathetic thing you could ask for. Or the most selfish thing as it inconveniences them. They don't want it, why should they give it to you?

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

200 years with a master who used him like a tool. 200 years with siblings that fought amongst each other so much comfort was a liability. Nights coming home assaulted only to be mocked for your tears. Insulted for your need of comfort.

"Pathetic! Weak! Disgusting! "

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

Affection was nowhere to be found there, I assure you.

And for a Narc. anything given is expected to be "earned" in any way they see fit. And if you were "rewarded" with anything, it comes at high price.

And how dare you not find it fair. You ingrate!

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue..

Hugs are pathetic. Kisses are an intrusion. Or they become gateways to other unwanted behaviors. To be held...what are you? A baby? The only way you are going to get held, is down.

Shame, belittle, degrade, devalue.. The pattern continues.

But you ask HIM for a kiss. And he says..

"There is nothing I'd like more."

And he means it.

I'd bet a mountain of gold he wants to just ask you himself. But years of conditioning to expect pain when seeking pleasure probably keeps him in a choke hold. Like rats that are shocked every time they try to eat food out of a dish. They learn it is safer to starve.

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or a hug, but they might think i'm weak. But if they ask me first then it's them who wants it and they can't degrade me for it because they asked, not me. It's safe then."

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or hug, but they might reject me for being too needy and shame and berate me for being so selfish or demanding of their time and person. But if they ask they have time and want me to kiss/hug them."

"I want to ask Tav for a kiss or a hug, but my primal brain keeps telling me they might demand more than I want to give in return for it. But if they ask, I have the power of negotiating the outcome."

This leads me to believe he would view sex and affection very differently as well.

Where most find affection safe and nurturing, it's anxiety educing and unsafe. It means there are feelings and if there are feelings there is the risk and fear of rejection or judgment. It's much scarier.

Where most find sex to be connecting and intimate, it's been used so much it's lost any meaning. Something you can do a thousand times over and walk away the second it's done and feel nothing afterward.

This may even be a part of the reason why he wants to stop having sex.

He wants to connect with you in ways denied to him. He wants the experience of being courted, treasured, nurtured. It means so much more to him than sex. It is so much more connecting.

Feeling this way is wretched and lonely. The most basic instinct is to want to seek comfort in the arms of those who love us. But it's broken. The risk is too great.

And it's hard. Because you could be the sweetest most honorable Tav in the whole of Fearun. But after being fed poised apples one too many times, all apples appear poisonous regardless of if is true or not.

I have no doubt that this prickly elf soaks up every second of non sexual affection you give him. And truly is grateful for your patience while he slowly and carefully disarms the safety measures he put in place to survive. The fact that he even allowed you to touch him like that at all was a monumental act of trust. And why not? You are incredible after all.

I'm going to go ask my elf for a kiss now. And then cry in my cup.

[anglbnny]

First time fight ♡ Rin itoshi

cw: smut mdni, fingering, argument leading to smut

“Gosh! I hate that habit of yours, rin!” you yelled, shoving your finger in his chest, your long nails clearly hurting him the way he hissed and gripped your wrist. 

You were breathing heavily, standing chest-to-chest with Rin, the air between you charged like a lightning storm.

"You’re so fucking stubborn," you spat, hands clenched into fists at your sides. Rin's jaw tightened, eyes sharp enough to cut you open. "You're the one who never listens." The argument had spiraled, voices rising until it wasn’t even about the original fight anymore. It was about everything. Every buried feeling, every snarky comment, every look, every unspoken word.

You both were too close, the air hung heavy. It was suffocating. You opened your mouth to speak up again but his callous hands cupped your jaw, slamming his lips down onto yours. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t to calm you down. It was mean, angry, rough. Everything that rin was. All teeth and tongue. He corned your back into a wall. Taking both your hands in his and pinning them above you. 

You groaned into the kiss, pushing into him. "Say you're sorry," he growled against your lips, voice rough and low.

"N-no," you panted, head spinning. "You say it."

He chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "You’re impossible," Rin muttered, before diving back in, stealing another kiss so deep you whimpered. His hand reached down, massaging your waist. He bit your bottom lip, tugging gently, making your knees go weak. His thigh slotted between yours, grinding up, making you gasp into his mouth.

"You drive me insane," he hissed against your throat, teeth grazing your skin. "Can't stand you."

"Fuck," he growled, dragging his mouth back up to kiss you again—this time slower, filthier, tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to taste every single sound you made.

One of his hands dropped lower, gripping your thigh and dragging it higher up his hip, opening you up for him. The movement made your skirt ride up, and Rin’s hand brushed along your inner thigh, teasing—so close, so close—but not giving you what you wanted yet.

"You wanted to argue, right?" he muttered against your lips, smirking darkly. "Now look at you... so fucking needy."

The rough pads of his fingers rubbed circles on your inner thigh, teasing your core over the wet panties. 

“So wet.. You have quite the nerve arguing with me when you get so aroused when i get mad” he grinned, biting your neck. 

"Rin," you whimpered, voice breaking, "please..."

He clicked his tongue, pretending to think. "I don't know," he teased, fingers ghosting over your cunt, barely applying any pressure. "After the way you were yelling at me? You don't deserve it."

You practically sobbed when his fingers finally brushed over your clit, already throbbing

"Pathetic," he whispered, biting your ear gently.

He pulled your panties to the side and slid two fingers against your slick heat, drawing a ragged, high-pitched moan from you. His free hand clamped over your mouth instantly, muffling the sounds.

"Shhh," he grunted, fingers teasing your entrance. "Unless you want the whole building to hear how much you need me."

You whimpered against his palm, grinding down desperately as he teased your entrance, almost pushing in but not quite.

"I should leave you like this," he muttered darkly, kissing along your throat again. "So fucking desperate, so messy for me."

“Should i? Should i leave you all needy and desperate?” he asked, voice dripping with leverage. You shook your head no, only for him to laugh at your expression but he wasn’t amused. 

But you knew Rin.

Knew he could never deny you for long.

Not when you looked at him like he was the only thing keeping you alive.

Finally, finally—he pushed two fingers inside you, slow and deep. You cried out against his hand, body jolting, legs trembling around him.

"Yeah," Rin murmured, voice wrecked and low, watching you fall apart.

"That's it. Be good for me now."

TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella

A/n: I AM SO FUCKING ANNOYED MY ACC GOT SHADOWBANNED AND STUPID TUMBLR ISN'T RESPONDING TO MY HELP TICKET, AHHH, anyways. i'll be writing here and if i don't get my main back, i'll shoot myself

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[lanae111]

Some Mark grayson thoughts

I can’t stop thinking about it 😣 a needy, desperate, subby mark grayson who can’t get enough of you, doesn’t wanna keep his hands off of you. Like he’s so crazy about you and as much as he likes taking control every once in awhile, you dominating him is his weakness. He’s so pathetic and i just know he would beg you to ride him because he’s nasty and crazy about seeing you like that, in that way.

It’s got to be his favorite position- you can’t change my mind. He just goes insane anytime you’re in a position where you can just use him.

Maybe it’s because he sees himself as part of the strongest beings ever known, physically at least - and having someone like you make him feel like nothing, like someone who can feel and is weak with the right person, he melts.

Riding mark grayson

Riding mark grayson

Riding mark grayson

Riding mark grayson

I’ll never get tired of it🫠

[doki-doki-imagines]

Not sure if you take requests but could you write about Shang Tsung (and others) with breeding kink?🙏

feat. Shang Tsung, Bi-Han, Liu Kang, Syzoth (aka the guy I think would be into it)

tw: smut, afab!reader

author note: requests are open! It's been a while since I wrote smut, I hope you'll like these.

Shang Tsung: -He is staining your soul, putting his seed of evil into you. -The thought gives him goosebumps, his right hand keeping your leg up and open wide, while to other play with your nipple and at the same time pushes your back against his front. -The hand that way playing with your chest slides lower, now drawing patterns on your tummy that in a few month will be round and full. -Shang Tsung bites his lower lip, and close tight his eyes, it's a sinful thought that is bringing him too fast to the end. -"Let me cum inside, you want it too right? You always tell me, don't you remember?" He whispers into your ear, voice weavering at each of his thrust in your core. -You seriously don't remember ever telling him that, but you nod, too fucked, too lost in the throes of pleasure to formulate a coherent thought. -"I knew it, you will be an excellent brood mare." He smirks, wide and wicked. -Shang Tsung almost hope he didn't impregnate you this time, the idea so good he wants to try again and again. -Not that he will stop anyway…

Bi-Han: -He is the Grandmaster, you know? He needs heirs! -But Bi-Han isn't doing this to follow orders, his eyes liquid lust while looking at your soft body, phrases way too broken and badly formulated to be of a man following his duty. -"I'll make you full of my cum, I'll fuck you so good-" The sudden grip of your core make Bi-Han stops in his track, lost in the pleasure of your pussy suiting his cock like a glove. -It's not like you are doing any better, legs up his shoulders, hands scratching his biceps the only stable thing to keep you anchored to this moment, mind wandering in the sea of bliss at each of his hard thrusts. -Bi-Han can't stop thinking of your chest, filled to the brim with milk, soft and round begging to be touched, nipples hard desperate for some attention, tummy full of yours and his child. -His mind plays a dirty trick and he cums with just one last thrust, falling on top of you, groaning into your neck, while he fills you with his cum. -"Keep it all in, don't make a single drop fall."

Liu Kang: -He waited his entire life to be in peace and in love. Now it's time to step up the game. -The idea of you carrying his baby, your entire body glowing of happiness make his brain vessels close really fast, blood flowing to his crotch pathetically fast. -That's why now you are on your hands and knees, taking him like a champ, his thrusts hard and fast, the fat of your ass red from the slaps you counted a minute ago, the sound you are both making obscenely lewd. -Liu Kang isn't a gentleman. He is a man with a goal that he needs to accomplish if he doesn't want to become crazy. -Something that you already are, tears running down your face, drool escaping your open mouth, moans escaping freely. -"Please, lemme cum-" You sob "I've been good." You gasp out. -Liu Kang whines after hearing your voice. You always sound so good, and he is too weak to you. -"Take it all, my darling, you can do it. I know it." He prompts you on, close to the end himself. -And you do, not even a sound escapes your mouth, too tired and desperate, total opposite of Liu Kang whom cum into you, an high pitched moan blessing your ears. -You lay down, knees and arms weak after the intense session, trying to stabilise your breath, while your lover stay behind you, pulling out and admiring his work. -Liu Kang notices some cum rolling down your core, so he scoop it up with his index and middle finger to plunge it inside you again, earning him a whine. -"Don't waste any of it, keep it inside. It's holy, you know?"

Syzoth: -He gets a bit insane thinking of you having his kids, honestly. -That's why for the longest time, Syzoth won't say anything and keep this thought for himself, ashamed you may get scared. -But then he finds out you share his kink and his wall drop. But he'll ask to repeat yourself because Syzoth thinks his intrusive thought pulled a bad joke on him. -Syzoth prefers to enjoy his kink when he isn't in "heat", when his mind is a bit more stable and he can control himself a bit more. You tell him he is fine either way, but please respect his decision one step at a time. -Doesn't mean Syzoth won't rock your world anyway; you should know how hot your shy boy is. -Syzoth would bite your neck, tell him if he is being too rough, he may not be in "heat," but the blood isn't pumping only in his brain right now. -Don't tap out! For lizards, it means you are being submissive, and it is like an okay sign to keep going, Syzoth didn't agree on a safe word with you just for fun. -"You are so fucking big-" You turn your head back as best as you can, face still pushed into the mattress, voice almost a little whine "Fill me up, please cum inside!" -Syzoth doesn't have to mind to reply, but he understands enough to act, filling you to the brim, the idea of your full tummy and soft glow the last push he needed.

[chaos--s]

platonic yandere! villain x hero!reader

--

You regretted walking down this path. Maybe then you wouldn't have bumped into him, you wouldn't be held up by your neck only accompanied by your strangled noises as the villain choked the life out of you.

"It's pathetic really. I'd thought you would have put up more of a fight." He watches in amusement as you clawed at his hand, trying to do anything for him to let up for even a moment. "But you're just a sidekick wanting so badly to be a hero, hm?"

This was just unfair, you couldn't say anything to his stupid villain monologue, only being forced to listen to it as you slowly turned blue. Without warning, he rips off your mask.

"Weak heroes don't deserve to keep their dignity."

Fuck. The heroes association was going to kill you, they were going to fire you. You finally willed yourself to kick him and your foot lands square in his face. This makes him loosen his grip enough for you to pry his fingers from around your throat, dropping you straight to the ground.

You cough as your body tries to take in as much air as possible, your lungs burned as you tried to calm down enough to get back to the fight. You could feel yourself about to pass out, seems like the only fight that you should be focusing on was not blacking out in front of a villain.

"You...you have a decent kick, I'll give you that." He laughs, wiping the blood from his nose. "But you'll regret that, little hero."

"Stop- stop monologuing," You manage to say between breaths. "You villains never shut up."

His eye twitches as he finally turns back to you. You're still catching your breath on the ground, he walks up to you and crouches down to your level. You try your best to cover your face but to no avail, he grabs your face and forces you to look at him.

He definitely didn't expect this. Your face was scrunched up, hoping that somehow he wouldn't get a clear view of your face. But he did.

"Give me back my fucking mask, asshole!" You reach forward for your mask but he crushes it in a single hand as if it was just paper. You watch in horror as your mask falls to the ground in pieces. Your hero identity shattered, just like that.

"You're-" His breath hitches as his finger grazes a bruise that he had inflicted on your face. "It's you."

"What the fuck are you talking about-!?" This man was a lunatic. Even for him this was messed up, he finally lets you go and you punch him in the face. He doesn't react, his head doesn't whip to the side like it usually does.

In pure rage you continue to punch him, he took your identity away from you. He's unmoving, standing there taking all of your punches. Not a single sound of pain or even a flinch.

Was he faking it the entire time?

He grabs your fist as you swung again, forcing you to stop. "Enough playing hero, you're hurt." His voice is soft.

What?

You kick at him now, jumping up to aim at his face again but he moves in an inhuman speed. Even faster than normal, he catches you as you land and now you were somehow in the arms of the villain that had been terrorizing you.

"I'm- I'm sorry for hurting you," He's floating in the air now. You're scared. This wasn't how you expected this to go at all, somehow his mercy was scarier than his normal villainy. "I never realized- my baby sibling, I missed you so much."

"You're fucking insane, I don't know who you are." You hissed at him, still struggling even as he levitates further into the air. "...Father separated us from young, only thinking for himself as he experimented with his own children. But you've always been so sweet and kind, no wonder the heroes has their claws in you, polluting you with their fake rhetoric."

He holds you tighter as memories from his childhood came back to him. You were still so sweet and innocent, it was only right that he had you back in his arms.

More monologuing. "Even if any of your delusional rambling was real, I wouldn't want anything to do with your crazy ass. You're evil, a villain and I fucking hate you for it."

You're still trying your hardest to hit him, but he has your arms tight to your side that you could barely move. All he does is smile at you. "It's okay, I'll help you remember me. It takes time, and I'll be there with you every step of the way."

[vandme12]

Hello hi!! I love your writing you’re so insanely talented!!

I’ve been wondering and I’ve actually requested a couple people for this but, ronin x reader who has anxiety about him getting caught? I’m so curious on how he’d react to this

You check the news before you check your messages. That’s how bad it’s gotten.

Your phone screen glares in the dim light of your apartment, headlines flashing like warning signs: Serial Killer Still at Large – Authorities Urge Caution; New Evidence Suggests Possible Suspect – Police Closing In?; “The Butcher” Case Continues to Baffle Investigators.

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until the words swim together, twisting into something unreadable. No name. No face. Nothing solid. Your shoulders loosen. Your stomach untwists.

He’s still free.

For now.

The relief is short-lived. What if it changes tomorrow? What if they do find something? What if—

Your phone buzzes. A new message.

goreboy: “darlin’, if you’re gonna worry about me, you should at least let me enjoy it up close. i can practically hear that pretty lil’ head of yours buzzin’ from here.”

Your pulse jumps. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You shouldn’t be talking to him—not here, not anywhere—but that’s never stopped you before.

You: “I’m not worrying.”

goreboy: “liar.”

You chew on your bottom lip. He’s right, of course. He always is.

Another buzz.

goreboy: “lemme in.”

Your heart stutters. You glance at the door. He wouldn’t—would he? Your fingers tighten around your phone. A beat passes. Then another.

A knock.

Sharp. Playful. Like he knows exactly what it does to you.

You don’t think. You move.

The door swings open, and there he is—leaning against the frame like he belongs there, like he owns the space. Loose hoodie, ripped jeans, a smirk sharp enough to cut. Those amber eyes sweep over you, drinking in the tension strung tight in your shoulders. He grins, all teeth.

“Knew you’d let me in.”

You step back before he can make a point of crossing the threshold himself, before he can make you admit anything. He takes his time entering anyway, letting the door click shut behind him like it’s sealing a secret.

“Didn’t answer my texts,” he murmurs, circling you like a lazy predator. “Was startin’ to think you were mad at me.”

You fold your arms, ignoring the heat licking up your spine. “I was busy.”

“Busy worrying about me?”

“I wasn’t—”

Ronin hums, unconvinced. His fingers brush your chin, tilting your face up just enough for him to drink in your hesitation. He doesn’t have to say he sees through you. He just does.

“You’re cute when you stress, y’know that?” His voice dips lower, something almost fond curling around the edges. “Not as cute as when you beg, but I’ll take what I can get.”

You push his hand away, but it’s weak. Pathetic. He knows it.

“Ronin—”

“Mmm?”

Your throat tightens. You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t even let the thought form, but it’s already there, clawing its way free. “What if they catch you?”

For the first time, he stills. Not much—just a flicker, a brief pause in that endless, rolling confidence. Then his grin stretches wider, like a beast baring its teeth.

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, though.”

“Ronin.”

The teasing edge in his voice fades at the way you say his name—quiet, strained. He likes when you worry, when you care too much despite yourself. But this? This is different.

He exhales slowly, stepping closer. Close enough that you can smell the metallic bite of dried blood on his hoodie, the faintest trace of smoke and cheap motel soap. Close enough that, if he wanted to, he could crush you against him and make you forget why you were ever worried in the first place.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lifts a hand—slow, deliberate—and brushes his fingers against yours. An offer. A test.

You don’t pull away.

“I get it,” he murmurs. “Not used to playin’ on this side of the fence, huh?”

You shake your head. Your voice is barely a whisper. “No.”

He sighs, something almost fond bleeding into his expression. Then he leans in, just enough for his lips to ghost over your temple.

“Lucky for you,” he murmurs, “I don’t lose.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “That’s not—”

A finger presses against your lips. Not rough. Not forceful. Just there. Just a reminder.

“Shhh.”

You freeze.

Ronin leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Y’can’t change what I am, sweetheart. Can’t change what I do. But if it helps, I like that you’re worried.” A grin, sharp and self-satisfied. “Means you’re thinkin’ about me.”

Your heart pounds. “Of course, I think about you.”

“Yeah?”

He tilts his head, and suddenly, you’re looking at him again—really looking at him. At the way his pupils have swallowed up those amber irises. At the way he’s watching you, waiting for something. Daring you.

Your breath shudders out. You’re so, so tired of fighting this.

“…Yes.”

Ronin’s grin softens. Just a fraction. Then, without warning, he scoops you up, dragging you flush against his chest. A startled yelp escapes you, but he just laughs—low and satisfied, arms coiling around you like he knew you’d give in eventually.

He laughed.

Not in a cruel way—never that. It was a sharp, incredulous thing, like you had just confessed to being afraid the sky might fall. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a gloved thumb along your cheek, his touch so light it could have been imagined. “That’s adorable.”

You weren’t trying to be adorable.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his coat, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped animal. “I mean it,” you whispered. “I—I know you think you’re untouchable, but you’re not. They could catch you. And then what?”

Ronin tilted his head, considering you, his ever-present smirk softening. “Then they’d throw a parade,” he said dryly. “Statues, medals, a lifetime supply of those tiny jailhouse oranges. Can’t wait.”

You scowled, shoving at his chest—not that it moved him. “Ronin.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist. It was moments like this that reminded you what he was. Not just the teasing, ever-flirting devil who stole your breath with every grin, but the thing under the mask. The thing the world would never forgive.

He sighed, tilting his head back as if to examine the sky. “You’re really losing sleep over little old me, huh?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

His voice had dipped, losing its usual playful lilt. He tugged you closer, a gloved hand curling around the nape of your neck, grounding you in his warmth. “C’mon,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “You think I’d let myself get caught? Me?”

“You’re not invincible.”

“I might as well be.”

The arrogance in his tone made you want to shake him. How could he be so calm about this? About the very real, very terrifying possibility that one day he wouldn’t walk through that door with blood on his hands and a smirk on his lips? That one day, the news would break with grainy security footage and the words SERIAL KILLER THE BUTCHER APPREHENDED splashed across the screen? That one day, you’d lose him—not to death, but to a fate that might be worse?

“You scare me,” you admitted, voice small. “Not because of what you do. But because I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.”

Ronin stilled.

For once, he had nothing clever to say.

Then, slowly, he exhaled. His free hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing along the bone in slow, soothing strokes. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, softer than you’d ever heard him. “You really do love me, huh?”

Your chest ached. “I never said that.”

He chuckled, but there was no teasing in it. “You didn’t have to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world felt fragile, like one wrong word could shatter everything. And then, finally—

“I’m not gonna let them take me,” Ronin said. “Not now, not ever. They’ll have to pry me out of this world with a crowbar and a prayer.”

His grip tightened just slightly, as if anchoring himself to you. “And if they ever do? If some miraculous day comes when they get lucky?” He leaned in, lips brushing your temple. “Then you run.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was steady, like this was the easiest thing in the world to say. “No visits. No letters. No waiting. You take whatever’s left and disappear, understand?”

“No.” The word was sharp, immediate. “That’s not fair.”

Ronin huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I think ‘fair’ left the building the second we met.”

You hated that he was right. Hated that he was telling you this now, like he’d already accepted that possibility, like he was already preparing you for a world without him.

“No,” you repeated, softer this time. “If they take you, I won’t just run. I’ll burn the whole goddamn place down.”

For a moment, Ronin looked stunned.

Then, slowly, his grin crept back. Wide, wicked, almost proud. “Arson, In the name of the devil, that’s romantic”

You swallowed. “I’m serious.”

“I know.”

His lips brushed yours—not quite a kiss, more of a promise. One he intended to keep.

And for the first time since this conversation started, you let yourself believe him.

[satosugusandwich]

His Angel and His Brat

Part 1!!! Part 2

Hard!Dom!Geto x Brat!Gojo x obedient!afab!reader

(I also try to write my fics to be racially ambiguous! No mention of skin tone or hair type!)

Summary: Gojo is a mega-brat to y/n and Suguru and likes to push buttons cuz he can so Suguru decides to overstimulate Gojo until he thinks he’s broken. (Key word: thinks.) To add to Gojo’s humiliation, he ensures that the reader is getting princess treatment while watching Gojo suffer endlessly. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned with Satoru Gojo.

CW and whatnots: Overstimulation, vibrators, cuffs, finger sucking, condescending!geto, usage of the word “cock”, gojo’s boundless stamina and cocky attitude, anal play, cum licking (off the floor and gojos pp) praise, cocksucking, angel ass reader that ends up in trouble cuz gojo can’t shut his mouth, geto is actually so mean to gojo but so soft cuz he’s actually a teddy bear dw. Use of “brat, princess, angel.” There will be aftercare in future parts cuz imagine leaving pathetic satoru a cum drenched mess. Poor baby. :(((

There will be additional tags in future parts. This is how I cope with ch 236.

Suguru runs his thumb along your bottom lip, licking his own lips while you whimper. Your pretty eyes fixated on his blushing face and half-lidded eyes. He looks at you with so much lust and is so gentle with you, just so in love with how much you please him and how willing you are to do what he wants. You eagerly await him and his orders, always ready to obey.

But.

“Suguru!”

Satoru’s cry makes his face go from pure admiration to utterly sadistic. “Satoru.” He says, looking at the man to the right of you, the same man that’s panting and whining as the vibrator in his tight hole runs relentlessly. “Jealously doesn’t look very good on you.” He grins and hits a button on the small remote he holds in his hand that isn’t occupied with your mouth.

“Fuck—FUCK!” Satoru’s eyes clench shut, the whirring sound coming from his bottom getting faster and bit more high pitched. You’re grateful you aren’t in his position, you don’t know if you could handle Suguru having full control of how much pleasure you get to feel. Especially if that pleasure is ongoing… and nonstop.

Satoru looked unusually pathetic and… weak. It’s insane to think that the so called strongest sorcerer, the cocky, the arrogant, the man on top, bends to the will of his pretty best friend. Suguru’s change in character comes as a shock too. The sweet, soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic sorcerer is now grinning down at his partner, showing no mercy, no kindness, and is only sending Satoru into deeper throes of overwhelming pleasure. You almost didn’t want to look at Satoru, what if Suguru surmised you wanted the same treatment. Would he show you mercy?

“Now, now,” Suguru muses, “if you can beg me properly, I’ll stop your torment. And of course you’ll need to apologize to Y/n and I for being such an impatient little shit.” He chuckles softly and withdraws his thumb from your mouth. “She’s being so well-behaved while you whine and whine and cry and cry about how much it is.” He mocks him, furrowing his eyebrows together in a false pity. “I suppose I should expect it, after all, you’ve cum how many times? That pressure against—“ Suguru crouches as he speaks “—your prostate—“ he runs the tip of his fingers up Satoru’s base “—it’s been nonstop for 30 minutes now.”

You can’t help but watch as Suguru’s hand starts to stroke Satoru now, giving expert attention to his neglected yet tortured cock. Suguru notices how you eyeball his actions and can’t help but smile wider.

“Ah, do you feel left out?” His false pity changes back to his gentle expression. “It’s alright, princess, why don’t you show Satoru how impressed you are with his stamina. Give him a little reward?”

Suguru is evil.

“I don’t think he could take it, Sugu.” You answer honestly.

He looks a bit disappointed but he relents his ministrations. “I suppose you’re right. But he still owes us an apology before his punishment ends.”

You nod and meet Satoru’s eyes. He can barely speak as his next orgasm approaches. “I-I’m so—“ his body is shaking. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been so—Suguru—so impatient! Please, I’m so so soo!!! So sorry!” He’s almost in tears now, you can tell Suguru is even beginning to feel pity for his best friend and his brat.

“Ahh… cum one more time and I’ll take it out. Show me you deserve mercy by pleading. Plead for mercy.” Suguru’s fingers tug at your nipples now, clearly losing interest in Satoru’s torment. You know that you aren’t being punished, but seeing Suguru like this… makes you a little weary.

“Please please!” Satoru repeats the word over and over. “I’m so sorry! Please, mercy!” He keeps prattling on, thrusting into the air as he struggles to keep together.

“Y/n.” Suguru looks to you. “Clean up his next mess for me. Lick his cock clean and then it’ll be your turn.”

Satoru starts to mumble and moan out different variations of thank yous and Suguru’s name as he reaches his final high. And when he cums, It’s a mess. Semen spills from his cock and your immediately there to catch it. Suguru’s eyes widen, absolutely loving your eagerness to take his cum down your throat.

“Good boy, good girl.” He pets your head and clicks the toy off, causing Satoru’s to collapse completely, his body weight bearing into the now standing legs of Suguru. He catches his breath, still whimpering as Suguru pets his head. Satoru looks you in the eyes, his beauty keeping your gaze fixated on his body. His six eyes are a little red, probably from the tears that he held back, and his body is flushed beautifully, his pretty cock slowly going soft as he does his best to calm down.

Satoru relaxes back on his knees while Suguru goes behind him to remove the toy from his ass and undo Satoru’s hand cuffs. You breathe a sigh of relief for him, always impressed by Satoru’s unwavering stamina and attitude. You wondered how Satoru enjoyed pissing Geto off so much, does he really enjoy these punishments that much? Suguru seemingly loves the after effects of a good punishment, his adoration of Satoru is evident in the way he kisses his head and gently rubs his back while Satoru regains his strength.

As much as you love watching, you are wondering why Suguru invited you to observe Satoru’s punishment. You’re not really complaining and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve seen it, but, all you’ve had is a thumb in your mouth and a little bit of cocksucking. After all, Suguru can’t ever stay entirely focused on Satoru, he needs some pleasure himself.

Satoru seems to be wondering the same thing. “So, baby, why did you bring her in to watch?” He asks, rising from his knees to give them a break.

Suguru looks down at you. “Just on a whim.” He strokes your face before looking back toward his brat. “And I’ve noticed you get more worked up with an arousing audience.”

“Well, wouldn’t you if she was licking your cum from the floor?” Satoru grumbled, sitting on the bed.

Suguru turns his attention back toward you. “She does love cum in her mouth.” He strokes himself slowly, catching your attention.

“I want yours next.” You tell him, shifting your weight and sending him a smile.

Satoru watches as you lean forward to lick Suguru’s cock, taking his precum on your tongue. He doubt he could handle anymore cumming, but he certainly loves to see you take cock down your throat. If he had more energy, he’d love to stuff his down as well. “Like it that much, y/n?” He chuckles.

Suguru’s eyes shoot to Satoru. “Jealous again, Satoru?? Well, the question is are you jealous cuz my cock is down her throat or are you jealous cuz it’s not down your throat?”

Satoru sucks his teeth. “I want to watch her take me balls deep.”

Uh oh.

Suguru removes his cock from your mouth. “Satoru,” you start, “I don’t think you have enough energy to keep that attitude up.” Indeed, his stamina is incredible.

Suguru waits to see his reaction.

And of course, the other man grins and only adds fuel to the fire. “Think she’d look better with my cock in her mouth. She’s been paying more attention to me than you anyways.”

“Satoru…” you sigh and in seconds Suguru has him pressed back into the bed and is beckoning for you to get on with him.

Satoru laughs. “Aw, did I bruise your ego, baby? What are you gonna do about it?”

Suguru points to his mouth. “Sit on him to shut him up and I’ll give him a nice view of my cock in your mouth.”

Fuck, that sounds hot. Satoru just grins and motions for you to ride his face, pointing at his eager tongue that’s already out and waiting.

“Y/n, make sure he stays quiet I don’t want to hear him make a single peep. And since he likes being punished so much, I’ll punish you instead if he speaks.”

What?

You blink. Undeniably aroused but a bit scared of his now very evident sadism. “You know he’s going to try to speak now on purpose?” Mercy isn’t exactly his thing right now but you’ll pry at it for sure.

Suguru gives you an evil grin as you lower your weeping pussy onto Satoru’s face. “Then keep his mouth shut.”

[delugyu]

bg’s soundcheck outfit today drives me insane too… I have so many thoughts and none of them are holy 😣 I won’t say it out loud but my visions are vivid… innocent reader and possessive professor gyu, who cannot keep his eyes off of you. He won’t admit that he’s a pervert, but he can’t help it when you bend down to grab something and your panties caught his eyes. Maybe he can give you an extra lecture which ends up with him rubbing his dick on your pssy and you have no clue what’s going on but it just feels so good… Okay now I’m going to jail bonk!

FAWKKKK this is ruining me 😵‍💫 prof!gyu who wants to be professional and normal, but as soon as he gets home from work he’s fisting his cock thinking abt u.. he thinks about keeping u after class and bending you over one of the desks, flipping up ur skirt and spanking you until your legs are shaking.. it’s only fair that he should get to punish you; if you’re gonna keep coming to class so sinfully beautiful, he should show u what happens to pretty little girls who tempt their professors <3 he’ll stop once your whines get too pitiful, he’d soothe your skin with gentle hands, cooing at you and telling you how this is what had to happen, this is what you deserved. he imagines the way you’d jump when he presses a finger against your cunt through your panties, how wet you’d be just from a few spanks.

he feels his face flush every time you make eye contact with him. it’s bad enough trying to deal with his lust for you in a classroom with 70 students, but when you start coming to his office hours one-on-one, acting normal around you becomes impossible. you don’t even know how much you’re affecting him—you’re just sitting there with the prettiest smile on your face, listening to him try to sputter out the answers to your questions. you nod and bat your eyelashes as he speaks, and he can’t help but get distracted by your sweetness. you’re always so well-mannered, he knows you’d be the most obedient little thing for him. he’s immensely grateful for the desk that separates the two of you, otherwise he’d have to worry about you catching sight of the tent in his pants.

fuck, he’s awful. he should be fired. the moment you walk out of his office, he throws his head back and groans, contemplating just cancelling the rest of his hours for the day so he can go home already and jack off to the thought of you. he can picture you on your knees right now, sucking him off from under his desk while he sings praises to you. so good for me, aren’t you? i should just keep you forever, make your sweet cunt all mine. he’d brush your hair back and make sure you’re looking him in the eye as you suck his cock.

he holds his head in his hands. he’s screwed.

on his bad days, he thinks about treating you rough. you’d let him take out his anger on you, wouldn’t you? be his toy, let him use you until he’s all better. he’d hold your body right against his, your back to his chest, his hand on your throat, fucking into you mercilessly as he pants into your ear. you’d take it all so well. he knows he’s big, but your pussy was made for him, so he’d make all of it fit and fuck you until you start shaking in his arms. you would look so pretty when you’re trembling and weak. you’d whimper something pathetic, some sort of plea for mercy, and he’d have to kiss your sweet lips and tell you no. he can’t help it, you’d look so beautiful cumming for him, he’d have to get you off again and again. he’d watch his seed spill out of your spent cunt, watch your hole flutter as his cum drips out. you’re so pretty and delicious, he might even have to dive down and clean you up.

he has an especially bad day when he finds out you have a boyfriend. a boyfriend? are you fucking kidding? the minute you uttered that word to him, he wanted to push you up against the wall and yank your panties down. he wanted to pull your hair and fuck you hard. he wanted to be ruthless and mean, and he wanted to hurt you. he would make you cry and beg for forgiveness. he would make you promise to leave that stupid guy, to never talk to him again. beomgyu’s a real man, someone you could actually turn to and rely on. he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, suck your neck until he leaves marks. he’d push you around, make you go delirious and stupid, fuck you until you’re pliant and agreeable. dumb baby, he hopes you learn from this.

but of course, beomgyu doesn’t do any of that. he can’t. he has a job to do and morals to keep up. that doesn’t stop him from giving you some honest advice, though. “have you considered, maybe your boyfriend’s the reason you’re struggling in class?”

[greisekinderschar]

regarding book!dandelion’s much discussed misogyny one thing i find insanely amusing is how the gamer bro fanbase perceives it.

because to me, it’s like, supposed to be one of his weaknesses. it’s one of the ways in which he is unhinged that continuously gets him in trouble. yeah, there’s a joke here and there. but like. dudu thinks he can get away in dandelion’s form? nah man, the angry woman with the frying pan knocks you out, worst decision you made that day. he’s afraid he’ll get murdered if they go to toussaint. he survives the quest to end up on a scaffold because he couldn’t stop fucking around.

yet, when you see the dude bro “book stans’” reaction to the queer netflix reveal there are very personal grievances when they say “you made the womanizer gay!!!”. we know he’s not gay. he’s bi. he fucks more than twice the amount. but the fact that “the womanizer” would as much as look at a man somehow hurts these people in their masculinity, which reveals they think this part of him to be the cool, masculine part.

and it’s really funny to me, because i have this idea of sapkowski using bard characters (he does it in the hussite trilogy as well) to have some, dare i say it, subversive masculinities. because dandelion is very un-masculine in the context of the story. not only does he challenge the temerian knights and others by directly insulting their idea of masculinity and often ridicules the hierarchic structures he himself benefits from despite having fled the connected responsibilities. he’s not a fighter, he’s a poet, he’s not ‘hot’, he is pretty. he’s a coward, he is vain, he is bitchy, he is emotionally intelligent. he laments the gruesomeness of war that is nothing like the heroic masculine stories told about it. he is kind of the mum of the hansa. in short, he is very ‘feminine’, except for his womanizing and his misogynist moments (and the drinking). the parts of him that are, as i said, the most pathetic of his character. and yet, readers who are caught up in the structures of hegemonic masculinities perceive it as a way to consolidate his place in the hierarchy. in a way, his assholery is his redeeming quality in the masculine order. or at least that is what i believe, because why else would they have such an extreme reaction. if dandelion loses his one hegemonic masculine trait of putting himself above women by also sleeping with men, then he is not a man.

[i am aware the concept of masculinities has fluctuated massively in history, which is the point of hegemonic masculinities, and that medieval courtly masculinities had their own ‘feminized’ moments, with monks complaining about the knightly fashion making them look like vain women, but this is a fantasy saga that the reader perceives from contemporary standards, and the masculinities presented are very warrior-centered]

plus, i imagine it complicates his friendship with geralt. because they are bro bros, going to the BROthel together, sharing beds, kissing each other on the cheek for goodbye. if one of these bros is interested in dick, it makes emotional intimacy among men ~weird~. it makes the dude bros go “a bro cant have anything”. but bro, bro, you could have everything. you could even have a bite of dandelion.